■^32 



CORNEILLE. 



1 ornaiile-, minor writers, and converted into attempts at censure 

 > — "Y"""" the disposition which they had shewn to applaud its 

 author, when he appeared to rise only a little above 

 the ordinary level. Even the celebrated Richelieu, 

 whose ravenous ambition sought to add poetical to po- 

 litical distinction, could not conceal the chagrin with 

 which he saw his dramatic efforts outshone ; and did 

 not blush to engage a host of critics to depreciate a 

 work, which he could not prevent himself from both 

 admiring and rewarding. He thus presented the sin- 

 gular spectacle of a man, who was in some respects the 

 greatest of his age, sinking to unexampled littleness 

 in his feelings of literary rivalship, and labouring in- 

 sidiously to make the public reverse his own judgment, 

 and condemn him for bestowing rewards, the justice 

 of which was powerfully attested by the envy which 

 prompted so mean and inconsistent a conduct. Of all 

 the attacks upon Le Cid, the most able was that of 

 Scudery, who proposed that the French Academy should 

 be umpires in the controversy; and Corneille, pro- 

 bably from the fear of offending so powerful a bene- 

 factor as Richelieu, having consented to this reference, 

 the opinion of the Academy was delivered, with ad- 

 mirable address, in a critique which gratified the Car- 

 dinal, by admitting the faults of the piece ; and the 

 public, by. touching them with lenity, occasionally ris- 

 ing into admiration. We have reason to suspect that 

 Richelieu was aided in this disgraceful intrigue by ano- 

 ther person of high rank, from the following expres- 

 sion of Corneille, in a letter to one of his friends, con- 

 cerning the success of Horace, which was the next 

 piece he produced ; Horace, he says, fut condamnc par 

 les Duumvirs, mats il fut absout par le penp/e. The 

 poet, indeed, could not fail to resent the contemptible 

 conduct of his patron, though prudence made him dis- 

 semble his indignation, as he acknowledged, after the 

 death of Richelieu, in the following epigram : 

 QiCon parte mat ou bien dufameux Cardinal, 

 Ma prost ni mes vers n'en dirant jamais rien ; 

 II nC 'a fait trop de bien pour en dire du mat, 

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



Notwithstanding the powerful efforts to depreciate Le 

 Cid, its popularity continued such as to create the pro- 

 verbial phrase, when the singular perfection of any 

 thing was to be strongly expressed, // est beau cemme 

 le Cid. Animated by success, Corneille became a dili- 

 gent writer for the theatre, and the enumeration of his 

 works is therefore the best record of his life. In the 

 following list we subjoin to each play the date of its first 

 representation. Melile,l625; Clitandre, 1632; La Veuve, 

 1634. To the first edition of this play were subjoined 

 complimentary verses addressed to the author by Bois- 

 robert, Douville, du Ryer, Scudery, and others. La Ga- 

 lene du Palais, LaSuivante, La Place Roy ale, and Le Cid, 

 1637; Medee and V Illusion Comique, 1639; Horace, 

 1641 ; China, 1643; Polyeuctc Le Menletir, and La Mart 

 de Pompe.e, 1644; La Suite du Mcnteur, 1645; Theodore, 

 1646; Rodogiuie and Heraclius, 1647. It was in this 

 year Corneille became a member of the French Aca- 

 demy. D. Savche d'Arragon, 1650; Andromede and 

 Nicomede, 165\ ; Pertharite, 1651. This piece was so 

 much disapproved of that its author became disgusted, 

 and for some years wrote nothing for the theatre. 

 (Edipe, 1659; La Toisond'Or, l66l; Sertorius, 1662; 

 Sophonisbe, 1663; Olhon, 1665 ; Agesilaus, 1666. At 

 this period Racine made his appearance as a dramatic 

 poet, and Corneille perceived a considerable alienation 

 t»f the public preference, which he had hitherto mono- 



polized. Altila, 166S; Tile el Berenice, 1671; Pul- Comeilir. 

 cheria, 1673; and Surena, 1675. The admiration which ""T"™' 

 Corneille had procured by Le Cid was sustained, and 

 even augmented, by a few of his subsequent produc- 

 tions, such as China, Horace, and especially Polyeucte; 

 though his genius was so unequal, that most of the rest 

 did not exceed, and some did not reach mediocrity. 

 Such, at least, is the opinion of Voltaire, who says, that 

 only six or seven of Corneille's dramas continue to be 

 represented, and that pardon must be gained by these 

 for above twenty, which, except in a few passages, are 

 the worst of the French plays, not only in point of style, 

 but from barrenness of intrigue, misplaced amours, and 

 wire-drawn dialogues. Theodore and Don Sanche ha- 

 ving been coldly received, and Pertharite absolutely 

 damned, their author embraced, from chagrin as has 

 been already noticed, and intimated in the preface to 

 Pertharite, a resolution, for which he gave his age as 

 the ostensible reason, of ceasing to write for the theatre. 

 He then took the opportunity of engaging in religious 

 studies, to which he had always been disposed, and 

 translated into verse the treatise of Thomas a Kempis 

 de imilatione Christi. This translation, chiefly we pre- 

 sume from the name of the writer, became so popular 

 as to pass through 32 editions ; a fact, says V oltaire, as 

 difficult to believe, as it is to read the work. After six 

 years of self-denial, Corneille, was prevailed upon by M. 

 Fouquet, then minister of the finances, to return to the 

 drama, and made a trial of his powers in the (Edipe, of 

 which the subject was suggested by his adviser. This 

 piece being received with applause, he continued to in- 

 dulge his natural bias to dramatic composition, till his 

 70th year. On his reconciliation with the theatre, he 

 found the public warmly prepossessed in favour of the 

 new character which had been communicated to the 

 drama by Racine. The latter excelling in tenderness 

 and in the plaintive and elegant expression of sensibi- 

 lity, made love the master-passion in most of his plots ; 

 but Corneille, conceiving this to be a descent from dra- 

 matic dignity, and naturally preferring the style in 

 which he was conscious of excellence, selected fables, 

 where patriotism, valour, and other stern and stately 

 virtues, Avere the principles of action. The change of 

 taste which his rival had created, by leading him to ex- 

 amine and deny its justice, confirmed his original de- 

 termination ; and instead of following the popular ex- 

 ample of Racine, he seems to have rebuked its admirers, 

 by the subjects which he chose for the last series of his 

 productions, and especially by challenging their favour 

 to an exhibition of the savage and ferocious energies of 

 Attila, the barbarian. The people, however, did not 

 relish this defiance ; and though the remains of former 

 favour rendered them indulgent to his faults, the epi- 

 thet of " old Corneille," by which he began to be dis- 

 tinguished, proves that, even in his lifetime, they had 

 consigned him to the class of obsolete and unfashion- 

 able poets. On finally renouncing the theatre, Cor- 

 neille employed all his thoughts in preparing himself 

 to die like a Christian ; and for this pious duty he was 

 allowed more leisure than he had a. title to expect, as 

 his death did not happen till the 1st October 1684, 

 when he was in his 79th year. The respect which he 

 enjoyed had previously been shewn, by his election to 

 the Deanry of the French Academy ; and his elogc 

 was pronounced before that dignified body, by his 

 amiable and admirable dramatic rival. Many other en- 

 comiums were contributed by his eminent contempo- 

 raries : and if laudari a laudato viro be the best attest 



