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.