eJournals Papers on French Seventeenth Century Literature 45/88

Papers on French Seventeenth Century Literature
0343-0758
2941-086X
Narr Verlag Tübingen
2018
4588

Ghosts in Early French Opera

2018
Perry Gethner
PFSCL XLV, 88 (2018) Ghosts in Early French Opera P ERRY G ETHNER (O KLAHOMA S TATE U NIVERSITY , S TILLWATER ) Because ghosts are normally perceived as frightening and because tragédies lyriques, whose plots focus on the supernatural, tend to feature a wide variety of scary creatures, it comes as a surprise to find that not all operatic ghosts are meant to terrify. Some groups of ghosts come from the blissful regions, while others are demonic; in one case the ghosts are amusing. Some are purely decorative; others are more integrated into the plot. Ghosts usually appear in groups, either as choristers or as dancers or both. If we see them in the underworld, that is because they are inhabitants of that area; they appear on earth only when called up by a god or magician. In both cases, they possess minimal agency. Solo ghosts either are summoned or appear unbidden in order to deliver a prophecy or to refuse to do so. Such ghosts are angry and warn the living person of impending disaster, though in one case an angry ghost delivers a warning that is designed to be helpful. Clearly, audiences must have loved ghosts, since they are found in roughly one-third of the tragic operas staged in Paris during the last three decades of the seventeenth century. Nevertheless, these ghosts are so varied that they have only two major features in common: they are visually exciting, and their intervention is not necessary to the outcome of the plot. Threatening ghosts have several features in common: they are solo characters who appear in a single scene; they are people whom the recipient knows or knows about; they are rivals or obstacles to one of the central characters; they always tell the truth, though it is not helpful for the listener; they do not advance the plot, because their warnings do not cause things to happen that would not have happened anyway; they create a sense of impending doom. In other respects, however, they differ widely. Of the five examples in my corpus, four of the ghosts are men and one is a woman; two have just died, whereas the others have been dead for some time; two Perry Gethner 148 are summoned by a sorceress, whereas the others appear of their own volition; they can appear at any point between Act II and Act V. I shall discuss the frightening solo ghosts in chronological order. In Philippe Quinault’s Amadis (1684, music by Lully) the ghost appears unbidden but responds to an invocation by a sorceress. Arcabonne is one of the rare complex villains in a world of largely polarized characters. Although trained in the magical arts by her brother, the evil enchanter Arcalaüs, she has achieved very limited mastery of them. When attacked by a monster, she found herself powerless to resist; she was saved only through the chance appearance of an unknown knight, and when he dropped his helmet and revealed his face, she fell in love with him. Throughout the opera she will struggle to reconcile the two warring sides of her nature: love and compassion versus hatred and revenge. The latter emotions are connected to the vow that she and Arcalaüs have made to avenge the death of their brother, the knight Ardan Canile, who perished in combat against Amadis. Through their enchantments they lure to their palace many of the friends and relatives of Amadis, and finally the hero himself. They plan to kill all these people as part of a vengeance ceremony before Ardan Canile’s tomb. But when Arcabonne addresses her dead brother to tell him of the blood she plans to spill for his sake, he surprises her by emerging from his tomb and denouncing her: Ah ! tu me trahis, malheureuse ! Ah ! tu vas trahir tes serments. Je retombe ; le jour me blesse. Tu me suivras dans peu de temps ; Pour te reprocher ta faiblesse, C’est aux Enfers que je t’attends. (III.3.454-59) 1 As he reenters his tomb, Arcabonne assures him that nothing will stop her fury. But at once there is a coup de théâtre: Amadis is brought in, chained, and Arcabonne recognizes him as the mysterious knight who saved her life and with whom she is in love. Unable to carry out her plan to stab him, she removes his chains and asks him to name his reward for having saved her life. Amadis asks her to free all the captives, which she does, though she keeps Amadis with her. In the following act, Arcabonne and Arcalaüs inflict psychological torture on the hero and on his beloved Oriane, but the lovers are saved by the virtuous enchantress Urgande, who is Amadis’s principal protector. Arcalaüs summons his demons to fight against Urgande’s spirits, 1 References are to the critical edition by Buford Norman: Philippe Quinault, Livrets d’opéra (Toulouse: Société de Littératures Classiques, 1999), 2 volumes. All libretti are by Quinault, unless otherwise indicated. Ghosts in Early French Opera 149 but his forces are speedily defeated, whereupon he and Arcabonne commit suicide. The ghost’s prophecies have indeed come true, but they would have been realized without his warning, and he presumably remains angry, since his slaying has gone unavenged. In Bernard de Fontenelle’s Énée et Lavinie (1690, music by Colasse) the ghost appears unbidden, and it seems to be benevolent, delivering a warning to the heroine. The princess of Latium, Lavinie, is courted by two suitors, Turnus and Énée, but has fallen in love with the latter. When the oracle of Faunus (her grandfather, who was later turned into a minor deity) announces that Heaven will endorse whichever suitor Lavinie chooses for her husband, the king gives his daughter the authority to decide between the two rivals. But before she can declare her choice, the ghost of Didon appears to tell Lavinie how Énée betrayed her, which led to her suicide. Didon implies, though she does not say it specifically, that Lavinie should reject Énée because of his past history of infidelity, and she paints his conduct in the blackest possible terms: “Par une feinte ardeur il augmenta ma flamme, / Et m’abandonna pour jamais.” And she adds, “Ma mort ne put toucher mon indigne vainqueur” (II.5.272-76). 2 Lavinie is so horrified by this revelation that when she next meets her beloved, she treats him with coldness, which leads Énée to suspect interference from Junon, his principal divine adversary. In the following act, during a ceremony honoring Bacchus, a group of “Bacchantes furieuses” surrounds Lavinie, causing her to undergo a hallucination in which she is transported to Carthage and witnesses Didon’s suicide. While still in a trance, she tells the assembled company that she names Turnus as her husband. But Didon’s ghost does not ultimately impact the outcome. Énée later gets the chance to explain to Lavinie that what he felt for Didon was not true love, but rather affection arising from gratitude, and that he abandoned the Carthaginian queen only because of an order from the gods; he insists that Lavinie is the only woman that he has ever truly loved. Lavinie takes his word and surmises that the ghost’s appearance was the work of infernal powers, designed to harm her, rather than help her. Now that the lovers have reconciled, it remains to dispose of Turnus, and that is handled by the simple expedient of a duel between the rivals. The ghost has thus served merely to create a temporary misunderstanding between the lovers, and it is soon cleared up. The appearance of a ghost in Louise-Geneviève de Sainctonge’s Didon (1693, music by Desmarest) is exceptional in that it happens while the recipient is asleep; it thus starts as a nightmare. In fact, Didon tells her sister 2 References to Alain Niderst’s edition: Fontenelle, Œuvres complètes (Paris: Fayard, 1992), volume 4. Perry Gethner 150 in Act I that her first husband, Sichée, haunts her regularly, reproaching her for breaking her vow not to remarry. Curiously, she refers to him not as a ghost but as “une image sanglante” (I.2.31). 3 Thus, it is not surprising that he appears to her again at the end of the opera, this time in view of the audience. When Didon becomes enraged over the hasty departure of her beloved Énée and his fleet, she resolves to stab herself with the very sword that he had given her. But then she feels faint and declares that she will probably die of grief without needing to commit suicide. While she is in a swoon, the ghost of Sichée appears to denounce her again for her infidelity to him, and this time he announces her impending death: Après avoir trahi tes serments et ta foi, Peux-tu souffrir le jour, malheureuse princesse ? Un infidèle comme toi, Me venge de ta faiblesse ; Viens cacher pour jamais dans l’horreur du tombeau, La honte d’un hymen que tu croyais si beau. (V.5.866-71) Didon regains consciousness just in time to see that the ghost was real before it disappears. Realizing that the ghost’s mission was to impel her to commit suicide, she complies at once; however, since this is something that she had already decided upon, Sichée’s appearance is not crucial for the tragic outcome. However, his insistence that Didon deserves to be punished because she has broken her vow does not diminish the pathos of the heroine’s death (and in this version, she is alone on stage when she dies) or the audience’s perception of her as a victim. Sainctonge’s second tragic opera, Circé (1694, music by Desmarest) combines two of the common features: the ghost is a rival figure, and it is summoned by an evil sorceress. Elphénor, a Greek prince who is among the companions of Ulysse, loves Astérie, a virtuous nymph in the service of Circé. But Astérie rejects him, both because he is treacherous and un-gallant and because she loves another of the Greek princes, Polite. Although Elphénor’s love is sincere, he loses the audience’s sympathy by constantly colluding with Circé to promote his own selfish interests. He reveals to her the secret plans by Ulysse’s crew to escape from the island, whereas he wishes to stay. He is delighted when Circé takes revenge on the men, transforming them into animals, and is furious when she relents at Ulysse’s request, all the more so since he suspects that Astérie must be in love with 3 References are to the libretto contained in the critical edition of the score: Henry Desmarest, Tragédies lyriques, volume 1: Didon (Versailles: Editions du Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, 2003). (I have modernized the spelling here and in subsequent quotations.) Ghosts in Early French Opera 151 another of the Greeks. Then, when he overhears Ulysse declaring his love to another woman, whom he fails to recognize, he informs Circé of the hero’s betrayal. The sorceress rewards him for his spying by bestowing upon him the hand of Astérie. But the nymph, scandalized by what she calls criminal conduct, denounces him and declares that she would rather kill herself than marry him. Elphénor, unable to overcome his jealous love but unwilling to possess his beloved by force, stabs himself. Circé, determined to take revenge on both Ulysse and her rival, then tries to learn that rival’s identity by summoning Elphénor’s ghost. She promises to avenge him if he cooperates, even ordering a group of four demons to build a tomb for him. However, Elphénor refuses to name the rival, merely confirming that Ulysse is unfaithful to her and declaring that her attempt to avenge him would be futile. He asks merely to return to Hades. Unusually, the libretto provides a description of how the appearance of the ghost was staged: “Il s’élève une grosse Vapeur dans le fond du Théâtre, où on voit sortir l’Ombre d’Elphénor” (IV.2) 4 . We also get a physical description of the ghost himself: Circé, when invoking the fury Alecton and the rivers of the underworld with a request to send back the ghost, says: “Que d’Elphénor l’ombre sanglante / Pour un moment quitte vos tristes Bords, / Qu’elle répande ici l’horreur et l’épouvante.” The fact that he is bloody reminds the audience that he has committed suicide only a few moments earlier. The ghost’s appearance turns out to be unnecessary to the plot since he does not reveal the requested information; besides, Circé soon learns it when the rival comes to her island, looking for Ulysse. That rival is the virtuous Éolie, daughter of the wind god. She and Ulysse fell in love during one of his previous adventures, and she has come to rescue him after hearing reports that he was shipwrecked. Needless to say, the gods intervene to protect the virtuous characters and to thwart Circé. Elphénor’s machinations are likewise thwarted, since at the end Astérie is united with the man she loves and who loves her in return, Polite. In Antoine Houdar de La Motte’s Amadis de Grèce (1699, music by Destouches), the ghost of the Prince of Thrace is summoned by an evil sorceress to assist her in persecuting the virtuous lovers. The prince is a rival figure, but he is more complex than usual: a basically well-intentioned character, he considers himself a good friend of Amadis, whom he has accompanied during his adventures. Unfortunately, both men have fallen in love with the same woman, the Theban princess Niquée. When the hero prepares to disenchant Niquée and her entourage, the prince is no longer 4 References are to the original edition: Circé. Tragédie en musique (Paris: Christophe Ballard, 1694). Perry Gethner 152 able to contain his jealousy; he admits his love to Amadis, and he chooses to work with the sorceress Mélisse, who is in love with Amadis, to keep the true lovers apart. Mélisse casts a spell over Niquée so that the princess mistakes the Prince of Thrace for Amadis and makes her declaration of love to him, while Amadis watches in horror. But the prince is too honorable to profit from this deception and instead resolves to win Niquée properly by fighting a duel over her. Not surprisingly, Amadis, who is a superhero, prevails. But even in death the prince maintains his code of honor. When Mélisse summons him back from the underworld in order to assist with her plan to torture the virtuous lovers, he refuses to cooperate, even declaring that he has returned from the underworld “malgré moi.” He informs her that the gods, being “vengeurs de l’injustice,” are protecting Amadis and Niquée and will soon end their suffering (V.3). 5 Moreover, the punishment they are imposing on him is to return to earth to make this announcement. Mélisse makes one more attempt to stab Niquée but is stopped by an invisible force. Realizing that the gods have defeated her and that she has no hope of winning the heart of her beloved, she commits suicide. However, she would have killed herself even without her appeal to the ghost. There is one anomalous case where a group of singing and dancing ghosts is presented as threatening. In Thésée (1675, music by Lully) Quinault presents an early example of what would come to be a standard feature: an evil magician or malevolent deity summons a group of demonic characters to earth in order to frighten or torment the virtuous characters whom they hate; however, these are not normally ghosts. They may threaten physical harm, but in most cases the damage they inflict is purely psychological. 6 In this instance the sorceress Médée, discovering that the hero Thésée, whom she loves, is in love with Églé, does not hesitate to make use of her magic powers to separate them. First, she changes the set from a palace into a horrid desert filled with monsters. Then she frightens away the pair of confidants, having a “fantôme volant” snatch away the man’s sword (III.5). She next summons “les Habitants des Enfers” to terrify Églé. However, although her invocation begins with “Sortez, Ombres, sortez de la nuit éternelle” (III.7.652), the chorus members are not ghosts but standard 5 References are to the original edition: Amadis de Grèce, Tragédie (Paris: Christophe Ballard, 1699). 6 Catherine Kintzler argues that the presentation of violence as pure spectacle in opera neutralizes its potential to horrify the spectators, allowing them to view such scenes as entertaining or even comic, whereas in spoken tragedies the absence of direct representation of violence forces us to contemplate its metaphysical dimension in all its atrocity. See Théâtre et opéra à l’âge classique. Une familière étrangeté (Paris: Fayard, 2005), pp. 139-42. Ghosts in Early French Opera 153 demons, who glorify rage and delight in the suffering of their victims. Only a handful of dancers are garbed as ghosts: two acrobatic “fantômes” and four “spectres volants” who carry the sleeping Thésée to the desert where Églé remains a captive (IV.1). There is one group of ghosts summoned to earth that is not only nonthreatening, but actually encouraging and inspirational. In the final act of Roland (1685, music by Lully), the benevolent fairy Logistille restores the title character to sanity; he has gone mad after discovering that his beloved Angélique has deceived him and married another man. The curative process has two stages: a troupe of singing and dancing fairies creates a harmonious atmosphere that calms him down, after which Logistille summons the ghosts of past heroes, who are likewise both singers and dancers, to make him recall his obligation as a warrior: O vous dont le nom plein de gloire Dans la Nuit du Trépas n’est point enseveli, Vous dont la célèbre mémoire Triomphe pour jamais du Temps et de l’Oubli, Venez, héroïques Ombres, Venez seconder nos efforts : Sortez des retraites sombres Du profond empire des Morts. (V.2.996-1003) The chorus of ghosts sings four times during the opera’s closing scenes, mostly just repeating the words of Logistille. They urge Roland to take up arms again and follow Gloire, while shunning the “liens honteux de l’Amour” (V.3.1028). Roland, fully cured, dons his arms, to the delight of the fairies and ghosts. For the first time in my corpus, ghosts represent a positive force, establishing a tradition of heroism that spans the ages (and which in the prologue extends to Louis XIV, in the present day of the original audience). However, the physical presence of the ghosts is unnecessary in that Logistille could simply have reminded Roland that there is a long line of heroes whom he needs to emulate, or else she could have transported him to the Temple de la Gloire, where he could behold their statues. Showing them on the stage, temporarily brought back to life and welcoming him into their ranks, merely reinforces the obvious message. 7 7 Buford Norman proposes an allegorical interpretation of this episode. Just as Roland’s cure is effected by becoming the spectator of a miniature opera-withinan-opera, Lully was suggesting that “only the tragédie lyrique is a worthy spectacle for the glory years of the reign of Louis XIV” (Touched by the Graces: The Libretti of Philippe Quinault in the Context of French Classicism, Birmingham: Summa Publications, 2001, p. 321). Perry Gethner 154 The next two libretti in my corpus show ghosts not as beings who return to earth, but rather as beings who dwell in the underworld. In operas where the nether regions are depicted as a place where virtuous heroines are made to feel welcome, the denizens are anything but frightening. In Alceste (1674, music by Lully) the title character has given her life in order to prevent her mortally wounded fiancé from dying. Her action is viewed as so heroic that when her Ombre arrives in the underworld, Pluton and Proserpine bring her to their palace to honor her, and they host a celebration in which singing and dancing members of the infernal court perform. Their song emphasizes the positive aspects of death: it brings rest and deliverance from suffering. When Alcide arrives to rescue Alceste and bring her back to earth, Proserpine declares: “Il faut que l’Amour extrême/ Soit plus fort/ Que la mort” (IV.5.780-82). The assembled company takes up that statement, thus proving the benevolent nature of underworld figures. The ghost of Alceste never speaks, presumably to mark a contrast with her behavior while she is alive; in fact, there are no other ghosts in Pluton’s palace, just his Suivants. However, the scene in Pluton’s palace is preceded by a brief scene on the banks of the river Achéron. The boatman Charon allows a group of Ombres into his boat in order to cross into Hades, but only if they have the money to pay him. One ghost who lacks the money pleads with him, saying, “Une Ombre tient si peu de place,” but he is adamant: “Il faut encor payer au-delà du Trépas” (IV.1.678, 688). This comic scene is not indispensable to the plot, but it allows for a different set, plus a new group of singers and dancers; it also introduces a note of levity and even a touch of satire into a primarily serious work. An even rosier picture of the underworld occurs in Proserpine (1680, music by Lully). Set in the Elysian Fields, Act IV of this opera begins with an idyllic scene where a chorus of Ombres heureuses, joined by flute players, celebrate the peace and calm pleasures, included requited love, found in their realm, and they note that these pleasures never cloy. O bienheureuse vie, Vous ne nous serez point ravie. O doux plaisirs dont nos vœux sont comblés, Vous ne serez jamais troublés. (IV.1.666-69) When the title character, who has just arrived in the underworld after being abducted by Pluton, expresses her sorrow and homesickness, the shades join Ascalaphe, Pluton’s confidant, in urging her to find happiness by requiting the love of her kidnapper, and they repeat this refrain multiple times: “Aimez qui vous aime, / Rien n’est si charmant” (IV.2.699-715). Pluton, unable at first to soothe his beloved, then organizes a festival in her honor, in which two troupes of singers and dancers, the Ombres heureuses and the Ghosts in Early French Opera 155 Divinités infernales who are pleased to welcome their new queen, assure Proserpine that love is the strongest of emotions, triumphing even in the underworld. It seems a bit strange to find lyrics like “Dans les Enfers / Tout rit, tout chante” (IV. 5.869-70), but the point is that through the power of genuine love there can be joy even in the unlikeliest places. There is one group of ghosts that cannot be categorized as either threatening or non-threatening, but rather functions as metatheatrical. In Thomas Corneille’s Médée (1693, music by Charpentier), the title character begins her vengeance on Créon, the Corinthian king who has mistreated her, by demonstrating that her power is superior to his. When he orders her arrest, Médée touches his guards with her magic wand, which causes them to turn their arms against one another. Créon then tries to seize her himself, whereupon the guards arrest their own king. When he denounces them for this act of treason, Médée announces that she will at once cause their revolt to cease. She then draws a circle in the air with her wand, which summons a troupe of “fantômes” disguised as beautiful women, and Médée notes that their appearance is anything but spooky: Objets agréables, Fantômes aimables, Apaisez les fureurs De ces farouches cœurs. (IV.7) 8 The ghosts sing and dance for the men in a dreamlike sequence, urging them to abandon their anger and yield to the charm of seeing them. Unusually for an opera libretto, the ensnaring women do not use the word “love,” though that is certainly what they intend to inspire. At the conclusion of their performance, the stage directions read: “Les Fantômes disparaissent, et les Gardes charmés de leur beauté abandonnent le Roi pour les suivre.” When Créon, now left unprotected, continues to refuse Médée’s demand (that he keep his original promise to marry off his daughter to his ally, the Prince of Argos, and not to Jason), she punishes him by causing him to go mad; while in that condition, he stabs the prince and then himself (off stage). As usual, the scene with the ghosts is not strictly necessary, since Médée could have rendered Créon powerless merely by casting a spell over the guards to make them immobile. But that would have produced a less spectacular display of her magical prowess and also deprived the fourth act of a divertissement episode. Perhaps the most unusual feature of this passage is that when sorcerers call upon spirits to impersonate humans, the supernatural actors are usually 8 References are to the original edition: Médée. Tragédie en musique (Paris: Christophe Ballard, 1693). Perry Gethner 156 described as demons, not as ghosts. That is the case most notably in Quinault’s Armide (1686), where the title character has demon actresses play the role of the sweethearts of the two knights sent to free the imprisoned Renaud, and in his Amadis, where demons impersonate a group of shepherds and nymphs, as well as the hero’s beloved, Oriane. The most obvious reason for the use of ghosts as actors in Médée is that the sorceress has already summoned a troupe of demons at the end of the previous act, for the purpose of preparing the horrid poison that she will later use to kill her rival, Créuse; the supernatural creatures in Act IV, who wear different costumes and display radically different personalities from those in Act III, need a separate designation. The ghosts are also non-demonic in the sense that they do not tell any lies or cause any harm to the people bewitched: they merely urge the men to enjoy looking at them and to change their emotions from alarm and fury to calm and pleasure. The fact that these are unsubstantial spirits, rather than former humans, helps to justify the use of the term fantôme, rather than the more normal ombre. 9 Given that the ghosts in these ten operas are so diverse, what overall conclusion can we draw from them? I suggest that they shed light on the notion of unity of action as applied to tragédie lyrique. Although it was acknowledged from the start that operas needed multiple scene changes, thus flouting the unity of place, and that it was permissible to ignore the unity of time, most librettists were careful to preserve the unity of action. However, that rule was applied with considerable flexibility. The fact that each of these scenes with ghosts could have been eliminated without altering the outcome of the plot seems to indicate a different type of unity at work: what I will call unity of ambiance. In French baroque opera the human world constantly communicates with a variety of supernatural realms, but the appearance of non-human characters does not always have a decisive effect on the fate of the humans; sometimes the impact is only momentary. However, the supernatural interventions always contribute to the unity of ambiance by creating excitement and suspense, and by giving the impression that higher powers of various kinds take a direct interest in human affairs. Ghosts, as one of the available forms of supernatural creatures, contribute to musical and choreographic variety and allow for visually and musically striking effects. They may enhance the audience’s identification with the protagonist by either threatening or encouraging him/ her, but they fascinate the audience simply by appearing. 9 For a fuller discussion of internal illusions, created by evil or by benevolent forces, in early French opera, see Jean-Philippe Grosperrin, “La glorieuse, la songeuse et les magiciens. Séductions de l’illusion dans la tragédie lyrique (1675-1710),” Littératures classiques, 44, 2002, pp. 114-39. Ghosts in Early French Opera 157 The notion of ambiance, or overall effect, should not be viewed as anachronistic. Racine insisted that the key to a successful tragedy is not a bloody conclusion, but rather a set of other criteria, especially “cette tristesse majestueuse qui fait tout le plaisir de la Tragédie.” 10 Analogous arguments have been made for other dramatic forms, as well. For example, it has been suggested that the primary unifying aspect of Molière’s comedies is not plot or character, but suffusion, the presentation of an abstract issue that is made concrete through a loosely-linked set of scenes. 11 Likewise, studies of pre-classical drama have noted the predominance of overall ambiance over plot and theme, especially in authors like Hardy. 12 It is thus reasonable to conclude that it is the impact of ghosts on the spectator’s overall reaction to the opera that gives those episodes their most important justification. 10 Jean Racine, Œuvres complètes, Vol. 1 (Théâtre - Poésie), ed. Georges Forestier (Paris: Gallimard [Bibliothèque de la Pléiade], 1999), p. 450. 11 W. G. Moore, Molière, A New Criticism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1949), pp. 78-84. 12 See, most notably, T. J. Reiss, Toward Dramatic Illusion: Theatrical Technique and Meaning from Hardy to Horace (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1971).