not be divined. The unexplained or gratuitous vehemence of their gestures was the ruling feature of the Baroque, and above all of the Rococo statues.
The same departure from naturalness was manifested in the realm of fashion. Elaborateness was the order of the day. People were even dissatisfied with their own hair, and wigs made their appearance in order to add to the wearer’s dignity. Artificiality invaded the garden. Trees and shrubs were shaped into geometrical figures, triangular cor square, until the garden showed nothing but a continuation of the stiff lines of the buildings.
Poetry shared in the infection, and poets revelled in allegory, myth and metaphor. What they learned from their antique models they spoiled by exaggeration. The structure of the epic poem lost its noble harmony, because the poets drew its component parts in too sharp outlines. The mythological element became aggressively pompous, and yet the deities lacked dignity.
The new tendency may be discerned in Hungarian poetry, and a good illustration is provided by the Venus of Murány, written by the favourite poet of the period, Stephen Gyöngyösi (1625–1704). His subject is an incident of European fame. Although the story seems pure romance, it was based on an historical event which occurred in the year 1644. Francis Wesselényi, a general belonging to the imperial party, and afterwards the leader of the Wesselényi conspiracy, was attacking the strong fortress of Murány. The defender and captain of the fortress, which belonged to the national party, was Countess Maria Széchy, famous for her great beauty. In the course of the siege the two hostile leaders, captivated by each other’s fame and valour, fell in love, and Maria Széchy enabled the leader of the besiegers to
