When, at the end of 1664, the second list of donations to authors and wits appeared—awarded by Colbert upon the recommendation of Chapelain,—it presented again, like the one of the preceding year, a mixture of feeble and profuse poetasters and of writers of outstanding value. Corneille, Racine and Molière contrasted oddly with Benserade, Cassagne, or Cotin. As in 1663, some of the most quarrelsome watchdogs of contemporary literature—La Serre, Furetière, and the brothers Boileau,—had been forgotten, intentionally or not. Chapelain, always over-anxious to please everybody and the minister, had committed a tactical mistake in excluding these satiric wits. That they would attack him at once was quite consistent with the literary customs of the time and with the habits of the Genus irritabile of all centuries. Moreover, his name was a symbol of a passing generation in literature, against which the New School was arrayed in battle. The first epigrams against Pucelain were coined, no doubt, during the gay after-dinner hours in one of the renowned Cabarets, or during an animated discussion in one of the literary drawing-rooms. When their authors or the listeners took the pains of noting them down, they were circulated in more or less reliable manuscripts and generally attributed to several among the literati. There can be no doubt that the greater number of these ephemeral satires, parodies, vaudevilles, and the like, have perished; others have remained unpublished. The best known among these satires is the celebrated Cid parody, Chapelain décoiffé, which, composed glass in hand at a riotous feast, was soon recited everywhere and handed around in numerous copies—to the lasting dishonor of Chapelain's venerable wig and of the mediocrities he steadfastly protected.