It was brought out at the theatre of the Palais Royal--it was
unsuccessful; and the author, attributing his ill success to the actors,
withdrew it, and caused it to be performed at the Hôtel de Bourgogne:
to this defalcation he added the greater injury of inducing Champmélé,
the best tragic actress of the time, to quit Molière's company for that
of the rival theatre. Molière never forgave him; and they ceased to
associate together. Madame de Sévigné alludes in her letters to the
attachment of Racine for Champmélé, but his son denies that such
existed; and the mention which Racine makes in his letters of this
actress; when she was dying, betray no trace of tender recollection;
yet, as these were addressed to his son, he might carefully suppress the
expressions of his regret. He taught Champmélé to recite; and she owed
her reputation to his instructions.
The criticism freely poured on his two tragedies were of use to the
author. He was keenly alive to censure, and deeply pained by it; but,
when accompanied by such praise as showed that correction and
improvement were expected, he readily gave ear to the suggestions of his
fault-finders. Boileau boasted that he taught Racine to rhyme with
difficulty--easy verses, he said, are not those written most easily.
Racine, as he went on, also began to feel the true bent of his genius,
while his desire to write parts suited to Champmélé induced him to
give that preponderance to the chief female part that produced, in the
sequel, his best plays.
While he was employing himself on "Andromaque" he sustained an attack,
which roused him to some resentment. Nicole, in a letter he published
against a new sect of religionists, asserted that "a romance writer and
a theatrical poet are public poisoners--not of bodies, but of souls--and
that they ought to look on themselves as the occasion of an infinity of
spiritual homicides, of which they are, or might be, the cause." Racine
felt this censure the more bitterly from his having been excluded from
visiting the Port Royal on account of his tragedies[100]; and he
answered it by a letter, addressed "To the author of imaginary
reveries." This letter is written with a good deal of wit and
pleasantry: we miss the high tone of eloquent feeling that it might be
supposed that an author, warmed with the dignity of his calling, would
have expressed. His letter was answered, and he was excited to write a
reply, which he showed to Boileau. The satirist persuaded him to
suppress it; telling him that it would do no honour to his heart, since
he attacked, in attacking the Port Royal, men of the highest integrity,
to whom he was under obligations. Racine yielded, declaring that his
letter should never see light; which it did not till after his death,
when a stray copy was found and printed. The conduct of the poets was
honourable. It is probable that Racine did not, in his heart, believe in
the goodness of his cause; for he was deeply imbued with the prejudices
instilled by the jansenists in his early youth. He was piqued by the
attack, but his conscience sided with his censurers; and the degraded
state to which clerical influence brought French actors in those days
might well cause a devout catholic to doubt the innocence of the drama.
A higher tone of feeling would have caused Racine to perceive that the
fault lay with the persecutors, not the persecuted; but though an
amiable and upright man, and a man of genius, he was in nothing beyond
his age.
As Racine continued to write, he used his powers with more freedom and
success. "Andromache," "Britannicus," and "Berenice" succeeded one to
the other. The first, we are told, had a striking success; and it was
said to have cost the life of Montfleuri, a celebrated actor, who put so
much passion into the part of Orestes that he fell a victim to the
excitement. "Berenice" was written at the desire of Henrietta of
England, duchess of Orleans. It was called a duel, since she imposed the
same subject, at the same time, on Corneille. Racine's was the better
tragedy, and must always be read with deep interest; for to its own
merit it adds the interest of commemorating the struggles of passion
that Louis XIV. experienced, when, in his early days, he loved that
charming princess. The subject, however, is too uniform, and the
catastrophe not sufficiently tragic. Boileau felt its defects; and said
that, had he been by, he would have prevented his friend's accepting the
princess's challenge to write on such a subject. When Chapelle was asked
what he thought of Berenice, he summed up the defects of the play in a
few words. "What I think?" he said, "why, Marion weeps; Marion sobs;
Marion wants to be married." That Racine should have excelled Corneille
on this subject is not to be wondered; but Corneille had still many
adherents who disdained, and tried to put down, his young rival. He had
habituated the French audiences to a more heroic cast of thought than
Racine could portray. The eager eloquence, the impetuous passions, and
even the love of the elder poet were totally unlike the softness and
tenderness of the younger. Racine, therefore encountered much criticism,
which rendered him very unhappy. He told his son, in after years, that
he suffered far more pain from the faults found with his productions
than he ever experienced pleasure from their success. This avowal at
once displays the innate weakness of the man.[101] Madame de Sévigné
was among the partisans of Corneille; and her criticism shows the
impression made on such by the new style of the young poet. "I send you
"Bajazet," she writes to her daughter: "I wish I could also send you
Champmélé to animate the piece. It contains agreeable passages, but
nothing perfectly beautiful; nothing that carries one away; none of
those tirades of Corneille that make one shudder. Racine can never be
compared to him. Let us always remember the difference. The former will
never go beyond "Andromache;" he writes parts for Champmélé, and not
for future ages. When he is no longer young, and has ceased to be
susceptible of love, he will cease to write as well as he now does."
This opinion is at least false. The tragedies of Racine still live, or
at least did so while Talma and the classic theatre survived in France.
And "Athalie," written in his more advanced years, is the best of his
works.
In the interval between "Andromaque" and "Britannicus" his comedy of
"Les Plaideurs" appeared. A sort of lay benefice had been conferred on
him, but he had scarcely obtained it when it was disputed by a priest;
and then began a lawsuit, which, as he says, "neither he nor his judges
understood." Tired out by law proceedings, weary of consulting advocates
and soliciting judges, he abandoned his benefice, consoling himself
meanwhile by writing the comedy of "Les Plaideurs," which was suggested
by it. We have spoken, in the preceding pages, of the suppers where
Racine, Boileau, Molière, and others met; in which they gave full play
to their fancy, and gaiety and wit were the order of the day. At these
suppers the plot of the projected comedy was talked over. One guest
provided him with the proper legal terms. Boileau furnished the idea of
the dispute between Chicaneau and the countess: he had witnessed a
similar scene in the apartments of his brother, a scrivener, between a
well-known lawyer and the countess de Crissé, who had passed her life,
and dissipated her property, in lawsuits. The parliament of Paris,
wearied by her pertinacious litigiousness, forbade her to carry on any
suit without the consent of two advocates, who were named. She was
furious at this sentence; and, after wearying judges, barristers, and
attorneys by her repinings, she visited Boileau's brother, where she met
the person in question. This man, a Paul Pry by inclination, was eager
to advise her: she was at first delighted, till he said something to
annoy her, and they quarrelled violently. This character being
introduced into the comedy, the actress, who took the part, mimicked the
poor countess to the life, even to the wearing a faded pink gown, such
as she usually wore. Many other traits of this comedy were anecdotes
actually in vogue; and the exordium of Intimé, who, when pleading about
a capon, adopted the opening of Cicero's oration, "Pro Quintio,"--"Quæ
res in civitate duæ plurimum possunt, hæ contra nos ambæ faciunt hoc
tempore, summa gratia et eloquentia," had actually been put to use by an
advocate in a petty cause between a baker and a pastrycook.
The humour of this piece show's that Racine might have succeeded in
comedy: it is full of comic situation, and the true spirit of
Aristophanic farce. Yet it did not at first succeed, either because the
audience could not at once enter into its spirit, or because it was
opposed by a cabal of persons who considered themselves attacked; and it
was withdrawn after thé second representation. Molière, however, saw
its merits; and, though he had quarrelled with the poet, he said aloud,
on quitting the theatre, "This is an excellent comedy; and those who
decry it deserve themselves to be decried." A month afterwards the
actors ventured to represent it at court. The king entered into the
spirit of the fun, and laughed so excessively that the courtiers were
astonished. The actors, delighted by this unhoped-for piece of good
fortune, returned to Paris the same night, and hastened to wake up the
author, to impart the news. The turmoil of their carriages in his quiet
street, in the middle of the night, awoke the neighbourhood: windows
were thrown open; and, as it had been said that a counsellor of state
had expressed great indignation against "Les Plaideurs," it was supposed
that the author was carried off to prison, for having dared to ridicule
the judges on the public stage; so that, while he was rejoicing at his
success, the report in Paris the next morning was that he had been
carried off in the night by a _lettre-de-cachet._
In 1673 Racine was elected into the French academy. The speech he made
on taking his seat was brief and courteous, but not humble, and
delivered in so low a voice that only those near him could hear it.
Meanwhile he continued to add to his reputation by bringing out his
tragedies of "Bajazet," "Mithridates," "Phædra," and "Iphigenia." Each
improving in his peculiar excellence, each found warm admirers and
bitter enemies. Pradon brought out a tragedy on the subject of Phædra
on the same day as Racine; and he had many partisans. Among them was the
duke de Montauzier, and all the clique of the Hôtel de Bouillon. They
carried their measures so far as to take the principal boxes, on the
first six nights of each piece, and thus filled the theatre, or kept it
empty, as they pleased. The chief friend of Pradon was madame des
Houlières; who favoured him, because she patronised all those poets
whom she judged incapable of writing as well as herself. She witnessed
the representation of Racine's play; and returned afterwards to a supper
of select friends, among whom was Pradon. The new tragedy was the
subject of conversation, each did their best to decry it; and madame des
Houlières wrote a mediocre sonnet enough, beginning--
"Dans un fauteuil doré, Phèdre, tremblante et blême,"
to turn it into ridicule. This sonnet had vogue in Paris. No one knew
who wrote it: it was attributed to the duke de Nevers, brother of the
celebrated duchess de Mazarin. The partisans of Racine parodied the
sonnet, under this idea; the parody beginning:
"Dans un Palais doré, Damon jaloux et blême,"
and even attacked the duchess, as
"Une sœur vagabonde, aux crins plus noirs que blonds."
This reply was attributed to Racine and Boileau. The duke de Nevers,
highly irritated, threatened personal chastisement in revenge. The
report spread that he meant to have them assassinated. They denied
having written the offending sonnet; and the son of the great Condé
went to them, and said, "If you did not write it, come to the Hôtel de
Condé, where the prince can protect you, as you are innocent. If you
did write it, still come to the Hôtel de Condé, and the prince will
take you under his protection, as the sonnet is both pleasant and
witty." An answer was reiterated to the parody, with the same rhymes,
beginning:
"Racine et Despréaux, l'air triste et le teint blême."
The quarrel was afterwards appeased, when it was discovered that certain
young nobles, and not the poets, were the authors of the first parody.
This last adventure, joined to other circumstances, caused Racine to
resolve on renouncing the drama. The opinions of the recluses of the
Port Royal concerning its wickedness were deeply rooted in his heart.
Though in the fervour of youth, composition, and success, he had
silenced his scruples, they awoke, after a suspension, with redoubled
violence. He not only resolved to write no more, but imposed severe
penances on himself in expiation for those he had already written, and
even wished to turn _chartreux_. Religion with him took the narrowest
priestly form, redeemed only by the native gentleness and tenderness of
his disposition. These qualities made him listen to his confessor, who
advised him, instead of becoming a monk, to marry some woman of a pious
turn, who would be his companion in working out his salvation. He
followed this counsel, and married Catherine de Romanet, a lady of a
position in life and fortune similar to his own.
[Sidenote: 1677.
Ætat.
38.]
This marriage decided his future destiny. His wife had never read nor
seen his tragedies; she knew their names but by hearsay; she regarded
poetry as an abomination; she looked on prayer and church-going as the
only absolutely proper occupations of life. She was of an over-anxious
disposition, and not a little narrow-minded. But she was conscientious,
upright, sincere, affectionate, and grateful. She gave her husband good
advice, and, by the calmness of her temper, smoothed the irritability of
his. His letters to his son give us pleasing pictures of his affection
for his wife and children; melancholy ones of the effects of his
opinions. The young mind is timid: it is easily led to fear death, and
to doubt salvation, and to throw itself into religion as a refuge from
the phantasmal horrors of another world. One after the other of Racine's
children resolved to take monastic vows. His sons lost their vocation
when thrown into active life; but the girls, brought up in convents, of
gentle, pliant, and enthusiastic dispositions, were more firm, and
either took the vows in early youth--which devoted them to lives of
hardship and self-denial--or had their young hearts torn by the
struggles between the world and (not God) but the priests. Racine, on
the whole, acted kindly and conscientiously, and endeavoured to prove
their vocation before he consented to the final sacrifice; but the
nature of their education, and his own feelings, prevented all fair
trial; and his joy at their steadiness, his annoyance in their
vacillation, betrays itself in his letters. His income, derived from the
king's pensions and the place of historiographer, was restricted; and
though the king made him presents, yet these were not more than
commensurate to his increased expenses when in attendance at court. He
had seven children: he found it difficult, therefore, to give doweries
to all the girls; and worldly reasoning came to assist and consolidate
sentiments which sprang originally from bigotry.
One of the first acts of Racine, on entering on this new life, was to
reconcile himself to his friends of the Port Royal. He easily made his
peace with M. Nicole, who did not know what enmity was, and who received
him with open arms. M. Arnaud was not so facile: his sister, mother
Angelica, had been ridiculed by Racine, and he could not forgive him.
Boileau endeavoured in vain to bring about a reconciliation: he found M.
Arnaud impracticable. At length he determined on a new mode of attack;
and he went to the doctor, taking the tragedy of "Phaedra" with him,
with the intention of proving that a play may be innocent in the eyes of
the severest jansenist. Boileau, as he walked towards the learned and
pious doctor's house, reasoned with himself:--"Will this man," he
thought, "always fancy himself in the right? and cannot I prove to him
that he is in the wrong? I am quite sure that I am in the right now;
and, if he will not agree with me, he must be in the wrong." He found
Arnaud with a number of visitors: he presented the book, and read at the
same time the passage from the preface in which the author testifies his
desire to be reconciled to persons of piety. Boileau then went on to say
that his friend had renounced the theatre; but at the same time he
maintained, that, if the drama was dangerous, it was the fault of the
poets; but that "Phædra" contained nothing but what was morally
virtuous. The audience, consisting of young jansenist clergymen, smiled
contemptuously; but M. Arnaud replied, "If it be so, there is no harm in
this tragedy."
Boileau declared he never felt so happy in his life as on hearing this
declaration: he left the hook, and returned a few days afterwards for
the doctor's opinion: it was favourable, and leave was given him to
bring his friend the following day. Louis Racine's account of the
interview gives a singular picture of manners. "They (Boileau and
Racine) went together; and, though a numerous company was assembled, the
culprit entered, with humility and confusion depicted on his
countenance, and threw himself at M. Arnaud's feet, who followed his
example, and they embraced. M. Arnaud promised to forget the past, and
to be his friend for the future--a promise which he faithfully kept."
This same year Racine was named historiographer to the king, together
with his friend. In some sort this may be considered fortunate; since,
having renounced poetry, he might have neglected literature, had not
this new employment given him a subject which he deemed exalted in its
nature. How strangely is human nature constituted. Racine made a scruple
of writing tragedies, or, indeed, poetry of any kind that was not
religious. He believed that it was impious to commemorate in lofty verse
the heroic emotions of our nature, or to dress in the beautiful colours
of poetry the gentle sorrows of the loving heart: from such motives he
gave up his best title to fame, his dearest occupation; but he had no
scruple in following his sovereign to the wars, and in beholding the
attack and defence of towns. "I was at some distance," he writes to
Boileau, "but could see the whole assault perfectly through a glass,
which, indeed, I could scarcely hold steady enough to look through--my
heart beat so fast to see so many brave men cut down." Still there was
no scruple here, though the unjustifiable nature of Louis XIV.'s wars
afforded no excuse for the misery and desolation he spread around.
This contradiction strikes us yet more forcibly in his letters to his
son, which are full of moral precepts, and just and enlightened advice
on literary subjects. Had he been a soldier, it had made a natural
portion of the picture; but that a man at once of a lively imagination,
tender disposition, and pious sentiments, and who, we are told, evinced
particular regard for his own person, should, day after day, view the
cruelties and ravages of war _en amateur_ shocks our moral sense.
Racine was servile. This last worst fault he owed, doubtless, to his
monkish education, which gave that turn to his instinctive wish to gain
the sympathy and approbation of his associates. His devotion was
servile. He deserves the praise, certainly, of preferring his God to his
king; for he continued a jansenist, though the king reprobated that sect
and upheld the jesuits, as his own party; yet he never blamed Racine for
his adherence to the Port Royal, so he was never tempted to abandon it.
His veneration for the king--his fear, his adulation--were carried to a
weakness. It is true that it is difficult for a bold, impossible for a
feeble, mind to divest itself of a certain sort of worship for the first
man of the age; and Louis was certainly the first of his. Racine also
liked the refinements of a court; he prided himself on being a courtier.
He succeeded better than Boileau, who had no ambition of the sort; yet
he could never attain that perfect self-possession, joined to an
insinuating and easy address, that marks the man bred in a court, and
assured of his station in it. "Look at those two men," said the king,
seeing Racine and M. de Cavoie walking together; "I often see them
together, and I know the reason. Cavoie fancies himself a wit while
conversing with Racine, and Racine fancies himself a courtier while
talking to Cavoie." It must not be supposed, however, that he carried
his courtier-like propensities to any contemptible excess. His
affectionate disposition found its greatest enjoyment at home; and he
often left the palace to enjoy the society of his wife and children. His
son relates, that one day, having just returned from Versailles to enjoy
this pleasure, an attendant of the duke came to invite him to dine at
the Hôtel de Condé. "I cannot go," said Racine; "I have returned to my
family after an absence of eight days; they have got a fine carp for me,
and would be much disappointed if I did not share it with them."
In the life of Boileau there is mention of the poet's first campaign,
and the pleasantries that ensued. Boileau never attended another; but
Racine followed the king in several; and his correspondence with his
friend from the camp is very pleasing. Whatever faults might diminish
the brightness of his character, he had a charming simplicity, a warmth
of heart, a turn for humour, and a modesty, that make us love the man.
His life was peaceful: his attendance at court, domestic peace, the
open-hearted intimacy between him and Boileau, were the chief incidents
of his life. "The friends were very dissimilar," says Louis Racine; "but
they delighted in each other's society: probity was the link of the
union." He attended the academy also. It fell to him to receive Thomas
Corneille, when he was chosen member in place of the great Corneille.
Racine's address pleased greatly.
[Sidenote: 1684.
Ætat.
45.]
His praise of his great rival was considered as generous as it was just.
To this he added an eulogium on the king, which caused Louis to command
him to recite his speech afterwards to him. At one time he was led to
break his resolution to write no more poetry, by the request of the
marquis of Seignelay, who gave a fête to the king at his house at
Sceaux; and on this occasion Racine wrote his "Idyl on Peace."
In a biography of this kind, where the events are merely the every-day
occurrences of life, anecdotes form a prominent portion, and a few may
here be introduced. Racine had not Boileau's wit, but he had more
humour, and a talent for raillery. Boileau represented to him the danger
of yielding to this, even among friends. One day, after a rather warm
discussion, in which Racine had rallied his friend unmercifully, Boileau
said composedly, "Did you wish to annoy me?" "God forbid!" cried the
other. "Well, then," said Boileau, "you were in the wrong, for you did
annoy me." On occasion of another such dispute, carried on in the same
manner, Boileau exclaimed, "Well, then, I am in the wrong; but I would
rather be wrong than be so insolently right." He listened to his
friend's reprimand with docility. Always endeavouring to correct the
defects of his character, he never received a reproof but he turned his
eyes inward to discover whether it was just, and to amend the fault that
occasioned it. He tells his son in a letter, that accustomed, while a
young man, to live among friends who rallied each other freely on their
defects, he never took offence, but profited by the lessons thus
conveyed. Such, however, is human blindness, that he never perceived the
injurious tendency of his chief defect--weakness of character. He
displays this amusingly enough in some anecdotes he has recorded of
Louis XIV., in which the magnanimity of the monarch is lauded for the
gentleness with which he reproved an attendant for giving him an unaired
shirt.