independent position which is the portion of orphans. His relations
wished him to follow the profession of the law: he consented, and,
applying himself with diligence, was named advocate at an early age.
[Sidenote: 1656.
Ætat.
20.]
But the chicanery, the tortuousness, and absurdity of the practice
speedily disgusted him, formed as he was by nature to detect and expose
error; so that, in the very first cause entrusted to him, he showed so
much disgust, that the attorney (who probably was aware that such
existed), fancying that he had discovered some irregularity in his
proceedings, said, on withdrawing his brief, "Ce jeune avocat ira loin."
Boileau, on the contrary, was only eager to throw off the burden of a
profession so little suited to him; and he quitted the bar for the study
of ecclesiastical polity, fancying that religion would purify and
elevate the practice of the church. He was soon undeceived; and was
shocked and astonished by the barbarous language, the narrow scholastic
speculations, and polemical spirit, of the sorbonne. He found that
chicanery had but changed its garb; and, unwilling to debase his mind by
such studies, he gave them up, and dedicated himself entirely to
literature. Led by his inborn genius, he boldly entered on the career of
letters and poetry, in spite of the warnings of his family[79], for his
patrimony, consisting only of a few thousand crowns, seemed to render it
imperative that he should follow a gainful profession. His desires,
however, were moderate; and he contrived to limit his expenses to his
slender income.
Literature and knowledge were at a low ebb in France when Louis XIV.
began to reign. The genius of the people had, previously to Corneille,
displayed itself in no great national poem. Its instincts for poetry,
owing, perhaps, to the faulty nature of the language, had confined
itself to songs and ballads, inimitable for a certain charming elegant
simplicity, but with no pretension to the praise due to a high order of
imagination. Corneille, in his majesty and power, stood alone. Then had
come Molière, who detected and held up to ridicule the false taste of
the age. Yet, in spite of his attacks, this false taste in part
subsisted; and there were several of the favourite authors of the day
whose works excited Boileau's spleen, and roused him to the task of
satire. Chapelain may be mentioned as the chief among them. Jean
Chapelain was a Parisian, and a member of the French academy. He was
much patronised by the minister Colbert; and, under his auspices, the
king not only granted him a pension, but entrusted to his care the
making out a list of the chief literary men of Europe, towards whom
Louis, in a spirit of just munificence, inspired by Colbert, allowed
pensions, in token that their labours deserved assistance or reward.
Jean Chapelain, an upright, a clever, and a generous man, was thus
exalted to the head of the republic of letters; and was seduced by the
voice of praise to write a poem on the subject of the Maid of Orleans.
The topic was popular: while in progress. Chapelain enjoyed an
anticipated reputation on the strength of it; and the duke de Longueville
allowed him a pension; but as soon as the "Pucelle" was published,
which rash act he did not venture on for a number of years, his fame as
a poet fell to the ground; epigrams rained on the unfortunate epic, and
Boileau brought up the rear with pointed well-turned sarcasms. As the
friend of Colbert, as an amiable man of acknowledged talents. Chapelain
had many partisans. The duke de Montauzier[80], a satirist himself in
his youth, was furious, and declared that Boileau ought to be tossed
into the river, that he might rhyme there. Other friends of Chapelain
remonstrated; but their representations turned to the amusement of the
satirist. "Chapelain is my friend," said the abbé de la Victoire, "and
I grieve that you have named him in your satires. It is true, if he
followed my advice, he would not write poetry; prose suits him much
better."--"And what more do I say?" cried Boileau: "I repeat in verse
what every one else says in prose: I am, in truth, the secretary of the
public."[81]
As such the public joyfully accepted him. He became the favourite guest
of the best society in Paris, where genius and wit were honoured. Joined
to his faculty of writing satires, whose every word was as a gem set in
gold, Boileau read his verses well, and possessed the talent of mimicry,
which added greatly to the zest of his recitations. Chapelain, Cotin,
and the poetasters whom he lashed, passed thus, as it were, in living
array before his audience; and the enjoyment he created naturally led to
a popularity, which, as it was bestowed by the well-born, the beautiful,
and the rich, spread a halo of prosperity round the poet's steps.
Boileau, however, has not escaped censure for his personal attacks. It
was considered a defilement of the elevated spirit of poetical satire to
attack persons; and, though Boileau only lashed these men as authors,
their blameless private characters made many recoil from seeing their
names held up to ridicule. Not only his contemporaries, but later
writers, have blamed him.[82] He has even been accused of acting from
base motives. That Chapelain, when he made a list for Colbert of
literary men deserving of pensions, did not include Boileau's name is
supposed to be the occasion of his enmity. But the dislike seems to have
had foundation earlier; for we are told that the first satire was
composed when the poet was only four-and-twenty, and had no pretensions
to be pensioned for unwritten works, and, indeed, before the pensions in
question were granted.[83] Some ill blood might have arisen through a
quarrel between Boileau and his elder brother Giles, who was a friend of
Chapelain. This circumstance rendered him, perhaps, more willing to
attack the latter; but, doubtless, his ruling motive was his hatred of a
bad book, and his natural genius, which directed the scope of his
labours.
Boileau himself carefully distinguishes between attacks made on authors
and on individuals; and, _à propos_, of his ridicule of Chapelain, he
says,
"En blamant ses écrits, ai-je d'un style affreux
Distilé sur sa vie un venin dangereux?
Ma muse en l'attaquant, charitable et discrete,
Scait de l'homme d'honneur distinguer le poète."[84]
Still he whimsically gives, as it were, the lie to this very defence by
his subsequent conduct; for, when any one of the unhappy authors whom he
had held up to ridicule showed him personal kindness, he was not proof
against the impulse that led him to expunge his name in the next edition
of his works, and substitute that of some new-sprung enemy. Thus in the
seventh satire we find the following persons strung together:--
"Faut-il d'un froid Rimeur dépeindre la manie?
Mes vers, comme un torrent, coulent sur le papier,
Je rencontre à la fois Perrin et Pelletier,
Bardou, Mauroy, Boursault, Colletet, Titreville."
He afterwards altered the last verse to
"Bonnecorse, Pradon, Colletet, Titreville."
Perrin had translated the Æneid into French; and was the first person
who obtained leave to introduce the Italian opera into France. Pelletier
was a sort of itinerant rhymester, who, when he addressed a sonnet to a
man, carried it to him, and contrived to get paid for his pains. Bardou
and Mauroy were minor poets, whose nonsense appeared in ephemeral
collections of verses. Boursault was more distinguished. He quarrelled
with Molière, and endeavoured to satirise him in a slight drama,
entitled "Portrait du Peintre, ou, contre Critique de l'École des
Femmes." Molière showed himself very indifferent to this sort of
attack; but Boileau took up the cudgels for him. Boursault revenged
himself by another drama, levelled against Boileau himself, called
"Satire des Satires;" and the latter, with a sensitiveness in which he
had no right to indulge, got a decree of parliament to prevent its
representation. Many years after, when Boileau was at the baths of
Bourbon for his health, and Boursault was _receveur des termes_ at Mont
Luçon, a town not far distant, Boileau writes to Racine, "M. Boursault,
whom I thought dead, came to see me five or six days ago, and made his
appearance again unexpectedly this evening. He told me he had come three
long leagues out of his way to Mont Luçon, whither he was bound, and
where he lives, to have the pleasure of calling on me. He offered me all
sorts of things--money, horses, &c. I replied by similar civilities, and
wished to keep him till to-morrow to dinner; but he said he was obliged
to go away early in the morning, and we separated the best possible
friends." Racine says, in reply, "I am pleased by the civilities you
have received from Boursault; you are advancing towards perfection at a
prodigious pace; how many people you have pardoned." Boileau replies, "I
laughed heartily at the joke you make of the people I have pardoned; but
do you know that I have more merit than you imagine, if the Italian
proverb be true, _chi offende non perdona._" About this time Pradon and
Bonnecorse attacked him; and he took occasion, in a new edition of his
works, to substitute their names for those of the persons with whom he
was now reconciled.
To return to his younger days: wit, high and convivial spirits, and his
acknowledged and popular talents, gained him the favour of the great.
The great Condé was his especial protector; and he changed many
expressions in his poems, and even altered them materially, at his
suggestion. The great Coudé often assembled literary men at Chantilly;
and he liked this society far better than that of people of rank. One
day, when Racine and Boileau were with him, the arrival of some bishop
was announced, as having come to view his palace and grounds. "Show him
every thing," said the prince impatiently, "except myself." This prince
often discussed literary topics with his guests. When he was in the
right, he argued with moderation and gentleness; when in the wrong, he
grew angry if contradicted: his eyes sparkled with a fire that even
intimidated Boileau, who yielded at once, remarking, at the same time,
to his neighbour, "Henceforth I shall always agree with the prince when
he is in the wrong."
The First President Lamoignon also honoured him with his intimate
friendship; and Arnaud and Nicole, churchmen distinguished for their
virtues and talents, were among his dearest and most revered friends.
But, besides these, he had intimates of his own station, of not less
genius than himself; authors, yet without rivalship, who enjoyed the
zest given by each other's wit in society; to whom he was strongly
attached, and with whom, in the heyday of life, he played many a prank,
and spent long hours of social enjoyment. Racine, La Fontaine, Molière,
and Chapelle[85] were among these. Many anecdotes are told concerning
them, which makes us the more regret that no faithful Boswell was near
to glean more amply. The "Boileana," which pretended to record their
wit, is by no means authentic. Louis Racine, in his valuable life of his
father, has given us one or two; from these--the shadow rather than the
light of wit--marking its place rather than displaying its form--we
select a few.
This knot of friends frequently dined at a celebrated _traiteur's_, or
at one another's houses; in particular, at Molière's and Boileau's
country houses at Auteuil. The conversation on these occasions was
brilliant; and, did a silly remark escape from any among them, a fine
was immediately levied. Chapelain's poem of the "Pucelle" was on the
table, and, according to the quality of the fault, the accused was
adjudged to read a certain number of lines from this poem: twenty lines
was a heavy punishment; a whole page was considered equivalent to a
sentence of death.
The famous supper, when the whole company resolved to drown themselves,
has been related in the life of Molière. Buoyant spirits, unchecked by
age or sorrow, inspired a thousand freaks, which were put in execution
on the spur of the minute. At one time the university of Paris was going
to present a petition to parliament to desire that the philosophy of
Descartes should not be taught in the schools. This was mentioned before
the First President Lamoignon, who said that, if the petition were
presented, the decree could not be refused. Boileau, amused by the idea,
wrote a burlesque decree, which he got up in common with Racine, and his
nephew added the legal terms, and carried it, together with several
other papers, to be signed by the president. Lamoignon was on the point
of putting his name, when, casting his eyes over it, he exclaimed, "This
is a trick of Despréaux!" The burlesque petition became known, and the
university gave up the notion of presenting a serious one.
Meanwhile, flattered and courted by the great, and beloved by his
friends, Boileau long abstained from publishing those satires which had
gained him so much popularity. Many of his verses had passed into
proverbs from their appositeness and felicity of expression[86]; and
those who heard him recite were eager to learn them by heart, and repeat
them to others. Becoming thus the universal subject of
conversation,--listened to with delight, repeated with enthusiasm,--the
booksellers laid hold of mutilated copies, and printed them. The
sensitive ear of the author was shocked by the mistakes that crept in,
the result of this loose mode of publication, and he at last resolved to
bring them out himself.
[Sidenote: 1666.
Ætat.
30.]
He published seven satires, preceded by an address to the king, which,
however full of praise, could hardly be called flattery, since it echoed
the voice of the whole French nation, and had been fairly earned by the
sovereign. Louis then appeared in the brilliant position of a young
monarch labouring for the prosperity and glory of his people. Cardinal
Richelieu and cardinal Mazarin had disgusted the French with favourites
and prime ministers. Louis was his own minister; unwearied in his
application to business, and never suffering his pleasures to seduce him
to idleness. These very pleasures, conducted with magnificence and good
taste, dazzled and fascinated his subjects. He established his influence
in foreign countries, forcing them to acknowledge his superiority. He
aided Austria against the Turks; succoured Portugal; protected Holland:
and while, with some arrogance, but more real greatness, he thus rose
the sun of the world, he studied to make his court the centre of
civilisation and knowledge. Such a course might well deserve the praises
Boileau bestowed, who was also influenced by Colbert to give such a turn
to his address as would lead the mind of the active and ardent sovereign
to take delight in the blessings of peace, instead of the false glories
of war. The first edition was also preceded by a preface, in which he
apologises for the publication, to which he was solely urged by the
disfigurement of his poems as they were then printed. He bids the
authors whom he criticises remember that Parnassus was at all times a
free country; and that, if he attacked their works, they might revenge
themselves by criticising his; and to reflect that, if their productions
were bad, they deserved censure; if good, nothing said in their
dispraise would injure them.
In vain he tried to propitiate authors; and it must be acknowledged
that, though some might be found candid enough to admit the truth of his
strictures, no man could be pleased at being the mark for ridicule. The
outcry was prodigious, and he endeavoured to appease it, and justify
himself, in his ninth satire, addressed to his understanding '("à son
esprit:" the word thus used is very untranslatable; in former times the
term wit had very much the same signification).
[Sidenote: 1667.
Ætat.
31.]
About the same time he published his eighth satire on man, while he
still kept the ninth in manuscript. The king read the eighth, and
admired it exceedingly. M. de Saint Maurice, an officer of the king's
guard, who had a frequent opportunity of approaching the monarch, as he
was teaching him to shoot flying, observed that Boileau had written a
still better satire, in which there was mention of his majesty. "Mention
of me!" cried the king haughtily. "Yes, sire," replied Saint Maurice,
"and he speaks with all due respect." Louis showed a desire to see this
new production; and Boileau gave a copy of it to his friend on condition
that he showed it only to the king. Louis was much pleased: it became
known at court, copies got abroad, and the poet found it necessary to
publish it.
This was the period of his life when Boileau was fullest of energy and
invention; and his industry equalled the fecundity of his wit. He
himself used in after days to call it his _bon temps_, and alluded to it
at once with pride and regret. He wrote several of his epistles, his
"Art Poétique," and the "Lutrin." Having in his satires held up to
ridicule the prevalent faults of the literature of his time, he turned
his thoughts to giving rules of taste, and was desirous of pointing out
the right path for authors to pursue. He mentioned his design to M.
Patin, who doubted the possibility of adapting such a subject to French
verse. In this he mistook the genius of his language. Narrow as are the
powers of French verse, which was then, indeed, in its infancy, it was,
under the master hand of Boileau, admirably fitted for pointed epigrams
and sententious maxims. He felt this; and, notwithstanding his friend's
counsels, he began his "Art Poétique;" and, carrying a portion of it to
his adviser, M. Patin at once acknowledged his mistake, and exhorted him
to proceed.
At the same time he was employed on the "Lutrin;" a poem in which he
displayed more fancy and sportive wit than he had before exhibited. It
is not so graceful nor so airy as "The Rape of the Lock[87];" but it is
more witty, and abounds with those happy lines, many of which have
passed into proverbs, while others concentrate, as it were, a whole
comedy into a few lines.
The idea of the "Lutrin" was suggested in conversation. Some friends of
the author were disputing concerning epic poetry, and Boileau maintained
the opinion advanced in his "Poetics," that an heroic poem ought to have
but a slender groundwork, and that its excellence depended on the power
of its inventor to sustain and enlarge the original theme. The argument
grew warm; but no one was convinced, and the conversation changed. It
turned upon a ridiculous dispute between the treasurer and chanter of
the Chapelle Royale of Paris, concerning the placing of a reading desk
(_Lutrin_).[88] M. de Lamoignon, the revered and excellent friend of
Boileau, turned to him, and asked whether an heroic poem could be
written on such a subject. "Why not?" was the reply: the company
laughed; but Boileau, excited to think on the subject, found the
burlesque of it open upon him. The spirited opening is the happiest
effort of his muse; and, when he showed it to M. de Lamoignon, he was
encouraged to proceed. At first he limited the poem to four cantos,
which are the best; for, as is usually the case with burlesque, it
becomes heavy and tedious as it is long drawn out. The first and second
cantos are, indeed, far superior to the remainder. The wit has that
pleasantry whose point is sharp, and yet without sting; so that even
those attacked can smile. The poem begins with an exordium that at once
opens the subject:--
"Je chante les combats, et ce Prélat terrible,
Qui par ses longs travaux, et sa force invincible,
Dans une illustre Eglise exerçant son grand cœur,
Fit placer à la fin un Lutrin dans le chœur.
C'est en vain que le Chantre abusant d'un faux titre,
Deux fois l'en fit ôter par les mains du chapitre;
Ce Prélat sur le banc de son rival altier,
Deux fois le reportant, l'en couvrit tout entier."
It goes on to describe the peace and prosperity enjoyed by the Sainte
Chapelle at Paris[89]:--
"Parmi les doux plaisirs d'une paix fraternelle,
Paris voyoit fleurir son antique chapelle.
Les chanoines vermeils et brillant de santé
S'engraissoient d'une longue et sainte oisiveté.
Sans sortir de leurs lits, plus doux que leurs hermines,
Ces pieux fainéans faisoient chanter matines;
Veilloient à bien diner, and laissoient en leur lieu,
A des chantres gagés le soin de louer Dieu."
Discord witnesses their repose with indignation:--
"Quand la Discorde, encore toute noire de crimes,
Sortant des Cordeliers pour aller aux Minimes;
Avec cet air hideux qui fait frémir la paix.
S'arrêta près d'un arbre, au pié de son palais.
Là, d'un œil attentif contemplant son empire
A l'aspect du tumulte elle-même s'admire."
But, finding that the chapter of the Holy Chapel is impervious to her
influence, her anger is roused; and, taking the form of an old chanter,
she visits the treasurer, a bishop, resolved to excite him to strife.
The description of the prelate, who, supported by a breakfast, dozed
till dinner, is full of wit:--
"Dans le réduit d'une alcove enfonçée.
S'élève un lit de plume à grands frais amassée,
Quatre rideaux pompeux, par un double contour,
En defendant l'entrée à la clarté du jour.
Là, parmi les douceurs d'un tranquille silence,
Règne sur le duvet une heureuse indolence.
C'est là que le Prélat, muni d'un déjeûner,
Dormant d'un léger somme, attendait le diner.
La jeunesse en sa fleur brille sur son visage,
Son menton sur son sein descend à double étage;
Et son corps ramassé dans sa courte grosseur,
Fait gémir les coussins sous sa molle épaisseur."
Discord enters, and addresses herself to the work of mischief:--
"La déesse en entrant, qui voit la nappe mise,
Admire un si bel ordre, et reconnoit l'église;
Et marchant à grands pas vers le lieu de repos.
Au Prélat sommeillant elle addresse ces mots:
'Tu dors, Prélat, tu dors? et là-haut à ta place,
Le chantre aux yeux du chœur étale son audace:
Chante les _oremus_, fait des processions,
Et répand à grands flots les bénédictions.
Tu dors? attens tu donc que, sans bulle et sans titre,
Il te ravisse encore le rochet et le mitre?
Sors de ce lit oiseux, qui les tient attaché
Et renonce au repos, ou bien à l'évêché."
This exhortation has its full effect: the prelate rises, full of wrath
and resolution, and even talks of assembling the chapter before dinner.
Gilotin, his faithful almoner, remonstrates successfully against this
piece of heroism:--
"Quelle fureur, dit-il, quel aveugle caprice,
Quand le diner est prêt, vous appelle à l'office?
De votre dignité soutenez mieux l'éclat:
Est-ce pour travailler que vous etes prélat?
A quoi bon ce dégoût et ce zèle inutile;
Est-il donc pour jeûner quatre-temps ou vigile?
Reprenez vos esprits, et souvenez-vous bien,
Qu'un diner réchauffe ne valut jamais rien.
Ainsi dit Gilotin, et ce ministre sage
Sur table, au même instant, fait servir le potage.
Le Prélat voit la soupe, et plein d'un saint respect,
Demeure quelque temps muet à cet aspect.
Il cède--il dine enfin."
The chapter is afterwards assembled; the bishop, in tears, complains of
the presumption of the chanter; when Sidrac, the Nestor of the chapter,
suggests a means of humbling him; and a description of the famous
reading-desk is introduced:--
"Vers cet endroit du chœur où le chantre orgueilleux,
Montre, assis à ta gauche, un front si sourcilleux;
Sur ce rang d'ais serrés qui forment sa cléture,
Fut jadis un lutrin d'inégale structure,
Donc les flancs élargis, de leur vaste contour
Ombragoient pleinement tous les lieux d'alentour.
Derrière ce lutrin, ainsi qu'au fond d'un autre,
A peine sur son banc, on discernait le chantre.
Tandis qu'à l'autre banc le Prélat radieux,
Découvert à grand jour, attiroit tous les yeux.
Mais un démon, fatal à cette ample machine,
Soit qu'une main la nuit à hâté sa ruine,
Soit qu'ainsi de tout terns l'ordonnât le destin,
Fit tomber à nos yeux le pulpitre un matin.
J'eus beau prendre le ciel et le chantre à partie:
Il fallut l'emporter dans notre sacristie,
Où depuis trente hyvers sans gloire enséveli,
Il languit tout poudreux dans un honteux oubli.
Entends-moi donc, Prélat, des que l'ombre tranquille
Viendra d'un crêpe noir envelopper la ville,
Il faut que trois de nous, sans tumulte et sans bruit,
Partent à la faveur de la naissante nuit;
Et du lutrin rompu réunissant la masse,
Aillent d'un zèle adroit le remettre à sa place.
Si le chantre demain ose le renverser,
Alors de cent arrêts tu peux le terrasser.
Pour soutenir tes droits, que le ciel autorise,
Abîme tout plutôt, c'est l'esprit de l'église.
C'est par là qu'un prélat signale la vigueur.
Ne borne pas ta gloire à prier dans le chœur:
Ces vertus dans Aleth peuvent être en usage,
Mais dans Paris, plaidons: c'est-là notre partage."