N the seventeenth century French literature expanded in so many different directions and found expression through so many authors of all ranks, that considerable addition must be made to the examples already given.* It is not baseless flattery which has given to the reign of Louis XIV. the glorious title of the Golden Age of French literature. The greatest genius of that time, whose power was acknowledged, though his true greatness was not fully recognized in his own day, must here be discussed and exemplified. Molière, in spite of the hundred obstacles thrown in his way by the authorities of the Church and State, by the prejudices of society and literature, succeeded by pure force of wit and fidelity to nature in achieving a glorious triumph. Palpable as was his success in his lifetime, it was not equal to that which his works have since accomplished. The supreme tribunal of the Academy, which refused to admit him to a seat in its sacred precincts, has since acknowledged that this failure was no loss to his glory, but the absence of his name is a perpetual reproach to its judgment. Molière won victories not only on the French stage, but even on the English, for his style of play-writing has practically prevailed since it was introduced into English by his imitators. His success was due to the fact that he "held the mirror up to nature; showed virtue her own feature, scorn * See Volume V., pp. 254-304. her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.” Another genius, more exclusively of the comic kind, was the mirth-provoking hunchback, Paul Scarron. He was bold enough to declare that he could bestow immortality on the penniless orphan who, in gratitude for his charity, accepted him as her husband. She won the glittering prize indeed, but in another way than as faithful nurse of the grievously afflicted author, for by her prudence and virtue she won her way to be queen of France in all but name. Another noted woman of this time was the greatest of all French letter-writers. In her sprightly familiar epistles Madame de Sévigné has given a more vivid picture of the court of which the Grand Monarque was the central luminary than can be obtained from the professed historians. Two writers of this period revived peculiar Greek styles: La Bruyère, tutor in the Condé family, having translated the "Characters" of Theophrastus, was emboldened to add a larger number drawn from life; the elegant Marquis de La Rochefoucauld retired from court to compose pithy, polished "Maxims," which embody not the principles that men should observe, but those which actually governed the human world around him. To the foregoing may be added merely the names of SaintÉvremond (1610-1703), whose epicurean philosophy is revealed in his "Portraits," and who had a curious effect on the history of English letters; Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, instigator of the Fronde, who was one of the great memoirwriters of the century; and Louis de Rouvroy, Duc de Saint-Simon (1675-1755), who has been styled "the most vivid and graphic painter of contemporary history of the anecdotic kind in the French or any other language." He was one of the council of regency of Louis XV., and a persistent stickler for his order of the peers (l'affaire du bonnet). He traced his ancestry back to Charlemagne. His "Memoirs" treat of the last part of the reign of the Grand Monarque and the beginning of that of Louis XV. (a period in all of about thirty years). PAUL SCARRON. OF Scarron's title to be the founder of modern burlesque, Sir Walter Besant has said: "The earliest writer of burlesque would be, I suppose, Aristophanes; the next, of those whose works are preserved, Lucian. Then burlesque sleeps. Pulci half awakens it in his 'Morgante Maggiore,' which is a kind of burlesque. But it is not till Scarron that it really wakes again. . . . In place of yawning with the rest, he took down the chief god of the old idols, Virgil, and set his troupe of gods and heroes on the modern stage, making them talk the language of the marketplace and the barracks; and all the world, bursting into a Gargantuan roar of laughter, rushed to imitate their leader, and everybody wrote burlesque." Paul Scarron (1610-1660) is the pitiable Punchinello of all literature. Not actually hump-backed, he was, at the age of twenty-eight, a helpless cripple as the result of a mad carnival-time prank, while even an abbé. He compared himself to the letter Z, and declared that he was "an abridgment of human miseries." To Sarasin he described himself in humorous verse as "a poor fellow, very thin, with a wry neck, whose body quite twisted, quite hump-backed, aged, fleshless, reduced day and night to suffer, without being cured, many vehement torments." To the bitter end he made a jest of his miseries; even when left penniless he petitioned the queen to be appointed "Queen's invalid by right of office." His motto was, "Bonne mine et fort mauvais jeu" (Put a good face on losing game). Kind-hearted at the core, this queer, ugly little wit took an interest in the friendless, prison-born girl, Françoise D'Aubigné. He offered to pay her way into a convent or to marry her. She chose the latter alternative. When the notary inquired concerning her dowry, Scarron replied: "Two great mutinous eyes, a handsome bust, a pair of lovely hands, and plenty of wit." Questioned as to his settlement on her, he answered, “Immortality. Other names may perish; that of Scarron's wife will remain for ever." As Critic Van Laun remarks on this romantic episode: "Scarron was right; but another vied with Scarron in giving immortality to Françoise, who is better known to fame as Madame de Maintenon, the wife of Louis XIV." She made Scarron a devoted wife and nurse, however, till death ended his wreck nine years after this wedding. His small, mean rooms were turned into a salon in which she reigned as queen. As for Scarron's works, it is unnecessary to enlarge on his travesty of Virgil, or on his comedies. While he invented French burlesque, the name was invented by his friend Sarasin, from "burla”—a jest. In his plays he introduced Crispin, who became to the French stage what Harlequin was to that of Italy. Crispin is a witty, impudent, boasting valet. In Scarron's "L'Hypocrite" (1654), a “tragi-comique," we see the original of Molière's "Tartuffe" (1667). Scarron's "Roman Comique," in which he told realistically the (unfinished) history of a troupe of strolling players, gave birth to the imitations of Le Sage and Fielding. La Fontaine has woven this story into a comedy, while Goldsmith has made an English version of the highly amusing romance-the Odyssey of the mummers. Scarron left his own epitaph, as follows: "He who sleeps here now, Caused more pity than envy, And suffered a thousand deaths Before losing his life. Passer-by, do not make any noise here, And take care not to awake him, For this is the first night That poor Scarron slumbers." PAUL SCARRON. OF Scarron's title to be the founder of modern burlesque, Sir Walter Besant has said: "The earliest writer of burlesque would be, I suppose, Aristophanes; the next, of those whose works are preserved, Lucian. Then burlesque sleeps. Pulci half awakens it in his 'Morgante Maggiore,' which is a kind of burlesque. But it is not till Scarron that it really wakes again. In place of yawning with the rest, he took down the chief god of the old idols, Virgil, and set his troupe of gods and heroes on the modern stage, making them talk the language of the marketplace and the barracks; and all the world, bursting into a Gargantuan roar of laughter, rushed to imitate their leader, and everybody wrote burlesque.” Paul Scarron (1610-1660) is the pitiable Punchinello of all literature. Not actually hump-backed, he was, at the age of twenty-eight, a helpless cripple as the result of a mad carnival-time prank, while even an abbé. He compared himself to the letter Z, and declared that he was "an abridgment of human miseries." To Sarasin he described himself in humorous verse as "a poor fellow, very thin, with a wry neck, whose body quite twisted, quite hump-backed, aged, fleshless, reduced day and night to suffer, without being cured, many vehement torments." To the bitter end he made a jest of his miseries; even when left penniless he petitioned the queen to be appointed "Queen's invalid by right of office." His motto was, "Bonne mine et fort mauvais jeu" (Put a good face on losing game). Kind-hearted at the core, this queer, ugly little wit took an interest in the friendless, prison-born girl, Françoise |