ccupation while cure of Lestinnes; it is a record of events from
1325 to the death of Edward III., and its brilliant narrative of events
still recent or contemporary insured its popularity with
aristocratic readers. Under the influence of Queen Philippa's
brother-in-law, Robert of Namur, it is English in its sympathies and
admirations. Unhappily Froissart was afterwards moved by his patron,
Gui de Blois, to rehandle the book in the French interest; and once
again in his old age his work was recast with a view to effacing the
large debt which he owed to his predecessor, Jean le Bel. The first
redaction is, however, that which won and retained the general favour.
If his patron induced Froissart to wrong his earlier work, he made
amends, for it is to Gui de Blois that we owe the last three books
of the history, which bring the tale of events down to the
assassination of Richard II. Still the cure of Lestinnes and the canon
of Chimai pursued his early method of travel--to the court of Gaston,
Count of Foix, to Flanders, to England--ever eager in his
interrogation of witnesses. It is believed that he lived to the close
of 1404, but the date of his death is uncertain.

Froissart as a poet wrote gracefully in the conventional modes of
his time. His vast romance _Meliador_, to which Wenceslas, Duke of
Brabant, contributed the lyric part--famous in its day, long lost
and recently recovered--is a construction of external marvels and
splendours which lacks the inner life of imaginative faith. But as
a brilliant scene-painter Froissart the chronicler is unsurpassed.
His chronology, even his topography, cannot be trusted as exact; he
is credulous rather than critical; he does not always test or control
the statements of his informants; he is misled by their prejudices
and passions; he views all things from the aristocratic standpoint;
the life of the common people does not interest him; he has no sense
of their wrongs, and little pity for their sufferings; he does not
study the deeper causes of events; he is almost incapable of
reflection; he has little historical sagacity; he accepts
appearances without caring to interpret their meanings. But what a
vivid picture he presents of the external aspects of fourteenth-century
life! What a joy he has in adventure! What an eye for the picturesque!
What movement, what colour! What a dramatic--or should we say
theatrical?--feeling for life and action! Much, indeed, of the
vividness of Frois