, in the Port-Royal;[A] but when Nicole, one of that
illustrious fraternity, with undistinguishing fanaticism, had once
asserted that all dramatic writers were public poisoners of souls, Racine,
in the pride and strength of his genius, had eloquently repelled the
denouncement. But now, having yet only half run his unrivalled course, he
turned aside, relinquished its glory, repented of his success, and
resolved to write no more tragedies.[B] He determined to enter into the
austere order of the Chartreux; but his confessor, more rational than his
penitent, assured him that a character so feeling as his own, and so long
accustomed to the world, could not endure that terrible solitude. He
advised him to marry a woman of a serious turn, and that little domestic
occupations would withdraw him from the passion he seemed most to dread,
that of writing verses.

[Footnote A: For an account of this very celebrated religious foundation,
its fortunes and misfortunes, see the "Curiosities of Literature," vol. i.
p. 94.--ED.]

[Footnote B: Racine ultimately conceived an aversion for his dramatic
offspring, and could never be induced to edit a proper edition of his
works, or even give a few lessons in declamation to a juvenile princess,
who selected his _Andromaque_ for the subject, perhaps out of compliment
to the poet, whose first visit became in consequence his last.--ED.]

The marriage of Racine was an act of penance--neither love nor interest
had any share in the union. His wife was a good sort of woman, but perhaps
the most insensible of her sex; and the properest person in the world to
mortify the passion of literary glory, and the momentary exultation of
literary vanity.[A] It is scarcely credible, but most certainly true,
since her own son relates the fact, that the wife of Racine had neither
seen acted, nor ever read, nor desired to read, the tragedies which had
rendered her husband so celebrated throughout Europe; she had only learned
some of their titles in conversation. She was as insensible to fortune as
to fame. One day, when Racine returned from Versailles, with the princely
gift from Louis XIV. of a purse of 1000 louis, he hastened to embrace his
wife, and to show her the treasure. But she was full of trouble, for one
of the children for two days had not studied. "We will talk of this
another time," exclaimed the poet; "at present let us be happy." But she
insisted he ought instantly to reprimand this child, and conti