Verse-making out of the question, this was to be a genuine poet,
though, with commonplace mortals, it was also to be a fool."

But we will first, in few words, despatch the worst--for there is a very
bad part--of his life. It was not specially _his_ life; it was the
life of the age in which he lived. The man of strong amorous
propensities, in that age and country, who was, nevertheless, faithful to
vows of either marriage or celibacy,--the latter vows then proved sadly
dangerous to the former,--may be regarded as a miracle. La Fontaine,
without any agency of his own affections, found himself married at the
age of twenty-six, while yet as immature as most men are at sixteen. The
upshot was, that his patrimony dwindled; and, though he lived many years
with his wife, and had a son, he neglected her more and more, till at
last he forgot that he had been married, though he unfortunately did not
forget that there were other women in the world besides his wife. His
genius and benevolence gained him friends everywhere with both sexes, who
never suffered him to want, and who had never cause to complain of his
ingratitude. But he was always the special favourite of the Aspasias who
ruled France and her kings. To please them, he wrote a great deal of fine
poetry, much of which deserves to be everlastingly forgotten. It must be
said for him, that his vice became conspicuous only in the light of one
of his virtues. His frankness would never allow concealment. He
scandalized his friends Boileau and Racine; still, it is matter of doubt
whether they did not excel him rather in prudence than in purity. But,
whatever may be said in palliation, it is lamentable to think that a
heaven-lighted genius should have been made, in any way, to minister to a
hell-envenomed vice, which has caused unutterable woes to France and the
world. Some time before he died, he repented bitterly of this part of his
course, and laboured, no doubt sincerely, to repair the mischiefs he had
done.