dedicated his life to the instruction and improvement of the people of
his diocese. We are a little astonished at the freedom with which
Boileau rallies the clergy. At this period, when the quarrels of the
jesuits and jansenists were dividing and convulsing the French church,
the sarcasms of Boileau must have had a deep, perhaps a salutary,
effect. The priesthood was enraged, and denounced the "Lutrin" as
blasphemous; but the whole laity, with the king at their head, enjoyed
the wit, and acknowledged its appositeness.
To return to the story of the poem. The advice of Sidrac is eagerly
adopted. They draw lots, and three are thus selected for the task.
Brontin comes first; then L'Amour, a hairdresser, a new Adonis with a
blond wig, only care of Anne his wife, so haughty of mien that he is the
terror of his neighbourhood; lastly, the name of Boirude, the sacristan,
is drawn. This choice satisfies the chapter, and the first canto ends
with the notice, that
"Le Prélat, resté seul, calme une peu son dépit.
Et jusqu'au souper se couche et s'assoupit."
The second book commences with a description of Renown, imitated from
Virgil's Fame, who reveals the wigmaker's purpose to his wife, and a
scene of remonstrance ensues and reproach, parodied on the parting of
Æneas and Dido. The portions of the poem which are parodies on the
ancient epics are full of wit; but they are less amusing than those
passages already cited, in which the poet gives scope to his fancy,
unshackled by imitation of what indeed is inimitable. We are, therefore,
less amused by the quarrel of the wigmaker and his wife than with the
conclusion of the second book; when Discord marks the progress of the
three adventurers towards the tower where the _Lutrin_ is hid, and shout
forth so joyously as to awaken Indolence. The description of Indolence
contains, perhaps, the best verses that Boileau ever wrote:--
"L'air qui gémit du cri de l'horrible déesse,
Va jusques dans Citeaux[90] réveiller la Mollesse.
C'est là qu'en un dortoir elle fait son séjour.
Les Plaisirs nonchalans folâtrent à l'entour.
L'un paîtrit dans un coin l'embonpoint des chanoines,
D'autre broyé en riant le vermillon des moines;
La Volupté la sert avec des yeux dévots,
Et toujours le Sommeil lui verse des pavots.
Ce soir plus que jamais, en vain il les redouble,
La Mollesse à ce bruit se réveille, se trouble."
Night enters, and frightens her still more with the recital of how, on
the morrow, the _Lutrin_ was to appear in the Sainte Chapelle, and
excite mutiny and war. Indolence, troubled by this account, lets fall a
tear, and, opening an eye, complains in a feeble and interrupted
voice:--
"O Nuit, que m'as tu dit? Quel démon sur la terre
Souffle dans tous les cœurs la fatigue et la guerre?
Hélas! qu'est devenu ce temps, cet heureux temps,
Où les rois s'honoraient du nom de fainéans,
S'endormoient sur le trône, et me servant sans honte,
Laissoient leur sceptre aux mains ou d'un maire ou d'un comte.
Aucun soin n'approchait de leur paisible cour,
On reposait la nuit, on dormait tout le jour.
* * * * *
Ce doux siècle n'est plus! le ciel impitoyable,
A placé sur le trône un prince infatigable.
Il brave mes douceurs, il est sourd à ma voix.
Tous les jours il m'éveille au bruit de ses exploits;
Rien ne peut arrêter sa vigilante audace,
L'été n'a point de feux, l'hyver n'a point de glace.
J'entens à son seul nom mes sujets frémir
En vain deux fois la Paix a voulu l'endormir:
Loin de moi son courage, entraîné par la gloire,
Ne se plait qu'à courir de victoire en victoire."[91]
This passage is remarkable as being the cause of Boileau's first
appearance at court, of which further mention will be made. This episode
is the jewel of the whole poem. Burlesque becomes tiresome when long
drawn: though there are verses interspersed throughout full of sarcasm
the most pointed, and ridicule the most happy, we are fatigued by a sort
of monotony of tone, and the unvarying spirit of parody or irony that
reigns throughout. The third canto is taken up by the enterprise of the
three, who enter the sacristy to seize upon the _Lutrin_. Night has
brought an owl, and hid it in the desk, whose sudden appearance
terrifies the heroes, who are about to fly, till Discord rallies them,
and they pursue the adventure, carry the desk in triumph, and place it
in its ancient place before the seat of the chanter. The book concludes
with an address to the latter, apostrophising the grief that will seize
him when, on the morrow, the insult will be revealed. The fourth book
contains the discovery--the rage of the chanter--his resolution to
destroy the desk--the assembling of the chapter--their indignation--and
it concludes with the destruction of the _Lutrin_, and its being carried
off piecemeal. At first the poem consisted only of these four books.
Boileau announced, that "reasons of great importance prevented his
publishing the whole;" but the fact was, that only four books were at
that time written. The fifth book describes the meeting of the inimical
parties, and a battle that ensued. Both prelate and chanter, rushing to
the _chapelle_, encounter each other, near the shop of Barbin, a
bookseller: they eye each other with fury, till a partisan of the
chanter, unable to suppress his rage, seizes a ponderous volume--the
"Great Cyrus" of mademoiselle Scuderi--hurls it at Boirude, who avoids
the blow, and the vast mass assails poor Sidrac: the old man, "accablé
de l'horrible Artamène," falls, breathless, at the feet of the bishop.
This is a signal for a general attack: they rush into the shop,
disfurnish the shelves, and hurl the volumes at one another. In naming
the books thus used, Boileau indulges in satirical allusions to
contemporary authors, and exclaims:--
"O! que d'écrits obscurs, de livres ignorés.
Furent en ce grand jour de la poudre tirés."
And then follows the names of many now so entirely forgotten, that the
point of his sarcasms escapes us. The party of the chanter is on the
point of being victorious, till the bishop, by a happy stratagem,
contrives to escape the danger:--
"Au spectacle étonnant de leur chute imprévue,
Le Prélat pousse un cri qui pénètre la nue.
Il maudit dans son cœur le démon des combats,
Et de l'horreur du coup il recule six pas.
Mais bientôt rappelant son antique prouesse,
Il tire du manteau sa dextre vengeresse;
Il part, et ses doigts saintement alongés,
Bénit tous les passans en deux fils rangés.
Il scait que l'ennemi, que ce coup va surprendre,
Désormais sur ses piés ne l'oseroit l'attendre,
Et déjà voit pour lui tout le peuple en courroux.
Crier aux combattans: Profanes, à genoux.
Le chantre, qui de loin voit approcher l'orage,
Dans son cœur éperdu cherche en vain du courage.
Sa fierté l'abandonne, il tremble, il cède, il fuit;
Le long des sacrés murs sa brigade le suit.
Tout s'écarte à l'instant, mais aucun n'en réchappe,
Partout le doigt vainqueur les suit et les ratrappe.
Evrard seul, en un coin prudemment retiré,
Se croyoit à couvert de l'insulte sacré.
Mais le Prélat vers lui fait une marche adroite:
Il observe de l'œil, et tirant vers la droite,
Tout d'un coup tourne à gauche, et d'un bras fortuné,
Bénit subitement le guerrier consterné.
Le chanoine, surpris de la foudre mortelle,
Se dresse, et lève en vain une tète rebelle:
Sur ses genoux tremblans il tombe à cet aspect,
Et donne à la frayeur ce qu'il doit au respect."
Nothing can be more humorous than this description. The bishop
conferring his blessing in a spirit of vengeance, and his angry enemies
forced, unwillingly, to be blessed, is truly ludicrous. Yet here Boileau
laid himself open to attack. In the remainder of the poem, while
ridiculing the clergy, no word escaped him that treated sacred things
jocosely, and he was too pious indeed not to have shrunk from so doing.
This joke made of a bishop's blessing intrenched on this rule: priests,
who hitherto had remained silent, now ventured to raise the cry of
blasphemy. However, it was innocuous: the excellent character and real
piety of Boileau sheltered him from the attacks so levelled. The sixth
book recounts the arrival of Piety, and Faith, and Grace, who awaken
Aristus (the First President Lamoignon, to whom, he having died in the
interval between the publishing the commencement of the poem and its
conclusion, Boileau paid this tribute of respect), and, through his
mediation, peace is restored.
We have given this detail of the "Lutrin," as being at once the best and
the most successful of Boileau's poems. We now return to the author. We
have alluded to his presentation at court, occasioned by the eulogy of
Louis XIV., which the poet puts in the mouth of Indolence. Madame de
Thianges, sister of madame de Montespan, was so struck by this passage,
that, while the poem was still in manuscript, she read it to the king;
and he, flattered and pleased, desired that the poet should be presented
to him. Boileau accordingly appeared at court. The king conversed with
him, and asked him what passage in his poems he himself esteemed the
best. It so happened that the prince of Condé had found fault with the
conclusion of his epistle to the king. It had ended with the fable of
the two men quarrelling about an oyster they had found, and referred
their dispute to a judge, who swallowed the cause of it in a moment. The
prince considered this story, however well told, not in harmony with the
elevated tone of the epistle; and Boileau, yielding to the criticism,
wrote a different conclusion. When asked by the king for his favourite
passage, the little tact he had as a courtier, joined to an author's
natural partiality for his latest production, made him cite the lines,
of which these are the concluding ones:--
"Et comme tes exploits étonnant les lecteurs,
Seront à peine crus sur la foi des auteurs,
Si quelque esprit malin les veut traiter de fables,
On dira quelque jour, pour les rendre croyables.
Boileau, qui dans ses vers, pleins de sincérité,
Jadis à tout son siècle a dit la vérité,
Qui mit à tout blâmer son étude et sa gloire,
A pourtant de ce roi parlé comme l'histoire."
The king was naturally touched by this forcible and eloquent praise: the
tears came into his eyes, and he exclaimed, "This is, indeed, beautiful;
and I would praise you more had you praised me less." And at once he
bestowed a pension on the poet. Such applause and such tribute, from a
monarch then adored by his subjects, might have elated a weak man.
Boileau afterwards related that, on returning home, his first emotion
was sadness: he feared that he had bartered his liberty, and he
regretted its loss.
[Sidenote: 1677.
Ætat.
41.]
Racine was already received at court, and a favourite. The intimate and
tender friendship between him and Boileau caused them often to be
together, and together they conceived many literary plans. One of these
was the institution of an academy composed of a very small number of
persons, who were selected for the purpose of writing a short
explanation beneath every medal struck by Louis XIV. to celebrate the
great events of his reign. These scanty notices were necessarily
incomplete, and madame de Montespan originated the project of a regular
history being compiled. "Flattery was the motive," writes madame de
Caylus, in her memoirs; "but it must be allowed that it was not the idea
of a common-place woman." Madame de Maintenon proposed that the king
should name Boileau and Racine his joint historiographers, and the
appointment accordingly took place.
The poets, gratified by the distinction, were eager to render themselves
competent to the task. It must be remembered, that, though their
inutility and subsequent loss have thrown Louis's conquests into the
shade, they were then the object of all men's admiration, and were the
influential events of the time; while the rapidity and brilliancy of his
victories dazzled his subjects, and intimidated all other nations. The
two friends renounced poetry, and betook themselves to the studies
appertaining to their future work. They applied themselves to the past
history of their country, and to the memoirs and letters concerning the
then present time, which, at the command of the king, were placed in
their hands. Louis was at war with Holland, Spain, and the German
empire. Turenne was dead; but many great generals, formed under him and
the great Condé, remained. Louvois, as minister of war, facilitated
every undertaking by the admirable order which he established in his
department The king joined the armies in person in the spring, and town
after town fell into his hands.
[Sidenote: 1677.
Ætat.
41.]
On his return from these rapid conquests, he asked his historiographers
how it was that they had not had the curiosity to witness a siege--"The
distance was so slight," he said. "Very true," replied Racine, "but our
tailors were too slow: we ordered clothes for the journey, but, before
they came home, all the towns besieged by your majesty were taken." The
compliment pleased Louis, who bade them prepare by times for the next
campaign, as they ought to witness the events which, as historians, they
were destined to relate.
[Sidenote: 1678.
Ætat.
42.]
The following year, accordingly, the two authors accompanied the king to
the siege of Gand. The fact of two poets following the army to be
present at sieges and battles was the source of a number of pleasantries
at court. Their more warlike friends, in good-humoured raillery, laid a
thousand traps for their ignorance: they often fell in; and when they
did not they got the credit of so doing, as the king was to be diverted
by their mistakes. The poets seem to have been singularly ignorant of
everything appertaining to a journey, and to have shown the most amusing
credulity. Racine was told that he must take care to have his horse shod
by a bargain of forfeit. "Do you imagine," said his adviser, M. de
Cavoie, "that an army always finds blacksmiths ready on their march?
Before you leave Paris, a bargain is made with a smith, who warrants, on
penalty of a forfeit, that your horse's shoes shall remain on for six
months." "I never heard of that before," said Racine; "Boileau did not
tell me; but I do not wonder--he never thinks of anything." He hastened
to his friend to reproach him for this neglect; Boileau confessed his
ignorance; and they hurried out to seek the blacksmith most in use for
this sort of bargain. The king was duly informed of their perplexity,
and, by his raillery in the evening, undeceived them. One day, after a
long march, Boileau, whose health was weak, being much fatigued, threw
himself on his bed, supperless, on arriving. M. de Cavoie, hearing this,
went to him, after the king's supper, and said, with an appearance of
great uneasiness, that he had bad news. "The king," he said, "is
displeased with you. He remarked a very blameable act of which you were
guilty to-day." "What was it?" asked Boileau in alarm. "I cannot bring
myself to tell you," replied his tormentor; "I cannot make up my mind to
afflict my friends." Then, after teazing him for some time, he said,
"Well, if I must confess it, the king remarked that you were sitting
awry on your horse." "If that is all," said Boileau, "let me go to
sleep." On one occasion, during this campaign, Louis having so exposed
himself that a cannon ball passed within perilous vicinity, Boileau
addressed him, saying, "I beg, sire, in the character of your historian,
that you will not bring your history to so abrupt a conclusion."
Boileau's health prevented him from following any other campaign; but
Racine accompanied the king in several, and wrote long narrations to his
brother historian. It has been asserted that, though named
historiographers, they did not employ themselves in fulfilling the
duties of their office; and a fragment of Racine's, on the siege of
Namur, is the only relic that remains of their employment. Louis Racine,
however, assures us that they were continually occupied on it. On their
death, their joint labours fell into the hands of M. de Valincour, their
successor, and were consumed when his house at Saint-Cloud was burned
down.
That such was the case seems certain, from the fact that they were in
the habit, when they had written any detail of interest, of reading it
to the king. These readings took place in the apartments of madame de
Montespan. Both had the entree there at the hour of the king's visit,
and madame de Maintenon was also present. Racine was the favourite of
the latter lady, Boileau of the former; but the friends were wholly
devoid of jealousy; and Boileau's free spirit led him to set little real
store by court favour. In these royal interviews, the poets could mark
the increasing influence of madame de Maintenon, and the decreasing
favour of her rival. At one time, however, madame de Montespan contrived
to get her friend excluded from the readings, much to the mortification
of the historians. This did not last long. One day, the king being
indisposed, and keeping his bed, they were summoned, with an order to
bring some newly-written portion of their history with them. They were
surprised to find madame de Maintenon sitting in an arm-chair near the
king's bed, in familiar conversation with him. They were about to
commence reading when madame de Montespan entered. Her uneasy manner and
exaggerated civilities showed her vacillating position; till the king,
to put an end to her various demonstrations of annoyance, told her to
sit down and listen, as it was not just that a work, commenced under her
directions, should be read in her absence.
Such scenes seem scarcely to enter into a narration of Boileau's life;
but, he being present at them, they form a portion, and cannot be passed
over. It is essential to his character to show, that, though admitted to
a court, the cynosure of all men's aspirations, the focus of glory, he
was neither dazzled nor fettered by its influence. As a courtier he
maintained a free and manly bearing, while his absence of mind even
caused him to fall into mistakes which shocked his more careful friend
Racine. Being in conversation one day with madame de Maintenon on the
subject of literature, Boileau exclaimed against the vulgar burlesque
poetry which had formerly been in fashion, and it escaped him to say,
"Happily this vile taste has passed away, and Scarron is no longer read
even in the provinces." Racine reproached him afterwards:--"Why name
Scarron before her?" he said; "are you ignorant of their near
connection."--"Alas! no," replied Boileau; "but it is the first thing I
forget when I am in her company." He even forgot himself so far, on
occasions, as to mention Scarron before the king. Racine was still more
scandalised on this:--"I will not accompany you to court," he said, "if
you are so imprudent." "I am ashamed," replied Boileau; "but what man is
exempt from saying foolish things?" and he excused himself by alleging
the example of M. Arnaud, who was even more absent. Nor did he limit his
want of pliancy to mere manner. He did not disguise more important
differences of opinion. The king and court espoused the cause of the
jesuits: to be a jansenist often caused the entire loss of court favour;
but Boileau did not conceal his adherence to that party, and his
partiality to its chief, M. Arnaud; and as he grew older, instead of
growing more servile, he emancipated himself yet more entirely from
court influence; and his "Epistle on Ambiguity" is a proof of an
independence of spirit that commands our warmest esteem.
His courage in thus openly espousing the opinions of jansenism surprised
Racine. "You enjoy," he said to him, "a privilege I cannot obtain. You
say things I dare not say. You have praised persons in your poems whom I
do not venture to mention. You are the person that ought to be accused
of jansenism; yet I am much more attacked. What can be the reason?" "It
is an obvious one," replied Boileau; "you go to mass every day; I only
go on Sundays and festivals."
The honour of belonging to the academy was in those days eagerly sought
after. Boileau aspired to a seat, but never solicited it, and was passed
over. It has been related in the life of La Fontaine how displeased the
king was with this omission, and how he refused to confirm La Fontaine's
election till Boileau was also chosen. His speech on taking possession
of his chair, in which it was the fashion for the new member to
humiliate himself, and exalt the academy with ridiculous exaggerations,
was dignified, but modest. He alluded to the attacks he had made on
authors who were members of the academy as "many reasons that shut its
doors against him." His after career as member was rather stormy.
Surrounded by writers whom he had satirised, and who conceived
themselves injured, he had to contend with a numerous party. His chief
antagonist was a M. Charpentier, on whom he often spent the treasures of
his wit, and discomfited by his raillery, though he had a host of
members on his side. One day, however, he gained his point. "It is
surprising," he said: "everybody sided with me, and yet I was in the
right."
His life, meanwhile, was easy and agreeable. Undisturbed by passion, yet
of warm and affectionate feelings, with a mind ever active, and a temper
unruffled, the society and pleasures of Paris, the favour of the great,
and love of his friends, filled and varied his days. The slight annuity
he had purchased with his inheritance was seasonably increased by the
pension which the king had bestowed on him, and his salary as
historiographer. He was careful and economical, but the reverse of
grasping or avaricious. He had an ill-founded scruple as to an author's
profiting by his writings, as if he had not a legitimate claim on the
price which the public were eager to pay to acquire his productions. He
carried this so far as to infect Racine with the same notion. In his own
case there might be some ground; since, when he first published, his
works consisted of satires, and a delicate, feeling man might shrink
from profiting by the attacks he made on others. Another instance is
given of his scrupulousness in money matters. He enjoyed for some years
an income arising from a benefice. His venerated friend, M. de
Lamoignon, represented to him that he could not conscientiously, as a
layman, enjoy the revenues of the church; and he not only gave up his
benefice, but, calculating how much he had received during the years
that he enjoyed it, he distributed that sum among the poor of the place.
Another anecdote is told of his generosity. M. Patin was esteemed one of
the cleverest men of the times, as well as one the most excellent and
virtuous. His passion for literature was such, that he neglected his
profession as advocate for its sake, and fell into indigence. He was
forced to sell his library: Boileau bought it, and then begged his
friend to keep possession of it as long as he lived. He was, indeed,
generally kind-hearted and generous to authors, unchecked by any ill
conduct on their part. Often he lent money to a miserable writer,
Linière, who would go and spend it at alehouses, and write a song
against his creditor. The economy that allowed him to be thus generous
was indeed praiseworthy, and did not arise from love of money, but a
spirit of independence, and the power of self-denial in matters of
luxury.
[Sidenote: 1687.
Ætat.
51.]