To which of us to-day
Owes he the sceptre?
Owes he the sceptre?
Warner - World's Best Literature - v21 - Rab to Rus
The venery was a little
further off, drawing towards the park.
All the halls, chambers, and cabinets were hung with tapestry
of divers sorts, according to the seasons of the year. All the
pavements were covered with green cloth. The beds were em-
broidered. In every back chamber there was a looking-glass of
pure crystal, set in a frame of fine gold garnished with pearls,
and of such greatness that it would represent to the full the
whole person.
At the going out of the halls belonging to the
ladies' lodgings were the perfumers and hair-dressers, through
whose hands the gallants passed when they were to visit the
## p. 12023 (#57) ###########################################
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12023
ladies. These did every morning furnish the ladies chambers
with rose-water, musk, and angelica; and to each of them gave a
little smelling-bottle breathing the choicest aromatical scents.
The ladies on the foundation of this order were appareled
after their own pleasure and liking. But since, of their own free
will, they were reformed in manner as followeth :-
They wore stockings of scarlet which reached just three inches.
above the knee, having the border beautified with embroideries.
and trimming. Their garters were of the color of their brace-
lets, and circled the knee both over and under. Their shoes and
slippers were either of red, violet, or crimson velvet, cut à barbe
d'écrévisse.
Next to their smock they put on a fair corset of pure silk
camblet; above that went the petticoat of white, red tawny, or
gray taffety. Above this was the cotte in cloth of silver, with
needlework either (according to the temperature and disposition
of the weather) of satin, damask, velvet, orange, tawny, green,
ash-colored, blue, yellow, crimson, cloth of gold, cloth of silver,
or some other choice stuff, according to the day.
Their gowns, correspondent to the season, were either of cloth
of gold with silver edging, of red satin covered with gold purl,
of taffety, white, blue, black, or tawny, of silk serge, silk cam-
blet, velvet, cloth of silver, silver tissue, cloth of gold, velvet, or
figured satin with golden threads.
In the summer, some days, instead of gowns, they wore fair
mantles of the above-named stuff, or capes of violet velvet with
edging of gold, or with knotted cordwork of gold embroidery,
garnished with little Indian pearls. They always carried a fair
plume of feathers, of the color of their muff, bravely adorned with
spangles of gold. In the winter-time they had their taffety
gowns of all colors, as above named, and those lined with the
rich furrings of wolves, weasels, Calabrian martlet, sables, and
other costly furs. Their beads, rings, bracelets, and collars were
of precious stones, such as carbuncles, rubies, diamonds, sap-
phires, emeralds, turquoises, garnets, agates, beryls, and pearls.
Their head-dressing varied with the season of the year. In
winter it was of the French fashion; in the spring of the Span-
ish; in summer of the fashion of Tuscany, except only upon
the holy-days and Sundays, at which times they were accoutred
in the French mode, because they accounted it more honorable,
better befitting the modesty of a matron.
## p. 12024 (#58) ###########################################
12024
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
The men were appareled after their fashion. Their stockings
were of worsted or of serge, of white, black, or scarlet. Their
breeches were of velvet, of the same color with their stockings,
or very near, embroidered and cut according to their fancy.
Their doublet was of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, velvet, satin,
damask, or taffety, of the same colors, cut, embroidered, and
trimmed up in the same manner. The points were of silk of
the same colors, the tags were of gold enameled. Their coats
and jerkins were of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, gold tissue,
or velvet embroidered, as they thought fit. Their gowns were
every whit as costly as those of the ladies. Their girdles were
of silk, of the color of their doublets. Every one had a gallant
sword by his side, the hilt and handle whereof were gilt, and the
scabbard of velvet, of the color of his breeches, the end in gold,
and goldsmith's work. The dagger of the same.
Their caps
were of black velvet, adorned with jewels and buttons of gold.
Upon that they wore a white plume, most prettily and minion-
like parted by so many rows of gold spangles, at the end where-
of hung dangling fair rubies, emeralds, etc.
But so great was the sympathy between the gallants and the
ladies, that every day they were appareled in the same livery.
And that they might not miss, there were certain gentlemen ap-
pointed to tell the youths every morning what colors the ladies.
would on that day wear; for all was done according to the pleas-
ure of the ladies. In these so handsome clothes, and habiliments
so rich, think not that either one or other of either sex did waste
any time at all; for the masters of the wardrobes had all their
raiments and apparel so ready for every morning, and the
chamber-ladies were so well skilled, that in a trice they would be
dressed, and completely in their clothes from head to foot. And
to have these accoutrements with the more conveniency, there
was about the wood of Thelema a row of houses half a league
long, very neat and cleanly, wherein dwelt the goldsmiths, lapi-
daries, embroiderers, tailors, gold-drawers, velvet-weavers, tapestry-
makers, and upholsterers, who wrought there every one in his
own trade, and all for the aforesaid friars and nuns. They were
furnished with matter and stuff from the hands of Lord Nausi-
clete, who every year brought them seven ships from the Perlas
and Cannibal Islands, laden with ingots of gold, with raw silk,
with pearls and precious stones. And if any pearls began to
grow old, and lose somewhat of their natural whiteness and lus-
## p. 12025 (#59) ###########################################
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12025
tre, those by their art they did renew by tendering them to cocks
to be eaten, as they used to give casting unto hawks.
All their life was spent not in laws, statutes, or rules, but
according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose out of
their beds when they thought good; they did eat, drink, labor,
sleep, when they had a mind to it, and were disposed for it.
None did awake them, none did constrain them to eat, drink, nor
do any other thing; for so had Gargantua established it. In all
their rule, and strictest tie of their order, there was but this one
clause to be observed:
_______
FAY CE QUE VOULDRAS
Because men that are free, well born, well bred, and conver-
sant in honest companies, have naturally an instinct and spur
that prompteth them unto virtuous actions and withdraws them
from vice, which is called honor. Those same men, when by
base subjection and constraint they are brought under and kept
down, turn aside from that noble disposition by which they
formerly were inclined to virtue, to shake off and break the bond
of servitude; for it is agreeable with the nature of man to long
after things forbidden, and to desire what is denied.
By this liberty they entered into a very laudable emulation:
to do all of them what they saw did please one. If any of the
gallants or ladies should say, "Let us drink," they would all
drink. If any one of them said, "Let us play," they all played.
If one said, "Let us go for our delight into the fields," they
went all. If it were to go a-hawking or a-hunting, the ladies,
mounted upon well-paced nags, carried on their lovely fists (min-
iardly begloved every one of them) either a sparrow-hawk, or a
laneret, or a merlin, and the gallants carried the other kinds of
birds. So nobly were they taught, that there was not one amongst
them but could read, write, sing, play upon musical instruments,
speak five or six several languages, and compose in them all very
quaintly, both in verse and prose. Never were seen knights
so valiant, so noble and worthy, so dexterous and skillful both
on foot and a-horseback, more active, more nimble and quick, or
better handling all manner of weapons, than were there. Never
were seen ladies so proper, so miniard, less forward, or more
ready with hand and needle in every honest and free action
belonging to that sex, than were there.
## p. 12026 (#60) ###########################################
12026
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
For this reason, when the time came that any man of the said
abbey, either at the request of his parents or for some other
cause, had a mind to go out of it, he carried along with him one
of the ladies,—namely, her whom he had before that chosen
for his mistress, and they were married together. And if
they had formerly in Thelema lived in devotion and amity, much
more did they continue therein in the state of matrimony; and
did entertain that mutual love till the very last day of their life,
in no less vigor and fervency than at the very day of their
wedding.
All the foregoing citations are made from Readings from Rabelais,' by
Walter Besant
## p. 12026 (#61) ###########################################
## p. 12026 (#62) ###########################################
JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE.
## p. 12026 (#63) ###########################################
1
1
br. st.
وا
. 11
14
14.
T
it
## p. 12026 (#64) ###########################################
ཨ ཀ
## p. 12027 (#65) ###########################################
12027
JEAN RACINE
(1639-1699)
BY FREDERICK MORRIS WARREN
B
Y THE time French classical tragedy had reached Racine, in
its development from the Latin drama of Seneca, its form
and style had become definitely fixed. Like its Latin pro-
genitor it consisted of five acts, subdivided into scenes; was written
in long lines, - the Alexandrine verse of twelve syllables,—and ob-
served in its stage setting and the duration of its action the unities
of place and time. But in the process of assimilation to modern
requirements the chorus of the ancients had been dropped, their
monologues had been shortened and subjected to interruptions by the
theatrical device of confidants, and Seneca's lyricism had been given a
stronger admixture of the dramatic element, by the pressure of audi-
ences which had been trained to the action and episodes of the old
miracle plays. All the questions of scenic art which had been agi-
tated for four generations, and from which Corneille's early years
were not exempt, were settled before Racine began. He had only to
take his structure as he found it, and fill it in with such material as
would be in harmony with the French conception of tragedy.
Racine was genius enough to make a place for himself, while con-
forming to these limitations. Corneille had produced his dramatic
effects by opposing the passion of love to some general conception of
duty, honor, or patriotism. His plays treat these topics subjectively,
didactically. They abound in maxims. Their characters are ideal,
perhaps. Their heroes often win attention away from the heroines.
Racine's method is different. He belongs to another, a new gener-
ation, inspired by a different spirit. Instead of being general, his
treatment is individual. His themes relate to private life, not public.
He is objective, studying humanity around him. He indulges rarely
in abstract ideas. If we might apply a modern term to him we
might call him realistic. Certainly he stood, as did Molière, in the
eyes of his contemporaries, for a close adherence to the plain facts
of existence. And in the judgment of the eighteenth century Racine
was "natural. "
Furthermore he worked from within outward. It is an analysis of
character which he aims at, or rather a study of the effects of some
## p. 12028 (#66) ###########################################
12028
JEAN RACINE
passion - almost always love, or its concomitant emotions of jeal-
ousy, hatred, revenge, or remorse, rarely ambition or bigotry.
on the
human heart, with the actions that result from it. The dramatic
solution in Racine is obtained by the clash of such passions. In
other words, Racine's situations are brought about by his charac-
ters, whereas with Corneille it was the situations which produced the
characters. And it so happens, whether from the very nature of
things or from a fixed purpose, that most of Racine's characters are
women. Few of his men can support comparison with them.
Racine's career shows an impulsive temperament,- the tempera-
ment of a poet. He was born at the small town of La Ferté-Milon,
some distance to the northeast of Paris, on December 21st, 1639. His
Christian name, Jean, was in the family. His parents dying before
he was three years old, he fell to the care of his relatives, who sent
him to the college at Beauvais. Leaving this institution at the age
of sixteen, he entered the Jansenist school at Port Royal, where he
imbibed that love for the Greek poets which was to manifest itself
so vigorously in his later works. The foundations of an ardent piety
were evidently laid here also, though they were to be hidden many
years by other interests and occupations. On leaving Port Royal in
1658, and entering Harcourt College at Paris, to receive his final
training, Racine, with his literary instincts and his capacity for en-
joying life, was quickly admitted to a pleasure-loving set of authors
and amateurs, of whom La Fontaine the fabulist was one. Encour-
aged by them, he threw himself into poetry, and in 1660 attracted
public attention and royal munificence by an ode, The Nymph of
the Seine,' written on the occasion of Louis XIV. 's marriage. His
devout family connections, alarmed for his salvation, rusticated him to
the south of France, where he was to study for orders. But in 1663
this experiment was abandoned. Racine returned to Paris, met La
Fontaine again, formed acquaintance with Boileau and Molière, and
under their sanction began his theatrical career.
After one unsuccessful venture, his 'Thébaïde' (1664) was played
by Molière's company. It was followed the next season by 'Alex-
andre. ' Both of these dramas reflect the ideas of older authors, par-
ticularly Corneille. But in 1667, with Andromaque,' a delineation
of maternal love in conflict with a widow's fidelity, set off by the
love and jealousy of suitors and rivals, Racine found his peculiar
and lasting manner. The enthusiasm aroused by the psychological
analyses of 'Andromaque' had been exceeded in Paris only by the
delight occasioned by the romantic declamations of The Cid. ' He
next tried a comedy of an Aristophanic bent, The Pleaders' (1668),
a satire of legal procedure. But this was Racine's sole deviation
from the tragic path. Britannicus' (1669), on the imperiousness of
## p. 12029 (#67) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12029
Agrippina and the baseness of Nero; 'Bérénice' (1670), the idyl
of the Jewish princess forsaken by her lover Titus, for reasons of
State; Bajazet' (1672), the vengeance of a queen on her rival and
faithless lover; 'Mithridate' (1673), the Oriental despot, the enemy
of Rome, disputing a girl's heart with his own son; 'Iphigénie'
(1674), a mother's love, oblivious of all but the object of its passion,
contrasted with filial affection and obedience,- all these pictures of
the heart of woman were summed up, reached their culmination, in
the love, shame, jealousy, revenge, and remorse which the poet im-
agined in the story of 'Phèdre' (1677). The great parts in Racine
were for the heroines. The heroes rarely attained the level of being
even counterpoises.
A literary cabal in favor of the rhymester Pradon prevented the
immediate success of 'Phèdre'; and this circumstance, coupled with
his reviving devotion, led Racine to renounce the stage and its sur-
roundings. He was made historiographer of the King, married, and
divided his time between his family and the court. But the old fire
was only smoldering within him. It burst forth into new and brighter
flame when at the summons of Madame de Maintenon a religious
drama was demanded for the girls' school at St. Cyr. The fusion of
Racine's piety with the gratification of his poetic ideals was now
possible; and 'Esther' (1689), a Scriptural idyl built on the model of
French tragedy, with the addition of the lyric choruses of the Greeks,
displayed his talent at its best. Another sacred tragedy with choruses,
'Athalie (1691), was lost to Racine's contemporaries by doubts about
the wisdom of schoolgirls acting. The remainder of our author's
life was passed in the exercise of his official duties, in the composi-
tion of religious hymns, and the penning of biting epigrams ridicul-
ing the playwrights of the time. He died the last year of the century,
on April 26th.
The first part of Racine's dramatic work, from 'Andromaque' to
'Phèdre,' being strictly within the canons of French classical tragedy,
calls for no further mention. But the second part, though consisting
of but two plays, drawn from sacred sources, presents certain novel-
ties. The addition of the choruses, imitated as they evidently were
from Greek models, suggests that French tragedy, in its conflict
with its rival the opera, would not be above borrowing some of that
rival's attractions. Besides, 'Athalie,' which is regarded by many as
the best example of French tragedy, takes certain liberties with the
scenery and the number of persons in evidence on the stage; and
this points to a modification, an enlarging, of the scope of the tradi-
tional play.
'Athalie' is also to be noticed for its plot. The element of love
does not enter into it. It is the strife of an unscrupulous, ambitious,
## p. 12030 (#68) ###########################################
12030
JEAN RACINE
yet fluctuating woman with the direct and persevering enthusiasm
of a strong man who summons the miraculous to his aid. For
these divergences from the ordinary run, and for its intrinsic excel-
lence, 'Athalie' was the constant preoccupation of French dramatists
down to the reaction in the nineteenth century against all tragedy,
classical or romantic. It powerfully aided in confirming Racine in
the supremacy which his method, his psychology, his measured lan-
guage and harmonious versification, had combined in awarding to
him. The subsequent history of French tragedy is hardly more than
a commentary on Racine.
The best edition of Racine's complete works is published at Paris
by Hachette et Cie. , in the series of 'Les Grands Écrivains' (8 vols. ,
8vo). It is edited by Paul Mesnard. Nearly every French critic
has written on Racine, but F. Brunetière's chapters (Lectures 5 and 7)
in his 'Époques du Théâtre Français' (Paris, 1892), and G. Lanson's
comments in his 'Histoire de la Littérature Française' (Paris, 1895),
pages 532-547, are especially valuable.
L. M Warren.
THE RIVALS
From Bajazet '
Scene: The private apartments of Bajazet at Byzantium. Present: Rox-
ana, Bajazet, Atalide, Zara.
R
OXANA -
Come, Bajazet, 'tis time to show yourself,
That all the court may recognize its master:
All that these walls contain, many in number,
Gathered by my command, await my wishes.
My slaves (the rest will follow where they lead)
Are the first subjects that my love allots you.
[To Atalide]-
This sudden change from wrath to milder mood
May well surprise you, madam. For, but now,
Determined to take vengeance on a traitor,
I swore he should not see another day;
Yet almost ere he spoke my heart relented:
'Twas love imposed that oath, and love revokes it.
Reading deep passion in his wild distraction,
His pardon I pronounced, and trust his promise.
## p. 12031 (#69) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12031
Bajazet — Yes, I have promised, and my word is pledged
Ne'er to forget all that to you I owe:
Have I not sworn that constant care and kindness
Roxana
Atalide-
Roxana
Atalide
-―――
Roxana
Atalide
Roxana
-
――――――
Roxana
-
Shall duly pay my debt of gratitude?
If on these terms your favor I may claim,
[Exit.
I go to wait the harvest of your bounty.
Heavens! What amazement strikes me at this moment!
Is it a dream? and have mine eyes deceived me?
What mean these frigid words, this sombre greeting,
Which seems to cancel all that passed between us?
What hope does he imagine mine, for which
I banished my resentment, and restored him
To favor? He, methought, swore that his heart
Would own me mistress to his dying day.
Does he repent already of the peace
That we had signed? Was I just now deluded?
But was he not conversing with you, madam ?
What did he say?
To me? He loves you always.
His life at least depends on my belief
That it is so. But tell me, pray, when joy
Should triumph, how can you explain the gloom
That settled on his features as he left me?
Madam, I saw no cloud upon his brow.
Oft has he told me of your gracious kindness,
And he just now was full of it; at parting
He seemed to me the same as when he entered.
But be that as it may, need it surprise you
That on the eve of such important issues
He should be troubled, and some signs escape him
Of anxious thoughts that on his mind intrude?
Such plausible excuses do you credit
For skill that pleads on his behalf more fairly
Than he could do himself.
What other cause-
Enough! I read your motive, madam, better
Than you suppose. Leave me, for I would be
Alone a little while. I too am troubled,
And anxious cares are mine as well as his,
To which I owe a moment's thought in secret.
How must I construe all that I have seen?
Are they in league together to deceive me?
Wherefore this change, those words, that quick departure?
Did I not catch a glance that passed between them?
## p. 12032 (#70) ###########################################
12032
JEAN RACINE
Fatima-
Roxana
Fatima
Were they not both struck with embarrassment ?
Ah! why has Heaven doomed me to this affront?
Is this the fruit of all my blind affection?
So many painful days and sleepless nights,
Plots and intrigues, treason too deep for pardon!
And shall they all turn to a rival's profit?
But yet, too ready to torment myself,
I may too closely scan a passing cloud,
And take for passion what is mere caprice.
Surely he would have carried to the end
His wiles; and in full prospect of success,
He could have feigned at least a moment longer.
Love, uncontrolled by reason, quakes at shadows:
Let me take courage. Why should Atalide
Be dreaded as my rival? What has he
To thank her for?
To which of us to-day
Owes he the sceptre?
But too well I know
Love is a tyrant; and if other charms
Attract, what matter crowns, or life itself?
Can benefits outweigh the heart's attachment ?
I need but search mine own. Did gratitude
Constrain me to his brother, when this wretch
Bewitched me? Ah! if other tie were absent,
Would the idea of marriage so alarm him?
He gladly would have seconded my wishes,
And not have braved destruction by refusal.
Just cause.
-
But some one comes to speak with me.
What can she want?
Enter Fatima
Forgive me this intrusion:
But there is come a courier from the army;
And though the seaward gate was shut, the guards,
On bended knees, without delay unlocked it
To orders from the Sultan, to yourself
Addressed, and strange to say, 'tis Orcan brings them.
Orcan!
Yes, he; of all the Sultan's slaves
The one most trusted for his faithful service,
Blackest of those whom Afric's sun has scorched.
Madam, he asks impatiently for you:
## p. 12033 (#71) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12033
Roxana
I thought it best to give you timely notice,
And lest you should be taken by surprise,
I have detained him in your own apartments.
What new disaster comes to overwhelm me?
What can his bidding be? What my reply?
Doubtless the Sultan, in his mind perturbed,
Has Bajazet condemned a second time.
Without my sanction none will dare to take
His life; for all obey me here. But ought I
To shield him? Bajazet or Amurath
Which claims allegiance? One have I betrayed;
The other may be false to me. Time presses;
I must resolve this fatal doubt, nor let
The precious moments pass.
Cannot conceal its secret inclination.
I will watch Bajazet and Atalide:
Then crown the lover, or destroy the traitor.
NDROMACHE [to Hermione] —
Love, when most cautious,
THE APPEAL OF ANDROMACHE
From 'Andromaque›
Scene: The palace of Pyrrhus, at Buthrotum in Epirus. Present: An-
dromache, Hermione, Cleone, Cephissa.
Α
XXI-753
Translation of R. B. Boswell.
Why fly you, madam? Is it not a sight
To please you, Hector's widow at your knees,
Weeping? But not with tears of jealousy
I come, nor do I envy you the heart
Surrendered to your charms. A cruel hand
Robbed me of him whom only I admired.
Love's flame was lit by Hector long ago,
With him it was extinguished in the tomb.
But he has left a son. Some day you'll know
How closely to one's heart a son can cling;
But you will never know, I wish it not,
How keen the pang when danger threatens him,
And they would take him from you,-all that's left
To soothe a blighted heart. Ah, when worn out
With ten long years of woe, the Trojans sought
Your mother's life, on Hector I prevailed
## p. 12034 (#72) ###########################################
12034
JEAN RACINE
Hermione-
Andromache-
How scornfully did she refuse my prayer!
Cephissa- Accept her counsel. See him, as she says;
One look of yours may Greece and her confound-
But look, he seeks you of his own accord.
Enter Pyrrhus and Phoenix
Pyrrhus [to Phoenix] -
Pyrrhus-
Andromache-
Phoenix-
Phoenix-
Andromache [to Cephissa]-
My eyes have over him!
Cephissa-
Andromache
To succor her. O'er Pyrrhus you have power
As I had then o'er Hector. Can they dread
The infant he has left? Him let me hide
In some far distant isle. And they may trust
My fears to keep him there, taught but to weep
With me.
Cephissa-
I feel for you, but duty holds
My tongue tied, when my sire declares his will:
It is by him that Pyrrhus's wrath is stirred.
But who can bend him better than yourself?
His soul has long been subject to your eyes:
Make him pronounce the word, and I'll consent.
Pyrrhus-
Andromache-
Pyrrhus-
Where is the princess? Said you not that she
Was here?
Is lost!
Andromache-
Will follow.
I thought so.
--
Hermione is gone, and we
Is certain.
Now you see what power
What says she?
Has he not promised them my child?
Given him up.
Speak! Why obstinately dumb?
All
But not
Vain are my tears,- his death
How her pride disdains to look
My way!
I should but irritate him more.
Let us retire.
Yielded to Greece.
Come, Hector's son shall be
## p. 12035 (#73) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12035
Andromache [throwing herself at his feet) —
Stop, sire.
What will you do?
Give up the son? Why not the mother, then?
Where is the kindness that you swore to me
So lately? Can I touch no chord at least
Of pity? Does this sentence bar all hope
Of pardon?
Phoenix knows my word is pledged.
Pyrrhus-
Andromache-
-
Pyrrhus-
Andromache
Pyrrhus-
――――――
No dangers were too great for you to brave
On my behalf!
Blind then, I now can see.
Your wishes might have won his pardon once;
You ne'er so much as asked it. Now you come
Too late.
Full well you understood, my lord,
The sigh that feared repulse. Forgive the trace
Of pride, that died not with my royal rank,
And made me shrink from importunity.
My lord, you know, had it not been for you,
Andromache would never have embraced
A master's knees.
No, in your secret soul
You hate me, scorn to owe me anything.
This son, the only object of your care, —
You would have loved him less, had he been saved
Through me. You hate me with a bitter scorn,
And worse than all the other Greeks combined.
Enjoy at leisure such a noble rage.
Come, Phoenix.
I will go where Hector's gone.
What further can I say to him?
The author of my woes, he knows them all.
[To Pyrrhus]-
See to what state you have reduced me, sire!
I've seen my father slain, our walls enwrapt
In flames, and all our family cut off,
My husband's bloody corpse dragged through the dust,
His only son reserved for chains with me.
For his sake I endure to live a slave.
Andromache
Cephissa Madam-
Andromache
Yea, more, this thought has sometimes brought relief,—
That fate has fixed my place of exile here;
The son of many kings beneath your sway
## p. 12036 (#74) ###########################################
12036
JEAN RACINE
Pyrrhus-
Is happier as a slave than he could be
Elsewhere, and I had hoped his prison walls
Might be a place of refuge. Priam found
Achilles could respect his fallen state:
I thought his son more generous still. That trust,
My Hector, pardon, when I deemed thy foe
Too noble to commit a dastard's crime!
Ah, had he but allowed us to abide
Where for thine ashes I had raised a tomb,
And ending there his hatred and our woes,
Parted us not from thy beloved remains!
Go and await me, Phoenix. -
Madam, stay.
Your tears may yet win back this cherished son.
Yes, I regret that, moving you to weep,
I armed you with a weapon 'gainst myself;
I thought I could have brought more hatred here.
You might at least consent to look at me:
See, are my eyes those of an angry judge,
Whose pleasure 'tis to cause you misery?
Why force me to be faithless to yourself?
Now for your son's sake let us cease to hate.
'Tis I who urge you, Save the child from death.
Must sighs of mine beg you to spare his life?
And must I clasp your knees to plead for him?
Once more, but once,- Save him and save yourself.
I know what solemn vows for you I break,
What hatred I bring down upon myself.
Hermione shall go, and on her brow
For crown I set a burning brand of shame;
And in the fane decked for her marriage rites
Her royal diadem yourself shall wear.
This offer, lady, is no longer one
You can afford to scorn. Perish or reign!
A year's contempt has made me desperate,
Nor can I any longer live in doubt,
Harassed by fears and mingling threats with groans.
To lose you is to die,-'tis death to wait.
I leave you to consider, and will come
To bring you to the temple where this child
My fury shall destroy before your eyes,
Or where in love I crown you as my queen.
## p. 12037 (#75) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12037
Enone-
Scene: The palace at Træzen, in the Peloponnesus. Present: Phædra,
Hippolytus, Enone.
There I see him!
PHEDRA My blood forgets to flow, my tongue to speak
What I am come to say.
Phædra-
THE CONFESSION OF PHÆDRA
From Phèdre›
Hippolytus-
Phædra-
―――――――
Think of your son,
How all his hopes depend on you.
I hear
You leave us and in haste. I come to add
My tears to your distress, and for a son
Plead my alarm. No more has he a father,
And at no distant day my son must witness
My death. Already do a thousand foes
Threaten his youth. You only can defend him.
But in my secret heart remorse awakes,
And fear lest I have shut your ears against
His cries. I tremble lest your righteous anger
Visit on him ere long the hatred earned
By me, his mother.
Madam, is mine.
No such base resentment,
I could not blame you, prince,
If you should hate me. I have injured you:
So much you know, but could not read my heart.
T' incur your enmity has been mine aim:
The selfsame borders could not hold us both;
In public and in private I declared
Myself your foe, and found no peace till seas
Parted us from each other. I forbade
Your very name to be pronounced before me.
And yet if punishment should be proportioned
To the offense, if only hatred draws
Your hatred, never woman merited
More pity, less deserved your enmity.
Hippolytus-A mother jealous of her children's rights.
Seldom forgives the offspring of a wife
Who reigned before her. Harassing suspicions
Are common sequels of a second marriage.
Of me would any other have been jealous
No less than you, perhaps more violent.
## p. 12038 (#76) ###########################################
12038
JEAN RACINE
Ah, prince, how Heaven has from the general law
Made me exempt, be that same Heaven witness!
Far different is the trouble that devours me!
Hippolytus-This is no time for self-reproaches, madam.
It may be that your husband still beholds
The light, and Heaven may grant him safe return,
In answer to our prayers. His guardian god
Is Neptune, ne'er by him invoked in vain.
He who has seen the mansions of the dead
Returns not thence. Since to those gloomy shores
Theseus is gone, 'tis vain to hope that Heaven
May send him back. Prince, there is no release
From Acheron's greedy maw. And yet, methinks,
He lives and breathes in you. I see him still
Before me, and to him I seem to speak;
My heart-
Phædra-
Phadra
Hippolytus-
Phædra-
—
Oh, I am mad! Do what I will,
I cannot hide my passion.
Yes, I see
The strange effects of love. Theseus, though dead,
Seems present to your eyes, for in your soul
There burns a constant flame.
Ah, yes, for Theseus
I languish and I long; not as the Shades
Have seen him, of a thousand different forms
The fickle lover, and of Pluto's bride
The would-be ravisher, but faithful, proud
E'en to a slight disdain, with youthful charms
Attracting every heart, as gods are painted,
Or like yourself. He had your mien, your eyes,
Spoke and could blush like you, when to the isle
Of Crete, my childhood's home, he crossed the waves,
Worthy to win the love of Minos's daughters.
What were you doing then? Why did he gather
The flower of Greece, and leave Hippolytus?
Oh, why were you too young to have embarked
On board the ship that brought thy sire to Crete?
At your hands would the monster then have perished,
Despite the windings of his vast retreat.
To guide your doubtful steps within the maze
My sister would have armed you with the clue.
But no, therein would Phædra have forestalled her.
Love would have first inspired me with the thought
And I it would have been whose timely aid
## p. 12039 (#77) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12039
Had taught you all the labyrinth's crooked ways.
What anxious care a life so dear had cost me!
No thread had satisfied your lover's fears:
I would myself have wished to lead the way,
And share the peril you were bound to face;
Phædra with you would have explored the maze,
With you emerged in safety or have perished.
Hippolytus-Gods! What is this I hear? Have you forgotten
That Theseus is my father and your husband?
Why should you fancy I have lost remembrance
Thereof, and am regardless of mine honor?
Hippolytus - Forgive me, madam. With a blush I own
That I misconstrued words of innocence.
For very shame I cannot bear your sight
Longer. I go-
Phædra-
Phædra-
Ah! cruel prince, too well
You understood me. I have said enough
To save you from mistake. I love. But think not
That at the moment when I love you most
I do not feel my guilt; no weak compliance
Has fed the poison that infects my brain.
The ill-starred object of celestial vengeance,
I am not so detestable to you
As to myself. The gods will bear me witness,
Who have within my veins kindled this fire;
The gods, who take a barbarous delight
In leading a poor mortal's heart astray.
Do you yourself recall to mind the past:
'Twas not enough for me to fly,—I chased you
Out of the country, wishing to appear
Inhuman, odious; to resist you better,
I sought to make you hate me. All in vain!
Hating me more, I loved you none the less:
New charms were lent to you by your misfortunes.
I have been drowned in tears, and scorched by fire;
Your own eyes might convince you of the truth,
If for one moment you could look at me.
What is't I say? Think you this vile confession
That I have made is what I meant to utter?
Not daring to betray a son for whom
I trembled, 'twas to beg you not to hate him
I came. Weak purpose of a heart too full
Of love for you to speak of aught besides!
Take your revenge, punish my odious passion;
## p. 12040 (#78) ###########################################
12040
JEAN RACINE
Enone-
Theramenes
Prove yourself worthy of your valiant sire,
And rid the world of an offensive monster!
Does Theseus's widow dare to love his son?
The frightful monster! Let her not escape you!
Here is my heart. This is the place to strike.
Already prompt to expiate its guilt,
I feel it leap impatiently to meet
Your arin. Strike home. Or if it would disgrace you
To steep your hand in such polluted blood,
If that were punishment too mild to slake
Your hatred, lend me then your sword, if not
Your arm. Quick, give 't.
What, madam, will you do?
Just gods!
further off, drawing towards the park.
All the halls, chambers, and cabinets were hung with tapestry
of divers sorts, according to the seasons of the year. All the
pavements were covered with green cloth. The beds were em-
broidered. In every back chamber there was a looking-glass of
pure crystal, set in a frame of fine gold garnished with pearls,
and of such greatness that it would represent to the full the
whole person.
At the going out of the halls belonging to the
ladies' lodgings were the perfumers and hair-dressers, through
whose hands the gallants passed when they were to visit the
## p. 12023 (#57) ###########################################
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12023
ladies. These did every morning furnish the ladies chambers
with rose-water, musk, and angelica; and to each of them gave a
little smelling-bottle breathing the choicest aromatical scents.
The ladies on the foundation of this order were appareled
after their own pleasure and liking. But since, of their own free
will, they were reformed in manner as followeth :-
They wore stockings of scarlet which reached just three inches.
above the knee, having the border beautified with embroideries.
and trimming. Their garters were of the color of their brace-
lets, and circled the knee both over and under. Their shoes and
slippers were either of red, violet, or crimson velvet, cut à barbe
d'écrévisse.
Next to their smock they put on a fair corset of pure silk
camblet; above that went the petticoat of white, red tawny, or
gray taffety. Above this was the cotte in cloth of silver, with
needlework either (according to the temperature and disposition
of the weather) of satin, damask, velvet, orange, tawny, green,
ash-colored, blue, yellow, crimson, cloth of gold, cloth of silver,
or some other choice stuff, according to the day.
Their gowns, correspondent to the season, were either of cloth
of gold with silver edging, of red satin covered with gold purl,
of taffety, white, blue, black, or tawny, of silk serge, silk cam-
blet, velvet, cloth of silver, silver tissue, cloth of gold, velvet, or
figured satin with golden threads.
In the summer, some days, instead of gowns, they wore fair
mantles of the above-named stuff, or capes of violet velvet with
edging of gold, or with knotted cordwork of gold embroidery,
garnished with little Indian pearls. They always carried a fair
plume of feathers, of the color of their muff, bravely adorned with
spangles of gold. In the winter-time they had their taffety
gowns of all colors, as above named, and those lined with the
rich furrings of wolves, weasels, Calabrian martlet, sables, and
other costly furs. Their beads, rings, bracelets, and collars were
of precious stones, such as carbuncles, rubies, diamonds, sap-
phires, emeralds, turquoises, garnets, agates, beryls, and pearls.
Their head-dressing varied with the season of the year. In
winter it was of the French fashion; in the spring of the Span-
ish; in summer of the fashion of Tuscany, except only upon
the holy-days and Sundays, at which times they were accoutred
in the French mode, because they accounted it more honorable,
better befitting the modesty of a matron.
## p. 12024 (#58) ###########################################
12024
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
The men were appareled after their fashion. Their stockings
were of worsted or of serge, of white, black, or scarlet. Their
breeches were of velvet, of the same color with their stockings,
or very near, embroidered and cut according to their fancy.
Their doublet was of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, velvet, satin,
damask, or taffety, of the same colors, cut, embroidered, and
trimmed up in the same manner. The points were of silk of
the same colors, the tags were of gold enameled. Their coats
and jerkins were of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, gold tissue,
or velvet embroidered, as they thought fit. Their gowns were
every whit as costly as those of the ladies. Their girdles were
of silk, of the color of their doublets. Every one had a gallant
sword by his side, the hilt and handle whereof were gilt, and the
scabbard of velvet, of the color of his breeches, the end in gold,
and goldsmith's work. The dagger of the same.
Their caps
were of black velvet, adorned with jewels and buttons of gold.
Upon that they wore a white plume, most prettily and minion-
like parted by so many rows of gold spangles, at the end where-
of hung dangling fair rubies, emeralds, etc.
But so great was the sympathy between the gallants and the
ladies, that every day they were appareled in the same livery.
And that they might not miss, there were certain gentlemen ap-
pointed to tell the youths every morning what colors the ladies.
would on that day wear; for all was done according to the pleas-
ure of the ladies. In these so handsome clothes, and habiliments
so rich, think not that either one or other of either sex did waste
any time at all; for the masters of the wardrobes had all their
raiments and apparel so ready for every morning, and the
chamber-ladies were so well skilled, that in a trice they would be
dressed, and completely in their clothes from head to foot. And
to have these accoutrements with the more conveniency, there
was about the wood of Thelema a row of houses half a league
long, very neat and cleanly, wherein dwelt the goldsmiths, lapi-
daries, embroiderers, tailors, gold-drawers, velvet-weavers, tapestry-
makers, and upholsterers, who wrought there every one in his
own trade, and all for the aforesaid friars and nuns. They were
furnished with matter and stuff from the hands of Lord Nausi-
clete, who every year brought them seven ships from the Perlas
and Cannibal Islands, laden with ingots of gold, with raw silk,
with pearls and precious stones. And if any pearls began to
grow old, and lose somewhat of their natural whiteness and lus-
## p. 12025 (#59) ###########################################
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12025
tre, those by their art they did renew by tendering them to cocks
to be eaten, as they used to give casting unto hawks.
All their life was spent not in laws, statutes, or rules, but
according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose out of
their beds when they thought good; they did eat, drink, labor,
sleep, when they had a mind to it, and were disposed for it.
None did awake them, none did constrain them to eat, drink, nor
do any other thing; for so had Gargantua established it. In all
their rule, and strictest tie of their order, there was but this one
clause to be observed:
_______
FAY CE QUE VOULDRAS
Because men that are free, well born, well bred, and conver-
sant in honest companies, have naturally an instinct and spur
that prompteth them unto virtuous actions and withdraws them
from vice, which is called honor. Those same men, when by
base subjection and constraint they are brought under and kept
down, turn aside from that noble disposition by which they
formerly were inclined to virtue, to shake off and break the bond
of servitude; for it is agreeable with the nature of man to long
after things forbidden, and to desire what is denied.
By this liberty they entered into a very laudable emulation:
to do all of them what they saw did please one. If any of the
gallants or ladies should say, "Let us drink," they would all
drink. If any one of them said, "Let us play," they all played.
If one said, "Let us go for our delight into the fields," they
went all. If it were to go a-hawking or a-hunting, the ladies,
mounted upon well-paced nags, carried on their lovely fists (min-
iardly begloved every one of them) either a sparrow-hawk, or a
laneret, or a merlin, and the gallants carried the other kinds of
birds. So nobly were they taught, that there was not one amongst
them but could read, write, sing, play upon musical instruments,
speak five or six several languages, and compose in them all very
quaintly, both in verse and prose. Never were seen knights
so valiant, so noble and worthy, so dexterous and skillful both
on foot and a-horseback, more active, more nimble and quick, or
better handling all manner of weapons, than were there. Never
were seen ladies so proper, so miniard, less forward, or more
ready with hand and needle in every honest and free action
belonging to that sex, than were there.
## p. 12026 (#60) ###########################################
12026
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
For this reason, when the time came that any man of the said
abbey, either at the request of his parents or for some other
cause, had a mind to go out of it, he carried along with him one
of the ladies,—namely, her whom he had before that chosen
for his mistress, and they were married together. And if
they had formerly in Thelema lived in devotion and amity, much
more did they continue therein in the state of matrimony; and
did entertain that mutual love till the very last day of their life,
in no less vigor and fervency than at the very day of their
wedding.
All the foregoing citations are made from Readings from Rabelais,' by
Walter Besant
## p. 12026 (#61) ###########################################
## p. 12026 (#62) ###########################################
JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE.
## p. 12026 (#63) ###########################################
1
1
br. st.
وا
. 11
14
14.
T
it
## p. 12026 (#64) ###########################################
ཨ ཀ
## p. 12027 (#65) ###########################################
12027
JEAN RACINE
(1639-1699)
BY FREDERICK MORRIS WARREN
B
Y THE time French classical tragedy had reached Racine, in
its development from the Latin drama of Seneca, its form
and style had become definitely fixed. Like its Latin pro-
genitor it consisted of five acts, subdivided into scenes; was written
in long lines, - the Alexandrine verse of twelve syllables,—and ob-
served in its stage setting and the duration of its action the unities
of place and time. But in the process of assimilation to modern
requirements the chorus of the ancients had been dropped, their
monologues had been shortened and subjected to interruptions by the
theatrical device of confidants, and Seneca's lyricism had been given a
stronger admixture of the dramatic element, by the pressure of audi-
ences which had been trained to the action and episodes of the old
miracle plays. All the questions of scenic art which had been agi-
tated for four generations, and from which Corneille's early years
were not exempt, were settled before Racine began. He had only to
take his structure as he found it, and fill it in with such material as
would be in harmony with the French conception of tragedy.
Racine was genius enough to make a place for himself, while con-
forming to these limitations. Corneille had produced his dramatic
effects by opposing the passion of love to some general conception of
duty, honor, or patriotism. His plays treat these topics subjectively,
didactically. They abound in maxims. Their characters are ideal,
perhaps. Their heroes often win attention away from the heroines.
Racine's method is different. He belongs to another, a new gener-
ation, inspired by a different spirit. Instead of being general, his
treatment is individual. His themes relate to private life, not public.
He is objective, studying humanity around him. He indulges rarely
in abstract ideas. If we might apply a modern term to him we
might call him realistic. Certainly he stood, as did Molière, in the
eyes of his contemporaries, for a close adherence to the plain facts
of existence. And in the judgment of the eighteenth century Racine
was "natural. "
Furthermore he worked from within outward. It is an analysis of
character which he aims at, or rather a study of the effects of some
## p. 12028 (#66) ###########################################
12028
JEAN RACINE
passion - almost always love, or its concomitant emotions of jeal-
ousy, hatred, revenge, or remorse, rarely ambition or bigotry.
on the
human heart, with the actions that result from it. The dramatic
solution in Racine is obtained by the clash of such passions. In
other words, Racine's situations are brought about by his charac-
ters, whereas with Corneille it was the situations which produced the
characters. And it so happens, whether from the very nature of
things or from a fixed purpose, that most of Racine's characters are
women. Few of his men can support comparison with them.
Racine's career shows an impulsive temperament,- the tempera-
ment of a poet. He was born at the small town of La Ferté-Milon,
some distance to the northeast of Paris, on December 21st, 1639. His
Christian name, Jean, was in the family. His parents dying before
he was three years old, he fell to the care of his relatives, who sent
him to the college at Beauvais. Leaving this institution at the age
of sixteen, he entered the Jansenist school at Port Royal, where he
imbibed that love for the Greek poets which was to manifest itself
so vigorously in his later works. The foundations of an ardent piety
were evidently laid here also, though they were to be hidden many
years by other interests and occupations. On leaving Port Royal in
1658, and entering Harcourt College at Paris, to receive his final
training, Racine, with his literary instincts and his capacity for en-
joying life, was quickly admitted to a pleasure-loving set of authors
and amateurs, of whom La Fontaine the fabulist was one. Encour-
aged by them, he threw himself into poetry, and in 1660 attracted
public attention and royal munificence by an ode, The Nymph of
the Seine,' written on the occasion of Louis XIV. 's marriage. His
devout family connections, alarmed for his salvation, rusticated him to
the south of France, where he was to study for orders. But in 1663
this experiment was abandoned. Racine returned to Paris, met La
Fontaine again, formed acquaintance with Boileau and Molière, and
under their sanction began his theatrical career.
After one unsuccessful venture, his 'Thébaïde' (1664) was played
by Molière's company. It was followed the next season by 'Alex-
andre. ' Both of these dramas reflect the ideas of older authors, par-
ticularly Corneille. But in 1667, with Andromaque,' a delineation
of maternal love in conflict with a widow's fidelity, set off by the
love and jealousy of suitors and rivals, Racine found his peculiar
and lasting manner. The enthusiasm aroused by the psychological
analyses of 'Andromaque' had been exceeded in Paris only by the
delight occasioned by the romantic declamations of The Cid. ' He
next tried a comedy of an Aristophanic bent, The Pleaders' (1668),
a satire of legal procedure. But this was Racine's sole deviation
from the tragic path. Britannicus' (1669), on the imperiousness of
## p. 12029 (#67) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12029
Agrippina and the baseness of Nero; 'Bérénice' (1670), the idyl
of the Jewish princess forsaken by her lover Titus, for reasons of
State; Bajazet' (1672), the vengeance of a queen on her rival and
faithless lover; 'Mithridate' (1673), the Oriental despot, the enemy
of Rome, disputing a girl's heart with his own son; 'Iphigénie'
(1674), a mother's love, oblivious of all but the object of its passion,
contrasted with filial affection and obedience,- all these pictures of
the heart of woman were summed up, reached their culmination, in
the love, shame, jealousy, revenge, and remorse which the poet im-
agined in the story of 'Phèdre' (1677). The great parts in Racine
were for the heroines. The heroes rarely attained the level of being
even counterpoises.
A literary cabal in favor of the rhymester Pradon prevented the
immediate success of 'Phèdre'; and this circumstance, coupled with
his reviving devotion, led Racine to renounce the stage and its sur-
roundings. He was made historiographer of the King, married, and
divided his time between his family and the court. But the old fire
was only smoldering within him. It burst forth into new and brighter
flame when at the summons of Madame de Maintenon a religious
drama was demanded for the girls' school at St. Cyr. The fusion of
Racine's piety with the gratification of his poetic ideals was now
possible; and 'Esther' (1689), a Scriptural idyl built on the model of
French tragedy, with the addition of the lyric choruses of the Greeks,
displayed his talent at its best. Another sacred tragedy with choruses,
'Athalie (1691), was lost to Racine's contemporaries by doubts about
the wisdom of schoolgirls acting. The remainder of our author's
life was passed in the exercise of his official duties, in the composi-
tion of religious hymns, and the penning of biting epigrams ridicul-
ing the playwrights of the time. He died the last year of the century,
on April 26th.
The first part of Racine's dramatic work, from 'Andromaque' to
'Phèdre,' being strictly within the canons of French classical tragedy,
calls for no further mention. But the second part, though consisting
of but two plays, drawn from sacred sources, presents certain novel-
ties. The addition of the choruses, imitated as they evidently were
from Greek models, suggests that French tragedy, in its conflict
with its rival the opera, would not be above borrowing some of that
rival's attractions. Besides, 'Athalie,' which is regarded by many as
the best example of French tragedy, takes certain liberties with the
scenery and the number of persons in evidence on the stage; and
this points to a modification, an enlarging, of the scope of the tradi-
tional play.
'Athalie' is also to be noticed for its plot. The element of love
does not enter into it. It is the strife of an unscrupulous, ambitious,
## p. 12030 (#68) ###########################################
12030
JEAN RACINE
yet fluctuating woman with the direct and persevering enthusiasm
of a strong man who summons the miraculous to his aid. For
these divergences from the ordinary run, and for its intrinsic excel-
lence, 'Athalie' was the constant preoccupation of French dramatists
down to the reaction in the nineteenth century against all tragedy,
classical or romantic. It powerfully aided in confirming Racine in
the supremacy which his method, his psychology, his measured lan-
guage and harmonious versification, had combined in awarding to
him. The subsequent history of French tragedy is hardly more than
a commentary on Racine.
The best edition of Racine's complete works is published at Paris
by Hachette et Cie. , in the series of 'Les Grands Écrivains' (8 vols. ,
8vo). It is edited by Paul Mesnard. Nearly every French critic
has written on Racine, but F. Brunetière's chapters (Lectures 5 and 7)
in his 'Époques du Théâtre Français' (Paris, 1892), and G. Lanson's
comments in his 'Histoire de la Littérature Française' (Paris, 1895),
pages 532-547, are especially valuable.
L. M Warren.
THE RIVALS
From Bajazet '
Scene: The private apartments of Bajazet at Byzantium. Present: Rox-
ana, Bajazet, Atalide, Zara.
R
OXANA -
Come, Bajazet, 'tis time to show yourself,
That all the court may recognize its master:
All that these walls contain, many in number,
Gathered by my command, await my wishes.
My slaves (the rest will follow where they lead)
Are the first subjects that my love allots you.
[To Atalide]-
This sudden change from wrath to milder mood
May well surprise you, madam. For, but now,
Determined to take vengeance on a traitor,
I swore he should not see another day;
Yet almost ere he spoke my heart relented:
'Twas love imposed that oath, and love revokes it.
Reading deep passion in his wild distraction,
His pardon I pronounced, and trust his promise.
## p. 12031 (#69) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12031
Bajazet — Yes, I have promised, and my word is pledged
Ne'er to forget all that to you I owe:
Have I not sworn that constant care and kindness
Roxana
Atalide-
Roxana
Atalide
-―――
Roxana
Atalide
Roxana
-
――――――
Roxana
-
Shall duly pay my debt of gratitude?
If on these terms your favor I may claim,
[Exit.
I go to wait the harvest of your bounty.
Heavens! What amazement strikes me at this moment!
Is it a dream? and have mine eyes deceived me?
What mean these frigid words, this sombre greeting,
Which seems to cancel all that passed between us?
What hope does he imagine mine, for which
I banished my resentment, and restored him
To favor? He, methought, swore that his heart
Would own me mistress to his dying day.
Does he repent already of the peace
That we had signed? Was I just now deluded?
But was he not conversing with you, madam ?
What did he say?
To me? He loves you always.
His life at least depends on my belief
That it is so. But tell me, pray, when joy
Should triumph, how can you explain the gloom
That settled on his features as he left me?
Madam, I saw no cloud upon his brow.
Oft has he told me of your gracious kindness,
And he just now was full of it; at parting
He seemed to me the same as when he entered.
But be that as it may, need it surprise you
That on the eve of such important issues
He should be troubled, and some signs escape him
Of anxious thoughts that on his mind intrude?
Such plausible excuses do you credit
For skill that pleads on his behalf more fairly
Than he could do himself.
What other cause-
Enough! I read your motive, madam, better
Than you suppose. Leave me, for I would be
Alone a little while. I too am troubled,
And anxious cares are mine as well as his,
To which I owe a moment's thought in secret.
How must I construe all that I have seen?
Are they in league together to deceive me?
Wherefore this change, those words, that quick departure?
Did I not catch a glance that passed between them?
## p. 12032 (#70) ###########################################
12032
JEAN RACINE
Fatima-
Roxana
Fatima
Were they not both struck with embarrassment ?
Ah! why has Heaven doomed me to this affront?
Is this the fruit of all my blind affection?
So many painful days and sleepless nights,
Plots and intrigues, treason too deep for pardon!
And shall they all turn to a rival's profit?
But yet, too ready to torment myself,
I may too closely scan a passing cloud,
And take for passion what is mere caprice.
Surely he would have carried to the end
His wiles; and in full prospect of success,
He could have feigned at least a moment longer.
Love, uncontrolled by reason, quakes at shadows:
Let me take courage. Why should Atalide
Be dreaded as my rival? What has he
To thank her for?
To which of us to-day
Owes he the sceptre?
But too well I know
Love is a tyrant; and if other charms
Attract, what matter crowns, or life itself?
Can benefits outweigh the heart's attachment ?
I need but search mine own. Did gratitude
Constrain me to his brother, when this wretch
Bewitched me? Ah! if other tie were absent,
Would the idea of marriage so alarm him?
He gladly would have seconded my wishes,
And not have braved destruction by refusal.
Just cause.
-
But some one comes to speak with me.
What can she want?
Enter Fatima
Forgive me this intrusion:
But there is come a courier from the army;
And though the seaward gate was shut, the guards,
On bended knees, without delay unlocked it
To orders from the Sultan, to yourself
Addressed, and strange to say, 'tis Orcan brings them.
Orcan!
Yes, he; of all the Sultan's slaves
The one most trusted for his faithful service,
Blackest of those whom Afric's sun has scorched.
Madam, he asks impatiently for you:
## p. 12033 (#71) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12033
Roxana
I thought it best to give you timely notice,
And lest you should be taken by surprise,
I have detained him in your own apartments.
What new disaster comes to overwhelm me?
What can his bidding be? What my reply?
Doubtless the Sultan, in his mind perturbed,
Has Bajazet condemned a second time.
Without my sanction none will dare to take
His life; for all obey me here. But ought I
To shield him? Bajazet or Amurath
Which claims allegiance? One have I betrayed;
The other may be false to me. Time presses;
I must resolve this fatal doubt, nor let
The precious moments pass.
Cannot conceal its secret inclination.
I will watch Bajazet and Atalide:
Then crown the lover, or destroy the traitor.
NDROMACHE [to Hermione] —
Love, when most cautious,
THE APPEAL OF ANDROMACHE
From 'Andromaque›
Scene: The palace of Pyrrhus, at Buthrotum in Epirus. Present: An-
dromache, Hermione, Cleone, Cephissa.
Α
XXI-753
Translation of R. B. Boswell.
Why fly you, madam? Is it not a sight
To please you, Hector's widow at your knees,
Weeping? But not with tears of jealousy
I come, nor do I envy you the heart
Surrendered to your charms. A cruel hand
Robbed me of him whom only I admired.
Love's flame was lit by Hector long ago,
With him it was extinguished in the tomb.
But he has left a son. Some day you'll know
How closely to one's heart a son can cling;
But you will never know, I wish it not,
How keen the pang when danger threatens him,
And they would take him from you,-all that's left
To soothe a blighted heart. Ah, when worn out
With ten long years of woe, the Trojans sought
Your mother's life, on Hector I prevailed
## p. 12034 (#72) ###########################################
12034
JEAN RACINE
Hermione-
Andromache-
How scornfully did she refuse my prayer!
Cephissa- Accept her counsel. See him, as she says;
One look of yours may Greece and her confound-
But look, he seeks you of his own accord.
Enter Pyrrhus and Phoenix
Pyrrhus [to Phoenix] -
Pyrrhus-
Andromache-
Phoenix-
Phoenix-
Andromache [to Cephissa]-
My eyes have over him!
Cephissa-
Andromache
To succor her. O'er Pyrrhus you have power
As I had then o'er Hector. Can they dread
The infant he has left? Him let me hide
In some far distant isle. And they may trust
My fears to keep him there, taught but to weep
With me.
Cephissa-
I feel for you, but duty holds
My tongue tied, when my sire declares his will:
It is by him that Pyrrhus's wrath is stirred.
But who can bend him better than yourself?
His soul has long been subject to your eyes:
Make him pronounce the word, and I'll consent.
Pyrrhus-
Andromache-
Pyrrhus-
Where is the princess? Said you not that she
Was here?
Is lost!
Andromache-
Will follow.
I thought so.
--
Hermione is gone, and we
Is certain.
Now you see what power
What says she?
Has he not promised them my child?
Given him up.
Speak! Why obstinately dumb?
All
But not
Vain are my tears,- his death
How her pride disdains to look
My way!
I should but irritate him more.
Let us retire.
Yielded to Greece.
Come, Hector's son shall be
## p. 12035 (#73) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12035
Andromache [throwing herself at his feet) —
Stop, sire.
What will you do?
Give up the son? Why not the mother, then?
Where is the kindness that you swore to me
So lately? Can I touch no chord at least
Of pity? Does this sentence bar all hope
Of pardon?
Phoenix knows my word is pledged.
Pyrrhus-
Andromache-
-
Pyrrhus-
Andromache
Pyrrhus-
――――――
No dangers were too great for you to brave
On my behalf!
Blind then, I now can see.
Your wishes might have won his pardon once;
You ne'er so much as asked it. Now you come
Too late.
Full well you understood, my lord,
The sigh that feared repulse. Forgive the trace
Of pride, that died not with my royal rank,
And made me shrink from importunity.
My lord, you know, had it not been for you,
Andromache would never have embraced
A master's knees.
No, in your secret soul
You hate me, scorn to owe me anything.
This son, the only object of your care, —
You would have loved him less, had he been saved
Through me. You hate me with a bitter scorn,
And worse than all the other Greeks combined.
Enjoy at leisure such a noble rage.
Come, Phoenix.
I will go where Hector's gone.
What further can I say to him?
The author of my woes, he knows them all.
[To Pyrrhus]-
See to what state you have reduced me, sire!
I've seen my father slain, our walls enwrapt
In flames, and all our family cut off,
My husband's bloody corpse dragged through the dust,
His only son reserved for chains with me.
For his sake I endure to live a slave.
Andromache
Cephissa Madam-
Andromache
Yea, more, this thought has sometimes brought relief,—
That fate has fixed my place of exile here;
The son of many kings beneath your sway
## p. 12036 (#74) ###########################################
12036
JEAN RACINE
Pyrrhus-
Is happier as a slave than he could be
Elsewhere, and I had hoped his prison walls
Might be a place of refuge. Priam found
Achilles could respect his fallen state:
I thought his son more generous still. That trust,
My Hector, pardon, when I deemed thy foe
Too noble to commit a dastard's crime!
Ah, had he but allowed us to abide
Where for thine ashes I had raised a tomb,
And ending there his hatred and our woes,
Parted us not from thy beloved remains!
Go and await me, Phoenix. -
Madam, stay.
Your tears may yet win back this cherished son.
Yes, I regret that, moving you to weep,
I armed you with a weapon 'gainst myself;
I thought I could have brought more hatred here.
You might at least consent to look at me:
See, are my eyes those of an angry judge,
Whose pleasure 'tis to cause you misery?
Why force me to be faithless to yourself?
Now for your son's sake let us cease to hate.
'Tis I who urge you, Save the child from death.
Must sighs of mine beg you to spare his life?
And must I clasp your knees to plead for him?
Once more, but once,- Save him and save yourself.
I know what solemn vows for you I break,
What hatred I bring down upon myself.
Hermione shall go, and on her brow
For crown I set a burning brand of shame;
And in the fane decked for her marriage rites
Her royal diadem yourself shall wear.
This offer, lady, is no longer one
You can afford to scorn. Perish or reign!
A year's contempt has made me desperate,
Nor can I any longer live in doubt,
Harassed by fears and mingling threats with groans.
To lose you is to die,-'tis death to wait.
I leave you to consider, and will come
To bring you to the temple where this child
My fury shall destroy before your eyes,
Or where in love I crown you as my queen.
## p. 12037 (#75) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12037
Enone-
Scene: The palace at Træzen, in the Peloponnesus. Present: Phædra,
Hippolytus, Enone.
There I see him!
PHEDRA My blood forgets to flow, my tongue to speak
What I am come to say.
Phædra-
THE CONFESSION OF PHÆDRA
From Phèdre›
Hippolytus-
Phædra-
―――――――
Think of your son,
How all his hopes depend on you.
I hear
You leave us and in haste. I come to add
My tears to your distress, and for a son
Plead my alarm. No more has he a father,
And at no distant day my son must witness
My death. Already do a thousand foes
Threaten his youth. You only can defend him.
But in my secret heart remorse awakes,
And fear lest I have shut your ears against
His cries. I tremble lest your righteous anger
Visit on him ere long the hatred earned
By me, his mother.
Madam, is mine.
No such base resentment,
I could not blame you, prince,
If you should hate me. I have injured you:
So much you know, but could not read my heart.
T' incur your enmity has been mine aim:
The selfsame borders could not hold us both;
In public and in private I declared
Myself your foe, and found no peace till seas
Parted us from each other. I forbade
Your very name to be pronounced before me.
And yet if punishment should be proportioned
To the offense, if only hatred draws
Your hatred, never woman merited
More pity, less deserved your enmity.
Hippolytus-A mother jealous of her children's rights.
Seldom forgives the offspring of a wife
Who reigned before her. Harassing suspicions
Are common sequels of a second marriage.
Of me would any other have been jealous
No less than you, perhaps more violent.
## p. 12038 (#76) ###########################################
12038
JEAN RACINE
Ah, prince, how Heaven has from the general law
Made me exempt, be that same Heaven witness!
Far different is the trouble that devours me!
Hippolytus-This is no time for self-reproaches, madam.
It may be that your husband still beholds
The light, and Heaven may grant him safe return,
In answer to our prayers. His guardian god
Is Neptune, ne'er by him invoked in vain.
He who has seen the mansions of the dead
Returns not thence. Since to those gloomy shores
Theseus is gone, 'tis vain to hope that Heaven
May send him back. Prince, there is no release
From Acheron's greedy maw. And yet, methinks,
He lives and breathes in you. I see him still
Before me, and to him I seem to speak;
My heart-
Phædra-
Phadra
Hippolytus-
Phædra-
—
Oh, I am mad! Do what I will,
I cannot hide my passion.
Yes, I see
The strange effects of love. Theseus, though dead,
Seems present to your eyes, for in your soul
There burns a constant flame.
Ah, yes, for Theseus
I languish and I long; not as the Shades
Have seen him, of a thousand different forms
The fickle lover, and of Pluto's bride
The would-be ravisher, but faithful, proud
E'en to a slight disdain, with youthful charms
Attracting every heart, as gods are painted,
Or like yourself. He had your mien, your eyes,
Spoke and could blush like you, when to the isle
Of Crete, my childhood's home, he crossed the waves,
Worthy to win the love of Minos's daughters.
What were you doing then? Why did he gather
The flower of Greece, and leave Hippolytus?
Oh, why were you too young to have embarked
On board the ship that brought thy sire to Crete?
At your hands would the monster then have perished,
Despite the windings of his vast retreat.
To guide your doubtful steps within the maze
My sister would have armed you with the clue.
But no, therein would Phædra have forestalled her.
Love would have first inspired me with the thought
And I it would have been whose timely aid
## p. 12039 (#77) ###########################################
JEAN RACINE
12039
Had taught you all the labyrinth's crooked ways.
What anxious care a life so dear had cost me!
No thread had satisfied your lover's fears:
I would myself have wished to lead the way,
And share the peril you were bound to face;
Phædra with you would have explored the maze,
With you emerged in safety or have perished.
Hippolytus-Gods! What is this I hear? Have you forgotten
That Theseus is my father and your husband?
Why should you fancy I have lost remembrance
Thereof, and am regardless of mine honor?
Hippolytus - Forgive me, madam. With a blush I own
That I misconstrued words of innocence.
For very shame I cannot bear your sight
Longer. I go-
Phædra-
Phædra-
Ah! cruel prince, too well
You understood me. I have said enough
To save you from mistake. I love. But think not
That at the moment when I love you most
I do not feel my guilt; no weak compliance
Has fed the poison that infects my brain.
The ill-starred object of celestial vengeance,
I am not so detestable to you
As to myself. The gods will bear me witness,
Who have within my veins kindled this fire;
The gods, who take a barbarous delight
In leading a poor mortal's heart astray.
Do you yourself recall to mind the past:
'Twas not enough for me to fly,—I chased you
Out of the country, wishing to appear
Inhuman, odious; to resist you better,
I sought to make you hate me. All in vain!
Hating me more, I loved you none the less:
New charms were lent to you by your misfortunes.
I have been drowned in tears, and scorched by fire;
Your own eyes might convince you of the truth,
If for one moment you could look at me.
What is't I say? Think you this vile confession
That I have made is what I meant to utter?
Not daring to betray a son for whom
I trembled, 'twas to beg you not to hate him
I came. Weak purpose of a heart too full
Of love for you to speak of aught besides!
Take your revenge, punish my odious passion;
## p. 12040 (#78) ###########################################
12040
JEAN RACINE
Enone-
Theramenes
Prove yourself worthy of your valiant sire,
And rid the world of an offensive monster!
Does Theseus's widow dare to love his son?
The frightful monster! Let her not escape you!
Here is my heart. This is the place to strike.
Already prompt to expiate its guilt,
I feel it leap impatiently to meet
Your arin. Strike home. Or if it would disgrace you
To steep your hand in such polluted blood,
If that were punishment too mild to slake
Your hatred, lend me then your sword, if not
Your arm. Quick, give 't.
What, madam, will you do?
Just gods!
