Plato’s Phaedrus & Racine’s Phèdre
When desire, having rejected reason and overpowered judgment which leads to right, is set in the direction of the pleasure which beauty can inspire, and when again under the influence of its kindred desires it is moved with violent motion towards the beauty of corporeal forms, it acquires a surname from this very violent motion, and is called love.
– Socrates (469-399 B.C.), ... in Plato, Phaedrus.
I'm most familiar with the gut-wrenching, "violent motion" Socrates defines here as the transmutative movement of desire into so-called "Love," through my studies of the French neoclassical tragedian, Jean Racine, and of his exemplar piece of tragic theater:
Phèdre (1677), a masterfully theatrical dramatization of similar dialogues on love, the soul, madness, divine inspiration, and the proper forms of art and rhetoric as found in Plato's
Phaedrus (c. 370 B.C.).
Plato's use of movement as the main descriptive motif in this passage by Socrates fully respected the corporeal theater traditions (e.g., dithyrambic & choral dancing, pantomime, masks, etc.) of Ancient Greek Theatre. In Racine's
Phèdre, however, light (i.e., sunlight, fire, flames, etc.) and darkness (i.e., shadows, veils, blindness, etc.) are the main motifs used to represent the transmutative eclipsing of desire by so-called "Amour.”
Racine toys with our sense of sight and sound, as he explores impassioned sanguine sexual drive, the blood-lust of maternal instinct, and the bloodlines of familial obligation, all through depictions of a furiously tormented tragic heroine who inches closer and closer toward imminent death just when prospects of incest surface as
faits accomplis.
The following exerts of poetry from Jean Racine’s neoclassical masterpiece,
Phèdre, offer decent textual references to and representations of the aforementioned motifs.
HIPPOLYTE
Il veut avec leur sœur ensevelir leur nom,
Et que jusqu’au tombeau soumise à sa tutelle,
Jamais les feux d’hymen ne s’allument pour elle.
(I.i.ll. 114-116)
In the first citation, HIPPOLYTE — Phèdre’s son by marriage, her peer in youth, and the man with whom she is madly in love — describes how the sole reason that his father, Thésée — king of Athens — took Phèdre on as a matrimonial conquest was “to bury” (ensevelir) the family name of Phèdre’s dead father: Minos.
Hippolyte goes on to explain how his father’s ulterior intention was to be certain that Phèdre submits to “his reign” (sa tutelle) as husband and king “until her death” (jusqu’au tombeau). Agonizing over the infamously vile and incestuous love he shares with his new mother, Hippolyte laments, “Never will the hymen fires shine bright for [Phèdre]” (Jamais les feux d’hymen ne s’allument pour elle).
OENONE
Vous-même, rappelant votre force première,
Vous vouliez vous montrer et revoir la lumière.
Vous la voyez, madame, et prête à vous cacher,
Vous haïssez le jour que vous veniez chercher ?
PHÈDRE
[…] Soleil, je te viens voir pour la dernière fois.
(I.iii.ll. 13-16, 20)
The second passage is a citation of dialogue between OENONE — nurse-maid to the new queen of Athens — and PHÈDRE which illustrates with very direct language the metonymical allusion to “maternity and the act of childbirth” (votre force première), or in the case of Phèdre, the act of breaking the maternal cycle by not being reborn to light again.
Oenone’s passage, which refers at once to “being shown and seeing light” (vous montrer et revoir la lumière): the light of impassioned love, concludes with a frustrated condemnation against Phèdre: “You see it, madame, and ready to hide yourself, / You hate the day for which you had just searched.”
This closing couplet of Oenone’s response to Phèdre’s plight represents an accusation against the new Queen that she is merely like a newborn child who squeezes her eyes shut to brilliant illumination (i.e., passion, life, etc.) in hatred of the day (i.e., daylight, light, life, etc.) that she was in fact just seeking.
Phèdre then responds, after three lines of erroneously omitted text, “Sun, I’m coming to see you for the last time.” In a very pointed and purposed manner, Phèdre renounces the sun (i.e., daylight, light, life, etc.) and essentially commits herself to death (i.e., darkness, blindness, veiled sight, etc.), for fear that her own furiously vile and incestuous passion would only cause her immense suffering in life.
HIPPOLYTE
Ma honte ne peut plus soutenir votre vue;
Et je vais…
PHÈDRE
Ah ! Cruel, tu m’as trop entendue.
(II.v.ll. 92-93)
The citation above is the exchange of dialogue between HIPPLOYTE and PHÈDRE which introduces, incites, and informs that which is perhaps the most masterfully written monologue of dramatic poetry in all of neoclassical theater (
Phèdre, II.v.ll. 93-134).
This extrapolated, shared couplet represents the single most evident use of the motifs of sight and sound by Racine in the entire text of
Phèdre. Coincidentally, it is the sound of Phèdre’s bellowed beckoning, which triumphs perniciously over Hippolyte’s own failed attempt to conscientiously object to the sight of his new mother-beloved.
I argue that the line: “Ah! Cruel, you have heard too much of me,” would definitely have ensnared the minds, thoughts and attention of any arrogantly aloof and detached aristocratic orchestral audience to the stage play, if played right.
The neoclassical theatre of 17th Century France was envisioned not as a
théâtre du tréteau, but rather it was meant to be played on interior proscenium stages whose architecture was adorned with a garishly ornate & sumptuous decor of gold, whose scenic play space was dimly lit by candled footlights, and whose elite socialite & aristocratic orchestral audience was best lit by the brilliant glow from flames of a giant chandelier.
During the reign of
Le Roi Soleil (i.e., The Sun King): Louis XIV, much emphasis, attention, admiration and accolades were lavished upon Aristocrats, who pompously paraded as living embodiments of neoclassical perfection amongst stalls of the orchestra and the loges of playhouses, such as
Le Théâtre du Vieux Colombier or
La Comédie-Française, for example. Rightfully so then, this audience of Aristocrats was cast in the brightest light.
If full attention was not being paid by ear to the languidly illustrious sonorities of Racine's dramatic poetry, then certainly an audience's eyes would be dully enthralled by the dazzlingly resplendent luminosity which cast a sublime glow over themselves. Thus, the carnal theater of
la haute culture would play out in seats and aisles of la salle, while dramatic actors bellowed forth beautifully crafted rhymed couplets of dodecosyllabic alexandrins as inaudible room tone, in the shadows of a dimly lit stage.
The theatrical stage
à l'italienne of 17th Century France was in all points of fact far more well-equipped than the contemporaneous playhouses of England, German and Spain. In fact, evidence has well been recorded into the timeless tomes of architectural history for the Neoclassical Age that depicts the Parisian playhouses of that period as touting many working innovations of scenic machinery.
One of these innovations, borrowed from the theaters of the Italian Renaissance, would have been ambient lighting overhung above the platform stage and behind the proscenium arch. As for the four state-commissioned theaters of royal Paris, it would have been possible therefore not only to dim and intensify the luminosity of these candled lights; but, with sheaths of heavily wax-coated and flame-resistant, colored paper, stage mechanicals of the time would have been able to create subtle changes in the tonality and hues of radiant light and shadows on stage.
When all was said and done, the
théâtre à l'italienne of 17th Century Neoclassical France would have (and did) serve as the perfect creative space in which Jean Racine, Pierre Corneille et Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, dit Molière, could compose sumptuous dramatic poetry perfectly attuned to the stage, scenic & script conventions of that time.
In fact, I would even venture to argue that the poetry of Racine's
Phèdre, ripe with allusions to the dramatic interplay of sight & sound, light & darkness, and life & death as representing the transmutative eclipsing of desire by "Love," was written for the specific 17th Century neoclassical
lieu théâtrale in which it debuted: a theatrical space dimly lit o'er its actors, but brilliantly beaming o'er its elite socialite, aristocratic audience.
Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf
[20101119T180043PST]
