so much eager attention, and this court so easily amused, indicate a tendency to encourage literary pursuits. Before this reign, the court of France was rude and ignorant, with the exception, perhaps, of the premature, and therefore abortive, attempts in literature under Charlemagne; but under Philip Augustus there became manifested a decided taste for the belles lettres; literary amusements, and intellectual pleasures, such as then could be procured, formed a part of the recreations of this prince and his court.

Nevertheless, it was not until the reign of St. Louis that French literature presents us with scarcely any thing more than so many old medals, valuable indeed to the historian and the antiquary, but quite devoid of interest, as objects of taste. It was about this period that the old French began to brighten from its rust, and to separate itself from the Provençal idiom, without falling into the Anglo-Norman harshness of the early French poets, such as Robert Wace, and the author of the Romaunt of Brutus. It now acquired its proper French character, without retaining any of the asperity of a northern dialect. The reign of Louis the IXth, therefore, forms a memorable æra in the history of French literature.

We cannot doubt the influence which St. Louis, whose mind was cultivated with so much assiduous attention, and was in itself of so superior a character, must necessarily have exercised on the progress of letters, and the improvement of science. At the same time, that he was the most pious man of his age, we find him successfully resisting the aggressions of the court of Rome. His piety by no means overpowered, but only purified him. He was religious without falling into superstition. All that the imagination can conceive of what is great and good is exemplified in this prince.

The établissements of St. Louis, a code of laws too severely criticised by Montesquieu, present us with an admirable monument of the wisdom of the 13th century. St. Louis also showed himself a great prince in the interior administration of his kingdom. We learn from history that he contrived, in a very few years, to repair all the mischief done to his dominions by the Crusades. His piety, so firm in his disputes with the pope, became actually sublime on the field of battle. Although our sober judgment may, perhaps, blame his too adventurous enterprises to the East, which were by no means necessary for the protection of

Christendom, but which hurried away this great king from doing all that good to his kingdom which, but for them, he certainly would have effected; yet it is impossible not to be struck with the heroism he displayed in his Egyptian expedition. Leibnitz has noticed the political sagacity which induced this prince to fix on Egypt as the centre of the Crusade he led against the East. His second crusading expedition, though perhaps scarcely justified by the interested selfishness of his brother, shows the monarch, however, so courageous, so great, so resigned on the ashes on which he expired, that our enthusiastic admiration of the hero forces us to absolve his imprudence.

It was only with his reign that French civilization commenced, for it was then only that the national language and its productions were first admitted into the common treasury of European literature.

With Ville-Hardouin and the chronicle of St. Denis, commence the first French historical works in the vernacular language of France, works much more conformable to truth and reality than the Latin chronicles, for this reason, that the very expressions themselves, in the French narratives, form a portion of the events they relate. In VilleHardouin, an admirable painter of the manners of his time, the character of the French language is hardly yet completely developed. If we looked for an authority to prove how long the close affinity between the northern and southern dialects of France subsisted, we should cite the pages of Ville-Hardouin, which are full of those sonorous syllables, and those remnants of Latinity, which distinguish the Provençal poetry.

The work of Ville-Hardouin comprises the narrative of the expedition of a certain number of French seigneurs, who devoted themselves to the service of the cross, when accidentally met together at a tournament in Champagne, then crossed the sea in performance of their religious vow, appeared in arms before the gates of Constantinople to replace a fallen emperor on the throne; afterwards armed themselves against this very prince, conquered and took possession of the then capital of the Christian world for themselves, and finally, erected mighty kingdoms and principalities in Greece and Asia. His book is at once an historical chronicle and a chivalric romance.

In this narrative, the tournaments seem the usual rendezvous, the forum of the age. The haughty independence

of the feudal barons, and their proud ambition, display themselves in the very character and first concoction of this chivalrous expedition. Without consulting any sovereign power, without the sanction even of their own prince, on the mere communication of a confidential word from the pope, these adventurous nobles set out on their perilous adventure, they embark,-they traverse the ocean,—and arrive at Constantinople.

Another characteristic trait of these times is the precocious advance in civilization of the Italian towns, which forms a very striking contrast with the rude courage of these feudal seigneurs. The barons of France were in no want of horses, or of lances, or iron armour, but for transport vessels for their expedition they were obliged to make application to a commercial people, to the republic of Venice. Arrived at Constantinople, they accomplish their purpose, and replace on his throne the fallen emperor, whose friends and allies they were. But, after some further reflection, they repent of their generosity, and having more deliberately viewed this great city, so splendid and so populous, and having accurately surveyed her magnificent churches and gorgeous palaces, they come to the resolution that it is better to retain this empire in their own hands, than to give it away to another; and they finally seize upon Constantinople for themselves.

Baldwin was now declared emperor. It was he who gained the principal prize. But, however highly gratified all these knights and barons may have felt at having thus elevated one of their number to the empire, they soon became impatient to obtain at least some petty sovereignty for each of themselves. Geoffrey de Ville-Hardouin, the writer of the chronicle, after having long served in these wars, receives, for his share of the spoil, the town of Messinopolis, in Thessalia. He died there about the year 1213; and his family, connected, by marriage, with the French emperors of Constantinople, continued in the country a long series of years after his decease, and became possessed of the principalities of Corinth and Argos.

Thus, in the beginning of the 13th century, the feudal system of sovereignty was transported from France into the midst of Greece, and many French noblemen and gentlemen obtained grants of lands and castles, by feudal tenure, near to Ville-Hardouin. They were, in fact, a conquering colony, which brought with them all their own national

customs and usages.

The

demoisels and varlets were

young

now sent into Greece for their education, instead of remaining in Picardy and Touraine.

The conquest of the Morea, by Guillaume de Champlite, extended the French influence still further; and the writers of these times inform us, that "le beau parler Francais,le parler delitable," was as common in the Morea as at Paris.

All this forms part of the literary history of these times, where so much activity and enterprise were blended with such extraordinary ignorance and simplicity. It we consult the historical documents of this age, it should seem that all communication between the inhabitants of places at any distance from each other must have been rare and difficult. There were many burgesses to whom, shut up in their narrow streets, the ramparts of their native town seemed the boundaries of the world; they appear, indeed, to have conceived no precise ideas of places and distances. Accordingly, in the beginning of 12th century, we find the monks of Ferrieres, in the diocese of Sens, were ignorant that there existed a town in Flanders of the name of Tournay. A thousand anecdotes of this kind might be cited. A citizen of Paris, when obliged to travel as far as Amiens, made his will before he set out on his journey: so dangerous were the public roads at this time, so daring the robberies of the predatory knights, and so little reliance could be placed on the chivalric oaths of the baronial owners of the castles near the highways, who almost always pillaged the unfortunate travellers!

But to those who attached no value to the quiet enjoyment of the comforts of life, there were no limits to the gratification of their daring ambition. At that time it was not unusual to set out on an expedition for Babylon or Thessalonica without having any precise idea where these places were situated; but twenty or thirty noblemen and gentlemen met together at a tournament, and away they marched, actuated only by the impulse of the enthusiasm of the moment.

The Venetians, who, from their commercial pursuits, had acquired a far superior degree of civilization and general information, always lent their willing aid to all these expeditions: they supplied ships and transport vessels, but took care to make the adventurers pay very dearly for the freight; the latter were therefore obliged to indemnify themselves by military plunder.

Thus it was that these pious pilgrims, who left France with the intention of delivering the holy land from out of the hands of the Infidels, finished by capturing Constantinople for themselves, and pillaging the church of St. Sophia.

After the romances of the Round Table, translated into the French parlure by the Anglo-Normans in the middle of the 12th century, the history of Ville-Hardouin is, perhaps, the most ancient specimen we have of French prose. On this account alone it must ever excite a very considerable degree of interest: in this chronicle we recognise the French language with more facility than in the rhyming lines of the Trouveres. From the vivacity of the style, and the real merit of the narrative, it commands a closer attention, and stimulates a livelier curiosity: he is not merely an historian, but a man who tells you what he has himself actually done or seen, with all that natural truth and naiveté of expression with which he did the thing, or saw it performed. His book is the perpetual deposition of an eye-witness. In our days, whenever modern talents endeavour to imitate this species of style, there is always something artificial apparent on the very face of it, even in the happiest attempt. We discover the clever man of the 19th century striving to disguise himself under the simple dress of a narrator of the extraordinary tales of the 13th. But when it is really the man of the 13th century who speaks to us, the charm of truth consists not only in the whole entirety of the narrative, but in each separate word of the language in which it is conveyed; the author himself, his times, and his work, form but one uniform identical whole, which we have continually before our eyes.

On opening the chronicle of Ville-Hardouin, we first meet with a holy man, whose name was Foulcque de Neuilly, the curate of that place. Cil Foulcque commenca à parler de Dieu par France et par les autres terres. The apostole of Rome, Pope Innocent III., sends a message to this holy man, and charges him to preach the Crusade. The following year, after a splendid tournament in Champagne, a number of seigneurs take up the cross, and resolve upon an expedition to the holy land against the Infidels; but vessels are wanting for their transport. Six of these nobles, therefore, are deputed to Venice to hire ships for the voyage, and Ville-Hardouin himself is one of these envoys. They arrive in Venice, and are favorably received by the doge, Dandolo, a wise and courageous old man, of eighty-nine