The extravagant shepherd, the anti-romance, or, The history of the shepherd Lysis translated out of French.

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS. (Book 13)

The Thirteenth Book. (Book 13)

WHen the Cloath was taken away, the Judge was seated near the Table, and some others sate on both sides of him; which done, Carmelin, as if he had been Cryer, caused silence to be kept, and for Clari∣mond, he stood and began thus.

The Oration of CLARIMOND against Poetry, Fables, and Romances.

WEre there remaining in the world but a confus'd memory only of all the fabulous Books which antiquity brought forth, and that there could be seen but the Titles of them some where, I should have no cause to quarrel with a thing whose mischief expired with the age that bred it, and did not survive to injure this: But when I consider that the most absurd imaginations and resue∣ries of the world have outlived those that believed them as articles of faith, and have been transmitted to us though our Religion condemns them, I can not contain my self, but must openly discover how little reason men have to hold so many impertinences for Oracles. The mischief they do, ought to make the greater impression on us, when we find that these ancient follies do

not only gain esteem, but men make it their daily imployment to invent others in imitation of them. And this is the reason, why (out of a desire to serve the publick, and especially some particular men who please themselves in reading or composing such things) I have undertaken to acquaint them how they mis∣spend their time, and what impertinences they are to meet with in Romances and Poetry. He who would discourse of all the ancient Poets, would not in one day see the end of his labour; I must therefore encounter only with the most famous among them and in the first place bring Homer on the Stage, who is called Prince of the Greek Poets: A man needs do no more then read his Iliads and his Odysses to find all the fopperies imaginable amass'd together. I will not taxe him with the overturning of the whole History, and whereas it is held that the Trojans overcame the Grecians, he hath feigned that the Gre∣cians overcame the Trojans, to honour his own Country; but there's so much to be said against him, that that may be abated: Let all his Works be read, and there will be found less invention in them then in those of your old Knights of the round Table. The whole subject of the Iliads is briefly this, That Briseis being forced away from Achilles, he staid all alone in his Ship, and would go no more to the Wars, during which time the Trojans made several 〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon the Grecians, wherein the Grecians being put to the worst, they ad∣dressed themselves to that son of Peleus, who would not bear arms till his friend Patroclus was dead he after this kils Hector in a duel, and having fastn'd his body behind his Chariot, drew it up and down through the Camp. Though this name of Iliad seems to promise an entire relation of the siege of Ilium, which is a Fort, by which was meant the whole City; we find in Homer neither the begin∣ning nor ending thereof; and if we had it not from other Poets, we should have known nothing. 'Twas a strange want of judgement not to put down nei∣ther the causes nor progress of so great alterations: 'twould not have cost him much; he had no more to do then to bring it in by way of relation from some old Captains to one new come into the Service: So that whereas we now can hardly understand what was done in two or three months of the War, we should then have been acquainted with the actions of ten years and above, for he saies the siege of Troy lasted so long, which so embroyles our minds, that we cannot imagin how both sides should stand it out so long, and what no∣ble adventures past between them. it had been better Homer had made it his business to tell us that, so to leave a perfect work, then to have undertaken that of the Odysseys. But all this signifies not much, for it may be said he died in his designes, or that some of his works have been lost; we must therefore be content that he hath left us any thing worth our notice. Instead of bring∣ing into Olympus the war of his imaginary Gods fighting among themselves, he brings them fighting amongst men. He makes them rail at one another, and commit such palpable impertinences, that I know not how the Grecians that did adore them, could possibly suffer him. He makes the Gods carefull and tender only of the Trojans and Grecians, as if there were no more people in the world. They never speak of any other Nations, whereof there were no small number on earth and whom they were equally obliged to protect. But though they are only troubled to make those two peoples fight, and ever and anon have their Assemblies to that purpose, and are as many for one side as the other, yet have they not the wit to reconcile the difference, and prevent the ruine of the most signal Heroes in the Camp. Do you think it a good exam∣ple for men to see Jupiter and Juno quarrelling every foot, when they were bro∣ther and sister, husband and wife? Is it not a fine tale that Jupiter tels that Goddess, when to threaten her, he asks her whether she had forgotten the time that being angry with her, he hanged her up in the air with two anvils at her feet? Was it not a fine sight to see her in that posture, was it not an invention worthy a God? 'Twas indeed an expedient to make his wife longer by a

pearch. She was also much given to drink; when she was angry, Vulcan to ap∣pease her, presented her with a drink, and she had a trick to put her husband a∣sleep, and in the mean time execute all her designs; for though he were King of Gods and men, yet he knew not what was done in the world while he slept As for the Ornaments of this Iliad, you will find them all of a barrel, and that Homer convers'd with no other Poetical figures then similitudes; so that he could not express the least engagement or scuffle of the Army, but by one; but that which is most ridiculous is, that they are all of a sort. You will find that a man that's mortally wounded and falls to the ground, is every where compared to a Tree blown down by the wind, or cut down with an axe; and what is yet more tedious is, that in every page almost, you shall find some He∣roes furiously assaulting his enemies, ever compared to some wild beast rava∣ging among a flock of sheep, or a bird of prey, pursuing or devouring the les∣ser ones. If such comparisons through the book do not amount to the sum of four hundred and better, I'll desire no credit be given to ought I say. Be∣sides these there are others which are not so frequent, yet are they the most im∣pertnent in the world. The Grecians marching in battalia are compared to Cranes which flie in Troops; and in a certain place where they make a great noise about Sarpedon who had been put to death, they are compared to flies buzzing about the milk-pans and the cheese••fats A little after there is the nastiest and loathsomest comparison that could be. Those who drew one against ano∣ther who should have Patroclus's body, are compared to the prentices of a Cur∣rier liquoring an oxe-hide to make it supple, and pulling it with their nails to stretch it. As for Homers language, it must be conceived the Greek is not too pure or elegant, for that seven Cities strove whose Citizen he should be, was only because he made use of so many different dialects, so that it could never be judged what Countrey-man he was; and I only leave it to be judg'd what grace it were in one of our Poets, for to make up his rimes and cadences, to huddle together, with the pure French, the expressions and phrases of Gascony, Picardy, Champaigne, and Normandy. And yet this Prince of the Greek Po∣ets who hath done what's as bad, must yet carry away the general esteem; yet I shall be told that some very famous Authours have thought their discourses singularly adorned when they made use of somewhat of his; whereas if a man ask them why they commend him, they will tell you, because he is fraught with sentences; but what sentences are they doe you think? They are, for ex∣ample, such as these.

That it is not reasonable a Prince, to whose care others are committed, should sleep away his time or be idle; That Jupiter does easily make known his power to mortals, by ordaining whom he pleases to reigne: And that it is a great honour for a man to die for his Countrey.

Is there any Countrey-fellow so simple as could not say as much? any man that can speak can do it as well, for reason dictates as much to us, word for word, without seeking to Philosophy, though a mans language know nothing of the flowers of Rhetorick. There are a many that make use of examples drawn out of Homer as moral and political discourses, as to say that Agamem∣non wished he had ten Nestors, that Diomedes had but one companion to ac∣complish an enterprise. They apply that diversly to their purposes; but what commendation can arise to him hence? Is there any thing so miraculous in all this? Are not the least things in the world applicable thus? It will be inculcated again, that if Homer be not to be esteemed for his language, he should be for the excellent precepts he gives Souldiers; and that the La∣cedemonians who were a warlike people, said he was their true Poet; but that Hesiod, who treated of Countrey-affairs, was only a Poet for the Helots, their slaves.

I shall not scape the baiting of the Pedants, who will be sure to speak for him who makes them Lord it in the Chair, and will tell me that there being found

among Darius's Gods a rich Cabinet, Alexander thought nothing worthier to be put into it then Homers Iliads, which he had ever under his pillow; but sup∣posing this story to be true, I say the book is never the better for it, and that if that Prince made such use of it, it was for want of other books: For is there any likelyhood that he who was so great a Captain, should so highly esteem discourses of Warr written by a man that was never in any, and speaks of Arms with as much impertinence, as that a School-boy that were at this time to write a Romance, could not possibly commit so many faults of judgement: Can there be any greater then to make his Heroes relate long stories on their Gene∣alogies, or some other as trivial discourse, in the heat of the battel, when it should be conceived they had not time to breath, and that the rest who were in the scufflle had not the leasure to hear them? Is there any thing in the world more ridiculous then that combat between Ajax and Hector, which was fought with a great preparation in sight of both Armies? These two valiant Cham∣pions having broke a Lance or two, fell to throw stones at one another, and presently the Herald came and separated them, fearing they should come to dispute the business with their swords: Is it not a pleasant combat to make such a noise in the world as it does? Is it not another fair impertinence in ano∣ther engagement, to make Helenus who perceived that the Trojans had the worse, go and bid Hector charge Hecuba to pray to the Goddess Minerva? why did he not go to her himself, he who was a Prophet? Was there any reason that great Captain should leave his Souldiers to go upon a message which any boy belonging to the Army might do as well? and yet Hector was such a cockscombe as to return to Troy, where he trifles away a deal of time to talk with his wife, and play with his son, while the Grecians committed a great slaughter on their enemies. Alexander was too great a wit to think well of this, and I could never imagin he could esteem himself more unhappy then Achilles, because he had not so good a voice to sing his praises, since he could not but know that if his conquests had been as fabulously described as the siege of Troy, the world would not have believed the least part of them. That he caused a City to be built to the honour of Homer, there's not so much glory in it as it conceived, since he built another to the honour of his horse. This Poet hath nothing that can any way entertain great minds: He makes Heroes do things mean and unworthy, they turn the spit, boyle the pot, and they are such gluttons, that to stir them up to their duty, their Captains are to remon∣strate to them that they shall have the best bits at the Feasts, and their Goblets full. It may be also easily observed that honest Homer hath not observed any decorum at all: and if we will pass into the Odysseys, we shall that when Vlysses was to depart the Island, where Calipso retained him, that Nymph makes him build his own ship, as if she who was so powerfull could not have found some other to have taken that pains instead of her Lover. But 'tis true, he was not only a Carpenter, but a Joyner too, for he had made in her house a fine bed-stead, having no other tool but a pair of Cissers, as he makes the re∣lation to his wife at his return.

These Odysseys are fraught with nothing but absurdities, and that Vlysses whose travels are described in it, is such a simple fellow, that hearing a certain Poet sing the Wars of Troy, at the relation whereof he should have rejoyced, since he had gotten great fame there, he could never refrain weeping; and yet his Host Alcinous is so well satisfied with his person, though he had been found naked as a worm at the river side, that the very first day he asks him whether he will be his son in law: But 'tis true, he makes the proposition very pleasantly, and shews how little he desires it should take effect; for he tels him at the same time, that if he have no mind to stay any longer, he will give him a Vessel to be gone.

There are the like visible lownesses all through that Book, nothing that's noble or generous. This Vlysses tels foolish tales to his Swine-herd: he asks

an alms of his wife, and fights with a beggar. One of Penelope's Suiters tel∣ling him he should have his share as well as the rest, he cast an oxe-hoof at his head; and if the good man be to relate any thing, he weeps excessively; and the reason why he gives over talking is (saies he) that it might not be thought it was the wine that made him weep. I know no reason why that Pallas, who was so strong of his side, should not restore him to his possessions, without suffe∣ring him to commit so many simplicities. From all this it may be well con∣ceived that Homer who was the author of all this, was but a Bagpiper, that beg'd his bread from dore to dore, and would needs describe some part of his own beggery, under the name of a Prince. But if you think I pass over any noble inventions that may be found in the Odysses▪ let us now consider if they art worth the mentioning.

Vlysses was in Sicily when Polyphemus devoured three of his companions, he told him his name was Nobody, so that having struck out his eye, when Poly∣phemus cry'd our, and the other Cyclop•• running to him, had asked who had done him that mischief▪ he could make them no answer but Nobody, whereat they laught, thinking he had made himself blind. This is a tale so fond and im∣pertinent, that Country people are able to make as good; and I assure you that ancient servant-maids of this Country have one in imitation of this, that is far more ingenious. As concerning Circe the Sorceress into whole Palace Vlys∣ses comes, I wonder how he could meet with men so blunt, as to make them be∣lieve this fable had any thing in it, because by the Grecians chang'd into swine, are represented the voluptuous; and by Vlysses who kept himself from that charm▪ the vertuous and discreet person▪ but there is a secret in this which ever any Author was troubled with; Homer saies that Vlysses lay with Circe a whole year together: Is this the rare example of continence that your Mythologists find here; Were those who had but drunk of a pleasant poison, more blamable then he that had committed adultery with a sorceress? The Poet desirous af∣terwards to take occasion to make the shades of the dead, do somewhat in their turn, makes it be told Circe that Vlysses must go to hell to speak with the divine Tiresias, to know how he should preserve himself as he went into his Country, as if she who was daughter to the Sun, and a knowing sorceress, could not have done him a courtesie in that point; but there is besides herein a notable imper∣tinency: for without all these ceremonies the silly fool might have as easily re∣turn'd to Ithacia, as traverse a snacious Sea that brought him into the Countrey of the Cimmerians, a horrid and folitary passage, through which he was to go into hell.

Thus are there an infinity of superfluous things in the Odysses, as well as in the Iliad••, where Achill••s is forewarned of his death by his horse, which might have been brought about some other way, without making a beast speak.

As for the adventure of the Syren's, was it necessary that this Vlysses who was so wise a man, should be bound to keep him from going to them? As for the principal occasion of the History that mentions the young Lovers of Penelope, who wooed her with so much beat; I find that too, extreamly impertinent; for she having a son of age to beat arms, and twenty years being passed over since, must needs be at least forty years of age, so that she could not raise such passion as Homer would make us believe.

The same thing may be in a manner said of Helen, when she had continued ten years in a City full of desolation, her beauty must needs be decayed, and that might take away much of the eagerness of having her in possession.

Now I have told you all that lies open to censure in this Poet; its time I speak of Virgil, who without dispute▪ is more polite, as having conversed with great one, yet is he no more censure-proof then the other. I meddle not with his Aeglogues, nor yet with his Georgicks, for 'tis not there he hath most shew'd himself a Poet, and fallen into fabulous narrations. We must pass immediately to the Aeneids, and to shew you it deserves not the reputation it hath obtained,

besides that the chaste Dido is there innocently calumniated, and that there is a huge error in the Chronologie, in regard Aeneas could not go to Car∣thage, which was not built in two hundred years after the taking of Troy; I declare to you that there is not in that piece any thing of invention that may surprize an ordinary mind.

Aeneas being tossed up and down at sea, Juno promises Aeolus a wife on condicion he perform her will, as she promises one to Somnus in the Iliad. Aeneas relates to Dido the taking of Troy with the stratagem of the woodden horse, which was an invention absurd enough; but we must ex∣cuse this Author, since it is borrowed of Homer, who mentions it in his Odys∣ses. He afterward gives an account of his Voyage, and how he escaped the Gulfs of Scylla and Charybdis, as Vlysses had done. If that Grecian took a journey to hell, this Trojan must do the like; all that I wonder at is, how they met not there.

The exercises which were at the Anniversary of Anchises, were the same which were at Patroclus's death. Juturna helps Turnus in the fight, and Venus assists Aeneas, for the Gods are no less concerned in all these affairs then in those of the Trojan War. To quote yet a more studied imitation, as Thetis gave her son a buckler made by Vulcan, Venus gives her son one. I forgot erewhile to speak of this buckler, though it be one of Homers most egregious impertinences, because I would mention it with that of Aeneas, that so I might compare them together. In the Buckler of Thetis's son, the heavens were represented, with all the signes of the Zodiack, Vulcan had gra∣ved therein two different Cities, in the one there was nothing seen but feasting, dancing, and marriages; and in the midst of the Assembly might there be seen two Councellers pleading before the Judges; one said he had satisfied the debt, the other protested he had received nothing; and at length they agreed the bu∣siness should be referred to arbitration, and the people ery'd out that they de∣sired it should be so. The other City was all in arms, by reason of the many factions among the Inhabitants; some lay in ambush near a River, where the herds came to be watered, saies Homer, and as two Shepherds came near play∣ing on their pipes, they rushed on them, and having killed them, carryed away their oxen and their sheep. This tumult being heard, there came others on horseback to fight the enemy; Vulcan had besides made on this Buckler a Harvest and a Vintage, with some other conceits which I mention not. But was not this an excellent piece of sculpture? This comes nearer a true History then a Picture; and as Homer describes it, it is to be believed that all the per∣sons he speaks of marched in the buckler, and fought one with another, and talked so loud that you might have heard them. There was no less want of judgement in that of Aeneas. Virgil would perswade us that Vulcan had inclosed in it the whole fate of the Roman Empire; and thus he represents it to us: He saies there was seen in it the shee-Wolfe that suckled the twins, and Rome at a little distance, where the Sabine Virgins were ravished. There was also represented the Warre between the two peoples, and then their agreement before the Altar of Jupiter; P••rsenna there besieged the City; Cocles causes a bridg to be broken under him. Cloelia crossed the Tyber on horseback: Manlius stoutly defended the Capitoll; the Geese awoke the sleeping Sen∣tinels.

The Poet describes all these things as if they had hapned all of a day. I would fain know how all this could be represented in the same place. For old Rome who Romulus founded, was nothing like what it was in the time of the Gaules: Besides that, it must needs be very hard to represent a City sometimes full of mirth, sometimes of war, sometimes besieged by the Etrusei, sometimes by the Gaules. All these divers faces of affairs cannot be at once described; and Virgil speaks of so many particulars, that to make them be understood clearly, as he relates them; there must of necessity have been above fifty di∣visions

in the buckler, like so many several pictures to represent the different conditions of the City of Rome, and some other affair which passed at some distance; but Virgil never troubled his thoughts with any such order. It may be now seen how well he hath thrived in imitating his predecessor; and if there were an exact inquisition made, it will be found that other places lie as open to censure. He saies Vulcan forged a Thunderbolt which consisted of three parts of rain, three of a moist cloud, three of fire, and three of a south-wind. Is it not a huge absurdity to make a Smith work in moist things? This cannot be pardoned him, unless it be answered that he is conformable to the other Po∣ets who speak diversly of Vulcan, that the Gods have nothing which comes not through his hands. He makes their Arms, he makes them Jewels inriched with divers precious stones, he furnishes them with Chariots, and he builds them houses, so that at this rate it can never be discovered whether he be an Armorer, a Goldsmith, a Carpenter, or a Mason?

And thus is Virgil wanting also, as to the distinguishing of things: nor can I learn what age Ascanius was of when his Father went into Italy, for though the Poet ordinarily speaks of him as a child to be carried in ones arms, yet he attributes (very undecently) as much strength and valour unto him as to his Father. Moreover he finds us more work when he speaks of the Golden branch about which the Mythologists have sweated so much; he saies that that branch is like the Misseltoe that grows on Oaks; it must be then no small trouble to know what it is, since it must be conceived to be infallibly the Misseltoe it self.

Ovid shall come next this Poet; as being his contemporary, and I shall only quote his Book of Metamorphosis which is his Masterpiece. His only designe in that Book was, to faggot together all the fables which his predeces∣sors had invented; and if he added any thing not written before, they were only old Tales he had learned of the Spinsters in Rome.

I oppose against all the Divinities he there mentions, that little Treatise of mine, called the Banquet of the Gods, which I believe my Judge hath read, and divers in this company; and as for his several transmutations, I have already made them ridiculous enough by the discourses I have divers times made upon them in so many places, that there's none here present can pretend ignorance. Yet I shal add thus much, that though the Metamorpho∣sis be nothing but an extravagance, yet it is not so much to be found fault with when there is a pertinent reason given thereof, as to say that such a Lover was Metamorphosed into an hour-glass, because he should have no more rest after his death then he had before; but to make a man be changed into I know not what Tree, and bring in no occasion that carries any likelyhood of such a thing, then is it a thing below contempt.

Now you shall find that Ovid fails in this particular almost every where; and for to quote his incongruities, a man must quote the whole book: I will only touch at that which seems to be most solid, and fullest of Philoso∣phy. I come to the Metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls he would speak of. He puts down, That Pythagorus said that he had sometimes been Euphorbas, and that in the Temple of Juno he knew again the Buckler he had used in the Trojan Warr: But how comes it that this impertinence hath been suffered and he not laught at? I will not reproach it unto him, that the transmigration of souls out of one body into another is a falshood; we will forgive these opinions in Heathen Poets; but on condition they bring some colour for their lies, and not suffer them to lie open to contradictions.

Now here's a manifest one, not only in Ovid, but also in all those who second him in the same opinion: For they affirm that the God Mercury be∣ing to send away the souls that were in hell, to assume new bodies, makes them drink of the river of oblivion, that having lost all memory of the mi∣series they had suffered in the world before, they should make no difficulty

return thither. It may be infer'd hence, that Pythagorus could not call to mind the parts he had plaid before, and if he could have done so, I would have asked him why others had not the same priviledg. I question not but the chiefest glory Ovid can pretend to is, to have knit together so many several Narrations: But in spight of all the Pedants from whom I have heard that said ever since I was a child, I will maintain that couching of them, to be the most impertinent thing in that Poet: He that will fill a book with di∣vers stories, ought to observe some order through his work; as for example, he should follow the Chronology, or treat of every thing according to the several heads which he divides his books into; but Ovid hath done no such thing. His stories do naturally and insensibly arise out of the Metamorpho∣sis, they are nailed one to another; and 'tis easily seen he rather wanders then follows a direct line, so that there's no memory ever so great and happy, which reading his book, must not lose the occasion of the discourse where it is once interrupted. Some Metamorphosis having hapned, there chances to be somebody that relates a thing as strange as that, and after his narration, the Author introduces somewhat of his own, and then thinks himself obliged to speak of what had fallen out before in all that Countrey where this was done. To be short, his method is so unsatisfactory, that I could never read his book but I pittied him, and all those blind people that esteem him.

There were some other Latine Poets of his time, but they are not very fa∣mous, or they have left behind them nothing but Odes and Epigrams, which do us no hurt.

I come forward to the Italian Poets. There's Ariosto hath made a Ro∣mance that's pestered with most absurd inventions. His Fable is an imitation of those of the Knights errants, and yet it contains many things taken out of Ovids Metamorphosis. The flying horse of Astolphus is the Pegasus of Perseus, and both those Warriers relieve a young Virgin expos'd to a Mon∣ster. Any one may find other relations: Besides, the order is so disjoynted, that there's above fifty stories heaped one on another. The Authour at sea∣ven or eight times finishes them, and will leave you two Knights with their swords lifted up ready to strike, to go and see what another does; and then he returns to them and makes them exchange two or three blows, and then leaves them again.

Thus does he make us languish after his fooleries, and his Knights are transported from one Countrey into another with as much speed as if their horses had wings.

As concerning Tasso, we are as much beholding to him as to Ariosto, for ha∣ving turn'd our History into a Fable. This last hath made it equisitely imper∣tinent; for though he be obliged to speak as a Christian in his Jerusalem be∣sieg'd; yet he makes nothing to talk as a Pagan, and bring all the anci∣ent divinities on the Stage. There are a many more who have thus made a confusion of things without any judgement; but its enough to condemn them all at once.

To come up to our own time, I shall bring in play the most famous Poet that ever was in France: Any one may conceive I mean Ronsard; and what reputation soever his works have gotten, I shall venture to encounter them. Let a man consider his Sonnets, his Poems, and his Elegies, they are all full of ancient absurdities; and as for his Hymnes, wherein he is thought to have been most fortunate, pitch upon that of the four Seasons of the year, which is the most esteem'd because the Fables are most of his own invention. The Father and Mother which he attributes to the winter in one, are not attributed in another; and thus does he make the Seasons change parents to accommo∣date them to his designe. As for his Franciad, the same things in a manner may be said against it as against those other pieces of Poetry we have already quoted; for if Virgil hath imitated Homer, Ronsard hath imitated Virgil and

Homer together; but the imitation is so low and poor, that it will never be forgiven him. If Pallas hides Vlysses in a cloud when he goes to King Alcinous, and if Venus does the like for Aeneas when he goes to Dido, Ron∣sard must needs tell us that that Goddess did the same favour for Francus when he was to go to King Diceus, though he tels us not what necessity there was that that Heros should be so hidden. This Francus had suffered ship∣wrack at Sea as well as Aeneas, and his good Hostesses must needs fall in love with him: He slights them both, though they were very favourable to him, because he still reflects on the destinies who assure him he shall be the founder of a new Troy. All this Aeneas does, and what is yet far more ridi∣culous, for a more punctual imitation of Homer, Ronsard cannot make his Heroes go three steps without the command of some God. Sometimes Mercury must disguise himself, sometimes Venus; one while he sees them in his sleep, ano∣ther when he is waking, and a third time he meets with some auguries and predictions, wherein is contained all should happen to him; so that when it comes to pass, it must be repeated once again, nay a third time if there be any body to relate it to, which is so tedious, that it is no small trouble to read him. Is it not still the same invention for want of other? But be∣sides, would it not have been a rude impertinence among the very Pagans, to believe that the Gods should shift from one place to another so suddenly to the relief of a mortal? These Poets never suppose any addresses by prayer to those whom they have undertaken to honour, but they say there was pre∣sently thunder heard on the left hand, to assure them that Jupiter heard them. Thunder was very common in that time, in any season of the year. Ronsard must also make his comparisons and descriptions like those he made his Pa∣trons; but though that be a thing hath gotten much esteem with others, for my part it loses with me.

He makes it a great business to describe the noise of an axe striking against a tree, the great number of boards were sawen to build Ships, how many nails were employ'd, and the trouble there was to get these great Vessels in∣to the Sea. This is too mechanical, and I should have wished he had rather studied to describe mens divers passions, and things of greater importance; it would have been a matter of greater advantage to the Readers. I will not urge against him his lewd rimes. He is so conscientious in point of rime, that it cannot be judg'd whether Hectors son was called Francion or Francus; for, to answer Vanicus, he puts sometimes Francus, and to rime ••o? Nation, he saies Francion I will not tell you that his Verses are ill form'd, and that there are faults in the syntaxe; I am so fair and gentle an adversary, that I will not take the utmost advantage against him. Let us only consider the designe which Francus or Francion had to know things to come, which was not to go to hell for it, but by calling up the shades thence, by the means of the Sorceress Hyantha. She brings up to him all the Kings of France his successors, and thence had Ronsard the invention to bring in all our History in his Franciad, which though it be a great volume, yet mentions only the first race, so that there must be two books more as big, for to treat of Pipin and Capet: That had been too too long and tedious, and would have carried with it a remar∣kable inequality: but what obliged him in the mean time, to mingle our History with his Fables? since so many Authors have written it, we knew it well enough, and it would have suffi••ed to say, that Hyantha related to He∣ctors son certain actions of Pharamond, Clodion; Meroveus and the other Kings. Does he not shew himself rather an Historian then a Poet? If it be objected that this Sorceress was able, word for word, to foretell things to come, and that consequently she must be made tell them; may not I answer, that there is no likelyhood that a person possessed with divine fury, as this Sorceress was, could deliver her self in such clear tearms, and that with such a conduct▪ as if she had spoken of a thing past, whose particulars she had by heart. The grea∣test

and most credible prophecies that ever were, never had any such order, there is ever somewhat of obscurity, that they which know them, may not forget themselves, but acknowledge those have alwayes need of God; whe∣ther it be to explain what they do not fully understand, or assist them to make that effectual to them which hath been revealed. Besides all this, I can∣not conceive how it came about that Hyantha who was a gentile, should speak of Jesus Christ, the Church, Baptism, and the contempt of Idols, as if she had been already a Christian; and I wonder how Francus whom she spoke to, and who must admire these strange novelties, should never ask her what she meant: If Ronsard had obtained the pensions he pretended to, certain∣ly he would have done nobler things. He would have obliged us so far as to bring Hectors son to the banks of the Seine, to build the City of Paris to the memory of his Uncle. 'Twas an excellent imagination to believe that he would have called his City by the name of a man who had been the ruine of all their Country and Family; he would rather have called it Hector. Ron∣sard had no great reason to promote by his Poetry the ridiculous opinion of some foolish Chronologers, who would have the French descend from this Francus, though the name be rather German then Phrygian, and that it is not certain that there was a Hector, and that Troy was ever taken. Since this Poet, there have been in France an infinite number of them of all sorts; but since their works are but small and inconsiderable, and that without inven∣ting any fable, they have only renewed the ancient ones, I shall need no o∣ther reasons against them, then what I have already alleadged against ficti∣ons, as for example, that we must permit the ancients to be mad after their mode; and if we should talk idly in our way, and accommodate our selves to our own times, as they did to theirs, we must make the Gods ride in Coaches or Sedans instead of Chariots, and we should feign that Cupid shoots at us with a Pistol, instead of an arrow, and the fiction were much more natural: For since it must set our breasts a fire, it is much more like∣ly that we are wounded with a flaming bullet, then with an arrow, whose head were only of iron or some other mettal.

And thus indeed might the new Poets translate and set up the ancient Poe∣try, against which I am briefly to add this, That I find in it no certain rule, and that I cannot imagin how the Gods should be immortal, since there are some of them subject to old age. I am also to wonder why Apollo is still young, since Saturn is grown decrepit, and since I have heard talk of Gods and de∣mi▪ Gods, I could never imagin how any could be half a God.

The divers Signes which the Poets have placed in the heavens, are no less disturbance to my thoughts; I should only desire to know whether there were any stars in the firmament before they writ their Metamorphosis: But if any tell me I am too capricious in sifting of Poetry, and that I am to blame to endeavour to make it ridiculous, because the fables may haply be so ma∣ny mysteries, and that there's not any thing which includes not some hidden sence; I answer, That a man may find what he please by way of Allegory in any relation that is, and that of the same subject, an inventive mind may make a thousand explications; but this evinces not that the Poet had any de∣signe to disguise such excellent truths under his fables; nay though I should grant that the Poets did purposly disguise certain secrets, I must still never∣theless deny that any of them did it any thing fortunately. There's too much confusion in their fictions, to draw any thing certain out of them. In the be∣ginning of a fable a man may light of a piece of Mythologie, because a man may give a thing any face at the first sight; but what follows shall have no acquaintance with it; or if there be any, it will be with a very remarkable violence.

When Homer saies that Jupiter embraced Juno, and that the spring was re∣newed under them; those who endeavour to explain it, say, that Jupiter is

the heaven, and Juno the air; and that when the air is warmed by the heat of the heaven, the earth brings forth plants, as the issue of that congress. This explication thus far is easily made, but how shall it be pursued? Why should the air bear such a spight to the Trojans? Why must Neptune too, who is the Sea, be their enemy? Is it because Laomedon did not pay him his hire for building their Walls with Apollo, who is the Sunne? What an ex∣travagance is it to say that the Sea and the Sunne built the Walls of a City. But let us see whether Virgil do any better.

Aeneas is the son of Anchises and Venus; 'twere blasphemy to take this lit∣terally; for we must grant that a Goddess had prostituted her self to a mor∣tal: But I will give the Mythologists leave to say, that divers mortals have been reputed the children of Gods and Goddesses, not that they were car∣nally begotten of them, but to insinuate that they were given to those things which are in the power of those divinities. Thus the valiant are esteemed the sons of Mars, able Musitians the children of Apollo and the Muses, and the honest drunkards the children of Bacchus: Upon the same account Aeneas is said to be the son of Venus, because he was given to Love. This goes very well thus far for this Goddess brings Aeneas to Carthage, where she makes him enjoy Dido, and when he hath done, she promises him another Kingdom and another wife; but when she must come into fights and relieve him, and does other actions which have no relation with Love, what explication shall we find for them, since Venus hath ever been understood to be the pleasure which is found in amorous enjoyments? And thus the sence of fables, gi∣ven either by Physicians or moral Philosophers, is very clashing and confused, unless they take things all to pieces as they please: But though this could be so effectually done, as that it might serve for somewhat, yet would it not justifie the extravagance of the Poets.

What I have said may suffice to shew the absurdity of these explications, and it may serve for a rule to discover all the rest. It's time I speak of the Poets which are now in vogue, who invent not any fables wherein they pretend to any truth, as being not able to advance any higher then Sonnets and Songs. I need say no more against them then what I have said already, when I main∣tained that their smiles, their charms, and a few drollish expressions, are the greatest ornaments of their works, with the assistance of a few Antitheses, and some Hyperboles. But I am to assure you that they are now at the high∣est pitch of their art, and that they cannot write any thing which they must not vamp out of their Companions. All their business is to disguise things, which they do so palpably, that they easily put us into an imagination that their Poetry is like an old pair of breeches, which the Broker hath turn'd and alter'd so often, that at length he knows not which side to set out. Some will say that their Mistresses eyes are Torches to burn over them when they are dead; and others that they are Suns whence they receive their light and life. There are sometimes some petty contradictions in their conceits, which they accommodate after any fashion to come to their purpose.

It may be easily seen that all this is but a pure foolery, and that it is an em∣ployment much of kin to Love, fit for those have nothing to do.

There is yet among us another kind of Books against which I am re∣solved to speak. These Books are called ROMANCES; and to speak properly, 'tis Poetry in Prose; there are a many fashions of them. The first that ever were seen in France, treat only of Knighthood, but they are such Monsters as I shall not meddle with; they are already quelled, and I am confident there are not any in this company that esteem them. Instead of their Enchantments, there are books which treat of things with much more likelyhood, and that in my judgement, whereon they were all begotten, is the Romance of Heliodorus. That Fable made after the manner of a Hi∣story, is not free from the sottishness of the ancient Poets. All the persons

he introduces are commonly acquainted in their dreams with what they are to do, so that for to procure good dreams they had no more to do then to whi∣stle.

That Gnemon whereof Heliodorus talks, is in my opinion a very impertinent fellow: he would always represent the things which Calasiris relates to him as if they were present; and not being content to have said that the ceremonies of an Anniversary were not passed for him, and that the good old man must needs let him see them; he afterward importunes him to tell him who got the race, because he is in as much perplexity for Theagenes as any then present. This humour is repeated too often to be pleasant, and that we may have ima∣ginations like those of Guemon, we must say that the relation hath caused us so much trouble as to the Priest Calasiris. But what a contemptible fellow was that young Grecian! though Heliodorus makes him the son of an Areopa∣gite, yet we are to believe he was one of a low poor spirit. He ever and anon shakes for fear, and hath no more courage then a woman; but indeed it was fit he should not be much more valiant then Theagenes, who is the principal person in the story This man is not guilty of any generous actions, and I know not to what purpose are introduced the History of the siege of Syenea, nor the fight between the Persians and Aethiopians, since he hath no part in so great transactions, and is but a poor captive in chains; whereas it might have been as easie for the Author to have imployed him in some noble exploits of war, and so have given us some true satisfaction. Heliodorus hath also forgotten to make his story compleat: He should have spoken with Theagenes's parents as well as those of Chariclea.

The King of Aethiopia bestows his daughter in marriage on a stranger, who can hear no news out of his Country. This History deserves well to be ac∣companied with that of the Loves of Daphnis and Cloe; the Author makes these young people so foolish, and so discreet both together, that there can be nothing more unlikely: but that which puts me quite off patience is, that I be∣lieve that book hath been the occasion that divers others have written books of Shepherdry, and I assure you they have imitated it so well, that they make all their Shepherds bastards, not knowing neither father nor mother no more then Daphnis and Cloe; and that when they were children, they had been car∣ried away in their cradles by the overflowing of a River, and were afterward found by some body that brought them up. See if Baptista Guarini in his Faithfull Shepherd be not such a fool as to make use of the same invention, and if a very many others do not the same still, as if it were of the essence of Shepherdry to be lost in the infancy.

The Spaniards had Books of Shepherdry before us, Montemajor hath fur∣nished them with his Diana, wherein I find no order at all. Nay what is more, I meet with nothing in it but fables and enchantments concerning Fe∣licia. This Sorceress had a Chamber wherein Orpheus was kept inchanted, though the Poets say he was dismembred by the Priestesses of Bacchus at Thebes. He plaid on his Harp, and as he sung he acquainted the Shepherds the Statues of what Ladies those were about him: They were the Princesses of Spain, whose lives the Author might very well have known; and this is a huge piece of ingenuity, which a many Authors are beholding to, to relate by way of prophecy what hath been done in their own times. They foretell things after they are come to pass. 'Tis true, the first of our Shepherds, that is to say, Ollenix of Montsaere hath no such thing in his Pastorals of Julietta, but he had done better to imitate that, then have done what was worse. He di∣vides his books into daies, and brings the Shepherds together out of the fields and thickets, and never tels us whether they retire, nor how they live. There are a many Satyrs which lie in ambush for the Shepherdesses, but that may be forgiven, since it may be supposed he speaks like the Poets, who make those ru∣ral Gods as frequent in the woods, as if they were but Boars or Stags. It is

also no less to be observed what he makes those do whose loves he describes. His Shepherdesses are the most impudent things in the world, they do not on∣ly discover their passions to the Shepherds without any modesty; but they run after them through hills and dales, as it were to force them to their Loves. Their discourses and their verses are so abominable, that if I read but a leaf, 'tis enough to put my thoughts out of order for fifteen daies, if I do not sud∣denly take some antidote.

All the adventures a man meets with are no other, then that the Shepherds and Shepherdesses avoid, or seek one another; but to make amends for this, when they are altogether in the same place, there's some one relates a story every day. Though they are many times Shepherdesses that are put upon this task, yet they confidently cite Greek and Latine Authors, (as if it were to be conceived that rusticall persons, nay and women, had read so much) and which is more, they bring in the choicest examples out of the Philosophers and other illustrious men. Besides the Author not considering that he made them all heathens, makes them quote divers passages and personages of the Bible. As for example, there was one said,

That as Tobias who was blind and destitute of all things, became through the means of the Angel more happy then ever he had been; so that poor Lover of whom she speaks, came to be happy by the assistance of his Page, whom God stirred up to relieve him.

'Tis as true that Ollenix does very much observe the Chronology: For though by all circumstances it should seem that his Pastorals are things as ancient as the birth of Jupiter, since there have not been since that time in Arcadia any such as he describes; yet the find stories that his Shepherdesses tell, relate to passages of these times, one at Vevice, another at Florence, and a third at Bar∣celona; nay there are some so late as that they happened in the reigne of the great King of France. The Shepherdess that speaks, commends that Prince, as though she had known him, which is the grossest impertinence that can be; for though this were not a mistake of the Authors, as to the time, yet is it an oversight great enough, in regard such savage people as he brings in, could not possibly know so many particulars of France, which lay at too great a di∣stance from them.

After so many defaults of judgement, and the profanation of so many passages of holy Scripture as he hath quoted to so little purpose, I believe, un∣der favour, that if this Author were now living, they could do him no less favour then send him to the Gallies for having so mispent his time. Nor hath England wanted its Arcadia, whereof it is not long since we have had the translation. I find no more order in that then in the rest, and there are ma∣ny things whereof I am not at all satisfied. At the very beginning you have the complaints of the Shepherds, Strephon and Clavis upon the departure of Vrania, without telling us who she was, nor whither she went. Now an Author ought never to begin his book, but he should mention the persons principally concern'd in the History, whose actions he is to raise up beyond any of the rest; yet this man makes afterward no more mention of these two Shepherds then if he had never named them; and though he bring them in again at some sports before Basilius, yet that signifies nothing, since a man finds no period of their adventures, and that those verses wherein they speak of their Loves, are so obscure, that they may be taken for the Oracles of a Sybill. It is true that Sir Philip Sidney dying young, might have left his Work imperfect; but there's no reason we should suffer by that misfortune, and be obliged to take a thing for perfect because it might have beene made so.

There's nothing now hinders me from speaking of Astraea, which I put after the Arcadia, as being a later piece, though we had seen it before the other. I know there are a many defend it, but since I have put myself on

this task, can it be thought I should say nothing of it? Is it fit that Book should be called Astraea, since that in all the volumes of it there is more spoken of Diana, Galathea, Silvia and others, then of that Shepherdess? When Hylas speaks in good earnest, and gives greater testimonies of his foul inconstancy, must it not be confessed he is a fool in the highest degree, and that consequently he is not slighted ••s he ought to be? If I could be per∣swaded he is no fool, and that he did it in a merry humour, I answer, It is a great omission, in such large discourses not to have let slip one word to tell us so, and withall to satisfie us as to what scruples we might conceive upon the inequality of his disposition.

As for Sylvander, I am in doubt whether the reasons of his Philosophy are alwaies good, and whether he do not sometimes fall into the subtilest of Platonical Idea's. All the Histories which are related concern strange per∣sons, but there is but one and the same invention to bring them all into For∣rests; 'tis ever some Oracle sends them thither. There are also in some pla∣ces, very long discourses, which I wish the Author had never made, and en∣deavoured to make the work compleat. Then might we have made a more certain and solid judgement of them. But I dare affirm, from what we have in our hands, that there is no likelyhood there were in Forrests any Shep∣herds so civiliz'd in Meroveus his time, since we have the assurance of Hi∣story that all the Gauls were in those times very savage. I have observed also a horrid fault in the Chronology; for Childerick having succeeded his father, and having been driven out of his Kingdom in the time when all these Loves happened, Clotilda had remained a long time with her Uncle, and was at least sixteen years of age, as she is described. Now Childerick was eight years in exile, and he reigned fifteen years afterward, and his son Clovis did not marry Clotilda till seaven years after his death, so that by this account this Princess was above five and forty years of age, whereas our Histories tell us, that she was very fair and very young.

If the Author must needs invent fables of Astraea, they might have been so couched into the History, as not to make any disorder of time. Notwith∣standing all this, and many other things over tedious to relate, that Book hath gotten so into the vogue, that I have divers times heard Lysis and his companions say, that it was the Breviary of the Amorous.

There are other Romances which speak not of Shepherds, but Princes and Gentlemen. We have of this kind the Argenis, a book I am not so ready to grant that reputation to that many doe. You find in the beginning.

That the Vniverse had not yet ador'd Rome, nor the Ocean given place to Tyber, when, upon the Coast of Sicily, where the River Gelas enters the Sea, there arriv'd in the Port a strange ship, out of which came ashore a young Knight, transcendently handsom.

Who sees not but this observation is too general for so particular a circum∣stance? Had the question been about the conquest of one of the four parts of the world, or that an universal change of Religion and Customes had hapned over the whole earth, it haply would not have beene unhandsome to note the time so particularly; but since it only concerns the time of a Ships arrival in Sicily, it had been enough to have said what it was of the clock, whether it was night or day, Summer or Winter; or what could have beene most presumed, it might have been permitted to relate the con∣dition the affairs of that Island were in at that time. To be short, no man will deny me but that if the Authour had said that Meleander reigned at that time in Sicily, and that Lycogenes who had taken up Arms against him, was upon the point of concluding a peace when such a Vessell arrived into the Haven, it had spoken more judgement. When there is a failing in the first word, I know not what may be expected in the pursuit: You find immediately after, that a Lady finds two young Knights so handsome, that

she made a vow to have their pictures, and though she accomplished not her vow till a long time after, the Authour diverts from the narration to relate certain verses which she caused to be put under the picture: This is a disturbance of the order, to acquaint us with a thing which was not very necessary. You will find also all through the book, certain verses which are thrust in to interrupt the History: and I know not any which are not unseasonably brought in, except some hymnes that are sung to the honour of the Gods: As for the divers adventures that are in it, there is not any thing more miraculous then what we find in ordinary Love-stories. A young Prince is brought up obscurely, for fear he might have beene made away: Certain robbers carry him away, and sell him to a King, that makes as much of him as if he were his own son. This King losing a battel, the young Prince is taken and carryed into his Country, where he is redeemed by his mother. A while after it being discovered what he was, the fame of Argenis's beauty makes him fall in love with her. He goes into Sicily disguised as a maid to live with her. Certain Rebels being desirous to have kil∣led K. Meleander, he defends him, and after he had made himself known to his Mistress, goes away. A while after he returns again in mans habit, and ob∣tains the favour of Meleander and Argenis; but at length his enemies force him to quit Sicily: He is carried twice into Mauritania, and the second time he relieves the Queen of that Countrey. She sends him back with Ar∣chombrotus, who is acknowledged to be the son of Meleander, who quit∣ting the pretentions he had to marry Argenis, he resignes her to Poli∣archus.

This is a summary of all the story wherein I find not ought to be ravished at. On the contrary, I think it should be very unpleasant, since the cu∣stomes of Countreys are not observ'd, and that there was never any such government in Sicily as you find there. Those who pretend to criticismes, tel us there is a key to the Argenis, but I fear me the lock is so much out of or∣der that it cannot open that Cabinet, where we are promised to see such rarities. They will have Meliander to be Henry the third, Poliarchus Hen∣ry the fourth, and Argenis to be France; but though the Authour should have meant it so, what ground is there to make an Analogy between our History and those divers Romantick adventures? You find indeed that the discourses of State relate to our way of Government, and when he speaks of the Hyperefanians, all the world knows he means the Huguenots, that Vsinulca is Calvin, and Aquilius the Emperour: but we go no further, and when we have known all these explications we have learned but very triviall and ordinary things.

Why should we love truth better under a vail then when she is naked? Some may haply come and tell me I should not speak of this book as an or∣dinary Romance, as being full of maxims of State which prefer it before all other; doe but read any book that treats of nothing but Politick know∣ledg and you will find a hundred times as much in it. That this book rais∣ed it self into such an esteem at the beginning was, because in other Ro∣mances those things were not commonly so frequent, and the Authours made it their business to describe the passions. Besides, any other discourse whatever were as much to the purpose as those you find in the Argenis, and I wish the Authour had set himselfe rather to speak only things ne∣cessary.

When Archombrotus found Poliarchus at his Mothers, these two Lovers became furious at the first interview; they shook again for indignation, and viewed one another from head to foot, as two men that were upon the point to fight. All this is good; but I would fain know whether they spoke or no, and what they said in the presence of Hyamisbe, who must

needs oblige them to some discourse. Two words would have satisfied me; but this was the hardest nut of all to crack. These Authours when they fall into such lurches, pass over them slightly, and I have observed in very famous Books, that when a discourse was to be made on some ticklish occasion, you only find that such a one said some fine words to his Mistress, and we are satisfied; but when it comes to an easie conjuncture, you have discourses in their full length. As for any esteem may be made of the La∣tine of the Argenis I am clearly of the contrary opinion, for there are a many new words which were never currant at Rome, so that if Salust returned into the world, he would hardly understand it. A man may lawfully add some words to a language that is in vogue, because use may in time naturalize them; but we must leave a dead language such as we find it in the Monuments of Antiquity, and it is sacriledg to meddle with it.

Now I am to let you know what a thing the History of Lysander is. I protest to you that book hath no invention in the world. The Authour having heard that the best Romances should be full of miraculous Adven∣tures, hath no other secret to win us into admiration, then to make a many unexpected rencontres, wherewith he hath filled his book, which is a thing very low and extream tedious.

Lysander coming from Calista's relieves her father against Robbers in the Forrest of Fontainbleu; the next day he is second to Claranges against Lidian his Mistresses brother. Cleander leaves his wife to go to Holland with these brave adventures: There Lysander relieves the husband and bro∣ther of his Calista. They return like strange Knights to challenge some French at a Tournament, which done, they take off their Helmets, and discover themselves. Lysander being in Burgundy, sick, is comforted by a Capuchin, whom he finds to be Claranges, and being gone like a Pilgrim to Montserrat, he finds Cleander and his servants clad like slaves, having been taken by a Pirate upon the Coast of Genua as they returned from I∣taly. The Sermon being begun, they find the Preacher to be Lidian, whom an amorous despair had forced into devotion, as well as his rivall Claranges. They bring him back to Paris, and discover themselves in these habits one after another.

After the death of Cleander, and many other adventures, Lysander goes over to a Tournament in England, where he fought against Lidian, and at length knew him, and Alcidon and Berontus who were there upon the same occasion. In the mean time Lucidan having demanded leave of the King to fight with Lysander who had killed his Uncle; his father Adrastus appears for his son, so does Dorylas Calistas's father, and Calista her self dis∣guised. The Amazon Hypolita makes a fourth; but the combat is staid by the coming in of Lidian, Alcedon, and Berontus who had been separted from Lysander by a Tempest. Not to tell you the whole book by heart, you see by these examples, it contains nothing but meetings and discourses. Some are separated, others return, and then they all meet at an hour, so that the Authour deals by these persons as a Puppet-player by his Puppets, makes them enter and exit off the Stage as he pleases. And this is all the subtilty in it.

There are other passages farre enough from probability of being so as they are related. Who will believe that Lysander having hurt Cloridan with a Lance, a kinsman and four of his friends should come to Cleanders to assassi∣na••e him? How were they admitted into the house all armed, and what rage could animate them to such a mischief, since Cloridan denied he knew any thing of it? Yet a while after, the Author wanting an invention to find his Lysander fighting work, brings him a challenge from that Cloridan:

As for the Operatour that dressed the cloathes in stead of the body, 'tis a Magick I permit in a Romance. But as to the spirit that appears to Cleander and prays him to bury his body which was in the bottom of a wel, methinks it is a tale made in imitation of that of Athendorus, but not so good, for certain Pagans were of belief, that those who were not buried, were not ad∣mitted into the Elysian fields; but as for Christians, that they are so care∣full to be put into holy ground, 'tis onely out of devout custom, and those that miss of it are not accounted the less happy for that, so that it is not credible a soule can be troubled with these considerations in the other World, and disturb its own rest, to come and desire one to bury the body wherein it had once dwelt: But this spirit is besides very complementall; it asks Cleander whether he will command him any service into that Coun∣trey whither he goes. As for his promise to give him notice of his death three days before it should happen, 'tis a question whether God permits any such premonitions. For my part I believe they are onely Saints have that favour done them. Yet this spirit comes one morning to give Clean∣der notice of his death; but the manner of it is very pleasant. 'Tis thought that spirits can in a moment translate themselves whither they please, and can finde us as easily in the bottom of a Sellar, as on the top of a Tower: They need no staires to go up not down by, nor yet door nor window to come in at: But this knocks at Cleanders Castle gate till the Gentleman himself came and opened; but it was out of modesty, because he would no take him unawares.

'Tis as hard a thing to believe that a young French Gentleman, such as Lidian, should in a little while preach so famously in Spanish, The Author forgetting at length that he had undertaken an History, insensibly falls in∣to Fables, like those of Amadis. He makes Calista bear Armes, he makes Hippolita fight with Lysander, as if the delicacy of a Woman could under∣goe that hardship. Lysander goes from Rouen to Paris all armed, as if 'twere the mode of France to goe so in times of peace, or as if we still li∣ved in the age of Knight-Errantry.

Henry the Great, desirous to doe justice by way of Armes, permits the accuser of Calista to fight with any that should defend her. She in the mean time is placed on a Scaffold hanged with black, according to the an∣cient custome. There are other strange accidents, as when Hippolita and her maid Erifila keep the Arms at the Tournament. He should not have put in adventures so easily discoverable for lies; for they are so extraordi∣nary, that if there had been any such thing, many yet alive would have seen them, and somewhat might have been found to that purpose in the Hi∣story of that King. To conclude, at the marriage of Calista, a Nymph fills the Hall with darkness, and afterward made an obelisk arise, whence there issued so much water, that most were in fear to be drowned; at length the water having ceased, they read the Prophesies which were writ∣ten thereon. The Author tells us not whether this was done by art, or by Enchantment, for he knew not himself, and his designe was to pursue his stile of Knight-Errantry.

And thus have you an account of Lysanders History, and if you think be deserves any esteem for his language, I tell you there are in it a world of Gascon phrases, and the periods are sometimes so long and so confound∣ed, that a man hath much adoe to find any sence in them.

Nor doe I believe that the Adventures of Polyxena are able to make good the cause of all other Romances of this age: 'Tis a book ill begun, and worse pursued. The Author says almost nothing of himself, Polix∣ena or Cloriman spake all. Besides, all the successes are so common, that they deserve not the relation. There are many other books among us,

which I mention not, for they having the same defects as I have blamed in the others, are already answered. Those that have read them, know there's nothing but repetitions without any orders. There is besides gene∣rally in all, an insupportable want of judgement. The Author saies that such a one hath told his story, he saies that another hath related his to him▪ as it follows there; and this letter relates the relation of another, so that•• the reader is lost, and knows not who speaks: It may be said, the Au∣thor and three or four more altogether. 'Twere handsome to see a man that should speak to us three hours together, in the same manner as ano∣ther had spoken to him. Should not the audience be sometimes deceived, thinking it were he himself that spoke? There is yet another huge foo••e∣ry, which must come into all adventures; and that is, if some secret be to be discovered, somebody shall speak too loud, that some of his enemies that are hidden somewhere 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him, shall over-hear it. These Authors con∣sider not, that there are few such ••ools, as being all alone, will complain aloud, and make open relations of their misfortunes.

By all these impertinences which I have observed in Romances and Poe∣try, you perceive, most just Judge, that it is not without reason that I con∣temn them; And I must tell you withall, that though there were one work of this nature, which were free from all these imperfections I have quoted, I should not esteem it so much as the most inconsiderable relation that were true You learn out of History, things that you may alleadg for authorities; but of a Romance there's no fruit at all On the contrary, they are the loss of many minds, whereof I shall give sufficient testimony before I leave this place▪ Some young people having read them, and see∣ing all happens according to the wishes of the Adventurers whom they treat of; desire to lead such a life, and by that means quit those professi∣ons which they were fit for: All men generally have much reason to inform against such Books, since there is not a Cockney in Paris, nor waiting gen∣tlewoman elsewhere, but will have them, and having read three or four pa∣ges, thinks not her self able to read lectures to us. This is the reading that instructs them to be talking gossips, and robs us of the means of innocent courtships. If you consider all these things, you will order that none in this Assembly make henceforth any esteem of such pernicious books, which may be a means by degrees to deliver the rest of the people of France out of their errors.

Clarimond having here ended his plea, there were few but were of his o∣pinion, such strong reasons had he produced; but A••selm turning towards Musardan, asked him what he had to say against him. 'Twas expected he would have made an excellent Oration full of Rhetorical flowers; but he be∣gan to speak thus. Sirs, This Gentleman, I must confess, hath spoken the truth in most places. I esteem no more then he does, most of the books he hath named; but if I have the honour to see you at Paris within some time, I will shew you a Book I am now about, which shall exceed all this.

This fellows impertinence was insupportable; Clarimond was suffered to speak against Romances, because of his strength of wit and the reasons he brought; but for that wandring Jew, that blamed what he was not able to maintain, he deserved to be tost in a blanket. Besides, it was thought base in him to speak against what he had promised to maintain; but he could not have kept his word had he endeavoured it, because he had not read all the books that Clarimond had quoted, nor had he the wit to defend them: they therefore made a great hooting at this ignorant writer; and Lysis having caused the noise to cease, fell a checking of him for having forsaken his cause: he told him he should not write his History, as he had once resolved he should: He seeing

that they openly affronted him, made no answer, but shook his noddle, and stunk behind the rest. Clarimond omitted not to importune the Judge, say∣ing, pronounce the sentence on my side, I beseech you; Musardan agrees with me, and here's none opposes what I have said. Philiris, who profes∣sed Letters as well as Clarimond, was resolved to contradict him out of emulati∣on. He knew Musardan could say nothing to the purpose, and his intenti∣on was to take his part. Taking therefore oportunity to speak, he rose up and desired Anselm to grant him audience that he might answer the calumnies of Clarimond. The Judge granted his request, and all being attentive to this new diversion, he spoke to this purpose:

The Oration of PHILIRIS in vindicati∣on of Fables and Romances.

I Know not what consideratons, most learned and most just Judge, I know not what strange humour hath engaged Clarimond into such an Oration as he hath now made, nor can I tell whether he pretend to gain reputa∣tion by opposing the common opinion; but whether he have spoken in good earnest, or hath only shewn how farr he could go against his own judge∣ment, there is a necessity he should be answered, lest what he hath spoken may be taken for truth by those that have heard it. And since you have been chosen to judge who should bring better reasons concerning the mat∣ter in hand, I thought my self obliged to speak, that the noblest and best cause in the world might not suffer any prejudice for want of defence. Cla∣rimond hath endeavoured to make appear, that in all Poetry, and in all Ro∣mances there's nothing to be found but may be censured; but O ye Gods! does he not fear, that so many excellent men as he hath injur'd, may not be forced to quit the happiness of the Elysian fields, to come hither and seem cruel to punish his calumnies, or at least to encourage me in their protecti∣on? The latter I am more then confident of; and I doubt not but I shall say whatever makes for my purpose, since I shall not want the suggestion•• of those excellent Genius's. Ah! Divine Homer, who would ever have thought it would have been necessary to seek reasons for thy defence in so great an Assembly as this? Yet it must be done: and since thy Iliad is a∣bused, as containing only the fights which passed in the solitude of Achil∣les, with the death of Patroclus and Hector, it satisfies to answer that it was not thy designe to do any more, and as thou saist in the beginning, thou in∣tendedst only to write of the anger of the son of Peleus: The rest of the History was sufficiently well known among the Greeks, so that thy pains were well spared; and as for the name Iliad, which is also condemn'd, it is proper enough, since the fights it treats of happened during the siege of Ili∣um. As for the Gods whom the Poet makes so valiant in this war, as if the Greeks and Trojans were the only men in the world, there's nothing to be wondred at, for at that time they were more considerable then all the world besides: and it was necessary to engage the force of Europe against that of Asia. Besides, though the Iliad mentions only the care of the Gods over those people, it infers not they had forgotten the rest, nor yet that Homer had forgot them; but they could not be spoken of without digressing from the matter in hand. And that those whom these different divinities affect most, are not alwayes delivered from misfortunes, is not to be wondred at, since they are so divided that one power opposes another. As for their trou∣blesome

quarrels, they are things pardonable in Fables. I come to the compa∣risons which Clarimond finds so much fault with, because they are taken from hunting. To what can fighting be better compared then to that exer∣cise which is as it were a noviceship to the War. That Homer makes his Warriors sometimes like furious beasts; is it not the greater miracle, in so much as it so divercifies the accidents by comparisons, that they seem to be quite different, though they are drawn from the same beast. As for exam∣ple, he often draws his comparison from a Lyon, and if a great Heros be to fight with some miserable souldier, he saies 'tis as if a Lyon should fall up∣on a sheep; if there comes some brave Captain to relieve that Soldier, he compares him to a good Shepherd that will defend his flock; and if one Heros fight with another, 'tis as if one Lyon fought with another. And thus he goes on, and for my part I find it an incomparable grace. For when he speaks of the same men, he ever uses the same comparisons, which is much more rational then to make them sometimes Suns, sometimes Trees, and sometimes Rivers. The several natures of so many things cannot be found together. As for the other comparisons, they are not so obscene and low as is imagined. Clarimond finds fault also with the Language, and sayes Homer spoke not good Greek, because so many Countries disputed about him whose child he should be: but he is to know that it is also said he is not any Countryman on earth, but that he came down from heaven. If he use divers dialects, and some words which are strange to other common authors, 'tis because Poetry being the language of the Gods, hath a peculiar stile which is not familiar to men. I will go no further for a testimony of the excellence of his discourse, then the comon opinion, that he is full of pre∣cepts which generally serve all mankind. His sentences are not so low; as you have been told, but they cannot be otherwise conceived; and if you find not in them that majesty that is expected, we are to blame Clarimond, who by his translation of them into French, hath rob'd them of those beauties which they have in their own language. The most learned Philo∣sophers have sought them out to ground their tenents on, and the Painters and Armorers, and the subtilest mechanicks, have acknowledged so much from this Poet, that they confess they have learned their professions of him. He is accordingly called the Master of all Arts, and he is painted vomiting, and all the other Poets licking what he had cast up. As for Military persons, they are the most beholding to him for his instructions, and out of his Works may be learned with what courage a man should assault his enemies. how souldiers should obey, and the Generals command, and with what masculine eloquence a Captain should encourage his troops. As for the dis∣courses of the Heroes in the midst of a fight, they are not so irrational: They might have been come out of the charge, as being weary of fighting, and in the time of that repose, they might discover themselves one to ano∣ther. As for the combat of Ajax and Hector, that they made use of stones, is not so strange, since fury thinks no weapons amiss. That esteem which Alexander and others had of Homer, is no fiction; all Historians agree in it, and there was never any imagined that that great Poet did ever doe any thing indecent: In his time, and in that of Achilles's, Luxury and Pride did not reigne as they do now, so that the Heroes might well condescend to dress what they ate themselves; and to mention that delicacies should be presented to them at Feasts, shews the honour was done them even to those small circumstances, which haply custom had in those times made the grea∣test. If Vlisses built a Vessel, necessity forced him to a thing which was not dishonourable to a Warriour, and it was only a great Boat which needed not a Carpenter so much to help him, besides that the solitude of his Nymph would have been troubled with the sight of so many other men. And as for

the bed he tels Penelope of, he might have done somewhat by way of recrea∣tion, as the pastimes of Princes are divers. In fine, the places and the times might have rendred those things commendable, which now seem ridiculous. As for the lowness of spirits which my adversary objects to Vlysses, I main∣tain it to be false. That this great Heros wept at the relation of the Tro∣jan Warr, 'twas not for the hardships he had endured there himself, but those of his friends, and perhaps he wept out of affection, which is a thing permitted the most generous; it may be he regretted the absence of his wife; Alcinous knew his condition by his majestick countenance, though he had been found naked, and the proffer he made him of his daughter, is a certain argument of the respect he bore him. If this Vlysses be ill handled by the Lovers of Penelope, the fault is to be imputed to them, or at the worst to his disguise, which was so far necessary, that he could not get into his own house but by some artifice, his ancient acquaintances being much lost. It was the will of Pallas he should go through those afflictions, who would not presently succour him as she might have done, to shew that the Divinity will not help us unless we also help our selves; and permits the good to suf∣fer, to recompence them afterwards with happiness far transcending their former misery. I will not grant Clarimond that Homer was a beggar, and got his living by singing at dores; I know divers have been of that opinion, be∣cause he was blind, and that such musitians commonly are so; but 'tis not likely a beggar could conceive such rare things. Where should we have learned the art of War, and the councels of Captains? Are these things re∣vealed to low-spirited persons? If it be true that such a Musician could sing the Iliad and the Odyssey through all Greece, I should rather believe he had composed those incomparable Works, then that he did only own them, having found them in the Authors notes, who was some great person of the age. Clarimond desirous to discredit the Odyssey, would have us believe there's nothing in't but Country-Tales; but the worthy things of it he o∣mits: Is not that courtesie of Polyphemus to Vlysses an excellent passage, where he tels him that he will eat him the last because he gave him good wine? could the humour of a savage be better represented? As for the name of Nobody which Vlysses took on him, the subtilty was so fortunate that the other Cyclops sought not after him to punish him for the mischief he had done to their companion, because they believed Nobody had struck out his eye, but that he had done it himself. When an action is inconside∣rable in it self, yet if great effects follow it, 'tis thought great. The Meta∣morphosis of Vlysses companions follows, and Clarimond scofs at this Heros, in that he resisted the charms which had caused the others to be transformed, and suffered himself to be so carried away by the caresses of the Sorceress, that he openly lay with her; but I shall here find a Mythology shall take away the contradiction, and shew that Homer hath not made Vlysses conti∣nent and luxurious together. Circe the daughter of the Sun, signifies the Celestial influence which incited the Grecians to follow pleasures; they suffer∣ed themselves to be easily overcome; but Vlysses opposing all such inclinati∣ons, was not charmed by the same drink, that is to say, followed not the same vices Circe entertains him into her bed, as being extreamly in love with him. This shews that a wise man, such as he was, rather commands then o∣beys the Celestial influence, and that when he is confident that it advises him to nothing but what is vertuous, he shuns it not, but joynes himself to it by a happy marriage, that all things it signifies may come to pass to his own glory. And thus we may satisfie those that imagin there are any absurdities in fables. As for the rencontre of the Syrens, it is also taken for example in ma∣ny noble occasions, and there are such excellent Mythologies in it, that it's a thing defends it self As for Vlysses's journey to hell, 'twas not so needless, since

Circe would have him go thither, to see what wonders were there, that he might be encouraged to live well by the reward of the good, and the punish∣ment of the bad. Thus is there nothing superfluous in Homers Works▪ and if in the Iliad Achilles's horse prophecies, 'tis to shew us that the Divinity will sometimes make use of irrational creatures to tell us of our duty. I have no more to say upon this occasion, but that though Penclope had been as old as Clarimond would make her, yet it was not impossible but that many young men might court her, were it only for her means. And as for Helene, though her beauty might lose much of its glory, yet Menelaus might have tryed all means to have her again, as if she had been as fair as ever, and he as deeply in love with her, in regard he and all the Greeks were resolved and sworn to the enterprise; and if they had left Troy without doing any thing, it would have been a great discredit to them. Clarimond having sufficient∣ly censured Homer, falls upon Virgil; and I am not to wonder he should fight against Poetry in the gross, since he attacques this Poet. He blames him for making Aeneas go to Carthage, and 'twas for that he obtained the greatest reputation among the Romans. They thought it a wonderfull piece of conduct, to have gone so high for the motive of the Warr between Rome and Carthage, when the dispute was for nothing but the Empire of the World. The City of Carthage, and Juno the Patronesse of it, bore an im∣mortal hatred in his opinion against the race of Aeneas, who had forsaken Dido, and thence arose the Wars between the Punick Nation and the La∣tine. 'Tis true, these are but Poetical fictions, yet they give the mind great satisfaction. As for the places where Vi••gil hath imitated Homer, I think it is his chiefest glory; it being his business to describe what passed after the Wars of Troy, in the person of one of the most illustrious Heroes that were there, 'twas fit he should conform himself to his stile who had first writ on that subject. Clarimond here takes occasion to speak of Achilles's Buckler in relation to that of Aeneas, for that agitation of mind, whereinto the desire to calumniate had put him, hath been the reason that being at a loss in his order, he hath confounded many things. He blames Homer for descri∣bing what was engraven in this Buckler, because it should seem to make the History the more true: but will he not acknowledge that if the Poet being to speak of the pleading of two Advocates, and the fighting of two contra∣ry Factions, if he make the Reader as 'twere hear their noise, and see them march to do their necessary actions, he does as good as say that the work was so perfect, that by the only countenances of the persons that are seen there∣in, it might be conceived they should say such and such things, and by what they did then, might be judged what they had done, and what they should do. Thus it appears Homer hath rather done a miracle in this case, then commit∣ted any fault of judgement; and for Virgil in the Buckler of Aeneas, he de∣serves not to be censured for having graven in it the most remarkable things should happen to Rome. It may be they were severed by divisions, as Clari∣mond would have it; but suppose they were not, and that there had been but one City of Rome in the Buckler, and that in one place there was repre∣sented the Bridg broken under Horatius Cocles, and in another the Capitoll besieged, and at some distance another thing, though they were adventures should happen at several times, the invention was by so much the more no∣ble; for this bearing the nature of a Prophecy, things must have been con∣fused, to be conformable to the custome of the Divinities, whose Oracles have ever somewhat of obscurity. From hence Clarimond falls into frivo∣lous reprehensions, and is angry that Virgil should say that Vulcan forged a Thunder bolt for Jupiter, consisting of three darts of rain, and three of fire; he believes not that Smiths can work in moist things; but does he not perceive that this is spoken mysteriously, and that Vulcan signifies that sub∣tile

air that is changed into fire in the upper region, and violently breaking through what obstacles do environ it, makes that noise which we call thun∣der, causing at the same time the rain to fall out of those moist clouds which it hath burst asunder. Thus do the Physicians hide their secrets under these fables, and that Vulcan is Jack of-all-trades among the Gods, 'tis to shew that the operations both of Art and Nature are not effected without fire, ei∣ther corporal or spiritual, which is the vehemence of the action, or the dili∣gence of the workmen. Clarimond troubles himself also with trivial particu∣larities, as to know the true age of Ascanius, and whether it was a golden bough that Aeneas found. He quarrels too much with words, and I think therefore deserves no answer▪ He considers not the excellent phrase of Vir∣gil, nor the sweet fluency of his Verses, which is so apparent, that one that understands no Latine may perceive it. He next sets upon Ovid, and blames him so much against reason, that he will never meet with any of his opini∣on. He thinks it not well that he should speak of so many different Divi∣nities; as if he could possibly speak of any thing else in a time wherein he was bred up in idolatry. As for his Metamorphoses, they are not so extrava∣gant as he would make them at least to make them appear so he should have quoted them; but for his part, he mentions only the opinion of Pythagoras of Metempsychosy. If that Philosopher had never been Euphorbas, 'twas his fault that first set the story on foot, not theirs that writ it since; yet if a man would maintain he had said truth, he might easily do it, though it be held that Mercury made the souls drink the water of oblivion when they as∣sum'd new bodies; For it may be imagined that Pythagoras alone had the priviledg not to drink of it, that he might tell others that he had been di∣vers times in the world, and that it was so with them all, as who passed some∣times into the bodies of beasts, that so they might abstain from all creatures that had any soul in them. Clarimond endeavouring to bring Ovid quite into discredit, hath not stuck to say that there is no order at all in his nar∣rations. He should have considered that Ovid is a Poet, and not an Histori∣an, and that if he observed that order which Historians must not transgress, his Metamorphoses had not been near so pleasant. Poetry is an art full of fury, whose ornament is variety, and this is the reason that Ariosto for our greater diversion, hath so interlaced his narrations. Nor is Tasso to be bla∣med for quoting the ancient Divinities in his descriptions; he were no Poet that should not use Poeticall figures. And so I pass by all those Poets which may be vindicated in that one word; and now I come to Ronsard, whom Clarimond hath also presumed to quarrel with, and reproach with a many things he hath said concerning the ancient Divinities, and his design to imi∣tate Homer and Virgil. I cannot put my self to the trouble to answer his impertinent reasons, for they were so feeble that I did not regard them nor suffer them to make any impression on my mind. I only remember that he blamed Presages, and some other superstitions, without which a man cannot speak naturally of any matter of Antiquity. He also rejects the descripti∣ons which have made Ronsard highly famous and esteemed; for the discour∣ses of a Poet should not be so severe as those of a Stoi••k Philosopher; and sometimes for the diversion of the readers, 'tis haply necessary he should digress to the description of the noise of a Cart-wheel when it is overburthen∣ed, or the cryes of birds of prey when they fight. As for the sweetness of Ronsards verse, it could have been no greater considering his time. All the world confess that the honour of having opened the dore to the advancement of the French Tongue is due to him. Another thing my adversary quarrels at in his Franciad is, that all our History is thrust into it; but is there any thing so clear as that Ronsard began to write in a Poetical stile, so that there would have been no inequality in the piece though he had finished it? And if Clarimond think it ill that Hyanta should relate things in such order as if

she had read an effective story out of some book, and if he think her expres∣sions too clear for a Prophetess in a fury, I will not condemn him, because I said erewhile that Prophecies ought to be obscure; for I maintain hers were such, and my reasons shall be but what Clarimond hath said himself. He saies that sometimes she spoke of the mysteries of Christian Religion, which though we who understand them, think a thing clear, yet Francus could not possibly hear any thing more obscure. To Clarimonds question, Why he desired not to know what it was, and how Hyanta should speak of such things being a Pagan, I answer, That Francus passed it by as a thing unknown that touched him not; and as for Hyanta, she was so possessed by the spirit that made her speak that she knew not what she had said her self. I doubt not but Ronsard would have given us this satisfaction, had he continued his work. As for the designe he had to bring Francus into the Country of the Gaules there to build a City, he is very unjustly blamed, since that being a Poet, he was permitted to feign what he pleased, besides that his fiction was not at such a distance from the truth, but it had the warrant of most of our Historians. When Clarimond had censured Ronsard, to whom so many Po∣ets of his time gave place, he could not but contemn all the rest, yet hath he not presumed to sift their works, lest it would have been too much pains, for it must be conceived it could be no small disquisition to search out reasons so destructive to the common opinion: He therefore generally condemns them all, because they have quoted the ancient Fables. It must not be believed in his opinion▪ that there can be any good Mythologies, whereas we have such abundance of most excellent ones, that I know not how he hath been so im∣pudent as to say so. I pass by all his proofs as being of no weight. I know my Judge hath read books enough to have learned the contrary to what he hath alleadged. But it is to much purpose for me to be angry with a man who cannot be reconciled to the Poetry of the present age. Is it possible that so many excellent wits as are at the Court could never do any thing to satisfie him? Their sweet songs, are they not able to charm him and make him change his opinion? But here he comes to the second part of his Ora∣tion, and falls foul upon the books he calls Romances. He hath dealt most unworthily by the Aethiopian History, and not finding any thing in that piece deserving just censure, he quarrels with little formalities. He thinks it not fit that Pagans should regard their dreams who are so ful of superstition. That natural impatience that Gnemon is in to know the end of a History, he would make a strange incongruity, and not considering that the world is furnished with cowards as well as stout men, he falls out with the Author for making that young man fearfull. Though Theagenes hath discovered his generosity in all actions whatsoever, yet he excuses him not, and thinks he hath not done enough. He would also perswade us that the Loves of Daph∣nis and Cloe are impertinent, though they excell in an incomparable natural∣ness. And there he begins his controversie with Pastorals, against which, all he can say is, that the books which treat of that subject, imitate one another. This makes nothing against them, if so be they are good; and what he hath alleadged against Diana of Montemajor is of no great weight. Though the order of it should be disturbed, yet were the thing no less pleasant, and as for the Fables and Enchantments in it, all's pardonable. As for the Pastorals of Julietta, I think my self the more obliged to vindicate that book, as being the first was written in France of that kind. The happy condition of a Shepherd to which heaven hath called me, engages me to do it. To answer therefore what Clarimond hath said of the Works of Ollenix of Montsacre, I say that if that Author mentions not the abode of his Shepherds, and o∣ther little particulars; 'tis because they are of no concernment. That he makes the maids court the men, 'tis only to represent that they lived as 'twere in the golden age, during which the laws of honour were not invented. And if

in relating Histories, they quote prophane and sacred Authors, and mention things hapned in our times, the reason is, that all being fiction, and it being granted it is the Author that speaks all through, he hath taken the liberty to accommodate things as well to this age as to the ages past, for the greater de∣light of the readers. He is not therefore to be censured for that; and as for Sidney's Arcadia, since it hath crossed the Sea to come and see us, I am sor∣ry Clarimond receives it with such poor complements. If he hears nothing of the Loves of Strephon and Clavis, he must not quarrel with the Author who hath made his Book one of the most excellent in the world. There are discourses of Love and discourses of State so generous and pleasant, that I should never be weary to read them. I should say much in his commenda∣tion, were I not in haste to speak of Astraea, which Clarimond brings in next, and I am very glad to find that Book generally esteemed, which should ob∣lige him to esteem it also. If instead of the Title of Astraea, it had born that of Galathea or Diana, he would have made the same complaint he does: he would have asked why that Title more then another: But does he not consider that the book begins with the Loves of Astraea and Celadon, and that most of the other Histories are but circumstances, so that the design is very excellently taken. I must also tell Clarimond, that Hylas may be inconstant, and yet not be mad, as he supposes, and that there are in these daies a many more inconstant then he. As for Sylvander, if his Philosophy be Platonick, it is so much the better, since it is that Philosopher hath taught us to love Di∣vinely. If it be alleadged that in the time of Meroveus and Childerick, there were no Shepherds in Forrest could be acquainted with so much lear∣ning and civility as these, 'tis very indiscreetly spoken. Who knows not but that in books, things are raised to the greatest perfection, and that incom∣parable mind that composed the Astraea, hath he not made it appear that he doth not relate the Histories of obscure persons, but describes a sort of per∣sons of quality whose names and condition he disguises? And if the order of his narration had been nicely observed, he would not have been found to fail in the Chronology, that's only a vain illusion to frighten us withall. And that Clarimond should be angry that he hath not perfected his Book; what in∣justice is it! what imprudence! will he not anon quarrel with hea∣ven? We were not worthy to have amonst us any longer that wonderfull man whom death hath taken away from us: but I hope some able pen will oblige us by the accomplishment of what he hath design'd according to his excellent notes and directions. Yet supposing this were not to be hoped, I dare affirm, that though there wants a conclusion to this Work, yet it may be ta∣ken as perfect. He that is ignorant of it, let him read it, he will be suddenly ravished into admiration, he will find what will make him slight all the ob∣jections of our adversary, he will be touched in the most sensible part of his soul, and if he weeps not sometimes for joy, and sometimes for grief, accor∣ding to the occasion, I will confess the envious and detractive have gained the cause. I shall say as much for the History of Argenis, which can be dis∣pleasant to none but men without reason. Clarimond unjustly blames the Author for having said in what condition the affairs of the world were when a Vessel arrived in Sicily; for that does not relate only to the Vessel, and that the question is not about that alone, but all the other things that are in the body of the book which concern the affairs of Sicily, the Gaules, Sardi∣nia, Mauritania, and divers other Countries, so that here's no inequality; nor any mixture of great things and little together. As for the Verses which are disposed here and there, since they are most excellent, most unjust Cla∣rimond, will you find fault with him that gave them us, for to divert our minds after they have been long employed in something more serious? You do well to tell us that the true customes of Sicily are not observed in this Hi∣story, every one confesses it as well as your self, since it was only the Authors

design, to represent divers accidents hapned in France. If you esteem not his intention because he treats of these things with some obscurity, should you not consider that he was obliged to carry himself with that caution, it being a thing not a little dangerous to speak openly of the affairs of great ones? As for the discourses of State which are so seasonably introduced, 'tis a black malice to blame a thing so noble. As for the interview of Poliar∣chus and Archombrotus, tis credible they spoke not but by those furious acti∣ons which Barclay describes, and that Hyanisbe presently separated them. Clarimond keeps also a stirr with the language of this book; he thinks there are some new words; but if he observe it narrowly, there are none which are not derived of other Latine words which are roots that may still send forth somewhat. He is no less injust when he speaks against Lysander, He hath made long narrations of the divers successes of the whole History, to prove they are but rencontres; but what would he have had more miracu∣lous in a History of our time? We have no more to do with those ancient ceremonies, and triumphs with all their sumptuous preparations. We can∣not describe Wars or strange Combats, but we must be suspected of fal∣shood. We are now reduced to speak only of ordinary things. Clarimond mislikes also that Lysander should be assassinated by the friends of Cloridan, who had no hand in the business, as he afterwards declared to the King. Is it impossible they should bear him so much affection as to have engaged in such a design for his sake; and may it not be presumed on the other side that he had intelligence of it, but that he denied it to preserve the favour of his Prince? The Challenge he afterwards sent to Lysander, sufficiently discovers his indignation; and this justifies d' Audiguier, whom, Clarimond taxes not to know whom to make this Gentleman fight with, since Cloridan had a fair oc∣casion to challenge him, having been wounded by him in sight of all the Court. As for the Tale of the spirit, I will not maintain it to be true; it's a query for a Divine, to know whether the souls departed can return hither; it suffices I should tel you that d' Audiguier making a Romance according to our mode could not adorn it better, then by putting in it such things as these, in∣stead of the apparitions of the heathenish Gods, as you have them in anci∣ent Romances; nor indeed is it alwaies necessary to bring in true things into Histories of this kind, but such as the many take to be true: Now there is nothing more certain then that there are many believe that spirits may be spoken to, and have been seen sometimes. Clarimond does also think it un∣likely Lidian should preach, as if he knew the accomplishments of that Gen∣tleman. He would not have Calista bear arms, as being too soft, and know∣ing nothing of the art of War; but doth not d' Audiguier make this thing easily credible, since he saies she would not fight but purposly to die? As for Hippolita and Erifila, they had a long time exercised themselves in feats of arms; nor was it such a miracle to see people armed about Paris, since the Author feigns that Tournaments were very frequent. What he hath in con∣sequence to this, relates much to the warlike humour of Henry the Great; and though there was no such thing, yet it was enough to shew it might be. The admirable adventure of the Nymph is no more to be censured then the rest; for you find in modern Histories, that Magitians of these times have done the like. As for the faults of the language, if a point be forgotten, the Author paies not the Printers score; and if there be in Lysander any Gascon phrases, there needs good eyes to find them. To be short, Clarimond is like that malicious Painter, who represented the feet of the Peacock, and not his train. He mentions only what he likes not, but those things he could not dis∣approve, he meddles not with. Why does he not consider those duels which are so well described? Why does he not take notice of those ingenious an∣swers of Claranges to him that represented to him the grandeurs of the world, to make him quit his Capuchin's Cell? Hath he not observed how Lysander

upon a disdainfull humour of Calista, fell off from his marriage when all their friends had consented to it. In these and other places there are dis∣courses so charming, that though the Reader desired to see the end of the Book, yet would he wish withall it should not end at all. For the Adven∣tures of Polyxena, though there be nothing but relations, yet are they plea∣sant. Since the principal end of Romances is to delight, 'tis requisite there should be of all sorts. And as to Romances in general, Clarimond hath said nothing but what he had said divers times before. He imagins that all Au∣thors steal one from another, nay he hath been so unjust as to say that there are few adventures in the Argenis which are not as common in other Roman∣ces; but he does not consider aright. If there be a war in a book, or the ravishing of a maid, or the death of a King, and that in another there be the same accidents, does that make the books alike? it cannot be, for upon that account, the Roman History were no other thing then the Greek, because in both there are wars, ravishings of maids, and deaths of Princes, the cir∣cumstances make difference enough between things. Wars are begun upon divers occasions; maids may be ravished divers waies, and Princes are not subject to one only kind of death, so that you still find variety in our books; and if you are not satisfied with them, you may in vain wish that God would create another world, or another nature; for as long as we shall be what we are, our Histories can never consist of any thing but suits of Law, Wars, Death and Marriage. If my adversary take it ill that in a Romance a man relate a History in the same words as another hath related it to him, he con∣siders not that it is the principal grace of a book, and that if he can make no∣thing of it, 'tis for want of attention. It's easily seen he knows not what to say against us, and that he can do nothing but follow the imaginations of his own corrupt humours, since that in the conclusion of all, he could reproach us with nothing but the complaints which are lowdly made against us, which is a thing no less natural then that there should be diversity of passions. I therefore conjure you, most just Judge, not to regard his seeble reasons, whereby he endeavours to make it appear to us, that the best Romances in the world are worth nothing. It is most certain, that being made only for pleasure, and not observing the rigorous laws of History, there may be brought whatever the Author pleases, so that they present us with all the ex∣amples of Vertue that can be imagined. 'Tis in these we find pleasure and profit together, and where even women may learn Civility and Courtship. These things being true, and that it is granted there was never any man hi∣therto but Clarimond that doubted of them, I beseech you to preserve Ro∣mances in that reputation which they have gotten in the world, and more e∣specially to confirm unto those I have named, the honour and respect they deserve.

Philiris having spoken in this manner, the minds of the audience, which had been carried away by Clarimond, turn'd on a sudden in his favour that had harangu'd last. 'Tis true, when they remembred all the reasons that Clari∣mond had alleadged, they returned again to his side, so that they were still in uncertainty, and wish'd that Anselme would give sentence one way or other. But as they were in expectation of it, Amaryllis rose up, and desired to be ad∣mitted mediatrix in the cause depending. She was permitted to say what she pleased, and that fair Lady spoke thus.

The Oration of AMARYLLIS, medi∣ating for Romances.

THough I am the most inconsiderable of all those of our sexe that are here present, most wise and righteous Judge, yet will I not be afraid to speak in a business which so much concerns us, since no other will undertake it. I cannot suffer that Clarimond should condemn Romances so far, that if he were believed, they should be all cast into the fire. What would he have them forbidden all manner of persons without exception? If so, we women, who go not to study in Colledge, and have not as men have, Tu∣tors to teach us the many things that happen in the world, are utterly un∣done; 'tis only by the help of Romances that we can arive to any knowledg. If they are taken from us we presently return to intractableness and incivili∣ty; for our minds not being fitted for the books of Philosophy, nor any o∣ther serious studies, there must be some other way for us to learn Vertue and Eloquence▪ Nay, what is more, we shal be extreamly wrong'd, because our lovers and husbands, if they discontinue that delightfull reading, will forget all the insinuations and addresses of Love, so that we shall be no more served with passion, and shall have no further adventures to find employment for the writers of the age. Consider this, most just Judge, and represent to your self, that if you condemn Romances, you will not only injure all women, but al∣so all men, who will not henceforth find them so amiable as before. Let this so powerfull consideration oblige you to doe us justice.

Amaryllis having so said, made a low Courtesie to Anselme, and every one mightily applauded her ingenuity to have done what she did without any bodies notice. Anselme gave a little nod with his head and smiled, as it were to assure her he was satisfied with her conclusion; and presently he pronoun∣ced these words.

The Judgement of ANSELME.

HAving heard the reasons which Clarimond hath alleadged against the most famous works of Poetry and Romances in the world, and having also given ear to what Philiris hath answered to maintain the reputation of those different books, as also the complaint of Amaryllis, who hath media∣ted in behalf of the Ladies, and desired the reading of Romances may not be prohibited; after serious and mature examination, We ordain, That since all these fabulous works are made only for delight, and that the design of the Writers is then most fortunate, when they most recreate the Readers, It shall be lawfull for all to seek their satisfaction and delight in all books wherein they can find it: And since Clarimond hath condemned books which do not deserve it so far, and that Philiris hath given some greater com∣mendations then they deserve, the ablest wits shall hereafter take the matter into consideration, and give their judgements without passion, of the several Works that shall come abroad into the world.

Anselme having thus pronounced sentence, every one was very glad; ye•• there were divers would have gladly known particularly, what credit they should give those books that had been named: but they were not in like∣lyhood to learn any more at that time, for the affections and disaffections were such as admitted not of any resolution; and if one commended a book, ano∣ther discommended it. Anselme represented to them, that though there were nothing in all this contrary to reason, and that Romances being only things dressed to please, as he had said in his sentence, it was not to be admired if some were esteemed, and others not, because the case was not the same as with things that are necessary, which ought to have the general approbation.

The end of the Thirteenth Book.