Major French authors and influences
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
Poetry
The art of Clément Marot, at least at the beginning of his career, took its inspiration and
the forms to express it from the Grands Rhétoriqueurs, as in the allegorical poem “Le Temple de
Cupidon” (“The Temple of Cupid”). But aspects of humanism in his culture, life at court (a
protégé of Marguerite de Navarre throughout his life, he succeeded his father as valet de
chambre to Francis I in 1527), and, above all, the events of his day gave his works a new
dimension. Practitioner of a wide range of forms—including the medieval fixed forms of the
ballade and the rondeau, chansons, blasons (poems employing descriptive details to praise or to
satirize), and elegies—Marot preferred the epistle for its freedom of style and the epigram for its
vivacity. With the epistle he reached the summit of the highly subtle art by which he defined
himself, a poet of the court and also a Protestant, aspiring to a pure and simple happiness of true
religious faith. He wrote his allegorical satire on justice, L’Enfer (“Hell”), in 1526 after his brief
imprisonment on charges of violating Lenten regulations, and he fled into exile in 1534 to avoid
persecution after the Affaire des Placards (in which placards attacking the Mass appeared in
several cities and on the king’s bedchamber door). His return to Paris in 1537 made him no more
prudent; he continued his translations of the Psalms, a brilliant literary achievement, publishing
the first collection in 1539. Marot’s translation, continued by the Calvinist theologian Theodore
Beza, became the Huguenot psalter.
While Marot was translating the Psalms, other poets were engaged with a different kind of
mysticism. In Lyon an important group including Maurice Scève, Pernette du Guillet, and Louise
Labé were writing Neoplatonist and Petrarchan love poetry, highly stylized in form, in which
desire for an earthly Beauty inflames the poet with an inspirational frenzy that elevates his
creative powers and draws him toward the spiritual Beauty, Truth, and Knowledge that she
mirrors. In her Euvres (1555; Louise Labé’s Complete Works), Labé presents a collection of
elegies, sonnets, and prose reversing the usual gender perspective and summoning other women
to follow her example in search of poetic fame. The love poetry of the Pléiade is in similar mode,
as reflected in the sonnet cycles of du Bellay (L’Olive, 1549) and Ronsard (from Les Amours
[1552] to the Sonnets pour Hélène [1578, 1584, 1587; Eng. trans. Sonnets pour Hélène]) and in
the metrical experiments of Baïf. It is more varied in its inspirations and in its technique;
Ronsard, for example, uses a wide range of Classical models to write poems in different registers
to different mistress-figures, and he often brings more sensuous variations to the stylized motifs.
There is also a conscious foregrounding of a more worldly dimension, especially in Ronsard. The
desire for fame, the recognition of one’s creative genius by contemporaries and posterity, merges
with the aspiration to possess the mistress and the divine Truth she represents.
The themes and modes of Pléiade poetry, however, ranged wider than love, even the love
that presides over the life of the entire cosmos, as sung by Jacques Peletier in L’Amour des
amours (1555; “The Love of Loves”). Ronsard’s poetic debut, the first four books of his Odes
(1550), mixed politics and the pastoral, celebrating in Pindaric mode the great men and women
of Henry II’s court—both politicians and poets—and turning to Horace and Anacreon for models
to evoke the natural beauties of the landscape of a peaceful and idyllic France. Du Bellay’s
sonnet collection, Les Regrets (1558), combines satire and pastoral to depict the corruption of
society in Rome, to which diplomatic duties had exiled him, and to express his yearning for the
beauty and peace of his native Anjou. A “scientific” and philosophical poetry appeared, taking
many forms—not least the hymn, reinvented by Ronsard (Les Hymnes, 1555–56). In drama,
Étienne Jodelle revived the themes and forms of Classical tragedy. Whatever form inspiration
took—love, nature, knowledge—Art dominated them all. Refining the forms elaborated by
fellow-craftsmen from the high ages of human art, the poet demonstrated his ability to match the
creative powers that move the cosmos.
When the civil wars broke out in 1562, the Pléiade was on the side of the great Catholic
families who occupied the throne. Ronsard eloquently defended the cause of Catholic reform
against the Protestant Reformers and their aristocratic allies in his Discours (1562–63). Not all
the members of the Pléiade, however, were as absolute against the Protestant enemy, especially
as the century advanced and the atrocities increased. In the massacre that began on St.
Bartholomew’s Day (August 24/25, 1572), some 3,000 Huguenots in Paris alone were murdered
by Catholics on the rampage. The plays of Robert Garnier frequently took subjects of biblical as
well as humanist inspiration that reflected the pain of all those caught in the violence of the times
(Les Juifves, 1583).
The warrior-poet of Protestantism, Théodore-Agrippa d’Aubigné, represented the perfect
synthesis of humanism and Calvinism. He studied to perfection the three traditional languages,
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and he was familiar with modern languages, especially Italian. In his
youth, between 1571 and 1573, he wrote love poetry modeled on Petrarch. His master poem, Les
Tragiques, composed for the most part at the end of the century but not published until 1616, is a
visionary, apocalyptic account of the civil conflict from the perspective of the Protestant
Reformers.
Prose
The production of poetry in the 16th century did not outdo the other genres in quantity.
Readers turned above all to works in prose, for accounts of voyages, lives of saints, and
collections of diverse leçons or lectures (readings). Prose was slow in freeing itself from the
heavy yoke thrown over it by the medieval humanists. But with Jean Lemaire de Belges prose
became eloquent, and with François Rabelais it became a prodigious domain of experimentation.
Rabelais’s writing found some of its most appreciative readers and critics in the 20th
century, not least the great Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin, who celebrated the revolutionary
power of Rabelais’s “carnivalesque” discourse. Humanism rightfully claims Pantagruel (1532;
Eng. trans. Pantagruel) and Gargantua (1534; Eng. trans. Gargantua), with their celebrated
giants, feasting, drinking, and discovering and proclaiming the new and better ways of learning,
of the conduct of war and peace, and of the true religion, which, for Rabelais resided in
individual prayer, charity, and the virtuous life. He called Erasmus his spiritual father and
befriended numerous Protestants. But uniquely, this voice of Evangelical humanism speaks
through the thundering roll of a laughter that spares no one and nothing, keeping its best aim for
the worst, most benighted, and most grotesque exponents of the medieval theology, scholarship,
medicine, and law that sought to stifle the emerging individual. Rabelais’s last three books,
published long after the first two, continue the search for the good life: Le Tiers Livre (“The
Third Book”) in 1546, Le Quart Livre (“The Fourth Book”) in 1552, and Le Cinquième Livre
(“The Fifth Book”) in 1564 (of questionable authenticity); these can be found in English
translation in The Works of François Rabelais (1970). The terror of cuckoldry experienced by
Pantagruel’s all-too-human companion, Panurge, and the churchmen’s theological nitpicking
over doctrinal irrelevancies and absurdities—these are so many examples of what Rabelais
considered the absurd but tragic way men wasted in idle discourse time that could be spent in the
search for sound religion, good companionship, and the intoxicating wine of the new life.
Rabelais dedicated his Tiers Livre to Marguerite de Navarre, patron of Evangelical
humanist reform and author of religious poetry. She is best known in the modern era, however,
for her Heptaméron (published posthumously, 1558–59; The Heptameron), modeled on
Boccaccio’s Decameron. Marguerite’s collection of tales held together in a narrative frame is
one of the major landmarks in the creation of the modern French realist novel. The games of
courtly love are here played in the context of court life while more ribald games are played by
serving men, maids, and monks, and the players’ motives and behaviour are commented on by
the courtiers, men and women, who form the audience for the tales. Marguerite’s language is
more discreet than that of Rabelais, but there is the same mixture of styles and tones, seriousness
and bawdy, and the same awareness of the resources of both spirit and body. With her fellow
novelist Hélisenne de Crenne (Les Angoysses Douloureuses qui procèdent d’amours [1538; The
Torments of Love]), Marguerite is one of the few writers to mark the making of the new culture
with a distinctive female sensibility and voice.
In the closing years of the century, Michel de Montaigne continued his predecessors’
exploration of the newly discovered realms of body and mind and of the delights of humanist
learning and language, but he employed a very different tone and form. Engaged in his youth in
politics, war, and diplomacy alongside his peers, Montaigne largely withdrew from public life in
1570 and thereafter spent much of his time in his library, writing the works that established him
as the founder of the tradition of self-exploration and self-writing as well as an emblem of
modern liberal individualism. The first two volumes of his Essais (Essays) were published in
1580. A third was added in 1588, along with an enlarged edition of the first two. When he died in
1592, he left his own copy of the Essays, with numerous revisions written in his own hand. This
revised text was published in 1595. The earliest essais were to a large degree developments,
increasingly elaborate, on the themes suggested by his extensive readings in ancient authors,
particularly Plutarch’s Lives. But as he wrote, Montaigne became more and more his own
subject, exploring through introspection his own experience—not just as his own but also as the
mirror of the universal human condition, a life subject to death and defined by the relative
circumstance of historical place, moment, and society in which it is situated. Remembering,
analyzing, imagining, considering the operations of his intellectual faculties and his bodily
functions, observing himself sick, well, aging, Montaigne is especially concerned with the
concept of change. He is the writer who perhaps best represents the 16th century’s achievement
in placing the individual, body and soul, in the flow of history. The form he conceived to carry
the results of his meditations is perfectly adapted to this purpose. Free in form, the sentences and
paragraphs of the essai follow seamlessly the movement of ideas, linked by their author’s own
associations and changing moods. The language is clear, simple, and measured, giving a
calculated but effortless appearance of spontaneity, engaging readers in a conversation that takes
them gently into the paths of self-discovery.
The legacy to posterity of this most moderate and self-moderating of thinkers is a double
one. Montaigne’s invention and celebration of the individual subject also contributes to the
antiauthoritarian direction of Western thought. In the 17th century he was anathematized by
Blaise Pascal for his “foolish” project to paint himself, which the Jansenist saw as a challenge to
the religious values of self-abnegation and submission. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques
Rousseau acknowledged the influence of Montaigne on his Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire
(1782; The Reveries of the Solitary Walker), celebrating radical individualism. No Western
proponent of absolute authority or order would be immune to the challenge posed by the
humanist’s discovery of the central place of change in the affairs of men or by his unswerving
advocacy of Pyrrhonism, the skeptical mind-set opposed to all dogmas and dismissive of all
claims by the human mind to possess absolute truth. Corrosive and cleansing, Montaigne’s
skepticism cleared the way for the scientific rationalism of René Descartes and the
Enlightenment.
