Part 26

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."

The last couplet contains a compliment to the bishop of Aleth, who 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.]