La Fontaine was buried in the cemetery of St. Joseph, at Paris, by the side of Molière, who had died many years before. Boileau and Racine survived him. His best epitaph is the following, written by himself: it records his character with equal fidelity and humour.
"Jean s'en alla comme il était venu, Mangant son fonds aprez son revenu, Croyant le bien chose peu nécessaire. Quant à son temps bien le sçut dépenser, Deux parts en fit dont il soluoit passer-- L'une à dormir, et l'autre à ne rien faire."
[Footnote 47: Molière, says Cailhava, in his "Art de la Comédie," indignant at the false taste of the court and the public, puts into the mouth of a courtier, in his "Misanthrope," a sonnet of Cotin, the most fashionable poet of the day, and a member of the academy. Bad taste was so accredited with the public, that the audience, on the first night of performance, applauded this nonsense to the echo, in perfect good faith. Molière expected and only waited this effect to "pulverise" the sonnet and its admirers by the relentless and excellent criticism which he puts into the mouth of his misanthrope, Alceste.]
[Footnote 48: Vie de La Fontaine, par Walknaer.]
[Footnote 49: Champforf.--Éloge de La Fontaine.]
[Footnote 50: The term "bête" as used here, and familiarly in French conversation is untranslatable into English.]
[Footnote 52: Un homme parait--grossier, lourd, stupide. Il ne sait pas parler, ni raconter ce qu'il vient de voir. S'il se met à écrire, c'est le modèle des beaux contes. Il fait parler les animaux, les arbres, les pierres,--tout ce qui ne parle pas. Ce n'est que légèreté, que élégance, que beau naturel, dans ses ouvrages.]
Bayle commences his life of Pascal, by declaring him to be one of the sublimest geniuses that the world ever produced; and every word we read confirms this judgment. He was as singular as he was great. He is, perhaps, the only instance of a man born with a natural genius for the exact sciences, who applied the subtlety and acuteness of his understanding to religious subjects, combining with close logical reasoning the utmost elegance and purity of style, and crowning all with so severe an adherence to what he considered the duties of a Christian as materially shortened his days. His life reads as one miracle: our admiration is perpetually excited,--may we own it?--our pity also. It is hard to say whether this be a just feeling. When we read of the simplicity and singleness of his character, of his sublime powers of self-denial, of his charity, his humility, and his patience, we feel that he as nearly approached his divine Master, as any man on record has ever done. But when we reflect on divine goodness, on the mission of the Redeemer, on the blessings with which God has gifted us--we cannot believe that we are sent here for the mere purpose of mortifying all our natural inclinations, or of spending our whole thoughts in preparation for a future life, except as virtue and piety are preparations. Man was born to be happy through the affections--to enjoy the beauty and harmony of the visible creation--to find delight in the exercise of his faculties, and the fulfilment of his social duties; and when to this is added a spirit of pious resignation, and a wish to be acceptable to God--we may rest satisfied: this state of mind not being so easy to attain, and not exaggerate our duties, till life becomes the prison and burden that Pascal represents it to be. Still it is with reverence that we venture to criticise a virtue that transcends the common nature of man. Pascal stands an example of the catholic principles of morality, and shows the extent to which self-denial can be carried by an upholder of that faith. Added to this, is the interest we take in the history of one who, from his birth, gave token of talents of a very uncommon order. The wonders recorded of his childhood are too well authenticated to admit of a doubt, while certainly they are not exceeded by any other prodigy, the achievements of whose premature genius have been handed down.