Translated from Contes et conteurs gaillards au XVIIIe (1906), a work by Adolphe van Bever.
Jean-Baptiste-Joseph Willart de Grécourt, one of the most prolific, effortless, and famous storytellers of the 18th century, was born in Tours around 1683. On his father’s side, family records suggest he descended from a noble Scottish lineage, forced to settle in France due to misfortune. His mother, from the Ourceau family of Tours, was closely related to the Rouillé family, originally from the same city. These prominent directors of the French postal service were well-regarded for their generosity towards their large family, providing pensions to some and positions to others. Grécourt’s widowed mother, left with several children, managed the postal services in Tours, a position she held until her death.
Jean-Baptiste was the youngest of her children. Destined for the Church from an early age, he went to Paris to study and received religious guidance and solid instruction from his uncle, Germain Willart. At just fourteen years old, in 1697, he was appointed as a canon at the prestigious Church of Saint-Martin in Tours, following the resignation of Abbé Rouillé, a counselor in Parliament. However, his initial attempts at preaching, which included satirical references to certain women in the city, caused such a scandal that he quickly abandoned the pulpit, finding the seriousness of the role unappealing.
Although duty tied him to his position as canon, his love for pleasure continually drew him back to Paris, where his wit and novelty charmed his social circles. Tall, proportionate, with a sun-kissed complexion, sparkling black eyes, a long nose, and a sharp chin, Grécourt soon became a sought-after guest in distinguished homes. A man of leisure, he dedicated himself entirely to good company and the joys of life. Preferring indulgence, social gatherings, and witty conversation to serious matters, he even secured a chaplaincy in Paris—a sinecure that required little effort. He was a frequent guest at the homes of Conti, d’Estrées, and Furstemberg, as well as among French and Italian performers such as the Gaussin and Riccoboni sisters. People vied for the company of this man whose sharp mind and stories added charm to any gathering.
In his youth, Grécourt earned the friendship of the elderly Marshal Duke d’Estrées, who took him annually to the Estates of Brittany, where he served as governor. Despite his connections, Grécourt never sought ambition or relied on flattery. The only official position he ever pursued was as a censor, which he did not obtain, though he had hoped to use the role to promote progressive ideas. When John Law, the famous controller general of finances and a compatriot of Grécourt’s family, urged him to join his ranks, Grécourt declined, responding with a fable, The Hermit and Fortune, which illustrated his character:
A hermit, opposed to restrictions,
And devoted to all forms of pleasure,
Lived happily, free from worries or fear,
With a book, a glass of wine, and his Aminta.
Lady Fortune herself came knocking at his door, crying, “It’s me!”
— “It’s you? Who are you?” — “Open, I command you!”
But he refused. “What?” she exclaimed, “You won’t open for me—
Wealth, power, dignity, and glory—reduced to begging at your door?”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, “but I can’t help you.”
“At least let Desire stay with you,” she insisted.
“I can’t,” answered the hermit. “I have only one bed, and it’s reserved for Pleasure.”
There was no venture in which Grécourt did not succeed with women, whom he considered weaker in morality than in physical strength. He loved women and was loved by them in return. This dynamic, which greatly appealed to his already relaxed spirit, inspired most of his light-hearted works. “If he ever fell out of their favor, they would remind him of one or more of his stories, depending on the nature of his offense, and would punish him by demanding he rewrite it in prose. They granted no favors unless he agreed to this condition. How could he resist? Eager to regain their favor and enjoyment, he would quickly comply, even at the risk of poorly rendering what he had originally imagined well.” It can be assumed that the initial price of their affection was often a story in verse, and it seems unlikely that he delayed in meeting such requests.
Whether driven by true passion or simply good manners, the abbé never upheld any principles other than those of the women he served. Noble, gallant, and refined in the company of upper-class women, where he charmed effortlessly, he occasionally ventured into bourgeois circles, where he was equally well-received. He adapted to every situation, shifted his tone as needed, and believed:
A difficult man is a fool,
Finding everything agreeable is the best way.
To win the favor of a certain hatmaker from Place Maubert, who affected a Jansenist air, he composed the small poem Philolatuis as an attack on the Jesuits. However, a few years later, he became enamored with a beautiful shoemaker who opposed the Jansenists, and in turn, he attacked them on her behalf.
Voltaire, in his Century of Louis XIV, dismissed Grécourt in just three lines and was greatly offended that anyone would compare him to the poet. In a letter dated November 12, 1764, to the Marquis d’Argens of Dirac, he wrote: “I don’t know why you attribute to me a piece by Grécourt that is merely risqué and from which you quote the line:
Love lifts my lectern.
You must surely realize that the thing in question bears no resemblance at all to a lectern. That is not the tone of polite society.”
This is not the place to delve into the definition of what is risqué and what is not. What can be said is that, despite occasional carelessness, but without the malice, Grécourt’s stories perhaps rival Voltaire’s. If some are indeed risqué, they make up for this flaw with poetic grace and the fluidity of pleasing rhymes. At least, this was the opinion of the critical Brossette, who wrote to Rousseau on June 25, 1719: “This is a new kind of burlesque, unlike that of Scarron, Marot, or the style of Le Lutrin. It is closer to the playful character of Chapelle.”
We would have none of Grécourt’s works if not for his friend, M. de Lasseré (Jean Gilles de Lasseré) , known for his connections with Voltaire, Brossette, and Rousseau—who collected copies of them before Grécourt’s death. Grécourt passed away on April 2, 1743, in Tours, where the responsibilities of his canonry occasionally brought him back. Indeed, Grécourt was far from obsessed with the vanity common among literary figures, who are eager to see their works bound in fine leather.
During his lifetime, only one publication of his works appeared: a collection titled Recueil de poésies choisies (Collection of Selected Poems), which included various pieces from different periods. These included risqué poems by Grécourt, the Princess of Conti, and Father Vinet, an Oratorian priest. This collection, assembled by “a cosmopolitan,” was printed in 1735 in quarto format, with a few copies made at the Château de Veretz by the Duke of Aiguillon. It was at this château that the abbé found solace during his required stays in Touraine. The amiable duke did not lead a particularly austere life. There, as Grécourt put it, he discovered “a fountain of youth that never ran dry, a terrestrial paradise—Paris and the court combined—with all the joys of the countryside and his favorite deity, Pleasure.”
Since then, many editions of his works have been published, though none are accurate, and most include works that are not Grécourt’s. These include Le Mondain, La Mule du pape, La Crépinade, Les Piétés épiques by Voltaire, L’Imagination by Chaulieu, Les Misères de l’Amour by Piron, Le Salamalec lyonnais, attributed to La Monnoye, Le Rajeunissement inutile by Moncrif, L’Épitre à Claudine, L’Épitre sur l’hiver by Bernard, and others, not to mention the stanzas on the ch… p… by Mathurin Régnier.
Some of the pieces included here, taken from the Lausanne editions of 1747 and 1750, can still be found in a manuscript once owned by the Countess of Verrue (the famous “Lady of Pleasure”), dated 1706. This manuscript was shared with us by M. Pierre Louÿs, to whom we extend our gratitude.