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.
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.