RACINE.

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called a duel, since she imposed the same subject, at thesame time, on Corneille. Racine ’s was the better tragedy,and must always be read with deep interest; for to itsown merit it adds the interest of commemoratingthe struggles of passion that Louis XIV . experienced,when, in his early days, he loved that charmingprincess. The subject, however, is too uniform, andthe catastrophe not sufficiently tragic. Boileau felt itsdefects; and said that, had he been by, he wouldhave prevented his friend’s accepting the princess’schallenge to write on such a subject. When Cha-pelle was asked what he thought of Berenice, hesummed 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.” ThatRacine should have excelled Corneille on this subjectis not to be wondered; but Corneille had still manyadherents who disdained, and tried to put down, hisyoung rival. He had habituated the French audiencesto amore heroic cast of thought than Racine could portray.The eager eloquence, the impetuous passions, and eventhe love of the elder poet were totally unlike the soft-ness and tenderness of the younger. Racine , thereforeencountered much criticism, which rendered him veryunhappy. He told his son, in after years, that he sufferedfar more pain from the faults found with his produc-tions than he ever experienced pleasure from theirsuccess. This avowal at once displays the innate weak-ness of the man.* Madame de Sevigne was among

* 3oiIeau’s virile and independent mind was far above the weakness ofhis friend, and doubtless deplored it. At once to console, and to elevatehim to a higher tone of feeling, he addressed an epistle to him, in which arethe allowing lines : —

“ Toi done, qui t’elevant sur la scene tragique, . ,

Suis les pas de Sophocle, et seul de tant d’Esprits,

De Corneille vielli sait consoler Paris ,

Cesse de t’etonner, si I’envie animee,

Attachant £ ton nom sa rouille envenimee,’

La calomnie en main, quelquefois te poursuit.

En cela, comme en tout, leciel qui nous conduit,

Racine , fait briber sa profonde sagesse;

Le merite en repos s’endort dans la paresse :

Mais par les envieux un genie excite,

Au cornble de son art est mille fois monte.

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