It is, however, in the Commentary on Desportes,[299] and there only, that we have the real Malherbe at first hand for our purpose. [Sidenote: _The_ Commentary on Desportes.] It is a very remarkable piece, and the first of the kind in modern times;[300] though Gellius and Macrobius no doubt set a certain pattern for it in ancient. Nor am I acquainted with anything more thorough in the particular species; the modern Zoilus, as a rule, is equally inferior to Malherbe in thoroughness, acuteness, and learning. More than 200 pages—a large page and a small type—are occupied in M. Lalanne’s edition (the only one) with the citations and remarks, the former being rigidly confined to the line or two (rarely more) that Malherbe annotated. It would be almost worth while to reprint[301] the original volume as it exists scored by the critic’s hand, and I do not know that it would be at all unfair to Desportes; for it is not the author who comes worst out of the exposure. ----- Footnote 300: There are things of Castelvetro’s in the _Opere Varie_ not wholly dissimilar; but these were then unpublished. Footnote 301: I have sometimes wondered whether the fact that, according to the Racan-Tallemant anecdote, Malherbe only “struck through” his copy of Ronsard without annotating it, is not an involuntary testimony to the Prince of Poets. Malherbe, for all his rancour and narrowness, was no fool; and he must in his mind have anticipated a famous later sentence about the eagle floating “Beyond the arrows, shouts, and views of men.” Desportes is not exactly an eagle, and Malherbe has better game with him, but still not the best of the game. ----- Whatever may be said against Malherbe, he cannot be accused of verbiage. He constantly contents himself with a single word—_bourre_ (“padding”), _cheville_ (“expletive”), or simply _note_ or _nota_, which expresses, much more forcibly, the “Will the reader believe,” or “It will hardly be credited” of our less succinct Aristarchs. It is curious how sensitive Malherbe’s ear is to certain suggestions of real or fancied cacophony, or absurdity, in juxtaposition of different words. There is no doubt that the French habit of delivering verse in a sort of recitative or singsong, running the syllables very much together, putting strong emphasis on certain vowels and slurring others, makes things like the famous “vaincu Loth” and “vingt culottes,” “vieillard stupide” and “vieil as de pique” less of mere childishness with them than with us. Malherbe seems to have a perfect obsession of this kind, especially in the direction of alliterated syllables. Thus he annotates the harmless line— “Si la foi plus certaine en une âme non feinte”— _n’en, nu, n’a_; and, still more in the style of the two later jokes— “Mais vous, belle tyranne, aux Nérons comparable”— _Tira nos nez_!