Poetry and Power: Théophile’s “Franchise” and the Limits of Clientage, 1621–1623

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In 1623, Theophile de Viau is burned in effigy, then arrested and imprisoned on charges of lese-majeste divine. The catalyst for this persecution is a sonnet on the first page of the Parnasse Satryique, an anthology of bawdy poems. The sonnet begins: Philis, tout est foutu, je meure de la verole [Phyllis, we're done for, I'm dying of the clap]. And the final tercet declares: Mon Dieu, je me repens d'avoir si mal vecu: Et si votre courroux a ce coup ne me tue, fais voeu desormais de ne foutre qu'en cul. (1) [Dear God, I repent for my evil ways, and if your anger does not kill me with this blow, I vow henceforth to do it only in the butt.] Once we have put our own laughter or disapproval aside, it is difficult for us to see how this example of Gallic wit could be seriously taken as divine lese majesty, and it is still more incredible that poetry could matter enough in public discourse to merit punishment. One feels there is something more at stake here than Theophile's penchant for speaking what ought to be left unspoken. Bawdy poems of this type were not unusual. Perhaps if we more fully understand the different nature and function of poetry in early seventeenth-century France, and the connections between poetry and power politics, we can grasp the rationale behind the seemingly disproportionate response to Theophile's sonnet. It is not a question of pleading Theophile's case, nor of tracing with the benefit of hindsight the series of missteps that led to his condemnation. The real issue is how we characterize the image that Theophile's poetry gives us of himself, because evidence suggests that the judicial and inquisitorial machines take the salaciously delightful sonnet to present a faithful image of the poet's character: Theophile is accused of being a libertine, i.e. a free-thinker with un orthodox ideas and questionable morals. (2) Neither Theophile's public denials nor his many other poems proclaiming orthodox values seem able to undo this image which confirms his reputation. If anything, the opposite is true: the more he denies and the more orthodox his other poems appear, the more Theophile seems a hypocrite. So what we want to know is how Theophile's poetry configures an image of his character, or what amounts to the same thing, how the social milieu in which Theophile lived and wrote contributes to the identification of an image with the poet's character. In my opinion, the characterization of Theophile as a libertine or a rebel misses the mark. (3) Theophile is product and prisoner of the clientage system, that is, the client-patron relationship, which subordinates the lesser to the greater nobility by the bonds of loyalty through patronage. His poetic conception of franchise (frankness-spontaneity-independence) subverts the contractual terms of this system, and in doing so produces an image of the poet's character which is easily misconstrued. The System of Clientage If we want to reevaluate the image that Theophile's poetry gives us of his character, we will have to look beyond the poetry's first-person pronoun. It is not just that the first-person pronoun is a linguistic shifter, lending its subjective force to various objects, including ourselves. It is not just that Je est un autre. It's rather that early seventeenth-century French poets often wrote poetry on demand. As Theophile himself complains, he makes a living by writing des vers pour un amant / Qui se veut faire aider peindre son tourment [verses for a lover / Who wants help painting his passion in words]. (4) A passionate and seemingly direct first-person declaration, Eloigne de tes yeux off j'ai laisse mon eme,/Je n'ai de sentiment que celui du malheur [Far from your eyes, where I have left my soul, / The only thing I feel is unhappiness], (5) has most likely been written for a great noble, who then presents it as if it were his own words. …