CORNEILLE. 



233 



tatiort of worth, if excellence-may be estimated from the 

 excellence of those by whom it is praised, what post- 

 humous honour can be greater than his of whom the 

 biographer was Fontenelle, and the eulogist Racine? 



In the private character of Corneille there seems to 

 have been nothing extraordinary. From his writings 

 we may infer that he was a scholar, and that he was 

 abundantly skilled in the literature and lristory of the 

 ancients, lie seems to have been partial to the Ro- 

 mans, whose lofty sentiments and masculine rigidity of 

 heroism he took a peculiar delight in conceiving, and 

 clothing with poetical expression. Seneca, Lucan, and 

 Statins, whose two first Thebaids he translated, are said 

 to have been his favourite authors, which shews that 

 he was less offended with the occasional affectation than 

 with the absence of that stoical grandeur of thought, 

 which these writers seem perpetually straining their 

 genius to produce. Corneille was also well acquainted 

 with the belles letlres and criticism ; but all his studies 

 were made subservient to his ambition of dramatic ex- 

 cellence. In person he was of a good size ; in counte- 

 nance agreeable and strongly marked, especially by the 

 vivacity of his eye; in manner plain and simple; and 

 in dress unaffected or even slovenly. To elocution he 

 had few pretensions, and in reciting his own verses, 

 though emphatic, he was ungraceful. In conversation, 

 he was neither elegant nor interesting, and disappoint- 

 ed the expectations which might have been formed 

 from his writings. He was one of that high order of 

 poets, whose faculties are elevated at times to a mea- 

 sure of exertion too violent to endure, and in whom ex- 

 traordinary activity requires corresponding repose. He 

 was an example therefore of that unaccountable dispa- 

 rity, which Professor Stewart had remarked in the case 

 of other poets, between their general powers, and the 

 inspirations of their more favoured moments. But 

 though the conversation of Corneille had few attrac- 

 tions, his dramatic celebrity was sufficient to render his 

 society an object of eager desire in the most polished 

 circles. In Trance, at that period, the most fashionable 

 manners were supposed to include a certain portion of 

 literary ta te. Where this did not exist, it was pre- 

 tended, and the pretence maintained by a shew of en- 

 thusiastic admiration of men of genius, who were thus 

 secured from that neglect to which they are destined in 

 countries where no such fashion prevails. Corneille, 

 therefore, as the father of the drama, and the boast of 

 the nation, had his choice of society, and the most il- 

 lustrious assemblies of nobles.se felt themselves receiving, 

 rather than conferring, distinction by his presence, 

 which they thought would be interpreted into an au- 

 thentic acknowledgment that they possessed, not only 

 the titles, but the accomplishments of their rank. His 

 pieces were frequently read before representation at the 

 H »/ de i-amb ■uillet, to a circle of courtly critics; and 

 we learn from Madame Sevigne that, even in his old 

 age, he continued to gratify the celebrated characters 

 ©f the day, with the first communication of his works. 

 " Nothing," says that accomplished lady, " will ever 

 come up to the enchanting passages, we meet with in 

 Corneille. He read us, the other day, at M. de la Roche- 

 faucauld's, a piece of his which shewed what he had 

 once been. It cost me many tears." (Letter 1 24.) " Cor- 

 neille," she says again, " has read a piece of his to 

 amuse Cardinal de Retz It reminds me greatly of the 

 beauties of the ancients." (Letter 139.) Such was the 

 veneration which Corneille enjoyed, and such the plea- 

 Sure he could impart, at an age when the power of gi- 



VOL. VII. PART I. 



ving pleasure is generally extinct. In his moral cha- 

 racter he seems to have been unexceptionable, and to 

 have escaped the singularities in which genius too fre- 

 quently thinks itself privileged to indulge. He was an 

 exemplary husband, father, and relation ; and the keen 

 sensibility, which enlivened his representation of the 

 heroic passions, gave him a warmth of manner, in assert- 

 ing his independence, which approached occasional! v 

 to roughness ; for he had from nature a loftiness of spi- 

 rit, and disdain of supple servility, which, in his Roman 

 characters, enabled him to paint from himself. He had 

 a rooted aversion to business, in consequence of which, 

 though he received considerable sums for his writings, 

 he never was rich. His means of subsistence were de- 

 rived chiefly from his pen ; and in his latter years, from 

 a pension granted by Louis XIV. T iiis was, at one 

 time, about to be withdrawn, which Boileau prevented, 

 by offering to relinquish his own pension in favour of 

 the venerable dramatist This offer, so honourable to 

 Corneille, does no less honour to Boileau, who, though 

 warmly attached to Racine, was ready to have made so 

 great a sacrifice for the rival of his friend Corneille 

 was deterred, both by his taste and by his principles 

 of religion, from copying, except in his first attempts, 

 the licentiousness of his predecessors ; and the French 

 stage is thus indebted to him for exalting its character, 

 both by the moral and poetical superiority of his com- 

 positions 



In considering his genius, its extent must be estima- 

 ted from the best of his works, and from the state at 

 which the art of poetry had arrived, when he began to 

 write. The last criterion is peculiarly important; for it 

 often happens, in art as well as science, that the previ- 

 ous approaches to some capital invention have been so- 

 close, as to entitle its author to the praise, rather of a 

 fortune, than of an ability superior to his predecessors. 

 In each step there may have been equal difficulty; but to 

 him who makes the last, by which some augmentation is 

 produced to human enjoyment, the triumph is reserved, 

 Where excellence, therefore, has been attained without 

 the help of such preparatory approximations, a mental 

 effort must have been made, proportioned to this defect; 

 and Homer, Milton, and Corneille, may claim a double 

 share of admiration, as having reached, in the earliest 

 age of their national poetry, a perfection which none of 

 their successors have maintained. Before the appear- 

 ance of Corneille, the French drama was in so rude a 

 state, that the names of Jodelle, Gamier, and Hardy, 

 who immediately preceded him, are preserved chiefly to 

 illustrate the extent and rapidity of his improvements. 

 He first conceived the idea of following the rules and 

 examples of the ancients, and of applying them to a 

 greater variety of subjects; and even in his initiatory 

 attempts, this conception was executed with success. 

 Comedies, consisting chiefly of farcical mistakes, with- 

 out the slightest attention to manners, character, or 

 plot, and tragedies no less unskilful in design than flat 

 in composition, our author superseded by productions^ 

 which, addressing the most universal feelings of nature, 

 were equally interesting to the highest and the lowest 

 of the auditors. Corneille seems to have delighted in 

 the conflict of the most powerful passions; and when 

 he gives the triumph to those which, in ordinary cha- 

 racters, are weakest, — when he makes the desire of 

 avenging a departed parent overcome the most ardent 

 affection for a living lover, — he shews a confidence in his 

 genius, which was justified by success. A drama is the 

 relation, in dialogue, of some extraordinarv occurrence 

 2g 



Corneille. 



