Je ne regard plus qu'en bas,
Je suis torticolis, j'ai la tête penchante;
Ma mine devient si plaisante
Que quand on en riroit, je ne m'en plaindrois pas.
"I can only see under me; I am wry-necked; my head hangs down; my
appearance is so droll, that if people laugh, I shall not
complain."
He says elsewhere,
Parmi les torticolis
Je passe pour un des plus jolis.
"Among your wry-necked people I pass for one of the handsomest."
After having suffered this distortion of shape, and these acute pains
for four years, he quitted his usual residence, the quarter du Marais,
for the baths of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain. He took leave of his
friends, by addressing some verses to them, entitled, _Adieu aux
Marais_; in which he describes several celebrated persons. When he was
brought into the street in a chair, the pleasure of seeing himself there
once more overcame the pains which the motion occasioned, and he has
celebrated the transport by an ode, which has for title, "The Way from
le Marais to the Fauxbourg Saint Germain."
The baths he tried had no effect on his miserable disorder. But a new
affliction was added to the catalogue of his griefs.
His father, who had hitherto contributed to his necessities, having
joined a party against Cardinal Richelieu, was exiled. This affair was
rendered still more unfortunate by his mother-in-law with her children
at Paris, in the absence of her husband, appropriating the property of
the family to her own use.
Hitherto Scarron had had no connexion with Cardinal Richelieu. The
conduct of his father had even rendered his name disagreeable to the
minister, who was by no means prone to forgiveness. Scarron, however,
when he thought his passion moderated, ventured to present a petition,
which is considered by the critics as one of his happiest productions.
Richelieu permitted it to be read to him, and acknowledged that it
afforded him much pleasure, and that it was _pleasantly dated_. This
_pleasant date_ is thus given by Scarron:--
Fait à Paris dernier jour d'Octobre,
Par moi, Scarron, qui malgre moi suis sobre,
L'an que l'on prit le fameux Perpignan,
Et, sans canon, la ville de Sedan.
At Paris done, the last day of October,
By me, Scarron, who wanting wine am sober,
The year they took fam'd Perpignan,
And, without cannon-ball, Sedan.
This was flattering the minister adroitly in two points very agreeable
to him. The poet augured well of the dispositions of the cardinal, and
lost no time to return to the charge, by addressing an ode to him, to
which he gave the title of THANKS, as if he had already received the
favours which he hoped he should receive! Thus Ronsard dedicated to
Catherine of Medicis, who was prodigal of promises, his hymn to
PROMISE. But all was lost for Scarron by the death of the Cardinal.
When Scarron's father died, he brought his mother-in-law into court;
and, to complete his misfortunes, lost his suit. The cases which he drew
up for the occasion were so extremely burlesque, that the world could
not easily conceive how a man could amuse himself so pleasantly on a
subject on which his existence depended.
The successor of Richelieu, the Cardinal Mazarin, was insensible to his
applications. He did nothing for him, although the poet dedicated to him
his _Typhon_, a burlesque poem, in which the author describes the wars
of the giants with the gods. Our bard was so irritated at this neglect,
that he suppressed a sonnet he had written in his favour, and aimed at
him several satirical bullets. Scarron, however, consoled himself for
this kind of disgrace with those select friends who were not inconstant
in their visits to him. The Bishop of Mans also, solicited by a friend,
gave him a living in his diocese. When Scarron had taken possession of
it, he began his _Roman Comique_, ill translated into English by
_Comical Romance_. He made friends by his dedications. Such resources
were indeed necessary, for he not only lived well, but had made his
house an asylum for his two sisters, who there found refuge from an
unfeeling step-mother.
It was about this time that the beautiful and accomplished Mademoiselle
d'Aubigné, afterwards so well known by the name of Madame de Maintenon,
she who was to be one day the mistress, if not the queen of France,
formed with Scarron the most romantic connexion. She united herself in
marriage with one whom she well knew could only be a lover. It was
indeed amidst that literary society she formed her taste and embellished
with her presence his little residence, where assembled the most
polished courtiers and some of the finest geniuses of Paris of that
famous party, called _La Fronde_, formed against Mazarin. Such was the
influence this marriage had over Scarron, that after this period his
writings became more correct and more agreeable than those which he had
previously composed. Scarron, on his side, gave a proof of his
attachment to Madame de Maintenon; for by marrying her he lost his
living of Mans. But though without wealth, he was accustomed to say that
"his wife and he would not live uncomfortable by the produce of his
estate and the _Marquisate of Quinet_." Thus he called the revenue which
his compositions produced, and _Quinet_ was his bookseller.
Scarron addressed one of his dedications to his dog, to ridicule those
writers who dedicate their works indiscriminately, though no author has
been more liberal of dedications than himself; but, as he confessed, he
made dedication a kind of business. When he was low in cash he always
dedicated to some lord, whom he praised as warmly as his dog, but whom
probably he did not esteem as much.
When Scarron was visited, previous to general conversation his friends
were taxed with a perusal of what he had written since he saw them last.
Segrais and a friend calling on him, "Take a chair," said our author,
"and let me _try on you_ my 'Roman Comique.'" He took his manuscript,
read several pages, and when he observed that they laughed, he said,
"Good, this goes well; my book can't fail of success, since it obliges
such able persons as yourselves to laugh;" and then remained silent to
receive their compliments. He used to call this _trying on his romance_,
as a tailor _tries_ his _coat_. He was agreeable and diverting in all
things, even in his complaints and passions. Whatever he conceived he
immediately too freely expressed; but his amiable lady corrected him of
this in three months after marriage.
He petitioned the queen, in his droll manner, to be permitted the honour
of being her _Sick-Man by right of office_. These verses form a part of
his address to her majesty:
Scarron, par la grace de Dieu,
Malade indigne de la reine,
Homme n'ayant ni feu, ni lieu,
Mais bien du mal et de la peine;
Hôpital allant et venant,
Des jambes d'autrui cheminant,
Des sieunes n'ayant plus l'usage,
Souffrant beaucoup, dormant bien pen,
Et pourtant faisant par courage
Bonne mine et fort mauvais jeu.
"Scarron, by the grace of God, the unworthy Sick-Man of the Queen;
a man without a house, though a moving hospital of disorders;
walking only with other people's legs, with great sufferings, but
little sleep; and yet, in spite of all, very courageously showing a
hearty countenance, though indeed he plays a losing game."
She smiled, granted the title, and, what was better, added a small
pension, which losing, by lampooning the minister Mazarin, Fouquet
generously granted him a more considerable one.
The termination of the miseries of this facetious genius was now
approaching. To one of his friends, who was taking leave of him for some
time, Scarron said, "I shall soon die; the only regret I have in dying
is not to be enabled to leave some property to my wife, who is possessed
of infinite merit, and whom I have every reason imaginable to admire and
to praise."
One day he was seized with so violent a fit of the hiccough, that his
friends now considered his prediction would soon be verified. When it
was over, "If ever I recover," cried Scarron, "I will write a bitter
satire against the hiccough." The satire, however, was never written,
for he died soon after. A little before his death, when he observed his
relations and domestics weeping and groaning, he was not much affected,
but humorously told them, "My children, you will never weep for me so
much as I have made you laugh." A few moments before he died, he said,
that "he never thought that it was so easy a matter to laugh at the
approach of death."
The burlesque compositions of Scarron are now neglected by the French.
This species of writing was much in vogue till attacked by the critical
Boileau, who annihilated such puny writers as D'Assoucy and Dulot, with
their stupid admirers. It is said he spared Scarron because his merit,
though it appeared but at intervals, was uncommon. Yet so much were
burlesque verses the fashion after Scarron's works, that the booksellers
would not publish poems, but with the word "Burlesque" in the
title-page. In 1649 appeared a poem, which shocked the pious, entitled,
"The Passion of our Lord, in _burlesque Verses_."
Swift, in his dotage, appears to have been gratified by such puerilities
as Scarron frequently wrote. An ode which Swift calls "A Lilliputian
Ode," consisting of verses of three syllables, probably originated in a
long epistle in verses of three syllables, which Scarron addressed to
Sarrazin. It is pleasant, and the following lines will serve as a
specimen:--
_Epître à M. Sarrazin._
Sarrazin
Mon voisin,
Cher ami,
Qu'à demi,
Je ne voi,
Dont ma foi
J'ai dépit
Un petit.
N'es-tu pas
Barrabas,
Busiris,
Phalaris,
Ganelon,
Le Felon?