Of Jodelle’s two tragedies, the _Cléopâtre_ possesses, though by no merit of his, the better plot. The story of the death of the Queen of Egypt is in itself so picturesque and so complete that it would be difficult to spoil it altogether. His second tragedy is rather better written. There is more force in the dialogue, more poetry in the moral reflections of the chorus of _Didon_; but then the plot is inevitably inferior. It is difficult indeed to see what could be done with the story of Dido and Æneas on the stage, unless the intention is to make the hero odious or ridiculous. It is true that Jodelle does not fail to attain to a comic effect, which is, however, too obviously undesigned. The last words he puts into the mouth of Æneas are-- “Pauvre Didon, hélas! mettras-tu l’assurance Sur les vaisseaux marins, que n’ont point de constance.” These are too like the sailor’s traditional excuse to be worthy of the son of Anchises, who at least had the grace to sail “multa gemens, magnoque animum labefactus amore.” It is but just to add that not dissimilar plunges into the ridiculous where what was called for was the sublime, might be found in the great, the truly great, Corneille. It must also be remembered that Jodelle established the Alexandrine as the metre of French tragedy, though he did not submit to the strict rules enforced in the next century. [SN: _Grévin and La Taille._] The names of Jacques Grévin and Jean de la Taille are entitled to little more than bare mention among the followers of Jodelle. Grevin (1540?-1570) was for a time a favourite with Ronsard; but he was a strong Calvinist, and broke with the Prince of Poets in resentment against the _Discours sur les Misères du Temps_. Ronsard retaliated by cancelling his praise of Grévin. One tragedy, _César_, and two comedies, _La Trésorière_ and _Les Esbahis_, all three written in his youth, still survive.[98] Jacques de la Taille (1540?-1608), a soldier, and in poetry a follower of Ronsard, lives in all literary histories by a piece of unjust ill-luck. He wrote the two famous lines at which everybody has laughed-- “Ma mère et mes enfans aye en recommanda ... Il ne put achever car la mort l’engarda (l’empêcha).” M. Suard, who habitually took a contemptuous tone to the early dramatists of his country, made the remark--a very fair example of the silly would-be clever--that La Taille found it easier to shorten his words than to lengthen his line. Yet such a stroke of mistaken realism as this is less essentially foolish than the flat absurdity which Jodelle puts into the mouth of Æneas. The attempt to be true to life was at least meritorious in intention, and there is force in La Taille’s tragedy of _Les Gabaonites_, on the story of the sons of Rizpah.[99] [SN: _Garnier._]