Amours retranchées 5

De toy, Paschal, il me plaist que j’escrive

Qui de bien loin le peuple abandonnant,

Vas des Romains les tresors moissonnant,

Le long des bors où la Garonne arrive.

 

Haut d’une langue éternellement vive,

Son cher Paschal Tholose aille sonnant,

Paschal, Paschal, Garonne resonnant,

Rien que Paschal ne responde sa rive.

 

Si ton Durban, l’honneur de nostre temps,

Lit quelquefois ces vers par passe-temps,

Di-luy, Paschal (ainsi l’aspre secousse

 

Qui m’a fait cheoir, ne te puisse émouvoir)

Ce pauvre Amant estoit digne d’avoir

Une Maistresse, ou moins belle, ou plus douce.

 

 

 

 

                                                                            Of you, Paschal, it pleases me to write

                                                                            You who far off, abandoning the common throng,

                                                                            Go harvesting the treasures of the Romans

                                                                            Along the banks where the Garonne runs.

 

                                                                            Loudly in a language eternally alive

                                                                            Toulouse goes on praising its dear Paschal;

                                                                            The Garonne replying ‘Paschal, Paschal’,

                                                                            Its banks echoing nothing but Paschal.

 

                                                                            If your Durban, the pride of our times,

                                                                            Sometimes reads these verses at leisure,

                                                                            Tell him, Paschal (for the harsh shock

 

                                                                            Which has made me fall cannot thus move you)

                                                                            That this poor lover was worthy of having

                                                                            A mistress either less beautiful or more gentle.

 

 

 

 

 

We’ve met Paschal before and seen how Ronsard became less enchanted with him too. It’s not surprising that this sonnet ended up being withdrawn when that happened, naming him 6 times as it does! (And that’s even more obvious if you typeset the name in capitals each time, as is done by Marty-Laveaux, following some of the early sixteenth-century editions… But the story of how Paschal rose and fell is interesting, not principally to see Ronsard being duped by someone who didn’t have the same talent as he did, but rather for showing how it could have happened. It’s all about what was important at the time, and how values have changed; what is valued now, is not what was valued then.

 

But first the contemporary notes  on the sonnet written by Muret:

 

Line 1: ‘He addresses this sonnet to Pierre Paschal, a gentleman native to Languedoc, a man who, beyond an understanding of the sciences worthy of a fine mind (in which he has few equals) is endowed with such eloquence in Latin that even the Venetian Senate was astonished several times by it.’

 

Line 3: commenting on an earlier version of this line, which begins “Vas du Arpin…” (‘Go harvesting the treasures of the man from Arpinum’ – Cicero’s birthplace), Muret paraphrases “Go carefully gleaning the riches of Ciceronian eloquence”, and adds ‘he says that, because Paschal is one of those best-versed in Cicero who are alive today’

 

Line 4: ‘River which passes through Toulouse, where Paschal has his residence’

 

Line 9: ‘Michel-Pierre de Mauléon, protonotary of Durban, councillor in the Toulouse parliament, a very excellent fellow. Between him and Paschal is so great a friendship that effaces all those which are recommended by ancient authors.’  

 

 

So, now to the story of Paschal’s rise and fall.

 

It’s easy to forget – in an age when the ‘vulgar tongue’ has triumphed – that the Renaissance was not the re-birth of art, or of vernacular poetry, but pre-eminently was the re-birth of classical Latin & Greek literary style. All (or almost all) languages have a day-to-day form, and a higher style used in poetry and literature; and sometimes the gap between them is bigger, sometimes smaller. During the centuries since the fall of Rome, when Latin had remained the language of the church and of communication, the gap had become quite small – as it is today in English. But in the 1300s and 1400s, Italians rediscovered what the Golden Latin (& Silver Latin) poets and writers had done, and realised that the literary style could be much more refined than it was. And it was Latin, in particular, where their efforts were focused. Languages like French and Italian were, literally, secondary – and scholars even doubted whether anything good could be written in them. Ronsard and his peers were taking a risk by ‘renewing’ the French language as a language capable of birthing poetry of a quality comparable with the Greek and Roman ‘classics’.

 

Petrarch in Italy, and now Ronsard in France, were determined to show that the local language could be used as stylishly as Latin; but they lived within a humanist world which still valued Latin higher. When you see one or more dedicatory poems in Latin at the beginning of one of Ronsard’s collections, it’s not an affectation: it is a statement that what follows is literature worthy of the name, and the Latin is there to prove it.

 

It’s also important to realise that good style was valued enormously highly. In Florence, in the 1400s, reputations were made and lost on the turn of a (Latin) phrase. So Paschal’s Italian training in good classical Roman style was a strong weapon in his armoury. It’s worth noting that Paschal had published only the short book in 1548 (beautifully presented, of course – see it online here) containing his prosecution speech at a murder trial in Venice, and some Latin letters describing his Italian impressions, which would be his calling-card on being introduced to the poets; indeed, he would publish little else. That his reputation, on this basis, should equal Ronsard’s, looks crazy to us at this distance, but gives some idea of the importance the Renaissance attached to style rather than substance: what mattered was writing well, not necessarily the originality or substantive content of what you wrote. And Paschal did, indeed, write Latin well.

 

Paschal’s career was traced at length by Pierre de Nolhac a century back – well worth a read. His rise really begins when he came back from Italy in 1553, fluent in the ‘Ciceronian’ style of oratorical Latin which was favoured by the Italian stylists, and was introduced to some of the Pleiade poets: Ronsard, along with Olivier de Magny, was his first and strongest supporter. For what it’s worth, Baif’s first published piece of poetry was a dedicatory sonnet in another little booklet publishing a French translation of that Venetian speech of Paschal’s.

 

The promise of writing eulogies of France’s greatest poets in Latin had a strong appeal to all of them, even though they were wedded to the renewal of the French language, for they ‘knew’ instinctively that histories and eulogies written in Latin were longer-lasting and more significant than the equivalent in French. Publication in Latin would ensure that their reputation was Europe-wide, for a Latin eulogy would reach educated people across the whole of Europe. And Henri II ‘knew’ that it was more important that the history of his reign was undertaken by someone who could write high-quality Latin, than by someone who could handle sources etc with a historian’s insight.

 

Which is why Paschal rose so quickly to the position of Historiographer of France, in 1554. He was – or presented himself as – the pre-eminent Italian-trained Ciceronian writer in France. Not until Muret went to Rome would he have a direct rival. But his fine Latin did not make him a good historian. Although Ronsard and others ridiculed him for not having managed to write any of his history, three volumes of drafts survive in manuscript, and show that he was good at writing speeches etc, but not at military history or the undercurrents of politics. So his history skimped on what we think of as ‘history’, and majored on long speeches and extended praises of the main characters. And when Henri II died in 1559, he fell from favour and was replaced, returned to the south, and died soon afterwards (in 1565, aged only 45) leaving his history unfinished.

 

By 1554, then, Paschal was an important personage, and with the prospect of being immortalised in Latin, it was important that the poets continued to praise him. As late as 1558 Bellay placed him alongside Ronsard, he the master of prose, Ronsard the master of poetry; and in the mid-1550s Ronsard amended one of his 1550 odes so that it now said ‘Paschal will at some point make me immortal by his eloquence … It’s you who will make me eternal!’. To us, both the statement, and the breath-taking sycophantism of it, look unbelievable. And indeed back in 1555 Etienne Pasquier had already warned Ronsard that he was over-estimating and over-praising Paschal. (Further south, in Paschal’s home, people were less convinced by him: as early as 1551 a humanist poet and professor of law, Etienne Forcadel, had written: ‘Hear what his gilded eloquence actually says: that speech, however sweet, is empty’. So Ronsard’s line 5, about Toulouse praising Paschal, is not entirely true!)

 

(Incidentally, Paschal’s dear friend Durban was, as Muret’s note explains, a member of the Mauléon family. Paschal’s printed speech from Venice was as prosecutor in a trial for the murder of a Mauléon; though it’s not clear if the family chose him for his known eloquence in Ciceronian-style prosecutions, or because of some prior connection in Toulouse. Ronsard, in his 1559 invective, later reproached Durban for having ‘imposed’ the mediocre Paschal on him and for over-praising him among the poets. In fact, of course, Ronsard did quite a lot of that himself!)

 

Ronsard was not alone in preparing biographical material in French which Paschal could convert into a more significant publication, in Latin. But Paschal failed to deliver on his ‘hall of fame’ – though there is evidence that, again, he made some progress towards it: interestingly, there is a piece on Mellin de Saint-Gelais which survives – so perhaps his popularity with Ronsard’s set was affected by his taking a different view of just who was important to mention in this ‘hall of fame’!

 

But then the Pleiade poets began to see through the ‘emperor’s clothes’ and realise that his talents were, in fact, limited. It is interesting that this happened in 1559, when the King his supporter died and he did not gain the new King’s support. Could Ronsard and his friends have been playing safe up to that point? But when the gloves came off they really did get vituperative. Adrien Tournebu published a vicious Latin satire, and Baif published a French translation; Ronsard wrote, but only circulated in manuscript, a vicious anti-eulogy of him – in Latin. In Latin, because that was Paschal’s home turf, and because it carried more weight. Incidentally, although Ronsard’s Latin is fine and even stylish, it’s not in the same league as Paschal’s. Each had their specialism, and each was excellent within it. Is it coincidental that Ronsard also prepared a first collected edition of his works very shortly afterwards in 1560, and removed Paschal’s name from all the poems and dedications he had given him? (He wanted to re-dedicate his Hymne de la Mort to Bellay – but Bellay refused ‘someone else’s leftovers’.)

 

It was about the same time that Ronsard wrote, in his Elegie to Jérôme L’Huillier, of the way others, more adept than him but less deserving, won honours from kings while he struggled to make ends meet.

 

As usual though, Ronsard’s anger was short-lived. His poem beginning “Je meurs Paschal” dates from about 1564, when Paschal had retired to the south; and Ronsard also mentioned him favourably in some of his anti-Calvinist poetry. By this time, though, Paschal was dead, so Ronsard’s cooling anger may have had as much to do with that early death and the sadness of potential unfulfilled, as with any genuine reconciliation.

 

A minor detail of Ronsard history to close: in 1554 it was Paschal who, in Toulouse, persuaded the jury of the ‘Jeux Floraux’ to award the prize to Ronsard, and it was Paschal who accepted the award on his behalf. The silver flower never reached Ronsard, but the next year the committee had a silver statuette of Minerva made instead and sent that. Ronsard presented it to the King!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elegy XVI (Ronsard’s autobiography) – epic 200th post :-)

This is my 200th post (though not yet the 200th poem), so I wanted to do something special. In the end it has snowballed a bit and this post is going to be monstrously long…!!  Hope you enjoy it anyway.

In his Elegies, Ronsard included a poem – addressed to his old friend Remy Belleau – which provides his family background and details of his early life – sometimes uncorroborated details we only learn here but often events we can triangulate against other records. So, here is his Elegy XVI (or in Blanchemain’s numbering Elegy XX), with translations, annotations and added biographical detail…   🙂

It is worth noting before we start, though, that this poem was published in the Bocage in 1554 addressed to his friend Pierre de Pascal [Paschal] “du bas païs de Languedoc” (‘from the low country of Languedoc’), not to Remy Belleau!  In that version Durbam/Durban [Michel-Pierre de Mauléon, protonotary of Durban], not Baïf, is the 3rd in their group in the final line… For more on Paschal, and Ronsard’s subsequent ‘un-friending’, see here.

1 – the poem

As usual, in Marty-Laveaux’s edition (Ronsard’s latest thoughts) first:

Je veux, mon cher Belleau, que tu n’ignores point D’où, ne qui est celuy, que les Muses ont joint D’un nœud si ferme à toy, afin que des années, A nos neveux futurs, les courses retournées Ne celent que Belleau et Ronsard n’estoient qu’un, Et que tous deux avoient un mesme cœur commun.   Or quant à mon ancestre, il a tiré sa race D’où le glacé Danube est voisin de la Thrace : Plus bas que la Hongrie, en une froide part, Est un Seigneur nommé le Marquis de Ronsart, Riche d’or et de gens, de villes et de terre. Un de ses fils puisnez ardant de voir la guerre, Un camp d’autres puisnez assembla hazardeux, Et quittant son pays, faict Capitaine d’eux Traversa la Hongroie et la basse Allemaigne. Traversa la Bourgongne et la grasse Champaigne, Et hardy vint servir Philippes de Valois, Qui pour lors avoit guerre encontre les Anglois.   Il s’employa si bien au service de France, Que le Roy luy donna des biens à suffisance Sur les rives du Loir : puis du tout oubliant Freres, pere et pays, François se mariant Engendra les ayeux dont est sorty le pere Par qui premier je vy ceste belle lumiere.   Mon pere fut tousjours en son vivant icy Maistre-d’hostel du Roy, et le suivit aussi Tant qu’il fut prisonnier pour son pere en Espaigne : Faut-il pas qu’un servant son Seigneur accompaigne Fidele à sa fortune, et qu’en adversité Luy soit autant loyal qu’en la felicité ?   Du costé maternel j’ay tiré mon lignage De ceux de la Trimouille, et de ceux du Bouchage, Et de ceux des Roüaux, et de ceux des Chaudriers Qui furent en leurs temps si vertueux guerriers, Que leur noble vertu que Mars rend eternelle Reprint sur les Anglois les murs de la Rochelle, Où l’un fut si vaillant qu’encores aujourd’huy Une rue à son los porte le nom de luy.   Mais s’il te plaist avoir autant de cognoissance (Comme de mes ayeux) du jour de ma naissance, Mon Belleau, sans mentir je diray verité Et de l’an et du jour de ma nativité.   L’an que le Roy François fut pris devant Pavie, Le jour d’un Samedy, Dieu me presta la vie L’onzieme de Septembre, et presque je me vy Tout aussi tost que né, de la Parque ravy.   Je ne fus le premier des enfants de mon pere, Cinq davant ma naissance en enfanta ma mere : Deux sont morts au berceau, aux trois vivans en rien Semblable je ne suis ny de mœurs ny de bien.   Si tost que j’eu neuf ans, au college on me meine : Je mis tant seulement un demy an de peine D’apprendre les leçons du regent de Vailly, Puis sans rien profiter du college sailly. Je vins en Avignon, où la puissante armée Du Roy François estoit fierement animée Contre Charles d’Autriche, et là je fus donné Page au Duc d’Orleans : apres je fus mené Suivant le Roi d’Escosse en l’Escossoise terre, Où trente mois je fus, et six en Angleterre.   A mon retour ce Duc pour page me reprint : Long temps à l’Escurie en repos ne me tint Qu’il me renvoyast en Flandres et Zelande, Et depuis en Escosse, où la tempeste grande Avecques Lassigni, cuida faire toucher Poussée aux bords Anglois la nef contre un rocher.   Plus de trois jours entiers dura ceste tempeste, D’eau, de gresle et d’esclairs nous menassant la teste : A la fin arrivez sans nul danger au port, La nef en cent morceaux se rompt contre le bord, Nous laissant sur la rade, et point n’y eut de perte Sinon elle qui fut des flots salez couverte, Et le bagage espars que le vent secoüoit, Et qui servoit flottant aux ondes de jouet.   D’Escosse retourné, je fus mis hors de page, Et à peine seize ans avoient borné mon âge, Que l’an cinq cens quarante avec Baïf je vins En la haute Allemaigne, où la langue j’apprins.   Mais làs ! à mon retour une aspre maladie Par ne sçay quel destin me vint boucher l’ouie, Et dure m’accabla d’assommement si lourd, Qu’encores aujourd’huy j’en reste demy-sourd. L’an d’apres en Avril, Amour me fist surprendre, Suivant la Cour à Blois, des beaux yeux de Cassandre Soit le nom faux ou vray, jamais le temps veinqueur N’effacera ce nom du marbre de mon cœur.   Convoiteux de sçavoir, disciple je vins estre De d’Aurat à Paris, qui cinq ans fut mon maistre En Grec et en Latin : chez luy premierement Nostre ferme amitié print son commencement, Laquelle dans mon ame à tout jamais, et celle De nostre amy Baïf sera perpetuelle.

I’d like, my dear Belleau, for you not to be in any way uninformed About where he’s from, and who he is, this man whom the Muses have bound With so firm a knot to you, such that the years’ Course turning will not hide from our future descendants That Belleau and Ronsard were but one person, The two joined by one shared heart.       So, as for my first ancestor, he came from roots Where the freezing Danube runs beside Thrace; Lower down than Hungary, in a cold region, There was a Lord named Marquis of Ronsart, Rich in gold and retainers, in towns and lands. One of his younger sons, eager to see war, Assembled a band of other daring younger sons And, leaving his country, as their Captain Crossed Hungary and lower Germany, Crossed Burgundy and rich Champagne, And boldly came to serve Philip of Valois Who for some time had been at war with the English.       He acted so well in the service of France That the King gave him plentiful holdings On the banks of the Loir; then forgetting all about Brothers, father and homeland, as a Frenchman he married And bore the ancestors from whom descended the father Through whom I first saw this fair light.   My father was always while living here In charge of the King’s household, and he followed him Even when he was a prisoner in Spain for his father; Shouldn’t a servant accompany his Lord, Loyal to his fate, and in bad times Be as loyal to him as in good?       On my mother’s side, I take my lineage From the people of Trimouille, of Bouchage, Of Rouaux, and of Chaudriers; They were in their time such brave warriors That their noble bravery (may Mars make it everlasting) Re-took from the English the walls of La Rochelle, Where one of them was so valiant that even today In his honour a street bears his name.       But if it would please you to have as much information About the date of my birth, as about my ancestors, Dear Belleau, then without falsifying anything I shall tell you the true Date, both the year and the day, of my birth.   The year in which King Francis was taken before Pavia, On a Saturday, God granted me life – The 11th September it was – and I very nearly found myself As soon as born, torn away by Fate.   I was not the first of my father’s children, My mother had produced five children before my birth: Two died in the cradle, and to the three living am I In no way similar in either way of life or wealth.       As soon as I was nine, they sent me to college, But I spent only half a year troubling To learn the lessons of the master, de Vailly. Then I left having gained nothing from college. I came to Avignon, where the powerful army Of King Francis was proudly in action Against Charles of Austria; and there I was granted The role of page to the Duke of Orleans; afterwards I was sent In the King of Scotland’s entourage to Scotland Where I spent 30 months, and six in England.     On my return the Duke took me back as page, But I did not stay quietly in the Royal Mews for long Before he sent me to Flanders and Zeeland And then to Scotland, where a great storm Tried to drive the ship, along with Lassigni, Onto the rocks, after blowing it to the coast of England.     More than three whole days the storm lasted, Menacing our lives with water, hail and lightning; In the end, as we arrived with no danger at port, The ship broke into a hundred pieces on the coast Leaving us in the harbour with no losses Except the ship herself, sunk in the salty waves, And our widely-scattered baggage blown about by the wind Which used it as a plaything as it floated on the waves.         Returned from Scotland I lost my job as page And had barely reached the age of sixteen When in 1540 I went with Baïf To Upper Germany, where I learned the language.   But alas, on my return a terrible illness For some end unknown came and stopped up my hearing, And hit me hard with a blow so heavy That still today I remain half-deaf as a result. The year after, in April, love took me unawares As I followed the Court to Blois, through the fair eyes of Cassandre. Whether that name is her true one or not, never will conquering time Wipe that name from the marble [memorial] in my heart.   Eager to learn, I came to be the disciple Of d’Aurat in Paris, and he was for five years my teacher In Greek and Latin; it was at his home that first Our firm friendship began And it shall for all time in my soul, along with that For our friend Baïf, be everlasting.

 

 

Inevitably, there are varants in Blanchemain’s edition (Ronsard’s first version):  for simplicity here is the whole poem with changes marked in red:

ELEGIE XX A REMY BELLEAU Excellent Poëte françois   Je veux, mon cher Belleau, que tu n’ignores point D’où, ne qui est celuy, que les Muses ont joint D’un nœud si ferme à toy, afin que des années, A nos neveux futurs, les courses retournées Ne celent que Belleau et Ronsard n’estoient qu’un, Et que tous deux avoient un mesme cœur commun.       Or quant à mon ancestre, il a tiré sa race D’où le glacé Danube est voisin de la Thrace : Plus bas que la Hongrie, en une froide part, Est un Seigneur nommé le Marquis de Ronsart, Riche d’or et de gens, de villes et de terre. Un de ses fils puisnez ardant de voir la guerre, Un camp d’autres puisnez assembla hazardeux, Et quittant son pays, faict Capitaine d’eux Traversa la Hongrie et la basse Allemaigne. Traversa la Bourgongne et toute la Champaigne, Et soudard vint servir Philippes de Valois, Qui pour lors avoit guerre encontre les Anglois.   Il s’employa si bien au service de France, Que le Roy luy donna des biens à suffisance Sur les rives du Loir : puis du tout oubliant Freres, pere et pays, François se mariant Engendra les ayeux dont est sorty le pere Par qui premier je vy ceste belle lumiere.     Mon pere de Henry gouverna la maison, Fils du grand Roy François, quand il fut en prison Servant de seur hostage à son pere en Espagne: Faut-il pas qu’un servant son Seigneur accompaigne Fidele à sa fortune, et qu’en adversité Luy soit autant loyal qu’en la felicité ?     Du costé maternel j’ay tiré mon lignage De ceux de la Trimouille, et de ceux du Bouchage, Et de ceux des Roüaux, et de ceux des Chaudriers Qui furent en leurs temps si vertueux guerriers, Que leur noble prouesse, au fait des armes belle Reprint sur les Anglois les murs de la Rochelle, Où l’un fut si vaillant qu’encores aujourd’huy Une rue à son los porte le nom de luy.   Mais s’il te plaist avoir autant de cognoissance (Comme de mes ayeux) du jour de ma naissance, Mon Belleau, sans mentir je diray verité Et de l’an et du jour de ma nativité.     L’an que le Roy François fut pris devant Pavie, Le jour d’un Samedy, Dieu me presta la vie L’onziesme de Septembre, et presque je me vy Tout aussi tost que né, de la Parque ravy.     Je ne fus le premier des enfants de mon père, Cinq avant moy longtemps en enfanta ma mere : Deux sont morts au berceau, aux trois vivans en rien Semblable je ne suis ny de mœurs ny de bien.   Si tost que j’eu neuf ans, au college on me meine : Je mis tant seulement un demy an de peine D’apprendre les leçons du regent de Vailly, Puis sans rien profiter du college sailly, Je vins en Avignon, où la puissante armée Du Roy François estoit fierement animée Contre Charles d’Austriche, et là je fus donné Page au Duc d’Orleans : apres je fus mené Suivant le Roy d’Escosse en l’Escossoise terre, Où trente mois je fus, et six en Angleterre.     A mon retour ce Duc pour Pape me reprint : Et guere à l’Escurie en repos ne me tint Qu’il me renvoyast en Flandres et Zelande, Et encore en Escosse, où la tempeste grande Avecques Lassigni, cuida faire toucher Poussée aux bords Anglois ma nef contre un rocher.       Plus de trois jours entiers dura ceste tempeste, D’eau, de gresle et d’esclairs nous menassant la teste : A la fin arrivez sans nul danger au port, La nef en cent morceaux se rompt contre le bord, Nous laissant sur la rade, et point n’y eut de perte Sinon elle qui fut des flots salez couverte, Et le bagage espars que le vent secoüoit, Et qui servoit flottant aux ondes de jouet.     D’Escosse retourné, je fus mis hors de page, Et à peine seize ans avoient borné mon âge, Que l’an cinq cens quarante avec Baïf je vins En la haute Allemaigne, où la langue j’apprins.   Mais làs ! à mon retour une aspre maladie Par ne sçay quel destin me vint boucher l’ouie, Et dure m’accabla d’assommement si lourd, Qu’encores aujourd’huy j’en reste demy-sourd. L’an d’apres en Avril, Amour me fist surprendre, Suivant la Cour à Blois, des beaux yeux de Cassandre Soit le nom faux ou vray, jamais le temps veinqueur N’ostera ce beau nom du marbre de mon cœur.           Incontinent apres disciple je vins estre A Paris, de Daurat qui cinq ans fut mon maistre En Grec et en Latin : chez luy premierement Nostre ferme amitié print son commencement, Laquelle dans mon ame à tout jamais, et celle De nostre amy Baïf sera perpetuelle.

ELEGY 20 TO REMY BELLEAU Excellent poet of France   I’d like, my dear Belleau, for you not to be in any way uninformed About where he’s from, and who he is, this man whom the Muses have bound With so firm a knot to you, such that the years’ Course turning will not hide from our future descendants That Belleau and Ronsard were but one person, The two joined by one shared heart.   So, as for my first ancestor, he came from roots Where the freezing Danube runs beside Thrace; Lower down than Hungary, in a cold region, There was a Lord named Marquis of Ronsart, Rich in gold and retainers, in towns and lands. One of his younger sons, eager to see war, Assembled a band of other daring younger sons And, leaving his country, as their Captain Crossed Hungary and lower Germany, Crossed Burgundy and all of Champagne, And came as a mercenary to serve Philip of Valois Who for some time had been at war with the English.   He acted so well in the service of France That the King gave him plentiful holdings On the banks of the Loir; then forgetting all about Brothers, father and homeland, as a Frenchman he married And bore the ancestors from whom descended the father Through whom I first saw this fair light.   My father managed the household of Henry, Son of the great King Francis, serving his lord When he was in prison as a hostage for his father in Spain; Shouldn’t a servant accompany his Lord, Loyal to his fate, and in bad times Be as loyal to him as in good?   On my mother’s side, I take my lineage From the people of Trimouille, of Bouchage, Of Rouaux, and of Chaudriers; They were in their time such brave warriors That their noble prowess, fair in deeds of arms, Re-took from the English the walls of La Rochelle, Where one of them was so valiant that even today In his honour a street bears his name.   But if it would please you to have as much information About the date of my birth, as about my ancestors, Dear Belleau, then without falsifying anything I shall tell you the true Date, both the year and the day, of my birth.   The year in which King Francis was taken before Pavia, On a Saturday, God granted me life – The 11th September it was – and I very nearly found myself As soon as born, torn away by Fate.   I was not the first of my father’s children, My mother had produced five long before me; Two died in the cradle, and to the three living am I In no way similar in either way of life or wealth.   As soon as I was nine, they sent me to college, But I spent only half a year troubling To learn the lessons of the master, de Vailly. Then I left having gained nothing from college. I came to Avignon, where the powerful army Of King Francis was proudly in action Against Charles of Austria; and there I was granted The role of page to the Duke of Orleans; afterwards I was sent In the King of Scotland’s entourage to Scotland Where I spent 30 months, and six in England.   On my return the Duke took me back [on the Pope’s behalf??]    [surely a misprint for ‘page’?!] But barely had I stopped quietly in the Royal Mews Before he sent me to Flanders and Zeeland And again to Scotland, where a great storm Tried to drive my ship, along with Lassigni, Onto the rocks, after blowing it to the coast of England.   More than three whole days the storm lasted, Menacing our lives with water, hail and lightning; In the end, as we arrived with no danger at port, The ship broke into a hundred pieces on the coast Leaving us in the harbour with no losses Except the ship herself, sunk in the salty waves, And our widely-scattered baggage blown about by the wind Which used it as a plaything as it floated on the waves.   Returned from Scotland I lost my job as page And had barely reached the age of sixteen When in 1540 I went with Baïf To Upper Germany, where I learned the language.   But alas, on my return a terrible illness For some end unknown came and stopped up my hearing, And hit me hard with a blow so heavy That still today I remain half-deaf as a result. The year after, in April, love took me unawares As I followed the Court to Blois, through the fair eyes of Cassandre. Whether that name is her true one or not, never will conquering time Remove that fair name from the marble [memorial] in my heart.   Immediately afterwards, I came to be the disciple Of Daurat in Paris, and he was for five years my teacher In Greek and Latin; it was at his home that first Our firm friendship began And it shall for all time in my soul, along with that For our friend Baïf, be everlasting.

(As noted in the text, I assume the printing of “Pape” instead of “page” is a typo. My approximation of what the Pope might be doing in there is really not a translation of what the French says in any case!)

2 – biographical notes

(i) Blanchemain

Blanchemain litters his text with footnotes: as he puts it “we have retained (‘conservé’) all the notes on this piece…” – though I am not sure which early edition he’s “conserved” them from. So here are the relevant lines from the translation of his edition (above), paired with his notes. My own additions or clarifications are in [brackets]:

So, as for my first ancestor, he came from roots

Where the freezing Danube runs beside Thrace;

Lower down than Hungary, in a cold region,

There was a Lord named Marquis of Ronsart,

Rich in gold and retainers, in towns and lands.

One of his younger sons, eager to see war,

Assembled a band of other daring younger sons

And, leaving his country, as their Captain

Crossed Hungary and lower Germany,

Crossed Burgundy and all of Champagne,

And came as a mercenary to serve Philip of Valois

Who for some time had been at war with the English.

He acted so well in the service of France

That the King gave him plentiful holdings

On the banks of the Loir;

This ancestor of our poet, who came from the lower Danube to offer his services to Philip of Valois, was called Marucini or Mârâcinâ like his father, who added to his name the title of Bano (Ban). Once settled in France he translated his paternal name and title literally, changing ‘bano’ into Marquis and Marucini (=Ronces – bramble; or Roncière – bramble-bush) into Ronsard. Source: Ubicini 1855, Romanian Popular Songs collected by Alecsandri [see further the notes below about Alecsandri’s contribution on this origins story].

My father managed the household of Henry,

Son of the great King Francis, serving his lord

When he was in prison as a hostage for his father in Spain;

Henry = Henry II, then Duke of Orleans. It was a great thing at that time to be in charge of the king’s household; for his responsibilities were given only to noble folk and there were no valets [grooms] who were not gentlemen.

King Francis I, who was captured before Pavia covered in dust and blood, returned to France [in exchange for] leaving his two sons, Francis the dauphin & Henry Duke of Orleans (later king) as hostages in Spain.

On my mother’s side, I take my lineage

From the people of Trimouille, of Bouchage,

Of Rouaux, and of Chaudriers;

Trimouille: the princess, mother of the Prince of Condé, bore this name.  Bouchage: of the house of Joyeuse, father of madame de Guise, mother of mlle. De Montpensier.  Rouaux: from which came that great warrior Joachim Roüaut [Rouault], marshal of France under Charles VII [actually, under Louis XI in 1461 rather than under Charles; Jeanne Chaudrier, Ronsard’s mother, was a descendant].  Chaudriers: an ancient house [going back to the Mayor of la Rochelle c1300;  Ronsard’s mother was also Dame du Bouchaige].

 … and I very nearly found myself

As soon as born, torn away by Fate.

The maid carrying him when they were taking him to baptism dropped him on a meadow, specified as the pré Bouju by Cohen(!).

Two died in the cradle, and to the three living am I

In no way similar in either way of life or wealth.

Descended from the eldest brother and still alive in 1623, his grandsons, were de la Poissonière & the knight Ronsard, and several girls descended from one or the other of the children.

 As soon as I was nine, they sent me to college,

He studied at the college in Navarre under a man called de Vailly, beneath whom also studied the Cardinal of Lorraine [a member of the influential Guise family].

 I came to Avignon, where the powerful army

Of King Francis was proudly in action

Against Charles of Austria; and there I was granted

The role of page to the Duke of Orleans; afterwards I was sent

In the King of Scotland’s entourage to Scotland

Where I spent 30 months, and six in England.

Charles = Charles V, [Holy Roman] Emperor and King of Spain, who attacked Provence and who boasted he’d hold Paris like Madrid.

Orleans = Henry II, being Dauphin on the death of his brother, poisoned at Tournon by the Count of Montecuculo [Count Sebastiano de Montecuccoli, secretary to the Dauphin, was executed for his murder though it is likely the Dauphin died of tuberculosis].

Ronsard made the journey to Scotland in 1536, in the entourage of James V who had just married Madeleine, daughter of Francis I, in Paris. That king married secondly [Mary of Guise] the sister of M de Guise, Francis of Lorraine; from whence comes the blood-relationship between the Guise family & the king of England.

Before he sent me to Flanders and Zeeland

And again to Scotland, where a great storm

Tried to drive my ship, along with Lassigni,

Onto the rocks,

Flanders: the Duke of Orleans sent Ronsard, who was his page, to Flanders and Zeeland, with several letters of credit that he sent to his mistress, niece of the Emperor.

Lassigni: a French lord.

When in 1540 I went with Baïf

To Upper Germany,

This was Lazare Baïf, a gentleman of Anjou, related to those [gentlemen] de Laval [an important family, producing several marshals of France in mid-1400s] and de Guimené; the king’s ambassador in Germany as he had been in Venice; a very learned man, witness the books he wrote De re navali [About naval matters] and De re vestiaria [Concerning clothes]. He was father of Jean Antoine Baïf, excellent poet.

(ii) additional notes

“My father was always while living here

In charge of the King’s household “

“My father managed the household of Henry,

Son of the great King Francis, serving his lord

When he was in prison as a hostage for his father in Spain;”

Loys de Ronsard served Louis XII with distinction in the Italian wars between 1495 and 1515 – being present at the taking of Milan in 1499 and Genoa in 1507, the capture of Ludovico Sforza in 1500, and the battles of Agnadello (1509) and Marignano (1515). After the King’s death Loys became maître-d’hotel and then premier maître-d’hotel to King Francis I and remained in France, but following the disastrous battle of Pavia when the King was captured he spent the years 1526-30 in Spain with the hostages who had been swapped for the King’s freedom after Pavia: the dauphin Francis and his younger brother Henry, later Henry II. He brought back a fair bit of Renaissance sculpture from Italy to adorn his home (the Château de la Poissonière, near Vendôme, where his son Pierre was later born), among the earlier Frenchmen to appreciate the new art burgeoning in Italy.

 “The year in which King Francis was taken before Pavia,

On a Saturday, God granted me life –

The 11th September it was”

Ronsard’s birthdate is a cause of endless confusion, argument and uncertainty. It amuses me that the biography on Wikipedia.fr states three different dates in three different places… We know where he was born (the Château de la Poissonière, near Vendôme), but not quite when. Ronsard says here he was born on Saturday 11^th September 1524.  However, the 11^th September was in fact a Sunday in 1524.  (And, because 1524 was a leap year, it was a Friday the year before; and thus 11^th September was never a Saturday in the 1520s!)  Other dates suggested therefore include Saturday 10^th; as well as Friday 2^nd or even late at night on Saturday 10^th as it was just turning into Sunday(!). Perhaps  from a mis-reading of the poem, a tradition grew up that he was born on the date of the Battle of Pavia, 25^th February 1525, as well. [Note: this is still ‘in the same year’ as his birth because new year was at the beginning of March at this time.] The 2^nd September 1525, and even 6^th September 1522 – both of which are Saturdays – have also been suggested. The fact is, we will never know: but a date in early September 1524 seems likeliest.

 “I was not the first of my father’s children,

My mother had produced five long before me;

Two died in the cradle”

We know that Ronsard had a sister and two brothers: Louise (b. 1514), Claude (b. 1515) and Charles (b. 1519) who entered the church. He was the last born – and (as he says here) a ‘long time’, five years, after the other children. However, Chalandon writing in 1875 mentions also a fifth surviving child, another Loys, who became abbé at Tyron; I haven’t been able to track down anything more about this claim, which seems an extraordinary one – would Ronsard have forgotten or attempted to erase the existence of one of his brothers?

 “As soon as I was nine, they sent me to college,

But I spent only half a year troubling

To learn the lessons of the master, de Vailly”

Ronsard went to the Collège de Navarre (part of the university of Paris) in the autumn of 1533, perhaps in preparation for a career in the Catholic church to which, as a younger son, his father may have destined him.  He left quickly, though it is not clear why: perhaps because the teaching was bad, more probably because he didn’t like the idea of a church career and wanted to see some excitement with the Court and the army. Simonin’s 1990 biography also suggests he left college (or perhaps was removed by his family?) because of agitation there by the Protestant reformer Gérard Roussel. This was of course a period of immense tensions in France, as in the rest of Europe, between the established church and protestant reformers. While he was there, though, Ronsard apparently made the acquaintance of Charles de Guise, later Cardinal of Lorraine, and as a Guise a member of a powerful and influential family. Another, Mary of Guise, later married James V of Scotland and precipitated Ronsard’s return to France.

It is interesting to note that one of the great theologians of the time, Mathurin Cordier, had been master at the college a few years earlier, though he had moved on to another college by this time.

 “there I was granted

The role of page to the Duke of Orleans; afterwards I was sent

In the King of Scotland’s entourage to Scotland

Where I spent 30 months, and six in England”

Ronsard was appointed a page at Court in 1536, initially to the Dauphin but when he died soon afterwards he joined (as he says) the suite of Charles, Duke of Orleans.  When the King’s daughter, Madeleine (sister of Charles) was married to King James V of Scotland in January 1537, Ronsard was given to Madeleine by Charles and went to Scotland in her service. She died in June the same year, and was thus known as the ‘Summer Queen’ by the Scots. The boy Ronsard was then attached to the Court of King James. There is little corroborating detail for Ronsard’s claim to have spent 3 years abroad; some doubt the whole story. But it seems probable that he stayed in Scotland until 1538, when the king re-married; and thus it seems likely (to me at least) that his 3 years in England and Scotland includes time later when he travelled in the suite of Lassigny (below). It’s not clear why he spent 6 months in England; but there are later links with the Renaissance court there and it is possible the precocious teenage Ronsard was extending his knowledge of humanist poetry and poetic forms at Henry VIII’s court?

 “But barely had I stopped quietly in the Royal Mews

Before he sent me to Flanders and Zeeland

And again to Scotland where a great storm

Tried to drive my ship, along with Lassigni,

Onto the rocks, after blowing it to the coast of England”

Returning to France, Ronsard joined the other pages in the Écurie or Stable (we might perhaps say the Royal Mews), where all the pages were housed. Scholars tend to say he then joined the suite of Claude d’Humières, Seigneur de Lassigny, who was an equerry in charge of the pages (at an annual remuneration of 400 livres) and with him travelled in Flanders. Cohen states that they left on 24th December 1538. Then in 1539-40 Ronsard was again in England and Scotland. Notably, though, Ronsard only links Lassigny with the shipwreck in England. So perhaps (with Blanchemain, and following Ronsard’s lead) we might conclude that the missions to Flanders and Zeeland were in the service of the Duke of Orleans instead?  (Nothing beyond Ronsard’s own account seems to exist to add detail about the place of the shipwreck, nor his missions in Flanders and Scotland.)

“And had barely reached the age of sixteen

When in 1540 I went with Baïf

To Upper Germany, where I learned the language”

Again a page to the Duke of Orleans in 1539, Ronsard joined the embassy sent to Germany in 1540. This was led by Lazare de Baïf, whose son Jean-Antoine also accompanied him. It is possible that Ronsard was sent by the Duke to keep an eye on things; the embassy was designed to try to detach some of the German princes from Charles V’s side and perhaps bring them into alliance with France, and no doubt the Duke would have liked to have his own sources of information as well as the ‘official’ sources. (The embassy is sometimes referred to as going to the Diet of Speyer; the Diet was though convened by Charles V, so this mission might have been rather delicate – if the Diet had been in session in 1540, which it wasn’t. Cohen however says the embassy stayed in Haguenau, in the Alsace – nearby, and perhaps a more obvious target for French alliances.)

Cohen doubts that Ronsard bothered to learn German; it wasn’t a very useful language at the time!

“on my return a terrible illness

For some end unknown came and stopped up my hearing,

And hit me hard with a blow so heavy

That still today I remain half-deaf as a result”

Struck by illness (Cohen postulates a possible venereal origin!), Ronsard retired to Poissonière for a lengthy recovery. Half-deaf he decided to abandon a politico-military career and turned again to study, perhaps with a view to some sort of church career. He in fact took the tonsure in 1543; this did not make him a priest but it did make him eligible for a number of church posts from which he could have drawn (and later did draw) income. In the event, though, he remained in the service of Charles of Orleans and attached to the Court.

“The year after, in April, love took me unawares

As I followed the Court to Blois, through the fair eyes of Cassandre”

“The year after” – after what?  If it was the year after visiting Germany as Ronsard’s text implies that would be 1541 – which is too early.  So it’s likely to be a year after his illness and convalescence – implying a 2-3 period for these (see above). While Ronsard is certain he met Cassandre at Blois in April 1546, court records apparently show that the court did not go to Blois in 1546! There was however a ball held there in 1545, so it seems likely the two met in that year – and Ronsard’s memory was at fault…

 “Immediately afterwards, I came to be the disciple

Of d’Aurat in Paris”

So when did Ronsard move to Paris? Immediately after what?  (Or perhaps the later change to the text means it wasn’t ‘immediately after’?) Ronsard’s parents both died in 1544, and Lazare de Baïf apparently stepped in to offer the young man the chance to study in Paris, with the younger Baïf under Jean Dorat (D’Aurat). Initially the pair lived at the Baïf residence, as did Dorat who had been engaged to tutor Jean-Antoine; but Lazare died in 1547, and it is likely that at this point Dorat installed himself at the Collège de Coqueret where he became principal around this time. The ‘five years’ spent under Dorat would therefore include those initial years when they studied privately with him.

“… it was at his home that first

Our firm friendship began”

Although after Lazare de Baïf’s death Ronsard and the younger Baïf moved out and apparently joined Dorat, it is not clear that they attended his Collège. That is hardly “chez luy”.  Indeed Ronsard entered into a contract to rent no.2, rue de la Poterie, at Easter 1548 jointly with a minor cleric – interesting evidence also of a continued involvement in ecclesiastical circles.  Baïf and Ronsard were joined under Dorat’s tutelage by Belleau, and then by du Bellay, at this time – the core of the Pléiade. At least one source refers to the Pléiade arising from ‘teaching/learning [enseignement] at Chef Saint-Jean’ – Dorat’s own home. Perhaps then the group met informally at Dorat’s house rather than formally at the Collège. And it was from this context that du Bellay launched the Pléiade’s “manifesto” Défense et illustration de la langue française in 1549 and Ronsard exploded the bombshell of his first major collection, the Odes I-IV, in 1550.

3 – a Romanian (or Bulgarian) ancestor?

“So, as for my first ancestor, he came from roots

Where the freezing Danube runs beside Thrace;

Lower down than Hungary, in a cold region,

There was a Lord named Marquis of Ronsart,”

Did Mârâcinâ Ban exist, and was he Ronsard’s ancestor? The probable answer is no: this was quite possibly a family tradition which Ronsard reports – though it has also been suggested it might be pure imagination on his part!

The romantic tradition of Ronsard’s Romanian origins was not just popular in France. A French teacher and activist working in Romania during the 1830s -40s, Jean Vaillant, adopted Ronsard’s story in his 1844 book La Roumanie, using him as a symbol of the links between France and Romania.  Then the Romanian poet Vasile Alecsandri, writing in Paris after the failure of the 1848 Wallachian revolution, produced Banul Mărăcină in 1855 (though it was not published till 1861). This developed the bare bones of Ronsard’s story with circumstantial detail: Alecsandri made Mărăcină a boyar, lord of Ronsart, governor of Craiova (70 miles west of Bucharest, now Romania’s 6th largest city); and specified a troop of 50 younger sons coming to liberate France. It interests me that Blanchemain used Alecsandri’s “research” (indirectly) as a source for his footnote providing the story.

But romantic legends are not facts.

Further scholarly activity in France established that Ronsard’s grandfather was Olivier Ronsart or Roussart, who was an enfeoffed sergeant (sergent fieffé) in Gastine forest. Though some have said this title is, in modern terms, a gamekeeper it is worth noting that Loys de Ronsard carried the same title; I think it would therefore be better to see him as ‘warden of the forest’ or equivalent, a minor noble rather than a mere gamekeeper. He was a vassal of the Du Bellay family, ancestors of Joachim du Bellay.

Minor gentility does not of course invalidate a romantic Romanian origin, several generations further back. And scholars have identified a tradition which might be relevant: “a certain Baudoin Rossart came to France with John of Bohemia to fight the English at Crécy in 1346. King Philip of Valois apparently gave him as a sign of his recognition a domain in the Vendômois, where the brave gallant established himself.”  (Alliot & Baillou 1926, in a quatercentenary volume on Ronsard)  The same scholars also turned up an 11th century cartulary mentioning a ‘moulin Ronzart’ (Ronzart mill), however; which might suggest that the family had French origins several centuries older than the ‘Romanian link’.

And perhaps Romania is the wrong place to look anyway? At the end of the 19th century a Hungarian suggested that the lower Danubian area in question is Bulgaria – and even pointed to a town called Tarnovo which could (just) be translated as ‘Ronces’ (brambles). Today, there is a Musée Ronsard in Tarnovo…

Where does this leave us? For some scholars Olivier Ronsart’s ‘humble’ title of sergent fieffé means the Romanian/Bulgarian story cannot be true; others find no reason to argue against a possible East European root for the family. For myself, I rather like the Baudoin Rossart story but am not convinced.

In the end, does it matter? Ronsard came from minor noble stock; whether those minor nobles were home-grown, or came from dashing romantic Balkan stock racing across Europe in a crusade to ‘liberate France’, is really only a question of how colourful the story of his ancestry is!

My source for much of the detail in this section is:  N Popa  La Légende des Origines Roumaines de Ronsard in Lumières de la Pléiade (9^ème Stage International d’Etudes Huamnistes, Tours 1965. Special thanks to nikolchina for providing a link to http://www.patev.net/origironsard.htm which – for French readers – provides substantially more detail on the controversy over Ronsard’s Bulgarian roots, and takes a slightly less ambivalent attitude to the possibility. It also has some helpful maps!