court. kind offers of your service, which perhaps in a year or two more may become very useful to them. I am myself much pleased that you have sent a translation of our declaration of independence to the grand Duke; because having a high esteem for the character of that prince, and of the whole imperial family, from the accounts given me of them by my friend Dr. Ingenhouse and yourself, I should be happy to find that we stood well in the opinion of that Mr. Tromond of Milan, with whom I had the pleasure of being acquainted in London, spoke to me of a plant much used in Italy, and which he thought might be useful in America. He promised, at my request, to find me some of the seeds, which he has accordingly done. I have unfortunately forgotten the use, and know nothing of the culture. In both these particulars I must beg information and advice from you. It is called Ravizzoni. I send specimens of the seed enclosed. I received from the same Mr. Tromond four copies of a translation of some of my pieces into the fine language of your native country. I beg your acceptance of one of them, and of my best wishes for your health and prosperity. With great esteem, I have the honour to be, B. FRANKLIN. FOR THE PORT FOLIO.-FRENCH LITERATURE. ON THE CHARACTER OF RACINE. He would undoubtedly be an extraordinary man who should conceive the whole art of tragedy, such as it existed in the brightest days of Athens, and who should exhibit of it, at the same time, the first plan and the first model. But these efforts arc beyond nature: it is not capable of such vast conceptions. No art exists which has not been developed by degrees, and all are perfected only in the course of time. One man adds to the labours of another; one age increases the brilliancy of those lights which illuminated its predecessor, and thus, by writing and perpetuating their efforts, generations have made amends for the feebleness of nature, and man, who has but a momentary existence has prolonged his knowledge and labours through a course of ages. The invention of dialogue was, no doubt, the first step in the tragic art. He who conceived the idea of adding action to it, made an important improvement. This action was modified in different ways, becoming more or less involved, and more or les probable. Music and dancing lent their aid to embellish this imitation. We studied the illusions of sight and theatrical show. The first man who, from a combination of all the arts united, produced such brilliant effects, deserves to be called the father of tragedy. This title is due to Eschylus, but he taught Euripides and Sophocles to surpass him, and the art was carried to its perfection in Greece. This perfection, however, was relative and, in some respects, national. In fact, if there are to be found in the ancient dramas, beauties of all times and places, it is not less true, that a good Greek tragedy, faithfully translated, would not be a good French tragedy; and if any exception to this general rule can be cited, this exception itself would show that five acts of the Greeks would not give us more than two. We are generally obliged to furnish a longer and more difficult plot. Melpomene, among the ancients, appears upon the stage with the attributes of Terpsicore and Polhymnia. With us she stands alone, without any advantages but those which her own art supplies, and with no aid but what she derives from terror and pity. The songs and the lofty poetry of the Greek chorus relieves the extreme simplicity of their subjects, and prevent us from perceiving the void in the representation. With us, to fill up the measure of five acts, we are obliged to resort to a plot always intricate, and the sources of an eloquence more or less affecting. The harmo ny of Greek verse enchanted the eager and delicate ear of a poetical people. With us, all the splendours of diction cannot, in representation, excuse faults, fill up chasms, or excite an interest, before an assemblage of men, who are all equally susceptible, of emotion, but who are not equal judges of style. Besides, among the Athenians, their exhibitions given at certain times of the year, were magnificent religious festivals, in which all the rivalry of the arts was displayed: and the senses were seduced into a pleasing delusion which rendered the judgment much less severe. Here the satiety which arises from a daily enjoyment, makes the spectator fastidious, and desirous of strong and new impresssions. From these considerations we conclude that the art of Corneille and Racine, must be more extensive, more various and more difficult, than that of Euripides and Sophocles. The latter possessed another advantage over their imitators and rivals: they displayed to their fellow-citizens the important events of their own history, the triumphs of their heroes, the misfortunes of their enemies, the perplexities of their ancestors, the crimes, and the vengeance of their gods. They excited elevated ideas, flattering and affecting remembrances, and spoke, at the same time, to the man and the citizen. Tragedy, subordinate, like every thing else, to the patriotic character, was, therefore, among the Greeks, their religion and history, in action and exhibition. Corneille reigned by his own genius, and borrowed nothing from the ancients but the principal rules of the art, and without taking their manner for a model, he made tragedy a school for heroism and virtue. But how much still remained to be done! How far was the dramatic art from having caught all those excellencies of which it is composed! How much was still to be achieved, not to perfect, but to create it! For may we not call a creation, that assemblage of new and tragic beauties, which bursts forth in Andromache, the first master-piece of Racine. "It was by starting from this point that Racine, more profound in the knowledge of his art than any who had preceded him, opened for himself a new path, and tragedy became a history of the passions and a tablet of the human heart.” (Eloge de Racine.) But we should not omit to throw a glance over the efforts of his early years. In the midst of all his defects, we shall thus perceive the germ of great poetical talent, and Racine early manifesting one of his peculiar inerits, I mean his versification. He was not past five and twenty when he produced his Rival Brothers, which had been commenced a long time before, a subject treated in all the ancient theatres, but which had not yet been attempted on the modern stage. Neither of the brothers can excite any interest; they are both guilty in nearly an equal degree, and are equally odious: the one is the usurper of a throne, and the other is the enemy of his country. The mother can show but an impotent grief; and the intrigues of love cannot well be mingled with the horrors of the house of Laius. Such is the defect of the subject, and it is not remedied by the fable. The manner of the young poet is faithfully copied from the defects of Corneille. Nothing more strongly proves that talents generally begin by imitation. It is at once an homage which we render to our masters, and a rock to be avoided, unless the model be perfect: for such is the inexperience and weakness of this age that it devotes itself to that which is easiest to be imitated, the faults. Thus we find in the Rival Brothers, one Creon, who, at the same time that he is embroiling his two nephews, and endeavouring to obtain the succession by destroying both, is most tranquilly and frigidly in love with the princess Antigone, as Maximus is with Emilia, and the rival of his son, Hemon, who, he well knows, is the preferred suitor. He finishes by making to Antigone, who does not disguise her hatred and contempt of him, a proposition at least as unsuitable and improper as that of Maximus to Emilia. When Eteocles and Polynices are killed, and their mother, Jocasta, has killed herself, and Hemon and Meneceus the two sons of Creon have perished in the sight of both crimes, this father who remains alone, can propose nothing better to Antigone than a marriage. Such a scene in the fifth act of a play filled with murders and crimes is sufficient to ruin it. Antigone replies only by turning away from him, and follows the example of the rest of the actors, by killing herself. Creon has not courage to imitate her, apparently because it has been said that all must not die; but he makes great outcries, and finishes by saying he will seek repose in the infernal regions. We find also in this play, long soliloquies without necessity, which they were in the habit of giving to the actors and actresses as the most proper opportunities to shine in, and in stanzas after the manner of those of Polyeuctes and Heraclius, a sort of episodical piece, which has long been banished from the stage: where it formed a shocking incongruity, by placing the poet too evidently in the place of the person represented. We have also declamations, maxims unnecessarily horrid, and even metaphysical reasoning instead of argument; faults into which Racine never afterwards fell. Jocasta addresses her two sons nearly in the same manner that Sabina, in the Horatii, speaks to her husband and brother-in law. She endeavours to convince them in a formal manner that they ought to kill her: and we may remark, here, how little interval there may be between a false and a true taste. Jocasta despairing of being able to prevail upon her sons, tells them that they ought to kill each other before the combat; that she will cast herself between their spears; but she proceeds, Je suis de tous les deux la commune ennemie, Puisque votre ennemi reçut de moi la vie. These subtleties are far too ingenious. This is not the language of grief: she has not sufficient command of herself to invent such sophisms: such a mind might, at this period, produce something brilliant, but it requires only a moment's reflection to see that this is false. Yet the Rival Brothers had some success, and is not destitute of beauties. The hatred of the two brothers is depicted with energy, and the scene of their interview is very well managed. The poet had the art of portraying two characters under the dominion of the same passion, and this alone sufficed to announce the dramatic talent which Moliere discovered and encouraged in the first production of Racine. Polynices has more grandeur and haughtiness; Eteocles is distinguished by ferocity and fury. When Jocasta represents to Polynices that Eteecles has won the regard of the people since his reign in Thebes, the prince answers, C'est un tyran qu'on aime Qui par cent lachetés táche à se maintenir |
