nimé par la vengeance; tout le camp demeure immobile. Les blessés pensent à la perte qu'ils ont faite, et non pas aux blessures qu'ils ont reçues. Les pères mourants envoient leurs fils pleurer sur leur général mort. L'armée en deuil est occupée à lui rendre les devoirs funèbres; et la renommée, qui se plaît à répandre dans l'univers les accidents extraordinaires, va remplir toute l'Europe du récit glorieux de la vie de ce prince et du triste regret de sa mort. Que de soupirs alors! que de plaintes! que de louanges retentissent dans les villes, dans la campagne! L'un, voyant croître ses moissons, bénit la mémoire de celui à qui il doit l'espérance de sa récolte; l'autre, qui jouit encore en repos de l'héritage qu'il a reçu de ses pères, souhaite une éternelle paix à celui qui l'a sauvé des désordres et des cruautés de la guerre. Ici l'on offre le sacrifice adorable de Jésus-Christ pour l'âme de celui qui a sacrifié sa vie et son sang pour le bien public; là on lui dresse une pompe funèbre, où l'on s'attendait de lui dresser un triomphe. Chacun choisit l'endroit qui lui paraît le plus éclatant dans une si belle vie. Tous entreprennent son éloge; et chacun, s'interrompant lui-même par ses soupirs et par ses larmes, admire le passé, regrette le présent et tremble pour l'avenir. Ainsi tout le royaume pleure la mort de son défenseur, et la perte d'un homme seul est une calamité publique. II. PERORAISON. Tirons donc, messieurs, tirons de notre douleur des motifs de pénitence, et ne cherchons qu'en la piété de ce grand homme de vraies et solides consolations. Citoyens, étrangers, ennemis, peuples, rois, empereurs le plaignent et le révèrent; mais que peuvent-ils contribuer à son véritable bonheur ?2 Son roi même, et quel roi! l'honore de ses regrets et de ses larmes, grande et précieuse marque de tendresse et d'estime pour un sujet, mais inutile pour un chrétien. Il vivra, je l'avoue, dans l'esprit et dans la mémoire des hommes; mais l'Écriture m'apprend que ce que l'homme pense, et l'homme lui-même n'est que vanité. Un magnifique tombeau renfermera ses tristes dépouilles; mais il sortira de ce superbe monument, non pour être loué de ses exploits héroïques, mais pour être jugé selon ses bonnes ou mauvaises œuvres. Ses cendres seront mêlées avec celles de tant de rois qui gouvernèrent ce royaume, qu'il a si généreusement défendu; mais après tout, que leur reste-t-il à ces rois non plus qu'à lui des applaudissements du 1 Nowadays the verb s'attendre could only be followed by the preposition à, whether the next word be a substantive or a verb, but in the 17th century s'attendre de followed by an infinitive was of frequent occurrence e. g.: 2 On ne s'attendait guère De voir Ulysse en cette affaire. (LA FONTAINE, Fables X, 3.) Mes transports aujourd'hui s'attendaient d'éclater. (RACINE, Bérénice, III, 1.) Now we should prefer: en quoi peuvent-ils contribuer ..., but the writers of the age of Louis XIV were very fond of using contribuer as a transitive verb e. g. Si j'ai contribué quelque chose à l'agrément de votre style.... 3 I. e. so nobly. V. p. 11. n. 5. monde, de la foule de leur cour, de l'éclat et de la pompe de leur fortune, qu'un silence éternel, une sclitude affreuse et une terrible attente des jugements de Dieu, sous ces marbres précieux qui les couvrent? Que le monde honore donc comme il voudra les grandeurs humaines, Dieu seul est la récompense des vertus chrétiennes. O mort trop soudaine, mais pourtant par la miséricorde du Seigneur depuis longtemps prévue, combien de paroles édifiantes, combien de saints exemples nous as-tu ravis! Nous eussions vu, quel spectacle! au milieu des victoires et des triomphes mourir humblement un chrétien. Avec quelle attention eût-il employé ses derniers moments à pleurer intérieurement ses erreurs passées, à s'anéantir devant la majesté de Dieu, et à implorer le secours de son bras non plus contre des ennemis visibles, mais contre ceux de son salut? Sa foi vive et sa charité fervente nous auraient sans doute touchés; et il nous resterait un modèle d'une confiance sans présomption, d'une crainte sans faiblesse, d'une pénitence sans artifice, d'une constance sans affection, et d'une mort précieuse devant Dieu et devant les hommes. Ces conjectures ne sont-elles pas justes, messieurs? Que dis-je, conjectures! c'étaient des desseins formés. Il avait résolu de vivre aussi saintement que je présume qu'il fût mort. Prêt à jeter toutes ses couronnes aux pieds du trône de Jésus-Christ, comme ces vainqueurs de l'Apocalypse; prêt à ramasser toute sa gloire, pour s'en dépouiller par une retraite volontaire, il n'était déjà plus du monde, quoique la Providence l'y retînt encore. Dans le tumulte des armées, il s'entretenait des douces et secrètes espérances de sa solitude. D'une main il foudroyait les Amalécites, et il levait déjà l'autre pour attirer sur lui les bénédictions célestes. Ce Josué, dans le combat, faisait déjà les fonctions de Moïse sur la montagne, et sous les armes d'un guerrier portait le cœur et la volonté d'un pénitent. Seigneur, qui éclairez les plus sombres replis de nos consciences, et qui voyez dans nos plus secrètes intentions ce qui n'est pas encore comme ce qui est, recevez dans le sein de votre gloire cette âme qui bientôt n'eût été occupée que des pensées de votre éternité; recevez ces désirs que vous lui aviez vous-même inspirés. Le temps lui a manqué et non pas le courage de les accomplir. Si vous demandez des œuvres avec ses désirs, voilà des charités qu'il a faites ou destinées pour le soulagement et pour le salut de ses frères; voilà des âmes égarées qu'il a ramenées à vous par ses assistances,1 par ses conseils, par son exemple; voilà ce sang de votre peuple qu'il a tant de fois épargné; voilà ce sang qu'il a si généreusement répandu pour nous; et, pour dire encore plus, voilà le sang que Jésus-Christ a versé pour lui. Ministres du Seigneur, achevez le saint sacrifice. Chrétiens, redoublez vos vœux et vos prières, afin que Dieu, pour récompense de ses travaux, l'admette dans le séjour du repos éternel et donne dans le ciel une paix sans fin à celui qui nous en a trois fois procuré une sur la terre, passagère à la vérité, mais toujours douce et toujours désirable. RACINE. SKETCH OF HIS LIFE AND WORKS.1 JEAN RACINE was born on the 22nd of December 1639, at La FertéMilon, a small town in the neighbourhood of Paris, where his father was a controller in the salt department. Having lost both his parents before he was five years old, he was left to the care of his grandfather on the mother's side, who sent him first to the grammarschool of Beauvais, and afterwards to Port-Royal des Champs. There he remained three years while Pascal2 was writing his Provinciales at the same place and when he was 19 he entered the collége d'Harcourt at Paris, with a view to studying Logic. The marriage of Louis XIV was the turning-point of the young student's career; on this occasion he composed an epithalamium, les Nymphes de la Seine (published in 1660), which attracted much attention and brought him to the notice of the king. Being assured of his protection, Racine gave up the ecclesiastical profession, for which he had been intended, and devoted himself entirely to literature. He began his career as a dramatic author in 1663, by producing les Frères Ennemis (i. e. Eteocles and Polynices), a tragedy, which he had written at Molière's suggestion and which was acted by Molière's company. The defects of this play and particularly its careless versification did not prevent its being favourably received by the public. A year later appeared Alexandre, which, though a strange perversion of historical truth, proved a brilliant success on the stage. Racine had caused Alexandre to be performed both by Molière's company and that of the hôtel de Bourgogne, a proceeding which Molière never forgave. Racine was 28 years old, when he produced Andromaque (1667) the first of his masterpieces and a play, which marks a new era in French literature: it is the first example of what may be called the sentimental (as distinguished from the heroïc) drama, the chief interest of which lies in the picture of human feelings and passions, rather than in the recital of heroïc deeds. Andromaque was followed by les Plaideurs (1668) an imitation of the Wasps of Aristophanes. This play is not so much a comedy as a satire in the shape of a play, but it is a very amusing one and the picture presented of the judges, suitors and counsel is quite as laughable as that of the Greek play. Tacitus furnished Racine with the subject of his next composition. Britannicus, which appeared in 1669, is a tragedy of the loftiest kind of beauty, demanding an audience of connaisseurs to appreciate it; and its success, though only gradually achieved, was complete in the end. The tragedy of Berenice (1670) was, though unwittingly We have followed Geruzez, Études and the Notice biographique heading the edition of Racine in the collection Les Grands Ecrivains de la France edited by M. Regnier. We have adopted the authentic text, as restored by M. Mesnard. 2 V. page 54. on Racine's part, a kind of challenge to Corneille. The duchess of Orléans had asked both poets to compose a tragedy on this subject, without either being aware of the other's doings. Both complied, and Racine, who was then in the prime of life and intellectual vigour, easily gained the victory over Corneille in his decline. And yet his Berenice can scarcely be called a tragedy; it is rather an elegant elegy in a dramatic form. Bajazet (1672), the subject of which is taken from Turkish history is not equal to his other works of the same period. Mithridate (1673) is in its political part equal to the best of Corneille's plays; the character of the hero is a beautiful and interesting study of human nature, and the figure of Monime an ideal of moral grandeur and strength, which reminds one of Chimène in the Cid and Pauline in Polyeucte; but the two sons of Mithridates are essentially out of keeping with the rest, and the conclusion is very weak. Iphigénie en Aulide (1674) imitated from Euripides, had a wonderful success; not that it contains a faithful picture of ancient manners, far from it: but the characters are well drawn, the plot is ingeniously contrived, and the conflict of selfish ambition with a mother's love, as Racine describes it, will be always interesting and always true. Phèdre appeared in 1677. This tragedy also is an imitation of Euripides, but Racine by making Phaedra instead of Hippolytus the principal figure of the story has given it new interest and provided an opportunity of describing the fury of passion in a manner at once awful and sublime. This masterpiece of dramatic genius, which is undoubtedly the finest of Racine's non-sacred plays, proved a failure on the stage; it fell a victim to a cabal organized to support Pradon's Phaedra, a very inferior production. The injustice done him, added to religious scruples, caused Racine to cease writing for the stage altogether. In 1677 Racine married, and the same year he was appointed historiographer to the king. Honoured with his protection and the friendship of Mme de Maintenon, he lived at ease, with no other care but that of his office, his family, and his own spiritual welfare. He worked hard at a history of the reign of Louis XIV, but after his death the whole of his manuscript perished by fire. This loss is not an hiatus valde deflendus, for no contemporary is capable of writing an impartial history of a great monarch, least of all a royal historiographer. The Abrégé de l'histoire de Port-Royal published in 1693 shows that Racine had every literary qualification of an historian, clearness, vigour and simplicity. Towards the end of 1688 Racine composed at Mme de Maintenon's request a tragedy named Esther, which was acted before the court in January 1689 by the young ladies of St-Cyr. The plot of the piece is weak, but the beauty of its language, especially in the chorus, surpassed all Racine's previous works. Its success induced the poet to write another play on a similar subject: Athalie, his next and his last production, is the most perfect of all his dramatic works. The play was only acted twice by the pupils of St-Cyr, and without costumes. When printed it was entirely misjudged by the public; V. the sketch of the life and works of Mme de Maintenon p. 149. it was almost forgotten till 1716 (seventeen years after Racine's death), when it was acted at the Théâtre-Français and obtained a brilliant success. After having been for a long time a favourite with Louis XIV, Racine fell into disgrace; the reason is but imperfectly known: it is said and very credibly, that the poet had at Mme de Maintenon's instigation presented to the king a memoir on the wretched condition of his people, and that the document excited the anger of Louis XIV, who could never bear to be told the truth on this subject. »Does he think he knows everything, and because he is a great poet fancy himself a statesman ?< are the words attributed to him. Racine had been in ill health for some time, and he was so much affected by his disgrace that from this time he grew rapidly worse and died, after languishing a couple of years, in 1699. The most striking feature of Racine's plays is their simplicity, both in plot and language. He searched history for ready-made tragedies, which gave him a simple plot to fill in with the picture of human feelings and passions. As a rule he sketched out his pieces in prose, so as to be able the better to judge of their effect without any ornament and to follow the plan with greater accuracy. And yet his verses are unsurpassed for purity and elegance. But with the exception of his two biblical tragedies, we must not look for any local colouring in Racine's plays. His characters bear Greek, Roman or Turkish names, but are French in manners and habit of thought, and their language scarcely differs from that of the gallant courtiers of Versailles. We shall acquaint the readers of this Manual with ANDROMAQUE, BRITANNICUS, MITHRIDATE, IPHIGÉNIE and PHEDRE; and shall give an analysis of ATHALIE. But before passing on to an examination of these tragedies it will not be out of place to preface them with some REMARKS ON THE THREE UNITIES. 1 The three unities are the unity of action, of time, and of place. No one has ever disputed the necessity of the first, which demands that a piece shall have but one principal plot; as to the two others, the ancient Greeks were compelled to observe them by the structure and origin of their theatre. The drama in Greece sprang from the worship of Dionysos and grew by degrees out of the chorus, which sang hymns around the altar of the god. Hence the unity of place: i. e. there was originally no change of scenery and the whole of the action proceeded on the same spot. Again the chorus was supposed to consist of men and women living in the neighbourhood: hence the unity of time, it being unlikely that the same people would meet again, if the action of the piece took more than 24 hours. Thus with the ancient Greeks, the unities were not a priori truths anterior to the drama, but rules of expediency resulting from the peculiarities of their theatre. Furthermore we may add, that even the Greeks have not always observed the unity of place and that there is a change of scenery in several plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. It will appear from this, that the French writers of the so-called Classical school made a great mistake, when they proclaimed the rule of the three unities as containing a set of immutable laws, equally V. LESSING, Hamburgische Dramaturgie, p. 46 and in this Manual (v. page 597) Victor Hugo II., Préface de Cromwell, les Unités. |