same; only the language, the diction, the poetry were improved; and no country can boast of a tragic writer, whose style so far excels all his other scenic merits, as Racine. But wider conceptions of nature were not admitted; and if the passions assumed a truer tone, it was not because they were more extensively studied and known, but because wit, pertness and conceits began to grow out of fashion, and made way for a better taste. Still, however, these continued to be perceptible in Corneille, and now and then a reminiscence of them may be found even in Racine, Of all the epithets which have been bestowed upon Corneille, that of creator is the most unmerited. Corneille hardly created any thing; and the improvements which he introduced in dramatic diction were not such extraordinary innovations as to merit the praise bestowed upon them. Rotrou alone contained examples sufficient to guide him, and the task which was left to him to perform was rather to avoid than to invent, to select than to add. Neither has Corneille, like Shakspeare, in any part of his works, left a standard for the language of his country; and, at this moment, the turns, and constructions, and mechanism of his style are generally more obsolete than the good poetry of the British bard, though his predecessor by nearly a century. What has become unintelligible in Shakspeare, consists chiefly in local phrases, and in allusions to customs now forgotten; but the style of the fifth act of his Merchant of Venice,' for instance, is such as the most modern poetry might own; and no tragic author has succeeded him, between whose language and his own there appears to be so much difference of date, as between those of Corneille and Racine, though contemporaries. In Corneille, too, we are often struck with the extreme negligence and triviality of some expressions in the midst of the most pompous dialogue, and of a dialogue evidently intended to maintain the high tone of tragedy. We will give no less than four examples from a speech of Felix, in the tragedy of Polyeucte, consisting of twenty lines. Qué tu discernes mal le cœur d'avec la mine- In a word, Corneille is too much upon stilts, or else too trivial; too dull, or too ingenious; too prosaic, or too grandiloquous. The first acts of Polyeucte are altogether in the style of comedy, and not of the best comedy. It will readily be admitted that in Medée' Corneille has not created much. He found the subject in mythology, and saw it fully treated by Seneca. He had therefore nothing to do but to copy in his coup d'essai. In his second attempt, still more successful, and which brought him an ample meed of renown and envy, he had a wider field to glean from, for Guillen de Castro, who lived about the same time with Lopez de Vega, had treated the subject of the Cid in two successive plays, or rather in two parts of one play. Consequently his merit lay in reducing within the compass of five acts what was originally in more; of bringing into twentyfour hours the events of a much longer period, and of making them all pass in one spot, however distant the scenes of action must necessarily have been in reality. As the mode of proceeding of this' creator of the French stage, the Grand Corneille,' even before it had acquired the degree of severity it has since maintained, is characteristic, we shall bestow some considerations upon the original and the copy. The Spanish theatre is, perhaps, the richest in Europe; not merely in ephemeral productions, bluettes, pieces de circonstances, or farces, but in good standard plays, of merit enough to outlive their century at least. The works of two dramatic poets of Spain, without reckoning more, Lopez de Vega and Calderone, are ten times more numerous than all the writings of all the dramatic poets of France that are worthy of being remembered. Consequently they offered a rich mine for the poets of other countries, and Corneille, among the number, explored it with advantage. But the genius of the two nations, their poetic impulses are so dissimilar, that a Spanish story could not be introduced upon the French theatre without much alteration. The tone of Spanish poetry is far more elevated than that of France, and ventures into a wider range of bold and dignified imagery. The language is more noble and sonorous. 'La nude franchise des Goths,' says Schlegel, sembloit retentir encore dans les accens de cette langue, lorsqu'une heureuse alliance avec l'orient lui fit prendre un essor plus hardi; et que la poësie Arabe, en l'enrichissant de ses expressions enivrantes, l'éleva au-dessus de la froide circonspection des idiomes occidentaux. Every thing in the Spanish character is great, and whatever that nation does under the guidance of its feelings and its energies, partakes of the sublime. Native tragedy then was more powerful and impressive there than could be tolerated on the French stage. Corneille took only the first part of the Mocedades del Cid' as his subject, and concluded his tragedy, as Guillem de Castro has concluded his first three acts, with the denouement relating merely to Rodrigue and Chimène. Instead of beginning with an action, as the Spanish poet has done, that of arming Rodrigo as knight, in which even the ladies of the court, the Infanta and Ximena, Ximena, concur, he opens with a recital, and a recital which had Ne me déguises-tu rien de ce qu'a dit mon père : The confidant replies 'Et puisqu'il faut encore vous en faire un récit.' The Spanish play continues in action; and when the ceremony of arming the Cid is ended, the King consults with his confidential ministers upon chusing a preceptor for his son. The rival candidates are El Conde Lozano, father of Ximena, and Diego Lainez, father of Rodrigo, her lover. Lozano reproaches Diego with his age, and thus gives rise to the following spirited defence: 'Que estoy caduco confieso, Que el tiempo enfin puede tanto. The result of this discussion, which grows warmer between them, is a blow given by Lozano to the old man, in the presence of the King, whose interposition stops all proceedings for the moment. This entire transaction in the French play takes place behind the scenes, from which Lozano and Diego issue to spar in words, in rather a long scene, ending with some smart pushes well parried, and, finally, with the blow on which all the interest of the tragedy turns. Corneille does not venture to let the blow be given in the presence of the sovereign, and thereby alters the manners of the times, and makes them not those of Spain under Ferdinand, the first King of Castile, but of Frenchmen under Lewis XIV., when, to use the words of Burke, you had' tuns of ancient pomp in a vial of modern luxury.' The manner in which the original Diego tries the courage of his sons, to whom he would commit the care of avenging the affront affront he had received, is highly characteristic of a brave old Spaniard of the eleventh century. After choosing, in the armoury of his ancestors, the sword to which he thinks he can the best confide his honour, he calls in the youngest, and, amidst the weapons which had so long defended his house, puts him unexpectedly to bodily pain, from which his son shrinks in a manner which the old warrior deems unbecoming. He then tries the same experiment upon his second son, but, not satisfied with either, he exclaims, 'En que columnas estriba, La nobleza de una casa, Que dia luz a tantos reyes.' His eldest son, however, Rodrigo, the Cid, upon being put to the same trial, exclaims, Si no fueras mi padre, dieraos una bofetada,' at which the enraptured father, pressing him in his arms, cries out, Ya no fuera la primera,' and gives him the avenging sword. Then follows the celebrated soliloquy of Rodrigo, in which he bewails the destiny that compels him to revenge the honour of his own father on the father of Ximena, and which Corneille has translated literally. The incident of the armoury not suiting the unities, the French poet omitted it, and thus robbed the soliloquy of the old man of all its picturesque beauty. The trial of courage, too, by bodily pain, not being in unison with the court of Louis XIV., could not be preserved; and Diego meeting Rodrigo, the only son Corneille has given him, in the street, or at home, or any where else, says to him 6 Tout autre que mon père Agréable colère ! The answer made by Rodrigue to his father's question, 'As-tu du cœur,' a German translator, whether waggishly or not, hasto the universal indignation of the French nation-rendered thus laconically, if not energetically, Ya, papa.' The much admired Parlons bas, écoute, said by young Rodrigo to an older man, his intended father-in-law, lest they should be overheard, and their duel prevented, is in the original, Habla baxo, escucha,' and much better placed there than in the copy, because in the former the Infanta and Ximena are seated at an open window, and can see, and might overhear, all that passes. The events which follow, Chimène demanding vengeance against her betrothed lover for the murder of her father, Rodrigo's and Diego's defence, are taken from the Spanish; but many circumstances are omitted. Rodrigo's exploits against the Moors are in the French recited, and recited by himself, to the king; in the Spanish they are part of the action. There is likewise, in the first play of Guillem de Castro on this subject, an apparition of San Lazaro to the Cid, which is as characteristic of the times and country as the witches of Macbeth were of early Scotland; and a variety of other incidents, which the squeamishness of French taste could not tolerate. But what it could tolerate, because the unity of time demanded it, was that Chimène should, in twenty-four hours after her father had been killed in a duel, and before his funeral could in decency have taken place, be nearly reconciled to the champion under whose sword he fell. It is true this champion had, during that time, done many things to win a lady's heart; he had beaten the Moors; he had defeated a knight whom Chimène had promised to marry if he would avenge her father's death; and he had-to her great astonishment and satisfaction-payed her two very long morning visits in her own house. But the Spanish poet, whether it was that he regarded the unities less, or paid more respect to common sense, decency and probability, allowed his heroine longer time to relent; and gave his hero more than one Atlantean day to support his world of achievements. Ximena observes, about the middle of the play, that three months had elapsed since her father's death; consequently it may be assumed that the entire action took up five or six months; and thus the precipitancy of the lady was at least 150 times less. It is true she does not quite consent in Corneille; but the King answers for her to Rodrigo. 'Pour vaincre un point d'honneur qui combat contre toi, And thus the catastrophe is incomplete, for the fate of the lovers is not decided by any thing more positive than the promise of a third person, and their own silence. The marriage of Ximena with Rodrigo, at the end of several months, may be tolerated according to the manners which de Castro has given to his personages; but it is incompatible with Parisian manners, and the embroidered coats and hoops in which Corneille has dressed his actors; and, by altering the moral costume of his drama, he has made the denouement disgusting. The unity of place has brought the French poet into still greater difficulties; and, as it is rigidly observed in the representation, it gives rise to unspeakable absurdity. The confidential scenes of Chimena take place in the king's own room, as do her lover's clandestine visits to what she herself calls her house; and every other incident of the play occurs in the same spot. Corneille felt this inconvenience, and the contradictions to which it gave rise; but all France, its academy, its prime minister, were against him; and, in order to be French, academic, ministerial, in order to be in good taste, he was reduced to be absurd. The dramatic conceptions of Corneille, had he been left entirely to himself, were vast enough perhaps to have overcome the prepossession |