This is the beginning, modest as yet, of the ridiculous latinism which Villon and Rabelais satirized. This insufferable manner reappears whenever authors exert themselves to be exceptionally brilliant, in dedications, discourses, or literary correspondence. In this vein Chastellain will write "vostre trés humble et obéissante serve et ancelle, la ville de Gand," "la viscérale intime douleur et tribulation,"[1] La Marche "nostre francigène locution et langue vernacule,"[2] Molinet "abreuvé de la doulce et melliflue liqueur procédant de la fontaine caballine," "ce vertueux duc scipionique," "gens de mulièbre courage."[3]
This far-fetched rhetoric testifies both to an ideal of literary conversation and to an ideal of style. Like the troubadours of yore, the rhetoricians and the humanists cultivated literature in the form of an all-round game. Literary correspondence of a rather strange kind springs up. A fervent admirer of Georges Chastellain, Jean Robertet, secretary to three dukes of Bourbon and to three kings of France, tried to enter into correspondence with the poet-historiographer of the Burgundian court, by the good offices of a certain Montferrant who lived at Bruges. The latter, to soften the old author, who was at first rather reserved, had recourse to the time-honoured device of allegory. He evoked the "twelve dames of rhetoric," Science, Eloquence, Gravity of Meaning, Profundity, etc., who appeared to him in a vision and told him to exert himself in behalf of the correspondence desired by Robertet. In the exchange of poetical and rhetorical compliments which followed, Chastellain's verses are sober, when compared with the hyperbolic effusions of Robertet.
- ↑ Your very humble and obedient slave and servant, the city of Ghent; The intestinal inward sorrow and tribulation.
- ↑ Our French-born locution and vernacular tongue.
- ↑ Having drunk from the sweet and mellifluous liquor proceeding from the equine fountain. This virtuous scipionic duke. People of muliebral courage.
of the Giants, and that of Brut, and who have Sown flowers and planted the eglantine, For the ignorant of the language, you will pour yourself forth, Great translator, noble Geoffroy Chaucer!
From you therefore out of the fountain of Helye I ask to have an authentic draught, Of which the conduit is wholly in your power To slake my ethic thirst, I who in Gaul shall be paralysed Till you shall give me to drink.
