[In the essay below, Braybrook reassesses the episodic, fragmented quality of the narrative of Ronsard's La Franciade.]

La Franciade was Ronsard's only attempt at a full length epic. In it he set out to glorify the French monarchy and to show that the French were descended from the Trojan Francus, the son of Hector rescued from a bloodthirsty Pyrrhus thanks to a sleight of hand on the part of Jupiter. As the rhyme Franciade-Iliade suggests, Ronsard originally intended to produce twenty-four books. He spent years planning his poem: in April 1550, in his Ode de la Paix […]. au Roi, dedicated to Henri II, he made the prophetess Cassandra reveal the outline of the vast work to which he had already turned his thoughts (inspired no doubt by the urgings of Du Bellay's Deffence et illustration). Again, in 1555, Ronsard dedicated to Henri II the first poem in his Troisième livre des odes and sketched the main events he wished his epic to cover. There are many other references in his work to his great undertaking. Yet in spite of this preparation his poem remains a fragment, for in the event he published—in September 1572—only four books and, although he carefully revised these for each new edition of his works, left no trace of anything he may have written for subsequent books. Until recently, critics have tended simply to see the epic as a failure. In so doing, they have overlooked the interest with which it was originally received (the four books were published four times between 1572 and 1574) and the imitations it prompted. More importantly, I believe they have neglected to study the way the features which led to the incompleteness of La Franciade lie at the heart of Ronsard's conception of poetry and contribute to the rich texture of his writing. In this [essay] I attempt to redress the balance by providing a more positive interpretation of the fragmentary character of the work.

It is perfectly possible to find reasons involving external circumstances to explain why Ronsard never completed his epic. A major factor he himself repeatedly adduces in other poems is the lack of patronage and encouragement from those he set out to celebrate. Although he frequently reminded the King from 1550 onwards that financial support is vital for the epic poet, he did not receive the abbey of Bellozane and the priory of S.-Cosme-lez-Tours until 1564. It is true that he then seems to have been encouraged by Charles IX, who had the fourth book of La Franciade read to him at Blois in September 1571 by Amadis Jamyn, Ronsard's secretary, in the presence of the historian Girard du Haillan. However, when Ronsard had at last achieved the recognition for which he had fought, he was brought to a halt by the monarch's death. In a quatrain at the end of Book IV in the 1578 edition, he comments:

Si le Roy Charles eust vescu,
J'eusse achevé ce long ouvrage:
Si tost que la mort l'eut veincu,
Sa mort me veinquist le courage.

A related reason is that Ronsard was discouraged by awareness of his own increasing age. In the 'Preface sur la Franciade, touchant le poëme Heroïque', published posthumously in the 1587 edition, he writes:

en telle peinture, ou plustost imitation de la nature consiste toute l'ame de la Poesie Heroïque, laquelle n'est qu'un enthousiasme & fureur d'un jeune cerveau. Celuy qui devient vieil, matté d'un sang refroidy, peut bien dire à dieu aux Graces et aux Muses.

(This motif of old age reminds one of the Sonnets pour Helene of 1578, in which one discerns an ironic and often bitter return to epic and in particular Trojan material.) Finally one is tempted to think that Ronsard may have rehearsed too often the main episodes of his Franciade, with the result that they had lost their freshness when he came to develop them.

Just as important, however, are tendencies present within the poem itself, which contribute at once to its fascination and its incompleteness. As a prelude to my consideration of these tendencies I shall take two passages from the 'Preface sur la Franciade'. In the first Ronsard speaks of the poets who

d'une petite scintille font naistre un grand brazier, & d'une petite cassine font un magnifique Palais, qu'ils enrichissent, dorent & embellissent par le dehors de marbre, Jaspe & Porphire, de guillochis, ovalles, frontispices & piedsdestals, frises & chapiteaux, & par dedans de Tableaux, tapisseries eslevees & bossees d'or & d'argent, & le dedans des tableaux cizelez & burinez, raboteux & difficile à tenir és mains, à cause de la rude engraveure des personnages qui semblent vivre dedans. Apres ils adjoustent vergers & jardins, compartimens & larges allees.

The extract evokes a highly ornate poem full of different episodes attracting the eye, a poem to be read at the sort of leisurely pace considered by Goethe and Schiller in their famous exchange of letters, April 1797, to be essential to the epic. The second passage from the 'Preface sur la Franciade' is, on the other hand, entirely different, and would not have met with the complete approval of Goethe and Schiller. Ronsard here lays emphasis on the importance of variety, movement and brevity in the epic:

Car la Poesie Heroïque qui est dramatique, & qui ne consiste qu'en action, ne peut longuement traicter un mesme subject, mais passer de l'un à l'autre en cent sortes de varietez.

I shall deal briefly with this extract first.

It could be argued that in the fourth book, in which Hyante reveals to Francus a procession of the kings of France and in which the influence of Book VI of the Æneid is clear, Ronsard has tried to observe his own precepts and to pass rapidly, if not from one subject to another, then at least from one monarch to the next. He provides variety by means of the question and answer technique: Hyante replies to Francus's queries. He also adorns the review of kings with moral observations which appealed to his sixteenth-century readers and stood in the tradition of the 'mirror for princes': thus in lines 1627 to 1647 he warns against flatterers. The narrative in Book IV becomes unilinear and conforms to historical chronology. Yet Ronsard never completed his procession, although it had been part of his earliest plans for the epic, as lines 89 to 96 of the 1555 Ode 'Au Roy' reveal:

In fact when he came to write La Franciade he seems to have had serious doubts about the effectiveness of this catalogue. He blames Charles IX for having imposed it upon him:

Et si je parle de nos Monarques plus longuement que l'art Virgilien ne le permet, tu dois sçavoir, Lecteur, que Virgile (comme en toutes autres choses) en cettecy est plus heureux que moy, qui vivoit sous Auguste, second Empereur, tellement que n'estant chargé que de peu de Rois & de Cesars, ne devoit beaucoup allonger le papier, où j'ay le faix de soixante & trois Rois sur les bras. Et si tu me dis que d'un si grand nombre je ne devois eslire que les principaux, je te responds que Charles, nostre Seigneur & Roy, par une genereuse & magnanime candeur, n'a voulu permettre que ses ayeulx fussent preferez les uns aux autres. ('Au Lecteur', 1572)

Whether one believes this disclaimer or not, one feels that the rapidly moving list of kings is essentially foreign to Ronsard's talents: only the relatively leisurely and ornamented episode narrating the conflict between Charles-Martel and the Saracens recalls the manner of the first three books.

It is indeed the first passage we considered from the 'Preface sur la Franciade' which more effectively evokes the atmosphere and pace of Books I to III and part of Book IV (the first meeting of Francus and Hyante alone). Instead of rushing headlong through the æons of history, Ronsard highlights short periods of time and adorns the narrative present with clusters of comparisons, occasionally opening out wider vistas via prophecy and retrospection and creating an impression of Homeric epic depth. When I reflect on La Franciade as a whole, I perceive it as a series of highly developed episodes which have much in common with the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes. Foremost amongst these is the battle between Francus and Phovére in Book II—a section upon which Ronsard lavished particular care, as the numerous variants indicate. This duel has medieval qualities and also echoes Apollonius, Valerius Flaccus (Book IV of the Argonautica), Virgil (Æneid III and V) and Ariosto (Orlando furioso). But it is above all quintessentially Ronsardian and follows fairly closely the first part of Ronsard's 'Hymne de Pollux et de Castor' of 1556. In spite of its subject matter—which belongs to the realm of action and might therefore lead one to expect the rapid tempo recommended in the second excerpt from the 'Preface'—it is characterized by its proliferating narrative line, which is best illustrated by a swift summary of the main images it contains.

As the fight increases in intensity, a hypotyposis is found, describing the actions and sounds involved in making a bridge (ll. 1259-66; cf. Orlando furioso, XLVI. 122). Workmen drive in the piles gradually, 'coup dessus coup' (l. 1264), and the river banks echo to the noise. The river and 'le creux rivage' are stencilled in. Ronsard also imitates the sound of the blows, in the dull echo linking one line with another: 'congnent', 'besongnent', 'pont', 'tonne', 'resonne'. In lines 1283 to 1292, Phovére is likened to a 'flot courroucé' and Francus to a 'bon pilote expert' (cf. Apollonius, Argonautica IV, ll. 70—75, and Valerius Flaccus, Argonautica II, ll. 268-72). Shortly after this, one finds an instance of hypotyposis which takes one away from the duel itself in order to suggest the fear Clymene and Hyante feel on thinking Francus dead. They are likened to two doves:

Mais tout ainsi qu'on voit deux colombelles
Fremir de peur soubs les griffes cruelles
De l'espervier, qui n'agueres avoient
Laissé leur nid, & legeres devoient,
S'en retourner au colombier pour paistre
Leurs chers enfans qui ne font que de naistre,
Ainsi trembloient dans l'estomac les cueurs,
A longs soupirs, des deux royalles sœurs.
(ll. 1333-40)

The variants suggest how carefully Ronsard reworked his image. From 1578 to 1584, the mention of the dove-cote was replaced by a specific indication of the sort of food the doves were bringing. The interpolation, 'a longs soupirs', in the last line, which produced a disjointed effect, was removed. In 1587, the structure of lines 1336 to 1340 was further normalized by means of the exclusion of the hyperbaton in the last two lines. These two alterations concern the syntax rather than the content of the image; but they do reveal Ronsard examining attentively a passage of secondary narrative. In all the versions, the simile refuses to be connected point by point to the narrative proper: the chicks in the comparison have no obvious narrative counterpart.

Shortly afterwards come three brief similes (ll. 1358-63; ll. 1365-67; ll. 1391-93). Then Francus is wounded: two images are presented as alternatives (ll. 1405-10). Ronsard thus provides a threefold view of the scene: Francus's actual wound and two things it conjures up in the mind of an onlooker.

In the original edition, lines 1413 to 1414 briefly evoke waves and a rock. They in fact further the progress of the narrative, for, when compared with lines 1287 to 1290, they suggest a reversal of roles: Francus is now the attacking wave. Lines 1415 to 1416 link Phovére with metal and marble. In the edition of 1587, however, lines 1389 to 1418 are replaced by a passage including an extended simile which, like lines 1391 to 1393, associates the contestants with bulls:

Comme Toreaux (quand la saison nouvelle
Les appetits de Venus renouvelle)
Se vont tuant & navrant pour l'amour:
La jeune troupe est muette à l'entour
Qui les regarde, ignorant qui doit estre
D'un tel Duel le veinqueur & le maistre.

Attention shifts here from the activity of Francus and Phovére to the silence and stasis of the bystanders. The narrative tempo slows considerably.

In all the editions another simile ensues, comparing Francus to an eagle (ll. 1419-26). The fact that Francus throws himself at Phovére with renewed vigour suffices to introduce this detailed comparison. Then, when Phovére is knocked to the ground, a traditionally epic tree image occurs (ll. 1436-38). The 1587 variant extends this image: the 'sapin' becomes an oak, 'Oracle és forests de Dodonne'; the poet elaborates on the fear of the birds nesting in it and on how it is uprooted.

The final similes in the passage concern Phovére's death. Most striking is the evocation of blood spurting from his body:

Ainsi que d'un conduit
S'eschape l'eau qui jallissant se suit,
Et d'une longue & saillante rousée
Baigne la place à l'entour arrosée,
Ainsi le sang bouillonnant s'en alla.
(ll. 1455-59)

These lines are concerned with seething movement, which the present participles help to convey. Yet they retard the progression of the central narrative: mention of the blood is postponed and the second 'Ainsi' reminds one that a hiatus has occurred. Changing patterns are described, only to be effaced with the 's'en alla' at the end of the sentence. [In Ronsard the Poet, edited by Terence Cave] I. D. McFarlane calls this 'one of the most impressive illustrations' of the motif of dissolution, ebbing, in Ronsard. This is however a dissolution preceded by intense activity; it is interesting that the cessation of the combat should be accompained by such plenitude on the level of the imagery.

From the start of the duel proper to its end, the narrative is thus enriched by means of similes that cluster around the central line. Some reinforce the sense while drawing little attention to themselves. But the lengthy images attract the reader's notice in their own right: when the two sisters are likened to doves, the initial referent is soon forgotten, so vivid is the picture of the birds being caught by a sparrow-hawk. At many stages the linear narrative focused on the battle ramifies into evocations of such things as animal life or everyday occupations. Eye-witness formulae (usually 'Ainsi qu'on voit') inform the reader that he is momentarily deviating from the central récit. Of the 236 lines taken up by the duel in 1572, 75 (32% of the passage) are aborned with similes. The total is high for an excerpt devoted to something as dramatic as an armed struggle. It reflects Ronsard's concern, not with action as such, but with the aesthetic configurations to which a sequence of events lends itself, the reflection of action in images.

A more general survey of the structure of Books I to III reinforces one's impression that Ronsard likes above all to develop individual episodes gradually and in detail. The poem begins slowly: I am reminded here of Gérard Genette's observations in Figures III on the multiple beginnings in Proust's A la recherche du temps perdu. After Ronsard's invocation to the Muse and the Charles IX comes a passage in which Jupiter recalls the fall of Troy from which he saved Francus (I, ll. 33-140). He then reveals to Juno the glorious future awaiting the hero (ll. 165-286). With this expansion into past and future the exposition is complete and the reader's expectations are aroused. However, the heroic action does not yet begin. Various messages and reprimands have to be delivered by the gods and by Hector's shade before Francus is ready to embark on his mission. This is very different from the opening in medias res which Ronsard advocates in his 'Abbregé de l'Art poëtique françois' of 1565, in his epistle 'Au Lecteur' of 1572 and in the 'Preface sur la Franciade'. At last Francus and his men set sail, and the conclusion of Book I is a triumphant celebration of their departure and of the completion of the crucial first phase of the epic Ronsard has been planning for so long. Ships and poem fuse in a passage full of movement and sound which shows how flexible the Ronsardian decasyllable can be:

This is an ending imbued with the promise of adventures to come, one of the high points of Ronsard's epic. The poet opens Book II by operating a shift in perspective for which the fading of the land from sight and the final word of Book I had implicitly prepared us: we now look down on the ships through the eyes of the gods 'au sommet de la croupe / Du mont Olympe' (ll. 2-3). But the movement evoked is soon cut short by a tempest and shipwreck. Epics thrive on such retarding features, as Goethe and Schiller knew. Ronsard has borrowed these particular motifs from the first book of the Æneid; in themselves they emphasize the difficulty and heroic grandeur of Francus's undertaking. It is, however, interesting to note that the Virgilian storm arises when Æneas and his men have been voyaging for seven years, whereas Francus is deflected from his course virtually at the outset. Comparison with Virgil is fruitful too at the point where Francus and those of his men who survive are washed up on the shores of Crete. As Ménager has convincingly shown [in his Ronsard: Le roi, le poète et les hommes, 1979], this represents a return to the past, to the ancient maternal roots of the Trojan people. Dicæe informs Francus:

Vous ne pressez une terre étrangere.
C'est, ô Troyens, vostre ancienne mere,
Crete, dont Teucre autrefois est issu,
De qui le nom pour tiltre avez receu:
Encore Ida la montagne troyenne
S'esleve icy, la demeure ancienne
De vos aieux.
(ll. 617-23)

The regressive tendencies of the poem at this stage are symbolized by the fact that the first thing Francus and his men do on reaching Crete and saying a fervent prayer is fall into a deep sleep (ll. 371-74). Æneas similarly landed on Crete, since he erroneously thought that an oracle had directed him there; but in the space of a few lines in Book III he became aware of his mistake and set sail again. Francus lingers on the island much longer—and indeed never progresses beyond it. After the spritely lines at the end of Book I Ronsard sails, not forward to the oceans he charted in 1550 and 1555, but backwards to the origins of his hero's race.

The whole of Book III—which, at 1520 lines, is longer than either Book I or Book II—reinforces one's impression of Ronsard's reluctance to move with alacrity along his epic trajectory. It tells of Clymene's passion, jealousy and death. It moves at a leisurely pace, allocating much space to direct speech. True, it is partly modelled on Dido's love for Æneas; but Virgil's hero has already accomplished much and has much to tell by the time he encounters the Carthaginian queen. Francus is delayed at a far earlier stage in his mission. Moreover, reduplication lies at the heart of La Franciade at this point, for Clymene, having perished for her love, is immediately replaced by an equally amorous Hyante, whose feelings are explored in some detail. The parallel between Hyante and Virgil's Anna does not fully explain this feature of Ronsard's poem, as the relationship between Anna and the Trojan is never placed in the foreground.

Throughout the third book of La Franciade, the influence not only of Virgil but of Apollonius's depiction of Medea's love for Jason is clear; and I have already suggested that the episodic nature of La Franciade owes much to the Argonautica. However, in presenting his psychological analysis and, say, the letter Clymene writes to Francus, Ronsard is also influenced by Ovid. And I believe that consideration of the Latin author sheds light on Ronsard's fragmentary epic. Ovid was deeply engrained in the Renaissance memory: he was often the first poet to be introduced to classes of schoolchildren. His Metamorphoses, which is most relevant to the study of La Franciade, was especially popular; isolated books were published for school use and extracts were studied in detail. [In her Ovid in Renaissance France, 1982] Ann Moss observes: 'The Metamorphoses has a major role in all the printed common-place books of the period. Indeed one almost suspects that it was better known to the average student in the form of extracts than as a continuous narrative. The sheer length of the work poses problems for the school timetable'. Ronsard has used in La Franciade many Ovidian echoes and some of the favourite set-pieces, notably the Cave of Sleep and the Den of Invidia (II, ll. 381-94, and III, ll. 1303-30). More importantly, however, I think that Ovid's rich assortment of tales held together by a slender narrative thread has influenced Ronsard's whole conception of the epic poem and has had a bearing on the pictorial nature of many of his images. Ovid has reinforced Ronsard's tendency to linger over individual episodes.

Reminiscent of the final book of the Metamorphoses, in which Pythagoras delivers a long speech describing a constant state of flux, are the last lines of Book IV of La Franciade, which represent a conclusion so definitive that it is difficult to see how Ronsard could have regained momentum. Hyante predicts the disappearance of Clovis's royal line and draws a moral lesson which reminds one of the beginning of that 1550 Ode de la Paix in which Ronsard had first elaborated on his epic undertaking. She warns:

N'espere rien au monde de certain:
"Ainsi que vent tout coule de la main:

Enfant d'Hector, tout se change et rechange:
Le temps nous fait, le temps mesme nous mange:
Princes et rois et leurs races s'en vont,
De leurs trespas les autres se refont.
Chose ne vit d'eternelle durée.
La vertu seule au monde est assurée!"
(ll. 1891-98)

The theme of metamorphosis and of the brevity of individual lives is a constant in Ronsard's thought. But implicit in this ending in particular is Ronsard's recognition that there will not be time enough for him to complete his vast canvas.

However much one disagrees with the strictures of many critics, one has to acknowledge that Ronsard achieved only a tiny portion of his epic aims. Yet in the fragmentation of La Franciade lie both its strengths and its weaknesses. Ronsard's talents are supremely suited to the episodic form, to the adornment of individual sections of mythological narrative. He pauses frequently to enrich the present moment with resonances from past and future and to complicate the narrative line via devices such as hypotyposis; 'd'une petite scintille' he makes 'un grand brazier'. His technique owes much, not only to the Homer and Virgil he so admired and discussed in his prefaces to La Franciade, but also to Apollonius, Valerius Flaccus and Ovid. La Franciade is probably best understood when considered in conjunction with Ronsard's shorter heroic poems, particularly the 'Hymne de Calaïs et de Zetes' and the Hymne de Pollux et de Castor which he wrote explicitly as a 'coup d'essay' in preparation for his large-scale epic. It is the product of an age that recognized the value of the vignette, as well as the virtues of integrality.