Marc-Antoine Muret Research Articles

The Erotics of Materialism: Lucretius and Early Modern Poetics by Jessie Hock

Reviewed by: The Erotics of Materialism: Lucretius and Early Modern Poetics by Jessie Hock Robert J. Hudson Jessie Hock, The Erotics of Materialism: Lucretius and Early Modern Poetics. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2021, 234 pp. In the face of the common assumption that Neoplatonist idealism constituted the de facto ideological framework behind the early modern lyric, with The Erotics of Materialism, Jessie Hock adeptly recasts Lucretian thought as a persuasive foundational system in the development of the era's poetics. Tracing the reception of De rerum natura from Pierre de Ronsard and the Pléiade in [End Page 180] late-Valois France to Lucy Hutchinson, Margaret Cavendish and the culture wars of interregnum England, Hock establishes a poetic lineage of Lucretian influence. With John Donne bridging the gap between national/linguistic traditions and the century's worth of poets she examines, Hock enables the reader, in light of the politics of the age, to reconsider Renaissance Petrarchism in terms of Lucretian simulacra and fantasy, then witness the atomist, female-led epistemological alternative to scientific inquiry, where fancy and the imagination are proffered over rational empiricism. Admittedly concerned with matters beyond the lyric, Hock still focuses primarily on close readings of canonical poets to demonstrate how Lucretius informed early modern poetics. One most notable and welcome extra-lyrical element she includes is the publication and popular reception history of Lucretius. Indeed, Hock's study opens with three provocative accounts—the drowning and suicide of two early modern Lucretius editors and Saint Jerome's sensational, apocryphal version of Lucretius's own lovesick suicide—which coalesce to present De rerum natura as a dangerous and scandalous text. Premodern Europe was ill-prepared to accept the perceived impious materialism and hedonistic atheism of Lucretius's brand of Epicurean thought, which led to humanistic anxiety and seduction surrounding the pagan poet. Thus, to frame her study, Hock borrows Lisa Robertson's articulation of Lucretian verse being a "supple snare," one that drew poets near and engaged their pens with its erotic flights. Seduction, after all, was at the heart of the design of De rerum natura, whose wormwood philosophy needed the honey-rimmed delivery method of poetry to entice and mystify readers. Still, far more than merely philosophy's handmaiden or an unwanted nuisance in Plato's ideal republic, poetry is as much a sweetening agent as it is a contiguous part of Lucretian thought. Perhaps ostensibly lured by Lucretius's wanton reputation, all the poets Hock explores ultimately subscribe to his materialist enterprise as a heuristic for their own poetics. In her five individual chapters on Ronsard, Rémy Belleau, Donne, Hutchinson and Cavendish, Hock emphasizes three primary passages from De rerum natura—namely, the incipit hymn to Venus, the honey/wormwood analogy and especially the end of Book 4, where the poet-philosopher expounds on passionate love—as these excerpts succinctly illustrate Lucretian erotics and are often reprised by her chosen poets. Ronsard, first in Hock's genealogy, disruptively introduces a Lucretian paradigm to Pléiade poetics, which seemed—then and now—inseparable from Ficinian Neoplatonism. Examining "Les petitz corps" from the 1552 Amours, Hock demonstrates the conflation of the [End Page 181] Lucretian and Petrarchan poetic idioms and how amorous simulacra is more germane to Petrarchan lyricism than is traditional idealism to account for both the poetic absence and sexual dissatisfaction in Ronsard. Likewise identifying dialogue between Lucretius's hymn to Venus and Ronsard's "Hynne de l'Autonne," Hock answers the longstanding frustrations of Simone Fraisse and responds to the excellent work of Philip Ford, decisively fleshing out examples of the Pléiade's engagement with Lucretius. Lest one assume Ronsard a Lucretian outlier in the imagined group of Parisian poets for whom he served as chef de file, Hock confirms that Marc-Antoine Muret knew De rerum natura well, recognizing its interplay in Ronsard's verse. In fact, her subsequent chapter shifts to the later Ronsard of the Sonnets pour Hélène (1578) alongside fellow Pléiade poet Belleau and his 1576 Pierres précieuses in order to demonstrate the former's multi-decade commitment to Lucretius and the attentive reading of De rerum natura of the latter...

“Nunc eo ingenio sum.” Philologie et écriture de soi dans les Variae lectiones de Marc-Antoine Muret

The collection Variae lectiones by Marc-Antoine Muret (1526-1585), which is part of the humanist tradition of miscellanea, is characterized by the prominent presence of the first person. This article proposes to study the relationship between philology and writing about oneself by examining the different kinds of ‟Iˮ used by Muret. Staking at the outset a claim to auctoritas, the ‟Iˮ of Variae lectiones refers above all to a scholarly and erudite persona, which the French humanist develops with the ambition of consolidating his personal reputation at a crucial period of his career in Italy. Finally, while writing as a philologist, Muret sometimes reveals himself through his readings of the Ancients, and hints at a more intimate ‟Iˮ which emerges in some accounts of episodes experienced.

Just Friends? Queering Male–Male Amity in Jean de Beaubreuil’s Regulus (1582)

ABSTRACT This article proposes a queer (re)reading of Jean de Beaubreuil’s Roman tragedy Regulus ([1582] 1999). The study begins with an exploration of the author’s trip to Rome and his visit with Marc-Antoine Muret, a renowned humanist who fled France in 1554 due to charges of heresy and sodomy. It then reads queerly two key passages from the play to suggest that the tragedy’s most strikingly queer elements include the intimate friendship formed between the main dramatis personae (Atilie and Manlie), their ritual of unity before battle that resembles a clandestine marriage ceremony, the mythological and historical references evoked during this ritual, and the replacement of Regulus’s legendary wife and children with Manlie. The article concludes with an analysis of the tensions between the hero’s public persona (Regulus) and private identity (Atilie), which invites the reader to reconsider the modalities of male–male amity in sixteenth-century France.

Mise en musique et mise en scène de la musique dans les noëls manceaux du xvie siècle (Samson Bedouin, Nicolas Denisot)

At the crossroads of poetry and music, the noel, very popular in France (notably in the western regions, such as Maine and Poitou) during the 16th century, can be defined as a kind of song celebrating the Nativity. The first part of this essay discusses noels as parodies of popular songs, whose melodies were transferred from the secular into the religious sphere, and highlights the presence of music, songs and dances in the texts themselves, which portray the life of communities during feast days, when forbidden pleasures (such as wine and plentiful meals) became available. The following parts focus on the representation of music in the works of two of the best-known noelistes of the French Renaissance, i.e. Samson Bedouin and Nicolas Denisot, both native of Maine, and on the melodies these two authors took inspiration from to compose their poems. More specifically, part three addresses the main critical problems concerning the music of Denisot’s Noelz and Cantiques du premier advenement de Jesu-Christ. The Noelz stick to the well-established practice of the contrafactum and use existing love songs as their source material, some of whom are yet to be identified. On the other hand, the Cantiques, a more ambitious kind of noel, use original music by an anonymous composer, who might be Marc-Antoine Muret, one of Denisot’s closest friends. This essay also discusses a verse paraphrase of the Ten Commandments and a «Cantique sur le pater noster», traditionally (but incorrectly) attributed to Denisot himself.

Caesar as Comic Antichrist: Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar and the Medieval English Stage Tyrant

Shakespeare's representation of Julius differs notably from those of his contemporaries, as well as from picture of that emerges from his most obvious classical source, Plutarch's Lives. Plutarch's is shrewd, resilient, and relatively dignified; Shakespeare's, in contrast, is physically weak and surprisingly obtuse, prey to laughable grandiosity. Other early modern authors such as Marc-Antoine Muret and William Alexander model their versions of on Seneca's Hercules as well as Plutarch's biography. Shakespeare, however, seems to draw inspiration for his departure from Plutarch from conventional depiction of Julius Caesar's successor Augustus, as well as other tyrants such as Herod Great, in medieval English mystery plays. Over course of these pageants depicting Christian salvation history, protagonists such as Moses and Isaac set up a typology of Christ. (1) Meanwhile, however, secular antagonists such as Pharaoh of Egypt establish a contrary pattern: a typology of Antichrist. Like Lucifer, as well as Antichrist himself, Caesar in mystery plays is typecast as a blustering, comically inadequate parody of Godhead. Vaunting speeches proclaiming his supreme worldly might echo language of God Father. These boasts are then belied, however, by his inability to forestall coming of Christ, whom he fears as a potential political rival. Mystery plays, naturally enough, tend to focus on Augustus emperor of Rome at time of Christ's Nativity. (2) Shakespeare's Julius however, stands in same medieval tradition. As a type of Antichrist, he is a foil for future Christ. His failure sets stage for a different and paradoxically more powerful Messiah. The Problem of Two Caesars In nineteenth century, Shakespeare's representation of as a self-important blowhard met with cries of critical dismay. (3) William Hazlitt complains, We do not much admire representation given here of Julius nor do we think answers to portrait of him in his commentaries. He makes several vapouring and rather pedantic speeches, and does nothing. (4) George Bernard Shaw is less restrained: It is impossible for even most judicially minded critic to look without a revulsion of indignant contempt at this travestying of a great man as a silly braggart. (5) James Boswell, son of famous biographer, saw problem as evidence of Shakespeare's proverbial small Latin and less Greek. (6) Citing Caesar's own Gallic Wars, Boswell writes, cannot be a stronger proof of Shakespeare's deficiency in classical knowledge, than boastful language he has put in mouth of most accomplished man of all antiquity, who was not more for his achievements, than for dignified simplicity with which he has recorded them. (7) By twentieth century, problem of Caesars was well-established. (8) G. Wilson Knight sums up dilemma: We are, indeed, aware of two Caesars: ailing and petulant old man, and giant spirit standing colossal over Roman Empire to be. There is an insubstantial, mirage-like uncertainty about this Caesar. How are we to see him? He is two incompatibles, shifting, interchanging. (9) In his commentary on Plutarch's Life of Julius Caesar, C. B. Pelling observes that Greek biographer seems to admire Caesar. Or at least, his portrait of is more studiously neutral than that of many other classical authors. (10) Suetonius, for instance, praises for his admirable moderation and clemency both in administration and as victor in civil war but concludes that the balance is tilted by his other actions and words, so that he is thought to have abused his power and to have been justly killed. (11) Plutarch, in contrast, ends with remarkable claim that nothing cruel or tyrannical sprang from [Caesars rule]. On contrary, he maintains, it seemed that state needed monarchy, and was Heaven's gift to Rome as gentlest possible doctor. …

Invectives in the Renaissance Scholarly Debates: Dialogue, Polemics, or Something Else?

Renaissance scholarly debates often look like personal invectives devoid of any real scientific content. The present paper examines this impression, considers several particular cases (Raffaele Reggio’s invectives against Johannes Calphurnius, Francesco Robortello’s polemics against Marc-Antoine Muret and Carlo Sigonio, Angelo Poliziano’s criticism of Domizio Calderini’s work) and proposes a more specified view on the problem.

Who is the ‘I’ in Early Modern Poetry? Marc-Antoine Muret on Poetic Action

Biographical 'decoders' are stock characters among the dramatis personae of recent literary polemic. Indeed, critics have often claimed that poetry-and in particular early modern verse-is in no way about first-person expression, but must always be understood solely through intertextuality, self-referentiality and imitatio ,4 The claim is attractive, although false, or so I shall argue here. 1 shall ask whether sixteenth-century texts-here, in particular, 'lyric' poems-can be understood as first-person actions of an indirect sort. To suggest that poetry can be taken as a type of action is not, however, to say that first-person poetry is the expression of a 'self' -whatever that might be-and certainly not that the 'I' of the poem and the 'I' of the author are always equivalent. Nor is it to suggest that all genres of poetry relate similarly to the first-person stance or to poetic action. Like medieval poetry, sixteenthcentury poetry is highly imitative. It is not governed by an ideal of self-expression that might well have been unintelligible to

Die Verwandlung der senecanischen Tragödie in Marc-Antoine Murets “Julius Caesar” und Jacques Grévins “César”

In 1547 Marc-Antoine Muret wroteJulius Caesar, the first tragedy by a French author with an exclusively historical plot. While imitating the dramatic structure of Seneca's tragedies, he fundamentally changed the nature of the tragic conflict, transferring it from the character of the tragic hero to the clash of two basically positive principles, monarchy and Republican liberty. Muret's Caesar does not plan a revengeful crime as the Senecan heroes did; he is rather the successful statesman, ready to die after having won the victory over the entire world, and his apotheosis is soon fulfilled by the gods. On the other side are the Republican heroes Brutus and Cassius who succeed in killing the tyrant Caesar. The chorus, however, interprets the events as results of the everlasting reversals of powers. Therefore there is no monarchic tendency to be found in Muret's drama, but the unending clash between political principles. In 1560 Jacques Grevin reworked the Latin tragedy of his master Muretus for the French stage, reinforcing the themes of political strife and inevitable change of power, while avoiding to glorify Caesar and monarchy. This was the period when—some years later—Michel de Montaigne would underline the two sides of Caesar, his genius and his destructive power, and when Etienne de la Boetie would criticize the actual state of slavery of the French people.

Marc-Antoine Muret: A Sixteenth-Century Classicist and His Work

Marc-Antoine Muret: A Sixteenth-Century Classicist and His Work

XII. Muret and the History of “Attic” Prose

It is doubtful whether any other great literary reputation of the Renaissance has survived in so ambiguous and confused a state as that of Marc-Antoine Muret, recognized in his own time and ever since as the best writer of Latin prose in the second half of the sixteenth century. The most important event in the history of literary ideas during that period was the controversy concerning the imitation of Cicero; and in that controversy and the various conflicts connected with it Muret was more or less engaged at all periods of his career. Yet modern literary history tells us nothing intelligible of his part in it; or, to speak more exactly, it records two conflicting statements. On the one hand, he appears as the associate of Bembo, Sadoleto, Longueil in the stricter sect of the Ciceronians, a more accomplished, and not less devoted, imitator of the master. This is certainly the commoner view among those who have any acquaintance with his name; for generations he has been held up to the admiration even of school-children as the modern Cicero. How confusing it is then to find that he also holds a conspicuous place in the sketches—few and inadequate—of the movement of opposition that finally triumphed at the end of his century over the great rhetorical scheme of education. From his letters and orations one or two passages have been cited which outdo the sarcasm of Erasmus' Ciceronianas and display a latitude of classical taste which even a modern critic cannot regard without dubiety.