continued to progress unbroken and unchecked, the future literature of France would have closely resembled the contemporary literatures of Spain and England—­that it would have continued to be characterized by the experimental boldness and the loose exuberance of the masters of the sixteenth century.  But in France the movement was checked:  and the result was a body of literature, not only of the highest value, but also of a unique significance in European letters.

The break in the Renaissance movement was largely the result of political causes.  The stability and peace which seemed to be so firmly established by the brilliant monarchy of Francis I vanished with the terrible outbreak of the Wars of Religion.  For about sixty years, with a few intermissions, the nation was a prey to the horrors of civil strife.  And when at last order was restored under the powerful rule of Cardinal Richelieu, and the art of writing began to be once more assiduously practised, the fresh rich glory of the Renaissance spirit had irrevocably passed away.  Already, early in the seventeenth century, the poetry of MALHERBE had given expression to new theories and new ideals.  A man of powerful though narrow intelligence, a passionate theorist, and an ardent specialist in grammar and the use of words, Malherbe reacted violently both against the misplaced and artificial erudition of the Pleiade and their unforced outbursts of lyric song.  His object was to purify the French tongue; to make it—­even at the cost of diminishing its flavour and narrowing its range—­strong, supple, accurate and correct; to create a language which, though it might be incapable of expressing the fervours of personal passion or the airy fancies of dreamers, would be a perfect instrument for the enunciation of noble truths and fine imaginations, in forms at once simple, splendid and sincere.  Malherbe’s importance lies rather in his influence than in his actual work.  Some of his Odes—­among which his great address to Louis XIII on the rebellion of La Rochelle deserves the highest place—­are admirable examples of a restrained, measured and weighty rhetoric, moving to the music not of individual emotion, but of a generalized feeling for the beauty and grandeur of high thoughts.  He was essentially an oratorical poet; but unfortunately the only forms of verse ready to his hand were lyrical forms; so that his genius never found a full scope for its powers.  Thus his precept outweighs his example.  His poetical theories found their full justification only in the work of his greater and more fortunate successors; and the masters of the age of Louis XIV looked back to Malherbe as the intellectual father of their race.