best of the barren field which he had chosen. He daily acquired greater industry, but his art remained stationary at nearly the same point; and Corneille had as yet succeeded only in showing what he could do in a style of composition in which excellence could be attained by no one." In 1635 appeared his first tragedy, 'Medea," which contains more than one indication of the energetic conciseness, and close comprehensive reasoning, which soon became distinguishing features of this celebrated writer. A single passage of intense power and simple expression, in the words of Voltaire, "announced the advent of Corneille." It seems strange, that after this decided movement in advance, he should fall back into comedy, of which

body to protect and govern. But with progressive strength, they soon rose beyond the necessity of individual patronage, and vindicated their right to be what they became, an integral part of the nation. After a few years they belonged to France, rather than to their original founder, or his more liberal successor, Louis the Fourteenth. M. Guizot remarks justly of the great Cardinal, "He granted to literature an active protection, the influence of which upon the literature of his own time has, perhaps, been exaggerated, but the effect of which upon succeeding generations cannot be disregarded." The letters patent, which gave to the Academy position and permanence, were registered by the Parliament of Paris in 1637. From that date, this erudite body assumed a dictator-"L'Illusion Comique" affords a very inferior ship as arbiters and dispensers of literary fame, but always subject to sarcasm and detraction from disappointed applicants, who failed to obtain admission into their ranks. Like all other public institutions, they were not invariably impartial or judicious in the selection of members. Piron being excluded, revenged himself, by a keen irony in the form of an epitaph :

"Ci git Piron, qui ne fût rien;

Pas même-Académicien."

Pierre Corneille was born at Rouen in 1606. He was intended for the bar, but he fell in love, and so (according to his nephew, Fontenelle) became a poet. His present biographer attaches little importance to this alleged source of his genius. He says, "Love taught him merely to rhyme, and to string rhymes together was a very small matter for Corneille." The extraordinary success of his first dramatic attempt, "Melite," established his name, and determined the color of his future life. Celebrated now as the first tragic writer of his country, he commenced his career by a succession of six comedies, long since forgotten. "Melite" appeared in 1629, when Corneille was only in his twenty-third year. At this time Shakspeare had been dead nearly thirteen years, and Lope de Vega had retired from the field, exhausted with the labor of eighteen hundred dramas. Speaking of Corneille's pretensions at this early period, M. Guizot observes, "His mind enlarged daily, but he had not yet discovered the great and legitimate use of his increasing powers; instead of turning his attention to that inexhaustible source, the observation of nature, he wasted his strength in efforts to make the

specimen. This fall is the more remarkable, as it occurred when his mind must have been busy with the "Cid," which was produced in 1636. That event constituted an era in the dramatic history of France, and fixed the superiority of Corneille on a foundation. which has never been undermined. He was then thirty, in the meridian of mental vigor, and this effort of his genius has been held up by many able critics, not only as his master-piece, but as the pride and boast of their national drama. The success of its reception was most enthusiastic; it entirely occupied the conversation of general society; passages committed to memory were in everybody's mouth; and "that is as fine as the Cid" soon became a colloquial expression for any thing of unexpected excellence. It was not likely that such a triumph should pass on without exciting the envy and jealousy of a host of distanced competitors, who were unwilling to subside quietly into oblivion, under the extinguishing blaze of a more brilliant light than their own. A petty feeling, unworthy of the abilities or high position of Richelieu, but instigated by literary self-love, induced him to give countenance to this useless cabal. The famous criticism of the French Academy, equally unjust and severe, was suggested by his influence, prepared under his supervision, and suspected to have been composed in part by himself. The servile complaisance of the Academy in this instance must be recorded to their enduring shame:

Corneille was not slow in discovering his own strength, as much from the bitterness his success created, as from innate perception and comparison.* But he was poor, strug

* Scudéry, Bois-Robert, Claveret, and a host of

gling for subsistence as well as fame, and in |
receipt of a pension from the Cardinal. He
dared not vent his indignation openly against
the caprices of the power by which he was
alternately patronized and persecuted. We
are not therefore surprised to find affixed to
many of his pieces, dedicatory epistles to
Richelieu, his niece the Duchess D'Aiguillon,
and other grandees of the court, composed
in a strain of fulsome adulation, which Dry-
den could scarcely have surpassed. A hard
condition, too frequently imposed by fortune
on indigent genius. For the dedication of
"Cinna" to M. de Montauron, Corneille was
said to have received the large sum of one
thousand pistoles, accompanied, however,
with considerable obloquy; so much so, that
praises of this kind, furnished upon specific
terms, were called thenceforward, dedications
à la Montauron. "It is always possible,"
says M. Guizot," to determine by the nature
of the homage which Corneille pays, the
amount of the reward he received for it; and
the excessive character of his eulogies will
never prove anything but the excess of his
gratitude." Even on the death of Richelieu,
he smothered up his resentment of injuries,
under the consciousness of obligation, in
these ingeniously turned lines:-

"Qu'on parle mal ou bien du fameux Cardinal,
Ma prose ni mes vers n'en diront jamais rien:
Il m'a fait trop de bien pour en dire du mal;
Il m'a fait trop de mal pour en dire du bien.”

66

with the public was on the decline, from the cold reception of "Pertharite," determined to give up writing for the stage. "It is just," he says, that, after twenty years of labor, I should begin to perceive that I am growing too old to continue in vogue; I take leave of the public before they entirely take leave of me. It would have been well for his literary reputation if this resolve had been irrevocable, but after six years of retirement he returned to his vocation, with diminished powers, and evident symptoms that his lamp of poetic inspiration was burning low. Perhaps he had a more powerful incitement in the pressure of worldly affairs and the want of money, than even in the flattering encouragement of Fouquet. When Boileau congratulated him on the success of his tragedies, and the glory he had gained thereby; "Yes," answered Corneille, “I am satiated with glory, and famished for money." In "Nicomede" and "Sertorius," there are passages still worthy of his name, Othon" contains one speech which will always continue to be quoted, and even Agesilas" has a scene which could not easily have been written by any one else. The general inferiority of the last-named play, followed by "Attila," written respectively at the ages of sixty and sixty-two, drew from the satiric pen of Boileau this cutting epigram, which M. Guizot has inserted in a

note.

66

Après l'Agesilas,—Helas!

Mais apres l'Attila-Holà."

After the triumph of the "Cid, "-"Horace," "Cinna," "Polyeucte," and "Pompée," followed in rapid succession, and carried Corneille, unwarned by failure, continued. the reputation of Corneille to its highest to write up to seventy, to the unavailing repinnacle. In "Rodogune" and "Heraclius," gret of his honest admirers, the satisfaction there was scarcely any perceptible descent, of his enemies, and the detriment of his fame. although the plot of the latter is so intricate He reached the almost patriarchal age of and involved, that it requires a second and seventy-eight, in a state of melancholy deseven a third perusal, with undivided at-pondency, with a total incapacity and avertention, before it can be satisfactorily unsion to business of every kind, and finally ravelled. In the Menteur," he far exceeded his earlier efforts in comedy. This survived the loss of his faculties for nearly a expired on the 1st of October, 1684, having superiority arises less from the actual merits year. Remarkably distinguished in these of the play, than from the simple fact that particulars from Shakspeare, who died sudit is more natural than the others, and the denly at the comparatively early age of fiftyleading character taken from the scenes of two, in the full enjoyment of bodily health every-day life. At the age of forty-seven, and intellectual energy, and whose latest Corneille, beginning to fancy his reputation productions are ranked among his best. Racine, who succeeded Corneille by the legitimate inheritance of kindred ability, volunteered the office of eulogist, and Voltaire, by a similar right, became the commentator of their illustrious predecessor. If, in some touches of refinement, in a more cultivated

the small fry of literary pretenders, now forgotten, endeavored for a time to preserve the balance of public opinion; but Corneille, by the unaided superiority of his talents, was able to vanquish the perverted taste of his age, the competition of his rivals, and the envy of the all-potent minister.

style, and minutely delicate strokes of the pencil, they surpassed their model and teacher, let it not be forgotten that the first praise is due to the master who leads, rather than to the scholars, who, through his labors and example, have improved the path to excellence. They derived advantage from his faults while they drew inspiration from his genius, learning at the same time, and from the one source, what to avoid, and how to amend. In the brilliant youth of the disciple, the former achievements of the aged preceptor are frequently and unjustly forgotten. The first hardy pioneer who forces a passage through a mountain, untrod before, has accomplished a feat of greater difficulty than the followers in his train, who have rendered the rugged opening smooth and agreeable.

in his "Essay upon Dramatic Poetry;" "Il faut observer les unités d'action, de lieu, et de jour; personne n'en doute." This rule so distinctly admitted by Corneille, continued binding on the tender Racine, the fiery Crebillon, and the elegant Voltaire.

"La Motte," says Voltaire, "a man of wit and talent, but attached to paradoxes, has written in our time against the doctrine of the unities, but that literary heresy met with no success; had Shakspeare been equally bigoted to scholastic rules, we should have had no 'Macbeth,' Midsummer's Night's Dream,' Tempest,' or 'Lear.' Dennis, in his celebrated criticism on 'Cato,' which Dr. Johnson gives at full length in his 'Life of Addison,' shows, with unanswerable truth, the absurdity of confining the action of a play to one particular place. Dennis was a snarling, waspish animal, full of crotchets and absurd prejudices, but in this he is right. In Cato,' the scene is laid, with scrupulous attention to the unities, in the great hall of Cato's palace at Utica. Here the conspirators meet to lay their plots, and, says Dennis, How could they be such fools as to select the most unfitting place in the world to discuss a matter which involved their heads?' But let no one suppose that this absurdity occurs in Cato' alone. The tragedies of Corneille and Racine afford examples enough that the authors found themselves compelled to violate the laws of probability and common sense, in order to adhere to those of Aristotle. In 'Cinna,' he and Maximus conspire in the Emperor's cabinet, and there Amelia shouts forth her resolution to assassinate him; and, to make the matter more glaring, Cinna is quite aware of their egregious folly, for he says,

The private character of Corneille appears to have been honest, simple, and generally unassuming, with certain occasional inequalities of temper, from which human nature is never exempt. His actions are to be found in the history of his works. The lives of poets and scholars are usually barren of incident, separated from the bustling scenes of the world, and removed from the arena of dangerous ambition. Cervantes and Camoens form eminent exceptions. Each were gallant warriors, visiting distant lands, and braving wounds and captivity in the course of military service. Calderon, too, "had been a soldier in his youth," and Lope de Vega, on the loss of his first wife, sought consolation in the perils of the Armada. Corneille created and embellished heroes with his pen, and makes them dilate loftily on the duties of chivalry and the laws of honor, but he had no fiery spark in his own composition, and held it quite unnecessary to illustrate his theory by personal example. When challenged by Scudéry, out of spleen at his superior popularity, he rejected the appeal to arms with philosophic contempt, and replied to the rhodomontades of his an- Corneille and Racine may be distinguished gry rival by a sarcasm. "There is no ne- as the Homer and Virgil of France. The cessity," said he, "for knowing how much former was deficient in tenderness, in dranobler or more valiant you may be than my-matic construction, and in the art of moving self, in order to judge how far superior the Cid' is to the Amant Liberal'" (one of Scudery's worst comedies).

Corneille reformed much that was rude and defective in the dramatic taste of his country, but he made no effort to break through the trammels of the unities, within which the French stage has been invariably restricted. He acknowledges them as indispensable, in this short but emphatic sentence

Amis, dans ce palais on peut nous écouter;
Et nous parlons peut-être avec trop d'imprudence,
Dans un lieu si mal-propre à notre confidence.'

the passions; but he surpassed in grandeur, in distinct identity of character, and in the power of saying much in a few words. In refinement, in delineating the passion of love truthfully, and in harmony of versification, Racine is unequalled. Corneille injured his fame by writing too much and too long. He suffers more by comparison with himself, than when viewed in conjunction with any other writer. It is almost impossible to be

lieve that the "Cid" and "Pertharite," or "Surena," could proceed from the same source. Critics of his own nation, headed by Voltaire, have condemned more than twenty of his dramas, and confined his claims to superior excellence, to half a dozen. No foreign reader is likely to verify or refute this censure, as either course would entail the necessity of perusing them to an end. We cannot entirely agree with M. Guizot, in the opinion he has adopted from earlier authorities, than the heroes and heroines of Corneille are Greeks and Romans, Indians or Spaniards, according to the age and country in which they are placed. To us they still appear indigenously Parisian, although less palpably one family than those of Racine and Voltaire.

The French are fond of comparing Corneille and Shakspeare. We are fully alive to the merits of the great foreign writer, and have no wish to depreciate from national partiality; but we cannot see how the comparison can hold good, except in the one. point, that each was a master in his art, and looked upon as a foundation-stone, on which the structure of dramatic excellence has been subsequently erected.*

The credit of Corneille rests exclusively on his tragedies, while his comedies are obsolete. That of Shakspeare is so equally

witnessed Rachel in this agony of passion,
will not easily forget the effect she produced,
by a most extraordinary union of intellectual
intensity, and physical execution. We sub-
join the speech entire for the purpose of a
distinct parallel.

"Rome, l'unique objet de mon ressentiment!
Rome, à qui vient ton bras d'immoler mon amant !
Rome, qui t'a vû naître, et que ton cœur adore!
Rome, enfin que je haïs parcequ'elle t'honore!
Puissent tous ses voisins ensemble conjurés,
Sapper ses fondesmens encore mal assurés;
Et si ce n'est assez de toute l'Italie,
Que l'orient contre-elle a l'occident s'allie;
Que cent peuples unis des bouts de l'univers,
Passent pour la detruire, et les monts et les mers;
Qu'elle même sur soi renverse ses murailles,
Et de ses propres mains, dechire ses entrailles !
Que le courroux du Ciel allumé par mes vœux,
Fasse pleuvoir sur elle un deluge de feux!
Puisse je de mes yeux y voir tomber ce foudre,
Voir ses maisons en cendre, et tes lauriers en
poudre,

Voir le dernier Romain à son dernier soupir,
Moi seul en être la cause, et mourir de plaisir."

our individual opinion as to which of the two the palm of superiority should be awarded.

Let us now request our readers to turn to the curse which Lear hurls on his daughter Goneril, and read or recite that the other. Here are two masterly passages tremendous imprecation immediately after illustrating a similar effect of human feeling from mighty spirits, in the same vein, each poised between the two, that it is difficult to decide from which he has derived the great-ment. Perhaps it is not necessary to express under circumstances of harrowing exciteest share of his renown. He vibrates from one to the other, like Garrick, when claimed by the contending Muses in Sir Joshua's picture. Corneille confined himself strictly to classic rules. Shakspeare treated them with sovereign disregard. Of Corneille's thirty-two dramas, not more than four or five retain possession of the stage. Of Shakspeare's thirty-six, above three-fourths are in requisition, and seldom fail to prove attractive when adequately represented. The recent success of "King John" at the Princess's Theatre, affords a memorable corroborative instance. The most devoted worshipper of Corneille, if called upon to select a trial specimen of his characteristic excellence, would in all probability pause upon the torrent of reproaches with which Camille overwhelms her brother, thus provoking him to murder, when he returns victorious from the combat with the Curatii in which her lover has been slaughtered. Those who have

*The French point to the illustrious name of Pierre Corneille, as affording to the history of their theatre, the mighty landmark which Shakspeare gives to our own.

"Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful!
Into her womb convey sterility!
Dry up in her the organs of increase:
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honor her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live
And be a thwart, disnatur'd torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child !-Away, away!"

The final division of M. Guizot's work is occupied by very interesting details respecting Chapelain, Rotrou, and Scarron, three contemporaries of Corneille, whose producreaders. Chapelain devoted twenty years of tions are little familiar to the generality of his life to the composition of twelve cantos of a poem on the Maid of Orleans, which

From Blackwood's Magazine.

ALPHONSE KARR.