His fortunes were low. The trifling pension allowed him by Cardinal Richelieu expired with that minister. Many years afterwards, Louis XIV. granted him a pension of 2000 francs as the first dramatic poet of the world. He was wholly indifferent to gain; the actors paid him what they pleased for his pieces; he never called them to account. He lived frugally, but had little to live on. A few days before his death his family were in considerable straits for want of money, and the king, hearing of this, sent him 200 louis.
In these traits, recorded chiefly by his brother and his nephew, Fontenelle, we see the genuine traces of a poet. Of a man whose heart is set on the ideal, and whose mind is occupied by conceptions engendered within itself—to whom the outward world is of slight account, except as it influences his imagination or excites his affections. The political struggles and civil wars, in which his youth was spent, gave a sort of republican loftiness to his mind, energy without fierceness, somewhat at variance with the French character.
Once, on entering a theatre at Paris, after a longer retreat than usual in his native town, the actors stopped short: the great Condé, the prince of Conti, together with the whole audience, rose: the acclamation was general and long continued. Such flattering testimonials embarrassed a man modest by nature, and unused to make a show of himself; but they evince the generous spirit of his country. Marks of veneration followed his death.
His character commanded and met with respect. He had long been the eldest member of the academy: on his death his brother was elected to succeed him. Racine contended for the honour of receiving the new academician; on which occasion it was the custom to make a speech in praise of the late member whose place the new one took. Racine's eulogy on Corneille met with great applause, and he recited it a second time before the king. He spoke with enthusiasm of his merits, and, in particular, of "a certain strength, a certain elevation, which transports, and renders his very defects, if he had any, more venerable than the excellence of others." This testimony was honourable to Racine, who had, indeed, so heartfelt an appreciation of his best passages, that, although he interdicted dramas and poetry from his children, he caused them to learn, and taught them to admire, various scenes in Corneille. Many years after Voltaire discovered a descendant of the great poet[19]: he spread the discovery abroad; he invited the young lady to Ferney as to her home; and published for her benefit his two volumes of commentary on her great ancestor's works. This commentary has been found fault with for the degree of blame it contains. Voltaire says himself, he wrote it chiefly to instruct future dramatic poets, and he was sincere in his views, even if he were mistaken. It is chiefly remarkable for the extent of its verbal criticism, and his earnest endeavour to banish all familiar expressions from tragic dialogue, thus rendering French tragedies more factitious than ever. It is strange to remark the different genius of various languages. We endeavour perpetually to bring back ours to the familiar and antique Saxon. We regard our translation of the Bible as a precious treasure, even in this light, being a source to which all good writers resort for true unadulterated English. It has been remarked that the sublimest passages of our greatest poets are written in short words, that is, in Anglo-Saxon, or pure English. While Voltaire, on the contrary, tried to substitute words unused in conversation, strangers to the real living expression of passion, and which give a factitious and false air, peculiar to the French buskin, and alien to true elevation of language.
So much has been said of Corneille's tragedies in the preceding pages that we need scarcely revert to them. He originated the French theatre. It was yet in the block when he took up his artist-tools. We grieve at the mistakes he made—mistakes, as to the structure of the drama, confirmed by subsequent writers, which mark classic French tragedy as an artificial and contracted offspring of a school, instead of being the free and genuine child of nature and genius. Corneille's originality, however, often bursts through these trammels: he has more truth and simplicity than any of his successors, and, as well as being the father of the French drama, we may name him the most vigorous and sublime poet that France has produced.
"J'ai brûlé fort longtemps d'une amour assez grande,
Et que jusqu'au tombeau je dois bien estimer,
Puisque ce fut par-là que j'appris à rimer.
Mon bonheur commença quand mon ame fut prise.
Je gagnai de la gloire en perdant ma franchise.
Charmé de deux beaux yeux, mon vers charma la cour;
Et ce que j'ai de nom je le dois à l'amour.
J'adorai donc Phylis, et la secrète estime
Que ce divin esprit faisait de notre rime.
Me fit devenir poète aussitôt qu'amoureux:
Elle eut mes premiers vers, elle eut mes premiers feux,
Et bien que maintenant cette belle inhumaine
Traite mon souvenir avec un peu de haine,
Je me trouve toujours en état de l'aimer;
Je me sens tout ému quand je l'entends nommer;
Et par le doux effet d'une prompte tendresse,
Mon cœur, sans mon aveu, reconnaît sa maîtresse.
Après beaucoup de vœux et de soumissions,
Un malheur rompt le cours de nos affections;
Mais tout mon amour en elle consommée,
Je ne vois rien d'aimable après l'avoir aimée;
Aussi n'aimé-je plus, et nul objet vainqueur
N'a possédé depuis ma veine ni mon cœur."
CORNEILLE.—Poésies Diverses.
[13]See Voltaire's preface to his Commentary on the Cid, and also the admirable account of Guillen de Castro, by Lord Holland.