busy life was a delicate state of health, and he grew more ailing as he
grew older. At one time an affection of the chest caused him to lose his
voice, and he was ordered to drink the waters of the baths of Bourbon as
a means of regaining it. His correspondence with Racine on this occasion
is published. Boileau's letters are the best, the most witty, easy, and
amusing. Racine relates how each day the king inquired after his health,
and was eager for his return to court; while Boileau laments over his
continued indisposition. There was a dispute among the physicians, as to
his bathing in the waters as well as drinking them: some of the learned
declaring such an act fatal, while others recommended it as a mode of
cure. Racine related to the king, while at dinner, the perplexity of his
friend between these contradictory counsels. "For my part," said the
princess de Conti, who was sitting near Louis, "I would rather be mute
for thirty years, than risk my life to regain my voice." Boileau
replied, "I am not surprised at the princess of Conti's sentiment. If
she lost her speech, she would still retain a million other charms to
compensate to her for her loss, and she would still be the most perfect
creature that for a long time nature has produced; but a wretch like me
needs his voice to be endured by men, and to dispute with M.
Charpentier. If it were only on the latter account one ought to risk
something; and life is not of such value, but that one may hazard it for
the sake of being able to interrupt such a speaker." These letters are
very entertaining; they display the style of the times, and the vivacity
and amiableness of Boileau's disposition, in very pleasing colours. His
vivacity was of the head, and of temper. He was exempt from vehemence of
feeling; and did not suffer the internal struggles to which those are
subject whose souls are impregnated with passion; nor was he satirical
in conversation: as madame de Sévigné said of him, he was cruel only
in verse; and Lord Rochester's expression was applied to him--
"The best good man, with the worst-natured muse."
Without pride, also, and without pretension, he could turn his own fame
and labours into a jest. Going one day to present the order for his
pension, which said that it was granted "on account of the satisfaction
which the king derived from his works," the clerk asked him what sort of
works his were. "Masonry," he replied: "I am an architect." At another
time, when, passing Easter at a friend's house in the country, and being
exact in fulfilling his religious duties, he made his confession to a
country curate, to whom he was unknown, the confessor asked him what his
usual occupations were? "Writing verses," replied the penitent. "So much
the worse," said the curate; "and what sort of verses?" "Satires."
"Still worse--and against whom?" "Against those who write bad verses,
against the vices of the times, against pernicious books, romances, and
operas." "Ah!" cried the curate, "that is not so bad, and I have nothing
to say against it."
[Sidenote: 1687.
Ætat.
51.]
His spirit of intolerance for "those who wrote bad verses," or approved
them, was excited to its height by Perrault's[92] "Siècle de Louis
Quatorze." This poem was the origin of the famous dispute as to the
ancients and moderns, which "Swift's Battle of the Books" made known in
this country. Perrault, with little Latin, and no Greek, undertook to
depreciate Homer; and he had Fontenelle for his ally, who, with more
learning and less taste, declared that, if the Greek bucolic writers had
now first produced their pastorals, they would be scouted as wretched.
Perrault did not content himself with the exposition of his opinion in
his poem; he wrote a "Parallel between the Ancients and Moderns," in
which he not only praised the good writers of the day, but even
Chapelain, Quinault, Cotin, and others on whom Boileau had set the seal
of his irony.
[Sidenote: 1692.
Ætat.
56.]
The satirist could neither brook this rebellion against his fiat, nor
the sort of blasphemy indulged in against those great masters of the art
whom he was aware he but feebly imitated. He wrote several bitter
epigrams against Perrault; and then, finding that by no explanation or
translation could he make a mere French reader understand the sublimity
of Pindar, he sought to imitate this poet in his ode on the taking of
Namur. This was a bold undertaking, and it cannot be said that he
succeeded; for the French language was then far less capable than now of
expressing the sublime; and Boileau's talent was not of that elevated
and daring kind which could invent new modes of expression, and force
his language to embody the ideal and bold images that constitute the
sublime. Still we must honour the attempt for the sake of its motive.
"The following ode," he says, in his preface, "was written on occasion
of those strange dialogues, lately published, in which all the great
writers of antiquity are treated as authors to be compared with the
Chapelains and Cotins; and in which, while it is sought to do honour to
our age, it is really vilified by the fact that there exist men capable
of writing such nonsense. Pindar is the worst treated." He goes on to
say that, as it was exceedingly difficult to explain the beauties of
Pindar to those who did not understand Greek, he attempted to write a
French ode in imitation of his style, as the best mode of conveying an
idea of it. This war went on for some time; and various attacks,
replies, and rejoinders appeared on both sides. At last a personal
reconciliation took place between Boileau and Perrault; neither yielded
his opinion, but they ceased to write against each other.
[Sidenote: 1659.
Ætat.
56.]
At this time also he wrote other satires:--one on women, which rather
consists of portraits of various faulty individuals than a satire
against the sex in general. It is by no means one of the best of his
works. We may say otherwise, however, of the spirit that reigns in the
satire addressed to Ambiguity, and which, from the boldness with which
it attacks the jesuits, is at once one of the most useful of his works,
and displays the independence of his soul. He wrote his epistle also on
the Love of God, another jansenist production. At this time he again
awoke to the pleasures of composition, at the same time that he showed
such a love for his works that he emptied his portfolios of every scrap
of verse he had ever written, and placed them in the hands of the
booksellers.[93] As he grew older he became more recluse in his habits,
without losing any of the pleasure he always felt in the society of his
intimate friends. The turn he had for personal enjoyment, which had
shown itself in youth, in a love for social and convivial pleasures,
became a sort of happy indolence, enlivened by the pleasures of
friendship. His correspondence with Racine displays an affectionate
disposition, an easy carelessness as to money, and a quiet sort of wit,
which turned to pleasantry the ordinary routine of life, and bespeaks a
mind at ease, and a well-balanced disposition. The expenses of his wars
caused Louis XIV. to reduce the pensions he had granted, and those of
Boileau and Racine suffered with the rest. Racine was then at court; and
he wrote to his friend to inform him, that their salaries as
historiographers were fixed at 4000 livres a year for himself and 2000
for Boileau; the health of the latter not permitting him to follow the
army being the cause of his receiving the smaller sum. Racine adds, "You
see everything is arranged as you yourself wished, yet I am truly
annoyed that I appear to receive more than you; but, besides the fatigue
of the journeys, which I am glad that you are spared, I know that you
are so noble and friendly that I feel sure you will rejoice at my being
the best paid." Boileau replied, "Are you mad with your compliments? Do
you not know that I myself prescribed the mode in which this affair
should be settled; and can you doubt but that I am satisfied with an
arrangement by which I receive all I asked?" His friendship for Racine
seems to have been the warmest feeling of his heart; and growing deaf as
he grew old, and leading a more and more retired life, the tragedian,
his family, and a few others, formed all his society. There is something
simple and touching in the mention Racine makes of their visits in his
letters to his eldest son. The bitter satirist adapting his talk to the
younger children of his friend, while he was so deaf that he could not
hear their replies, and his eager endeavours to amuse them, gives zest
to Racine's exclamation, "He is the best man in the world!" Sometimes
the spirit of composition revived in him, but it quickly grew cold
again[94]; yet, while it lasted, it furnished occupation and amusement.
He did not live wholly at Paris. He had saved 8000 livres, and with this
sum he purchased a country house at Auteuil. Charmed with his
acquisition, he at first spent a good deal on it; he embellished the
grounds, and delighted to assemble his friends together. Racine often
retired there to repose from his attendance at court, and from his
fatigues in following the army in various campaigns. Boileau, fastidious
in all things, knew well how to choose his company. The conversations
were either enlivened by sallies of wit, or rendered interesting by his
sagacity and good taste. He had long renounced his more equivocal modes
of amusing, such as mimicry, as unworthy. In the heyday of youth sallies
of this sort are indulged in under the influence of high animal spirits;
and it is whimsical to remark how the slothful spirit of age gravely
denounces that as wrong which it is no longer capable of achieving.
Boileau, however, had many other resources. His guests delighted to
gather his opinions, and hung upon his maxims. He criticised the works
of the day, and the favourite authors. He admired La Bruyère, though he
called him obscure, and justly remarked that he spared himself the most
difficult part of a work when he omitted the transitions and links of
one portion with another. No one dared praise St. Evremond before him,
though he had become the fashionable author of the day. He detested low
pleasantry. "Racine," he said, "is sometimes silly enough to laugh over
Scarron's travestie of Virgil, but he hides this from me."
[Sidenote: 1698.
Ætat.
62.]
Thus tranquil and esteemed, surrounded by friends, and without a care,
he lived long, notwithstanding the weakness of his constitution and bad
health. A few days after the death of Racine, he appeared at court to
take the king's commands with regard to the task of historiographer,
which had now devolved entirely on himself. He spoke to the king of the
intrepidity with which his friend viewed the approaches of death. "I am
aware of this," replied Louis, "and somewhat surprised, for he feared
death greatly; and I remember that at the siege of Gand you were the
more courageous of the two." The king afterwards added, "Remember, I
have always an hour in the week to give you when you like to come."
Boileau, however, never went to court again. His friends often entreated
him to appear from time to time, but he answered, "What should I do
there? I cannot flatter." No doubt he felt admiration for all Louis's
great qualities, and gratitude for the kindness shown to himself; but he
was too penetrating an observer, and too impartial a judge, not to be
aware that the court paid to a king, amounting in those days almost to
idolatry, renders him a factitious personage, and only fit to be
approached by those who, either through long habit, or by having some
point to gain, accommodate themselves to that sort of watchful deference
and self-immolation which is intolerable to persons accustomed to utter
spontaneously what they think, and to enjoy society so far as they are
unshackled by fears of offending a master.
Boileau survived Racine several years: this period was spent in
retirement, and his health grew weaker and weaker. He lived either at
Paris or Auteuil. There Louis Racine, the son of the poet, from whom we
gather these details, often visited him. He was a youth at that time; he
and Boileau played at skittles together; the poet was a good player, and
often knocked down all nine at one bowling. "It must be confessed," he
said, "that I possess two talents equally useful to my country; I play
well at nine-pins, and write verses." Louis Racine was then at school at
Beauvais. He wrote an elegy on a dog; and his mother, a good but
narrow-minded woman, took it to Boileau, and begged him to dissuade her
son from following the career of a poet. The youth went trembling to
hear his fiat; and Boileau, who saw no eminent talent in the production
of his young friend, told him that he was very bold, with the name he
bore, to attempt poetry. "Perhaps," he said, "you might one day write
well; but I am incredulous as to extraordinary events, and I never heard
of the son of a great poet turning out a great poet. The younger
Corneille has merit, but he will always be a minor Corneille; take care
that the same thing does not happen to you." Thus it is that in age we
look back on the career we boldly enter on in youth; and aware of the
dangers we ran, and forgetting the enthusiasm and passion that then
raised us above fear, and promised us success, we endeavour to impart to
our juniors the prudence and experience we have gained. In vain. Life
would be far other than it is, did the young, at the dictum of the old,
divest themselves of errors and passions, desires and anticipations, and
see as plainly as those advanced in life the nothingness of the objects
of their wishes. It is the scheme of the Creator, for some unknown
purpose, that each new generation should go over the same course; and
each, reaching the same point of rest, should wonder what the impulse is
that drives successors over the same dangerous ground.
To return to Boileau: not long before his death he somewhat changed his
habits. Though not in want of money, he was induced, by the
solicitations of a friend, to sell him his house at Auteuil, it being
promised that a room should always be reserved for him, and that he
should continue as much its master as when he actually possessed it.
Fifteen days after the sale he visited the place, and, going into the
garden, looked about for a little grove, beneath whose shade he was
accustomed to saunter and indulge in reverie; it was no longer there: he
called for the gardener, and heard that, by order of the new proprietor,
his favourite trees had been cut down: he paused for a moment, and then
went back to his carriage, saying, "Since I am no longer master, what
business have I here?" He returned instantly to Paris, and never
revisited Auteuil.
Boileau was a pious man; he fulfilled strictly his religious duties. It
is told of him that, dining with the duke of Orleans on a fast-day,
nothing but flesh being served at table, Boileau confined himself to
bread: the duke, perceiving this, said, "The fish has been forgotten, so
you must be content to forego the fast as we do." "Yet," said Boileau,
"if you were but to strike the ground with your foot, fish would rise
from the earth." A witty and happy adaptation of Pompey's boast. In his
latter years he congratulated himself on the purity of his poems. "It is
a great consolation," he said, "to a poet about to die, to feel that he
has never written any thing injurious to virtue."
His last days were employed in correcting a complete edition of his
works. This was to include his "Dialogue on the Romances," which so
pleasantly ridicules the language which mademoiselle Scuderi puts in the
mouths of Cyrus, Horatius Codes, and Clelia. Out of respect for the
authoress he had hitherto refrained from printing it; but it had been
read in private: the marquis de Sévigné had written it down from
recollection; and it had been printed in a pirated edition of the works
of St. Evremond. Mademoiselle Scuderi being dead, Boileau resolved on
publishing it. But the chief addition to his edition was his "Epistle to
Ambiguity." Already was the publication in progress when the jesuits
took alarm. They gave it in charge to père le Tellier, the king's
confessor, to speak to Louis, and to induce him to stop the publication.
The monarch was docile to the voice of his confessor: he not only
forbade Boileau to publish the satire, but ordered him to give up the
original into his hands, informing him, at the same time, that with this
omission his edition might appear. But Boileau, feeling himself about to
die, disdained to temporise, and preferred suppressing the whole edition
rather than truckle to the jesuits.
[Sidenote: 1711.
Ætat.
75.]
His death was Christian and catholic, yet not so strictly devout as that
of Racine. To the last he maintained his literary tastes, and was alive
to critical remark. A friend thought to amuse him during his last
illness by reading a new and popular tragedy: "Ah! my friend," he cried,
"am I not dying in time? the Pradons, whom we laughed at in our youth,
were suns in comparison with these authors." When he was asked how he
felt, he replied by a verse from Malherbe:
"Je suis vaincu du temps, je cède à ses outrages."
As he was expiring, he saw M. Coutard approach; he pressed his hand,
saying, "Bon jour, et adieu--c'est un long adieu."
He died of dropsy on the chest, on the 13th of March, 1711, in the
seventy-fifth year of his age. He was buried in the lower chapel of the
Sainte Chapelle, immediately under the spot which, in the upper chapel,
is immortalised by his "Lutrin." Numerous friends attended the funeral;
and one among them overheard a woman say, "He had many friends, it
seems, yet I have heard that he spoke ill of everybody."
This is an exaggeration of what may be considered as the only flaw in
Boileau's character:--generous and charitable; simple and natural in his
manners; full of friendship, kindness, and integrity; we almost hesitate
to pronounce severity of criticism against bad books a fault; but we
cannot avoid perceiving that the ridicule he has attached to the names
of Chapelain, Cotin, and others, however well deserved by their
writings, might have been spared to the men. It reminds us too strongly
of the anonymous critics of the present day not to be held in
detestation.
It is not necessary to enter at length on the subject of his works. He
possessed to a high degree the faculty of wit; generally speaking wit
simply, not humour[95]: point the most acute, expressions the most
happy, embody and carry home his meaning. He is not as elegant as
Horace, nor as bitter nor as elevated as Juvenal: he indeed resembles
the former more than the latter; but he has vivacity and truth, and a
high tone of moral and critical feeling, which give strength to his
epigrams; his principal defect being the want of a playful fancy, which
caused a sort of aridity to be spread over his happiest sallies. He
laboured to polish his verses diligently; and their apparent ease
results from the justness of taste that taught him to retrench every
superfluity of expression. The "Lutrin" rises superior to his other
productions; and in these days, and for posterity, his fame will chiefly
rest upon that poem.
[Footnote 78: The place of his birth and the date have been disputed.
Critics have decided on the farts above given. The doubt partly
originated in Boileau himself. Louis XIV. one day asked him his age; he
replied, "I came into the world a year before your majesty, that I might
announce the glories of your reign." The reply pleased the king, and was
applauded by the courtiers; nor did Boileau err much in the fact; for,
being born as late in the year as December, he was scarcely more than a
year older than the king, though the date of that monarch's birth was
1638.]
[Footnote 79:
Que si quelqu'un, mes Vers, alors vous importune,
Pour savoir mes parents, ma vie, et ma fortune,
Contez lui qu'allié d'assez hauts magistrats,
Fils d'un greffier, né d'ayeux avocats,
Des le berceau perdant une forte jeune mère,
Réduit seize ans après à pleurer mon vieux père,
J'allai d'un pas hardi, par moi-mème guidé,
Et de mon seul génie en marchant seconde,
Studieux amateur de Perse et d'Horace,
Assez pres de Regnier m'asseoir sur le Parnasse.--Epître X.
La famille en pâlit, et vit en frémissant,
Dans la poudre du greffier un poète naissant.--Epître V.]
[Footnote 80: The duc de Montauzier married Julie d'Angennes, demoiselle
de Rambouillet--the deity of the clique which established the system of
factitious gallantry which Molière and Boileau ridiculed and exploded.
Of course the duke was inimically inclined; but time softened the
exasperation, and Boileau, by apt flattery in his epistle to Racine,
completed the change. Soon after the publication of this epistle, the
peer and poet met in the galleries of Versailles, and exchanged
compliments; the duke took the satirist home to dine with him, and was
his friend ever after.]
[Footnote 81: The following is a specimen of the poetry of the
"Pucelle,"--the Maid of Orleans is addressing the king:--
"O! grand prince, que grand des cette heure j'appelle,
Il est vrai, le respect sert de bride à mon zèle:
Mais ton illustre aspect me redouble le cœur,
Et me le redoublant, me redouble la peur.
A ton illustre aspect mon cœur se sollicite,
Et grimpant contre mont, la dure terre quitte.
O! que n'ai-je le ton désormais assez fort
Pour aspirer à toi, sans te faire de tort.
Pour toi puissé-je avoir une mortelle pointe
Vers où l'épaule gauche à la gorge est conjointe,
Que le coup brisât l'os, et fit pleûvoir le sang
De la temple, du dos, de l'épaule, et du flanc."]
[Footnote 82: Voltaire, in his "Mémoire sur la Satire," severely
censures Boileau. Voltaire was peculiarly sensitive to satire, while he
never spared it in his turn; he cherished a sort of reserve in his mind,
that made it venial in him to attack with virulence, while no one was to
censure him without the most cutting return. This fact, however, does
not alter his argument. It is a difficult question. It may be said that
it is impossible but that bad books should be criticised by contemporary
writers, while all men of generous and liberal natures will be averse to
undertaking the office of butcher themselves.]
[Footnote 83: The pensions were granted in 1663. Chapelain selected the
names; but we can hardly believe that he wrote the list, such as it has
come down to us, wherein the praise lavished on himself is ridiculous
enough: The occasion of the pension is appended to the name: this is a
specimen of some among them:--
"Au sieur Pierre Corneille, premier poète dramatique du monde, deux
mille francs.
"Au sieur Desmarets, le plus fertile auteur, et doué de
la plus belle imagination qui ait jamais été, douze cents francs.
"Au sieur Molière, excellent poète comique, mille francs.
"Au sieur Racine, poète français, huit cents francs.
"Au sieur Chapelain, le plus grand poète français qui ait jamais
été, et du plus solide jugement, trois mille francs."]
[Footnote 84: Satire IX.]
[Footnote 85: For an account of Chapelle, see Life of Molière.]
[Footnote 86: In one of his later poems, Boileau, addressing his verses,
thus speaks Of the successes of his youth:--
"Vains et faibles enfans dans ma vieillesse nés,
Vous croyez sur les pas de vos heureux ainés,
Voir bientôt vos bons-mots, passant du peuple aux princes,
Charmer également la ville et les provinces;
Et, par le prompt effet d'un sel rejouissant.
Devenir quelquefois proverbes en naissant.
Mais perdez cette erreur dont l'appas vous amorce,
Le temps n'est plus, mes Vers, ou ma plume, en sa force
Du Parnasse Français formant les nourissons,
De si riches couleurs habillait ses leçons:
Quand mon Esprit, poussé d'un courroux légitime,
Vint devant la Raison plaider contre la Rime,
A tout le genre humain sçut faire le procès,
Et s'attaqua soi-même avec tant de succès.
Alors il n'était point de lecteur si sauvage,
Qui ne se déridât en lisant mon ouvrage,
Et qui pour s'égayer, souvent dans ses discours
D'un mot pris en mes vers n'empruntât le secours."]
[Footnote 87: In an article in The Liberal, Mr. Leigh Hunt draws a
parallel between Boileau and Pope, in that spirit of just and delicate
criticism for which he is remarkable: "As Terence was called half
Menander so Boileau is half Pope. He wants Ariel; he wants his invisible
world; he wants that poetical part of poetry which consists in bringing
a remote and creative fancy to wait on the more obvious wit and graces
that lie about us." The critic, however, bestows great praise on the
exordium of the "Lutrin;" and it must be remembered that Boileau
preceded Pope, and that the English poet was in some sort an imitator of
the French.]
[Footnote 88: The desk, being old fashioned and cumbrous, covered the
whole space before the chanter, and hid him entirely; the chanter
consequently removed it, which excited the anger of his superior, the
treasurer, who had it replaced. It was again removed, again replaced;
the whole chapter being in a state of dissension and enmity on the
subject, till Lamoignon contrived to pacify the parties.]