bitions of rage in the world. This is true grief, which abandons itself to all the feelings which misfortune excites in the soul of man; but which does not go beyond, and fall into the ravings of instinct. Such is the Andromache of Homer; and although Euripides has altered the character of it a little in the other scenes, by the sententious maxims which he puts in her mouth, yet he knows how to recover it entirely, when he represents maternal grief.

We will now study the Andromache of Racine.

"Although my tragedy," says Racine, in the preface of his Andromache, "bears the same name as the Andromache of Euripides, the subject is, nevertheless, very different. Andromache, in Euripides, has fears for the life of Molossus, who is a son whom she had of Pyrrhus, and whom Hermione wishes to put to death with his mother. But we are not here concerned with Molossus; Andromache knows no other husband than Hector, nor any other son but Astyanax. The majority of those who have heard of Andromache, only know her as the widow of Hector, and as the mother of Astyanax. We do not believe that she must love either another husband or another son; and we doubt whether the tears of Andromache would have produced, upon the mind of my spectators, the impression which they made, if they had flowed for another son than he whom she had by Hector."

Racine was right, in saying that the subject of his Andromache was very different from the subject of the Andromache of Euripides. There is, between the two pieces, only one point of resemblance. Andromache, in Racine, as in Euripides, expresses maternal love.

The difference between the ancient and modern Andromache extends even to the difference of their customs and their society. The Andromache of Euripides represents faithfully the destiny of captives, in antiquity. Yesterday a queen, to-day a slave; her past grandeur did not protect her from the humiliations and labors of servitude. She weaved cloth under the orders of a mistress; she fetches water from the public fountains; she has the care of the house; in short, she is a slave. As a slave, also, she entered into the bed of the conqueror :

Stirpis Achilleæ fastus juvenem que superbum,
Servitio enixæ, tulimus.

says Andromache herself, in Virgil; and when Pyrrhus has abandoned her, in order to marry Hermione, he then married her to one of his slaves, Helenus, one of the captives of Troy, and the brother of Hector himself:

Me famulo famulam que Heleno transmisit habendam.

Such, in antiquity, was the condition of a woman who was made a slave; and even in the age of Virgil, in the golden age of Roman civilization, no one was shocked at hearing Andromache herself speak of this humiliation.

The Andromache of Racine does not much resemble this model. She was a prisoner, but she was honored and respected; she had a confidant, while the ancient Andromache had only a companion in slavery. She was a queen at the court of Pyrrhus, as James II. was king at St. Germain; because, according to modern ideas, even dethroned kings preserved their rank; in short, Pyrrhus, notwithstanding the violence of his love, is a prudent and respectful master, who adores his captive, but who believes that he would degrade himself, if he exercised towards her the rights of slavery, as it existed in ancient times. Andromache, on her part, finds this respect perfectly natural. The antique slave avows, with downcast eyes, that she is obedient to the love of her master; the modern Andromache is offended at the idea of not remaining faithful to the memory of Hector, and she refuses the hand of Pyrrhus. These are delicate scruples, which give evidence of the purity of her soul, but which also testify to the liberty which she enjoys, according to the customs of modern society, and of the respect which Christianity and chivalry entertain for woman. We believe, with M. de Chateaubriand, that Christianity has given to the Andromache of Racine its delicious purity of sentiment; but we especially believe that it has given to her the idea of her independence.

Thus between the modern and the ancient Andromache there is no resemblance of fortune; the one is almost a queen, the other a slave. But both of them are mothers-both have to protect the lives of their sons. Yet we see what a great difference there is between them!

The Andromache of Racine is at once a wife and a mother. She is faithful to her Hector beyond the tomb. The son whom she loves and protects is Astyanax, a pledge of the love of Hector, and who represents him in her eyes:

It is Hector, [says she,] always embracing him:

See his eyes, his mouth, and his rashness already.

It is himself. It is you, dear husband, whom I embrace.
Act ii. scene 5.

Thus the love which she has for her son is mingled with the fidelity which she preserves for her husband. Troy, Hector, Astyanax, Priam, are names which return continually to her lips; and Pyrrhus himself does not dare to forbid her to mention those names which cherish her fidelity and her grief.

In Euripides, the son whom Andromache endeavors to protect from death is no longer Astyanax; it is Molossus, a child whom she had of Pyrrhus; she is no longer a wife, as in Homer and in Racine, she is only a mother; and Euripides (with that philosophic discrimination which he displays in the choice and disposition of his subjects, no less than in the discourses of his dramatic characters,) seems to have wished to take from Andromache all that was foreign to the sentiment of maternal love, so that she may only represent this sentiment of which she was the purest and most perfect model. She loves her son, Molossus, not because she attaches to his life, as to that of Astyanax, recollections of happiness and glory; she loves him although he is the fruit of servitude; she loves him because he is her son.

The peril of Molossus is more imminent and more terrible than that of Astyanax. We understand, in Racine, Orestes, who comes in the name of Greece to demand the death of Astyanax; but Pyrrhus is generous, and moreover, he loves Andromache. Thus, even when he threatens Andromache to destroy her son, the spectator, like Andromache herself, does not believe,

That in his heart he has sworn her death:
Can love push barbarity to such extremes?

Act iii. scene 8.

She always hopes, and she has reason to do so. The danger of Molossus does not permit her to entertain such hopes. The absence of Pyrrhus abandons Andromache and Molossus to the power of Hermione and Menelaus, and affords a new evidence of the disorder which prevailed in society in the heroic times, where not only death, but even the absence of the father, placed the child at the mercy of the first comer.

Andromache, in order to escape the jealous anger of Hermione, has taken refuge as a suppliant at the foot of the altar of Thetis, and she has concealed her son. But Menelaus, who acts the part of a traitor and a base wretch, and who represents the Lacedemonians, with whom Athens was at war, when Euripides causes his piece to be played; Menelaus has discovered the retreat of Molossus, and threatens Andromache to kill her son before her eyes if she does not quit the asylum which she has sought at the foot of the altar. Choose," said he to Andromache, "to die yourself, or see the death of your son atone for your offences towards me and my daughter." Thus, in order to save her son, it is not a question here, as in Racine, to forget the love which she has for the ashes of Hector; it is not the struggle between opposing sentiments. The alternative is to die herself, or to see her son die. Andromache does not hesitate.

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"No," says she, "I will not save my life at the expense of that of my child. Let him live! him a more fortunate fate.

I hope for
It would be a

See, Me-
You can

shame for me not to know how to die for my son. nelaus, I abandon the altar which protects me. now sacrifice your victim. O my son! your mother is willing to die, so that you may live. If you escape death, remember your mother and how she has perished for you; and when you will see your father again, when you will kiss him, tell him, in weeping and kissing his hands, tell him what I have done to save you. Our children are our life and our soul. Whoever has them not, and censures the love which we have for them, I pity him; he has less troubles, but he is not to be envied even in his happiness.'

We touch at this point the fundamental difference between the two pieces. The subject of Racine's piece, is much less the peril of Astyanax than the love of Pyrrhus for Andromache, and his doubt between Andromache and Hermione. Who will triumph, Andromache or Hermione? This it is which makes the principal interest of the piece. It is true, we often hear Astyanax and Hector spoken of; but the love of Pyrrhus, this love now suppliant and then imperious, full of anger, which a single glance appeases, and of resolutions, which a word changes; this love constitutes the basis of the piece, and also makes all of its incidents. In the piece of Euripides, on the other hand, it is not a question of

love, the only question is the danger of Molossus. Orestes, in Euripides, scarcely permits it to be seen, that he loves Hermione. He does not come to Epirus to seek a barbarian ; no: "In passing by the country of Pythia, to consult the oracle of Dodona, he has thought proper to make inquiry about a relative, Hermione of Sparta; he wishes to know if she is living and happy." In order to perceive more clearly the difference between the two pieces, compare in Racine and Euripides the scene between Andromache and Hermione; it is in both poets, the jealousy of Hermione which makes the subject of it; but in Racine, this jealousy is that of a woman, who, enjoying with delight the humiliation of her rival, knows however how to restrain it, and permits her passion to burst forth only in ironical expressions:

If Pyrrhus must be ruled, who can do it better than you?
Your eyes have long enough reigned over his soul,
Make him pronounce it: I will consent to it, madam.

Act iii. scene 4.

The Greek Hermione, on the other hand, is the legitimate wife, who in a fit of jealousy and anger, wishes to kill the slave who has disputed with her the bed of her husband. It is Sarah, driving away Hagar; it is a family scene of the patriarchs and heroes, or a scene in the Seraglio. We see also what violence and abusive expressions are used! "It is you," says she to Andromache, "it is you, who, both a slave and a captive, wished to drive me away from this palace, in order to become the mistress of it yourself. By your fascinations, you make me odious to my husband, and you have struck my womb with sterility. The minds of the women of Asia are skilled in these fatal arts, but I will put a stop to your audacity. Neither the abode of Nereis, nor this temple, nor this altar, shall protect you... Wretch, have you carried your impudence so far as to enter the bed of him whose father has killed your husband?"

Nor is the Andromache of Euripides, this sweet and complaining mother who entreats Hermione to save Astyanax, who speaks of their rivalry in the presence of Pyrrhus, only to disavow it:

I do not come here, with jealous tears,

To envy you a heart, which yields to your charms.

Act iii. scene 4.