Poetry & Patronage:

Neo-Latin Verse & the Making of a Citizen of the

Republic of Letters in the 17th century

 

April G. Shelford, American University

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note to the Reader:  I presented this paper at the March 2003 meeting of the Renaissance Society of America.  It was an early go at presenting my research on how the composition of poetry helped intellectuals create and consolidate their networks in the Republic of Letters and how an aspiring young intellectual like Huet could use poetry to advance both his intellectual career and social prospects.  I treat this topic in much greater detail in my book, Apollo’s Children: Pierre-Daniel Huet and the Transformation of the Republic of Letters in 17th-Century France (under contract, University of Rochester Press).

 

 

 

Please do not cite or quote

without my permission.

 

 

 


 

            Decades later, Johannes Graevius (1632-1703) remembered well his first encounter with the poetry of Pierre-Daniel Huet.  In the early 1650s, he’d gone to the Musaeum in Amsterdam to offer his respects to the Scottish minister and teacher Alexander Morus.  He attended a scholarly gathering where Morus introduced a long poem in the style of Lucretius.[1]  Morus prefaced his recitation with the admiring claim that no one had ever so perfectly imitated the ancient poet’s style.  At the poem’s conclusion, Graevius could not restrain himself from exclaiming how wonderful it was that such poetic riches had been so widely shared.  This excited demonstration of good taste perhaps convinced the other auditors to accept him into their society on the spot.  Graevius also pledged to seek the authority to publish this poetry, so others could share the pleasure he and his companions had enjoyed, though he would not fulfill that pledge for forty years.  In the meantime, he and Huet became long-distance friends, and Huet’s letters often included poems.[2] 

I begin with Graevius’s account because it represents so well many aspects of the intellectual world I’ll be discussing today.  Through Graevius’s eyes, we participate in a learned gathering, taking the part of a young scholar aspiring to membership.  We witness a typical activity – the presentation of a Latin poem.  We experience, if only vicariously, an aesthetic and intellectual pleasure long since disappeared from our scholarly culture.  We are present at the first stirrings toward a lifelong friendship, precisely the kind of relationship that connected seventeenth-century scholars in criss-crossing networks and that provided the emotional infrastructure of the Republic of Letters. 

There’s another less obvious point – that is, long before Pierre-Daniel Huet had published any of the erudite works for which he is best known today, he’d done much to establish a reputation for scholarship largely on the basis of his Latin poetry.  Huet has been a rewarding subject for scholars working in a variety of fields because of his wide interests – religious, literary, and scientific – and his engagement in many lively debates – against Spinoza, against Descartes, against the Moderns.  But his poetry is rarely noticed;[3] nor has it been appreciated how, on those little feet, he travelled much of the distance from Caen in Normandy to the kingdom’s capital, from provincial savant to cosmopolitan intellectual. 

The story is interesting in itself, yet it has wider significance, too.  Neo-Latin poetry had a higher profile even in French public life than we might expect during the second half of the seventeenth century, but it’s not drawn much scholarly attention.[4]   But today I want to describe some aspects of how the composition and exchange of neo-Latin poetry functioned in the Republic of Letters; I also want to show how, through neo-Latin poetry, the interests of érudits like Huet and the French monarchy briefly converged in a royal propaganda program determined to present the regime as “Augustan.”  First, I’ll indicate the general context in which Huet learned to compose Latin poetry; then I’ll trace the circulation pattern of a particular set of his poems in the early 1660s; finally, I’ll explore the politico-cultural significance that Huet’s poetry assumed in the context of royal cultural pretensions.

 

&       &       &

 

Huet’s first exposure to Latin poetry came at the Jesuit collège in Caen.  Writing neo-Latin poetry was a standard feature of secondary education everywhere in Europe, but it was particularly prominent in Jesuit education.  Indeed, one critic remarked with some disgust that the Jesuits seemed more intent on producing poets than anything else.[5]  Alas, the results of the Jesuits’ pedagogic efforts were often worse than mediocre, and grown men frequently recalled the latinizing of their school days with horror.[6]  Still, some students did develop exceptional poetic gifts and a love of the genre.[7]  Indeed, when the satirist Boileau looked around, he found more than enough neo-Latin poets to satirize.  In an unpublished dialogue, he imagined a harried Horace charged with making introductions to Apollo, recoiling before a versifying throng at the gate of Parnassus.[8]

In his autobiography, Huet described how a violent desire to write Latin poetry seized him in his youth,[9] and his native Caen was a very good place to develop his poetic talents.  Caen possessed exceptional cultural vigor, and many of its leading intellectuals were noteworthy neo-Latin poets, a fact Huet once celebrated in an elegy.[10]  One of Huet’s tutors, Antoine Halley (1595-1676), was routinely called upon to write verse for important public events, and he won the laurel several times in the annual Latin poetry competition at nearby Rouen, an event that galvanized civic pride.  Pierre Bayle believed that another of Halley’s pupils, the local notable Moisant de Brieux (1614-1675), was France’s best neo-Latin poet.[11]  De Brieux made Caen’s literary reputation his special concern, opening the doors of his splendid Italianate mansion to the meetings of what became Caen’s literary society, which invited Huet to join in 1652.  De Brieux was connected to a wider world beyond Caen through old friendships with the Duc de Montausier, later royal governor of the province, and Jean Chapelain, Colbert’s “patronage manager.”[12]  Huet’s philosophy teacher at the Caen collège was the neo-Latin poet Pierre Mambrun (1600-1661), whose spiritual and poetic advice Huet sought continuously until his death.  Through these relationships, he developed his skills and began to build intellectual networks that reached beyond Caen. 

Huet wrote Latin poetry from his teens into his 80s, employing many forms and treating subjects ridiculous and sublime, from an enconium on tea-drinking to lyrics lamenting the decline in learning.[13]  They record his interests in natural philosophy – chemistry, anatomy, and cosmology. [14]  His poems reveal his gallantry, even flirtatiousness, characteristics absent from the image of the serious, scholarly bishop of his last decades.[15]   Proud of his gifts, he wanted posterity to remember them  — indeed, his poet’s vanity prompted a vernacular poet to accuse him of an egotism unworthy of a bishop.[16]

When Huet and his learned friends composed Latin poetry, they engaged in far more than school boys’ exercises.  The ability to write it or even to savor its pleasures required the skills and discrimination of the humanist scholar.  Poetry was a learned recreation, a game that only an intellectual elite could play as it self-consciously continued a tradition that had begun with the Ancients and which had been revived in the Renaissance.  The poems that Huet and his friends wrote and exchanged were like so many boundary markers, delineating the tiny realm of the learned from that of the vulgar.  Thus, however playful, even ribald some of Huet’s adult productions were, they always had the implicit, serious purpose of defining both an intellectual style, an ethos, and a community.[17] 

The poems that Huet and others exchanged took on meanings beyond their explicit subjects.  Precisely what a poem meant depended on the relationship — existing or desired — between the person giving and the person receiving.  The exchange itself might initiate and define the terms of a relationship; it might continue and confirm them.  Huet exchanged poems with former teachers; with individuals he taught; with peers and pals; with social superiors; with younger scholars; with scholars senior in achievement and prestige; and with prospective or established patrons.  These categories are a bit too neat, of course.  Patrons were also friends, for example, and teachers became friends.  However friendly a relationship became, though, a certain inequality continued to characterize its tone, whether the source of that inequality was a difference in social or intellectual status.  A poem frequently invited collaborative effort, as giver and recipient traded critical comments about optimal word choice or grammatical fine points.  Poems communicated affection, and a particular verse might respond to the recipient’s current circumstances, such as a death in the family or overwork.[18]  Laudatory poems prefaced an author’s work; a collection of poems signaled his passing and memorialized his life.[19]   

In short, Huet and poets like him employed ancient literary forms and formulas, but they poured into those old and supple skins the new wine of shared delights and worries, both public and private.[20]  Their poetic production circulated in larger or smaller fields of exchange, securing abstract benefits such as a sense of communal solidarity, affective benefits such as friendship, scholarly benefits such as assistance with a project, and indirect material benefits such as  advantageous positioning for patronage.   

 

&       &       &

 

To demonstrate some of these points, let me focus on the exchange of some particular poems during the early 1660s, an important moment in Huet’s career.  The diagram I’ve handed out indicates the circulation of three poems over the space of about three to four years:  An epistle, and two odes written for Louis XIV, one on the Peace of the Pyrenées and his marriage to a Spanish princess, indicated here as Marriage Ode, and a later ode urging Louis XIV to have poets memorialize his deeds, indicated here as the Athena Ode.  It’s difficult to specify chronology in a diagram like this, so I’ve indicated in bold the dates of “first contact,” so to speak.  We must keep in mind, too, that Huet and his friends were exchanging many other works, too.  Finally, these are only the exchanges I’ve able to document so far; I suspect there were more.

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve divided the participants in this network into two main categories:  1)  In the light gray boxes, friends of Huet who were acknowledged neo-Latin poets in their own right; 2) In the darker gray boxes, royal functionaries. 

First, the friends:

Gilles Ménage (1613-1692), seventeen years older than Huet, produced important scholarly works such as an edition of Diogenes Laërtes; he was also very good friends with influential women such as Madame de Lafayette, whom he tutored in Latin with a little help from Huet.  Huet thought very well of the poetry of Charles du Perier (d. 1692), who composed a laudatory poem as a preface to Huet’s short treatise on translation published in 1661.  The Jesuit René Rapin (1621-1687) is far better known today for his anti-Jansenist writings, but he was mostly known in Huet’s lifetime for works of literary criticism and the widely celebrated and translated Hortorum libri quattri.  At this point, though, he had only published some Latin poetry on religious themes and was tutor to the sons of the president of the Parlement of Paris.  These were the people whose “professional opinions” Huet sought, and he and his friends frequently sought the opinions of Moisant de Brieux’s Caen Academy, too.  Huet’s friends weren’t shy about telling him what they thought, and Huet didn’t hesitate to argue back.  He was grateful for their advice, he once wrote to Ménage, but he wasn’t slavish about following it:  “When I compose a work, I make my friends my judges, and I listen to all their pronouncements; then I myself judge of their judgments, seeking to satisfy them, but only after satisfying myself first.”[21]        

Now for the royal functionaries:  Jean Chapelain (1595-1674) and Jean-Baptiste Colbert (1619-1683).  A member of the French Academy, Chapelain had a distinguished career long before Colbert asked him to submit a list of learned men worthy of the king’s largesse in 1662; his own reputation as a poet had been tarnished, though, by the failure of his vernacular epic on Joan of Arc, La Pucelle (1656).  Huet certainly considered Chapelain a friend, but their correspondence is far more formal than the Ménage letters; absent, too, is the banter, the easy give-and-take of letters from Rapin.  In the years that interest us, Colbert was emerging as Louis XIV’s first minister.  As far as I can establish, there was no direct contact between Colbert and Huet in this period. 

Here we see that Huet and Ménage exchanged critical comments on the Marriage Ode and the Epistle in several letters from November 1659 into January 1660; Ménage frequently included the criticisms of du Perier, too.  Ménage highly regarded both poems, and he was particularly moved that Huet had dedicated the Epistle to him.  He also volunteered to oversee publication of the ode, while Huet decided to print the Epistle at Caen.  It was quite typical for poets to publish their works in small quantities as small format, loose sheets.  There was a danger here, though.  Unless anthologized later, as these poems by Huet were, they simply disappeared; much of the work of Du Perier did, in fact, perish in this way.[22]  However modest and transient, these little feuilles volantes performed very important tasks.  They were distributed to one’s friends and patrons, and to prospective friends and patrons. 

By the end of January, Huet had sent Ménage several copies of the printed Epistle; Ménage distributed many of them as directed by Huet, and he also sent a few to scholarly friends in Italy.  But publication of the Marriage Ode, he explained to Huet, had been held up because of the cold.  By mid-February, he reported that 300 copies of the ode had finally been printed; he also told Huet that the Epistle had been received so favorably, he needed another dozen copies.  In turn, Huet requested that 150 copies of the Ode be sent to him in Caen; Ménage was free to distribute most of the remainder as he saw fit, though Huet urged him to send copies of both poems to some Jesuit friends, including Rapin.  Rapin had clearly been in the loop before receiving the printed Ode, though; in a letter to Huet, he reported that he’d received it and that it was better than an earlier version.  He also promised to send the Ode on to Colbert and other notables.[23] 

Once his poems had been thoroughly vetted by his friends, once they’d been printed up, Huet himself sent copies of the Ode and the Epistle to Chapelain in March.  Given the interconnections I’ve sketched out here, it’s not surprising that Chapelain had already seen them.  In a letter thanking Huet, Chapelain reported that he and du Perier had “admired [the Ode] together, one stanza at a time, rejoicing that you continue to do honor to your virtue and to increase the realm of belles lettres with your works.”[24]  If anything, he was even more enthusiastic about the Epistle, lavishing praise on it.   In fact, Huet was a little disgruntled by Chapelain’s preference for the Epistle, writing to Ménage: “I worked very hard on the one, and amused myself with the other, and certainly it’s much more difficult to compose a good ode than a good epistle.”[25] 

Despite a little ruffled poetic vanity, Huet’s poems had succeeded brilliantly in securing the approving attention of people who mattered.  Via slightly different routes Chapelain and Colbert would receive still more poems in the years to come.  Not coincidentally, Huet figured on the list of candidates for royal gratifications that Chapelain sent to Colbert in June 1663:  “There is in Caen a gentleman named Huet, a very good poet,” he wrote. “More learned than anyone his age, we might easily engage [him] to do wonderful things, should he be accepted into that group of the elect, an honor he greatly deserves.”[26] 

 

&       &       &

 

When Huet’s correspondents praised his poetry, they did so in conventional, if significant terms.  For example, Huet’s idyll had gained high praise in Amsterdam for its success in imitating Lucretius.  When Ménage first commented on the Epistle, he remarked that it was extremely “Latin” in expression.[27]  When Rapin first received the Athena Ode, he found it “very beautiful, very learned, very Latin.”[28]  All such comments acknowledged Huet’s high level of technical proficiency – his mastery of the language, the classical tradition, and the genre. 

But another routine compliment that Huet received brings me to my third and final point today, the politico-cultural significance of Huet’s poetry at a particular moment in Louis XIV’s reign.

When Ménage received Huet’s Epistle, he also responded that “it most felicitously imitated Horace.”[29]  Now the choice of Horace as a model would have come quite naturally to Huet.  Horace was one of the models for Latin poesy, and he was very important in the development of French vernacular literature, too.  Horace’s injunction that poetry should both delight and instruct had become cliché in the seventeenth century, but it was still a goal sincerely sought.[30]  Knowledge of his poetry was widespread among the literate, even among women,[31] and scholars like Pierre Gassendi generously sprinkled their correspondence with allusions to his work.[32]  Huet’s correspondence with his old teacher Mambrun shows a particular interest in Horace at one point, and, not surprisingly given Mambrun’s vocation, a particular concern with “Christianizing” the pagan aspects of his work.[33]  

But Horace had a wider cultural significance as a model of the honnête homme.  The terms Huet’s contemporaries used to describe the Roman poet savor of anachronism, but also speak to their social and cultural aspirations.  Horace was one of the most honnête men of Antiquity; he was si galant and urbane; he possessed a charmante politesse and an esprit poli; his manner of communicating moral lessons was completely appropriate to the commerce du monde.   He was the “only poet to teach the duties of civic life … the only one who could fashion a man both honnête and galant.”  Horace’s connection with the emperor Augustus was similarly exemplary.  He represented the “court of the second Caesar”; he was a “pillar” of that court.[34]  In short, the name Horace carried tremendous cultural weight. 

But Huet’s choice of the Horatian ode as a model for his praise of Louis XIV was not just a literary choice.  Horace’s relationship to Augustus argued the importance of letters to any ruler who desired to be known as “Augustan.”   Thus Huet’s odes argued that, just as Horace had been honored at the court of Augustus, so should poets be honored at that of Louis XIV.  Certainly Huet was soliciting patronage.  But he proposed to serve the state, not be servile, because the poet brought so much to the table: the priceless gift of representation, not just in the present but to future generations.  In his “Epistle to Augustus,” Horace had rather gently suggested the superiority of poetry to communicate true greatness over physical likeness.  Huet asserted the same, if anything more boldly, in his second ode to the king.  I call it “Athena,” because the goddess herself descends from her father’s aery realm to address Louis as she did Achilles.  She demands to know why he trusts monuments and sculpted portraits to transmit his name and glorious deeds to posterity.  Time consumes such contrivances rapidly, she warns, just as it destroys all things made by mortal men.  Only Calliope, muse of epic poetry, can constrain time.  Only she dares unravel what a dark fate has woven.  It’s a pretty phrase, and perhaps a bit cheeky.  But it echoed conventional wisdom.   For example, when Chapelain commented on Colbert’s plans for memorializing the king’s deeds in a letter of 1662, he wrote: “of all the durable symbols of monarchy, poetry is without doubt the best defended against the damage of time – provided only that a great writer is involved in the production of the verses.”[35] 

Huet’s two odes were certainly well timed.  The personal reign had only just begun; its tenor was ambitious and optimistic.  A young king looking to make his mark (and his advisors) would naturally be casting about for worthy ways to distinguish himself.  What better way, Huet asked, than poetry?  But the question perhaps inevitably arises:  What did the new Augustus himself make of all this?  Was he even capable of appreciating Huet’s efforts?

The signs were not good.  In the letter acknowledging receipt of the Ode and Epistle in March 1660, Chapelain regretted that “our court is not so refined in matters of Latinity as that of Augustus.  [If it were,] you would have the place of Horace, not only for your lyric genius, but even more for the epistolary.”[36]  And the signs got worse.  In a letter dated December 12th, 1662, Ménage announced that the king was learning Latin.  Apparently du Perier had undertaken the task of royal tutor; a few weeks later, Du Perier reported that the king had written a flawless composition and would perhaps be able to understand his (du Perier’s) odes soon.[37] 

In the end, it probably wouldn’t have mattered much if Louis XIV could read his poems or not as long as support for this type of civic expression remained strong among those who advised the King.  But kings and their advisors cannot resist the tug of the cultural currents swirling around them.  The Battle of the Ancients and the Moderns was still far in the future, but Huet and his friends already anticipated a cultural showdown.  Thus Huet responded rather darkly to Ménage’s good news of the king’s progress in Latin.  “Should the king acquire some taste for letters,” he wrote,  “we’d have reason to hope that the barbarism presently threatening us might retreat for some years.”  But he doubted whether such a hope had any reasonable foundation.[38]  Soon enough, Latin poets complained of Colbert’s betrayal, and, in 1676, the matter came to a head in the “Battle of Inscriptions.” At issue was the language of the inscriptions to be carved on a new triumphal arch.  Some of France’s best neo-Latin poets argued that they should be in Latin; their opponents promoted French inscriptions and were backed by Colbert.[39]   While the arch that sparked this public debate was never built, while Latin inscriptions continued to be composed, the Latinists had, in the words of one scholar, lost their monopoly.  Louis ordered that the Latin inscriptions begun in the gallery at Versailles be removed, and French inscriptions put in their place in 1685. [40]  In his public representations, Louis XIV would continue to don the armor of a Roman emperor, but the new Augustus would increasingly speak French. 

So Huet never played Horace to Louis’s Augustus.  But he had not wasted his time.  He received a royal gratification, and he would continue receiving gratifications for many years to come.  When he ran into trouble getting funds for the printing of his first major scholarly work, an edition of Origen’s biblical commentaries, his connection with Colbert through Rapin saved the day.  And when the time came to hire learned and upstanding men to tutor the Dauphin, Huet received the call that finally brought him to Paris in 1670.  He tutored the Dauphin in Latin.  He also continued to write and exchange Latin poetry with his friends. 

Rebuffed in public, the Latin muses increasingly retreated to the scholar’s cabinet and the lower reaches of Parnassus, the realm of the pedagogues.[41]  Some Jesuits did attempt a lively rearguard action well into the next century, though, brandishing Huet’s poetry.  The Memoires de Trevoux of January 1739 announced the publication of an anthology of Greek and Latin poetry by Huet and poets who followed him.  Echoing cultural battles of years before, the reviewer announced that this was proof positive that the Latin and Greek muses had not fled France.  If such a state did come to pass, he warned, “[we would be] plunge[d] yet again into a barbarous state, and all the style Géometrique employed in all manner of works could not protect us.”[42]   

 

                 


BIBLIOGRAPHY

Primary:

 

Buchler, M.J.  Sacrarum profanarumque phrasium poeticarum thesaurus and Reformata poeseos Institutio.  London, 1624.

 

Chapelain, Jean. Lettres inédites de Jean Chapelain à P.-D. Huet.  Paris, 1894.

 

Despautère, J.  Artis versificatoriae Compendium.  Edinburgh, 1631.

 

Huet, Pierre-Daniel.  Commentarius de rebus ad eum pertinentibus.  Venice, 1761.

 

_____. Poemata, latina et graeca.  Utrecht, 1700.

 

Carmina (Cerceau).” Journal des Scavans (22 February 1706): 186.

 

Carmina (Huet).”  Journal des Scavans (8 July 1709): 46-56.

 

Poetarum ex Academia Gallica … Carmina.  The Hague, 1640.

 

Lettres inédites de Jean Chapelain à P.-D. Huet.  Edited by Léon Pelissier.  Paris, 1894.

 

Ménage, Gilles.  Lettres inédites à Pierre-Daniel Huet (1659-1692).  Naples: Liguori, 1993.

 

Moisant de Brieux.  Oeuvres choisies.  Caen, 1875.

 

La Motte, Houdar de.  Odes.  Paris, 1714.

 

“Ode ad Christum Victorem.” Memoires de Trevoux (January 1705): 447.

 

Musae reduces: anthologie de la poésie latine dans l’Europe de la Renaissance.  Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975.

 

Poetarum ex Academia Gallica … Carmina.”  Memoires de Trevoux (January 1739): 129134..

 

Rapin, René.  Les Réflexions sur la poétique de ce temps et sur les ourvrages des poètes anciens et modernes.  Geneva: Droz, 1970.

 

Santeul, Jean.  Opera poetica.  Paris, 1694.

 

Secondary:

 

Beugnot, Bernard.  “Débats autour du latin dans la France classique.”  Actus Conventus Neo-Latini Amstelodamensis.  Munich: Fink, 1979.

 

_____. “La Lyre et le précepte: notes sur la réception de l’Art poétique d’Horace.” Rivista de Letterature moderne e comparate 52:3 (July-Sept. 1999): 197-212.

 

Binns, J.W.  The Latin Poetry of English Poets.  London and Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974.

 

Bowditch, Phebe Lowell.  Horace and the Gift Economy of Patronage.  Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001.

 

Castor, Grahame, and Cave, Terence, editors.  Neo-Latin and the Vernacular in Renaissance France.  Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984.

 

Dainville, François.  La Naissance de l'humanisme, I: Les jésuites et l'éducation de la société française.  Paris: Beauchesne, 1940.

 

_____.  L'Education des jésuites (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles).  Paris: Les Editions de Minuit, 1978. 

 

Haan, Estelle.  “Milton’s Latin Poetry and Vida.”  Humanistica lovaniensia 44 (1995): 282-304. 

 

Hankins, James.  “The Latin Poetry of Leonardo Bruni.”  Humanistica lovaniensia 39 (1990): 1-39.

 

Heeksakkers, C.L.  “Two Leiden Neo-Latin Menippean Satires: Justus Lipsius’ Somnium (1581) and Petrus Cunaeus’ Sardi Venales (1612).”  Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Bononiensis.  (Binghamptom: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1985)

 

Jones, Howard.  “An Eighteenth-Century Refutation of Epicurean Physics: The Anti-Lucretius of Melchior de Polignac (1747).”  Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Torontonensis.  (Binghampton: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1991.

 

Kerson, Arnold L.  “Rafael Landívar’s Rusticatio Mexicana and the Enlightenment in America.”  Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Sanctandreani.  (Binghampton: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1986.

 

Kiernan, V.G.  Horace: Poetics and Politics.  New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999.

 

Jean Marmier.  Horace en France, au dix-septième siècle.  Paris: P.U.F., 1962.

 

Montalant-Bougleux, Louis-Auguste.  J.B. Santeul; ou la poésie latine sous Louis XIV.  Paris, 1855.

 

Moss, Ann.  “The Counter-Reformation Latin Hymn.”   Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Sanctandreani.  (Binghampton: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1986.

 

Nellen, Henk, and Rabbie, Edwin.  “Grotius’s Fame as a Poet.”  Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Torontonensis.  (Binghampton: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1991.

 

Pognon, Edmond.  “Littérature latine de la Renaissance.  L’Antique retrouvée.”  Encyclopédie de la Pléiade.  Paris: Gallimard, 1956.

 

Rochemonteix, P. Camille de.  Un Collège de Jésuites aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles.  Le Mans, 1889.

 

Sabrio, David H.  “George Buchanan’s Secular Latin Poetry and New Historicism.”  The Language and Literature of Early Scotland XXVI (1991): 319-327. 

 

Spitzer, Leo.  “The Problem of Latin Renaissance Poetry.”  Studies in the Renaissance 2 (1955): 118-138.

 

Taussig, Sylvie.  “Gassendi lecteur d’Horace, dans les Lettres latines.”  Revue des études latines 75 (1997): 241-259.

                

Tieghem, P. van.  “La Littérature latine de la Renaissance.”  Bibliothèque d’humanisme et Renaissance, IV: 177-418.  Paris: Droz, 1944.

 

Tolmer, Léon.  Pierre-Daniel Huet.  Bayeux: Colas, 1949.

 

Ijsewijn, Jozef.  Companion to Neo-Latin Studies.  Louvain: Louvain University Press, 1990.

 

Vissac, L’Abbé.  La Poésie latine en France au siècle du Louis XIV.  Paris: 1862.

 

Waquet, Françoise.  Le Latin, ou l’empire d’un signe.  Paris: Albin Michel, 1998.

 

Zeeberg, Peter.  “Science versus Secular Life: A Central Theme in the Latin Poems of Tycho Brahe.”  Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Torontonensis.  Binghampton: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1991.

 

 

 

NOTES



[1] Pierre-Daniel Huet, Epiphora, Idyllium Stylo Lucretiano Conscriptum.  Ad Praestantissimum Virum Alexandrum Morem.

 

[2] Graevius’s preface to the 1694 anthology of Huet’s Carmina.

 

[3] With the exception of Huet’s biographer Léon Tolmer, who utilizes a small number of poems in his account of Huet’s life.

  

[4]For some bibliography, see Ijsewijn, 143-144, for bibliography; also see Bardon’s study of Latin culture as revealed in Le Mercure gallant.  

 

[5]Not surprisingly, Antoine Arnauld.  Pognon, 291. On the place of Latin versification in Jesuit education, also see Waquet, 158; Rochemonteix, III, Chapter 1.

 

[6]Waquet, 168.

 

[7]Pognon, 293.

 

[8]Vissac, 2.

 

[9] Commentarius, 268-269.

 

[10] Elegia de poetis cadomensibus.

 

[11]Moisant de Brieux, Oeuvres choisies, LXVIII.

 

[12] Robin Briggs’s phrase in “The Academie Royale des Sciences and the Pursuit of Utility”, Past & Present 131 (1991).

 

[13] Respectively, Ad Leydam Urbem and Thea.

 

[14] Respectively, Epiphora, Sal, Magnes.

 

[15] For example, two short poems dedicated to Marie du Pré, whose uncle asked him to write her in Latin in order to develop her skills, and Mimus, sive Speculum.  Ecloga ad Maria Elisabetham Roccachoartiam Castrisiam, a young noblewoman whose skills in reading both Latin and Greek he discovered accidentally when visiting the waters of Bourbon. 

 

[16] Houdar de La Motte, “L’amour propre,” Odes (Paris, 1714), 129-135.

 

[17] Huet apparently wrote a rather racy elegy during the 1660s which he shared with Chapelain, at least.  Chapelain’s reaction to it reinforces my point regarding how Latin poetry separated the learned and the vulgar, here articulated along gender lines:  “I found nothing to reprove here with respect to the freedom of love à la manière ancienne, because [the poem] is written in an ancient language, which shelters it from any accusation [of prurience], and because it is written for learned men, not for ignorant women.”  Chapelain, 28 October 1661,160. 

 

[18] The French Neo-Latin poet Fraguier, for example, complained that Huet’s duties as bishop would absorb so much of his time that his service to the Muses would suffer.  “Ad Pet. Dan. Huetium, Abrincensium Episcopum designatum,” Poetarum ex academica, 151-153.  A collection of poetry in Latin and French was assembled to comfort Moisant de Brieux on the death of his son in 1671.  Moisant de Brieux, VLI. 

 

[19] Huet wrote poems to mourn the death of the érudit Claude Saumaise, whose company he had enjoyed during his peregrinatio academica in the Netherlands in the early 1650s, and he initiated a collection of poems to mourn the death of Pierre Mambrun in 1661.  

 

[20] Although we should take their claim to be imitating the Ancients with some qualification.  As Spitzer writes, “the fact is that Renaissance Latin literature represents a step beyond classical Latin, precisely because Latin was a second language for these bilingual poets; new problems, unknown to the Ancients, had to arise in the case of a language that was mainly a literary language, and the pagan forms imitated by Christian humanists were bound to acquire new meanings in the Christian environment, just as the pagan motifs of Renaissance paintings take on a new significance: an ancient god or goddess painted by Titian or Raphael appears in a landscape that was unknown to the ancients.”  Spitzer, 118.

  

[21] 27 February 1662, Ménage, Lettres inédites, 337.

 

[22] Vissac, 154.

 

[23] Rapin to Huet, undated, Biblioteca Laurenziana, Ashburnham Collection, #1995.

 

[24] 2 March 1662, Chapelain, 77-79.

 

[25] Probably 4 March 1660, Ménage, 294.

 

[26] Chapelain, 9 June 1663, 306-309.

 

[27] 29 November 1659, Ménage, 86.

 

[28] Rapin to Huet, undated, Biblioteca Laurenziana, Ashburnham Collection, #1997.

 

[29] 29 November 1659, Ménage, 86.

 

[30]Marmier, 83.

 

[31]Marmier, 54.

 

[32]See Taussig.

 

[33] Mambrun to Huet, Biblioteca Laurenziana, Ashburnham Collection, #1161.

 

[34] Marmier, 86.

 

[35] 18 November 1662, Chapelain.

 

[36] Chapelain, 78.

 

[37]12 December 1662 & 6 January 1663, Ménage,168-169 & 171-172.

 

[38]8 January 1663, Ménage, 366.

 

[39] Vissac, 233-247.

 

[40] Vissac, 233-247.

 

[41]  In a dissertation published in 1654, an abbé distinguished between the higher and lower reaches of Parnassus, reserving the latter for pedagogues.  The higher belonged to those who could compose poetry without having to teach it.  Vissac, 28. 

 

[42]  Mémoires de Trevoux (January 1739), 129.