616 Corneille ; his Life and Writings. QDec 



that he thought himself fortunate in being required to give no more than 

 his consent, and that in favour of a son-in-law who was protected by the 

 cardinal ; and Corneille was shortly afterwards married. His marriage 

 did not divert him from a pursuit which., besides its own attractions, 

 had now become absolutely necessary to him as a means of subsistence. 

 He produced the tragedy of Poli/eiicte, founded on the martyrdom of one 

 of the early Christians, which was condemned by the coterie of I'Hotel 

 de Rambouillet, and infinitely applauded by all Paris beside. Notwith- 

 standing that he was therefore somewhat under the ban of this infaUible 

 tribunal, he was selected Avith others, the best poets of the time, to write 

 madrigals for a collection of flower-drawings, which the Duke de 

 IMontansier presented to Julie de Angennes, as a new-year's-gift, when 

 lie was soliciting her hand. This piece of amorous foolery was got up 

 in the most expensive and elegant manner, the di-awings were by the 

 best miniature-painter of the court, and it was considered as the most 

 tasteful and gallant thing of the kind that had ever been devised. 



La Mort de Pompec was his next tragedy, whicli neither gained nor de- 

 served so much success as some of his others. He was more fortunate in 

 a comedy entitled Le Meiitcur, for which he was indebted to a Spanish 

 original (La Sospechosa Verdad of Pedro de Roxas, as it is supposed), 

 and which, like the Cid in tragedy, was the first genuine comedy that 

 liad been seen on the French stage. An anecdote of JMoliere, connected 

 with the subject of this comedy, is better than the most elaborate criti- 

 cism. The great comic poet (the greatest beyond question that France 

 has ever produced) was in conversation with Boileau. — " Yes, my dear 

 Despreaux," said he, " I owe much to Le Menteur. When it appeared, I 

 had long had an inclination to write ; but I was undecided what I ought 

 to attempt ; my ideas were altogether uncertain until that play settled 

 them. The dialogue taught me how polite persons ought to be made 

 to converse on the stage ; the grace and wit of Dorante convinced me 

 that a hero, to excite real interest, should be well bred ; the sang froid 

 with which he utters his falsehoods shewed me the necessity of esta- 

 blishing an individual character ; the scene in which he forgets the ficti- 

 tious name he has given himself, enlightened me on the subject of true 

 pleasantry ; and that in which he is obliged to fight, in consequence of 

 his lies, proved to me that all comedies ought to have a moral conclu- 

 sion. In short, but for Le Menteur, 1 dare say I should have produced 

 some pieces of intrigue — L'Etourdi, Le Depit Amoureux, perhaps ; but 

 I doubt whether I should ever have written Le Misanthrope." — " Em- 

 brace me !" replied Despreaux ; " such a confession is worth the best 

 comedy." La Suite du Menteur, taken from a play of Lope de Vega, 

 followed, but was coldly received. 



Soon after the first appearance of Le Menteur, Richelieu died, and 

 Corneille wrote the foP owing epigram on him : — 



" Qu'on parle mal ou bien du fameux cardinal. 



Ma prose, ni mes vers, n'en diront jamais rien ; 

 II m'a fait trop de bien pour en dire du mal : 

 II m'a fait trop de mal pour en dire du bien." 



It woiild have been well if he had kept to this resolution ; but he soon 

 afterwards wrote a sonnet on the death of Louis XIII., in which he 

 abused the cardinal dead, as grossly as he had flattered him in his dedi- 

 cations when alive. If he exercised this vengeance only because he was 



