Books Fatal to Their AuthorsDitchfield, P. H. (Peter Hampson)
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Books Fatal to Their Authors
Ditchfield, P. H. (Peter Hampson)
Authors; Prohibited books
"Peuple, jadis si fier, aujourd'hui si servile,
Des princes malheureux, tu n'es donc plus l'asyle?"
He happened to be present at the Opera House in Paris when the
young Pretender was arrested, and being indignant at this breach of
hospitality, and believing that the honour of the nation had been
compromised, he wrote these bitter verses. His punishment was severe. He
was arrested and conducted to the gloomy fortress of Mont-Saint-Michel,
where he remained for three long years shut up in the cage. The floor
of this terrible prison, which was enveloped in perpetual darkness, was
only eight square feet. The poor poet bore his sufferings patiently,
and was befriended by M. de Broglie, Abbé of Saint-Michel, who obtained
permission for him to leave his cage and be imprisoned in the Abbey;
nor did he fail to take precautions lest the poor poet should lose his
eyesight on passing from the darkness of the dungeon to the light of
day. The good Abbé finally procured liberty for his captive, who became
secretary to M. de Broglie's brother, and subsequently, on the death of
Madame de Pompadour, commissioner of war. Terrible were the sufferings
which the unhappy Deforges endured on account of his luckless poem.
Théophile was condemned to be burned at Paris on account of his book _Le
Parnasse des Poètes Satyriques, ou Recueil de vers piquans et gaillards
de notre temps_ (1625, in-8), but he contrived to effect his escape.
He was ultimately captured in Picardy, and put in a dungeon. He was
banished from the kingdom by order of the Parliament. In his old age he
found an asylum in the house of the Duke of Montmorency. The poet's real
surname was Viaud. The following impromptu is attributed to Théophile,
who was asked by a foolish person whether all poets were fools:--
"Oui, je l'avoue avec vous,
Que tous les poètes sont fous;
Mais sachant ce que vous êtes,
Tous les fous ne sont pas poètes."
His poems are a mere collection of impieties and obscenities, published
with the greatest impudence, and well deserved their destruction. On one
occasion he travelled to Holland with Balzac, and used this opportunity
for bringing out an infamous charge against him, which he had most
probably invented. His book, the cause of all his woes, was burnt with
the poet's effigy in 1623.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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