RACINE, John, a great and illustrious French poet, was born at Ferte-Milon on the 21st of December. 1630. He was the son of John Racine, controller of the salt magazine of that city, and of Joan Sconin, daughter of the king’s warden of the woods and waters of Villers-Caterets. Deprived of his father and mother at the early age of three, he passed under tile guardianship of his paternal grandfather, also named John Racine, who, not long afterwards, bequeathed the trust to his widow. He studied first at Beauvais; next at Paris, in the college of Fearcount; and lastly at Port-Royal-des-Champs, whither a number of eminent persons had retired to devote themselves to piety and the instruction of youth, amongst whom were the advocate Lemaitre, Dr. Hamon, Nicoe, Lacy, and Launcelot, authors of the Logic, the General Grammar, and other works, known under the title of Me· thodes de Port-Royal. Launcelot, in particular, undertook to teach Greek to the youthful Racine. But besides the taste for sound literature and serious studies, these mn-mortal solitaries inspired their pupil with those religious principles which never abandoned him, and which were common to an the great writers and great men of that age. The docility of Racine towards his masters equalled his ardour for study. On one occasion, however, he showed himself refractory. Having accidentally met with the Greek romance of Theagenes and Chariclea, he commenced the perusal of this work of fiction, when his master surprising him, whilst thus engaged, took from him the book, and consigned it to the flames. The youth procured another copy, and learned it by heart, after which he placed it in the hands of Launcelot, saying, “You may bum this also.” An act of disobedience of a kind so novel was the more readily excused because it was not likely to have many imitators.

The first poetical essay of Racine was La Nymphe de la Seine, an ode which he composed for the marriage of Louis XIV. and which having made him known to Chaplain, the temporary arbiter of literary reputations and court favours, produced him a hundred louis, which Colbert sent him on the part of the king; and not long afterwards, he received a pension of six hundred livres. Four years later, towards the close of 1663, another ode, La Renommée aux Muses, composed on the occasion of the establishment of the three Academies, procured for him a second royal gratuity, the order for which was couched in terms peculiarly flattering to the youthful poet. This ode, though inferior to the preceding, was nevertheless more fortunate. Recompensed, like the other, by the king, it had the good fortune to be criticised by Boileau. The poet took an early opportunity to thank the critic, and this proved the origin of that connexion so intimate, so honourable, so useful to Racine, and which was not one of the least advantages which fortune gave him over Corneille. A little before this period, Racine had made the acquaintance of Molière, and had communicated to him a tragedy, entitled Theagene et Chari-clee, taken from the romance, which had afforded him such delight at Port-Royal. Molière, disapproving of this production, gave him the plan of the Thébaide, ou les Frères Ennemis, a subject on which it is alleged that he had himself been engaged. Racine executed the design, and the piece had some success. Alexandre, which was performed the following year, 1665, met with a still more favourable reception, and showed great progress in the versification of the author, who was then only twenty-five years of age. But, excepting the verses, neither of these works gave any indication of what Racine afterwards proved. They were but feeble imitations of Corneille, of whom, by a misfortune common to all imitators, Racine had only adopted the defects; that is, the cold gallantry mixed with heroism, the idle maxims, the metaphysical reasonings, and the elaborate declamation. Corneille, to whom Racine read his Alexandre, counselled him, it is said, to write no more tragedies. At a subsequent period the same advice was given to Voltaire by Fontenelle, after the reading of Brutus. But it is fortunate for letters that such counsels are never followed. Voltaire replied to Fontenelle by the production of Zaire, and Racine responded to Comeille by that of his Andro-maque. Finding himself pursuing a wrong direction, he suddenly changed his route and took a different one, unknown perhaps even to Comeille himself. The latter had astonished and surprised his audience; his young rival sought to move and to soften them. Pity appeared to him a tragic resource more active, more extensive, and of an effect more penetrating and less transitory, than admiration. He studied the human heart, its passions, its weaknesses, and its most secret recesses, and there he discovered a species of tragedy altogether new, of which he gave the first and probably most inimitable model in his Andromaque; that one of all his tragedies which, without being the most perfect, produces the greatest effect on the stage, by the vigorous and just expression of the sentiments and characters, and by the alternations of hope and fear, of terror and pity, with which the poet agitates the soul.

The representation of the Andromaque in 1667, was followed almost every year by a new masterpiece. But at first Racine surprised the public by an excursion into the domain of Molière. The Plaideurs, imitated from the Wasps of Aristophanes, is a comedy the plot of which is somewhat feeble and inartificial; but in nature, truth, facility, and [7:19:6]gaiety, it is admirable, and its verses became so fixed in the general mind that they passed into proverbs. The piece was first represented at Paris in 1668, when it was indifferently received; but it succeeded pretty well at Versailles, and the players, elated with the success, came to awaken Racine in the middle of the night, to communicate the good news. The noise of vehicles at such an hour, in the Rue des Marais, convinced first the neighbours, and next day all Paris, that justice had avenged itself on the author of the Plaideurs, by causing him to be seized and sent to the Bastille. This pleasant mistake, and the knowledge which soon became general, that the comedy had obtained the suffrage of the monarch, conciliated the favour of the loyal Parisians; and from that time the piece has continued in possession of the stage, privileged to extort a smile, perchance a laugh, even from the iron visage of justice herself It is not true, as has sometimes been said, that the Plaideurs is the work of several hands. Racine may have received from his friends hints or suggestions for some scenes, and borrowed from certain hommes de palais, or gentlemen of the robe, some formulas and expressions foreign to his habitual studies; but the unity of the style and the general coherence of the whole are too perfect to be the work of any but one and the same hand.

The success of the Andromaque, which was only equalled by that of the Cid, had excited envy; perhaps, also, it had rendered the public fastidious. In 1669, Britannicus was coldly received, and with difficulty reached the eighth representation. At first no one felt the truth, the depth, and the force displayed in the magnificent historical picture of Nero and his court. Boileau alone was struck with its merit, and hurrying to embrace Racine, he exclaimed, “Voila ce que vous avez fait de mieux.” This great critic was not only useful to Racine in praising his performance, his severity was of full more service in inducing him to suppress two scenes which deformed his work; one between Burrhus and Narcissa, at the commencement of the third act; and another, in the fifth, in which Junia is brought back into the presence of Nero. Britannicus was followed by Berenice, which, in some respects, is one of the most remarkable of Racine’s works. At the solicitation of the celebrated Henrietta of England, Racine and Corneille both treated this subject which is so little fitted for representation, neither being aware that the other was engaged upon it. Besides the pleasure of seeing two illustrious rivals unconsciously contending for the palm, this princess secretly promised herself another, in the treatment of the heroic separation of the two august lovers; but a premature death deprived her of the pleasure she had anticipated, in witnessing this singular competition. Three words of Suetonius represent the subject of the piece: Invitus invitam dimisit; too slight a foundation upon which to work, and in the case of Corneille, who was now old, an ungrateful task, far more dangerous to him than even to Racine. The two rival plays were represented towards the close of 1670; that of Corneille at the Palais-Royal, by the company of Molière, and that of Racine at the Hôtel de Bourgogne. Corneille’s totally failed; that of Racine had thirty consecutive representations, during which it drew tears alike from the court and the city. The great Conde replied to some criticisms which were made in his hearing in the following verses of the piece itself:

Depuis cinq ans entiers chaque jour je la vois,

Et crois toujours la voir pour la première fois.

It has been said, and even zealous admirers of Racine have confessed, that Berenice was not a veritable tragedy. But, tragedy or drama, what signifies the title which maybe given to it, provided we be agreed that it is a miracle of art, and that never, in any piece, were greater difficulties more meritoriously overcome. The style possesses exquisite beauties in detail, and an inexpressible charm pervades the diction throughout.

Bajazet appeared in 1672, and obtained immediate vogue, partly, no doubt, from the novelty of the manners and costumes, but in a greater degree, from admiration of the force and truth with which the poet had delineated the characters of Roxana and Acomat; two real creations, which, in spite of all its faults, will make Bgjazet immortal. At the same time, there is not a little truth in the remark of Corneille, that though the costumes be Turkish, the characters are French. Mithridate, which was represented for the first time in January 1678, is, according to Lallarpe, the work where Racine appears to have come nearest to Corneille in bringing on the stage the great personages of antiquity, as they are delineated in history. Few characters, indeed, have, upon the whole, been more vigorously traced than that of Mithridates; and were it not that Racine, sacrificing to the taste of the time, has made the hero amorous and jealous, Corneille would not have enjoyed unquestioned supremacy in reviving and reanimating history. Voltaire regards Iphigénie, first represented in 1674, as the masterpiece of the stage. Do we desire grandeur? We find it in Achilles. Do we wish for true policy? It is exemplified in the part of Ulysses; a policy founded solely on the love of the public good, and equally adroit, dignified, and resolute. Clytem-nestra is the model of the lofty pathetic; Iphigenia, that of noble and touching simplicity. Agamemnon is as he should be; and, then as to the style, Voltaire has declared it to be the true sublime. Three years elapsed between tile appearance of Iphigénie and that of Phèdre, which was first represented in 1677. The former had been the object of sundry ill-natured and depreciatory criticisms; but all these were only a feeble essay, or rather a mere foretaste, of the attacks which were now directed against the latter, chiefly at the instigation of the Duke de Nevers and the Duchess de Bouillon, nephew and niece of Cardinal Mazarin, the declared enemies of Racine, though for what reason does not appear. Every engine was put in action to ensure the condemnation of Racine’s Phèdre, and extol to the skies that of Pradon, a person of no genius, and whose name is not worth remembering, except that he was employed by the chiefs of his odious cabal to have a drama on the same subject ready for representation against the time when Racine’s was to appear. Pradon lent himself to the vengeance of these intriguers; his Phèdre was represented four days after that of Racine; and, for the moment, the cabal were successful. But, in about a year, each piece found its natural level, and Pradon and his Phèdre were alike forgotten or despised.

This tardy reparation, however, could not console Racine; and, besides, it was poisoned by new indignities, which were heaped upon him by his indefatigable enemies. Disgusted with the theatre, where he had met with such injustice, he now determined to renounce it for ever; though not more than thirty-eight years of age, and still in all the vigour and maturity of his genius. Besides, in his infancy, he had imbibed a deep sense of religion, which, suppressed for a while by his connexion with the theatre, now returned in full force. He conceived that his past life had been full of errors, nay, even tainted by vices, and, under this impression he not only resolved to write no more plays, but had even thoughts of devoting himself to penitence and prayer in monastic solitude. His spiritual guide, however, justly distrusting a zeal springing out of wounded feelings, advised him to marry and settle in the world; and this judicious advice Racine had the good sense to comply withal. In the year 1677 he married the daughter of the treasurer of Amiens, a fortunate choice, which greatly contributed to his future happiness. He next effected a reconciliation with the solitaries of Port-Royal, whose censures of dramatic composition, which had formerly offended him, he now acknow[7:19:7]ledged. He first made his peace with Nicoe, who received him with open arms; and Boileau introduced him to Ar-nauld, who also embraced him tenderly, at the same time freely forgiving him all his satire. About the same time Louis XIV. appointed Racine and Boileau historiographers of France, upon the understanding, of course, that they were to write the history of his reign; and the public expected great things from two writers of such distinguished reputation. But both the king and his subjects were equally disappointed. Boileau and Racine, after having for some time laboured at the work, perceived that it was entirely opposite to the genius of each; and they also judged, with reason, that the history of such a king could not, and indeed ought not, to be written until long after his death, unless it were to be made up of extracts of gazettes and such like materials.

During a period of twelve years, Racine had steadily adhered to his resolution not to write any more poetry, especially for the stage; but the entreaties of Madame de Main-tenon so far prevailed as to induce him to resume his dramatic character, and in consequence he composed his Esther, which was to be represented, not on the French stage, but in the house of Saint-Cyr. On the 20th of January 1689, it was performed for the first time, and had prodigious success. “It appears to me very remarkable,” says Voltaire, “that this tragedy should then have had universal success, and that two years afterwards Athalie, though performed by the same persons, had none. It happened quite otherwise when these pieces were acted at Paris long after the death of the author, and when prejudice and partiality had ceased. Athalie, represented in 1717, was received, as it deserved to be, with transport; whilst Esther, in 1721, inspired nothing but coldness, and never appeared again. But at that time there were no courtiers who complaisantly acknowledged Esther in Madame de Maintenon, and with equal malignity saw Vashti in Madame de Montespan, Haman in M. de Louvois, and above all, the persecution of the Hugonots by this minister, in the proscription of the Hebrew’s.” The same writer, who had no taste for scriptural subjects, thinks the story of Esther uninteresting and even improbable; “but, notwithstanding the badness of the subject,” he adds, “thirty verses of Esther are of more value than many tragedies which have had great success.”

Athalie, composed, like Esther, for Saint-Cyr, had, as already intimated, a very different fate. Envy masked under a false zeal prevented the representation. It was only performed twice at Versailles, in a chamber without scenes and costumes, by the ladies of Saint-Cyr. Racine having Originally intended it for publication, now sent it to the press; but, to the eternal disgrace of the age and nation, this masterpiece of sublime genius, unsurpassed either in ancient or in modern times, found no readers; and, in some societies of pretended wits, the perusal of it was ironically prescribed as penance. It is in truth lamentable to think that Racine should have descended to the grave suffering under this injustice, and with the bitter feeling of seeing his age dissatisfied with his immortal work. In vain did Arnauld, from the depth of his solitude, try to sustain, by his suffrage, the sinking spirits of his old pupil; in vain did Boileau repeat, “C’est votre meilleur ouvrage, le public y reviendra.” Racine almost believed that he had survived his genius, and the authority of Boileau, so potential with posterity, was disregarded during the lifetime of his friend. This second injustice of the public towards Racine reopened the wound inflicted by the first, completed his disgust, and decided him to abandon definitively writing for the theatre, which, in fact, his religious impressions had, for some time, led him to regard as incompatible with the Christian life. He accordingly withdrew' from all connection with the stage, and employed the remainder of his days in the grateful and almost filial task of composing a history of Port-Royal, the place of his education, which is drawn up with equal taste and elegance, but was not published till 1767, when it appeared in two volumes 12mo.

Racine, although he had conversed much with the court, had not learned to disguise his sentiments, the usual, perhaps the necessary accomplishment of a courtier. In 1697, during one of those interviews which Madame de Maintenon frequently granted him, the conversation having turned upon the misery of the people exhausted by long wars, and the best means of affording them relief, this celebrated woman entreated the poet to throw his ideas on the subject into the form of a memoir, promising that the writing should not pass out of her hands. Racine consented, not from the mere complaisance of a courtier, and still less from any ambitious view, which the whole tenor of his life contradicts, but solely with the design of being useful. The king surprised this memoir in the hands of his mistress, and the name of the author was disclosed. Perhaps the lesson was a little too direct, since the monarch, who had all along favoured the poet, immediately took offence. “Because he makes good verses,” said Louis, “does he think he knows every thing? and because he is a great poet, does hepretend to be a statesman ?” Racine was greatly hurt by this observation, not from any selfish consideration, but from the idea of having unnecessarily offended his royal benefactor. But to say as some have done, that it shortened his days, is manifestly absurd. His constitution had for several years been sinking under the wasting influence of excitement, and, in consequence, the term of his earthly career was now fast approaching. During his last illness, however, the king evinced the greatest interest in the expiring poet, about whom he daily sent to make the most anxious inquiries; and his benefits followed him even beyond the tomb. Racine died on the 22d of April, 1699, after much suffering, borne with truly Christian fortitude, and was interred, according to his wish, at Port-Royal, at the feet of Dr. Hamon, that he might not be separated even in death, from the master whom he so loved and respected in life. After the destruction of this monastery, his remains were transported to Paris, and deposited in the church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, where they were placed beside those of Pascal.

Racine was naturally melancholy when alone, though gentle and pleasing with others. His nature was tender and affectionate, inclined to indulge sorrowful or religious emotions rather than those which spring out of mirth or joy. He was generous, and knew how to preserve the means of being so by much order and economy. He afforded assistance to a number of distant relations, and had a regard almost filial for his nurse, whom he did not forget in his will. There was no better husband, no more affectionate father. The Christian education of his children formed his chief concern. He had family prayers daily, at the same time reading and explaining a portion of the gospel to his wife, his children, and his domestics. During the last ten years of his life, all his pleasures, and all his happiness were concentred in his domestic circle. He no longer went to court except when called thither by the duties of his charge, and the interests of his family; and yet who else could boast of the same meansof pleasing and making himself beloved; his fine and noble figure, his gracious manners, all the charms of wit, all the splendour of renown, united with the happy art of causing them to be forgotten? He was, indeed, what the ladies of Saint-Cyr described him, a man of great genius and great simplicity; and he had, in fact, enchanted the world, more by the amenity and grace of his instructions, than by his talent for declamation, which, however, he possessed in the very highest degree. No man of his time read and recited better than Racine. One day, at Boileau’s, in his house at Anteuil, reading and translating off-hand the (Edipus of Sophocles, he drew tears from all present. He also taught Baron and La Champmale a system of declamation more conformable to nature and good taste, or. to express it [7:19:8]more correctly, he taught them to speak and not to declaim.

Asto his works, his countrymen have reason to be proud of them. He is the poet of theheart and the affections, and yields to none in the truth, the beauty, and the force of his delineations. If Corneillesurpassed him in heroic sentiments, and the grand character of his personages, he was inferior to Racine in moving the passions, and in purity of diction. Such is the perfection of Racine in this last respect, that in all his pieces, there is not perhaps, we do not say a scene, but even a single verse, which could be replaced by another. All is just and true; all is full of that poetry of images and sentiments, and that continued elegance which, since the time of the Greeks, Virgil and Racine have alone possessed. But above all, it is in Esther and in Athalie, particularly in the choruses of these two tragedies, that, sustained by the most sublime models, he is himself almost always sublime. It is there that Racine has all the elevation of a Hebrew prophet, who had come to announce divine truths in strains almost divine. But that which chiefly characterises Racine is the complete union, perhaps unique, of two qualities which appear to be incompatible; of imagination the most brilliant, and reason the most perfect, of sensibility the most exquisite, with good sense the most invariable. Reason, in fact, as much and even more perhaps than imagination, predominates in the conception of his most touching productions, in the execution of his most dramatic scenes, in the choice of his richest expressions, and in his boldest combinations, as well as most elliptical turns. Boileau, who has been surnamed the poet of reason, is not, even in this view, superior to Racine; and, besides, the quality here mentioned is the less astonishing in him, because it is accompanied with an imagination much less lively. Racine has often been pronounced the greatest of the French poets. He should also be set down as the most rational; or rather, it is precisely because he really is the most rational, that he is likewise the greatest.

There are some smaller pieces of Racine which hate not been mentioned in the course of this article, particularly Idylle sur la Paix, 1685; Discours prononcé à l’Académie Française, en 1685; Cantiques Spirituelles, 1689; and Epigrammes Diverses. The most complete edition of the Works of Racine is that which M. Aimé Martin published at Paris in six vols. 8vo. in 1820, reprinted by Lefèvre in 1822.