New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1875-03-14

-
by his wife; and he showed it even mort
plainly than did the esssyist. His mind
, too, like that of Rabelais and of MOntaigne
reached very late its season of fruit bear
ing. We seem to have known, hitherto
but little Of the quality of La FOntaine's
genius. It has been customary to speak Of
him as merely q writer of fables, while the
truth is he wrote the best of short stories
France has ever produced best, mean
in point Of literary merit, for they were
as wicked as they were witty.
| La FOntaine was always the prOtege of
somebody or other. 1t was the great Fou-
quet, whom he met when he was q little
past thirty. who first made life delightful to
him. Fouquet discovered that La Fontaine
wrote very clever vcrs de SOciete, and SO gave
him pension on the easy condition of a
ballad once quarter. Fouquet liked the
poor butterfly Of the muses. think every
one liked him, unless it was Nine. La FOn-
tame, and, indeed, she must have liked him
too, for she always received him when he
went back to her. She saw little of him
during the nine years in which he wrote
ballads tor FOuquet-the happy, too happy
/ wears of mirth and music, and bright ewes
| and good wine, and all that human butter
| fl most delights in. But the crash came.
] Fououet was undermined by Colbert and
the cardinal and thrown into prison, and at
forty two poor La FOntaine found himself
| without protectors butterfly on whom
| the sun had ceased to shine.
| Of course he went home to his wife-is
not misfortune the parent of virtue! and
| he spent the next two or three years enact
| ing the role OF husband and father, taking
very frequent runs to Paris, however. At
forty-five he had published nothing beyond
one publishing comedy. But then he made
two powerful friends-the Dowager Duchess
of Orleans, who made him one of the gen.
A. hold nd In
and beautiful Duchess de BOuillon, who
sometimes resided at Chateau Thierry,
where were established the household gods
of La FOntaine. 1t was to entertain this
pretty Duchess de BouillOn that La FOn-
Jaine first began to write his tales and
fables. He published his first collection of
fables when he was in his forty eighth year.
popular writer in France. No one had writ
ten like him before. His style was so utter
ly unaffected, SO bright and clear, that it
charmed all who read. His work was most
carefully finished. Pleasure lover as he
was, he valued his art too highly to serve
it carelessiy-he would give to the world
that had been so kind to him nothing but
his best.
Fifteen years passed on, and he had got
himself separated quietly and without
scandal from his wife. Once, indeed, Boz
leau wrought upon his conscience, and per-
suaded him to 60 to Chateau Thierry and
seek to be reconciled to her. La FOntaine
made the journey dutifully-he was apt to
do what his friends told him-but when he
got there madam was in church. This was
an emergency tor which Boileau had mot
provided. Had not fate itself interposed to
prevent the reconciliation? La FoAtaine
thought SO, and back he went to Paris,
serene in the conscious virtue OF one who
had done his best.
His duchess died, after awhile, but he
found other protectors; and he lived his old,
gay life until he was seventy-two and then
pain found him, and death threatened him,
and he made haste to repent. His repent
ance must have been sincere. for when his
confessor told him how much harm his tales
had done, he burst into childlike tears and
offered to give the profits of the next edition
to the church! He died very peacefully at
last, in the arms of Racine; and everybody
for him, as they would not for
many better man. do not see that he
had q single virtue-he was bad husband,
, careless father, selfish friend. He had
evaded all his responsibilities except those
which made him a conscientious worker,
faithful to his art Yet he had been what
We call 'lovable' man. l suppose it was
,he childlikeness of his nature-the merry,
hooking, careless, nnforseeing spirit of him
which made grave men delight in him.
He could not have been all bad when
senelon, the most virtuous man of his time,
,urst into tears at his death.
One portrait mOre-the last and best
md then we Will 60 out of the gallery; that
# Beranger. Beranger was as generous
md unseltish as Montaigne and La Fon-
aine were selfish. His Lille was tender and
modest and beautiful as the sweetest of his
ongs. and he held the secret of it SO shyly
hat one hardly feels free to raise the cur
ain now. He was born in 1880, and his
ather and mOther-whO seem to have sep
rated soon after his birth-both abandoned
i'm to the care of his maternal grand
arents. At best, that boys childhood
miles. Some of the deep, underlying, SYM
athletic tenderness of Beranger's nature
lay have dated back to those sad early
avs when he may have half blindly pitied
imsef.
When he was fifteen years old, his father,
7hO had then patched up some sort of
eace with his mother. sent for him. The
sther was red-hot royalist. and sort of
aIker or broker, and young Beranger
n business. But the crash of 1898 ended
Il that, and Beranger found himself
randed in garnet, where, at last, he was
zee, and where he must have been happy.
ecause he began then to write his immortal
,ngs. 1t was at this time that he formed
'me friendships, which lasted till death,
18th other young fellows as poor as himself,
lthOrs and musicians. They made little
ties, these comrades, when their purses
lowed. and the lower their fortunes the
ore they laughed at them.
But in lS0i Beranger, twenty four years
d at that time, got little tired of starry
&, and wrote to Lucien Bonaparte, inclos-
z a bundle of verses Luclen sent for
IN, received him kindly, and put him in
re way of a little income of $40 a year.
g soon added to this go more, the salary
hich the painter Lander paid him for ed
ing his Musee. hundred and ten pounds
year was atiiuence for Beranger, for it
I've him the power to help others. always
e greatest delight of his life. He could
Divide for his poor old grandmother, and
his sister, whom he subsequently put in
convent at her own wish After three
'ars his work for Landon was done, and
lly the $40 secured to him by I.ucien re-
aimed. But on the foundation of the In
rial University, in 1903, he obtained en-
oyment as one Ut the clerks, with salary
loco francs. Eighty pounds year in
1T was no great riches; but it enhanced
9 regret at the death of his scamp of a
Their, for he said, "Now could have made
III more comfortable"
He was thirty three when he published
g first collection of bis songs. You see
:, too, began late. And he never was
oiltic writer-ten songs, perhaps, in
ar; carefully revised. altered, improved.
lis was his work-at least, the work bv
1ich the world knows and will know him:
d his life was in his work and his love.
Beranger had no fickleness or faithless.
SIS OF nature. Frenchman though he was.
: loved one woman all his life Was she
Wlfe, or only his friendl Conjecture ia