ACTA UNIVERSITATIS STOCKHOLMIENSIS

Stockholm Studies in Theatrical History i

Monodrama Attitudes *

Tableaux Vivants STUDIES ON SOME TRENDS OF THEATRICAL FASHION

1770-1815

by

KIRSTEN GRAM HOLMSTRÖM

ALMQVIST &WIKSELL

STOCKHOLM

MONODRAMA

ATTITUDES

TABLEAUX VIVANTS

ACTA UNIX ERS ΙΊ ATIS STOC Κ HOLM I Ε Ν S I S

Stockholm Studies in Theatrical History

I

MONODRAMA

ATTITUDES TABLEAUX VIVANTS

Studies on some trends

of theatrical fashion iyyo-i8i^

BY

K I R S T E N G R A M H O L M S T R Ö M

A L M C ^ V I S T & W I K S E L L

S T O C K H O L M

Printed in Sweden by

Almqvist & Wiksei Is Boktryckeri ΛΒ

Uppsala 1967

MONODRAMA ATTITUDES

TABLEAUX VIVANTS

Studies on some trends

of theatrical fashion iy/o — i8i^

Λ κ Λ1) Ε M I s κ Λ V H Λ Ν D I, I Ν G

som med tillstånd av Humanistiska Fakulteten

vid Stockholms Universitet

for iilosoiie doktorsgrads vinnande till offentlig granskning

framställes å Konsthistoriska institutionens föreläsningssal

onsdagen den 8 februari 1967 kl. 10

av

K I R S T E N G R A M H O L M S T R Ö M Fil. lic.

UPPSALA 1967

ALMQ\ ISr & WIKSELLS BOKT RYCKERI AB

T O

M Y P A R E N T S

A N D T H E M E M O R Y

O F

M Y H U S B A N D

F O R E W O R D

M V in te l es t in the theat r ic a l genre known as a t t i t iu les was l i r s t

a roused wl ien , as a yoiuig s tudent o t a r t h is tory in ( .open-

hagen, I was engaged a t Ihorvaldsens Miise inn. In the coinse

o l n iy work I had occas ion to look in to Ί horvaldsen 's connec ­

t ions wi th the Danish-Cierman authoress Freder ikke ßr t in and

her daughter Ida . Al though 1 a t once became in teres ted in

Ida Hrun 's a t t i tudes , I was not a t the t ime able to s tudy the

subjec t in de ta i l except in so ta r as i t concerned 1 horvaldsen 's

a r t . I here was then no chai r in the h is tory o t the theat re a t

the Univers i ty of (À)penhagen, and i t was not inUi l 1 came to

l i \e in Stocklu^lm af ter my marr iage tha t i t became poss ib le fc:>r

me to j ) in \sue s tudies wi th in tha t d isc ip l ine .

(Chancing one day to read Yrjö Hirn ' s essay on a t t i tudes and

shawl dances , 1 was s t imula ted to resume the s tudy of th is a r t

form, but now^ f rom the v iewpoint of theat r ica l h is tc^ry . 1 dis ­

covered tha t a t t i tudes , tha t s t range manifes ta t ion which en­

joyed a vogue in the aes thet ic l i te of the neoclass ica l j^er iod ,

appeared to be re la ted to two other genres which a lso s tood

outs ide the normal theat r ica l re j^er to i re of the day, namely

monoclrama and tableaux vixants . This impress ion was con­

f i rmed when I s tudied ( ioe the ' s s ta tements about h is produc­

t ion of Pr ( ) S ( ' r j ) i} ia .

Since none of the three genres had previous ly been the

oi ) jec t of research by theat r ica l l i i s tor ians , i t was my f i rs t task

to col lec t mater ia l on these a r t fonns in order to descr ibe and

analvse them wi th regard l^oth to the i r s ty l i s t ic charac ter is t ics

and to the ar t i s t ic : mi l ieux in wl i ich they oj^era ted . In deal ­

ing wi th the c jues t ion of mi l ieu 1 became conscious tha t the

terminology and methods of modern sociolc : )gy were scarce ly

a] )p l ica i ) le to th is ] )ar t ic idar task . On the o ther hand the

mater ia l led me to t ry to recapture the ar t i s t ic ambience which

d is t inguished the coter ies of a i i s tocra ts and in te l lec tuals who

indulged in these theat r ica l d ivers ions . 1 s ta r ted wi th the work­

ing Inpothes is tha t what 1 had to deal wi th was a t )p ica l

avant -garde movement . Al ter going through the mater ia l , how-

evei , I rea l ized tha t the term "avant-garde" would be mis­

leading in th is connect ion; lor , a l though each o l the three

ge ines has cer ta in fea tures tha t a re a lso to be iound in the

theat re o l romant ic ism, i t cannot be sa id tha t they ac t ive ly

in l luencecl the develoj^ment there to any noteworthy extent .

Dur ing the per iod covered by th is s tudy the connneic ia l theat re

occupied i t se l f , though in a less ex t reme way, wi th the same

problems tha t exerc ised the coter ies . Both the j ) tue ly profes­

s ional theat re and the exper imenta l theat re der ived the i r im­

pulses f rom the grea t reformers who had been ac t ive a t the

middle o l the iSth cent iny . Fc^r th is reason J have thot ig lu

i t des i rable to begin the present s tudy wi th an account of some

e lements in the ac t ing s ty le of the 1750s Avhich paved the way

for the three genres which ha \e been the subjec t of my re­

searches .

A ckno wledgem en t s

J t i s indeed a p leasant duty to express my sense of obl iga t ion

to a l l those who in d i i le rent ways have g iven me suppor t and

ass is tance d in ing the j ) repara t ion of th is work. 1 turn with

especia l gra t i tude to my teacher , Professor Cios ta M. Rergman,

λ\Ίκ) has pers i s tent ly encoinaged me to complete my researches

and has been generous in shar ing with me his great s tores

of knowledge.

Ίο Professor Agne P>ei je i , my f i r s t teacher in theatr ica l

h is tory, I am deeply gratef id for a l l the inspirat ion I have

der i\ecl I rom his teaching and f rom personal d iscuss ions wi th

him. J am also under a considerable debt of grat i tude to Pro-

lessor Torben Krogh, Cx)penhagen, lor much valuable informa ­

t ion and for h is imflagging in teres t .

Among the many I r iends and col leagues who have been so

ready to ass is t me in my work wi th s t imidat ing comments and

advice , I would make par t ic idar ment ion of Dr . Per Bjurs t rc im

and Air . l^engt Dahlbäck of the Xat ionalmuseinn, Stockholm,

Dr . Aiar t in Tegen, of the Univers i ty of S tockholm and Mr.

Svend C^hr is t iansen of the Univers i ty of CJopenhagen.

I t i s a l so a p leasure lor me to have the o j ) | )o i tuni ly to thank

inv teadiers in the h . i s to iy o l a r t , Protessor (Chr is t ian El l ing o l

( io j )enha^en and Prolessor Sten Kar l ing o l S tockholm. My

thanks are due , too , to my lormer chie ls a t 1 horvaldsens

Musetnn, (k) | )enhai>en, Mr . Sigincl Sclu i l t / and Prolessor Else

Rai Sass , io i the i r sus ta ined in teres t in my work.

The oi i i ( ia ls o l the Kungl iga Bibl io teket , S tockholm, and

Drot tn ingholms Teaterns Hibl io tek ha \e lac i l i ta ted my re­

searches in e \er \ j )oss i l ) le way. Outs ide Sweden, too , 1 have

lo inul leady ass is tance f rom the s ta l l s o l l ibrar ies and museinns .

I ma\ ment ion , in panic idar , Mr. Poid Nie lsen o l Det Konge­

l ige Bibl io tek , Copenhagen; Dr . Ci . Schr)ne and Dr . H. Vriessen

o l the Clara Ziegler S t i f tung, Mtmich; Dr . F . Hadamowsky and

Dr . Doubl ier o l the I 'hea ter Sammhnig , (ös ter re ichische Xat io-

nalb ib l io tek , X ' ienna; Dr . ( i . Hansen ol the I heatersammlung,

Cologne; Mme. Sylvie Cheval ley of the Bibl io thecjue de la

(À)mécl ie Française , Par is ; Monsie in Λ. \ 'e inste in of the Bibl io-

thecjue de l 'Arsenal . Par i s ; C>a |) ta in A. J . Pack of the "Victory"

Musetnn, Portsmouth; and Mr. A. H. Waite of the Nat ional

Mari t ime Mtise inn, (Treenwich.

For the personal interes t he has shown in the subject , for

va luable connnents and for luuler taking certa in inc juir ies in

England, 1 am grateful to Mr. Richard C^ox, who has t rans ­

la ted the work f rom the or ig inal Swedish .

I a l so v ish to thank Mrs . Mai Lindorm for her va luable

l ie lp in checking the Swedish manuscr i i ) t and Miss Monica

Ahlbohr for her ski l f id ass is tance in the prepara t ion of the

index.

Fhe ( iar l -Her te l Nathhois t Foimdat ion has generously sup-

jK)i tec l the publ ica t ion of th is work.

F nal lv , 1 acknowledge \v i th deej ) gra t i tude my indebtedness

to my parents for the i r never- fa i l ing in teres t and moral s t ip-

por t and to my son for h is cheerf td and uncomplain ing ac-

ce]) tance of the inroads in to normal rout ine tha t a re the in­

evi table concomitant of the p iepara t ion of a work of research .

C O N T E N T S

FOREWORD AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT η

CONTENTS 10

I. HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION II

The reformation of French tragic acting in the mid-eighteenth

century.

Declamatory style, 13. Dubos, 15. Pantomimic style; Voltaire

and his actors, 21. English pantomime, 25. Science an acting;

Clairon, Buflfon, Parsons, Lebrun, 27. Interest in geography and

ethnography, 32. Effect of music in tragedy, 33. Noverre, 35.

Diderot and Richardson, 39.

2. MONODRAMA

Rousseau's Pygmalion, 40. Benda-Brandes' Ariadne auf Naxos,

46. J. F. Göz's Lenardo und Blandine, 53. Goethe's Proserpina, 88.

3. ATTITUDES 110

Lady Hamilton, iio. Shawl dance, 140. Ida Brun, 145. Henri­ette Hendel-Schütz, 182.

4. TABLEAUX VIVANTS 209

Goethe's Wahlverwandtschaften and Neapohtan cribs, 209. A4me. de Genlis, 217. Favart, Greuze, Mme. Vigée-Lebrun, 218. Vien­nese vaudeville, 223. Entertainments at the court of Frederick William III of Prussia, 227. Goethe and Court ballet traditions,

231.

CONCLUSION 234

NOTES 243

BIBLIOGRAPHY 263

Printed books, 263. Manuscripts, 270.

INDEX 2 7 1

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 276

I.H I S T O R I C A L I N T R O D U C T I O N

The reformation of French tragic acting in the mid-eighteenth century

In i7() ( ) there was presented a t the Tl ica t re de lOpéra-Comi( |ue

in Par i s a vaude \ i l l e in one ac t by Favar t ca l led La Ressource

des Ti iédtrcs} an amusing piece poking inn a t the convent ions

of the contem})orary Par is ian theat re .

At the beginning of the play we find Crispin mounted on Pegasus flying to Parnassus, where he encounters the custodian of the place, the critic Aristarcjue. Oispin introduces himself, saying that he comes from the C)pera-C>)mi(jue. Aristarcpie expresses wonder that he should dare to come to Parnassus, whereupon Crispin assures him that it is chance and not conceit that has brought him there. He tells how he had just bought a fine ham garnished with bay-leaves when a winged monster suddenly appeared and stole the ham from him, ate u}) the bay-leaves, and revealed himself as Pegasus. Crispin mounted the winged horse and soon was on his way to Parnassus. Now that he is here, he says, he would like to take advantage of the situation to borrow Apollo's lyre for a while, for he is in great need of new plays. Aristarcjue cannot grant this wish, Init promises to help Crispin in another way by arranging for him to meet La Nouveauté. Instead, however, he meets L'Industrie, who informs him that Nouveauté is no longer on Parnassus, lor she has died oi old age; this, however, is of no consecjuence as she, L'Industrie, is now working for all the theatres. She can manage very well with an old theme, h)r everything depends on form; from a tragedy she can make a comedy or even a l)allet. riie conversation is interrupted by the arrival ol representa­tives from three other Parisian theatres, all on the same errand as Crispin. First comes Ampulas, the hero from the tragic stage, who states his wishes in bombastic declamatory style. L'Industrie is very willing to help him, for she has in stock a tragedy which is not yet (juite phiycd out. She gives Ampulas the following further advice

(in a song to the time of "Quand la mer"):

Mais pour mieux vous étayer.

Il faudra vous appuyer De la Pan, pan, pan. De la to, to, to,

De la mi, mi, mi,

l a pan. pan, La to, to, La nii, mi,

l)c la Pantonn'inc,

Q u i Miut b i e n l a r i n i c .

At this point there arrive Nar(()ti(pie from the opera and Pantalone ironi the Ί héâtre-Italien. Ί he newcomers get an e(pially j^enerous

reception and L'Industrie reconnnends all three to apply to the Queen

of Parnassus, La Folie, who has recently been to Italy in order to

seek help. No sooner have these words been said then La Folie tinns

up, with something lor everybody. Amj^ulas gets a collection ol

pantomime ballets, and Pantalone recei\es a whole wagon-load ol

debutants and debutantes, all ol whom are wonderful in pathetic

roles. Xarcoticpie is presented with an o})era buffa from Venice, a

gift Avhicli greatly u})sets (Crispin, for he woidd gladly have hail it

himself. He is more than consoled, however, when La Folie promises

to play all the principal roles at the Opéra-Clomicpie herself.

According to Fa\ar t h imsel f , th is l i t t le \a i ic levi l le -prologt ie

had but a modera te success . - Llowever th is may be , i t has mt ich

of in teres t for the present -day reader . In the form of sa t i re we

are in t roduced to a n i iml^er of new lea t ines in the French

theat re which in lybo must ha \e been es tabl is l ied and widely

d iscussed, fc : ) r o therwise they woidd not have f tnnished mater ia l

for a vai ide \ i l le . I wo e lements in ] )ar t ic idar a re he ld up to

r id icule . Ihe f i rs t i s the po\er ty of content of contemj)orary

j ) lays . Al l the dramat ic genres come f rom the same s ta l ) le ; they

d i f fer onh in fo in i , and hardly even in tha t . To be a i ) le to

s in \ ive a t a l l , the French opeia has to seek the a id of o j )era

b tdfa , the I ta l ians ha \e to j^ lay p ieces in the pathet ic s ty le . 1 he

second l ) i i t t i s French t ragedy. Ί his i s bor ing and long-winded;

to make i t pa latable the actors have to depend on pantomime,

taking the I ta l ian j )antomime bal le t as a model . Ihuloi ibtecl ly i t

i s ] ) recise ly the song about j )antomime that contains the t rue

point of Fa\ai t ' s l i t t le vaudevi l le . Here the author i s a iming at

one of the most character i s t ic features of the contemporary

theatr ica l wor ld. In his ]) lay i t i s re])resentecl as the v ictoiy of

the I ta l ian theatre ovei the French. Hut the real i ty was not so

s imple. In fact a very long and comj) l icated c levelo])ment la)

behind this achice to Ampidas to p lay t ragedy in pantomimic

s ty le in order to win the favotn of the ]) id) l ic ,

Ί he soin (C nia lc i ia l on i8 lh-(enlury ac t ing i s both a l)unchni l

and iasc inat ing, and t l ic j )er iod l ias ihere loie iecci\ed much

at tent ion Ironi thcat i ica l h is tor ians . I t i s a l ie lc l that has been

deal t wi th in a number ol books and art ic les o l \ery high

equal i ty .I t may therefore seem unnecessary, even presuinptuous,

to b inden this d isser tat ion with an his tor ica l introduct ion. Tor

this reason 1 have a imed not a t g iv ing a broad general survey

but only a t throwing some l ight on this epoch ol theatr ica l

h is tory i rom one part icular angle—that o l | )antomime, taking

the term in i t s wides t sense .

Al ter the revival o l the French theat re dur ing the l i i jos the

ru les o l c lass ica l rhe tor ic : lor "ac t io" were the ideal which was

se t u j ) lor the t ragic ac tor . Cornei l le cla ims tha t i t i s essent ia l

lor the ac tor to have a knowledge o l the lunclamenta l ru les o t

rhe tor ic , wi thout which, in h is o jMnion, no ac tor can por t ray

the emot ions in a proper manner .^ I he Abbé (VAubignac ex­

presses h imse l t in less concre te t e rms , bu t bo th I i i s Prat ique du

Théâtre and h is Froje t pour le ré tab l i s semeut du Théâtre Fran­

çais are permeated wi th the idea οί an ent i re ly new type of

actor : the cul t ivated ar t i s t who can subordinate himsel t to the

text and interpret i t s subt let ies in an adecjuate way. Actors

must abs ta in i rom the super f ic ia l b ravura of the eo inmediàute ,

even a t the r i sk of los ing the i r popular i ty among the less

sophis t ica ted members o l the i r audiences . '

Natura l ac t ion was indeed the ideal both lor e locut ion and

for the in terpre ters of c lass ica l t ragedy. Nei ther group meant by

na ture an imi ta t ion ol e \erycla) t r i \ ia l i t ies . in the i r \ iew i t

was ra ther the capaci ty to l i s ten to and la i th lu l ly re | ) roduce a

text , wi thout ar t i l ic ia l i ty but wi th technic a l sk i l l and a personal

involvement in the l iass ions be ing por t rayed. For th is purpose

the voice was the chief ins t rument , re inforced by the lac ia l

ex]) ress ion; the r ight hand pointed the rhythm, the le l t hand

provided the under tone , and the body was the sounding box.

A fasc inat ing and e \c)ca t i \e memoria l to the s ty le can be seen

in Wat teau 's Fes Couiédie j i s Français (Fig . i ) .

At the beginning o l the iSth century , ac t ing was s t i l l re ­

garded as a depar tment of rhe tor ic . Ί his v iew is represented in

France by J . -L . Gr imarcs t {Tra i té du réc i ta t i f , 1707) and in Eng­

land by Char les Gi ldon (The L i fe o f Mr . Thomas Be t ter ton ,

1710) . These books a im a l g lor i fy ing the grea t c lass ica l school

of ac t ing represented by Mol ière , Baron and C^hanipsmelé in

France , and by Bet ter ton in England. Ί hey at tempt to f ix in

words the act ing s ty le of these great ar t i s t s and they denoimce

the mannerism of their successors . But Grimarest and, even less ,

Gi ldon did not wr i te only wi th a v iew to conserving the achieve ­

ments of the pas t .

Both a t i thors res t the i r case on Quint i l ian ' s De ins t i tu t ione

orator ia and Gicero ' s De oratore . But they in terpre t these c las­

s ics a l i t t le more f ree ly than had been done before ; Gi ldon,

especia l ly , shows a c lear tendency to take an independent l ine .

Both Quint i l ian and Gicero use many examples f rom the ar t

of ac t ing and f rec juent ly w^arn the ora tor agains t cer ta in typica l

theat r ica l manner isms. Gr imares t and Gi ldon take the view tha t

a l iv ing in terpre ta t ion of a ro le cannot be kept too s t r ic t ly

wi th in the l imi ts se t by the theory of rhe tor ic for the ora tor .

An actor ' s chief task i s to g ive a t rue representa t ion of t l ie

pass ions wûth the a id of voice , ges tures and fac ia l express ion,

and he can only do th is i f he has a genuine involvement in what

he has to say . So far Gr imares t and Ci i ldon are in complete

agreement wi th Quint i l ian and C^icero . But an ac tor has to

} X ) r t ray d i f ferent charac ters , i f he is re j3resent ing an af fec ted

man he must use ges t ines and ways of s j^eaking which are

character is t ic of such a person, even i f he thereby offends

agains t the ru les of cura tory .

( i i ldon goes so far as to sugges t to the ac tor tha t he shoidd

s tudy his tory pa in t ing in order to f i t h imsel f to express the

pass ion th iough the var ious characters . Ί he act ion must speak

to t l ie eye. 1 his searching af ter a r icher pantomimic s ty le of

ac t ing in t ragedy can a l so be g l impsed in Stee le and Addison,

even though both these a iuhors were highly cr i t ica l of panto ­

mime as an independent genre . In the Tat ler (no . 115) Stee le

g ives a vi \ ' id account of the except ional sk i l l in d innbshow of

the al to cas trato Nicol in i ( iNicola ( i r imaldi ) . He acts wi th h is

whole body in such a way tha t even a deaf-mute could under­

s tand what he i s t ry ing to express . Addison wr i tes in the Spec­

ta tor (no . 13) tha t t ragic ac tors should go to Nicol in i to learn

how to use the i r a rms and legs and how to convey the pass ions

t lnoi igh iac ia l express ion.

In ( i r imares t we f ind only a f lee t ing indica t ion of the des i ra­

b i l i ty of an ac t ion which speaks to the eye . This does not , how­

ever , mean tha t the idea of a contac t be tween theat r ica l and

pic tor ia l a r t was a l together a l ien to French in te l lec tuals in the

ear ly i8 th cen tury . The cpies t ion was dea l t wi th by Anto ine

Coy pel in the lec t in es which he del ivered d in ing the per iod

1708-14 a t the Academie Royale de la Pein ture and which

were la ter p i in ted .^ ' He to ld h is audiences tha t anyone who

wanted tc:> per fec t h imsel f in pa in t ing must go to the theat re .

1 he painters and sculptors of ant ic ju i ty of ten chose the i r sub­

jec ts among actors , dancers and pantomime ar t i s t s , for these

people knew how to represent emot ions viv id ly by means of

ges t ines and movements . But , C^oypel poin ted out , the converse

is a l so t rue , as Lucian had sa id ; ac tors have much to learn f rom

great pa in ters .

In th is connect ion we must not forget the contemporary

Jesui t thea t re , the impor tance of which as an educator of publ ic

tas te i s now genera l ly recognized. Among i t s pupi ls can be

counted a number of fu ture dramat is ts and actors ." With regard

to ac t ing s ty le , the a im of th is theat re was to induce the pupi l -

ac tors to dedica te themselves to a natura l mode of ac t ing wi th in

the ru les of c lass ica l rhe tor ic . The s ty le of profess ional ac tors

was regarded as uncul t iva ted and based on a seeking a t ter

superf ic ia l ef fec t . But even wi th in the theat re of schools based

on c lass ica l cu l ture there can be seen a new fee l ing tha t the

jH 'escr ip t ions of ant ic |ue rhe tor ic were no longer suff ic ient .

Evidence of th is can be found in the handbook of Father

Frandsens Lang fo r t eacher - ins t ruc tors , Disscr ta t io de ae t ione

seeniea (Munich 1727) . Lang express ly recommends tha t the

pupi ls should be made to s tudy jx i in t ing and sculpture ; by

doing so they wi l l be hel})ed to accju i re an unconst ra ined and

aes thet ic pos ture and they wi l l a lso receive guidance for the i r

imaginat ion when reproducing the emot ions . · ' ^

Any account of a j )hase in 18th-century cul tura l l i fe should

cer ta in ly t ake as a s ta r t ing po in t the Abbé Dubos ' s Ré f lex ions

cr i t iques sur la poés ie e t sur la pe in ture; ' ^ l l i i s lasc inal ing book,

which X'okai ie ca l led the l ) re \ ia i \ o l the l i t terateurs , i s a l so

h ighly ie le \a iu to o in j ) resent subjec t . Kroi i i th is i t must not o l

course be suj )posecl tha t the rexival o t t ragic ac t ing which took

p lace in the ni ic lc l le o t the iSth century was d i rec t ly a t t r ibutable

to Dubos ' s aes thet ics . I t i s ra ther tha t the people who were

responsib le ior th is develoj^nient drew much ol the fac tual

bas is for the i r a rg innent i rom the Rej lex ious cr i t iques , ol ten

wi thout acknowledging the i r source . Dubos was not a g i f ted

wri ter ; he d id not ex | ) ress h is ideas in s t r ik ing maxims oi

br i l l iant syntheses . His s t rength lay ra ther in h is imic jue capa­

c i ty for independent , unpre judiced obser \a t ion combined wi th

grea t learning. He accinnula ted fac ts , and consecjuent ly in some

measure the book took on the charac ter of a reference work.

As we have seen, Quint i l ian was d i l igent l ) s tudied d in ing

the 17th cent in y , l )u t only for narrow tec hnica l p in poses . Li t t le

a t tent ion xvas pa id to the lo le xvhich Quint i l ian a l lo t ted to

feehng. I t was Dul)C3s ' s mer i t tha t he looked behind the Conven­

t ions of French c lass ic ism to f ind the t rue character of ant ic jue

theat r ica l a r t . In c jne p lace in h is book he says tha t i t i s

necessary to ha\ 'e a prac t ica l knowledge of the theat re of one ' s

own t ime i f one is to be a l ) le correc t ly to in terpre t the })assages

in ant icpie authors tha t deal wi th s tage ar t ; th is cannot be c lone

in the s tudy.Kspec ia l ly in h is younger c lays Dubos had l )een

a f rec juent v is i tor to the opera .He at tended rehearsa ls and

played a cer ta in par t behind the scenes , working on l ibre t t i and

even c()mjK)s ing a l i t t le ; in addi t ion he wrote some opera

cr i t ic ism. He produced a number of shor t monograj )hs which

c i rcula ted in manuscr ip t copies but unfor tunate ly ha \e been

los t . He took oj )era ser ious ly , regarding i l as a dramat ic genre

and not mere l ) an ar is tocra l ic pas t ime, i t i s noteworthy tha t

Dubos puts o j )e ia and a lso bal le t on the same plane as s j )oken

drama. This a t i i tude was in confoini i ty wi th the prevai l ing

s i tua t ion in the contemporary theat r ica l wor ld . Both wi th re­

gard to c jual i ty and to the suppor t lece ixed f rom the genera l

publ ic , o j )era and bal le t dominated a t the exj )ense of s j )oken

drama, above a l l t iagedy, and th is was t iue in England as wel l

as France .

I t i s Dubos ' s v iew that the arousal of emot ions is the pr in-

( ipa l a im οΓ a i l . Ί l ie soul has a specia l need to suHei ; only ar t

can g ive us a t rue emotional cathars i s and yet [^reserve us f rom

real d is t ress , i t i s lor this leason t l ia t t ragedy inl luences our

iee l ings more than comedy; a l thougl i i t i s remote f rom oin · da i ly

exis tence i t provokes more v io lent Iee l ings and causes the tears

to How wi thout making us rea l ly depressed. But th is i s only so

i l t ragedy is j )e r iormed a t the theat re or , i t rec i ted in ] ) r iva te ,

has a l ready been seen by us on the s tage . The power exerc ised

by the e)e over our senses i s s t ronger than tha t of the ear , says

Dubos , refer r ing to Quint i l ian , who places j ja in t ing on a j )ar

wi th rheto i ic . Elsewhere in the book Dubos , refer r ing to (Ci­

cero ' s I )c oralorc , te l l s us tha t the e locjuence of the l )ocly

convinces jus t as nuich as words ; the ges tures he lp to projec t

the words . Each pass ion has been endowed by nature wi th i t s

own pecidiar ges t ine , i t s specia l fac ia l ex})ress ion and vocal

p i tch .^-

Dubos re jec ts the opinion, common in h is own t ime, tha t

modern opera re j^resented a rebi r th of ant icpie t ragedy. He

wri tes tha t ant ic |ue declamat ion was not s inging in oin^ meaning

of the word b tu resembled the French t ragic s ty le , a har­

monical ly ra ised , s t rongly rhythmecl speech d is t inc t f rom the

declamat ion of comedy. Dubos bel ieved tha t he coidcl prove

tha t the declamat ion of ant ic ju i ty was composed by specia l i s t s .

Jn h is a rgument he associa tes h imsel f wi th Quint i l ian , c juot ing

among other th ings the passage where Quint i l ian says tha t i t i s

r ight for even the ora tor , in par t ic idar ly pa thet ic passages , to

change to a chant ing k ind of d ic t ion , something between s j^eech

and song. Dubos makes the proposal tha t modern declamat ion,

too , should be based on musica l nota t ion . In tha t way i t wi l l be

poss ib le to a t ta in a more uni form s ty le l )y he lp ing the imcer ta in

ac tor wi thout thereby l imi t ing the ar t i s t ic f reedom of the more

g i f ted j )er formei . For Dubos th is v iew of declamat ion was not

so much an a t teni jH to conserve a br i l l iant j )as t re j ) i ' esentec l by

Racine , Baron and (Champsmele as an outcome of h is C3wn

nuis ica l i ty and his love of opera . He was ext remely sens i t ive to

the emot ional c jual i t ies of music . In h is book he s ta tes h is

be l ief tha t even in modern t imes i t i s poss ib le to mix s inging

and declamat ion in the same way as was done in ant ic ju i ty ,

when the chorus sang and the ac tors rec i ted . In th is connect ion

- 663206 H o l m s t r ö m 17

he jK)i iUs to Racine ' s Esther and Athal ic and lo ihe Psyché

οί Cornei l le and Molière . Me does not , ho\ve\er , develop i in ther

the theme of nuis ic as an in tegra l par t o l spoken drama. I b is

problem, l ike so much e lse in h is book, was not to become the

objec t o l debate and exi )er iment i in t i l the middle o t the

c en t in y .

Ol ' even grea ter impor tance were Di ibos ' s s tudies o l the

"sa l ta t io" and j )antomime ol ant ic j i i i ty . Hy sal ta t io , Dubos

wri tes , t l ie ancients meant not only what we ca l l ba l le t but

a lso " l ' a r t d i i ges te" . I t people nowadays unders tood th is they

wotdcl not be so surpr ised as they are a t Ar is to t le ' s s ta tement

tha t the ( i reek chorus j )er tc) rmecl sal ta t io at the most ser ious

j^ar ts of the t ragedies . Dubos emphasizes tha t the ie a ie two di f ­

ferent k inds of ges t ines : "ges tes na t ine ls" and "ges tes ar t i f i ­

c ie ls" . Ihe f i rs t type accompanies the s j )eech and we can

se ldom unders tand i t s s igni f icance wi thout the s})eech; i t i s wi th

these accompanying ges t tnes tha t we exj ) ress the emot ions . Ai t i -

f ic ia l ges t tnes l iave a def in i te s igni f icance of the i r own and are

independent of the speech.Jus t as Dubos proposes tha t de­

c lamat ion shotdd be recorded in nota t ion , so a lso he is eager to

inves t iga te the poss ib i l i ty of embodying ges t ic ida t ion in a wri t ­

ten form; he wotdd l ike to see "dic t ionnai res des ges tes" . Much

la ter , in ( ie rmany, th is dream was to be rea l ized through the

ef for ts of Less ing. Dubos does not g ixe any deta i led indica­

t ions as to how the d i rec t ions for pos t ine , ges t tnes and fac ia l

express ion a ie to be formidatec l . He bel ieves , as has been sa id

above, tha t each pass ion has i t s own specia l , physica l expres­

s ion , bes towed on i t by na t tue . Hut he goes fur ther than Des­

car tes—and Lebrun—when he emphasizes tha t d i f ferent nuances

are g iven to each emot ion by d i f ferences in age , na t ional i ty and

temperament , sex and socia l pos i t ion . 1 hese nuances cannot be

rendered by the author in words ; i t i s only on the s tage , in the

d innbshow, tha t they can be g iven f td l express ion.Dubos does

not recommend actors to s tudy pic tor ia l a r t in order to a ( C | u i re

a re j )er tory o l beaut i f id and express ive ges t ines , l )ecause i ie

cons iders tha t ac t ing far s inpasses p ic tor ia l a r t in th is respect .

Ί his i s perhaps mainly I jecause Dul)os at tac hes so much im ­

por tance to emot ion being fe l t by the ac tor h imsel f . Inner

fee l ing , ident i f ica t ion wi th the i )ar t , wi l l re lease the ac tor ' s

natura l powers o l ex | ) rcss ion in a way ihaL s luc l ics cannot , in

Duhos ' s opinion, succeed in doing.

As has a l ready been ment ioned, Dubos knew wel l enough

tha t the ba l le t o l h i s own t ime bore no s imi la r i ty to the sa l ta t io

oi ant ic j i i i t ) . ßut , evei eager to i inc l modem para l le ls ior the

theat r ica l ] ) rac t ice o l ant ic ju i ty , he manages to c i te an except ion

e \en heie . I t had , he te l l s us , been poss ib le to see on a French

s tage a chorus which imi ta ted the choruses o i ant ic jue t ragedy,

l ie is re fer r ing to the bal le ts wi thout dance s te | ) s in the ordi ­

nary sense which Lidly had put in to Psychc, Alccs ic , Atys and

Is is . This " jeu muet" had been ar ranged by a specia l dancing

master , ( ) l i \e t , us ing \e ry yoimg dancers .^" ' Dubos th inks tha t

Lul ly had c ler i \ed the inspi ra t ion ior th is f rom in tu i t ion , not

f rom s tudy . For h i s par t he welcomes th i s moden; sa l ta t io ,

whic h is not a mere mec hanic a l leg exerc ise but a p lanned ser ies

of express i \e ges tures and a t t i tudes which fo l low the emot ions .

I t i s therefore not s tn pr is ing tha t Dtdjos shoidcl a lso devote

much space and grea t learning to ant icpie pantominre . He is

fasc inated by th is genre , as descr ibed by the Roman authors :

the e locj t ient eyes and hands and the express ive bodi ly move­

ments . He saw in i t an ar t form which had a d i rec t ef fec t on

the emot ions . Dubos therefore makes a {) lea for the revival of

ant ic jue pantomime. He wri tes tha t a l l those who f recpient the

(À)mécl ie I ta l ienne shoidd imders tand tha t i t i s c ju i te poss ib le

to j ) lay a number of scenes wi thout speaking. He refers a lso to

the F ' j ig l i sh pantomime t roupes which i t has been poss ib le to

see in Par is . He is concerned in par t icular wi th the comj^any

which \ i s i tec l Par is in 172c) and ly^^o, which could count among

i t s p layeis Mile . Sal lc^ .^ ' · Of the t roupe 's maître de bal le t , Roger ,

Dubos wri tes tha t even though he d id not open his mouth i t

was easy to unders tand what he in tended to say . But Dubos

shows even more in teres t in a c ju i te de l ibera te a t teni jH to

resusci ta te pantomime, which he had been able to s tudy a t the

c l ia teau of the Duchesse de Maine a t Sceaux in 171-J . Here two

young a l t i s tes f rom the o | )era ba l le t presented the las t ac t of

(k) rnei l le ' s Horace in pantomime to the accomjianiment of

ins t rumenta l music . Ih is music had been composed for the

occas ion by a M. Mouret , and i t fo l lowed the text in such a

way tha t i t would have been poss ib le to s ing the words to i t .

Gösta λί . Bergman has pointed out that this exper iment was

not a l together unique. 1 he creators of the market-phice thea ­

t res ' pièces à cr i tenu χ were not aHen to the idea that they too

were working lor the reviva l of ant ique pantomime.Dubos

proposes that , i f pantomime troupes should be formed in Par is ,

they would be wel l advised to begin by present ing scenes f rom

Le Cid and other wel l-known plays . I t i s t rag ic pantomime that

he wants to see rev ived.

Was Dubos one of the great re formers of the theatre? The

answer must be that he was not . He considered the French

t ragic s ty le of h is t ime to represent an ar t i s t ic apotheosis both

with regard to declamation and gest iculat ion and the splendid

and fanci ful costumes " imaginés à p la is i r" . His censure is

reserved for the exaggera ted use of make-up, which made i t

imposs ib le for the ac tors to convey the pass ions through the i r

fac ia l express ion. Never theless Dt ibos d i f fers markedly f rom, for

example , Gr imares t and Gi ldon, who a l though they wanted

minor reforms in the s ty le of ac t ing w^re f i rmly wedded to the

17th-century concept ion of the ar t . For these wTi ters the most

essent ia l th ing was the ac tor ' s abi l i ty to in terpre t the text fa i th-

f id ly . The j^rescr i j^ t ions of c lass ica l rhe tor ic for "ac t io" were

the mir ror which the ac tor should use in order to correc t h im­

sel f . In case of need he should s tudy pic tor ia l a r t to enable h im

bet ter to graduate the d i f ferent emot ions through his fac ia l

express ion. But these advocates of the s t r ic t dec lamatory s ty le

forgot—or d id not choose to see—that the new reper to i re was

poor in texts su i table for such ac t ing . AVith some s impl i f ica t ion

i t can be sa id tha t for Dubos the text of a p lay Avas jus t so much

raw mater ia l for the presenta t ion of s t rong emot ions . He pre­

fer red t ragedy because i t was r iches t in d is turbing emot ions ,

r io t because i t had a l i igher l i te rary value . As we l iave seen,

Dubos too read ( )u in t i l ian and (Cicero wi th minute a t tent ion ,

but he d id so in a new way. In h is wr i t ings he exaggera tes the

impor tance which these authors a t tach to fee l ing . Both Quin-

t i l ian and (J icero warn the ora tor agains t var ious a i t i s t ic s t rokes

which were character is t ic of the ac t ion of performers in the

ant ic jue theat re . Dubos does not ca tegor ica l ly re jec t these devi ­

ces , such as for example the s inging s ty le of dechunat ion . But

he di f fers f rom both the theore t ic ians and the ] ) rac t i s ing ar t i s t s

of I i i s l ime a l ) ( ) \c a l l by v i r tue of h is wl io l ly unpre judiced view

of the d i f ferent genres . Ί he actors of the Comédie Française

and the i r l i ighsh col leagues na t ina l ly detes ted opera , panto­

mime and I ta l ian ac tors , for these were now thei r most danger­

ous ( ( )m])e l i tors . The theore t ic ians , who mainly regarded the

theat re as a l i te rary phenomenon, h imented the decadence of

t ragedy and sought to keep a l ive the o ld s ty le of ac t ing so tha t

the c lass ica l re j je r to i re could be p layed in the way which they

considered to be the only one poss i l ) le . Dubos was no revolu­

t ionary; b iu the reformers of the next genera t ion found useful

suppor t in h is book because of h is open-mindedness in the face

of novel developments and his ca})aci ty to re la te a l l new th ings

to ant ic ju i ty , which he had s tudied wi th grea t e rudi t ion and

ser \ed in a way tha t d id h im honoin .

W'a t teau ' s p ic t ine Les Cojnédicns f rançais (Fig . i ) admirably

i l lus t ra tes not only the s ty le of t ragic ac t ing dur ing the f i rs t

decades of the i8 th century but a lso i t s genera l s i tua t ion in t l ie

theat re . An I ta l ian ac tor is about to enter the s tage , but the

hero and heroine cont inue the i r ac t ing imdis t inbed. Most

people looked wi th concern on th is threa tened in t rus ion in to

the wel l - rounded, ceremonia l t ragic conversa t ion . Dubos ob­

served i t wi thout d ismay.

A compar ison between W'at teau ' s pa in t ing and one of Foëch-

W'hi rsker ' s gouaches of the lyGos (Fig . 2) g ives an idea of the

far - reaching change in ac t ing s ty le which took place a t the

(À)mé 'd ie Française in the middle of the 18th cent iny . In Wat-

teau ' s can\as the ac tor ' s body is l ike a r ichly decora ted j )edes ta l

f rom which the contro l led movements of a rms and head are

made; the la ter p ic ture , on the o ther hand, shows us ac tors

who use the whole body in movements so v io lent tha t they are

t ransmit ted to the s t i l l ra ther s t i f f cos t imie ; the movements of

the arms and head are emphat ic and a Ht t le angidar , the fac ia l

express ion is correspondingly e locpient .

1 he vic tory of th is new })antomimic s ty le was due to the

t r iad Dumesni l , Cla i ion and Lekain . I t conc |uered the theat re-

going ] )ubl ic f rom the very f i rs t occas ion on which i t w^as

presented . I h is was a t the (Comédie Française in 1743, when

Fig. I . Watteau, "Les Comédiens Français". C. 1716.

Mlle . Di i inesni l }) laye( l the na ine par t in V^ol ta i ie ' s Méropc . 1 lie

ac t ress had been schooled in the j )ar t by Vol ta i re h in ise l l . ( ) t

he r in te rpre ta t ion he wr i tes as fo l lows in h i s Appel à tou tes les

na t ions , des d ivers ehdngenie i i t s arr ixx ' s à Var t t rag ique ( i7 ( ) i ) :^ ' ' ^

Les pièces devaient être composc'es de longs récits : c'étaient de belles conversations plutôt (ju'une action. (Uiacjue comédien voulait briller par un long monologue; ils rebutaient une pièce (|ui n'en avait point: il fallut (jue (k)rneille, dans Cinna, dél)utât j)ar l'inutile monologue d'Émilie, cpi'on retranche aujourd'hui.

(]ette forme, (jui excluait toute action théâtrale, excluait aussi ces grandes expressions des passions, ces tableaux ha])pants des infortunes humaines, ces traits terribles et j^erçants cjui arraclient le caur; on le toucliait, et il fallait le déchirer, l.a déclamation, cjui fut, juscju'à

Lecouvreur, un récitatif mesuré, un chant })resc|ue noté, mettait encore un obstacle à ces emportements de la nature cjui se peignent })ar un mot, par une attitude, })ar un silence, par un cri cpii échappe à la douleur.

Nous ne commençâmes à connaître ces traits cpie par Dumesnil, lorscpie, dans Aîëropc, les yeux égarés, la voix entrecouj)ée, levant une main tremblante, elle allait immoler son proj)re fils: cjuand Narbas

Fig. 2. Lekain and Mme. \>stris in Voltaire's S emir amis. After a gouache by Foech-Whirsker. C. 1660.

l'arrêta, (jiiand. laissant tomber son poignard, on la vit s'évanoiiir entre les bras de ses fennnes, et (ju'elle sortit de cet état de mort avec les transports d'une mère; lorscjue ensuite s'élançant aux yeux de Polyphonte, traversant en ini clin d'œil tout le théâtre, les larmes dans les yeux, la pâleur sur le iront, les sanglots à la bouche, les bras étendus, elle s'écria : « Barbare, il est mon iils! » Nous avons vu Baron; il était noble et décent, mais c'était tout. Lecouvreur a\ait les grâces, la justesse, la sinn)licité, la vérité, la bienséance; mais pour le grand pathéticjue de l'action, nous le \îmes la première fois dans M"·' Dumesnil.

11ère , ahead) , vve see presented a i l the character is t ic : e lements

of the new express ionis t ic s ty le . F ive years la ter Mile . Diui iesni l

p layed the second most s i iccessf id par t of her career , Seni i rani is

in V^ol ta i re ' s t ragedy of tha t name. In t l ie preface to the Pai i s

ed i t ion (1750) the anthor te l l s of the t remendons imj j ress ion

the ac t ress achieved when in the f i f th ac t the dying Semiramis

sank on the s teps leading to Nini is ' s grave wdi i le dec la iming

wi th a weak, ] ) ioken \o ice . λ\ hen the J^lay was revived in 1756

Arzace-Ninias was p layed by Lekain. He created a ])athet ic

pantomimic pict ine in the f i f th act when l ie had to emerge

f rom Ninus ' s grave "wi th b loody sword" , as Vol ta i re had

di rec ted . Bt i t Lekain d id not content h in ise l i wi th th is ; he rose

f rom the grave wi th bare b lood-s ta ined arms and dishevel led

ha i r , to the accompaniment of th i inder and l ightning. This

tablea t i , says Previ l le ,^ ·^ las ted severa l mini i tes and a lways

powerful ly af fec ted t l ie andience . Ί here has a l so been preserved

to l i s a p icture of Mile . Cla iron which i l lus t rates the character

of th is pathos-charged pantomimic act ion. Of her Electre, Vol ­

ta i re wr i tes ( in the preface to Les Scythes , 1760) : * 'λ\Ίιο, before

Mile . Cla iron, would have ventured in Gres te to p lay the scene

with the urn as she played i t? Who would have been able to

paint nature thus, to s ink swooning to the ground, wi th the

urn in one hand whi le the other fe l l l i fe less?"

I t i s general ly accepted that Vol ta i re p layed a decis ive part

in the develo})ment of the new picturesque t ragic s ty le . His

p lays are based on s t r ik ing s i tuat ions rather than on subt le

psychological analys i s . His parts have to be presented by the

actors wi th a r ich accompaniment of voice ef fects , ges tures and

facia l express ions in order to g ive the i l lus ion of l i fe .

Vol ta i re considered that wi th Mérope he had recrea ted pure

Greek t ragedy. Mile . Dumesnirs in terpre ta t ion of the t i t le ro le ,

inspi red by Vol ta i re , s tands out as a radica l break wi th the

t radi t ional French t ragic ac t ion . But i t was not evolved in an

a t tempt to secure l ibera t ion f rom ant iqui ty . On the contrary ,

i t was whol ly in agreement wi th the new concept ion of an t ique

ac t ing s ty le as launched by Dubos . in addi t ion there were , of

course , the impulses Vol ta i re had receixed through I i i s contac t

wi th the theat re in England. In th is respect , a lso , Dubos had

been his predecessor . He had wri t ten tha t , i f the Engl ish theat re

was over loaded wi th spectacular ef fec ts , on the French s tage

there were too few. He i l lus t ra ted th is wi th an example f rom

Racine ' s /h idrotnacjue . The scene where Andromacjue is de ter ­

mined to take her own l i fe and ent rus ts Ast ianax to her con­

f idante would , Dubos wrote , ga in by taking place in the pres­

ence of the chi ld . -^^

But Mile . Dumesni l , who was to p lay in the new manner , and

the j3ubl ic , whidi was to be persuaded to accept i t , w^re cer­

ta in ly not par t icular ly in teres ted e i ther in the ] )h i lo logica l

as j )ec ts of ant i ( |ue ac t ing or in the manner of p laying t ragedy

in England. One is the ie io ie dr iven to ask how i t came about

tha t in the year 1743 th is new s ty le was la i inched wi th such

success , rhe answer to th is c jues t ion must be sought in the

c i rcumstances of the Par is ian theat re a t tha t chi te .

( ios ta M. Bergman has pointed out the mania ior pantomime

—an enthus iasm j j revious ly not observed by researchers—which

bese t Par is d in ing the years 1740-50. -^ Here Knghsh in lh ience

was manifes ted for the f i rs t t ime outs ide Htera ture in the

pantomime t roupes which phiyed a t the to i re St . ( iCrmain and

t l ie Foi re St . Laurent . At the Theat re I taHen, too , pantomime

bal le ts were f rec |uent ly j ) layecl ; François Riccoboni , ior exam­

ple , was ac t ive in th is genre . The ar t i s t s who composed these

pantomimes were f id ly aware tha t they were resusci ta t ing ant ic jue

pantomime. There were even e lucidatory pamphle ts publ ished

on the subjec t ; Bergman ment ions , for ins tance , a publ ica t ion

f rom 1739. One of the crea tors of the Engl ish pantomime, John

Weaver , had himsel f provided an example of such informat ive

ac t iv i tv wi th h i s book The His tory o f the λ ί t i t l e s and Pai i to-

mi i t ies , in which he refers to Gi ldon's book on Better ton and

says that ( i i ldon's ru les should be s tudied both by pantomime

players and l :)y actc :)rs and dancers .-- As la te as 175^ ' when

pantomime no longer had the charm c:)f novel ty, a pam})hlet

on the ar t was })ul3 l i shed in Par is by Boulenger de Rivery.- ·^

The author says tha t he would l ike to see es tabl ished in Par is

a theat re specia l ly devoted to pantc : )mime bal le ts , for i t woidcl

surpass a l l o ther theat res i f only because of i t s novel ty . He te l l s

us tha t h is work is based on the researches made by Engl ishmen

and Germans in to the subjec t . (Cer ta in passages a re c juoted

verba t im f rom a German monograph by C. S. (Te iss ie r , Abhmid-

l in ig x 'o t i ( l eu Pai i lo i t i i t t i e t i , h i s tor i sch i i t id cr i t i sch ausge führ t

(Hambing 1749) · Geiss ler in h is t in η accjuired his knowledge

f iom the same ear l ier monographs and sources that w^ere the

bas i s of Dubos ' s researches . Cie iss ler ' s intent ion in wr i t ing his

monograph was to g ive an his tc :)r ica l perspect ive of the bal le t

pantomimes which w-ere be ing | ) resented by Nicol ini s t roupe

of chi ld actors .

Against this background i t i s eas ier to unders tand the impact

of the new tragic act ion. But the inf luence of pantomime is not

conf ined to indiv idual act ing s ty le . Pantomime in the lorm in

wlîidi i t (oulcl l )c seen in Paris was—as ßeroinai i loo points out

—int imately connected with spectacular effects in scenery and

product ion. In this respect , a lso, Voltai re fol lowed the fashion

of the clay, ahhouoh not withoiu reservat ions. His ideas on this

c jues t ion a ie c le \ ' e lopec l in h i s Disscr td t io j i sur la t ragédie (u i -

( icufic (Ί f f iodcr j ic, which was dedicated to (Cardinal Ouir ini

and pr inted as a pre face to the Par i s ed i t ion (1750) o f Scfn i-

ratnis . When that t ragedy was f i rs t })erforniecl in i74(S, though

the t i t le role was a great })ersonal success for Mile. Dtnnesni l ,

the piece as a wl iole was a ia i l ine. V^oltaire complains that the

actors had to p ick the i r way th iough the harr ier o f pe t i t s -

maitrcs who were choking up the stage. Spectators should be

banished from the stage, he writes; then i t wi l l be possible to

use a more cl i\ers i f iecl and stately decor and to have a more

f lexible cl i recton. As we knoAv, he had to wait ini t i l 1759 be ­

fore " les bancjuet tes" were abol ished. But we shoidd not ima­

gine from this that X'ol ta i re wanted to have a luxinious set t ing

of the same kind as was used in the pantomime performances.

He exj)ressly te l ls us that the spec tac tdar must be an integral

par t of the j^lay and not a pueri le scene-painter ' s t r ick. What

he mainly had in mind when speaking of a s ta te ly decor and

pict inescjue groupings was the ctdt scenes in the great operas .

He was a devoted admirer of Quinaidt and Metastasio, a l ­

though he cr i t ic ized the ar ias which inteirupt the act ion; ap­

parent ly he had no appreciat ion of their f tmct ion in depict ing

emotion. I jnot ions, he thought , should be expressed through

declamation, pantomimic act ion and a pict inescjue decor which

spoke to the feel ings and the imaginat ion. In Olympic (17^)1)

he cleveloj js th is opera s tyle . In thus bel ieving that opera can

piovicle impidses for the spoken drama, Dubos was as we have

seen \ 'o l ta i ie ' s predecessor , a l though onh as legards the act ion

i tself , for Dubos did not concern hinrself wi th scenogra])hic

( juest ions.

I ha\e s j )C)ken of " the t r iad Dumesni l , (dairon and Lekain".

I hc exj)ression is just , in so far as i t was due to these three

great a i l is ts that \^ol ta i i e ' s dramatic: work was fa \oinably re-

cei \ecl by a spoi l t j )ubl ic . I t is a lso t rue that a l l three used an

expressive pantonn 'mic s tyle , above al l by present ing isolated

s i tuat ions in s t r iking, pict inescjue tableaux. Moreover , they al l

2Ö

ΙκκΙ ihc ;Kl\antai>e οί worki i i i^ wi l l i V 'ol lairc when picparing

their lolcs . l>i i t c\(c | ) l in ihcse icspcds wc cannot grouj) these

i lnee under one headin, · ; . Mlle . Duniesni l had her per iod οί

greatest suicess during the i/ jos, a l te i \vhi(h she Avas oxer-

shadowed 1)\ Mlle. (Jairon and Lekain. She \vas ahvays re ­

garded as unsurjxissable in her special ty , " les mères t ragicpies" ,

and she \vas s t i l l able to play the par ts which had brought l ier

lame to such el iect that her audiences were mc)\ecl to tears .

X'ol ta i re , too, cont inued to s | )eak οί her with grat i tude but he

no longer wrote major roles special ly lor hei . l ier act ing was

too unexen, she s j)ent hersel i on the emotional ly charged pas ­

sages with which she could ident i ly hersel i ; in between she Avas

weak, ia l l ing back on outmoded rout ine act ing "de la machine

à Cornei l le" . Aiter 1 7 5 0 such rel iance on the inspirat ion οί the

moment was considered inadecjuate. I he luture l)elc)nged to

the rei lect ive t\pe οί ac tor who could analyse his parts in evet y

detai l .

So iar we have pointed to three cl i i ierent e lements in the

theatr ical world οί the ly jos as essential to the emergence of

the new style οί tragic act ing. In the i i rs t place there was post-

class ical t ragedy, above al l X'oltaire ' s plays, Avhich gave great

sco])e lor incle})endent part icipat ion by the actors in inter ­

pret ing the role . Secondly, there xvas the emerging new classi­

c ism which, by searching behind 17th -century classicism to l ind

the or iginal ant ic jue lorm, revealed new aspects ol the ancient

theatre . Above al l , the researchers were s t ruck by the musical

e lement in ant ic jue t ragedy and by the great importance ol

gestures and movements in the act ing οί the ancients . One result

οί a l l this s tudy was an enhanced aj) j)rec iat ion οί Roman pan ­

tomime. What had previously been regarded as a mere curiosi ty

ior phi lologis ts was now seen as something worth put t ing into

pract ice . I hircl ly , there was the current theatr ical s i tuat ion:

opera bal le t and pantomime periormances at t racted a greater

publ ic than did the spoken drama. To these three elements a

iur ther clexelopment οί great importance must be added. I

re ier to the newly awakened interest in science, which as we

shal l see also made i tsel i ie l t in the theatre.

I 'he major part οί the credit ior the great reiormation οί

act ing style has been taken by Mile, (dairon. In this she was, as

is wel l known, inspired by Marmontel , who in his memoirs and

in the a r t i c les "Déc lamat ion" and "Decora t ion" in the Ency-

( lopcdic descr ibed how the famous actress worked to evolve

her new style . She abandoned em])hat ic reci ta t ion in lavotu '

ol a subdued coinersat ional declamation, she eschewed the t radi­

t ional majest ic s tyle of t ragedy cost ini ie , t rying to give her

clothes a local colotn" s t i i ted to the play. She used pantomimic

act ion but she did not act with " le diable au corps" . Each

gest tue and movement , each change of countenance was care-

f tdly planned in advance. All contemporary witnesses have

par t ic tdar j^raise for her remarkable abi l i ty to ref lect every

shade of emotion l^y means of her facial expression. A\ 'e must

now ask how Mile . Clairon did this . The cjuest ion can best

be answered in her own words. After re t i r ing from act ive

theatr ical work Mile . C^lairon wrote her memoirs , in which she

put forward her ideas on the ar t of act ing.-^ In her book she

cr i t ic izes—just as Dubos had done before her—the exaggerated

t ise of make-up:- · '»

SUR LE BLANC

L'usage du blanc est aujourd 'hui prescjue général sur tous les théâtres . C^let éc la t emprunté dont personne n 'es t la dupe, e t contre lecjuel tous les gens de goût murnuirent , grossi t e t jauni t la peau, é te int e t cercle les yeux, absorbe la physionomie, fa i t d isparaî t re la précieuse mobil i té des muscles , e t met cont inuel lement ce ( |u 'on entend en contradict ion avec ce ( ju 'on voi t .

l 'a imerais autant ramener l 'usage des masi jues des anciens; on y gagnerai t au moins, pour l 'é tude de sa dict ion, le temps ( ju 'on perd à se fa i re un visage. La terreur , la suffocat ion de la rage, les éclats de la colère , les cr is du désespoir peuvent- i ls s 'accorder avec un visage plâtré , sur lecjuel r ien ne se peut peindre?

Tous les mouvemens de l 'âme doivent se l i re sur la physionomie : des nuiscles ( jui se tendent , des veines ( jui se gonflent , une peau (pu ' rougi t , prouvent une émotion intér ieure , sans L'Kjuel le i l n 'es t jamais de grand ta lent . I l n 'es t point de rôle (pi i n 'a i t des jeux de visage de la plus grande importance : bien écouter , montrer par les mouvemens du visage (pie l 'âme s 'émeut de ce cpi 'on entend, de ce cpi 'on di t , es t un ta lent aussi précieux cjue celui de bien dire .

("est par la physionomie seule ( ju 'on j )eut f ixer la différence de l ' i ronie au pers i f lage.

Des sons plus ou moins étouffés , p lus ou moins t remhlans, ne suf­f isent j )as pour exprimer te l ou tel sent iment de terreur , te l ou te l sent iment de crainte; la physionomie seule peut en manjuer le degré.

W'lici i la le i on she s innniar i /es l l ie c l i i lcreiU ki iuls ol knowl­

edge an actor must acxjuire , she expressly ment ions the sub­

ject o l facial anatomy and recommends the aspir ing per iormer

to read the sec t ion on man in Rut ion ' s His to i re na iurc l lc ,

where the movements ot the iace muscles are descr ibed in great

detai l . -^ · ' ßui ion states that his accoini t is based on an ar t ic le by

an Engl i sh j )hys ic ian , James Parsons , publ i shed in Phi losophica l

Transac t io f i s 1747 .^"

Parsoirs ' ar t ic le is a pioneer work. In the introduct ion he

wri tes as iol lows oi his special subject , the s tudy ol the coini-

tenance:

Ί Ii is Subject has been haiul lccl by a great Number ol Authors, not

one of wl ioni, that I know of, has pursued the IMan upon which J

proceed; that is , what regards the proper Actions of the Muscles of

the Face, and their part icular Obedience to the Inl luence ol the

Mind.

in the passage which fol lows, Parsons attacks Charles Lebrtui :

Had a certain great Man been learned in t l i i s Part of Anatomy, he would have made fewer [representat ions] serve his Purpose, and not

a l low'd di f ferent Motions to di f lere î i t Par ts ol the Occipi to-Frontal is a t the same t ime; nor ha\e made the Wrinkles ol the Forehead longi tudinal , which should have l )een t ransverse or horizontal , by the Act ion of this Muscle . . . for the Act ions of the C^ountenance a lone wil l be suff ic ient to express the Passions, s ince i ts Muscles are

the sole Agents .

Accordingly, Parsons wri tes , he himself has taken as his demon­

strat ion object the same cotuUenance in the same posi t ion. Be­

fore })roceeding to his main theme he iss t ies a warning:

1 hope i t wil l ap})ear , that no Analogy can be drawn from Brutes , no Signs f rom the Voice, nor general Shape ol the Face, or any ol i ts Par ts ; in a Word, nothing but the Act ions ol the Muscles , become habi tual in Obedience to the reigning 1 empers of the Mind, can in anv wise account lor them; and the Art ol Pi iysiognomy, especial ly the Metoj)osc()py, or what re la tes to the Face, nuis t prove \ery inuertain without this Foundat ion.

Al ter s ta t ing this pr inciple , Parsons takes the passions one by

one, Irs ing i lhrs t ra t ions with accompanying explanat ions. In

his view fear , horror , terror and despair are s imj) ly di l lerent

degrees c j I the same passion; and he says of this passion that

Γ

Fig. 3· "Fear and Terror". Plate III, Fig. 2, from Parsons' paper on

"Human Physiognomy".

" ihe same couii icnaiue wil l ser\e to e\ j) iess i t , with very l i t t le

a l terat ion" (ci . Fig. 3) . He conti iuies :

It has been iniagind, that the Eye brows might be moved in Parts;

that is , that one Part oi a Brow may l)e pul l 'd up while the other is puird down: Hut this (annot l)e, lor the ()c(ipito-Frontal is whidi pul ls up the Brow, acts a l l at once on ei ther Side.

Here he is re ierr ing to Lebrun's representat ion oi " la colère"

(cl . Fig. j ) . lùnl i ier cr i t ic ism ol Lebrun iol lows:

I cannot but think i t a wrong Applicat ion οΓ the Passion oi

Despair, to represent i t . with s tar ing Hair, corrugated Face, the

Brows drawn down even with the Fyes, and the Mouth open, with a weeping As})ect : . . .

Ibis ci i t ic ism is c l i iectecl at l .ebrun's j ) iesentat ion ol " le

clé'sesj)oir" (c i. Fig. 5).

As wil l ] )e remembered, I ) id)os wrote that eaci i j )ass ion has

i ts par t ic idar expression, piecleterminecl by nat i i re ; the })er-

Fig. 4. Fig· 5·

Fig. 4-5· "La Colère" and "Le Désespoir" . From Lebrun 's Expressions des passions de Vâme. Engraved by J . Auclran, 1727.

io inici wiio real ly knows what he is lo ad wil l desire lo assume

t l ie exj^ression j^roperiy belonoing to the emotion. Parsons—with

lUiHon—has no ( j i iarrel wi th this view, inheri ted i rom t l ie ant i -

( |ue doctr ine oi rhetor ic , but only wit l i Descar tes 's explanat ion

c)l the purely plnsiological cause ol e \ents . What Parsons does

is to <>i\e the rel lect ixe actor (he oj)pc)r tuni ty , througl i t ra ining

the nuiscles , to imitate with the aid ol the wil l (he expression

dictated by nature .

Mainiontel—like others beloie him—counsels (he actor to

s tudy pictor ia l ar t in order to be able to graduate the passions

11101 e el lect ively. This advice could be ol use e \en in a wider

a j )pl icat ion than the actor 's work on himsel l . Among Lebrun 's

passions there are jxi thet ic iormulae with a long t radi t ion in

] : ) ic toi ia l a i t ; Parsons points oiu that several ol them cannot

be represented through the countenance ol a l iving person.

r i ie knowledge which science could give ihe actor concerning

the play oi the facial muscles in different passions was not suf­

f ic ient for the total interpretat ion of a role . Mile . Clairon was

ful ly aware of this . She expressly emphasizes—in the course of

j )olemics against Mile . Dumesni l—that the passions take dif­

ferent expressions in different people , depending on social

posi t ion, nat ional i ty , age, e tc . , as Dubos too had noted. But

we know from famil iar anecdotes that both Mile . Clairon and

Ciarr ick catered for the contemporary passion for naked facial

expression wlien a t pr ivate gather ings they cat ised the whole

scale of emotions to play over the countenance in l ightning-

swif t changes . But , as Didero t wr i tes in h i s Paradoxe sur le

(oi i iédiej i , the soul cannot pass through al l these emotions a t

such a rapid pace. To be able to carry out this ar t is t ic s t roke

the actor must not only have a knowledge of the outward

facial s ign of each individt ia l passion but also know which

mtiscles should be used in order to produce these s igns. Mile .

Clairon was aware that she needed instruct ion in the anatomy

of the face; she approached her ar t with the a id of science. Ί l ie

conservat ive members of her at idiences thought that her act ing

lacked sensibi l i ty : the radical ones admired her a l l the more.

1 he reform of t ragic act ing did not cOnsist only in an at ­

tempt to combine declamation with pantomimic act ion and to

create a pompous and picturescpie decorat ive f ramework sui ted

to this . In addi t ion to accentuat ing the la tent emotional content

of the plays, })antomime had an i lhis ion-creat ing effect . Not

only did i t a l low the inner emotional real i ty to be expressed

but i t a lso gave an i l lusion of outward real ism, i t served to

convey what the spectator apprehended as l iving pict ines f rom

l i fe . In order to emphasize this aspect of act ing i t became

necessary a lso to reform the costume; the old cost inne oi

t ragedy, with i ts r i tual character , was no longer adecjuate . But

i t was not purely s tyl is t ic considerat ions that const i tuted the

dr iving force behind the experiments of Mme. Favart , Mile .

(Hairon and Lekain with ccjs t iune. Here, too, the contemporary

passion for science played a j )ar t . I t was fashic^nable to take an

inteiest in geography and ethnography. Voltaire 's t ragedies

catered for this tas te in a marked manner . The predi lect ion

for ant ic jui ty and also for the Middle Ages was character ized by

an clhn() i>raj)hi(al interest , Mlle . (Jairon says that a knowlecl i^e

o i geogiaph) and his tory is indispensable ior the aspir ing ac tor ,

l in t i t is not suHicient to endow the (ostnnies with a nieasine

ot local colour; the nio\enients in their turn must be adapted

to the di i terent s tyles . I hereiore the ac tor , as a i in ther su]) j )or t

ioi h is ^vork, must take instruct ion in drawing and s tudy

j) ic tc)r ia l ar t . I t is not j )C)ss ible , she wri tes , to combine Raphael

and (Fal lot in l i ie inter j ) re ta t ic)n ol a role a t the same t ime;

plnsiognomy and movements must be adaj) ted to the di i lerent

c hai ac ters .

Lekain clexoted great a t tent ion to these cjuest ions, as is shown

l)y his s tage compendia . -^ But the object was not to achieve

archaeological acctnacy in scener) , cost inne and act ion; the

whole thing was idt imately a romantic [ l ight i rom real i ty . As

Agne ßei jer wri tes : - ·^ " l l ie majori ty ol barocjue and rococo

opera lÜMett i woidcl lose wliat renmants oL poet ic logic they

have i t the characters were clc facio taken as ant ic jue i igtnes .

Their emotional l i ie , their thoughts , their Avhole manner ol

exis tence was that ol the ar is tocrat ic pt ibl ic , b t i t in tensif ied and

exal ted in a romanesc[ue manner ." Ihis also appl ies to the

characters in t ragech, pantomime and bal le t dur ing this phase.

W'e ha\e sj)oken ol ihe clecis i \e importance which the great

pantomime presentat ions had lor t ragic act ing. Wt have also

seen that oj^erat ic direct ion j) layecl a not inconsiderable jxnt in

this develo])ment . When not ing Voltaire 's a t t i tude to oj^era we

establ ished that what to us seems the most essent ia l ieat ine of

this genre, namely the music , was to Voltaire i f anything an

incon\enience. I t ^\ 'as a soin ce of annoyance to him that the

ar ias broke the act ion, though he was not insensi t i \e to the

suggest ive effect of music . I le remained conser \a t ive in his

a t t i tude to declamation; he preferred the s inging emphat ic

s tyle and did not want the actors to s])eak the verse as i f they

were reading a newspa|)er a loud. In the correspondence with

Mile . (Jai ion concerning the presentat ion of Greste he wri tes

(Jan. 1750): " )e n 'a i point pré ' tenclu noter son rcMe, mais j 'a i

prétendu indicjuer la xar ic té des sent iments cjui doivent y

régner , e t les nuances des sent iments cju 'e l le doi t exprimer.

C 'es t l 'a l legro et Je p iai io des musiciens." This is wholly in the

3 — 663206 Holms t röm 33

spi l i t οί Dubos. A year or two latei Mile. CJairon changed her

manner of declaiming. Marmontel writes : ·^^^

. . . el le fut j ) lus subl ime encore dans l 'Électre de Voltaire . Ce rôle , que Voltaire lui avoi t fa i t déclamer avec une lamentat ion cont inuel le e t monotone, par lé plus naturel lement , acqui t une beauté inconnue à lui même, . . .

A theatr ical ar t which so expressly a ims at affect ing the

ai idience 's feel ings and imaginat ion can scarcely exis t wdthoi i t

the s i i | )port of music . We have seen how this problem occi i j ) ied

Did)os 's thonghts . Now% when the musical e lement in declama­

t ion was almost vanishing, i t became necessary to ut i l ize the

suggest ive effect of music in another w^ay.

Lekain, that far-s ighted rég isseur , therefore introduced in-

s t r imiental music in t ragedy.There had always l )een an

orchestra a t the Comédie Française , but i t had only played

entr 'acte music , in tended as a re laxat ion for the audience and

withot i t any relat ion wliatever to the play being performed. An

anonymous thea t re - lover , wr i t ing to the Mercure de France

( i J tdy 1764) i ippeals to actors about this s ta te of affairs . He

suggests that they shoidd:

. . . préparer les espr i ts des spectateurs qui vont entendre les bel les p ièces de C^orne i l l e , l e s t ragéd ies de Sérn iramh, iVÊIec t rc , de Tau-crède, . . . par les bel les e t nerveuses ouvertures du grand Rameau; j 'en l ierais les actes par des airs touchants e t mélodieux, j ) ropres à fomenter la durée de cet a t tendrissement dél ic ieux cpie les chefs-d 'œuvres versent dans tous les sens . . . Après l 'appari t ion de l 'ombre de Ninus, (piel effet ne produirai t pas , par exemple, le lugubre pré­lude qu i carac té r i se l e monologue p la in t i f e t sépulc ra l de Tris tes apprê t s , pâ les f lambeaux! dans Castor e t Pol lux! .

The prayers of this corres]K)ndent were soon heard. AVhen

Voltaire 's Le Triurnrürat was presented on 5 }tdy 1764, there

was j ) layed as overt iue a symphony which ' ' j^eignai t la tempête

e t le soidèvement des f lots" (Mercure de France, Jidy 1764) .

Ί bat this w^as not an isolated attem|)t on Lekain 's j^art can be

seen from his compendia, which contain detai led instruct ions

concerning the mus ic . In h i s p lan for the ] ) roduct ion of AJz i re ,

w^hich has been j^idj l i shed by Olivier, the ma î tre de musique is

g iven the fol lowing direct ions: '^-

Suivant la ré j ) l i (pie , ( jui sera donnée au Maître de musique par le Souff leur dans le cours de la scène cincpi ième du second Acte , luie

pal tic de J'oi( hcstrc, composée d'une liniballe, de deux tronn^ettes el de deux clarinetles, peint derrière le théâtre une niusiijue (jui annonce un grand jour de iêle; il laut ol^server cjue cette espèce de concert ne doit durer tout au plus c|ue trois minutes, (ju'il s'annonce d'abord avec beaucoup de douceur, cju'ensuite il aui^mente, et cju'in-sensiblement il diminue au point de n'être })lus du tout entendu. Le même objet de simphonie continiie pleinement dans l'intervalle du second et du troisième acte. Kiure le troisième et le cjuatrième acte, la simphonie doit peindre un bruit de guerre et de victoire remportée

par (iu/man sur les Américains.

I l wil l he scen that this is a ( | i ics t ic)n not only ol entr 'acte

nuis ic which wil l prepare the ai idience emotional ly tor the

fol lowing act but also of nuis i t in the play i tself . Lekain has

planned this a tmosphere-creat ing work in detai l , specifying i ts

general character and also the composi t ion of the orchestra

and the exact moments of commencement and conchis ion. This

leads one 's thoughts to choreographic music and impels one to

ask whether j )antomime bal le t may have affected the develop­

ment in this res})ect .

In 1760 Noverre }) id) l ished his Let t res sur la danse , in which

he jni ts forward his theories on a new system of aesthet ics for

the bal le t , l l ianks to i ts logical arrangement , i ts concise

language, and the con\ incing exposi t ic^n of the ideas , the book

was widely read al l over Einope; i t l^ecame a bi l ) le not only for

bal le t producers but also for the new school of theatr ical

prc:)di ic t ion. Behind Noverre 's ballet d 'act ion l ies a development

which in many respects is paral le l to that which we have l )een

a[) le to obser \e in the case of t ragedy. As we have seen, Diibos

had already | ) i i t forward the idea that l )a l le l was not merely a

mechanical leg exercise . In the s j^here of bal le t , too, his ideas

were not to bear f rui t ini t i l the i74()s , a l ter they l iad been

made topical by the great j^antomime product ions. In 1741

Rcmoncl c le Sa in t -Mard wr i tes in h i s Réf lex ions sur Vopéra: ' ^ ' "^

Nos danses sont prescjue toutes dessinées les inies comme les autres. Nulle variété, nul esj^rit. Serait-il donc si difficile d'y mettre j)lus de feu, plus d'invention? Je ne dis pas cjue nos danseurs devinssent tout à fait pantomimes : ce serait trop: mais y aurait-il du mal cju'ils le fussent un peu? Qui les empêche de mettre de la nol)lesse clans leurs airs de tête, de rex})rcîssion clans leurs mouvemens, de varier leurs attitudes et cle n'être plus, enfin, conmie des danseurs cle carton

(ju'on fait remuer })ar machines.

As late as 1754 Caluisac (() inj) la i i is about the coi i tcni j joi ary

Frcndi l)al lc t . ·^^ rhcre is no act ion, he sa\s , in " le grand l ia l le t" ;

the ( lancing depicts nat ional characters , nt \ thological or his tor­

ical l igures with the aid ol costumes, dance s teps and at t i tudes;

but in ihis i t only resembles paint ing, which can do no more

than give an instantaneous picture . I he bal le t entrees should

be welded into a dramatic: uni ty and the dancing should clej) ic t

a l l the emotions oi the soul . As an example ol eai l ier a t temj) ts

to create a bal le t ol ac t ion, (^ahusac c i tes the pantomimic ie})re-

sentat ion ol Horaee at the house ol the Duchesse de Maine. As

we ha\e seen, this performance was also noted by Dubos; in

iact (^ahusac: borrowed huge par ts ol Dubos 's book and pre­

sented them as his own. (^ahusac behe\es that one ol the

reasons why i t has been so cl i l l icul t to re iorm bal le t is the con­

servat ism ol the per iormers . He inges \c)ung people who \vant

to make a career in bal le t to s tudy l i le as i t is l i \ed and not

to neglect pictor ia l ar t . He advises them to s tudy the woiks

a t the Louvre with concentrat ion in order to learn how art is ts

j )a int the soul . He emphasizes t ime and again that every real

theatr ical s i tuat ion is nothing but a l iving ]) ic ture: "s ' i l arr ive

done un join· c jue cjuelcpie Dansein de gé ' i i ie entre | ) renne de

reprc^senter s in notre Ihciatre Lyricjue une grande act ion, c ju ' i l

connnence par en extraire toutes les s i tuat ions propres à iournir

des tableaux à la Peinture" .

Ί he inspired dancer-reformer was already on the way. \o-

verre himself te l l s us that i t was af ter he had seen C»ari ick in

London (wheie he l ived 1755-57) that he abandoned the s tyle

in which he had been brought uj) and l iencelor th devoted him­

self to the only form of dancing which he now considers

possible: la pa}i tofni fne / leroique. His change of s tv le is pre­

sented as a sudden conversion. I t is j^robable that the new

ideas were in fac t ly ing dormant in his mind and needed oidy

this re lease to assimie a clear ly def ined form. Noveire te l ls us

that in Ciarr ick 's extensive l ibiary he had the opportuni ty to

read al l the exis t ing l i teratuie on the ar t of pantomime.

in order to create a bal le t which can be j) lacecl on a par with

t ragedy the fol lowing measuies are , in Xoverre 's o | ) inion, es­

sent ia l . The given mechanical ])ar t of the dance, the var ious

"pas" and arm movements must be endowed with l i fe through

a j )ani() inini i ( adion, lor onh ihcn (an the dance depict l l ie

j )ass i ( )ns . l>i i l bodi ly ni() \enienls \vi lhoi i i the par i ic i j )a l ion ol

the coini lenance are nr janingless , ior i t is in the iace ol man

dial one can most c lear ly read the nio\enienls oi the soul . For

this reason, \o \erre emphasizes , i t is absind to re ta in die use

ol d ie iace mask; a painter would not be able to achieve a

i igural composi t ion in this way. Just as \o \erre wants to l ibe­

rate the iace f rom the mask, so also he wants to i ree the body

i rom the "panier" and "tonnelet" , which destroy al l contours ,

a l l beaut i iul l ines , l ie wants to see a bal le t costume which

wil l do the lul les t just ice to the play ol l ines in the dancer 's

a t t i tudes. In this costume the mater ia l must be l ight without

being too airy, i t must be ioiniecl in beaut i iul iolcls and the

hems ol the drapeiy must be able to bi l low and i lut ter in

e\ei -changing iorms according to the l i \e l iness ol t l ie move­

ments . in this wish loi l luicl contours one ieels the ini luence

oi Hogarth 's The Analysis of Beauty (1753) . ßut ϋ al l this is to

be able to iuncl ion as a depict ion oi pass ions i t i s essential .

wv' i lcs Xoverre, that there should be express i\e, special ly com ­

posed music .

With a common star t ing jx) int in the revival o i ant ic jue

pantomime in the i j jos , t ragedy and bal le t have, as we see,

ap j ) rc )achec l each o ther . Faxar t was r igh t when in IM Ressource

des Theatres he saw the lack oi an\ dis t inct ion l )e tween the

cl i i ierent dramatic genres as a character is t ic o i his t ime.

X'ol ta i re , in the preiace to Les Scy thes ( lyinj) , cal ls the new

style oi act ing, genuine theatr ical act ion. He cont inues: "I t is

i l l th is great ar t , that o i being able to speak to the eye, that

Fngland 's greatest actor , M. ( .arr ick, has his s t rength and i t is

wi th this that he has shaken and moxecl us , e \en those oi us

who did not undersland his language", ( iarr ick had been in

Paris ior some months in ΐ7(κ |-()5 and had been hai led by his

ie l low-actors and the connoisseurs as the incarnation cj i their

own ideals oi tragic act ion. F^ngl ish drama and pantomime—

and ( iarr ic k—were important s t imuli ior French theatr ical ar t

dur ing these years : but , as we shal l see, they were not the only

im))ulses coming i rom Fngland.

X'ol ta i re a lso wri tes in the preiace to Les Scy thes : "Diderot

has gone e\en lur ther than the author oi Seni irani is in the

(Hiccl ion οί a larger, more ]Mctures( |ue scenic a j)paral i i s and

more impassioned movemenls" . In lad Diderot not only went

f iuther than Voltaire in these respects, he had an entirely new

view of their i inutions. His ideas on pantomimic act ion are

clevelo})ed in Entret iens sur le f i l s naturel (1757) and above al l

in the monograph De la poésie dramatique, which was ]) i ib-

l ished together with Le père de famil le in 175H.

Ihe act ion in the old s tyle ol t ragedy—and st i l l to some

extent in Voltaire 's drama—was oi s t ich a nat ine that there was

a direct contact between the ai idience and the actors . The

spectators cotdd feel themselves to be j)assive par t ic ipants in

t l ie conversat ion on the s tage and the actors t inned direct ly to

them. Diderot , however , wanted the ioot l ights to be a boundary

between two di t terent worlds . He wri tes : ·^ · '^ . . le spectatein

est an thciatre comme devant une toi le , o î i des ta l ) leaux divers

se succéderaient j^ar enchantement" . Wliat is hapj^ening on the

s tage must be a s l ice oi l i te . Diderot re lers to the I ta l ian actors ,

who take l i t t le not ice of the audience and indeed of ten appear

to forget them al together . Life is not an uninterrupted con­

versat ion, he wri tes ; important events can take place without

a s ingle word being spoken. Pantomime, therefore , shoidd be a

very important par t of the play; i t b inds the dialogues to­

gether , i t character izes , i t can serve instead of an answer. Accord­

ingly, Diderot cont inues, the author must supply s tage direct ions

descr ibing the pantomimic par ts ; this is a lso the s ini j j les t way of

teaching the publ ic wliat i t shoidd demand from the actors .

Diderot has himself c lone this both in Le f i ls naturel and in

Le père de fami l le .

According to Diderot the s tage is to be regarded as a pict iue.

I t is therefore not surpr is ing that he wants to see the pr inci j ) les

of composi t ion that are observed in paint ing ap | ) l ied to panto­

mime as wel l . When an incident occurs in real l i fe where se\eial

persons are involved these are grouj)ed in the most natural way

{de la maïi ière la plus x^raie); but the resul t ing composi t ion is

not a lways the one most advantageous for the painter or the

clearest for the beholder . I he painter has to reduce the natuial

arrangement to an ar t i f ic ia l one, and the same must apply to

the course of events on the s tage. Ί he painter could be oi much

help to the actor, and the actor could great ly ass is t ihe painter .

H u l Diderot has no hope that sucl i cooj^erat iou wil l tome about

for , he says, we love the theatre too l i t t le .

But how did these pictures in Diderot ' s "peepshow" theatre

api^ear? I t is usual to ex})lain his s tage direct ions by reference

to his favouri te ar t is t Cxreuze. I t is undoubtedly t rue that there

was a mutual inspirat ion between these two. But Diderot him­

self gives a hint of another of his sources for the l iving pict tnes

he wanted to compose on the s tage; and i t is here that once

more we f ind an example of Engl ish ini luence. Diderot wri tes : ·^^ '

("est la peinture des mouvements (jui charme, surtout dans les

romans domestic]ues. Voyez avec cjuelle complaisance l'auteur de Pamela, de (rvandisson et de CAarisse s'y arrête! Voyez quelle force, ( |uel sens, et cjuel pathétique elle donne à son discours! Je vois le personnage; soit (pi'il parle, soit qu'il se taise, je le vois; et son action

m'affecte plus (jue ses paroles.

Diderot ' s s tage direct ions do of ten have the character ot

dramatizat ions of pathet ic scenes f rom Richardson 's novels . In

his Éloge de Richardson he again expresses his enthusiasm for

the novel is t ' s vivid descr ipt ion of the pantomimic: play between

people . Richardson 's novels had as a mat ter oi tact a l ready

been the subject of dramatizat ion l^y, among others , Cioldoni . -^ ' '

Vol ta i re , in his preface to Les Scy thes , hai ls the representa­

t ives of the new^ t ragic act ion: Dumesni l , Lekain, Clairon. He

was f idly aware of his debt to them. Nevertheless in his hear t

he remained conservat ive in his tas tes and was somewhat

dis turbed by the development he had himself helped to s tar t .

After congratulat ing his "(hers enfants" he wri tes : ' 'quatre

beaux x fers de seu t in ieu t mi leu t mieux que ( juaraute be l les a t ­

t i tudes" .

Ί he theatregoing {)ubl ic of the new epoch was not to agree

with this . As Agne Bei jer and (;r)sta M. Bergman have pointed

c^ut, there is a s traigl i t l ine leading Irom Voltaire ' s theatre to

melodrama and the great v isual s tage art of romanticism.

Ihe cidttual e l i te w^ere more cr i t ical of the melodramatic

e lement and the na ïve spectacidar effects . But even in these

c i rc les there was to be no supjK)r t fo r Vol ta i re ' s v iew. On the

contrary , there was to be a waxte o f exper iments wi th fac ia l

express io j i , beaut i fu l a t t i tudes , and a p ic tor ia l t ype o f produc-

t ion a( h ieved in a new a t id sophis t i ca ted nuniner .

2 . M O N O D R A M A

Ί \νο cl iarac tel i s t ic iealures of i l ie theatre oi the 17508 were,

as J l iave aheacly j)oi i i tecl out, the dissolut ion ol the l)ouiuhu' ies

between genres whicl i were previously dist inct and a renewed

study oi pantomimic act ion as a medium lor express ing the

emotions. A curious outcome ol this search ior new modes

o l express ion was an ent i re ly new genre ca l led Mouodra tna,

a hybrid consist ing ol music, declamation and pantomime which

nourished Î rom the 1770s to the end ol the century.

We ha\e here one of the rare cases where the or igin and

course of development of an ar t form are beyond argument .

Monodrama as a Icj i in was created by l iousscau with his one-

act phi) Pygmalion, l l ie work was probably wri t ten in i7()3

but was not produced unt i l 1770 in Lyons. A genre so clear ly

del imited natural ly offers an excel lent subject for research, and

as i t is par t icular ly wel l adapted for throwing l ight on cer ta in

nuis ical j ) roblems i t has a t t racted his tor ians of music . Ihe

la tes t work in th i s f i e ld i s by J . van der Veen , Lc t t i é lodranic

îni is ical de Rousseau au Roinant isnic , which gives an ad­

mirably clear and cr i t ical account of the his tory of the genre

and an excel lent analysis of monoclrama as a musical genre.^

Rousseau wrote Pygnial iou as a pract ical demonstrat ion of his

theories on reci ta t ive in French opera.- He bel ieved that the

French language was too abstract , that i t had lost i ts natural

musical character and therefore could not be combined har­

moniously in reci ta t ixe with an expressive musical score. For

Rousseau music was not an abstract form without expression.

Since speech and music , as he says, cannot walk together he

has t r ied to make one fol low the other ; every "phrase par le"

is prej)arecl for by a "phrase musicale" . When passion has

reached such an intensi ty that the words no longer suff ice ,

the declamation must be broken off and the violent emotion

expressed j>antomimicalh to the accomj)animent oï expressixe

music . Sound and gestures , Rousseau says, are man's or iginal

means οΓ cxj) icss i() i i . ΊΊιο music loi" Pygindl iof i was composed

l)v Rousseau in c() l la l)oiat ion Avith an amaieui cal led (À)i;^net .

The words weie })ubl ished in the Mercure de hviuice in 17/ ' '

bui i l \vas nol unl i l 1775 dial the l>lay Avas l i i s l j )e i formed

in Par is , a t the ( lomccl ie Française .

The s tory oi the scul j>lor Pygmalion, who fal ls in love with

his masteipiece, the s ta tue ot ( .a la tea . is taken i rom Ovid 's

Metiui iorpUoses. Ί he theme was by no means new to the

theatre; i t had been used earl ier both in bal let and opera,

on twc:) occasions in productions ot an experimental character .

On the f i rs t of these occasions Mile. Sal le used i t in her bal let

Fyginal io) ! which was danced at Oovenl (»arden in 1734· 1 l ie

Mercure de Frem ce' · ' ' descr ibes how in this t )a l le t zMlle . Sal le

aroused great interest owing to her cost inne, which was ar­

ranged in classicizing s tyle . I t consis ted ol a s imj^le musl in

dress draj jed "sin" le modèle d 'une Statue (»rcccjue" without

jxiniers , and the dancer wore nei ther wig nor mask. Her

pantomimic s tyle of danc ing, with the em])hasis on feel ing and

act ion, was also a complete dejxir ture f rom the contemporary

French style whic4i a imed at superf ic ia l technical br i l l iance.

Mile . Sal lc ' had formed this s tyle under the inf luence of Ricl i ' s

] )antomime bal le ts . Natural ly enough she had a great success

in London, i )ut in France she could f ind no support for

e i ther the "ant ic jue" costume or the dancing with the emphasis

la id on the act ion. E\en V^oltaire found no words of praise

for her classicizing costume—his own ideas on the reform of

costume, as we have seen, favoured the j )ompously picturesc[uc

s tvle , but on the other hand he admired Mile . Sal le 's ex |nes-

siveness . In fact this ar t is te was 20 years before her t ime, for

i t was not unl i l the 1750s, when she had long s ince ceased

to dance, that C^ahusac and No\erre set her up as an example

to be fol lowed.

I he second examj^le of a work based on the Pygmalion

theme which in t roduced a nove l ty i s Rameau ' s ba l le t Fyg-

î f ial iou of 1748, in wli ic h he had the col laborat ion of (^ahusac.^

in Rameau's eai l ier bal le ts there was a dis t inct ion between

"danse s imple " and "danse d 'act ion", but in the las t scene

of PygNKiIiou there is used for the f i rs t t ime the term "danse

])antomime". ' '

Ί he ass()( iat ioi i with paiuonii i i ic bal le l i s rewarding. Rous ­

seau 's intent ion with Pyo^HKil ion was, as we have seen, to piu

inlo piadice his theories on opera re( i la t i \e . l>uL when read­

ing t l ie words ol tJ ie play one is s t ruck by the fact lhat the

l ines are ol a pale . j )hi losopIi i / in» character and i t is the

pantomimic elements which keep up the dramatic tension.

In his hook \ een emphasi /es this and regaicls Noverre as an

essent ia l iactor in the loini gi \ 'en b\ Rousseau to his play,

in suj)poi t ol his thesis Veen adchiees , in addi t ion to the

general interest oi the per iod in the bal le t oi act ion, the

edi t ion ol Rousseau 's text pul) l ished in Vienna in 1772. 1 he

t i t le page reads: "Pygmalion de Λί. ί .- j . Rousseau, scène lyr i -

c jue execi i tc 'e s in le rhé 'â t re Imperial de Vienne avec musi-

cjue chi Siein Asj^elmayer , Vienne, chez Joseph Km/bock,

i772."< ' Ί his i s an im])ortant publ icat ion because, in addit ion

to the text i tsel l , i t a lso contains exact direct ions on the charac ­

ter and length ol the nuis ical interpolat ions and the panto­

mimic act ion, arranged in three col innns: one descr ibes the

character ol the instr innental music , one gives the lengths

oi the musical interpolat ions, and the third contains direct ions

lor the act ing (Fig. ()) . 1 he s imilar i ty to the way ot set t ing

clown choreographic music is evident and the act ion is s t r ic t ly

bound to the nuis ic , as in a scene i rom a pantomime bal le t .

lese marginal notes have been at t r ibuted by researchers

to Rousseau hinrsel l , though the exidence lor this is not iul ly

convincing. ' However this may be, the book clear ly shows

an inl luence Irom Xoxerre and, in an even higher degree,

I rom Diderot ' s wri t ings on pantomime. I t may e\en ref lect a

contact with ( iarr ick 's pantomimic: act ion, lor Rousseau ptd)-

l ishecl h is j ) lay shoi t ly a l ter his re turn i rom Knglancl .^ The

pantonn 'nnc direct ions are independent ol the convent ions ol

t l ie chince and ol declamation and can be regaicled as an ex-

j)ression of the yearning ol the i7()()s and i77()s lor a free,

suggest ixe, coi poral expression of emotion. \ \ i th regard to the

funct ion of the nuis ic , to prepare the audience emotional ly

lor the lol lowing declamation, we have noted paral le l effor ts

within s j )oken drama.

As Ave have seen, i t was not Rousseau 's intent ion to create

in a neoclassical work by levixing the Mrloj jr of

Fig. 8. Fig· 9·

Fig. 8. Larive and Mlle. Rancour i Rousseau's Pygmalion. Contemporary

engraving.

Fig. 9. Charlotte Brandes as Ariadne. Fngraved l)y Sintzenich after a

painting by GraiT, 1781.

Circek tragedy, but his coiueniporai ies regarded the phiy as

s i ic l i an attempt. ·* Die perlorniaiue in Paris in 1775 a t any

rate ga\e occasion ior an experiment oi chiss ic i / ing type.

Larive phiyed Pygmalion and in this role a t tcmj) ted lor the

f i rs t l ime a cost inne in (Grecian s tyle . Descr ipt ions and an

engra\ ing from the performance give a picture of a great

c onf i is ion of s tvles .^" '^•) M He. Rat icoin , who phiyecl

Cfalatea, had paniers under a dress r ichly decorated with

gar lands of f lowers and roset tes and in addi t ion wore a huge

powdered wig. Larive was dressed in tunic and sandals but

h i s ha i r was powdered and dressed à Id ?no( lc .

Although Pygmal ion was wel l iecei \ed in Paris and re­

mained on the rej)er toire unt i l the beginning of the ic j th

cenlury i t had no close succcssors in France, with one or ivvo

except ions, and le i l no traces of importance in discussions on

the t l ieatre . On the other hand, the monochania technicpie was

soon introchiced in the pantomimes and musical j ) lays of the

connnercial theatre , and, above al l , in melodrama J ̂

In Germany, however , the genre was develoj^ed abundant ly

af ter Cioethe 's in t roduct ion in 1772 of Pygmalion at AVeimar.

I t is not c lear how Cioethe became accj i ia inted with Roiisseat i ' s

text . Is te l th inks that i t was t l i rough ( i r imm that the work be­

came known in (GermanyJ- E. Schmidt says that Cioethe got

the text through Sophie de La Roche.The play was per­

formed in \ \ 'e imar on May 1772 to the music of Anton

Schweitzer , and J . λί . Bök played Pygmalion to Franziska

Kock's C^ ' i la tea; the score and the t ranslat ion of the words

have l )een lost . Ί he performance was a great st iccess, i t was

repeated in 1774 and ins j ) i red the author and actor / . C. Bran ­

des to t ry the genre, ] )ar t ly l )e(ause he wished to provide

h i s wi fe (Char lo t te wi th a good j^ar t . The resu l t was Ariadne

on Naxos. As a basis for the text Brandes used a cantata by

Gerstenberg. Schweitzer luider took to compose the music but

never completed the work, being prevented by an order f rom

the C^oin t that he shoidd at once set AN'ieland 's Ah este to

mus ic ; the bes t o f the passages he had comj)osed for Ariadne

were t ransfeired to that opera . In 1774 t l ie theatre in Weimar

was binned down and Seyler ' s t roupe moved to Ck)tha. Here

Brandes became ac( |uainted with Georg Benda, who offered

to compose music for the monodrama. The (x:) iu t was great ly

interested in the new dramatic form. 'Fhe Duke, who com­

bined good taste with a considerable knowledge of the ant ic jue,

chose the cost innes, and the decor was carr ied out to Brandes '

inst i t ic t ions . In 1775 the play was performed for the f i rs t

t ime.^·" ' I t was a br i l l iant success for Bencla , C^harlot te lurandes

and the author . Benda carr ied his success f inther by wri t ing

another monoclrama, Medea, to a synopsis by (k) t ter . The

name part was ]) layecl by Mme. Seyler and the f i rs t performance

took ]) lace in Lei})zig in 1775. Ihis monoclrama, too, was

h igh ly success fu l , a l though no t to the same ex ten t as Ariadne ,

which was soon being played al l over Ciermany and was also

presented abioacl d ining the ensuing year .^ '»

4(3

The Ariadne οί C^iai lottc Hiaiules, l ike ihe Pyi>nial i()n οΓ

Larive in t l ie same year, has tound a place in thealr ical history,

mainly owing to i l s "general ly ( i recian" costume. In the

Ihcdtcr Kalender οΓ lyyi) we can read the fol lowing:^ ' '^775

hat die deutsche Bühne in ßeobaiht iuig der (^esetze des Ko-

st i ims wieder sehr wei t gebracht , ßey der Voistelhing der

Ariadne zu ( iotha erschien das ers te i icht-al tgr iechische Kleid

auf dem 1 heatei" es war nach den Zeichnimgen al ter Denk­

mäler und nach W'inkelmanns ßeschreibinig ver ier t igt und

der Kopfputz gleichfal ls von einer a l ten C^emme der Ariadne

genommen." (Fig. 9 . ) According to the descr i | ) t ion ol Cxi a i I s

por t ra i t in the Tfieater Kalender for 177S the cost imie con­

sis ted of white s i lk a t las c loth held together with a red

g i rd le . Ihe c loak , too , was red . Max ßoehn wr i tes in Das

Β Ü/men kos t inn "Die CxOthaer geler ten Zei t imgen aus dem

gleichen [ahre schreiben, dass die Ungezwimgenhei t dieser

z t igleich für die Leicht igkei t imd Freihei t der Aktion vortei l ­

haf t gef iuiden winxle ." ßoehn says that Ariadne wore "Schnür­

le ib" and "Stöckelschuhe", but does not give his source for this

s ta tement , ßut with regard to the footwear the engravings of

Kraus in the Theater Kalender of 1776 show that (J iar lot te

ßrandes wore sandals in the ant ic jue s tyle , wi thout heels ; her

movement may thus very WTI I have seemed to the spectators

l ight and free (Fig. 10) . ßut the total impression must have

been rather rococo in \ ' iew of the s t i f f s i lk cost inne; a l though

we have only to consider the cost imie and pose of Kathar ina

Jacjuel as Ariadne in Vienna in the lyHos (Fig. 11) to tuuler-

s tand that to her contemporar ies (Hiar lot te ßrandes ' dress

seemed a bold experiment in ant ic jue Cirecian s tyle . Schink

gives a mordant descr ipt ion of the V^iennese Ariadne:^· · "Happy

is the Ariadne who casts herself f rom the rocks in Vienna.

The theatre has thoughtful ly arranged things so that the

waves cannot claim her , for her s tarched skir t wil l keej) her

up. Like a mermaid she wil l dance over the waves, and if

only she has learnt to s tarve she can cer ta inh count on

reaching dry land af ter a few days."

ßenda cal ls his ]) lay a "Duo Drama" in the score and

piano version which he had pr inted: i t coirs is ts of two suc­

cessive monologues.

ΊΊΐο action takes place on the deserted island of Naxos. Wlien the

(urtain rises Ariadne is lying asleep on the ground. I'heseus comes

Ironi a rock opposite. He laments that he has to jiart from Ariadne,

l ie re|)roaches himselt lor leaving the woman who has so coura­geously rescued him from the labyrinth. He is troubled by the thought of the dreadiul iate awaiting her, alone and abandoned in tliis deserted place. When Ariadne calls out his name in her sleej) he wavers, but the sound of trumpets from the (ireek ileet reminds him of his duty to his iatherland. Alter invoking the sympathy of the gods he hastily leaves Ariadne. I'hen follows the second mono­logue. Ariadne awakes, finds herself alone, and acclaims the beauti­ful sunrise, i)ut is api^dled l)y the sombre scene, the barren rocks and the dark forest, the raging sea: alone, she will never be able to survive in this dreadful place. Believing that Theseus has gone to the forest to hunt she begins to fear for his life, remembering her dreadful dream during the night that he would abandon her. lier anxiety grows, she begins to call his name, is seized by terror, the beautiful sinirise is succeeded by dark clouds, a storm threatens, and I heseus does not return. Now there is a sound of an Oread's voice, proclaiming that Theseus is forever lost to her. Ariadne sees the Cireek ship on the horizon and breaks out in incoherent laments. In her confusion she seeks to relive in her memory their brief idyll. Her grief changes to rage, she desires the vengeance of the gods on the man who has so ruthlessly trampled on her love. Soon her mood changes, she loves him again, ho})elessness takes hold of her. She recalls her happy childhood and sees herself now forsaken by gods and men because of a single transgression. She calls upon her mother, imploring her to withdraw her curse, and expresses her longing for death. Again the \()ice of the Oread is heard, saying that Ariadne's prayers have been heard, her liberator and avenger is coming. At first Ariadne thinks that her salvation is at hand, but soon realizes that the liberator is death. The storm increases, the whole of nature is in tunuilt, the lightning flashes, she is unable to bear her despair longer. She is struck by lightning and falls into the sea calling I heseus's name.

The text is of small l i tcraiy \a l i ie and, read h) i tself ,

soinuls l ike a parcxly. Beiula 's nuis ic : i s of very l i igh ( j i ia l i ty

but cannot he perfoinied sepaiately withot i t the words which

i t in t roduces. Music and text are indissoI id) ly i ini tecl . l l ie

play is leased on the tension between different emotional

s i tuat ions and the music fol lows al l the f luctuat ions of emo­

t ion. I ts notes j )a int the s imrise and the s torm that Ariadne

depic ts in words and wit l i "Ki innerinigsmotiv" hinds together

the dramatic act ion. Sometimes i t foreshadows the woicls , some-

Fig. 10. Fig. I I .

Fig. 10 Charlotte Brandes as Ariadne. Engraving after a drawing by Kraus. Theater Kalender 1776.

Fig. II. Katherina Jaquet as Ariadne. Painted by Hickel.

t imes i t accentuates the emotion by coming af ter the clechima-

t ion and holding the atmosphere. Often only three or foin^

bars are j^layed between the spoken l ines , yet the music has a

f i rm structure in contrast to the mediocre score of Rousseau

and (Poignet for PygtnaJio}! . Ihe lat ter consis ts of detached

musical ] )hrases which do not i l lustrate the feel ings which are

expressed in the s j )oken w'ords , but are merely a basis for

the ])antomimic act ing. In Ariadne on Naxos t l ie pantomimic

act ion is not f ixed in the same way and thus scope is g iven

for a freer ]) lay of emotions. In the pr inted score there are

in al l 31 s tage direct ions, in the ]) iano vers ion only 26; of

these only three are indicat ions of a puiely pantomimic charac­

ter . These are as fol lows: 1. I t is not iced that Ariadne is

t rot ibled by a terr i fying cheam; 2. He intends to go, but tarr ies

4 — 663206 Hobns lröm 49

and looks with anguish upon Aiia(hie; 3 . \Vhile going up

the rock he casts an anxious ghuice upon Ariadne. Of the

remaining 28 direct ions, 21 concern the movements a lone and

seven te l l the s tage s ta l l when to ])roduce thunder and l ight­

ning, clc3uds and the gl iding ot the ship through the waves.

Ί his can be set against Pygtnal iof i , where we have about 30

stage direct ions and 30 direct ions for the pantomime.

Ar iad t ie on Naxos was reviewed in the Thratcr-Kalendcr

for 1776.-" I he review begins by informing the reader that

th i s k ind of j^ lay was created by Rousseau wi th h i s Pygmal ion,

but the ])roduction of Ariadne in ( iotha is the f i rs t exam])le

of this genre to be j) layecl oiusicle France. Ί he reviewer con ­

s iders that as the music }) lays such an important par t ßenda

should be given the credi t for this new creat ion. I t might

wel l , he thinks, br ing abot i t a revohuion in opera with i ts

boring reci ta t ive and ar ias , the words of which i t is impossible

to iniclers tand. He also considers that , l ike Madame Brandes

in Ariadne and "Die Seyler in" in Medea, the performer in the

musical duodrama can give himself up ent i re ly to the act ion,

abandoning himself to the inspirat ion in declamation, ex­

pression and gest ic tdat ion; the mtis ic supports the act ing and

enthral ls the spectator .

In the Theater lournal the cc)m])oser Neefe wrote an in­

terest ing ai t ic le ent i t led " l ieber Herrn ßenda 's Arbei ten fürs

deutsche Ί heater" .-^ In actual fact i t deals exclusively wit l i

Ariadne on Naxos, Benda's other works for the theatre being

enumerated withc:)ut comment. Neefe emphasizes that Rotis-

seau with his Pygjnal ion merely init iated the new genre but

did not create i t . His play is exclusi\ely pantomimic, there

is no ])robabi l i ty in i t , no interest in coherent act ion, no

f inely shaded emotions which lead onwaids to a f inal doom,

as in Ariadne on Naxos. Neefe wii tes f inther; "Ikdcl gel i t

die Musik voiaus, bald mit der Deklamation /ugleicl i , bald

hinter der Deklamation, tun die Leidenschaft luul die daraus

entspringende Handhmg vorzubereiten, zu luUerstützen inid

zu erhc)hen, oder for tzuf i ihren, wenn der Schauspieler oder die

Schauspieler inn den innern Drang selbst n icht mel i r auszu­

drücken vermochte ." Here Neefe puts his f inger on a very

character is t ic e lement in Benda 's monodrama technicjue,

nainely, t l ia t in cer ta in par t icular ly emotional s i tuat ions the

( le( laniat ion is to the acconipaninient of the music , an ar t is t ic

touch which does not occin a t a l l in Rousseau 's and C^oignet ' s

P\g})}(di()}}, and which should })rove f rui t ful in the fut iue.

In the same annual issue of the Thratcr Journal there is a

s in vey of the theatre in Par is dm ing the per iod January-March

1777.-- Here we read that Rousseau 's Pygtnal ioï i is on the

repei toire . Hie wri ter says that the genre which, through

Bencla 's and Brandes ' Ariadj ic , wrought a revolut ion in Cier-

many, won l i t t le support in France. I l ie Paris ians laughed

at the s ta tue which walked about in hoops (cf . Fig. 8) . He also

^vri tes that a celebrated French actor , who had been given a

t ranslat ion of Ariacbic , considered that the genre woidd never

be a success in France. Perhaps, he concludes, the epoch woidd

soon come to an end in (Germany too. I t is c lear that the

ar t ic le f i l led the success- intoxicated Benda with wrath, for

in the fol lowing issue of the Theater Journal he hastens to

answer the cr i t ic ism.- ·^ I t is r idiculous to conclude, wri tes

Benda, that the epoch of monoclrama wil l sc:)on be over in

( ierman\ s imj^ly because Pygmalion was not to the tas te of

the French. I he actor who had l)een cjuotecl ought not to

ha\e judged Ariadne af ter a s ingle reading and comparison

with Pygmalion. Ariadne had won popidar a})provaI and in

P>erl in a lone had been performed 30 t imes. Frenchmen who

had seen i t in (Germany also agreed that i t was a f ine produc­

t ion and i t had actual ly been perfc:>i-mecl in the French theatre

in Berl in . And, asks Benda rhetor ical ly , has Medea been less

successful than Ariadne} And even supposing i t to be t rue

that other a t tempts af ter Ariadne and Medea had been less

ha])py, is th is the faidt of the genre?

l^>enchi was r ight as far as Ciermany was concerned, for the

t ime of monoclrama was not yet ] )as t and the cr i t ical voices

ceased to be heard. But in Paris , wl iere his Ariadne was played

in 1781 a t the (Àomédie I ta l ienne, the recept ion was consider­

ably less enthusiast ic . -^ In the Mereure de France of 23 July

1781 monoclrama is cr i t ic ized as a genre; i t is sa id to be mono­

tonous and too restr ic ted in i ts character . I t ] )a ints only one

dramatic s i tuat ion, one pict ine—and people do not go to the

theatre for the sake of a s ingle picture , they w^ant to see a

whole gal lery. The words are condemned as mediocre and

lacking in any l i terary cjual i ty . The declamation destroys the

music , for the composer does not have the opport t ini ty to

develop a musical theme.

During the per iod from 1775 to about 1790 some 30 mono-

dramas were ])erformecl in Germany.- ·" ' A large col lect ion is

j ) reservecl in the Hessische Landesbibl iothek in Darmstadt . -^ '

AVHien s tudying these monodramas that fol lowed in the wake

of Ariadne one has to admit the just ice of the French cr i t ic ' s

remarks on the narrow scope of the genre. Nei ther the words,

nor the music , nor the direct ions for movements and panto­

mimic act ion give any proof of new ar t is t ic advances beyond the

creat ions of Benda and Brandes. I t must , how^ever , be admit ted

that in some cases the mtis ic is of very good qual i ty and has

interest ing detai ls .Mozart , who had seen Seyler ' s t roupe

performing in Mannheim in 1778, was great ly fascinated

by the effects wii ich could be achieved with the monoclrama

technicjue. He wri tes to his fa ther that he thinks so highly

of Benda 's two monodramas that he always carr ies them about

Avith h im. He himself is sa id to have wri t ten a monoclrama,

Semirainis , to a text by von Gemmingen, but unfortunately

this has never been recovered.- · '^

I t is par t ic idar ly with regard to the range of motifs of the

meagre texts that the monotony is not iceable . The tragic

heroines of c lass ical mythology dominate in these monodramas:

Ariadne, Medea, Dido, Sophonis l )a , Niobe, e tc . The mono-

dramas have the a i r of monologues of lamentat ion, detached

from some lost ant ic jue t ragedy. They al together lack the f i rm

core and s t rength of pure drama, bt i t i t was precisely for this

reason that they ap])ealed to contemporary tas te . I t was not

in order to der ive nourishment for the soul and the intel lect

that people went to the theatre a t that t ime, bt i t to get s t imula-

ion for their a l ready over-s t imulated emotions and nerves.

Reichardt , for examj^le , wri tes as fol lows of his react ions to

Ariadne:- ·^ "Die Ouvertüre hub an und nun stel l te ich mich

in Posi tur , inn zu beobachten; a l )er schon des Vorhangauf­

ziehens war ich mir , hingerissen durch unausprechl ich herr­

l iche Ouvei türe , kaum hal l ) bewusst ; so w^ar das Stück zu

Ende, tuul ich s tand von namenlosen Gefühlen durchdrungen,

I l in und hergewoiven, meiner selbst unbewusst , wie ange­

zaubert da ." Anotl ier Cfernian composer te i ls how he burst

into tears during a performance ol Ariadne and was obl iged

to leave the theatre . ·^ · '

As Veen points out , another reason lor the success ol the

genre was that i t gave ta lented amateins who lacked suf i ic ient

\ocal resources lor opera the opportuni ty to appear in a work

ol musical drama. I t is s igni i icant that the works of both

Benda and his imitators were publ ished in piano versions,

o l ten innnediately af ter they had been performed on the

s tage. Nevertheless the pr incipal reason why so advanced a

theatr ical experiment as monodrama achieved a cer ta in meastne

ol j : )ubl ic success was that i t offered the actors an opport tui i ty

to shine as solo i jerformers , to act to the top of their bent ;

everybody spoke about Mme. Brandes ' Ariadne and Mme.

Seyler ' s Medea.

Monodrama was mainly an innovat ion in the sphere of

musical technic]ue. As a by-product we have observed the

at temj) ts to reform cost t ime in the spir i t of neoclassicism and

a tendency on the par t of both actors and audience to ap­

preciate in this type of drama, above al l , the possibi l i ty i t

j ) roviclecl of expressing emotions of high t ragedy in pantomime

and declamation. There were, however , two monodramas w^hich

were media for more special ized experiments . One of these

is J . F. Goz 's Lcnardo und Blandinc, the other is Goethe 's

Proserpina. Ihey appeared at about the same t ime, but are

lunclamental l ) different f rom each other , both in a im and in

form. Ί hey have not hitherto received the attention they

deserve, perhaps because they did not play a part in the

historical development of the theatre. They are highly per ­

sonal , self-suff ic ient works, and const i tute fascinat ing evidence

of the contemjX)rary search for new means of ex})ression. They

also possess topical i ty as paral le ls to the exj)er imental theatre

of our own t ime.

In order to understand | . F. Cioz 's work i t is necessary to

know^ something of his l i fe as re la ted by him in the autobio-

gra j : )hy publ i shed in Regensb in ;g in 1791: Selbsge f i i J i l und

Et ï ip j ind i ingen bey meinen Abgang vo j i M inn hen den S ten

Jeuer zu Die iner und meiner Freunde Beruhigung . The

t i t le i tsel i s l iows that the book is inteiulecl as an apologia .

(»(•) / had been expel led i ioni Munidi lor being a freemason

and lor i is ing false t i t les ("von" and "baron") . He sets out

to refute both accusat ions by te l l ing the s tory of his l i fe .

He was born in Austr ia in 1754, his fa ther being in the

Imperial army. He was educated a t a boarding school . He

descr ibes how he dis l iked the mechanical teaching methods

and tel ls us that he was far f rom being a good pupi l and

had to undergo varicjus ptni ishments . Bt i t he was not t roubled

by these piui ishments; on the contrary he welcomed them,

especial ly i f they took the form of confinement to his room.

In his sol i tude he was able to think in freedom and devote

himself to his favoini te reading—books about holy men, above

al l hermits . He dreamed about the beaut i ful forests which

he saw depicted in the i lhis t ra t ic : )ns in these books, which were

probably in the s tyle of Sadeler ' s hermit ser ies . Such pict ines

cer ta inly helped to feed ( ioz 's morbid and inf lamed imagina­

t ion. He also te l ls us that while a t school he had a great

ta lent for imitat ing the xoices and gest tnes of o ther people ,

and that he was always asked to play the leading roles in the

school comedies . At one t ime he managed a marionet te theatre ,

an imderstanding teacher helping him with mater ia ls and

money. Bt i t th is act i \ i ty came to a sudden end when the

thea t re burs t in tc3 f l ames d in ing a per lo rmance of Doktor

Faust us . Every year during Lent he played the pr incipal par t

in the j) lays which were put on at the school ; he sang, danced

and declaimed, and was overwhelmed with ]) ia ise . He was also

one of the caste when t l ie school performed at the Imperial

court .

At the age of 18, G Ö Å te l ls us , he lef t school and went to

Vienna to become an off ic ia l , a career for which he himself

fe l t no vocat ion and aclojHecl only to please his fa ther . He

was drawn towards ar t and science, and his sympathet ic

superior advised Ihm to s tudy these mat ters during his spare

t ime. He got permission to vis i t the Academy of Art ; but a

more important factor in his development was his f r iendship

with a Herr Arnold, a reader in anatomy, l li is man l ived

wil l i Ci( · ) / for a t ime and introduced him to the subject of

anatomy. Rccause d 'y/ , was unable to a t tend the regular in­

s t ruct ion ovvino to his work Arnold e \en brought home parts

o i corpses . ( ιΓ)/ wri tes : "I ol ten recal l the del ight lul hoins

that \ve spent together s tudying l i ie corpse. 1 had cjuickly

overcome the unreasonable tear ol dead bodies and was soon

attracted by the s ight oi a head detached from the body; the

s tudy oi the " rotenko]:) len" was a true experience ior me.

1 learned about the nuiscles and their at tachments and noted

the vai ious e l lects which coidd be achieved even on the l i fe less

head by the movement oi the muscles . From the beauti lul

iorm ol t l ie nuisc les 1 learned to know their i unc t ions. In

this way I was able to give an image to this or that character

ol which 1 l iad read in some book or had conjured t ip in

my imagination." He also writes : " i t is s trange that ever s ince

chi ldhood 1 had been drawn tc^ and had seen human su i ter ing

and di i ierent ways ol dying; i t i s a valuai^le thing to be

present at deathbeds, lor the imagination is puri f ied, lhat

which art lovers consider beauti ful 1 have lef t as ide; everyone

must fol low his own way."

After his father ' s death Göz was a t las t able to devote him­

self ent i re ly to ar t . He decided to go to France bt i t se t t led

down in Munich in 1779. Here he got several commissions

for portrai ts and worked on a his tory paint ing in oi l . But

what he himself considered most important was his work on

a ser ies of " le idenschaft l icher Progressionen", drawn under the

inspirat ion of Binder 's poem Lcnardo inul BUuicl ine which he

turned into a short dramatic scene in monoclrama form. In

1780 he went to Augsburg where he became the director of

an amateur theatre and worked on the publ icat ion of the

drawings for Loiardo und Blaudi i ic . /Vfter some years he

returned to Munich. A journey around the world was pro­

jected and he was invi ted to join i t in the capaci ty of ar t is t .

In order to accustom himself to l iving without his usual c i rc le

of accjuaintances he ret i red from social l i fe and never appeared

in publ ic excejH at the theatre . 1 his conduct gave r ise to

sus]) ic ion and he was accused of f reemasonry and of using

false t i t les . Ihe authori t ies a lso dug up the performance of

Lcnardo ut id BUnidiuc, which had already caused a minor

s torm on moral groimds when presented in the theatre in

A i i i n i c h . T h e r e s i i k w a s t h a t G ö z w a s f o r c e d t o g o i n t o e x i l e .

H e d i e d a t R e g e n s b u r g i n 1 H 1 5 .

T h e n i o n o c h a n i a Lciuirdo inid Blaudi i ie w a s n o t w r i t t e n

d i r e c t l y l o r t h e s t a g e i n c o l l a b o r a t i c ^ n w i t h a c o m p o s e r , a n d i t

i s k n o w n t o p o s t e i i t y n o t m a i n l y t h r o u g h t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f

t e x t a n d s c o r e a n d t h r o u g h l e x i e w s a n d m a t e r i a l i n t h e r e c o r d s ,

b u t t h r o u g h a b o o k w h i c h ( i c ) / p u l ) l i s h e d i n A u g u s t 1 7 8 3 u n ­

d e r t h e t i t l e : Versuch cnwr zai i lrci( i icn Folge Icidcnschaj t -

l ic f icr Eri twürjc für cni}pj indsmtie Kunst- und ScJiauspiel-

j r cundc . I h i s b o o k i s i n l a r g e o c t a v o f o r m a t a n d c o n s i s t s o f

2 2 9 j x i g e s o f t e x t a n d 1 6 0 s h e e t s o f e t c h i n g s . B o t h i n t h e

l ^ r e l a c e a n d i n t l i e t e x t G ö z i s a t p a i n s t o e x p l a i n t h e i n t e n ­

t i o n o f t h e w o r k , w h i c h i s t o g i v e i n w o r d s a n d p i c t u r e s a pre­

sen ta t ion o f t he ex te rna l s igns o f t he human a f f ec t ions . B u t

h i s a i m i s n o t t o g i v e a c o m p l e t e s y s t e m o f g e s t i c u l a t i o n b t i t

m e r e l y t o p r o v i d e a g u i d e t o e n a b l e a r t i s t s a n d a r t l o v e r s t o

i m p r o v e t l i e i r p e r s o n a l p o w e r s o f o b s e r v a t i o n a n d t h e i r e m o ­

t i o n a l s e n s i b i l i t y . H i s p o i n t o f d e p a r t t u e i s t l i e w i s h e x p r e s s e d

b y S u l / e r i n h i s Al lgen ie i f io i Theor ie der schch ien Küns te f o r

a s c i e n t i f i c s t u d y o f t h e e m o t i o n s t h r o u g h a n n o t a t e d i l h i s t r a -

t i o n s . · ^ ^ H e a g r e e s w i t h S u l / e r ' s r e m a r k t h a t i t n u i s t b e p o s ­

s i b l e t o d o t h i s i n t h e s a m e w a y a s s c i e n t i s t s d e s c r i b e t h e i r

o b s e r v a t i o n s . " - C i ö z t a k e s u p a n e n t i r e l y i n d e p e n d e n t a t t i t u d e

t o w a r d s i l i e t a s k ; u n l i k e h i s ] ) r e c l e c e s s o r s i n t h e f i e l d h e d o e s

n o t ] ) r o j K 3 s e t o t a k e up t h e v a r i o u s p a s s i c ^ n s i n t i n n a n d p r o v i d e

e a c h o n e w i t h a c o r r e s p o n d i n g p h y s i c a l e x p r e s s i o n . A V l i a t i s

h i s c i n a t i n g i s t o r e g i s t e r t h e n u a n c e s i n t h e f e e l i n g s a n d t h e

t r a n s i t i o i r s l ) e t w e e n t h e m ; b u t , h e w r i t e s , i t i s p r e c i s e l y t h i s

c a p l i \ a t i n g s u c c e s s i o n w h i c h i s s o d i l f i c u l t t o l e c o r c l . A t f i r s t

l i e I i a d t h o u g h t o f r e p r e s e n t i n g s u c h s h i f t i n g s c a l e s o f f e e l i n g

o n a n e i u r a l f i g u r e i n c l i l f e r e n t s e r i e s o f d r a w i n g s . B u t o n e

d a y w h i l e h e w a s t a k i n g a w a l k i n t h e s i n i o i m d i n g s o f M u n i c h ,

B i i r g e r ' s j ) o e m Lenardo u j id B land ine h a p p e n e d t o e n t e r h i s

t h o u g h t s . I t i n f l a m e d h i s i m a g i n a t i o n t o s u c h a d e g r e e t h a t ,

a l o n e a s h e w a s , h e b e g a n t o d e c l a i m t l i e ] ) o e m w i t h a p ­

p r o p r i a t e g e s t i i i d a t i o n s . O n r e t i u n i n g h o m e h e s a t d o w n a t

h i s d r a w i n g b o a r d a n d j ) i e p a r e d a s e r i e s o f d r a w i n g s o f t h e

m i m i c p i c t u r e s w h i c l i l i a d b e e n c o n j u i e d u | ) i n h i s i m a g i n a ­

t i o n d i n i n g t l i e w a l k . I n h i s a u t o b i o g r a p h y G ( " ) z h a s a s o m e ­

w h a t c l i i f e r e i U v e r s i o n o t t h e o r i g i n s o f t h e w o r k , f o r h e w r i t e s

t h e r e t h a t h e h a d b e g u n o n i t w i i i l e s t i l l i n V i e n n a , w ^ i t h

ß ü r g e r ' s p o e m a s a b a s i s . A r t - l o v i n g f r i e n d s w h o s a w t h e d r a w ­

i n g s e n c o i n a g e d ( i ö z t o c o n t i n u e h i s w o r k . S o o n t h e p o e m w ^ a s

d i \ i d e d i n t o d r a m a t i c s c e n e s ; t h e d r a w i n g s f o r t h e s t i c c e s s i v e

j ) h a s e s o f t h e d e v e l o p m e n t f i l l e d 1 6 0 s h e e t s t o f o r m a c o n ­

t i n u o u s s t o r y . T h e N a t i o n a l I h e a t r e i n M u n i c h e x p r e s s e d a

w i s h t o p u t o n t h e p l a y a n d P e t e r v o n A V i n t e r w a s c o n n i i i s -

s i o n e d t o c o m } ) o s e t h e m u s i c .

T h e p l a y w a s f i r s t p e r f o r m e d o n 2 5 J t m e 1 7 7 9 . ' ^ ^ I t w ^ a s

n o t i c e d i n t h e Baiersche Bey t rage , ^ - ^ b u t t h e r e v i e w i s b r i e f

a n d t e l l s t i s v e r y l i t t l e . A l t h o u g h i n t h e s a m e i s s u e o f t h e

n e w s p a p e r t h e a t i t h o r r e v i e w s Ar iadne on Naxos ( w h i c h h a d

b e e n p e r f o r m e d o n 2 7 M a y ) , i t i m f o r t u n a t e l y d o e s n o t o c c i u ^

t o h i m t o m a k e a n y c o m p a r i s o n b e t w e e n t h e t w o w o r k s . H e

w r i t e s t h a t t h r o u g h o u t G c ) z h a s f o l l o w e d B i i r g e r ' s p o e m , b u t

h e d o e s n o t e n t e r i n t o t h e i n t e r e s t i n g d r a m a t u r g i c a l p r o b l e m s

t h a t a r e i n v o l v e d . T h e p r i n c i p a l r o l e w ^ a s j ) l a y e d b y M m e .

H e i g e l a n d t h e r e v i e w e r t h i n k s t h a t t h i s m u s t b e c o u n t e d

a m o n g h e r b e s t i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s . H e j ) a r t i c t d a r l y p r a i s e s t h e

j ^ a n t o m i m e a n d t h e p a i n t e r l y a t t i t t i d e s . · " ^ ^ T h e d e c o r , t o o , i s

t o h i s l i k i n g , t h o u g h h e d o e s n o t d e s c r i b e i t i n d e t a i l . C o n ­

c e r n i n g t h e l i g h t i n g i n t h e b e d c h a m b e r s c e n e h e t e l l s t i s t h a t

i t w a s s o s t r o n g a s t o b e a l m o s t d a z z l i n g , b u t a s t h e e f f e c t w a s

g r e a t h e w o i d d n o t d e s i r e i t t o b e o t h e r w i s e . F i n a l l y , t h e

r e v i e w e r e x p r e s s e s a w i s h t h a t t h e d r a w i n g s w h i c h h e h a s

h e a r d t h a t G o z h a s m a d e o f t h e m o s t i n t e r e s t i n g p o s i t i o n s

s h o u l d b e p u b l i s h e d .

( i o z , h o w e v e r , d i d n o t i n n n e d i a t e l y t a k e u { ) t h i s s u g g e s t i o n ,

f o r i n t h a t y e a r o n l y t h e t e x t o f t h e p l a y a n d a p i a n o f o r t e

v e r s i o n w e r e } ) u b l i s h e d . H e t e l l s u s t h a t a f t e r t h e p e r f o r m a n c e

o f t h e p l a y a t t h e t h e a t r e h e d e d i c a t e d h i s " m o s t s e n s i t i v e

h o u r s " t o w o r k i n g o v e r t h e d r a w i n g s . A f t e r h a v i n g a n a l y s e d

a l l t h e m o v e m e n t s w h i c h t h e y c o n t a i n e d w i t h a e s t h e t i c f e e l i n g

h e t r i e d t o [ p r o v i d e t h e w h o l e w o r k w i t h e x p l a n a t i o n s . H e h a d ,

h o w e v e r , m o v e d t o A u g s b i n g , a n d t h e r e w a s e n c o u r a g e d b y

t h e p r e s i d e n t o f t h e i m p e r i a l A c a d e m y , H e r r v o n H e r z b e r g ,

t o e t c h h i s d r a w i n g s a n d p u b l i s h t h e m , t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e

t e x t o f t h e p l a y , h i s c o m m e n t s a n d h i s r e f l e c t i o n s o n a r t .

CJÖZ w r i t e s \ e i y l i t t l e o n n i o n o c l i a i n a a s a f o r m a n d d o e s n o t

m e n t i o n a n y s j ^ e c i a l m o n o d i a m a j ) e r l o r m a n c e , b u t h i s w o r k

o n H i n g e r ' s p o e m i s e v i d e n c e o i h i s g r e a t l a i t h i n t h e g e n r e .

1 h e c o n t e n t o l t h e p o e m i s a s i o l l o w s :

l i landinc, most l^cautiiul of princesses, spurns all her noble suitors and prefers to all their \alual)le gifts a simple rose jjresented to her by the most handsome of her father's serving men, the young gardener Lenardo. Ί he two meet in the castle grounds and ßlandine gives Lenardo an aj^ple in which she has concealed a love letter. In this she asks him to meet her in the garden at midnight. He is hesitant, but comes at the agreed time and is led by her through a secret path, past sleeping forms, to her chamber in a deserted, half-ruined summerhouse. Ί he couple have, however, been seen by a

Spanish prince, one of Blandine's suitors. I he prince hastens to the

king and, inflamed by jealousy, relates what he has seen. Ihe king-

is greatly disturbed and the two men go at once to the simmier-

house. Ihey watch outside Blandine's door and witness her con­versation with Lemiiclo, which is maiidy al)out the fatal difference in rank between them. Blandine seeks to conxince Lenardo that this is of no importance—"(^ome, my husband", she says, giving him the kiss of betrothal. Soon the lovers are overcome by feelings of cliscjuiet: Lenardo thinks that he can hear the swallow which heralds the morning but Blandine, wishing to detain him, tries to con\ince him that it is the nightingale they can hear. At last they have to part, but Lenardo promises to return the following night. He goes, but as soon as he steps outside he is nuirdered by the king and the prince. Lhe following evening Blandine lies in an imeasy sleep troubled by dreanrs portending misfortune. At midnight three junkers enter her chamber. The first, dressed in a black veil and deep mourning, holds a torch in one hand and in the other a dish in which there lies a broken ring. The second is clad in purple and carries a golden vessel with a handle and a cover sealed with the royal seal. 1 he third jiuiker is dressed in siher and carries a letter. Lhe })rincess breaks open the seal and reads of Lenarclo's \ iolent

death. She laints, but when after a l ime she rises her mind has given way. She believes that it is her wedding clay and begins to sing and dance a macal)re dance of death. She falls again to the floor, but rouses herself sufficiently to take in her arnrs the vessel containing Lenarclo's heart; she wee})s blood and soon falls dead. The king comes in with the prince; he is seized with rage and

despair, accuses the prince of treachery, and nuirclers him.

l U i i g e r t o o k t h e t h e m e f o r t h e j ) o e n i f r o m a n o l d I t a l i a n

s t o r y , (Ui i scdn lo (Did I j i i t t h e p o e m c l e a r l y s h o w s

t h e a u t h o r ' s e n t h u s i a s m f o i S h a k e s p e a r e . Ί h e p a r t i n g o f L e -

i iarclc) a iul ßlandine seems lo be ins]) i iecl by ihe balcony s tene

in Romeo ( ind Jul ir t^ aiul the \erses whic h te l l o l Bhincl ine s

death s t ruggle eci io Ophel ia 's inachiess . i t was ])recisely these

two Shakespearian scenes t l ia t ( io/ took as a s tar t ing [)oint

lor his chaniat i /a t ion; they provided him with sui table raw

mater ia l ior a dej) ic t ion ol r is ing and ta i l ing scales o i emo­

t ion. Foi ( .0 / t i ie diawings, not the dramatizat ion, Avere the

pr imaiy concern, but i t is e \ ident that he real ized a t an ear ly

s tage that there was mater ia l here which could be used ior

dramatic pinposes . A part ing scene between two lovers , a

woman's yearnings and her death s t ruggle , these cer ta inly

pro\ ided him λνίΐ ΐ ι an assoc iat ion with the lashionable }^lciy

ot the moment, Anacbic on Xaxos. Monodrama was the only

dramatic genie in ^vl i ich he would be able to real ize his

dreams ol v isual iz ing the external s igns ol mental s tates . He

wii tes {W ' ïSHcii . . pp. 'Ίηοηοάταηκι niay be regarded

(IS (ui ar t i j ie i(d so lo nui t iber lohieJt g ix>es the ar t i s t an op ­

portuni ty to demonstrate the creseendo of Jus art . But, he

cont inues, the players too oi ten repeat their movements; they

gest ic idate even in a manner contrary to the émett ions ex-

j)ressed in the words and there is a lack of cc3nnect ion with

t l ie movements which accompany the musical inter ludes.

] he play begins with a pantomimic scene between the king

and the pr ince cle}) ic t ing the emotions of wrath and jealousy. ·^ '

Ci()z descr ibes the set t ing thus: the moon shines over a garden

with col innns and ruins of an abandoned cast le , on the r ight

in the foreground is an i ron door . Lenardo and ßlandine enter

through t l ie door with their arms aroimd each other 's necks,

the king and the pr ince conceal themselves behind a bush.

The dialogue consis ts of luif inished sentences and the exchange

about the swal low and the night ingale . At las t the two lovers

tear themselves away from each other , Blancl ine re t inning

through the door to l ier chamber . As IxMiardo s tands there

a lone the king and the pr ince rush lorvvard and ki l l h im;

a s i lent scene concludes this short l i rs t act . Ihe second act

is p layed in lUancl ine 's bedchamber. Ci()z descr ibes the decor

in the fol lowing wc:)rcls : Ihe intér ieur ol an alcove with high

( .othic colunms and windows, on one s ide in the loreground

a couch with chaj)er ies , two lamps binning on low^ colunms

w h i c h t h r o w a s t r o n g l i g h t u p w a r d s t o w ^ a r d s t h e b e d - c a n o p y ,

a n o r n a m e n t e d t a b l e o f s t o n e . A t t h e b a c k o F t h e a l c o v e i s

a n o p e n i n g I r o n i t h e m i d d l e o f w h i c h h a n g s a c h a n d e l i e r w h i c l i

t h r o w s l i g h t o v e r a h i g h d o o r i n t h e b a c k g r o u n d . B l a n d i n e

i s r e s t i n g o n t h e b e d . " L e n a r d o , w ' h e r e a r t t h o t i , c o m e , c o m e " ;

t h u s B l a n d i n e b e g i n s h e r m o n o l o g u e . T h e m i d n i g h t h o u r i s

a t h a n d b u t L e n a r d o h a s n o t y e t c o m e . S h e r e c a l l s i n h e r

m e m o r y a l l t h e t i m e s s h e h a s s e e n h i m i n t h e b e a t i t i f i d g a r d e n

a t s u n r i s e . λ \ h e n s h e s w o r e t o b e e t e r n a l l y f a i t h f i d t o h i m

s h e r e n o u n c e d b o t h c r o w n a n d r i c h e s . H a s h e a l r e a d y f o r g o t t e n

h e r ? M i d n i g h t c o m e s , h e r a n x i e t y i n c r e a s e s , a s t o r m b r e a k s -

h a s h e l o s t h i s w a y ? T h e r e h a s b e e n n o n i g h t l i k e t h i s s i n c e

h e r m o t h e r ' s d e a t h . S h e w a n t s t o g o o u t t o l o o k f o r h i m .

F r o m t h i s p o i n t o n w a r d s t l i e p l a y d e p a r t s f r o m t h e Ariadne

j ^ a t t e r n . G ö z u s e s t h e e l l e c t i v e s c e n e w i t h t h e t h r e e j t m k e r s ,

a n d t h e m a d s c e n e f o l l o w s B ü r g e r ' s b a l l a d , t h o u g h t h e r e

a r e c e r t a i n a d d i t i o n s w i t h i n t h e g i \ e n f r a m e w o r k . T h e p l a y

e n d s w i t h a c k m i b s h o w s c e n e w h e n t h e k i n g h a s k i l l e d t h e

p r i n c e a n d s t a n d s i n u t t e r d e s p a i r , s u r r o u n d e d b y h i s f o l ­

l o w e r s .

A t a p i ^ r o j ^ r i a t e p a r t s i n t h e t e x t o f t h e p l a y n u m e r a l s f r o m

1 t o i ( ) o r e l e r t o t h e c o r r e s p o n d i n g n i n i i b e r i n g o f t h e e t c h i n g s

a n d c o m m e n t s ( w h i c h c o m p r i s e p a g e s 1 1 0 - 2 2 0 o f t h e b o o k ) .

G ö z a d m i t s t l i a t i ( ) o a c t i n g m o m e n t s a r e o b v i o u s l y i n s u f -

l i c i e n t t o s h o w a l l v a r i a t i o n s i n j ^ o s t i n e s a n d e x p r e s s i o n s ; f o r

t h i s m o r e t h a n 5 0 0 w o u l d h a v e b e e n r e q u i r e d . N e v e r t h e l e s s

t h e w o r k b e g i n s w i t h a s u p e r a b u n d a n c e o f s u c h m o m e n t s a n d

i f ( i ö z h a d c o n t i n u e d w i t h t h e s a m e t h o r o u g h n e s s t h e n i u n b e r

o f d r a w i n g s w o u l d c e r t a i n l y h a v e f a r e x c e e d e d 5 0 0 . B u t f r o m

F i g . 5 2 h e a l t e r s h i s m e t h o d . H e w r i t e s i n t h e c o m m e n t a r y

t h a t h e i s a f r a i d t h a t t h e r e a d e r w i l l b e p u t o f f b y t h e d i f -

f i c i d t y o f d i s t i n g u i s h i n g t h e v e r y f i n e n u a n c e s . T h e r e f o r e f r o m

F i g . 5 2 h e g i v e s o n l y t h e m o r e o b v i o u s c h a n g e s i n a t t i t u d e a n d

m i m e . F o r t h e i n t e r v e n i n g s t i l l f i n e r n u a n c e s t h e r e a d e r s h o u l d

r e f e r t o t h e m a t e r i a l w h i c h h a s a l r e a d y l ) e e n p r e s e n t e d . W i t h

t h e a i d o f t h i s i t s h o u l d b e p o s s i b l e f o r h i m t o h a v e b e c o m e

s o i a m i h a r w i t h t h e a u t h o r ' s m e t h o d t h a t a c o m p a r a t i v e p r e ­

s e n t a t i o n w i l l n o t b e d i f f i c u l t t o u n d e r s t a n d .

O n t h e f o l l o w i n g p a g e s a r e r e p r o d u c e d s o m e c h a r a c t e r i s t i c

6o

s p e c i m e n s ο ί G i r / m e t h o d , s e l e c t e d a s b e i n g i e } ) r e s e n t a t i v e o l

t h e w o r k a s a w h o l e . H i s f i g s . 1 2 - 1 4 w i t h t h e i r c o m m e n t s a r e

t a k e n f r o m t l i e i n t r o d u c t o r y p a r t i n g s c e n e . F i g s . 3 5 t o 3 8 a r e

I r o m t h e b e g i n n i n g o f B l a n d i n e ' s m o n o l o g u e , b e f o r e s h e h a s

r e c e i v e d t h e d r e a d f t d m e s s a g e . F i g s . 1 1 4 , 1 1 5 a n d 1 4 0 , 1 4 1 a r e

e x t r a c t s f r o m t h e d e j e c t i o n o f t h e t w o d i f f e r e n t s t a g e s i n

B l a n d i n e ' s b r e a k d o w n . F i g . 1 5 ^ ^ i s f r o m t h e c o n c h i d i n g s c e n e ,

w i t h t h e k i n g s i i r r o i u u l e d b y h i s e n t o t i r a g e , a f t e r h e h a s k i l l e d

t h e p r i n c e ( o i i r \ ψ . 6 1 - 7 0 , o u r F i g s . 1 2 - 2 3 ) .

Fig. 12 [our f ig . 12]

Fiilst nicht meine Sensucht und Liebe?

Die Sti i iHi îc erhebt s ich nachdrüki icher bei folgender Stel le , und drükt s ich in dem Worte Sensucht mer , und noch mer in Liebe aus. BLANDINE, etwas unzufr idner , das der ungekünstel te ers te Angrif weibl ichen Reizes in voriger Stel le nicht vermochte che Blike ihres Gel iebten auf s ich zu loken, versucht e inen zweiten, dem er weniger auszuweichen vermag, da s ie seine Hand ίπι ihren klopfenden Busen

drükt . Auge und Mund erscheinen unter diesem Verhäl tnisse we­niger f reudig, da die gewönlich in Freude wirkenden Augen und Mundnuiskln in ihren ange]x)rnen Bewegungen nachgelassen haben. LKNARDO st renget seine Kräf te gegen diesen mächt igern Ansal müsa-mer an, daher die festgeschlosneren Lippen, und die Nachdenken äusernden Augenheder gespanter erscheinen. Die Lage der Füse scheint zu plözl icher Losreifung geschikt , wärend der obere Tei l seines Körpers noch fest an seiner Gel iebten haf te t .

Fig. 13 [our f ig . 13]

LEN. Owe! Schreken überfält mich! Plözl ich hat s ich unter Zweifel und Kam})fe seines Herzens der

erschüt ternde ( iedankc an die Folgen des Schri t tes , wovon er eben zurükkert , bemeister t . Die seine Verbindung des Blutumlaufes mit den Gedanken is t dadurch pl t iz l ich mit ungewönlicher Schneikraf t (hnxh die Ciefäse ans Herz gedrängt worden, dies veranlast , wie bei iedem k()rper l ic l ien Schmerze, e ine Odemstokung, welche, nach dem Verhäl tnis der Frschüt terung mit den kcirper l ichen Kraf ten, mer oder weniger anhal tend is t . In gegenwärt igem Fal le is t s ie nur augen-bl ikhch. worauf der ge()fnete Mund deutet . Die le idende Anstren­gung der Augbraunen is t in dergleichen Umständen genau nnt der Mundbewegung verknüpfet , beweglichere Nasencifnungen dehnen sich bei solchen Cielegenhei ten gleichfals , und der sei twärts ger ichtete

6 i

mc/i f - t tuune » ^c / in .uicl f - mw le I c f

Fig. 12.

)cr onuf, o iccn rr.r cr'^û/in

^Vh. vsfiJ;

• ^ % Sx

•» i ' i t : ( ) u- i 'Å · ̂t / i r fLt ' i i u / 'o f i t j / nuc/ t

Fig. 13·

•|; ϋ·

.#^4 -jui

'Ί I f , t ί !*'> 4 ' ί . . ,

j i :mâ .3V-.

. a:/ X /

fk ' ":rK^·

#4 ΐ

Fig. 14. Fig. 15.

Figs. 12-23. J. F. von Göz. Scenes from Lenardo und Blandïne.

i iuir .

itiu'Ii tHocJx^eithecJwr mit ^lut qejxilU i: Hriu/hi^u/n i l t er , tr / i Inn jc t tw Leruul ·

Fig. 20. Fig. 21.

i i /nntc/ wu' c / '«V// /

Fig. 23.

Körper, saml der mil Erhebung des Kopies empor getrieljnen Hrust, belVirdeni sciii iel und unwilkiirlic h die geliemte Respirazion. Daher wird der Ausrul () we! unter einem schnellen und gedrängten Odem-/uge aus der Brust geprest. In soiern dieser Ion mit Durchdrungen­heit erreicht wird, ergibt sich die Warheit des Ions tür die iol-genden 3 Worte von selbst, indem sie luiter Loslassung des schnel-gescluipiten Odems heischer lauten. HLANDIM·: , ΛΟΗ dem Anteil i i ir

ihren (beliebten erii i lt, lolgt mit wemütiger Besorgnis seiner Bewe­gung, der etwas geöinte Mund sc heint /u fragen : Was widerlai t dir so plözlich, Cieliebter? Die Richtung der linken Hand ist der Frage, und der Bereitwilligkeit zu hellen, eigen. Im erstem Falle scheint sie mir unter die wilkiirlich angenommenen Bewegungen, im zweiten aber unter die unwilkihlichen zu gehören. Da die Hände in \ ielen Fällen tätige Werkzeuge des Schuzes und der (iegenwehr bei k()rperlic hen Leiden sind, so sc heint nn'rs natin lic h, das unser Wille sie oit unwilkürlich nach ienen Punkten dirigirt, wo wir Uei)eln abzuhelsen geneigt sind.

r^ig. 14 [our lig. 14]

Wens den König, o wenn ers erfüre!

In diesen Worten entwikelt sich der (irund seines Schrekens. Der Kraftton kan hier el)en so warscheinlich auf das erste, als auf das 3te Wort gelegt werden, lun- mit der Beschränkung, das das W^ort

5 — 663-'()6 1 lolnis iröm

wenn entweder im Anfange oder zum zweitenmale verstärkt lauten mus Ein besondrer Druk gehört aul ()! und die ganze Rede wird in einem betäubten Tone gesprochen. Der (irund davon ligt im Ausdruke der (iesichtsstellung, welche hinstarrentl und l)etroien er­scheint. Die dal)ei vorkommende Art geschlosener Li[)pen ist der Ausdruk angemaster Krait in Leiden auszuhalten, und diese Augen-zeithrunig verät innner Anspannung der Denkkrait, welche in ihrer Wirkung die Augsterne hervorzudrängen und zu erweitern seheint. BLANDINK iült die Krait der Besorgnisse ihres Cieliebten, und ver­birgt ihr Gesicht um nicht durch Aeusrung ihrer Furcht die seinige

zu vergrösern.

l'ig· 35 [o"r fig· '5]

LENARDO! wo bist du?

Wir finden, das heftig Ί räumende gemeiniglich in dem Augen-blik erwachen, wo sie im Begrife sind ein vorzügliches Vergnügen oder Leid zu erreichen. Eine Folge der Heftigkeit ihres Blutum­laufes, wodurch der Nervenreiz und die sukzessive Verbindung der Ideen so schnei fortgetrieben werden, das dadurch eine plözliche Erschütterung der innern Kräfte entstet, welche die erschlaften 'Feile auf eiimial aus ihrer Untätigkeit weket. Durch diese Veranlassung ernunitert, rust sie behend erwachend ihrem Geliebten nn't banger Stinnne zu. Ermüdung ligt noch im leidenden Auge, die Spannung der zur Frage ausgestrekten Hand ist eine Folge des schneien Er­

wachens.

Fig. 3() [our fig. i()]

Kom, kom mit deiner Liebe.

Sie ist aus der unbekwemen SteHung der vorhergegangnen Figur gerükt, und ihre Arme öfnen sic h s( Imiac htend. als Avären sie l)ereit den (ieliel)ten zu umfangen. Stiller und schmachtender, als der Ί'οη

Aoriger Stelle, wird i lne Sprache in gegenwärtigem Zurufe klingen, weil sie seine erwünschte (iegenwart vernn'st. Auch scheint ihre Auf­merksamkeit geteilt zu sein. Der Begrif \οη Unglük, womit ihre träumende Phantasie die (iegenwart ihres (ieliebten im Schlafe begleitete, beschäftigt sie noch zu ser um sich ungestiirt der freudige­ren Empfindung zu überlassen, womit sie sich sonst sein Bild vor­stehe. Dahin zielen die etwas müsam aufgezogenen Augenlider, %vor-auf Fraurigkeit bürdet, und welche dadurch unbeAveglicher zu wer­

den scheinen.

6(i

Fig. 37 [our ϋ,ι-·. 17]

Und verscheuchc die Schicken der Nacht!

l i ier cntwikelt sich die dcuLlichcr. B L A N D I M · : wendet sich von dem I^nnkt al), wohin ihre Au^en in \()rijL>er Stelle gerich­tet waren, gleidisani als hätte sie daselbst die W'iderholung ihrer nachtlidien Sehrekenbilder ^elunden; daher ligt mer leidende Be-deutnng im Mnnde nnd in den Angen. Kin unmerkliches Aehsel-/i iken begleitet diesen Ausdriik, welches eine Folge der seuszenden l>ewegung ist, wonn't die Rede emplnnden wird. Daraus ergibt sich der Ί on λοη selbst, in welchem die Worte; X'erscheuche und: Schre-

ken gespiochen werden müssen.

Fig. 38 [our lig. 18]

O! sie war grausam!

Hier ist die, in den zwei vorigen Stellen angekündigte, Empfin­dung in dem Mittelpunkte ihrer Wirkung. BLANDIXE scheint den ganzen Umlang des Kindrukes, welcher ihre Seele träumend bewegte, wider zu liUen: daher ihre Bildung schmerzender erscheint, folglich auch ihre Rede ein voller Seuszer begleiten wird. Die F^olge des durch lebhafte \'orstellungen schneller bewegten Blutes. Die L.age der Hände deutet auf (ieistesversamlung, Nachdenken, Ueberlegung.

Fig. 114, 115 [our figs, icj, 20]

Ach dis alles weissaget Freude! Da ist auch der Hoch­zeitbecher — mit Blut gefült!

In diesem Augenblik tobt ihr Klencl wirbelnd durch ihren Kcirper, und sie fült zunemend das Abnemen seiner Kräfte. Dunkle Bilder nn't We und Frain igkeit bürden auf ihren gesc hlosneren Augen. Fntkrältet stanmielt sie denniach mit einem seufzenden Föne obige Worte aus, deren Sinn sie weder zu fassen, noch zu fülen scheint.

In diesem (iewühle von verzerenclem Klende (•)fnet sie langsam die .Augen wider, blikt seitwärts, und wird λοη neuem erschüttert. Auch diese Stelle mag Kunstverzierung des Affektes heissen, welche zu Erreic hung manic hlaltiger leidensc haftlic hen kreszirenclen Bewe-ginigen, und zu Frh()hung des Findrukes nicht überflüssig ist. BI.ANDINK k()nte eben so warsc heinlic h mit zusanmiengeschlagenen oder herabsinkenden Händen erscheinen, und deren VY^rhältnis ge­gen die Lage des übrigen K()rpers weniger zeichnerisch darstellen. Allein, wenn dem anschauenden Kunstkenner Formen vorgerükt werden kiinen, welche heftige Affekte schildern, und bei einem zier-

l ichercn (il ieclcrvcrhältii ise die (iriii izcn dci Warsclieinliclikcit nicht ii l)erircicn: so cliinki niichs hal)c der Kinisllcr Ockononiie der Cic-dankcn und (ieistesi>c^cinvart ini Strome der Leidenschalten, hieniit ein Verchenst mer, ge/eif^t. Woraus demnadi der Sa/ so mancher Schauspiler neuer(hn<>s zeriält, wekhe behaupten, es sei hinlänglich sich dem Aiiekte zu überlassen, um ri(ht!<> und scluin zu spilen. Ton und Krhel)inig der Stinnne erueben sidi aus der zurück­

schaudernden Bewegung, welche notluvenchg die lernst und die Lidt-rören irritiren, hienn't den Ton des Sdnekens λοη sell)st bi lden

mus.

Fig. 140, 141 [our l igs. 21, 22]

Mein Bräutigaam ist er, ich bin seine Braut, sein Weib vor Himmel und Erden.

Die Ilauptidee, worunter B L A N D I M . N S Kralt und Verstand, erla­gen, war ihres (ieliebten J'od, die damit verknüplten Umstände haben wie Iraumbilder unter verwornem (ieiüle ihrer Fantasie von Punkt zu I^unkt vorgeschwebt: in Träumen geschiet oit das ein und dasselbe Bild periodisch zurükkert, bis es entwetler ab-nemend erlöscht, oder durch zufällige Assosiazion von Ideen einen so gewaltigen Kinilus in den Körper ninmit, das des 1 räumende davon besonders ger int, oder erschüttert, und dadurch erwekt wird. Fl)en diese Heschal ienheit dürite nn't den Fi η bildungen wanwiziger Per­sonen Aenlichkeit haben, W^enigstens läst sich aui diese Weise einigermassen dieser regellose Bewegungstrieb in seinen Veranlaulun­gen untersuchen. BLANDINE wird neuerdings Spüren ihres enn)or-schwebenclen Cieliebten gewar, darum strekt sie die eine Hand um ihn zu erhaschen auswärts, dahin zielet ihr lest autstarrender besorg­ter Blik, dem das Schattenbild noch nicht deutlich geruig Aorzu-schweben scheint. Dieses Besorgnis wird lolglicli in der beteuren-clen Rede : mein Bräutigam ist er etc. durch einen bebenden, ol)-gleicli mit mciglicher krall ihres ermüdeten Organs ausgestosnen l 'on, l i i lbar werden, wärencler Rede wird sie einige schnelle Schritte

gehen, gleichsam als ob sie dem scliwebenden l^anlom lolgte. IM()zlich steht sie in der steiien geschmaklosen Stellinig der iji

l ' igiu' stil l , inicl scheint sich in ihres zerstreuten Ideen zu \erlieren: die gegen Himmel aulgehobne, inul gegen die Fiele in'ederzeigende Iland, kan ei)en so ser /ulal, oder X'erwunderung, als begleitende Bewegung des Siinis der gegenwärtigen Rede sein; würde aber das le/tere angenonnnen; so geh(")rte die X'eranlassung da/u dennoch immer unter die unwilkinlich entspringenden Beweginigen. Die Rede kan hier nn't eben so \ iel Warsc heiidic hkeit nac hclrüklic h, als zerstreuter laiuen. Aid leztere Art gesprochen, dürite sie ihren Zustand in diesem Augenblike mei karakterisiren, weil es dem Wan-

b8

sinne ci,L;cn ist. zuweilen bedeutende Reden in i>leieligilti<^eni Föne (und so audi im uni^ekelnlen Falle) /u sprechen.

KÖNICi. Mein Kind! mein Kind!

indem die Türe sidi phi/lidi (Wnet inid das (ielol)L>e hereindringt, sii i i /t der K(')nig \()iaus und aul die Kntielte nieder, weldie zwei Hediente zugleii h etwas von der Knie erheben; mit dem ganzen \()llen Umlange eines gemartelen Herzens ruft er: mein Kind! mein Kind! Der Prinz wendet sich im X'orgriuule sehaudernd λοη

der schreklidien (iruppe hinweg, inul einer vom Ciefolge hat das

I rauergeläs \()n der Erde gehoben. Da nun ein und der nämliehe l'all , aul \ers(hiedne Personen ganz \ers(hiednen Kinilus nemen kau, so erscheinen die Personen mer und minder geriirt. Vieleieht sind ihre Ausdrüke für \ iele zu kalt, und haben sieh zum lY'il unter dem iU'strel)en ein rembrandisirtes Blat zu versuehen ver­loren. Idi will die Kntsdieidung einsidus\ollen luul bill igen Augen überlassen, audi xon der Zusamensezung und Zergliederung der (.ruppe sdiweigen, aus Besorgnis, man möehte argwönen: als wolte idi das Hlat selbst dan als ein Muster preisen, indem ieh darinnen mein Misvergnügen über einige mislungene Teile gestehen würde. Hesdiränkiuigen, welche midi bei dem gegenwärtigen Format zu bleiben zwangen, hinderten midi die Ciränzen der Wirkiuig in An­sehung der Kontraste luid des Lichtes naeh einer greisern Idee auszulinen.

Λ i i r s t r e a d i n g o l ( » c i z ' s c o i n i n c i u s g i \ c s a \ e r y ( o i i r u s i n g

j ) i c l i n e o l h i s i i u e i i t i o n s , o w i n g t o t h e ^ v a y i n A v h i c h t h e

m a t e r i a l i s a r r a n g e d . H e b e g i n s w i t h Î i \ e d i i f e r e n t c o m p o n e n t s :

a n a l y s i s o l t h e j ) a i t , t i e a l m e n t o i t h e x o i c e , g e s t u r e s , e x p r e s ­

s i o n a n d t h e n n c l e r h i n g p h \ s i o l o g i c a l c o u r s e o l e v e n t s , l l s t i a l l y

t h e m e n t a l s t a t e i s c l e s c i i b e c l w i t h t h e l i n e s o l t h e p l a y a s t h e

s t a r t i n g p o i n t ( c i . c o m m e n t o n Cwi 'y / i i g . i . \ ) , b u t C fÖ z a l s o

a n a l y s e s e m o t i o n s ^ v h i c h h a v e a r i s e n w i t h o u t d i r e c t c o n n e c ­

t i o n w i t h t h e ^ v o r c l s ( c i . c o m m e n t o n ( f c ) / I i g . 1 2 — F ) l a n c l i n e ' s

c i i s ( p i i e t ) . ( i c " ) / h o l d s t h a t t h e e d e c t o i t h e e m o t i o n s o n a

| ) e i s o n ' s p h y s i o l o g i c a l a p p e a r a n c e l i r s t m a k e s i t s e l f f e l t i n

t h e c i i c u l a t i o n o f t h e b l o o d . T h i s i n i t s t i n i i m a y i n f l u e n c e

h i s h i e a t h i n g ( c i . c o m m e n t o n C , ö / f i g . 1 3 ) a n d m a y a l s o

a f f e c t t h e n e r \ e s ( c f . c o m m e n t on C i c " ) / f i g . 3 5 ) . I n t h i s w a y

i h c r e w i l l a r i s e d i a n g e s i n i h e \ o i ( C , t h e g e s t u r e s a n d t h e f a c e .

l U i i i m p u l s e s \ v h i ( h a t t h e b e g i n n i n g a r e p u r e l y ] ) h y s i c a l m a y

g i \ e r i s e t o m e n t a l ] ) r ( ) c e s s e s \ v h i ( h t h e n i n t h e i r t i u n t r i g g e r

( ) H ( e i t a i n m o v e m e n t s ; t h i s c a n h a p p e n i n d r e a m s ( c f . c o m ­

m e n t o n ( » ( • • ) / f i g . ^ ^ 5 ) a n d i n a m e n t a l l y d e r a n g e d j ) e r s o n ( c f .

c o n n n e n t s o n ( f Ö / f i g s , i j o , 1 j i ) . ( ΐ η / u s e s a l m o s t e x c l u s i v e l y

s u c h " u n c o n c h t i o n a l " s e c j u e n c e s o f e v e n t s , t h o s e i n d e p e n d e n t

o f t h e w ' l W . I h i s i s i n t i m e w i t h t h e n a t i n e o f t h e p l a y a n d

C . o / w a s o b v i o u s l y a t t r a c t e d t o t h e t h e m e p r e c i s e l y f o r t h a t

r e a s o n .

T h e g l e a t m a j o r i t y o f t h e d i r e c t i o n s f o r t h e \ c ) i c : e a r e

j u s t i l i e c l b y C i r ) / f r o m o b s e r v a t i o n o f t h e b r e a t h i n g i n t h e

p a r t i c u l a r m o m e n t o f t h e p l a y . H e u s e s d e s c r i p t i o n s s u c h a s

s i g h i n g , s t a n n n e r i n g a n d s i g h i n g , j ^ r e s s e d i n a t o n e o f f e a r ,

b r o k e n , w i t h o u t s t r e n g t h , m u t e d o w i n g t o t h e p r e s s i n g t o g e t h e r

o f t h e l i p s . L e s s f r e c j u e n t l y h e g i v e s d i r e c t i n s t r u c t i o n s f o r

t h e s p e a k i n g o f t h e l i n e s ( c f . c o m m e n t s o n C i c ' ) / f i g s . 1 2 a n d i . | ) .

F o r f a c i a l e \ } ) r e s s i o n C i i ) / c o n c e n t r a t e s h i s d e s c r i p t i o n s o n

c h a n g e s i n t h e e y e s . H e c o n s i d e r s t h a t t h e c h a r a c t e r o f t h e

g a z e i s d e t e i n i i n e c l e s p e c i a l l y b y v a i y i n g t h e t e n s i o n o f t h e

e y e l i d s . F o r t h e g a / e h e u s e s s u c h t e i n i s a s t e n s e d , s t a r i n g ,

d r e a d i n g t h e l i g h t , h e a v e n - t u r n e d . I t i s n o t e w o r t h y t h a t h e

v e r y s e l d o m m e n t i o n s t h e m o v e m e n t s o f t h e e y e b r o w s a n d t h e

f o r e h e a d m u s c l e s . A f t e r t h e e y e s i t i s , a c c o r d i n g t o ( » Γ ) / , t h e

m o u t h w h i c h d e t e r m i n e s t h e e x p r e s s i o n t h r o u g h t h e m u s c l e s

w h i c h t e n s e o r s l a c k e n t l i e l i p s . O n o n e o c c a s i o n h e m e n t i c : ) n s

t h e n o s t r i l s ( c f . c o n n n e n t o n C i T ) / f i g . 1 3 ) .

W i t h r e g a r d t o p o s t u r e a n d g e s t u r e s , t h e s e c a n b e s e e n i n

t h e i l l u s t i a t i o n s . I n t h e t e x t ( » ö / c o n n n e n t s a l m o s t e x c l u s i v e l y

o n t h e h a n d m o v e m e n t s , w h i c h h e c l e s c i i b e s o n t h e b a s i s o f

t h e t e r m s a t t i a c t i o n - i e p i d s i o n . Ί h e m o s t c o m m o n l v o c c i n r i n g

g e s t i u e i s " h a n d o n h e a i t " . O n o n e o c c a s i o n h e r e f e r s t o

" s h o u l d e r s d r a w n u p w a r d s o w i n g t o t h e s i g h i n g s p e e c h " ( c f .

c o n n n e n t o n ( » 0 / f i g . ^ 7 ) . A m i x e d e m o t i o n i s m a d e b y a n

a m b i v a l e n t p o s t u i e w h i c h h e d e m o n s t r a t e s i n h i s f i g . 1 2 . I h e

u | ) p e r j ) a i t o l t h e b o d y r e m a i n s i n i t s f o r m e r p o s i t i o n , t h e

f e e t p l a c e d l e a d y f o r a s u d d e n c h a n g e . I n t h e c o m m e n t s o n

h i s f i g . (q -v . ) h e c l e s c r i l ) e s t h e c o n d i t i o n o f m i x e d e m o t i o n s

e x p r e s s e d t h r o u g h f a c i a l e x p i e s s i o n .

W c s h o u l d n o t i n i a i > i n e i r o n i t h i s t h a t C i c i z ' s a p p r o a c h t o

t h e i m p e l s o n a l i o i i o l l o l e s i s e x c l u s i v e l y j ^ s y c l i o l o g i c a l a n d

m e d i c a l . A l l t h e t i m e h e i s a w a r e t h a t t h e a c t i o n m u s t b e

s c e n i i a l l y e H e ( t i \ e . 1 1 t l i e r e s h o u l d b e t w o e x p r e s s i o n s w h i c h

i n t h e m s e h e s a i e e c j u a l h t r u e i r o m a p s y c h o l o g i c a l a n d

p h y s i c a l p o i n t o l \ i e w , t h e o n e w h i c h i s t h e a t r i c a l l y t h e m o r e

a p j ^ r o p i i a t e m u s t b e u s e d ( c Γ . c o m m e n t s o n G i ' y / i i g s . 1 1 4 , 1 1 5 ) .

l i e m a k e s t h e s a m e c o m m e n t o n h i s l i g . ^ j ; B l a n d i n e i s l y i n g

o i l h e r b e d i n u n e a s y s l e e j ) ; h e r s t a t e m a k e s i t u n d e r s t a n d a b l e

t h a t s h e s l i o u l c l t w i s t a n d t u r n i n c o i n u l s i v e m o v e m e n t s , b u t

a s t h e m o n o l o g u e h a d t o d e p i c t a n a c c e l e r a t i n g e m o t i o n s u c h

v i o l e n t m o \ e m e n t s s h o u l d n o t b e s t a r t e d t o o e a r l y . N e v e r ­

t h e l e s s , w h e r e v e r i t i s a m a t t e r o i c h o o s i n g b e t w e e n w h a t i s

a e s t h e t i c a l h a t t r a c l i \ e a n d w h a t i s t r u e , ( i o / i n s i s t s t h a t t h e

e x j ) r e s s i o n w h i c h i s t r u e m u s t l ) e u s e d . W e s e e t h i s , f o r e x a m p l e ,

i n t h e n o t e t o t h e c o m m e n t o n h i s t i g . 1 5 , w h e r e h e d e f e n d s

t l i e u s e o f a p a r a l l e l p l a c i n g o f t h e a r m s . I t f i t s t h e e m o t i o n

b i u o f f e n d s a g a i n s t t h e a e s t h e t i c l a w s ; h e r e w e n o t e a n e c h o

f r o m i l o g a r t h ' s a e s t h e t i c s , i n f i g . 1 ρ ( q . v · ) h e h a s c l e l i l ) e r a t e l y

c h o s e n a n u g l y p o s i t i o n i n o r d e r t o c h a r a c t e r i / e t h e m o v e m e n t s

o f t h e d e m e n t e d g i r l . B u t C i c ) / i s n o t d o g m a t i c . I n o n e p l a c e

h e a l l o w s h a n d m o v e m e n t s w h i c h a r e a j n n e l y d e c o r a t i v e

a d o r n m e n t t o a n o t h e r w i s e m o t i o n l e s s m o n o t o n e p o s i t i o n ; s u c h

" p a i n t i n g " g e s t i u e s m u s t , h e e m p h a s i z e s i n a n o t e , l ) e m a d e

j ) r e g n a n t a n d \ a r i e c l .

( x M t a i n r e m a r k s i n C i c i z ' s c o m m e n t s r e f e r t o t h e p r o d u c ­

t i o n o f t h e ] > l a y · F o r e x a m p l e , i n t h e s c e n e w i t h t h e t h r e e

m e n w h o c o m e t o c l e l i x e r t h e s e c r e t g i f t s , G c ) z w r i t e s ( c o m ­

m e n t o n I i i s f i g . 7 ( S , I ' c r such . . . , p . 1 ^ ) 7 ) : " S i e e i l e t m i t z u r

H i l l e g e s t r e k t e n A r m e n a n c h e l i i r , i n d e m s i c h s o l c h e f e i e r l i c h

( • ) i n e t . D e r R a u m d e s F o r m a t s l i e f n i c h t w o l z u d e n A u g e n -

b l i k d e u t l i c h e r z u s c h i l d e r n , u n d d i e z w e i b e g l e i t e n d e n M ä n ­

n e r m i t L e i c h e n f a k e l n , w e l c h e s i c h z u F L r h ö h u n g d e s E i n ­

d r u c k e s a n d e r Γ ΐ η · w e i s e n , z u z e i c h n e n . " I h u s t h e e n t r y

o f t h e m e s s e n g e r s i s p r e p a r e d f o r i n a p i c t o r i a l l y i n i ] ) r e s s i v e

w a y . I n t h e f i n a l s c e n e ( c f . i V ô / f i g . 1 5 3 [ o u r F g . 2 ^ ^ ] a n d c o m ­

m e n t ) h e h a s t h e o p p o r t u n i t ) t o s h o w a s c e n e w i t h m a n y

c h a r a c t e r s . H e i s c o n c e r n e d t o c r e a t e \ a r i e t y i n t h e p o s i t i o n s

a n d e x p r e s s i o n s o f t h e p l a y e r s i n t h e c r o w d s c e n e ; t h e y a r e t o

( I c p i c t ( l i i f c r c n l c l e i L ^ r e c s o f a d i t e p i t y a n d d i s m a y . H e w o u l d ,

l i c t e l l s u s , l i a \ c l i k e d l o s h o w s t i l l l u r t h e r v a r i a t i o n s o l t h i s

g r o u p i n g ; l ) u t a s t h e p r i n c i p l e s l o r g r o u p i n g s o f t h i s k i n d

w o u l d n e e d a A v h o l e t r e a t i s e t o t h e m s e l v e s h e p r o j ) o s e s t o

r e s e r \ e t h i s t h e m e f o r a p o s t s c r i p t .

C i ( · ) / m a k e s o n e o r t w o r e f e r e n c e s t o P e t e r v o n W i n t e r ' s

m u s i c . F o i e \ a m j ) l e , i n t h e c o n n n e n t o n h i s f i g . r e g a r d i n g

t h e d u m h s h o w w h i d i f o l l o w s o n t h e m u r d e r o f l . e n a r d o , h e

r e c o n n n e n d s a c t o r s w h o w i s h t o p e i f o r m t h e p l a y t o f o l l o w

t h e a c c o m p a n y i n g n u i s i c i n w h i c h t l i e r e a r e s e v e r a l p a s s a g e s

" w o h i n e i n b e s o n d e r e r S c h w i u i g d e s A f f e k t e s g e l e g t w o r d e n " .

I n t h e a l ) o \ e - m e n t i o n e d n o t e o n t h e s c e n e w h e r e t h e t h r e e

m e n e n t e r , h e w r i t e s t h a t h e w i s h e s h e c o u l d d e s c r i b e t h e

b a s s o o n c h o r d ^ v h i c h c o m e s i n a t t h i s p l a c e ; H e r r ^ V i n t e r h a s

d e p i c t e d t h i s m o m e n t w i t h g r e a t r o m a n t i c f e e l i n g . I n a n o t h e r

c o n t e x t ( » ( • ) / t e l l s u s t h a t h e h a d c o n f e r r e d ^ v i t h P e t e r v o n

W i n t e r r e g a r d i n g h i s A v i s h e s a s t o t h e c h a r a c t e r o f t h e m u s i c

( I ' n such . . . , p p . 2 1 1 , 2 1 2 ) . I n t h e f i r s t p l a c e " M e i n e r u n m a s g e -

b l i c h e n M e i n u n g n a c h s o k e g e r a d e s o v i e l u n d n i c h t m e r

M u s i k / w i s c h e n d e n e n R e d e i n t e r v a l l e n a n g e n o m m e n i m d g e ­

h ö r t w e r d e n , a l s w a r s c h e i n l i c h Z e i t d i e S e e l e i n i h r e r e i n m a l

a n g e n o m m e n e n L a g e n ö t i g h a t , u m B e g r i f f e a u s B e g r i f f e n z u

i o l g e r n o d e r d a d u r c h / u n e u e n I d e e n i ' i b e r / u g e h e n . D e r l O n -

s e z e r s o l s i c h l e b h a f t i n d i e L a g e d e r h a n d l e n c l e n P e r s o n v e r -

s e z e n u n d d e n s p r a c h l o s e n Z u s t a n d m i t s a n f t e n A k o r c l e n a u s -

f i U l e n , ^ v o r i n n e n d a s i n n e r e C i e f i i l s i c h s a m m l e t , u n d o r d n e t .

E r s o l d i e W i r k u n g i e n e r M o m e n t e s t u d i r e n , w o r i n n e n d i e

L e i d e n s c l u d t e n t w e d e r n o c h n i c h t z u i e n e r H ( ) h e g e s t i g e n i s t ,

d a s s i e d e n x M u n d u n w i l l k ü r l i c h ( i f n e t , u n d / u s j ) r e c h e n d r ä n g t ,

o d e r w e n n d u r c h U e b e r g e w i c h t d e s ( » e f ü l s d i e S p r a c h e s t o -

k e t . " S e c o n d l y , C i ö z w a n t s t h e m u s i c t o b e g i n a n d e n d w i t h

t h e s a m e t o n e a s t h e p r e c e d i n g 0 1 f o l l o w i n g d e c l a m a t i o n

r e s p e c t i v e l y . T h e s c o r e i s s t i l l p r e s e r v e d i n M u n i c h . I s t e l

c a l l s \ \ ' i n t e i ' s m u s i c u n e v e n r o u t i n e w o r k f o r t h e t h e a t r e . · ' · ^

I h i s j u d g m e n t m a y p e r h a p s b e j u s t i f i e d w i t h r e g a r d t o t h e

m u s i c a l c o n t e n t ; b u t r e g a r d e d a s a n a t t e m p t t o m e e t C W i z ' s

^ v i s h e s i t m u s t b e a d m i t t e d t h a t t h e s c o r e i s \ e r y s u c c e s s f u l .

\ \ 1 i a t r e l a t i o n d i d t h i s d i r e c t i o n o n p a p e r b e a r t o t l i e

a c t u a l p e r f o i i n a n c e i n t h e t h e a t r e ? U n f o r t u n a t e l v c o m j ) a i a t i v e

n i a l e r i a l i s \ c r y s j j a r s c . A s w e l i a \ e s e e n , t h e r e \ i e w i s c o i i l i n e d

l o i > e n e i a l l a u d a t o r y p h r a s e s a n d ) ) r o \ i d e s n o u s e f u l d e s c r i p ­

t i o n . R e i > a r d i n _ i > A i n i e . l l e i g e l s a l ) i l i t \ a s a n a c t r e s s o p i n i o n s

d i l l e r ( ( I . j ) . 5 7 a l ) o \ e a n d n o t e 3 5 ) . A s ( i ö / i > e n e r o u s l y c o m ­

m e n d s s o m e e s p e c i a l h s u c x e s s l u l p a s s a g e s i n P e t e i λ ο η W i n t e r ' s

s c o r e , i t w o u l d s e e m l e a s o n a b l e t o a s s i n n e t h a t i t M m e . l l e i g e l ' s

i n t e i j ) ] e t a t i o n o l t h e j ) a r t h a d b e e n e s p e c i a l l y s u c c e s s l i d i n

m e e t i n g h i s o w n i n t e n t i o n s h e w o u l d j i a \ e m e n t i o n e d t h e

i a c t . l l i s i m p o s s i b l e t o d e t e r m i n e w h e t h e r ( > ( > / a c h i s e d i h e

p l a y e r s w l i e n t h e p e r l o i n i a n c e w a s b e i n g p r e p a r e d . \ \ c k n o w

t h a t l a t e r o n , i n . A u g s b u r g , h e d i s t i n g u i s h e d h i m s e l l a s t h e

d i r e c t o r o l a g r o u p o l a r i s t o c i a t i c : a m a t e i n s . I n t h e T h e a t e r -

K a l o i d c r o l 1 7 S 5 ( p p . 1 0 3 t i . ) t h e r e i s a r e v i e w o f t h e w o r k

o l t h i s t h e a t r e . I h e c o i r e s | ) C) n d e n t w r i t e s t h a t h e h a s h a d

o c c a s i o n t o a d m i r e t h i s t h e a t i e a l r e a d y , a ) e a r p r e v i o u s l y .

Ί l i e c l i r e c t o i i s " H e i r \ ο η ( i c ) / " a n d i t i s t h a n k s t o h i s e l l o r t s

a t r e h e a i s a l s t l i a t t h e r e s t d t s h a \ e b e e n s o s u c c e s s i i d . I h e c o r -

i e s j K ) n d e n t g o e s s o i a r a s t o c a l l ( i f ) / " e i n O r i g i n a l g e n i " .

W i t h r e g a r d t o t h e s e t t i n g o l t h e p e r i o r m a n c e i t s e e m s

p r o b a b l e t h a t i n t h e i l l u s t r a t i o n s ( c i . o u r F i g s . 2 4 , 2 5 ) a n d t h e

s c e n e r y d i r e c t i o n s i n t h e b o o k ( c l . p a g e 5 9 a b o v e ) i V ô / . i s

j ) r o b a b l y s h o w i n g t h e s a m e b e d c h a m b e r d e c o r a s w a s u s e d

i n t h e t h e a t r e . A m o n g s o m e i m i d e n t i r i e d Q u a g l i o s k e t c h e s

i n t h e M ü n c l i n e r r i i e a t e r s a m m l u n g 1 c a m e a c r o s s t h i s C i o t h i c

b e d c h a m b e r ( s e e F i g . 2 6 ) . I h e s k e t c h i n c | u e s t i o n c l e a r l y

s h o w s t h e s p e c i a l l i g h t i n g a r r a n g e m e n t s d e s c r i b e d b y C i i ) / — t h e

b r i g h t l y - l i t d o o r a n d t h e b i n n i n g l a m p o n a c o l u m n t h r o w i n g

a s t r o n g l i g h t o n t h e b e c l - c a n o | ) y .

W h e t h e r ( » ( " ) / c c ) l l a i ) o r a t e c l i n t h e p r o d u c t i o n o r n o t , h e

s e e m s t o h a v e b e e n c l i s s a t i s l i e c l w i t h t h e r e s u l t s , l o r h e w r i t e s

( I ' c r s iKh . . J ) . 2 1 2 ) : " i c h b i n n a c h d e r H a n d a l s m e i n D r a m a

a u l c l e m M i u i c h n e r t h e a t e r g e g e b e n w o r d e n i s t Z e u g e g e w e ­

s e n , w i e d i e s e s K i n d v o n a n d e r n m i s h a n c l e l t w o r d e n , u n d h a b e

m i c h d a m i t g e t r c i s t e t d a s i c h o l t W e r k e d e r g r c i s s t e n G e n i e s

e b e n s o l i e r a b g e w i n d i g e t , t n i d c l i n c h e l e n d e L a s t t r ä g e r d e r

S c h a u s ] ) i l g ( ) t t i n e n \ e r u n s t a l t e t g e s e h e n h a b e . " I h e s e l i n e s a r e

i n a p o s t s c r i p t t o t h e c o m m e n t s { y c r s t K / i . . . , p p . 2 0 3 - 1 2 ) ,

w h e r e , a m o n g o t h e r t h i n g s , ( » Γ ) / u n b u r d e n s h i m s e l l o n t h e

s u b j e c t o l s t a g e c l i i e c t i o n . H e c r i t i c i z e s t h e j ) r e v a i l i n g c o n d i -

l i o n s i n i w o f i e l d s . F i r s t t h e r e i s t h e ] ) a ( l l i g h t i n g t e c h n i q u e

a n d s e c o n d l y t h e r e i s t h e l a c k o t a t t e n t i o n t o c r o w d s c e n e s .

W i t h r e g a r d t o l i g h t i n g h i s i d e a s a r e n o t o r i g i n a l , a f a c t w h i c h

h e i s h a r d l y a t p a i n s t o c o n c e a l . H e p u t s f o r w a r d t h e v i e w s

o f m o d e r n t h e a t r e a r c h i t e c t s r e g a r d i n g m o r e r e a l i s t i c a n d

p a i n t e r l y l i g h t i n g e f f e c t s . R u t h i s i d e a s f o r t h e i m p r o v e m e n t

o l t h e g r o u j ) i n g o n t h e s t a g e o f w a l k - o n j ) l a y e r s a r e m o r e i n ­

d e p e n d e n t . H e c o n s i d e r s t h a t t h i s a r e a i s t o t a l l y n e g l e c t e d .

T h e p r o d u c e r s o f b a l l e t s s u c c e e d ] ) e r f e c t l y i n g r o u p i n g s c o n ­

s i s t i n g o f m a n y j ) e r s c ) n s w i t h o u t t h e s } ) e c t a t o r b e i n g a w a r e o f

a n y m e c h a n i c a l c o m p u l s i o n . I t w o t d c l , h o w e v e r , h e a d m i t s ,

p r o b a b l y b e d i f f i c u l t t o g e t t h e o f t e n h a u g h t y d a n c e r s t o

l a k e ] ) a r t i n s p o k e n d r a m a . ( i ( ) Z h a s a p r a c t i c a l p r o j j c x s a l f o r

t h e s o l u t i o n o f t h i s j ) r o b l e m . H e h a s h i m s e l f , h e s a y s , t r i e d

i t w i t h s u c c e s s . Λ s m a l l - s c a l e m o d e l o f t h e s t a g e f l o o r i s

m a d e , i t i s t h e n c j u a r l e r e d a n d d o l l s c a n b e p u t o u t e v e r y f e w

m i n u t e s i n e f f e c t i v e g i o u p s . E a c h c h a r a c t e r i s g i v e n a n i n n b e r

a n d t w o o r t h r e e a t t i t u d e s a r e s t u d i e d w i t h e a c h o n e . J t i s

t h e n e a s y t o t r a n s f e r t h e p l a n n e d g r o u p i n g t o t h e t h e a t r e .

M o d e l d o l l s s i m i l a r t c : > t h e f i g u r i n e s i n C ^ h r i s t m a s c r i b s c a n

b e m a d e a t \ e r y s m a l l c o s t , h e s a y s . I t i s p e r h a p s A v o r t h m e n ­

t i o n i n g i n t h i s c o n n e c t i o n t h a t P e t e r λ ο η A V i n t e r h a d t h e

c o s t l i e s t ( C h r i s t m a s c i i b i n t h e ^ v h o l e o f M u n i c h , A a l u e d a t

( ) ( ) ( ) g u l d e n . P e r h a p s ( i o z g o t t h e i m } ) u l s e f o r h i s p r o p o s a l f r o m

t h i s " W e i h n a c h t s t h e a t e r " . ^ ' *

A s a h e a d ) m e n t i o n e d , w h e n o n e f i r s t s c a n s t h e c o m m e n t s

o n t h e i l l u s t r a t i o n s o n e h a s a n i m p i e s s i o n o f o b s c u r i t y o w i n g

t o t h e a j ) p a r e n t l a c k o f s y s t e m a n d a i r a n g e m e n t . B u t i f i n ­

s t e a d o f t r y i n g t o r e a d t h e m a s " l i t e r a t u r e " o n e r e g a r d s t h e m

a s a n a t t e m p t t o c o n \ e y t h e i n n n e c l i a t e ^ v o r k o f a d i r e c t o r w i t h

a c t o r s , o n e a r i i \ e s a t a n e n t i r e l y c h ' f f e i e n t v i e w o f C n i / ' s b o o k .

T h e c h f f e r e n t d i r e c t i o n s l o i \ o i c e , g e s t u i e a n d f a c i a l e x p r e s ­

s i o n , t h e p s y c h o l o g i c a l a n d p h y s i o l o g i c a l a n a l y s e s a r e n o t

m i x e d u p f o r t u i t o u s l y ; o n t h e c o n t r a r y , t h e y c o n s i s t e n t l y a p ­

p e a r p r e c i s e l y i n t h e o r d e r b e s t a d a p t e d f o r t h e i n s t r u c t i o n

o f t h e j ) l a y e r s . C i o / d o e s n o t s e e m t o h a v e s e e n t h i s s k e t c h ­

l i k e c o n t a c t w i t h t h e r e a d e i a s a s t y l i s t i c p r o b l e m . A V i t h t h e

i l l u s t i a t i o n s i t i s a c l i f f e i e i U m a t t e r . I t m u s t b e c o n c e d e d t h a t

t h e y a r e \ v i t h o u t a r t i s t i c m e r i t ; t h e y c a n n o t e v e n l ) e c a l l e d

Svp j^S|p u i ^

Svp j^S|p

i ^

.11. ,η », i / t 'L ·" · uL rM·/ lr , j . ; l · . Î>U' i r iU-.w^-Uu/; . , zrr lnJnuT JiUf .

i Fig. 24. Fig. 25.

Fig. 24-25. J. F. von Göz. Scenes from Leonardo und Blandine.

Fig. 26. Gothic bedchamber. Sketch by J. Qiiaglio. Copyright Theater­

museum, Munich.

( o i î i p c t e i u a i i K i t c m w o r k , t h e y a r c b o t h b e l o w a n d a i ) o \ e a n y

a t t e m p t a t a e s t h e t i c a n a h s i s . l · o r us t h e i r j u s t i l i c a t i o n l i e s

e x ( l i i s i \ e l y i n t h e i r b e i n g a c ( ) n i j ) l e n i e n t t o t h e c o m m e n t s , b e ­

c a u s e , d e s p i t e t h e i r i n c o m p l e t e n e s s , t h e y g i v e a n i d e a o f t h e

n a t u r e o l t h e m o x e m e n i s . l > i n t o r ( i c ) / t h e d r a w i n g s w e r e o l

p r i m a l y i m j j o r t a n c e . H e i s h i n r s e l i a w a r e t h a t t h e y a r e i i n -

s a t i s l a c t o i y a n d l i e ; i ] ) o l c ) g i / e s Î o r h i s d e i i c i e n t a r t i s t i c t r a i n i n g .

H e e \ e n m a k e s a \ i r t u e o l n e c e s s i t y a n d d e v o t e s a g r e a t p a r t

o l h i s t h e o r e t i c a l i n t r o c h u t i o n t o e x j ) l a i n i n g t h a t a s k e t c h , e v e n

a n a r t i s t i c a l l ) u n s i i c c e s s ! n l o n e , i s t o b e p r e f e r r e d t o t h e

| ) o l i s h e c l , i i n i s h e c l w o r k o f a r t w h i c h i n a s i i j j e i l i c i a l w a y

i m i t a t e s a n t i c j i i e a r t a n d c l a s s i c a l I t a l i a n a r t . I h i s m a y b e

i m p e c c a b l e i n c o l o t n , { ) i o p o r t i o n s a n d t h e p l a y o t l i n e s , b u t

i t i s l a c k i n g i n h u m a n e x p r e s s i o n , i t d o c s n o t c o n \ e y l i l e a n d

h a s n o e m o t i o n a l c j u a l i t i e s . H e h i m s c H h a s w o r k e d d i r e c t " i n

c l e m e r s t e n F e u e r " o n t h e c o p | ) c r p l a t e , e t c h e d i t a n d t h e n , i n

c a s e o l n e e d , g o n e o \ e r t h e r e s i d t ^ v i t h t h e g r a \ e r . H e h a s n o t

c h o s e n t o b i n d h i n r s e l i t o b e a u t y o l i o r m . H i s i n t e n t i o n

w a s n e v e r , h e w r i t e s , t o j ) l e a s e t h e e y e b u t t o c a p t i n e m o v e ­

m e n t a n d e x p r e s s i o n . O i t e n t h e h a n d h a s n o t b e e n a b l e t o

l o l l o ^ v t h e a i t i s t ' s i e e l i n g s a n d i m a g i n a t i o n . I n m a n y o l t h e

e t c h i n g s o n e c a n l i n d i n a c c u r a c i e s i n t h e p r o p o r t i o n s . I h a v e

t r i e d t o g o o x e r t h e m a g a i n , C i T ) / w r i t e s , b u t I h a v e n o t a l w a y s

s u c c e e d e d , s i m p l y b e c a u s e t h e n e c e s s a r y s j ) i r i t u a l c o n c e n t r a ­

t i o n , t h e r e - l i v i n g o l t h e e m o t i o n , h a s b e e n a b s e n t . H e h a s

n o t c h o s e n t o w o i k i r o m a m o d e l b e c a u s e {Versuch . . p. 3 7 ) :

. . d i e X a t i n d e s M o d e l s i m d j e n e d e s Z e i c h n e r s z w e i e r l e i

( G e g e n s t ä n d e s i n d , d i e s i c h i n d e m A u g e n b l i c k e , w o s c h n e l l

c n t w o r l e n x v e r d e n m u s s , n n ' t H e i / e n i n u l d e r H a n d n i c h t s o

g e s c h w i n d \ e r e i n b a r e n , a l s d a s I d e a l , w e l c h e s a u s d e s K ü n s t ­

l e r s H e r / e n u n n n ' t t e l b a r e n t s p r i n g t . . . " .

T h e s j ) o n t a n e i t y o l ( i c i / ' s m e t h o d ο Γ w o r k i n c o m b i n a t i o n

w i t h h i s p e n c h a n t l o i a n a t o m i c a l s t u d i e s a n d h i s a m b i t i o n s

a s a n a r t i s t m a ) l e a d u s t o b e l i e v e t h a t w e a r e i n t h e p r e s e n c e

o l a \ i s i o n o l t h e a t r i c a l a r t o l a p i o i o i n i d l y o r i g i n a l k i n d .

Ί h i s , h o w e v e r , i s n o t t h e c a s e . I h e t e x t o l t h e ] ) l a y l e a d s o i n

t h o u g h t s t o t h e S t i n i n u n c i D r a n g t y j ) e o f d r a m a w i t h i t s

l i k i n g l o r k n i g h t l y r o m a n c e a n d i t s b l a c k - a n d - w h i t e c h a r a c -

t e r i / a t i o n , i t s s t a c c a t o l i n e s , t h e s w i l t c h a n g e s o l m o o d s a n d

Fig. 27. Schröder as Hamlet. Pastel by J. F. von Göz. Copyright Theater-

museum, Munich.

( h e d e p i c t i o n o l h a l e a n d j e a l o u s y , i t s d e s c r i p t i o n s o f m a d n e s s

a n d l o n i > - d i a \ v n o i n d e a t h s c e n e s . 1 h e o n l y t h i n g s w h i c h a r e

l a c k i n g a r e t h e l a i g e g a l a \ \ o l c h a r a c t e r s a n d t h e p i c a r e s c [ i i e

p l o t , i n t h e s a m e w a y a s t h e g r e a t m a j o r i t y o l m o n o d r a m a s

s e e m l i k e d e t a c h e d m o n o l o g u e s o l l a m e n t I r o m a l o s t a n t i c j t i e

t r a g e d v , s o Loui rdo in id l lUu id i i i c r e s e m b l e s a d e t a c h e d s c e n e

f r o m s o m e S t u i i n i i n d D r a n g d r a m a . I t i s t h e r e i o r e n a t t n a l

t o a s k w h e t h e r ( » Γ ) / w a s a l ^ o d e p e n d e n t o n t h e S t i n n i i i n d

D i a n g m o \ e m e n l i n r e g a i c l t o a c t i n g s t y l e . N o j ) l a i n a n s w e r

c a n b e g i \ e n t o t h i s c j t i e s t i o n . I t w o i d c l s e e m t h a t h e o p e r a t e s

m o s t l y w i t h t y j ) i c a l S t i n n i u n c i D i a n g g e s t i n e s : t h e h a n d o n

t h e h e a r t i n d i l i e r e n t \ a r i a t i o n s , h a n d o n t h e h e a d , c l e n c h e d

h a n d s t i n n e d i n d i l i e r e n t w a y s , a r m s v i o l e n t l y o u t s t r e t c h e d ,

F i g . 28. F i g . 29.

Fig. 28. J . F. von Göz. Scene from Lenardo und Blandine.

Fig. 29. Brockman as Hamlet. Etching by D. Chodowiecki.

h a n d s w i t h s j M e a d i i i g l i n g e r s , t h e k n e e g i \ i n g w a y , a n d —

n a t u r a l l y — t i i e c o i m d s i v e p h i y o l t h e e y e s , ( » ö / h i n i s e l l d o e s

n o t t e l l u s w h e r e h e h a s s t u d i e d t h i s s p e c i a l m a n n e r o l a c t i n g .

F h e s t \ l e h a d g a i n e d s o m e g r o i n i d i n X ' i e n n a a n d M i m i c h ,

h u t i t s c h i e t r e p r e s e n t a t i x e s w e r e i n H a m b i n g , B e r l i n a n d

M a n n h e i m , a n d ( . Γ ) / h a d n o t \ i s i t e d a n y o i t h e s e ( i l i e s . H e

h a d , h o w e \ e r , d o u b t l e s s s e e n B i c x k m a n i n V i e n n a i n 1 7 7 S ,

a n d w e k n o w t h a t h e s a w S c h i c k l e r w h e n t l i e l a t t e r p l a \ e d i n

M u n i c h i n l y c S o ( c Γ . l ^ ' g . 2 7 ) . i n o n e j ) l a c e w h e r e h e i s c o m -

j ) l a i n i n g o l a c t o r s w h o i m i t a t e i n a \ v a y s h o w i n g a l a c k o l

t a l e n t , h e w r i t e s { I ' c r s u c h . . . , j ) j ) . 2 9 Γ . ) : " S o z i e h e n n o d i h e u t

/ u F a g e H a m l e t s i m d L e a i s d i n e h l e u t s c h l a n d , i m d p a r o d i e ­

r e n i h r e e d l e n O r i g i n a l e , i n d e m s i e s o l c h e n a d i / u a m e n g l a u ­

b e n . " l i e w o i d d h a i c l l y h a \ e \ e n t i n e d t o s a y a s n i t u h i l h e

h a d n o t l e l t c j u a l i i i e d t o d o s o b y a c c j u a i n t a n c e w i t h t h e

m o d e l s . F o r c e r t a i n d e t a i l s i t i s c o n c e i x a b l e t h a t ( i f ) / r e c e i v e d

( Ic f .r iromf-

Fig. 30. J . F. von Göz. Scene from Lenardo und Blandine.

Fig. 31. Brockman in the final scene of Hamlet . Engraving by D. Chodowiecki.

impulses a t secoiulhaiul through (^hoclowiechi ' s Hamlet en-

gra\ ings. We see this dearly in (i()/ 's fig. 94 (our Fig. 2(S).

I^lancl ine, imagining in hei dis t racted s ta te that s l ie can see

a j ) rocession of men in black, s t re tches out both amis , the

lef t arm fur thest ; one hand is a t eye le \ 'e l , the other s l ight ly

lower. ( Ihoclowiecki shows Hrockman with exact ly the same

gesture in the scene with the cjueen and the ghost (1 29) .

Broc kman had fol lowed this c harac te i is t ic gestuie f rom ( iar-

r ick 's inter j^retat ion ol Hamlet , ol which he had leai i i t through

Lichtenberg.^- I t is , however , possible that (»Γ)/ may also

have seen Biockman himself making the gest ine or that he

had seen i t at the theatre in Miniic h. In 1779 Anton H tic k

came there to play Hamlet and his lendei ing is said to have

been a cc)])y of r>rockman's .^ ·^ ( io/ connnents on his choice of

this gest ine in the fol lowing words {I 'crsucJi . . p . i7()) :

" D u l c h I n s t i n k t a i t i g e I k n v c g i m g w i r d s i c g e l r i e l ) e n , b c i t l c

/ c i g c i i n g c i i n p a r a l l e l e n W i h ä l t n i s s c n a i i s / i i s t r e c k e n ; e i n e ß e -

w e g u n g , w e l d i e i h r e m ( i e s d i l e c h l e b e i g e s u n d e m V e r s l a n d e

n n / i e r l i d i l a s s e n w i n d e , u n d n u r i n s e r h o l i e m A t l e k l e e n l -

s d u i l d i g e t w e r d e n k ( ) n i e . . A n o t h e r c a s e ο ί b o r r o w i n g I r o m

( i h o d o w i e c h i ' s H a m l e t e n g r a \ i n g s i s j ) e r h a j ) s t o b e s e e n i n

( i O / ' s i i g . i 2 ( ) ( o i n - F i g . 3 0 ) . B l a n d i n e ) ) l a ( e s h e r h a n d s b e f o r e

h e i i a ( e i n a \ e r \ ( h a r a c t e i i s t i c \ \ ' a y b y p l a c i n g o n e h a n d

o \ e r t h e o t h e i . W e r e c o g n i / e t l i i s m o \ e m e n t i r o m t h e t e n t h ,

a n d e \ e n m o r e c l e a r l y I r o m t h e e l e \ e n t h , | ) l a t e i n t h e H a m l e t

s e r i e s ; t h e l a d y - i n - w a i t i n g b e h i n d t h e O u e e n s h o w s h e r c o n ­

s t e r n a t i o n i n t h i s w a y ( F i g . 3 1 ) . V ' o e l c k c r m a k e s t h e i m j ) o r t a n t

o b s e r \ a t i o n t h a t i n c o n t e m j i o r a r y t h e a t r i c a l c o n v e n t i o n p l a c ­

i n g t h e h a n d s l ) e i o r e t h e Î a c e d e n o t e d t e r i o i ; w e e j ) i n g w a s

s h o w n w i t h t h e h a n d k e r c h i e i \ v h i c h w a s n e \ e r a b s e n t i r o m a

l a c l \ ' s h a n c l . ^ ^ M e n , t o o , m a d e p l a y w i t h t h i s i t e m o i p r o p e r t y ;

a s i s w e l l k n o w n . B r o c k m a n c a r r i e d a l a r g e h a n d k e r c h i e f

s t u f f e d i n h i s b e l t . H e r e C i ö / h a s d e p a r t e d f r o m t h e g e n e r a l

c o n \ e n t i o n , f o r B l a n d i n e ' s g e s t u r e w i t h h e r h a n d s b e f o r e h e r

f a c e i s i n t e n d e d t o s h o w t h a t s h e i s ^ v e e p i n g . i n t h e c o m m e n t

o n t h i s i l l u s t r a t i o n ( i o / w r i t e s [ \ ' e r such . . p . 1 8 8 ) ; " D i e s e s

g e w a l t s a m a u s g e s t o s n e A ( ^ H ! e i l e i c h t e r t u n d b e i o r d e r t d e n

I l m l a u f d e s K l u t s l u u l d e r c l a \ c ) n a b h ä n g e n d e n F e u c h t i g k e i t e n ,

d a h e r \ e r m ( ) g e n i h r e A u g e n i n Ί r ä n e n g i i s e / u s t r ö m e n , s i e

a l i n d e t d a d i n c h e i n e s c h w a c h e L i n d e i u n g i h r e s g e p r e s t e n ( i e -

m i i t e s , u n d s u c h t i h r e n L a u f / u b e f ö r d e r n , i n d e m s i e d i e

I l a n d e h e f t i g a n d i e S t i r n u n d A u g e n n u i s k e l n r e i b t . " I h u s

f o r ( i ( · ) / i h i s g e s t u r e i s n o t a p i e c e o f s y m b o l i s m b u t o n e w h i c h

i s f o u n d e d o n p s y c h o l o g i c a l a n d ] ) h y s i o l c ) g i c a l c a u s e s .

i n t h e d e a t h s c e n e t h e r e w e r e n o S i u r m u n c i D r a n g e x c e s s e s ,

a s , l o i e x a m j ) l e , i h e s o - ( a i l e d " e p i l e p l i c I i i " ( ( f . j ) . 8 7 ) . l > u ( i t

w a s c u s t o m a r y t o f o l l o w ) . F . S c h l e g e l s a c h i c e n o t t o r e j j i e s e n t

d e a t h i n i t s d r e a d f u l l e a l i t y b i u t o s h o w i t a s e v e i y o n e w o i d d

w i s h i t t o o c c u r i n h i s o w n c a s e . I n h i s a u t o b i o g r a p h y ( . Γ ) /

t e l l s u s t h a t h e w a s o f t e n p i e s e n t a t d e a t h b e d s . I h e c l e ] ) i c t i o n

o f B l a n d i n e ' s d e a t h s t r u g g l e i s d o i d ) t l e s s b a s e d o n p e r s o n a l

o b s e i \ a t i o n s , b u t o n l y u n t i l t h e m o m e i U o f d e a t h i t s e l f . A V h e n

B l a n c l i n e h a s d r a w n h e r l a s t b r e a t h s h e s i n k s d o w n i n a

b e a u t i f u l c o n x e n t i o n a l a t t i t u d e ( c f . o i n F i g . ^ 5 2 ) . I n o n e r e s ] ) e c t

Xun Ίώ,φ-ßchl Ja ,^au7jhrll·.

Fig. 32. J . F. von Göz. Scene from Lenardo und Blandine.

( i ( ) / ' s a p p i o a c h t o i a c i a l e x p r e s s i o n i s u n i q u e . H e m a k e s h i s

p l a y e r s a c t w i t h t h e m o u t h a n d s o b r e a k s o n e o i t h e b a s i c

r u l e s o l c l a s s i c a l a c t i n g w h i c h , s o i a r a s c a n b e j u c l g e c l f r o m

t h e a v a i l a b l e p i c t o r i a l m a t e r i a l , n o t e v e n t h e S t u r m u n c i

D r a n g a c t o r s d a r e d t o d i s r e g a r d . H e r e j ^ e r h a p s i t i s G ö z ' s

a n a t o m i c a l s t u d i e s w h i c h h a \ e b e e n t o o p o w e r f u l f o r h i m a n d

h a v e l e d h i m t o a c l o | ) t a n a t u r a l i s m o f a r g u a b l e v a l u e .

Ί h i s w a ) o f p e r f o n n i n g w i t h n e r v e s , n u i s c l e s a n d r e s p i r a ­

t i o n d i s c r e e t l y r e i n e d i n t o a c c o r d w i t h w h a t w a s a e s t h e t i c a l l y

a c c e p t a b l e f a l l s b r o a d l y w i t h i n t h e f i a m e w o r k o f t h e t y p i c a l

S t u r m u n c i D r a n g s t y l e o f a c t i n g , o r r a t h e r o f t h i s a c t i n g a s

i t a p p e a r e d o n t h e s u r f a c e , a s s e e n a n d h e a r d b y t h e a t i d i e n c e .

A V ' i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n o f t h e t w o g r e a t e s t l i g u r e s , S c h r ö d e r a n d

B r o c k m a n , t h e S t u r m u n d D r a n g a ( t o r s r e l i e d o n t h e i r u n ­

i n h i b i t e d t e m p e i a m e n t , s u j ) p o r t e d b y a t h i n v e n e e r o f s i m p l e

c o n v e n t i o n a l c r a f t s m a n s h i j ) . CJÖZ rat iojuiUzcd the Sturm inul

Drat ig s ty le (uid at tc i t iptcd to give a psycJioIogiral and physio­

logical rraso)! for ca(h rnoxwfnoi t and cach sound.

I n h i s i n t r o d u c t i o n a n d i n s e v e r a l p l a c e s i n t h e c o m m e n t s

6 - 6 6 3 2 0 6 H o l m s t r ö m 8 1

Göz cr i t ic izes ihe acl ing of his own t ime. I t is not the s tyle

i tsel t that he i incls iaul t with, but the lack ol pioiessional

knowledge. Most of the actors , he sa\s , play on their tempera­

ment and tend to rely a l together on the iorce oi emotion.

Ί heir act ing is tmplannecl and, in combination with the

def iciency of knowledge, i t leads them to a monotonous re ­

pet i t ion of a few meaningless s tereot \ped gestures and tr icks

of intonat ion. Other actors imitate cer ta in leading performers

and become mere car icatures of their models because they lack

suff ic ient knc:)wledge to analyse what they ha\e seen. Some

actors prepare s i tuat ions in f ront of the mirror , t rying to

put head, hands and feet in a pict inescpie |K)se, but l )ecause

they cannot connnand the nuiscles of the body the residt is

not successful . 1 he monotony of the movements is par t ic idar ly

not iceable in the monochamas which are so fashionable , wri tes

Göz. Ihe actors gest ic idate against the grain of the wc^rcls

and treat the pantomime in the musical sect ions as indej^endent

per iods. How can one help them? Göz makes var ious sug­

gest ions. Firs t and foremost l ie wishes to change the player 's

f inulamental a t t i tude to his ])rofession. I f an actor seeks for

models to fol low in i l lustrat ions and text i t wi l l by no means

have an adverse effect on his or iginal i ty and insight . On the

cont iary the s tudy of technicjue can onh serve to release the

actor . J t is wrong to asser t , as actors do, that the ar t is t whose

feel ings are dominated by his ar t and who surrenders himself

a l together to the force of emotion is a lso exj>ressing himself

direct ly and clearh. No one can j^lay properly on an instru­

ment that is out of tune. In the bal le t a l l a t t i tudes and group­

ings are f ixed in achance and learnt mechanical ly . \ 'e t this

e lement of cc)mj)uls ion does not detract f rom the beauty of

the j )e i loiniaiue. In general ( i ( )z is no great admirer of bal le t .

He holds that the r ides of dancing are against nature; even

Noverre 's foimer pupi ls pract ise so many meaningless ' 'Fortr-

hras" and f loinishes that they remind him of Hogarth 's dancers

in the t reat ise on beaiuy. ( ic iz says that WT lack means by

which we can show an actor his monotony and help him to

im|)rove. l l ie cr i t ics never suggest models which can hel j> him

to correct himself ; a l l that the actor can f ind is a detadiecl

s ta tement here and there . Plato, Quint i l ian, (acero and De-

nioslhci ics h: i \c wii i icn on i l ic cmoiions aiul their c l fee t on

bodi ly nioxenienls , bi i i only in i>eneial tenns. I l ie best school

lor an ae lor is the s tudy ol j j i i to i ia l ar t ; he (an l ind excel lent

exj)ressi \e models in the woi ks ol Raphael , Donienichino, Le

ßr ini , (»ren/e , Reynolds , West , l loi>arth, Rubens, Rembrandt

and (J iodowiecki . ( .Γ)/ l i s ts these names without giving ex ­

amples ol what he thinks the actor can leain in par t icular

I rom each ol these ar t is ts . Nevertheless this advice—to s tudy

j) ic tc)r ia l ar t—is seen by him as incl is | )ensable . He is convinced

that with Louirdo imd lUiUidinc he himsel i has shown the

way to a new and bet ter method ol helping the actor out oi

his tnuertaint ies .

W'e ha\e been ai) le to show that the s tyle which dis t inguishes

the l ic t ixe act ion in Louirdo u)id BUuidiuc is no new creat ion.

1 low does i t l i t in ^vi t l i (»ö/ ' s theoret ical basis? Once more we

nuis t admit that a l i rs t leading ol the text gives an impression

ol or iginal i ty . But here , too, i t is (»ö/ ' s capriciot is way of

wri t ing which clecei \es i is . He was by no means sel i - tanght ,

but as his a im in wri t ing the book was to s t imidate the reader 's

ar t is t ic sensibi l i ty he did not consider i t necessary to disct iss

his sc:) inces . Only Std/er and Hogarth are ment ioned by name,

but i t is ob\ ions that Ciö/ was wel l acc |nainted with con­

temporary wri t ing on act ing. His ideas on a Rembrandtescj i ie

chiarosctno l ight ing ol the s tage are luidonbtedly taken i rom

Algarot t i ' s Saggio sopra Γ opera i) i fnusica. Ikhincl the dream

ol a thoroughly workecl-ont j j roclnction with the walk-on

players arranged in picttnescjne express ive groups l ies the in-

l lnence ol Noverre. ( io/ 's demand of the actors, that they

shal l achieve an inspired emotional type ol act ing which is

nexertheless bui l t on knowledge and anahsis, i s ins j) irecl by

Lessing 's e l lorts to mediate in the dispute between Riccoboni

and Sainte Albine. His pedagogical zeal a lso originated in the

debates ol the t ime. The taking up ol a posi t ion in the dis ­

cussion on "cold" and "hot" act ion necessai i ly led to the

taking t ip ol an at t i tncle on the cj i ies t ion o l dramatic t ra ining

as wel l .

With legarcl to (»ö/ ' s j )sychological and physiological know­

ledge the matter is somewhat more complicated. His concern

with these cpiest ions is not solely an expression ol his personal

r a n g e ο ί i n l c r c s l s . D u r i n g l l i e i / y o s a n d l y S o s t h e s t u d y o l

j ) h y s i o g n o n i y w a s e x t r e m e l y i a s h i o n a b l e i n c i d t i v a t e d c i r c l e s

i n ( i e r n i a n y . T h e m o v e m e n t w a s s t a r t e d b \ L a v a t e r w i t h h i s

w o r k s P l i y s i o g i i o t n i k ( 1 7 7 2 ) a n d P h y s i o g t i o n i i s c h c F r a g m e n t e

( 1 7 7 4 - 7 8 ) . P h y s i o g n o m y s e t s o u t t o d e s c r i b e t h e f i x e d p h y s i c a l

s t r u c t u r e i n m a n , a i ) o \ e a l l t h e f e a t u r e s , a n d t o e x } ) l a i n t h e i r

r e l a t i o n t o s p i r i t u a l a n d m o r a l c h a r a c t e r . I t i s a h e r i t a g e I r o m

a n t i c j u i t y w h i c h p e r s i s t s t o t h e p r e s e n t d a y , l o r w e s p e a k o t a

j ^ e r s o n ' s h a v i n g a n i n t e l l i g e n t f o r e h e a d , a ] ) o w e r f t d c h i n o r

s m a l l , u n r e l i a b l e e y e s , e t c . i n c o n t r a s t t o t h i s m e t h o d o f

e \ a l u a t i n g a p e r s o n ' s a p p e a r a n c e i s patho j io in ic s , w h i c h s e t s

o u t t o d e s c r i b e t h e t e m p o r a r y p h y s i c a l e x p r e s s i o n s a n d t h e i r

r e l a t i o n t o m e n t a l c h a n g e s . A t t h e j ^ e r i o d w e a r e d i s c u s s i n g

t h i s l i n e h a d a p r o m i n e n t r e p r e s e n t a t i v e i n G e r m a n y i n t h e

p e r s o n o f Ct . E . L i c h t e n b e r g , w h o a t t a c k e d L a v a t e r i n , i n t e r

a l ia , t h e a r t i c l e " Ü b e r d i e P h y s i o g n o m i k w i e d e r d i e P h y s i o g n o -

m e n " ( 1 7 7 3 , a n d i n o f f p r i n t 1 7 7 H ) . I n Lenardo und B land ine

G o z h a s c o n c e r n e d h i m s e l f w i t h t h e t r a n s i e n t p h y s i c a l e x ­

p r e s s i o n s r a t h e r t h a n p h y s i o g n o m y . T h i s i s a l t o g e t h e r n a t u r a l

s i n c e h e i s c o n c e r n e d w i t h d e p i c t i n g n o t c h a r a c t e r b u t e m o ­

t i o n s , a n d s o t h e c j u e s t i o n o f a c h o i c e d o e s n o t a r i s e . T h a t G o z

d i d n o t d e s p i s e p h y s i c ^ g n o m y i s c l e a r f r o m a n o t h e r s e r i e s o f

d r a w i n g s f r o m h i s h a n d , Die heu t ige s i ch tbare Körper ive l t oder

ICH) Charae ter -Züge derer denen Menschen äusser l i ch kennbar

werdender , i nner l i ch verborgo ier gu ter oder böser l e iden-

schaf f t l i cher Beschaf fenhe i to i ( A u g s b u r g 1 7 8 3 - 8 5 ) . ( F i g s . 3 3 ,

3 4 . ) T h e s e a r e n o t p i n e l y p h y s i c ^ g n o m i c a l s t u d i e s . R a t h e r t h e

f i g u r e s a r e e x a m p l e s o f c h a r a c t e r o l o g i c a l o b s e r v a t i o n s . T h i s ,

t o o , i s a n i n h e r i t a n c e f r o m a n t i c j u i t y w h i c h h a s a l w a y s b e e n

a l i v e i n t h e t h e a t r e i n c o m e d y a n d t h e a c t i n g o f c o m e d y . A V i t l i

r e g a r d t o t h e s t u d i e s o f e x p r e s s i o n s i n Lc ï iardo und JUand ine

C j i ' y / , l i k e L i c h t e n b e r g , h a s c h a w n n u u h i n s p i r a t i o n f r o m E n g ­

l a n d . Ί h i s i s s o b o t h r e g a r d i n g t h e p h i l o s o p h i c a l a n a l y s i s o f t h e

e m o t i o n s ( H u m e ' s Klenie j i t s o f Cr i t i c i sm w a s a v a i l a b l e i n a

( i e i n i a n t r a n s l a t i o n ) , b u t a b o v e a l l f o r t h e d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h e

] ) u r e l y p h y s i c a l s e i j u e n c e o f i n c i d e n t s d u r i n g d i f f e r e n t e m o ­

t i o n a l s t a t e s . W e h a v e s e e n h o w a t f i r s t i t w a s ( i ö z ' s i d e a t o

d e m o n s t r a t e s h i f t i n g s c a l e s o f e m o t i o n o n a s i n g l e n e u t r a l

f i g i n e . A f t e r w a r d s h e f o u n d i n m o n o d r a m a a n o p p o r t u n i t y

F i g · 3 3 · F i g . 3 4 .

Figs. 33-34. J . F. von Göz. Two figures from " 1 0 0 Character-Züge".

l o d i s p l a y h i s o b s e i \ a t i o n s i n a m o r e m e a i i i i i g i u l a n d c a } ) t i v a t -

i n < > w a y d i r o u g h a i i g u r e i n a d r a m a t i c c o n t e x t . W e h a v e

i i n t h e r s e e n h o w h e e m p h a s i z e s t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f r e s p i r a t i o n

a n d t h a t h e d e s c r i b e s t h e m o v e m e n t s o f t l i e e y e h d s w i t h g r e a t

( a r e . A l l t h i s l e a d s o n e ' s t h o u g h t s t o t h e a r t i c l e b y P a r s o n s

w i t h A v l i i c h ( i f ) / \ v a s d o u l ) t l e s s f a m i l i a r t h r o u g h t h e i n t e r ­

m e d i a r y o f B u f f o n ( ( f . c l i a p t e r i , p . 2 9 a b o \ e ) . I n t h i s c o n ­

n e d i o n w e r e m e m b e r h o w M i l e . ( J a i r o n p r a c t i s e d r e f l e c t i n g

i n h e r f a c e s w i l l l y c h a n g i n g m o o d s , a n d t h a t l a t e r i n h e r

m e m o i i s s h e r e c o n n n e n d e d U n f f o n f o r t h e s t u d y o f t h e f a c i a l

n u i s c l e s . I t i s n a t u r a l t h a t Gi ' ) / . w i t h h i s g r e a t i n t e r e s t i n

a n a t o m y s h o u l d h a \ e s e i z e d u p o n t h i s s i d e o f t h e a r t o f a c t i n g

a n d b e e n c o n c e r n e d t o d e v e l o p i t .

C i ( " ) z ' s W'YsncJ i i s a d v e i t i s e d i n t h e Thra tcr -Ka lc j idcr f o r 1 7 H 3 ,

t o g e t h e i ' w i t h J . [ . K n g e l ' s Mimik . C i ö z w r i t e s (Vcrsuch . .

J ) . ( > 3 ) t h a t i f f i e h a d k n o w n o f t h i s h e w o u l d s c a r c e l y h a v e

\ e n t u r e d t o j ) u b l i s h h i s o w n b o o k w i t h o u t f i r s t h a v i n g c o n ­

s u l t e d t h e w o r k o f t h i s c e l e b r a t e d m a n , b u t p r a c t i c a l c o n -

siderat ions had j ) ie \cntcd him ironi doing so (Kngel 's Mimik

was not j )ubl is l icd niui l 1 7 8 5 ) . As a mat ter of lact , even i l

( iö / had been able to s tudy the woik i t Λνοπ1(1 not l iave been

ol mu(h use to him. Behind Kngel ' s book, too, l ies vSulzer ' s

appeal lor a col lect ion ol "redenden (Feberden", and more ­

over the desire to leal i /e L.essing 's ideas about a science ol

act ing. The book is \ery much in the nature of a compila­

t ion, gather ing everything that has been wri t ten abot i t

physiognomy, pathonomics and c harac terology from ant ic jui ty

via Descar tes to Lebrun and from the Abbe Dubos via the

French reformeis to Hume, Home and Lavater . Engel ' s book

is c leai ly a i ranged; he fol lows the t radi t ional form Avith a

survey of the different emotions which he analyses with the

aid of a somewhat pretent ious scient i f ic a j ) ] )a ia tus . But he

has no clear preference for a par t ic tdar s tyle of act ing. He

mixes discussions of exj^ression of emotions with physiognomical

c:)bservat ions and chai acterological analyses . For Engel , as for

Lessing, Fkhofs act ing was the pat tern to be fol lowed, but his

way of regarding the ])erfc)rmer 's wOrk on himself foreshadows

a markedly eclect ic act ing s tyle of the type pract ised by

Iff lancl . Fngel ' s book was of immense importance for the

act ing of the f iuiue; and i t must be pointed out that i t was

more than a mere compendium, s ince i t contained valuable

] : )ersonal psychological obser \a t ions.^ · ' · I t was rapidly t ranslated

into a number of languages and in 1 8 4 5 a new edi t ion aj)-

j )earecl in Ciermany, with a |}reface by Ί heodor \ i inidt . More ­

over , i t se t the j )a t tern for books on act ing technicjue and

theory r ight up to our own t imes.^^ '

Ci() / ' s work had no inf luence l )eyond his own narrow circle .

I t is t rue that i t was concerned with demonstrat ing his method

in a highly special ized genre, but this l imitat ion is not suf­

f ic ient to explain why the book was so completely over­

shadowed l)y Fngel ' s Mimik. Many parts in more conven­

t ional plays would lend themselves admirably to being isolated

and worked through, j )hase by phase, in words and pictures .

There exis ts one excel lent example of such a presentat ion in

pictures; 1 refer to the drawings by the Henchel brothers

of I f f land 's interpretat ion of Harpagon, (λ Α. Bcit t iger was

able to produce some carelul ly worked-out writ ten analyses

i n h i s ] ) o o  ' Ej i t xo ichch i i ig des I j j Jand i sc i io i Sp ie l s i n v i e r zehn

Ddï s t e l lungen ( lu f dem Wei tnar i sehe Hoj thea ter im Apr i l Λ ί ο -

ndth 7 7 9 ^ ) . P > ü t b o t h t h e s e w o r k s a i e a t t e m p t s , i n p i c t u r e s i n

o n e c a s e a n d i n w o r d s i n t h e o t h e r , t o p r e s e r v e l o r p o s t e r i t y

t h e a c t i o n o l a g r e a t p e i i o n n e r . T h e r e a r e n o e x a m p l e s f r o m

t h i s ] ) e r i o c l o l t i c t i x e m o n o g r a p h s f o l l o w i n g ( i ( ' ) / ' s m e t h o d .

\ \ ( i h a \ e s e e n t l i a t i n LoKivdo und Bhn id i f i e C i c ) / . d i d n o t

m a k e a n y a t t e m p t t o d e p i c t t h e c h a r a c t e r s o f t h e d r a m a t i s

j ) e r s o n a e . I h e y a r e n o t i n c l i v i c h i a l s c o n d i t i o n e d l ) \ t h e i r m i l i e u

a n d t h e i r p e r s o n a l p e c u l i a r i t i e s b u t c a r r i e r s o f g e n e r a l l u m i a n

e m o t i o n s . C » ( ) / ' s m e t h o d w a s d e x i s e c l b y h i m w i t l i a v i e w t o

d e s c r i b i n g e m o t i o n a l c h a n g e s , ß u t w h e n t h e b o o k w a s p u b l i s h e d

t h i s w a s n o l o n g e r t h o u g h t t o b e s u c h a n u r g e n t t a s k . T h e r e

w a s a i e \ u l s i o n f r o m S t u r m u n c i D r a n g , l ) o t h i n d r a m a t i c

l i t e i a t u i e a n d i n a c t i n g . E n g e l a n d S c h i n k d e m a n d e d c : ) f t h e

a c t o r s o f t h e n e w e r a t h a t t h e y s h o i d c l d e p i c t i n d i v i d u a l c h a r a c ­

t e r s r e a l i s t i c a l l y b u t w i t h i n t h e b o i m d s o f b e a u t y . I n h i s

Mimik K n g e l r e f e r s w i t h d i s t a s t e io t h e " c i r c u s t r i c k s " w h i c h

c a n b e s e e n o n t h e s t a g e . A s a n e x a m p l e h e a d d u c e s t h e a c ­

t i o n i n Ariadne '^^ " M a n s i e h t e i n e Ariadne w e n n s i e v o n d e r

( i ö t t i n n d e s F e l s e n s i h r t r a i n i g e s S c h i c k s a l e r f ä h r t , m i t d e r

g a n z e n L ä n g e i h r e s K c h p e r s h i n s c h l a g e n ; s c h n e l l e r , a l s o b

s i e \ c ) m B l i t / e g e t r o f f e n w ü r d e , u n d m i t e i n e r C i e w a l t , a l s o b

s i e s i c h d i e M i r n s c h a l e z e r s c h m e t t e r n w o l l t e . " I n Dramatur ­

g ische Fragmente S c h i n k c r i t i c i z e s m o n o c i r a m a f o r i t s d e f i c i e n t

c h a l a c t e l i z a t i o n . T h e s e u s , A r i a d n e a n d M e d e a a r e t o o l i t t l e

i n c l i \ i d u a l i z e d , t h e t e x t i t s e l f g i v e s u s o n l y a s i t u a t i o n , n o t i t s

b a c k g r o u n d . ^ · ' T h e p i n e s t u d y o f e m o t i o n s w a s i n a c t u a l f a c t

n e \ e r t r u l y a j ) p r e c i a t e c l , e i t l i e r b y t h e p u b l i c o r b y a c t o r s — i t

w a s t o o e x c l u s i v e . P e o j ) l e p r e f e r r e d L a x a t e r ' s s u p e r s t i t i o u s

] ) s y c h o l o g y .

W e h a v e p i e s e n t e d G ( ) z a s a t y p i c a l e x p o n e n t o f t h e C i e r m a n

S t u r m u n c i D r a n g m o x e m e n t o f t h e l y / o s , b o t h w i t h r e g a r d

t o p e r s o n a l i t y a n d a r t i s t i c s t y l e . P e r h a p s i n s o d o i n g w ^ e h a v e

n o t s u f f i c i e n t l y s t r e s s e d h i s o r i g i n a l i t y . Ί h e T h e a t e r - K a l e n d e r

c a l l e d h i m " e i n O r i g i n a l g e n i e " ( s e e p a g e 7 3 a b o v e ) a n d t h e

f i r s t i m p r e s s i o n o f a p r e s e n t - c l a y r e a d e r o f C i o z ' s b o o k i s t h a t

h e i s i n t h e p r e s e n c e o f a n e x c e p t i o n a l w o r k . G c ) z w a s n o t

t a l e n t e d a s a v r i t e r , a n d h i s a b i l i t y a s a d r a u g h t s m a n w a s

e v e n m o r e m o d e s t ; a n d a l t h o u g h h e w a s a c a p a b l e d i r e c t o r

h e w a s u n a b l e , o w i n g t o t h e p o o r l i g h t i n g t h e n a v a i l a b l e , t o

s h o w e v e n i n a s m a l l t h e a t r e t h e m o r e s u b t l e c h a n g e s i n i a c i a l

e x p r e s s i o n a n d g e s t u r e s l o r w h i c h h e s o u g h t . H e w a s w o r k i n g

f o r a m e d i u m w h i c h d i d n o l y e t e x i s t ; i t i s h a r d l y t o o f a n c i f u l

t o s a y t h a t h e w a s i h e f i r s t g r e a t f i l m d i r e c U ) r .

Fig. 35. J. F. von Göz. Self-portrait.

#

W e h a v e d w e l t o n ( » ( " ) / ' s m o n o d i a m a Lc iu i rdo und B land i i i e

b e c a u s e i t i s a n i n t e r e s t i n g e x a m p l e o f h o w a g e r n e w h i c h

i t s e l f s t a n d s o u t s i d e t h e o r d i n a r y t h e a t r i c a l l e p e r t o i r e c a n b e

u s e d i n i t s t i n n f o r f u r t h e r e x p e i i m e n t s — i n t h i s c a s e t h e

r e f i n e m e n t o f a d i v e r s i f i e d , ] ) s y c h o l o g i c a l l y p r e j ) a r e c l a c t i n g

o f t h e e m o t i o n s , a r e a l i z a t i o n o n p a p e r o f t h e e x p e i i m e n t s

i n t e r m i t t e n t l y m a d e b y a c t o r s o f t h e 1 7 5 0 s . A s m e n t i o n e d i n

t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n t h e r e i s a f u i t h e r e x a m ] ) l e i n C x o e t h e ' s Fro-

scrp 'u ja , a l t h o u g h i n t h i s c a s e t h e r a n g e o f p r o b l e m s i s c o n -

s i c l e i a b l y m o r e c o m j ) a c t .

I n h i s Tag mid J f i l i r c shc f t c ( f o r 1 7 8 0 ) C i o e t h e w r i t e s : " B e i

C i c l e i > e n h e i t e i n e s L e i b h a b e r t h e a t e r m u l f e s t l i c h e r T a g e w u r ­

d e n g e d i c l u e t u n d a u l g e i ü h i t : . . . P r o s e r j M n a , l e t z t e r e f r e v e n t ­

l i c h i n d e n Ι Ί i u i n j ) f d e r K m p f i n d s a n i k e i t e i n g e s c h a l t e t u n d i h r e

W i r k u n g \ e r n i c h t e t . " " · " Der ΊΊΐ ιυηρ/ ι des Einp j indsarnkc i t i s

a s a t i r i c a l c o m e d y w h i c h w a s j ) e r f c ) r m e d a t W e i m a r i n 1 7 7 S

w i t h m u s i c b y B a i o n \ ο η S e c k e n d o r f f ; C i o e t h e a p p e a r e d a s

t h e " h u m o r i s t i s c ! i e r " k i n g A n d r a s o n a n d ( C o r o n a S c I n c i t e r a s

h i s c j u e e n M a n c l a n c l a n e , t h e o t h e r p a r t s b e i n g p l a y e d b y

a m a t e u r s f r o m t h e c o i u t . I n t h i s p ièce (Voccas ion ( i o e t h e h a d ,

i n a s p i i i t o f p a r o d y , i n c o r | ) o r a t e c l h i s m o n o d r a m a Proserp ina .

W e h a v e a l r e a d y s e e n h o w i n 1772 C i o e t h e h a d i n t r o d u c e d a t

W e i m a r t h e f i r s t m o n o c l r a m a , R o u s s e a u ' s Pygynal iou , w h i c h i n

i t s t t n n i n s p i r e d B r a n d e s t o w r i t e t h e s u c c e s s f u l Ar iadne au f

\axos . I t i s n a t u r a l t h a t C i o e t h e h i m s e l f w a n t e d t o a t t e m p t

t h e g e n r e a t a t i m e w h e n t h e a m a t e i n t h e a t r e a t W e i m a r w a s i n

f e v e r i s h a c t i v i t y a f t e r t h e f i r e o f 1 7 7 . 4 a n d t h e t r a n s f e r e n c e o f

t h e S e y l e i · t i o u p e t o G o t h a . Proserp ina , h o w e v e r , w a s n o t a t

f i r s t i n t e n d e d f o r W e i m a r . I t s o r i g i n s a r e d i s c u s s e d i n a n

a r t i c l e b y E r i c h S c h m i d t , " ' ^ c o n s i d e r s i t p r o b a l ) l e t h a t i t

w a s b e g t n i i n 1 7 7 ^ ) a s a l a m e n t f o r ( P l u c k ' s l ) e l o \ ' e d n i e c e

M a r i a n n e , w h o h a d d i e d t h e c l a y b e f c ^ r e t h e f i r s t j ^ e r f o r m a n c e

o f Ah es te . C i l u c k w a s p r o f o u n d l y a f f e c t e d b y M a r i a n n e ' s d e a t h

a n d a s k e d v a r i o u s G e r m a n p o e t s t o c o m p o s e a m e m o r i a l p o e m

w h i c h h e w o u l d t h e n s e t t o m u s i c . T h r o u g h W ' i e l a n d , G o e t h e

g c : ) t t o k n o w o f C U u c k ' s w i s h a n d i m m e d i a t e l y b e g a n t o p r o d u c e

a s u i t a b l e t e x t . 1 h i s t e x t , a c c o r d i n g t o S c h m i d t , w a s w h a t w e

n o w k n o w a s Proserp ina . H u t ( i l u c k n e v e r r e c e i v e d i t f r o m

( i o e t h e ; l i k e s o m a n y o t h e r t h i n g s t h e w o r k w a s p u t a s i d e

h a l f - f i n i s h e d a n d w a s n o t r e s u m e d — a g a i n a c c o r d i n g t o S c h m i d t

— u n t i l t h e f o l l o w i n g y e a r . C ^ l n i s t e l v o n L a s b e r g ' s s u i c i d e a n d

( À ) r n e l i c ' s d e a t h m a y l i a v e p u t C i o e t h e i n t h e r i g h t m o o d t o

c o m p l e t e h i s m o n o c l r a m a o n P r o s e r p i n e . I t w a s p i i n t e d i n t h e

PentseJ ien Merkur i n F e b r u a r y 1 7 7 H . U u t l ) y t h a t t i m e i t

h a d a l r e a d y b e e n i n c o r p o r a t e d i n Der Tr iun ip j der Empf ind­

samkeit in a performance on 30 Jaiiuary 1778.·"'-

T h e m y t h o f P i o s e r p i n e ' s a f x l u c t i o n , a s O v i d t e l l s i t , i s r i c h

i n p o e t i c a n d d r a m a t i c s i t u a t i o n s . A s t h e s t a r t i n g p o i n t o f h i s

p r o s e p o e m C i o e t h e h a s c h o s e n a s i n g l e e p i s o d e : t h e m o m e n t

w l i e n P r o s e r p i n e e a t s o f t h e p o m e g r a n a t e a n d i s t h e r e l ) y f o r -

c \ c r b o u n d l o P l u t o , t h e i i i l c r ο ί t h e I J n c l e i w o r l d . Ί h e Λ ν ΐ ι ο ί ε

m y t h i s m i r r o r e d i n I ^ r o s e r p i n e ' s t h o u g h t s a s s h e w a n d e r s

s o n o w i u l l y t h r o u g h t h e s o m b r e l a n d s c a p e o i O m i s . H e r m o n o ­

l o g u e i s a d e s p a i r i n g l a m e n t o \ e i ' t h e l o s s o i h e r l i i e w i t h t h e

g o d s a n d o v e r h e r h o p e l e s s s i t u a t i o n i n t h e r e a l m o t s h a d o w s .

S h e i s t o i t m e d b y t h e t h o u g h t o l t h e g r i e l o l t h o s e s h e h a s

l e i t b e h i n d , s e e s h e i I r i e n d s ' t e n o r a n d t h e d e s p e r a t e s e a r c h ­

i n g o l h e r m o t h e r . A t l i r i l l o l h o p e p a s s e s t h i o u g h h e r h e a r t

w h e n s h e c a l l s u p o n h e r l a t h e r [ u p i t e r . W h e n s h e d i s c o v e r s

t h e ] ) o m e g r a n a t e s h e b e l i e v e s t h . a t i t w i l l a l l e v i a t e h e r t r o u b l e s

i l s h e e a t s o f i t . ß i u a t t h e s a m e m o m e n t s h e i s p i e r c e d b y a

l e a i l t d p a i n , t h e F a t e s p r o n o i m c e u p o n h e r t h e i n e x o r a b l e

j u d g m e n t . P r o s e i p i n e b r e a k s o u t i n \ i c ) l e n t c t u s e s a n d , s h r i e k ­

i n g , d e c l a r e s h e r h a t r e d f o r P l u t o . Ί h e m i g h t y c r e s c e n d o i s

a d d e d t o b y t h e F a t e s ' l e p e t i t i o n o i t h e i r t r i i m i p h a n t a c c l a m a ­

t i o n o l h e r c j i i e e n l y d i g n i t y .

Ί h e e m o t i o n a l l y c h a r g e d c o n c l u s i o n c : ) c c i i j M e s o n l y a c j u a r t e r

o l t h e m o n o l o g u e ; t h a t i s t o s a y , t h e g r e a t e r p a r t o l t h e p l a y

i s o f p t u e l y l y r i c a l c h a r a c t e r . P r o s e r p i n e s w i n g s l ) e t w e e n s o r ­

r o w , h o p e a n d r e s i g n a t i o n , b u t t h e s e f e e l i n g s a r e m u t e d

t h r o u g h G o e t h e ' s a d m i r a b l e j j o e t i c i m a g e s . P r o s e r p i n e i s n o t

t o r t i u e c l b y a t r a g i c : c o n f l i c t o f c o n s c i e n c e , s h e i s a s a c r i f i c i a l

l a m l ) , a s l a v e t o f a t e ; w h e n s h e p l u c k s t h e p o m e g r a n a t e s h e

i s n o t b e i n g p l a c e d b e f o r e a c h o i c e , a t e m p t a t i o n t o p i c k t h e

f o r l ^ i d d e n f r u i t . H e r u n a w a r e n e s s m e a n s t h a t h e r a c t i c : ) n a s

( k ) e t h e p r e s e n t s i t i s n o t i n t h e t r u e s e n s e d r a m a t i c . T h e t e x t i s

e n t i r e l y s e l f - c o n t a i n e d , f i d l y c o m p r e h e n s i b l e w i t h o u t a n y c o m ­

p l e m e n t a r y a c t i o n . Ί h e r e a r e o n l y t h r e e s t a g e d i r e c t i o n s : " S i e

b r i c h t d e n C i r a n a t a p f e l a b " , " S i e i s t e i n i g e K ö r n e r " a n d " ( D i e

P a r / e n ) u n s i c h t l ) a r " ; b u t e \ e n t h e s e a r e n o t a b s o l u t e l y n e c e s ­

s a r y .

O n e c a n n o t a g r e e w i t h S c h m i d t w h e n h e w r i t e s : " C i o e t h e

h a t i n P r o s e r p i n a , m i t w e i s e r ß e n i U / i m g e i n e s ü b e r l i e f e r t e n

S c h e m a t i s m u s , d a s c l a s s i s c h e M o n o d r a m a g e s c h a f f e n . " · ' » · ' ^ Pro­

serp ina i s n o t t h e g r e a t c l a s s i c a l m o n o d r a m a b u t a n e x c e p t i o n ,

a d e - d r a m a t i / e d m o n o d r a m a m o r e c l o s e l y r e s e m b l i n g t h e d e ­

c l a m a t o r y w o r k s o f r o m a n t i c i s m , s u c h a s , f o r e x a m p l e , A V ' e b e r ' s

Der er s t e To j i , w h i c h w a s c o m p o s e d t o w o r d s b y R o c h l i t / . We

h a v e s h o w n t h a t Proserp ina l a c k s a t r a g i c , d r a m a t i c s i t u a t i o n ,

Ol a coi i i l id οί consciciuc. In addit ion, the text does not, as

in the ty j) i(al inonodranias, consist ol incoherent detached

l i n e s . 1 h i s i n l a d s l r e n i > t l i e n s S c h m i d t ' s t h e o r y t h a t P r o s c r p i u d

was oi ioinal ly a memorial poem intended loi ' Ci lnck. I t i s

\ery probable that i t d id not assume the form of a monoclrama

unti l ( loet l ie res inned work on i t . But i f Proscrpi j ia i s thus not

the typical "class ical" monoclrama i ts c jual i ty as a work of art

cannot be chal lenged. I t is , indeed, a part icular ly beauti f id

monologue of lament; the fact that the words do not need

music and act ion does not mean that i ts l )eauty cannot be st i l l

f in t her accentuated by a s tage performance.

As stated abo\e, P r o s e r p i n a was printed in 1 7 7 8 , immediately

af ter i ts f i rs t performance in Weimar. But i t was then not

presented as an independent mc:)noclrama but used for pur-

])oses of parody in Der Triut i ip l i der Euipj i j idsdrnkci t . The

act ion in this J^lay i s as fol lows:

In an imaginary realm lives a king, Anclrason, who clearly loves

his consort Manclanclane, possessor of al l the wifely virtues. But

this pattern of love and faithfulness has begun to fall in love with

the sensitive Prince Oronaro. King Anclrason, returning from a visit

to an oracle in search of counsel, visits his sister Princess Feria. She

and her laclies-in-waiting are told of his unenviable situation and

the uin'ntell igible airswer which he has been given by the oracle.

But Anclrason is hopeful; he has heard that Prince Oronaro, too,

intends to visit the oracle and is to call upon Princess Feria on

the way. It is now agreed that Feria's ladies shall try to charm

Oronaro in order to make him forget Manclanclane. 1 he prince

arri\'es with an immense amount of baggage; this proves to contain

forest scenery consisting of wings and set-pieces which are assembled

in his room. According to his ecjuerry the prince always takes these

things Avilh him l)ecause his health and sensibil ity cannot tolerate

the ever-changing reali i ies of nature. Fhere is also a mysterious

chest, but the curious maidens l iave to leave the room when this

is about to be opened. Ί he chest j )roves to contain a doll made in

the image of Manclanclane. When Oronaro leaves to visit the oracle

the girls can no longer contain themsehes; entering his room, they

discover the doll, which they at f irst believe to l)e the real Man­clanclane until they tear the mask from the face. Fhe body of the effigy they find to be a sack stuffed with novels of sensibility, t h e " ( i r u n c l s u p p e " o f \ v h i c h c o n s i s t s o f La nouv é l l c Hé lo ï s e a n d Di e Leiden des jungen ]Verthers. In the meanwhile Anclrason has returned to his castle to fetch his cjueen. Fhey arrive at Feria's palace just at the time when the doll is being discovered. Anclrason

has the idea of putting Maiulandanc in the artificial grove instead of the doll . The play ends with Oronaro returning to visit his grove and the object of his emotions; he l)econies unhappy and complains that he does not lo\e his "di\ine image" as he did before, l ie does not regain his happiness initil he gets l)ack the Mandandane doll and can cherish his own inlatuation in peace. \ow the royal c ( ) U})le can renew their vows of faithfulness. The l^lay ends with "Kin gros­ses Ballet".

A s w i l l b e s e e n , t h e w h o l e } ) l a y i s b u t a t r i f l e — a v e r y a i i u i s i n g

o n e w i t h c j i i i c k , c l e v e r a n d d r y r e j ^ a r t e e s , a n t m i b e r o f c o m i c

s i t u a t i o n s , l ) e g t i i l i n g s o n g s a n d d a n c e s a t i n t e r v a l s , a n d a g o o d

d e a l f o r t h e e y e w i t h a n t n i i b e r o f s c e n e c h a n g e s ; t h e s e t -

p i e c e s a r e m o v e d b y m e m b e r s o f t h e c a s t e w i t h p a n t o m i m e

a c t i o n s i n t h e s p i r i t o f D i d e r o t . F r o m t h e p o i n t o f v i e w o f

i d e a s t h e p l a y i s a t i l t a g a i n s t t h e h y s t e r i c a l l i t e r a r y s e n s i b i l i t y

o f t h e c l a y . B u t G o e t h e a l s o t i n n s t h e s a t i r e a g a i n s t h i m s e l f .

J η t h e p r i n c i } ) a l s c e n e w h e n t h e d o l l i s e m } ) t i e c l o f i t s b a l l a s t

o f n o v e l s , r i g h t a t t h e b o t t o m t h e r e i s a c o p y o f W e r t h e r .

B u t w h a t o f t h e m o n o c l r a m a m o t i f i n t h e p l a y ? W h e n

A n c l r a s o n t e l l s F e r i a ' s m a i d e n s o f h i s w i f e ' s s t r a n g e b e h a v i o t n ^

w h i l e s h e i s p i n i n g f o r t h e a b s e n t j ^ r i n c e , h e r e m a r k s t h a t

a m o n g o t h e r t h i n g s s h e f i n d s g r e a t d e l i g h t i n p r e s e n t i n g m o n o -

d r a m a s . T h e f o l l o w i n g e x c h a n g e o c c t n s :

M a u a : \Vas sind das für Dinge? Andrason: Wenn iln' ( iriediisch kr)nntet, würdet ihr gleich wissen dass das ein Schauspiel heisst, wo nur eine Person spielt. La to : Mit wem spielt sie denn? Andrason: Mit sich sell)st, das \ersteht sich. Lato : IMui, das nuiss ein langweilig Spiel sein! A ndraso j i : Für den Zusc hauer wohl. Denn eigentlich ist die Person

nic ht allein, sie sj)ielt aber dot h allein: demi es ktinnen noch mehr Personen dabei sein, Liebhaber, kannnerjungfern, Najaden, Oreaden, 1 lamadryaden, Fhemänner, Hofmeister; aber eigentlich spielt sie für sidi, es bleii)t ein Monodram. Ks ist el)en eine λοη

den neusten Krfindungen; es lässt sich nidu darüber sagen. Solche Dinge finden grossen Heihdl.

S ora : Und das spielt sie ganz allein für sich? Andrason : () ja! Oder, wenn etwa Dolc h oder (iift zu bringen

ist-clenn es geht meistens etwas bunt lier- wenn eine schreckliche Stimme aus dem Felsen oder durchs Schüsselloch zu rufen hat, scjlche wichtige Rollen nimmt der Prinz über sich, wenn er da ist, oder in seinem Al)wesenheit ihr Kammerdiener, ein sehr alberner Burche; aber dass ist eins.

I l l Older t o e n s n a r e O r o n a i o A n d r a s o i i p r o p o s e s t h a t t l i e

g i r l s s h a l l p l a \ a i n o n o c l r a n i a . I l i e y ( o n u n e i i c e a l i v e l y d a n c e ,

b u t A n c l r a s o n s t o j ) s t h e m ; t h i s w i l l n o t d o a t a l l , h e w i l l s h o w

t h e m h o w i t s h o u l d b e :

[Stage direction] Sanltc Musik. Er macht ihnen die hergel)nicIlten Bewegungen vor, womit che Schauspieler gewöhnlich die Emplin-

(hnigcn auszudrücken denken. Andrason: Habt ihr wcjlil achtgegeben, Kinder? Erstlich, immer den

Leib vorwärts gel)ogen und mit den Knien geknicht, als wenn ilu' kein Mark in den Knochen hättet! Hernach, immer eine Hand an der Stirne und eine am Herzen, als wenn's euch in Stücken springen wollte; mitunter tiel Atem geliolt, und so weiter. Die

Schnupltücher nicht vergessen!

I n t h e f o l l o w i n g s c e n e , w h e r e t h e p r i n c e ' s e c p i e r r y M e r k t d o

s h o w s t h e f o r e s t s c e n e r y t o t h e c o t n t l a d i e s , t h e g i r l s a s k

w h e t h e r t h e j ^ r i n c e h a s a t r o t i p e o l p l a y e r s w i t h h i m . M e r k t i l o

r e p l i e s t h a t h e h a s n o t ; l o r t h e m o s t p a r t h e a c t s a l o n e . H e

c o n t i n t i e s a s l o l l o w s :

Mc rku l o : Ei? — Sehen Sie, meine Damen, das ist eine Erfindung oder vielmehr eine AViederauffindung, die unsern erleuchteten Zeiten aufbehalten war. Denn in den alten Zeiten, schon auf dem rö­mischen Eheater, waren die Monodramen vorzüglich eingeführt.

So lesen wir zum Exempel vom Nero-Maiia: Das war der böse Kaiser? Merhu lo : Es ist wahr, er taugte von Haus aus niclits, war aber drum

doch ein exzellenter Schauspieler. Er spielte bloss Monodramen. Denn ersthch sagt Suetonius-Nun, das werden Sie alles in der trefflich gelehrten Schrift eines luisercr Akaclemisten über diese Scliausj)ielart lesen. Sie wird auf Befehl unsers Prinzen geschriben und auf seine Kosten gedruckt. Wir fidnen aber auch die neusten Werke auf, wie man sie von der Messe kriegt: Monodramen zu zwei Personen, Duodramen zu dreien und so weiter.

Sora : Wird denn auch drin gesungen? Merhu lo : Ei, gesungen und gesprochen! Es ist weder Melodie noch

(iesang drin, deswegen es auch manchmal Melodram genannt

wird.

^ I h e n e x t p a r t o f t h e m o n o d r a m a i s p l a y e d a t A n d r a s o n ' s

c a s t l e . I n a w i t t y p r o l o g u e M a n d a n d a n e ' s v a l e t d e s c r i b e s a s

" A s k a l a p l u i s " t h e s c e n e r y r e p r e s e n t i n g " e i n e r a u h e l u i c l f e l ­

s i g t e ( i e g e n d , H ( ) h l e i m f e l s i g t e G r i n u l e " . I h e n t w o s p i r i t s

o f t h e U n d e r w o r l d e n t e r a n d p l a c e a p o m e g r a n a t e t r e e o n

t h e s t a g e . M u s i c i s l i c a r c l a n d \ i a i u l a i u l a n e c o r n e s i n a s P r o ­

s e r p i n e . S h e d e l i v e r s h e r m o n o l o g u e o t h m i e n t , w h i c h e n d s

w i t h l i e r d e c l a i m i n g t h e w o r d s " W i e h a s s i c h d i c h , A b s c h e u

u n d ( i e m a h l , ( ) P l u t o ! P l u t o ! " D u r i n g t h e s e w o r d s A n d r a s o n

c o m e s i n ; s h e H e e s Î r o m h i m a n d h e s t a n d s a m a z e d . A f t e r ­

w a r d s h e d e s c r i b e s t h e i n c i d e n t t o F e r i a ' s m a i d e n s i n t h e f o l ­

l o w i n g w o r d s :

Andrason : . . . Wie ich in meinen Schlosshof hincintrete, ihr Kinder, höre ich oben ein (iel)rause, ein Cietöne, Rufen, hohles Anschlagen und eine Wirtschaft durcheinander, dass ich nicht anders dachte, als der wilde Jäger sei bei mir eingezogen. Ich gehe hinauf: es wird innner ärger; die Stimmen werden inivernehmlicher luid hohler je näher icli komme; nur meine Frau höre ich schreien und rufen, als wenn sie unsinnig geworden wäre. Cianz verwun­dert tret ich in den Saal. Ich finde ihn finster wie eine Höhle, ganz zur Fhihle dekoriert, und mein W^eib fährt mir in inige-heurer Leidenschaft und mit entsetzlichem Fluchen auf den Hals, traktiert mich als Pluto als Abscheu, und flieht endlich vor mir, class ich eben wie versteint darstelle und kein Wort hervorzul^riii-gen weiss.

M ana: Aber um Gottes willen, was w^ar ihr denn? A ndrason: Wie ich's beim Licht besah, war's ein Monodrama!

Ί h u s w e h a v e h e r e a m o n g c : ) t h e r t h i n g s a s a t i r e o n t h e a c t u a l

t e r m / / / o / / o c l r a m a . 1 h i s i s , A n d r a s o n s a y s , a } ) l a y w i t h b u t o n e

p a r t , l ) u t i n w h i c h o t h e r j ^ e o p l e a s s i s t , f o r e x a m ] > l e , b y b r i n g ­

i n g k n i v e s o r p o i s o n , o r a s s e d u c t i v e \ o i c e s c a l l i n g t h r o u g h

k e ) h o l e s ; y e s , A f e r k u l o r e m a r k s , t h e r e a r e e v e n m o n o c l r a m a s

f o r t w o j ) e c ) p l e , c h i o d r a m a s f o r t h r e e , a n d s o o n . B u t a b o v e

a l l i t i s t h e s ty le of w h i c h i s d e r i d e d . I h e r e i s g r e a t

c o m i c e f f e c t i n t h e s c e n e w h e i e A n c h a s o n t r i e s t o t e a c h t h e

g i l l s t h e a t t i t u d e a n d g e s t u r e s o f s e n s i b i l i t y ; f i r s t a n d f o r e ­

m o s t i h e y m u s t i n c l i n e t h e b o d y f o r w a r d , t h e k n e e s b e n t . I h e n

t h e y s h o u l d b e c a r e f u l t o c l a s p t h e f o r e h e a d w i t h o n e h a n d ,

t h e b i e a s t w i t h t h e o i l i e r , a s i f t h e y w e r e a b o u t l o e x p l o d e .

I n t h e t l i i r c l p l a c e , d u r i n g t h i s i h e y m u s t h o l d t l i e i r b r e a t h

a n d n o t f o r g e t t h e i r h a n d k e r c h i e f s . D e c l a m a t i o n , t o o , g e t s

r o u g h t r e a t m e n t f r o m C k ) e l h e . W h i l e s t i l l i n t h e c o u r t y a r d

A n c h a s o n h e a r s a l e a r f u l n o i s e . W h e n h e g e t s c l o s e r h e d i s ­

c o v e r s t h a t i t c o m e s f r o m a s i n g l e p e r s c j i i , h i s w i f e , w h o i s

s h o u t i n g a n d s h r i e k i n g a s i f d e m e n t e d . 1 h e w h o l e t h i n g i s a

\ Χ Ί ) n i a l i i i o i i s b u t a p t ( l e s e r i p l i o n ο ί t h e i n o i i o c h a i n a s t y l e ,

a s \ v e h a v e l e a r n t t o k n o w i t . W ' e n o t e t h a t t h e i i u i s k : i s a b ­

s o l v e d i i o n i c r i t i c i s m , a s i s a l s o t h e j ) o e t i y .

/ V s a l r e a d y m e n t i o n e d , Der Tr i i i f f i p f der Er i ip j i ju l sa inkc i t

w a s j ) e r r o r m e c l o n 3 0 j a n t i a r y 1 7 7 H , l o r t h e b i i t h d a y o t D u c h e s s

L o u i s e ; t h e r e w a s a r e j ) e a t p e r l o r m a n c e o n 1 0 F e b r u a r y , l l i e

c o m p l e t e t e c h n i c a l r e s o i n c e s o i t h e t i i e a t r e w e r e p u t i n t o t i s e

a n d g r e a t c a r e h a d b e e n c l e x o t e c l t o t h e c o s t i u n e s . 1 h e a c c o i n i t s

s h o w t h a t t h e d r e s s o i M a n d a n d a n e - P r o s e r p i n e w a s i n C i r e c i a n

s t y l e , o l w h i t e a t l a s c l o t h w i t l i s i l v e r t r i m m i n g s . K r a u s h a d

d e s i g n e d t h e c o s t i u n e s i n s u c h a w a y t h a t t h e y w o u l d e m | j h a s i / e

t h a t t h e c h a r a c t e r s w e r e i n t e n d e d t o b e c a r i c a t i u e s ; I h e

c o s t i n n e o t P r o s e r p i n e , h o w e \ e r , d o e s n o t s e e m t o h a v e h a d

a n ) c o m i c e x a g g e r a t i o n s ; i t w a s p r o b a b l y v e r y b e a u t i t i d , i n

t h e s t y l e o l t h e A r i a d n e c o s t i u n e o l ( C h a r l o t t e B r a n d e s . · ' ' ^ I t

i r i a y b e a s k e d w h y ( i o e t h e s a c r i l i c e d h i s Proserp ina t e x t t o

t h i s t h e a t r i c a l j e s t . P r o b a b l y , h o w e v e r , i t w a s b e c a u s e o i a

l a c k o l t i m e . H e h a d t o h a v e t h e p l a y r e a d y i o r t h e D u c h e s s ' s

b i r t h d a y a n d i t w a s d o u b t l e s s t o n g e n i a l i c 3 r h i m t o c o m p l e t e

t h e p i c t u r e o l t h e a b s t n d i t i e s o t t h e S t i n n i u n c i D r a n g m o v e ­

m e n t w i t h a m o n o d r a m a . S o h e t o o k t h e o n e w h i c h w a s n e a r e s t

t o hand—Pros e r p uu i .

F r o m t h e s a m e y e a r t h e r e i s a n e x a m p l e o f a c o m i c m o n o -

d r a m a . I n t h e Theater -Jo i i r f ia l ( 1 7 7 8 ) S c h i n k w r i t e s a n a r t i c l e

e n t i t l e d " l i e b e r d a s m u s i k a l i s c h e D u o d r a m a m i t t m d o h n e

( j e s a n g " . I h e r e h e s a y s t h a t i n M a g d e b i n g h e s a w H e r r B e r g e r

a n d M a d a m e \ ' i n k t r o m D ö b b e l i n ' s t r o u p e a p p e a r i n c o m i c

i n t e r n i e / / i t o r t w o p e i s o n s . I h i s i n s j ) i r e d h i m t o w ^ i t e a

m u s i c a l d u o d r a m a t o r t h e m . I n t h e a r t i c l e h e w i s h e s t o s h o w

t h a t a d u o d r a m a n e e d n o t b e m a d e o n t h e p a t t e r n o t Ar iadne

a n d t h a t a c o m i c ] ) l a y o l t h i s k i n d i s c j u i t e c o n c e i v a b l e . I n t h e

Theater Kalender t o i " t h e s a m e y e a r h e g i v e s a n e x a m p l e :

" D o k t o r F a u s t ; e i n k o m i s c h e s D u o d r a m a . " F a u s t ' s m o n o l o g u e s

a r e i n m o n o c l r a m a s t y l e a n d i n a d d i t i o n t h e r e a r e a r i a s , c h i e t s

a n d c h o i i i s e s . B u t h e r e w e h a v e n o t a s a t i r e b u t a p i n e e n t e r ­

t a i n m e n t . F r o m a r a t h e r l a t e r t i m e t h e r e a r e t w o p u r e p a r o d i e s

o t m o n o c l r a m a . O n e i s i n h u m o i o u s V i e n n e s e s t y l e , w i t h w o r d s

b y P e r i n e t a n d m u s i c : b y S a t / e n h o v e n ; i t w a s p e r t o r m e d a t t h e

L e o p o l d s t i i d t e r 1 h e a t e r i n i 8 o | . 1 h e s e c o n d , f r o m 1 8 0 5 , b y

K o t / e b u e a n d i s e n l i t l e d : Ar iadne au f Naxos , c 'u i t rag iko i i i i s c l i c s

Tr iodrania . I t w a s i n t e n d e d t o b e } ) c r l o r n i e d w i t h ß e n d a ' s

o i i o i n a l m u s i c . I s t e l d e s c r i b e s i t a s c o a r s e a n d v a n t o n , w i t h O m a n y e c h o e s o i S c h l e g e l ' s Luc i i idc . H e c l o u l ) t s w h e t h e r i t w a s

p e r l o i n i e c l i n a t l i e a t r e a t A s a m a t t e r o i i n t e r e s t i t m a y

b e m e n t i o n e d t h a t K o t / b t i e ' s t r i o c h a m a w a s i n f a c t p h i y e d

a t l e a s t o n c e i n a t h e a t r e — a t M a h i i ö i n S w e d e n i n 1 8 0 7 . ' · ' '

W ' e h a v e s e e n ( i o e t h e i i s i n g m o n o c h a m a i o r j ) i n p o s e s o i

p a r o d y , a b o v e a l l t o p i l l o r y a c e r t a i n t y p e o l a c t i n g . B u t i t

i s n o t e w o r t h y t h a t h e n o w h e r e c r i t i c i z e s t h e i o r m a s s u c h ,

t h a t i s t o s a y , a l i t e r a r y t e x t w i t h m u s i c a l i n t e r j j o l a t i o n s w ^ i i c h

a c c e n t u a t e t h e e m o t i o n a l c o n t e n t o f t h e t e x t . W e s h o i d c l t h e r e ­

f o r e n o t b e s u r p r i s e d t h a t h e l a t e r r e t i n n e d t o t h i s g e n r e .

H e e n c o u n t e r e d i t a g a i n d u r i n g t h e j ^ e r i o d w h e n h e w a s

s e a r c h i n g f o r m o d e l s f o r a c l a s s i c a l l y b e a i u i f t d a c t i n g s t y l e .

I n a l e t t e r w h i c h h e w r o t e ( 1 7 9 8 ) t o S c h i l l e r , w e r e a d a s f o l ­

l o w s : · " ' ^

Über Pygmalion wollen wir methodisch zu Werke gehen, denn wenn man, bei der grossen Einigkeit in Grundsätzen, einmal ül)er Beurteilung einer Erscheinung in Opposition ist, so kommt man gewiss auf schöne Resultate, wenn man sich verständigt. Ich glaube, wir werden bald einig sein, denn man kann von diesem Mono-dram nur insofern spreclien, als man die Manier des franz(")sischen tragischen Theaters inid die rhetorische Behandlung eines tragi­schen oder hier eines sentinientalen Stoffs als zulässig voraussetzt; verwirft man diese vcill ig, so ist Pygmalion mit verworfen: lässt man sie aber mit ihrem Werte oder Ihiwerte gelten, so kann auch hier Lob und U adel eintreten.

C i o e t h e h e r e r e j e c t s R o u s s e a u ' s Pygmal ion a s l i t e r a t u r e , b u t

a p p i c ) \ e s o f i t a s t h e b o o k o f a p l a y , j ) r o v i c l e d i t i s p r e s e n t e d

i n t h e a p p r o p r i a t e s t y l e . T h e l e t t e r i s i n r e | ) l y t o a c r i t i c i s m

f r o m S c h i l l e r c o n c e r n i n g I f f l a n d ' s s e c o n d s e a s o n i n W e i m a r ,

A p r i l - M a y 1 7 9 8 . S c h i l l e r h a d w r i t t e n t o C i o e t h e c p i e s t i o n i n g

a m o n g o i l i e r t h i n g s t h e c h o i c e o f p l a y s , a b c 3 v e a l l R o u s s e a u ' s

Pygt ) ia l ion . H e w 1 i t e s a s ί ο 1 1 ο w s :

. . . t 'ber die Wahl der Stücke haben wir uns hier gewundert, besonders aber hat mich die Wahl des Pygmalion befremdet. Denn wx'nn darunter wirklich das Monodram gemeint ist, welches, deucht mir, Benda komponiert hat, so werden Sie. mit Meyern, einen merk­würdigen Beleg zu den unglücklichen Wirkungen eines verfehlten

Φ

(ic,genstandes t'rlc'l)c'ii . l 's isi ηπΊ- al ) S()lut u n h c i^reii l ic h, wie ein

Schauspieler, audi bloss λοη einer ^an/ gemeinen Praxis, den Be-

^riir seiner Kunst so sehr aus den AuiL^en setzen kann, um einer

so irosti^en. handlungskeren und unnatiirl iei ien Fratze sidi vor

dem i*ul)l ikum abzuijuälen . . .

Ί h e d i i i c i s i i i d i e l n o t , h o w e v e r , j ^ e i s u a d e ( i o e l h e t o c l i a n g e

h i s a r r a n g e m e n t s ; I l H a n d ] ) l a \ e c l Pygmal ion i n ^ V e i n l a r o n

2 7 A j ) r i l i 7 ( ) S . ( i . A . B c i t t i i ^ e r w r o t e a n e n t h u s i a s t i c r e v i e w · i n

t h e Jounid l des Luxus und der A iodcn ( M a y 1 7 9 8 ) . I n i t

h e j ) r a i s e s I l l h n u r s p i c t u r e s ( j i i e g e s t i n e s a n d a t t i t u d e s , h i s

e x p r e s s i v e e y e s a n d l l e x i b l e f e a t u r e s , h i s i i e r y d e c h i m a t i o n a n d

t h e n i a s t e i l y v v a y h e h a s o l v a r y i n g t h e c h a p i n g s o f h i s c l o a k

( c Γ . F i g . ^ ^ ( ) ) . i n h i n d ' s a b i l i t y t o a t t u n e h i s a c t i o n s t o t h e

m u s i c i s a l s o a d m i r e d l ) y B o t t i g e r , ß e n c l a ' s m u s i c ( c o m p o s e d

i n i 7 7 ( ) ) . o n t h e o t h e r h a n d , i s r e f e r r e d t o A v i t h o u t m u c h

e n t h u s i a s m . I n B c u t i g e r ' s e n r a p t u r e d e u l o g y t h e r e i s n o r o o m

f o r a n a n a l y t i c a l a c c o u n t o f t h e j i e r f o r m a n c e . I n c o n n e c t i o n

w i t h t h e d i s c u s s i o n b e t w e e n C i o e t h e a n d S c h i l l e r m e n t i o n e d

a b o v e i t w o u l d b e u s e f u l t o h a v e a c l e a r e r i d e a o f t h e c h a r a c ­

t e r o f I f f l a n d ' s c l a s s i c i z i n g a c t i o n , h i s t o g a s t y l e . F ' o r t u n a t e l y

t h i s i s p o s s i b l e . I t w a s n o t w i t h o u t r e a s c : ) n t h a t G o e t h e

c h e r i s h e d g r e a t e x p e c t a t i o n s c o n c e r n i n g I f f l a n d ' s a b i l i t y t o

j ) r e s e n t P v g m a l i o n i n t h e a j ) | ) r o p r i a t e s t y l e . D u r i n g h i s f i r s t

s e a s o n i n W e i m a r , i 7 ( ) ( i , I f f l a n d h a d c r e a t e d i n t h e s a m e

c l a s s i c i z i n g s t y l e t h e p a r t o f t h e h i g h p r i e s t i n K o t z e b u e ' s

Die Sounoi juugjrdu . A b o u t t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n w e a r e v e r y

w e l l i n f o r m e d , t h a n k s t o ( λ A . B o t t i g e r ' s t r e a t i s e : E n t w i c k e -

l u j i g d e s I j j l a n d i s c J i c u S p i e l s i n v i e r z e h n D a r s t e l l u n g e n a u f

d e m ] V e i } } i a r i s e i u ' n H o j t J i e a t e r i m A p r i l M o n a t J i

B ö t t i g e r m a k e s a v e r y c a r e f u l a n a l y s i s o f I f f l a n d ' s a c t i n g i n

t h e l o l e o f h i g h p r i e s t . H e i s i n s p i r e d b y i t t o w r i t e f u l l e r

t h e o r e t i c a l c o m m e n t s t h a n f o r a n y o f t h e o t h e r p a r t s . T h e

m o t t o h e c h c : > s e f o r h i s b o o k o n I f f l a n d i s a c j u o t a t i o n f r o m

F k h o f — " D i e S c h a u s p i e l k u i r s t i s t b e l e b t e B i l c l n e r e y " ; t h i s , f r o m

t h e a r c h a e o l o g i s t l ^ c i t t i g e r , w a s h i g h l y s i g n i f i c a n t . I n c o n c e i v ­

i n g t h e r o l e o f h i g h p r i e s t I f f l a n d h a d l a i d t h e e m p h a s i s o n

v i s u a l b e a u t y . J ^ c i t t i g e r d e s c r i b e s t h e c o s t i m i e w i t h t h e c a r e

o f a n a r c h a e o l o g i s t . I f f l a n d w o r e a l o n g w h i t e t u n i c o f p r i e s t l y

t y j ) e h e l d t o g e t h e i w ^ i t h a b l a c k g i r d l e . O v e r t h i s W M S a s o r t o f

7 - 663206 Höhnst y öm 97

Fig. 36. I f f land as Pygmalion. Painted by Graff .

m a n t l e w h i c h l o n n c c l a b r o a d i l a } ) i r o i n t h e l e f t s h o u l d e r o v e r

t h e b r e a s t a n d c o x e r e d t h e u n d e r g a r m e n t a s t a r a s t h e b e l t .

O n e e n d o i t h i s m a n t l e g e n e r a l l y r e s t e d o v e r t h e l o w e r p a r t

o i t h e l e f t a r m ; s o m t i m e s I i i l a n d h e l d t h e h e m w i t h t h e

l i n g e r s b e n t s l i g h t l y i n w a r d s , a n d a t o t i i e r s h e c a s t i t i r o n i

h i m w i t h a p a s s i o n a t e g e s t u i e . W h e n t h i s a r m t o o k p a r t i n

t h e g e s t i c u l a t i o n t h e s l o w s w i n g i n g a n d f o l d i n g o f t h e d r a p i n g

h e l p e d t o o b v i a t e t h e c o l d l i g i d i t y a n d u n i i o i m i t y A v h i c h a n

o f t - r e p e a t e d a r m m o v e m e n t i s o t h e r w i s e a p t t o p r o d u c e . N o w

t h e c l o a k i n c o m i e c t i o n w i t h I f f l a n d ' s f i n e , s m ( X ) t h l y r o u n d e d

a m i s a n d h a n d s i o r m e d a n a t t r a c t i v e w a v e - l i k e m o v e m e n t .

B ö t t i g e r i s c l e a r l y i n i l u e n c e d b y H o g a r t h ' s a e s t h e t i c s , a l t h o u g h

h e d o e s n o t m e n t i o n h i s n a m e . O n t l i e o t h e r h a n d h e r e f e r s

t o Q u i n t i l i a n ' s r u l e s l o r t h e d r a p i n g o f a n o r a t o r ' s t o g a . H e

37· I f i land as Regulus . Three scenes drawn by the brothers Henchel .

j K ) i n t s o u i t h a t i n i n o c l e n i t i m e s i t i s L e k a i i i w h o f i r s t s a w

t h e g r e a t a d v a n t a g e o l t l i e l o n g c l o a k a s a t h e a t r i c a l c o s t u m e .

N e \ e r t h e l e s s , a l l t h e s e c o s t u m e s i n t h e s p i r i t o l L e k a i n h a v e ,

i n B o t t i g e r ' s o p i n i o n , b e e n i n a d e c j u a t e , w i t h t h e i r m i x t u r e

o f a n t i ( ] u e a n d m o d e r n . R ö t t i g e r a l s o c h a w s a w h o l l y m o d e r n

p a r a l l e l w h e n h e w r i t e s : " W h a t t h e s h a w l i s l o r t h e c e l e b r a t e d

I j idy Hanul to f i w h e n , i n s w i i t l y c h a n g i n g d r a p i n g s , i t c o n j u r e s

u p b e i o i e t h e a m a z e d s p e c t a t o r s t h e m o s t g r a c e l u l a n t i q u e

l o r n i s , s o t h e m a n t l e i s i o r l l i l a n d a s t h e h i g h p r i e s t . I n t h i s

l i g i n e a s k i l l i d c h a u g h t s m a n c o i d c l i i n d m o t i f s e c j u a l t o t h o s e

R e h b e r g l o u n d i n L a d \ H a m i l t o n , o r s o m e ß e r l i n a r t i s t s h a v e

r e c e n t l y l o u n d i n t l i e p a s - c l e - d e u x o f ' D e r Z a u l ) e r i n ' V i g a n o . "

L a d y H a m i l t o n ' s a r t w i l l b e d e a l t w i t h i n d e t a i l l a t e r o n .

K y " ' D e r Z a i d o e r i n ' V i g a n o " B ö t t i g e r m e a n s t h e d a n c e r M a r i a

\ ^ ' g a n o , n é e M e d i n a , w h o w a s m a r r i e d t o S a h a t o r e V i g a n o ,

X o v e r r e ' s l o i e m o s t p u p i l . Ί h e V ^ i g a n o s h a d c r e a t e d a f i n o r e

i n \ i e n n a i n 1 7 9 , ^ ' j ) a r t l y o w i n g t o M a i i a ' s r e v o l u t i o n a r y

( o s t u m e ; s h e w o r e a w i i i t e m u s l i n t i m i c a n d s a n d a l s , h e r

h a i r b e i n g h e l d u j ) l o o s e l y b y a c o m b . I n i 7 i ) 6 t h e y a p -

] ) e a r e d i n B e i l i n , a g a i n w i t h g r e a t s u c c e s s . I h e ] ) o e t v o n

( r ( ) k i n g h w r o t e : " w e n n d i e V ^ i g a n o s i c h b e w e g t s o i s t s i e

Fig. 38. Danzatr ice . Engraving af ter a fresco a t Herculaneum. C. 1760.

From Antichi tà c l iErcolano, vol . 3 , p . 143.

v ö l l i g d e n i n c l e i L u f l s c h w e b e n d e n F i g u r e n i n d e n K u p l e i -

s t i e h e n d e r H e r k u l a n i s c h e n A l i e n i n n e r ä h n l i c h " . ( C i f . F i g . 3 8 . )

T h e i r d a n c i n g w a s d e p i c t e d b y S c h a d o w i n a s e r i e s o f e n g r a v e d

s h e e t s ( c f . F i g s . 3 9 , 4 0 ) . T 1 i e h i s t o r y o f t h i s s e r i e s o f p i c t u r e s

i s a s f o l l o w s . I h e p a i n t e r W a c h i n a n ] ) r o d u c e d a s e r i e s o f e n ­

g r a v i n g s o f M a d a m e V i g a n o ' s f i r s t p e r f o r m a n c e . O n e o f t h e s e

s e r v e d a s t l i e p r o t o t y p e f o r a s m a l l s t a t u e i n j ) o r c e I a i n w h i c h

w a s p r e s e n t e d t o h e r . \ l o w e v e r , s h e w a s n o t s a t i s f i e d w ' n h t h e

r e s t d t ! ) u t a s k e d t o b e c l e j ) i c t e d i n ( o r r e c t ] ) o s i t i o n s . A m i n i s t e r ,

v o n H e i n i t / , s a w ^ t o i t t h a t " d i e s e A t t i t ü d e n v o n e i n e m g e ­

s c h i c k t e n Z e i c h e n e r , e t w a v o n e i n e m l l a i s i n g e r o d e r b e s s e r

v o n H e r r n R e k t o r S c h a d c : > w , w i e d i e L a d y F i a m i l t o n v o n R e h -

] ) e r g e x e k u t i e r t w e r d e n n u k l u e n " .

I f f l a n d ' s h i g h | ) r i e s t w a s n e v e r d e p i c t e d f o r p o s t e r i t y a s L a d y

F i a m i l t o n ' s a t t i t u d e s w e r e b y R e h b e r g . B u t t h e H e n c h e l

Fig. 39-40. Maria \ ' igano in two at t i tudes. Engravings by Schaclow, 1796.

l ) i o l h e i s d r e w i h r e e p h a s e s Î r o i n h i s j ) h i ) i i i g o f R e g u l i i s i n

( À ) n i i r s t i a g e c l y ( F i g . ^ 7 ) · 1 h e s e p i c t u r e s , t o g e t h e r w i t l i G r a f f ' s

P y g n i a h o i i j ^ o r t r a i t a n d B o t t i g e r ' s d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h e a c t i n g

i n Die So i iucu ju i ig j rau , g i v e a f a i r l y g o o d i d e a o f I f f l a n d ' s

v v a \ o f w e a r i n g t h e t o g a . I t w a s , a s w e l i a v e s e e n , n o t a l o n e

i f f l a n d ' s \ i r t i i o s i t y i n d r a p i n g w h i c h e n c h a n t e d B o t t i g e r . F o r

h i m t h e \ i s i o n o f a n i i ( | n i l y w a s a l s o s t u n n i o n e d i i j ) b y t h e

a c t o r ' s f i n e h a n d s a n d e x c j i i i s i t e g e s t u r e s , i n o t h e r w o r d s ,

( h i r o n o n i y , " t h e a r t o f s p e a k i n g w i t h t l i e h a n d s " . I n t h i s c o n ­

n e c t i o n B c i t t i g e r a l s o r e f e i s t o B u f f o n , w h o c a l l s t h e h a n d

t h e m o s t h u m a n o l t h e b o d y ' s m e m b e r s . B u t h e s a y s t h a t

a l t h o u g h I f f l a n d h a d l a i d m o s t e m ] ) h a s i s o n t h e ] ) i c t i n e s c j t i e

h e d i d n o t n e g l e c t t o j ; o r t r a y t h e e m o t i o n s . B c k t i g e r w r i t e s

t h a t a w h o l e t r e a t i s e o n e x j ) r e s s i o n w o i d d b e n e e d e d to d e s c r i b e

t h e t i a n s i t i o n f r o m a x e i s i o n t o c o n t e m p t a n d t h e n c e t o t e r r o r .

H e t h e r e f o r e c o n f i n e s h i m s e l f t o a r e f e r e n c e t o K n g e l ' s p s y c h o ­

l o g i c a l o b s e r v a t i o n s o n t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n t h e s e e m o t i o n s

w h i c h s h a d e o n e i n t o t h e o t h e r .

H ö t l i g e r t r i e s l o e x p r e s s e v e r y i h i n g l i e h a s s a i d o f I i i l a n d

a s " ( i e b e r d e n i n a h l e r " u n d e r a n u m b e r o f h e a d i n g s , a l t h o u g h

h e i s ( j u i t e a w a r e t h a t i t i s d a n g e r o u s t o g e n e r a l i z e o n t h e b a s i s

o f a s i n g l e j ^ e r f o r n i a n c e . H e s u n n n a r i / e s h i s o b s e r v a t i o n s i n

t h e f o l l o w i n g s i x j ) o i n t s :

1. Al l i i iovenicnts (Porte-bras) arc more or less percept ibly pre­pared by i r ieans oi "swinging" motions. I he spectators must be made to sense the content of the l ines in advance, as is done by French actors .

2 . rhe soft ly rounded arm was never lowered violent ly . I t was raised, kept s t i l l and then lowered in a ful ly roiuuled gesture . I his , too, is a rule f rom French declamation. La Rive and other good actors can present a whole t i rade by le t t ing one gesture shade over into another . I t is not unt i l the end that they gent ly lower the arm.

3. During al l the di l ierent movements of the arm one never saw the wris t bent or twisted. I f a "Porte- l ) ras" is s t i f f , dry and ugly, the reason l ies in neglect of the rule which prescr ibes that one nuis t a lways move the arm with the hand, never the hand without the a rm . He re Bo t t i ge r i nvokes Hé rau l t Seche l l e s ' s a r t i c l e i n Décade ph i l o soph ique .

4. Ί he posture of the body was given freedom and harmony by a scarcely perceptible incl inat ion of the head and the u})per part

of the body. Fhe arms were ne\er raised above eye level according

to Quinti l ian 's "normal angle", but owing to the incl inat ion of the head they seemed to be higher than they were in real i ty.

5 . No })art of the l)ody was inact ive; everything was in the f inest

harmony, a harmony which is fanul iar to those who have beheld the art in former days but which modern art is tes too frecjuently neglect .

() . I f f land was able to g ive to this grace and precis ion of his

gestures a l l the f inest nuances which could be contained in each part icular s i tuat ion: i t was this that Lessing cal led " individual ise-

renden Gesten". By careful ly combiiung nudtipl ici ty with s implici ty he ful f i l led what Lichtenl)erg cal led in ( iarr ick "das konventionel le Sc hone".

B ö t t i g e r ' s e x c e p t i o n a l p o w e r s o f o b s e r v a t i o n w e r e j ) a r L l y

i n n a t e a n d p a r t l y t h e r e s i d t o f h i s a r c h a e o l o g i c a l t r a i n i n g . Ί η

a d d i t i o n l i e h a d b y d i l i g e n t s t u d y a c ( | t i i i e d a c o n s i d e r a b l e

t h e o r e t i c a l k n o w l e d g e o f t h e a r t o f a c t i n g , m a i n l y t h r o u g h

( i e n i i a n w r i t i n g s s u c h a s L e s s i n g ' s a n d L i c h t e n b e r g ' s d e s c r i p ­

t i o n s o f G a r r i c k , E n g e l ' s Mimik a n d S c h i n k ' s e s s a y s . H e w a s a l s o

g r e a t l y i n f l u e n c e d b y F l o g a r t h ' s a e s t h e t i c s . T h e a n a l y s i s o f

I f f l a n d ' s a c t i n g a s t h e h i g h p r i e s t i n Die So?uicn j in ig f rau g a v e

him (xcasion lo draw paral le ls with dassical French act ing.

He mentions Du Hos, Marmontel , Alemberl and Sechel les .

The uncleis lancl ino which he shows oi French declamalion is

remarkable lor the l ime—i yijC).

l l was ihe lul ly rounded lorm and anl i -natural s tyle that

iascinatecl ( joelhe in 111 land 's interpietat ion oi Pygmalion

during the hi t ter ' s second season in \ \YMmar in lyi jcS. I he only

person who wholeheartedly shared his opinion was Bc 'kt iger ,

whom, howevei , (»oethe tended to regard with indulgent

i rony. He wri tes in a le t te i : "Freund ßckt iger brütet , wie ich

merke, an einer Didaskal ie über Pygmalion. Fs wird wahr­

scheinl ich wieder e in sauber Stückchen Arl)ei t werden.

I he clel ini t i \e or ientat ion towards French act ing took place

when ( ioe the on i ( ) Sep tember ly i j c ) r ece ived WiUic lm von

HlunholdVs le t ter i rom Paris . ' · - In this Humboldt descr ibes

the French t i agic ac t ing—esj^ec ia l ly thai o i I a lma—in relat ion

to the contemj)oiary ( ierman style . Fie points out that the

s t \ le jMact isecl in the French theatre is t rue ar t . In facial

expiession and gest iculat ion, in post ine and grouping, i t is

c lose to pictor ia l ar t ; the beaut i iul declamation seeks i ts models

in musical harmoin. Humboldt maintains that the s t rength

oi the ( ierman theatre l ies in a natural is t ic , indi \ idual analysis

of spir i tual processes , but lacks aesthet ic c jual i ty and modera­

t ion. Fie makes a subt le anahsis oi the di l lerent concept ions

oi the term "nature" in the t^vo countr ies ; he considers that

i t is th is dispar i ty that has created the s tyl is t ic di i terences. Of

Ί alma he sa\s that he combines a l ine physical presence Λνίί ΐ ι

a j ) icturescjue s l\ le . Because oi his ski l l in drawing, every

s i tuat ion takes on a painterh image in his imagination. Talma's

moxements are beauti iul and harmonious, his post ine is noble

and iul l oi grace. A painter could leain much by s tudying

his at t i tudes. I t must not be thought i rom this that i t i s a

c juest ion ol i solated beauti iul ]) ictures such as can be seen in

other aclois; 1 alma's act ing is an unbroken chain ot pictures.

I a lma's iac ia l control, wri tes Humboldt, is surpris ingly ex-

jM ess ive, his gest in es natural and not excess ively bound to

the rules . He lakes l ibeit ies Avhich the French theatre has

not pre\iously a l lowed, such as turning his back on the

audience. \\1ien iheie is a j)plause he ne\er s tands st i l l , im ­

m o v a b l e a s a s t a t u e , a s o t h e r s u s u a l l y d o . N e v e r t h e l e s s H u m ­

b o l d t f i n d s i t r e m a r k a b l e t l i a t o n t h e F r e n c l i s t a g e a t t i t u d e s

a r e o l t e i i h e l d l o r a l o n g e r t i m e t l i a n t h e y w o u l d b e i n t h e

G e r m a n t h e a t i e . A s a n e x a m p l e h e m e n t i o n s t h a t a n a c t o r

l e a v i n g t h e s t a g e w i t h r a i s e d a r m s h o l d s t h i s g e s t u r e u n t i l h e

h a s d i s a p p e a r e d i i o m \ i e w . J η C i e r m a n ) t h i s a c t i o n w o u l d b e

d o n e ( p i i c k l y a n d v i o l e n t l y ; i n F r a n c e t h e y o b s e r v e t h e u n ­

h u r r i e d c a l m w h i c h i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f a l l a e s t h e t i c p o s i t i o n s .

Ί h e l e t t e r w a s o f d e c i s i v e i m ] ) o r t a n c e f o r C i o e t h e ; l a t e r i n

1 8 0 0 h e p r i n t e d i t i n FropyUio i . 1 h a t h e h i m s e l f c a s t I f i l a n d

i n p a r t s s u c h a s P y g m a l i o n a n d t h e h i g h p r i e s t i n t h i s c o n t e x t

c a n b e s e e n f r o m t h e f o l l o w i n g p a s s a g e , t a k e n f r o m t h e l a s t

f a s c i c l e o f FropyUic)} , t h e i n t r o d u c t o r y n o t e s t o " E i n i g e S / e n e n

a u s M a h o m e t n a c h V o l t a i r e .

Kein Freund des clcutschci i theaters wird den Aufsatz üiK'r d ie gegenwärt ige i ran/ösischc t ragische Hühne mit Aii i i i ierksarnkei t lesen, ohne zu wünschen, chiss , in ibeschadet des Originalsgangs, den wir e ingeschlagen haben, die Vorzüge des franzi is isc hen Fheaters auch auf das unsr ige herül^er gelei te t werden möchten.

Er wird s ich überhaupt an If l lands obl igates Spiel , inul i^esonders an die Darstel lung des Pygmalion und des Oberpriesters der Sonne sogleich er i rniern luul s ich f reuen, dass wir dasjenige, was wir im ( ianzen wünchen, im Einseln schon besi tzen.

1 h e c l a s s i c a l \ V e i m a r s t y l e b e g i n s f r o m t h i s t i m e . O n e c a n

f o l l o w C i o e t h e ' s l a b o r i o u s e f f o r t s t o c r e a t e a c l a s s i c i z i n g r e ­

p e r t o i r e a n d a n a c t i n g s t y l e o f t h e k i n d h e h a d s e e n r e a l i z e d

b y I f f l a n d a n d n o w w a s a l ^ l e t o j u s t i f y t h e o i e t i c a l l y b y r e i e r e n c e ,

a m o n g o t h e r t h i n g s , t o H i n n b o l d t ' s t r e a t i s e , f i e h a d t o c a r r y

t i n o u g h h i s i d e a s w i t h r e c a l c i t r a n t a c t o r s a n d a n o n e t o o

e n t h u s i a s t i c p i d ^ l i c , a n d , t o s o m e e x t e n t , i n c o n l l i c t w i t h

S c h i l l e r . D i n i n g t h e n e x t f e w y e a r s t i i e r e w e i e | ) r e s e n t e d i n

W Y ^ i m a r p l a y s b y \ ' o l t a i r e , l e r e n c e ( i n a n t i c j u e m a s k s ) , A . A V .

S c h l e g e l { Ion) , F . S c h l e g e l (A hire os ) , C i o e t l i e h i m s e l f ( t h e f i n a l

\ e r s i o n o f Ip lngo i i c ) a n d S c l i i l l e r [Brau t von Aîcss inn)} ' ' ^

Ί h e W e i m a r s t y l e , t h a t h o t - h o u s e p l a n t o f t h e a t r i c a l a r t ,

c i d n u ' n a t e d i n a l l i t s l e f i n e d , e x c l u s i v e b e a i u y w i t h a s p l e n d i d l y

s t a g e d p r o d u c t i o n o f Proscrp 'nu i i n 1 8 1 4 . A f t e r h a v i n g b e e n

l a i d a s i d e l o i n e a r l y 4 0 y e a r s t h i s ] ) i e c e w a s p e r l o i n i e d f o r

10.1

the f i is t t ime in i ts or iginal foi in as a nionodrania . I t was not

unt i l then that Ciocthe (onsidcred l i inisel i able to gi \e i t

the external lorni ol wii ic l i he had only had a vague concep­

t ion when the work was wri t ten. Now he had clear aesthet ic

j ) i in( i | ) lcs ior the ( lass i i i / ing s tyle oI act ing, as wel l as an

ac t ress , a scene designer and a music ian who could real ize

his ideas . He himsel i considered that the Weimar theatre was

a t i ts ] )eak a t this moment . ' ' · " ' In a le t ter to Zel ter he wri tes : ' '^ '

Meine Proserpina lial ) C ich /ür Ί riigcrin \χ)η al lem gemacht was

ehe neuere Zeit an Kunst und Kunststücken geiunclen und be­günstigt hat: 1. Heroische iandscliaitlic he Dekoration, 2. Hamil-tonisch-Hiindelische C»el)ärden. 3. Kleiderwechslung, 4. Mantelspiel und 5. sogar ein ral)leau zum Schluss, das Reich des Pluto vor­stellend, uiid das alles i)egleitet von der Aiusik, die du kennst, welche diesem übermässigen Aui>ensc hinaus zu willkommener Würze dient.

I he s l ight ly i ronical tone is tnimistakable , but cer ta inly

does not represent ( ioethe 's a t t i tude to his product ion. Ihe

external e l iects \vere no empty suj : )er i ic ia l d isplay, ( ioethe did

nc3t sui ter Î roni any j ) tni tanical fear that spir i tual i ty would

decl ine in proport ion to the increase in visual beat i ty .

A short explanat ion in the le t ter to Zel ter \vas expanded

by ( joe the in to an a r t i c l e wh ich he p td^ l i shed in the Journa l

für Li teratur , Luxus und Mode 1815 (no. 4 , pp. 226 i l" . ) . I t is

in terest ing to note Cioethe 's declared intent ion in wri t ing the

ar t ic le : "Eigent l ich aber is t d ie je tz ige Aulsatz für Direkt io­

nen gesc hr ieben, welche die Part i t tn- dieses Stücks Λ erlangt

haben oder \er langen könnte , damit dieselben s ich in den

Stand gesetzt sehen, auch aid ihrer ßühne einen gleichen, ja

\ i l le icht lui l iern EKekt her \orzid)r ingen." Hie ar t ic le serves

as a j ) ract ical guide to the j ) roduct ion, being clear and com­

prehensible in iorm. I t begins with a shoi t s tn vey of the con­

tents of the play. 1 hen fol lows a l is t of the var ious e lements

uj jon which the performance is based:

1. Dekorat ion.

2. Rezi ta t ion mul Deklamation.

K()r j )er l ic he Bewegimg.

4 . Mitwirkung der Kleidung.

5 . Musik, und zwar a) indem sie die Rede beglei te t , b) in den

sie an maler ischen Bewegungen auÎtorder t , ( ) indem sie

den Clhor melodisch eintreten lässt .

Al les dieses wird durch ein 1 ableau geschlossen und vol lendet .

These s ix points wil l now be considered one by one:

1. ( ioethe wants a set t ing which can remain throughout

the play. I t must show the Underworld, not as a deser ted, but

ra ther as a ravaged, place. According to ant ic jue concept ions

the Underworld was a ruined s})ot where men were forced to see

the \ani ty ol a l l their s t ruggles . I t shoidd be shown as a

landscape in the s t \ le of Poussin, a scene of natural beauty

with remains of ancient bui ldings, di lapidated acj t ieducts ,

e tc . I t would be desirable , Cioethe says, i f par t of the scene

showed a ruined vi l la ; in this way the pomegranate t ree and

the f lowers necessary for the ]) lot cot i lc l be combined in a

reasonable manner with the rest of the scenery. Goethe was

a great admirer of Poussin and his own landscape sketches f rom

his I ta l ian journey give clear evidence of s tudies in the s tyle

of that ar t is t , ß iu he also great ly admired the German land­

scape painters of his own t ime, especial ly Hackert who had

now abandoned the old veduta style and was instead ]3aint ing

ideal ized landscapes. In order to put theatr ical directors on

the r ight t rack he gives concrete examples . He recommends

the drawings of Frant / Kobel l as models for the kind of decor

he has in mind. He also says that in Berl in i t wil l be possible

to reach good residts by col laborat ion with Schinkel and Lütke.

He fur ther ment ions that in Stut tgar t there is a picture by

the deceased painter Kaa/ which woidcl be very sui table as

a model .

2 - 3 . Recitat ion and declamation nuis t be control led in the

same complete way as in Weimar. Ihe same a])]) l ies to the

movements of the body, which must be wholly ada]) ted to

and varied according to each j )ar t ic idar s i tuat ion, l l ia t Cioethe

had real ly aj^proachecl his ideal in these resj^ects can be sensed

when one reads the fol lowing in Tag und Jahrcshcf tc fc : ) r

1814:« '^

Das Monodrain l^roscrpiiia, wurde, . . . mit Madame VV^olff ein­gelernt, mul cine kurze, aber höchst bedeutende Vorstellung vor­bereitet, in welcher Rezitation, Deklamation, Mimik imd edel-bewegte plastische Darstellung wetteiferten.

C i o c l h e h a d t r a i n e d M a d a m e W o l d l o i a w h o l e \ e a r i n t h e

j ) a i l o l P r o s e r p i n e !

T h e c o s t u m e i s o l d e c i s i v e i m p o r t a n c e i o r b o c U l y m o v e ­

m e n t . A t t h e b e g i n n i n g o i t l i e p i e c e P r o s e r p i n e a p p e a r s i n

l o y a l s t a t e w i t h s e \ e r a l m a n t l e s w i t h m a n y i o l c l s , a v e i l , a n d

\ v e a r i n i > a c h a d e m . U u t w h e n s h e b e g i n s t o d r e a m o t h e r e a r l i e r

K l y s i a n e x i s t e n c e s h e c a s t s o i l t h i s p o m p a n d s u d d e n l y a p p e a r s

a s a i l o w e r - d e c k e c l n y m p h . I h i s m o m e n t s h o i d d b e d o n e

w i t h i > r e a t s k i l l s o t h a t a c l e a r c o n t r a s t e i i e c t a r i s e s . A V l i e n

l a t e r s h e i a l l s b a c k i n t o h e r p i t i a b l e s t a t e s h e s h o i d d a g a i n

t a k e o n e o l t h e m a n t l e s a n d w i t h t h i s s h e s h o u l d a c c o m p a n y

h e r m o \ e m e n t s : " s i c h b a l d d a r e i n v e r h ü l l t , s i c h b a l d d a r a u s

w i e d e r e n t w i n d e t und / u g a r m a n n i g l a l t i g e m , p a n t o m i m i s c h e n

A u s d r u c k , d e n W o r t e n g e m ä s s , / u b e n u t z e n w e i s s " . C i o e t h e ' s

d i r e c t i o n s i o r t h e p l a y w i t h t h e c l o a k l e a c l l i k e a d e s c r i p t i o n

o l i n l a n d ' s \ i r t u o s i t y i n d r a p i n g .

5 . ( . o e t h e d e s c r i b e s t h e m u s i c i n t h e i o l l o w i n g b e a u t i l u l

w o i c l s :

Der Musik . . . . welche hier ganz cigcnt l ich als der See anzusehen is t , woran! jener künst ler isch geschnüickte Nachen getragen wird, and die günst ige Lui t , welche die Segel gel ind, aber genugsam erl i i l l t , und der s teuernden Schi i ler in , bei a l len Bewegungen, nach jeder Richtung wil l ig gehorcht .

r h e m e l o d r a m a t i c t r e a t m e n t h a s , C i o e t h e w r i t e s , t h e g r e a t

a c h a n t a g e t h a t i t i s e c o n o m i c a l . I t l e a v e s t h e a c t r e s s e x a c t l y

t h e r i g h t a m o i u i t o t t i m e t o e x p r e s s t h e m a n y t r a n s i t i o n s i n

g e s t t n e s a n d n e v e r t h e l e s s t o r e s i m i e s p e e c h w i t h o u t i n t e r r u p ­

t i o n . I h u s t h e ] ) a n t o m i m i c d a n c e - l i k e p h a s e s b l e n d t o g e t h e r

w i t h t h e p o e t i c - r h e t o r i c a l p h a s e s , a n d t h e o n e k i n d h e i g h t e n s

t h e o t h e r . A n i m ] K ) r t a n t e l e m e n t , h e s a y s l i n t h e r , i s t h e c l o s i n g

c h o r u s o l t l i e F a t e s w h i c h i s i n t e n d e d t o r o u n d o f f t h e r e c i t a -

t i \ e - l i k e d e l i v e r y w i t h a i h y t h m i c a l , m e l o d i c o n e . T h e m u s i c

h a d b e e n c o m p o s e d b y E b e r w e i n , Z e l t e r ' s p u } ) i l , t o G o e t h e ' s

g i e a t s a t i s f a c t i o n .

( ) . I n t h e s a m e w a y a s t h i s c h o r a l s i n g i n g i s r e l a t e d t o t h e

d e c l a m a t i o n , s o s h o i d d t h e m o v e m e n t b e r e l a t e d t o t h e f i n a l

t a b l e a u . W h i l e P r o s e r p i n e i s b r e a k i n g o u t i n t o h e r m o s t

\ i o l e n t g e s t u r e s a t t h e m o m e n t o f s e n s i n g h e r c o n s o r t ' s

j ) r o x i m i t y , t h e b a c k g r o u n d s h o u l d o j ) e n a n d t h e r e t h e s h a d o w y

k i n g d o m s h o u l d b e s e e n , j ^ e t r i l i e d i n t o a t a b l e a t i , a n d a t t h e

s a m e m o m e n t i t s ( j u e e n s h o u l d s t i l l e n a n d b e c o m e p a r t c ^ l

t h e p i c t u r e . I h e c o n v e n t i o n s h o u l d t h e n b e l o l l o w e d o f

l o w e i i n g t h e c u r t a i n i n o r d e r t o e n a b l e t h e p i c t i n e t o b e

s e e n o n c e m o r e . W h i l e t l i e c u r t a i n i s c l o w n P r o s e r p i n e ( w h o

n u i s t s t a n d i n s u c h a w a y t l i a t t h e c u r t a i n f a l l s i n l i o n t o l h e r )

n u i s t s e a t h e r s e l f o n t h e t h r o n e b e s i d e h e r c o n s o r t , b u t t i n n e d

f r o m h i m . ( i o e t h e d e s c r i b e s i n g r e a t d e t a i l h o w t h i s t a b l e a u

w a s a r r a n g e d : i n t h e m i d d l e H a d e s w a s s e e n , d i m l y i l l u m i n e d ,

w i t h t h r e e F a t e s s t a n d i n g b e f o r e , h o l d i n g s y m b o l s ; t h i s i n f e r n o

s e r v e d a s t h e f o u n d a t i o n f o r P l u t o ' s t h r o n e . O n t h e l e f t w ^ r e

s e e n " o n t h e n i g h t s i d e " T a n t a l u s , S i s y p h o s a n d o t h e r s . O n

t h e r i g h t w e r e t h e b l e s t s o i d s , w i t h o u t d e f i n i t e i n d i v i d u a l i t y .

1 h e d a r k s i d e o f t h e d o o m e d o n e s i s c h a r a c t e r i z e d b y t h e f a c t

t h a t e a c h o f t h e m s u f f e r s a l o n e ; t h e s o i d f u l n e s s o f t h e l i g h t

s i d e i s e x p r e s s e d b y t h e c o m n u i n i t y a n d m u t u a l l o v e o f t h e

c r e a t i n e s . A t t h e f o o t o f t h e E l y s i a n h i l l i s s e e n a m o t h e r

s u r r c 3 u n d e c l b y m a n y c h i l d r e n . T h i s s h o u l d b e s o a r r a n g e d t h a t

P r o s e r j ) i n e i n h e r r o y a l s t a t e b e c o m e s p a r t o f t h e t a b l e a u a t

a p l a c e b e t w e e n t h e m o t h e r a n d t h e t h r e e "Parzen t h e

p i c t u r e t h e n r e s t s i n a c o m p l e t e d h a r m o n y . I f f o r t h e f i r s t

p i c t u r e a l a n d s c a p e } ) a i n t e r a n d a n a r c h i t e c t a r e n e e d e d ,

G o e t h e w r i t e s , h e r e a r e r e c p i i r e d t h e o f f i c e s o f a p a i n t e r a n d a

s c u l p t o r .

i n t h i s p r e s e n t a t i o n ( i o e t h e h a s m a d e b r i l l i a n t u s e o f t h e

p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f m o n o d r a m a . R u t t o t h i s t h e a t r i c a l f o r m , w h i c h

i n i t s e l f i s e x t r e m e , h e h a s f u r t h e r a d d e d t w o o t h e r g e n r e s

w h i c h l i e o u t s i d e t h e c u s t o m a r y r e p e r t o i r e . T h e s e a r e t h e

' ' f ld tn i l t ( )n i s ( l t -U( ' i } i ( l c l i ( l i c (U 'bärdcn ' a n d t h e ' 'Tdb lcd i i " . Ί h e

f i r s t t e r m r e f e r s t o t h e " a t t i t u d e s " o f L a d y l i a m i l t o n a n d A i m e .

H e n d e l - S c h i i t / , ( i o e t l i e w r i t e s i n t h e Proserp ina a r t i c l e o f

t h e s e :

Scliönc anständige k(")r j )c i he he Bewegung, an die W^iirde der Plast ik , an die Lebendigkei t der Malerei er innernd, haben eine Kunstgat tung für s ich begrihidet , welche ohne Ί ei lnahme der ( ie-

wänder nicht gedacht werden kann und deren Kinfluss s ich gleich­fal ls schon auf die Tragödie ers t reckt .

K y t h e s e c o n d t e r m h e r e f e i s t o t h e s o - c a l l e d t ab leaux xnxuu i t s

108

w h i c h h e h i m s e l f h a d h e l p e d l o b r i n g i n t o f a s h i o n . O f t h e s e

h e w r i t e s a t t h e e n d o f t h e Proscrp iun a r t i d e :

Kbcnso is t es mit den Tableaus, mit jener N a c h b i l d u n g eines ge­malten Bildes durch wirkl ic l ie Personen. Sie f ingen in Klöstern, bei Krippen, Hir ten und drei Königen an, und wurden zuletzt e in gleichfal ls f in- s ich I)estel ienclen Kunstzweig, der manchen Liebhaber reizt und beschäft igt , audi s ich einzeln schon auf dem Ί heater

verbreitet hat .

I n t h e t w o e h a p t e i s w h i c h f o l l o w w e s h a l l s t u d y t h e s e t w o

a r t f o r m s , t h e i r o r i g i n a n d t h e i r d e v e l o p m e n t u | ) t o t h e y e a r

1815.

3 . A T T I T U D E S

J h e c o l o i n i u l c a r e e r o f Kni fna , Lady Han i i l to f i , h a s | ) r o \ i c l e c l

m a t e r i a l l o r i n a n \ w r i t e r s . I n a d d i t i o n t o n i n n e r o i i s r e f e r e n c e s

i n t h e l e t t e r s a n d m e m o i r s o f c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t h e r e e x i s t a

l a r g e n i m i b e r o f b i o g r a p h i e s , m o s t o f t h e m o f m a r k e d l y r o ­

m a n t i c i z e d t y p e , ^ a s w e l l a s n o v e l s b a s e d o n t h e e v e n t s o f

h e r l i f e . I n a l l t h i s a b i m d a n t l i t e r a t t n e , h o w e v e r , o n e l o o k s

i n v a i n f o r a n a e s t h e t i c e v a l u a t i o n o f t h e c e l e b r a t e d " a t ­

t i t u d e s " , - a l t h o u g h a m o n g t h e e y e - w i t n e s s a c c o i m t s t h e r e a r e

s e v e r a l g o o d d e s c r i ] ) t i o n s o f t h e s e p e r f o r m a n c e s , i n t e r w o \ e n

w i t h t h e s a l o n g o s s i j ) w h i c h t h e i r c r e a t o r n e v e r f a i l e d t o e v o k e .

T h e e a r l i e s t e y e - w i t n e s s a c c o i m t w h i c h h a s s t i r v i v e d i s t h a t

o f Goethe , w h o w r i t e s f r o m ( ^ a s e r t a o n 1 6 M a r c h 1 7 8 7 : ^

Der Rit ter Manii l ton, der noch immer als e i igl icher Ciesandter hier lebt , hat nun, nach so langer Kunst l ie i )haberei , nach so langem Naturstudi inn, den Ciipfel a l ler Natur- und Kunstfreude in e inen schönen Mädchen gefunden. Er hat s ie l )e i s ich, e ine Engländerin von etwa zwanzig [ahren. Sie is t sehr schön und wohl gebaut . Er hat ihr e in gr iechiscl i ( iewand machen lassen, das s ie t reff l ich kleidet , dann löst s ie ihre Haare auf , ninmit e in paar Shawls und macht e ine Abwechslung von Stelhuigen, ( ie l )ärden, Mienen etc . , (hiss man zuletzt wirkl ich meint , man t räume. Man schaut , was so viele tausend Künst ler gerne geleis te t l iä t ten, hier ganz fer t ig , in Bewegung und ül)erraschender Abwechslung. Stehend, knieend, s i tzent i , l iegend, ernst , t raur ig , neckisch, ausschweifend, bussfer t ig , lockend, drohend, ängst l ich etc . , e ins folgt auls andere und aus dem anderen. Sie weiss zu jedem Ausdruck die Eal ten des Schleiers zu wählen, zu wecl iseln und macht s ich lunider t Arten von Ko])f j )utz mit den sel l )en Tüchern. Der a l te Ri t ter häl t das Licht dazu und hat mit ganzer Seele s ich diesem Ciegenstand ergeben. Er f indet in ihr a l le Antiken, a l le schönen Profi le der s iz i l ianichen Münzen, ja den Helvederschen Apoll selbst . So viel is t gewiss , der Spass is t e inzig! Wir haben ihn schon zwei AÎKMule genossen. Heute früh malt s ie Ί ischbein.

Ί W o m o n t h s l a t e r , o n 2 7 M a y , C i o e t h e w i i t e s f r o m N a p l e s

o f a s e c o n d v i s i t t o S i r W i l l i a m H a m i l t o n , w h e n M i s s H a r t

c i i t e r l a i n e d t h e g u e s t s i n t h e e x e n i n g w i t h h e r t a l e n t s . ^ H e

t e l l s h o w o n t h i s o c c a s i o n S i r A \ ' i l l i a i n t o o k h i m , t o g e t h e r w i t h

t h e l a i u l s c a p e p a i n t e r H a c k e r t , c l o w n t o a s e c r e t a r t g a l l e r y .

Ί h e r e t h e y w e r e s h o w n a n o p e n - i r o n t e c l b o x l i n e d w i t h b l a c k

c l o t h a n d h a v i n g a g o l d i r a n i e b i g e n o u g h t o t a k e a p e r s o n

s t a n d i n g u ] ) r i g h t . T h e y w e r e t o l d t h a t S i r A V i l l i a n i h a d a t o n e

t i m e b e e n i n t h e h a b i t o l h a v i n g h i s m i s t r e s s p o s e i n b r i g h t l y

c o l o u r e d c o s t i m i e s w i t h i n t h e i r a m e i n s i m i d a t i o n o f a n t i c j u e

p a i n t i n g s I r o m P o m p e i i a n d v a r i o u s m c : ) c l e r n m a s t e r p i e c e s , l l i i s

p h a s e h a d n o w e n d e d , b e c a u s e t h e a p p a r a t u s w a s t o o c i m i b e r -

s o m e t o m o \ e a b o u t a n d p l a c e i n a s u i t a b l e l i g h t . H e r e ( i o e t h e

i n t e r j e c t s a c a p t i v a t i n g l e i l e c t i o n ; t h e a c c o i u i t o i ' t h e p e r ­

f o r m a n c e i n t h e b o x m a k e s h i m t h i n k o l a n o t h e r N e a p o l i t a n

e n t e r t a i n m e n t w h i c h — h e b e l i e v e s — d e v e l o p e d f r o m t h e C h r i s t ­

m a s c r i b s . H e t e l l s u s t h a t i n t h e e b i d l i e n t N a p l e s o f t h e

t i m e t h e ( C h r i s t m a s c r i b s o f t h e c h u r c h e s w e r e r a i s e d u p t o

t h e l o o l t o p s , w h e r e t h e H o l y F a m i l y w a s d i s p l a y e d o n j ) l a t -

l o r m s d e c o r a t e d w i t h t r e e s a n d g r e e n b r a n c h e s . N c : ) w , a c ­

c o r d i n g t o G o e t h e b ' v i n g f i g t n e s w e r e a l s o p l a c e d a m o n g t h e

e l l i g i e s . I n c o t u s e o f t i m e i t b e c a m e o n e o f t h e f a v o i a i t e r e ­

c r e a t i o n s o f t h e N e a p o l i t a n f a m i l i e s a t t h e i r e v e n i n g p a r t i e s

t o r e p r e s e n t s e c t d a r p i c t i n e s w i t h t h e m e s t a k e n f r o m h i s t o r y

o r l i t e r a t t i r e . · ' C i o e t h e c o n c h i d e s h i s a c c o t u u w i t h t h e a s i d e

t h a t , a l t h o u g h a s a g u e s t h e o u g h t n o t t o d o s o , h e f i n d s t h e

b e a u t i f i d E n m i a l a c k i n g i n s o t d ; s h e h a s a n a t t r a c t i v e a p ­

p e a r a n c e b u t h e r v o i c e a n d s ] ) e e c h a r e s p i r i t l e s s a n d h e r

s i n g i n g i s w i t h o u t p a r t i c i d a r f t d l n e s s . H i s f i r s t e n t h u s i a s m

h a s e v i d e n t l y c o o l e d c o n s i d e r a b l y a n d l i a s b e e n r e p l a c e d b y

c a l m a n d d i s p a s s i o n a t e o b s e r v a t i o n . T h e f i r s t l e t t e r t e l l s h o w

h e h a s b e e n o v e r w h e l m e d b y t h i s , f o r h i m , w h o l l y s u r p r i s i n g

v i s u a l i m p r e s s i o n , h o w h e h a s b e e n t r a n s } ) o r t e d b y t h e t r a n s i ­

t i o n i i o m o n e w e l l - k n o w n a n t i c j u e f i g t i r e t o a n o t h e r , a n d l i o w

s u g g e s t i v e h e f o t m d t h e e x p r e s s i o n o f t h e w h o l e r a n g e o f

e m o t i o n a l e x p e r i e n c e .

I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g t o c o m ] ) a r e C i o e t h e ' s i m p r e s s i o n o f L a d y

H a m i l t o n ' s a r t w i t h t h e c o m m e n t s m a d e b y t h e f a s t i d i o u s

H o r a c e A V a l p o l e i n 1 7 9 1 , t h e y e a r i n w h i c h S i r A V i l l i a m

H a m i l t o n m a r r i e d h i s m i s t r e s s i n L o n c l o n : ^ ^ " . . . o n M r s . H a l t ,

S i r λ \ \ H a m i l t o n ' s ] ) a n t o m i m e m i s t r e s s — o r w n f e , w h o a c t s a l l

t h e a n t i ( j u e s l a l u e s i n a n I n d i a n s h a w l . 1 h a \ e n o t s e e n h e r

y e t , s o a m n o j u d g e , l ) u t p e o j ) l e a r e m a d a b o u t h e r w o n d e r ­

f u l e x p r e s s i o n , w h i c h 1 d o n o t c o n c e i v e , s o l e w a n t i c j u e s t a t u e s

h a \ i n g a n y e x p r e s s i o n a t a l l — n o r b e i n g d e s i g n e d t o h a v e i t . "

Λ l e w d a y s l a t e r A V a l } X) l e w r i t e s " t h a t h e h a s n o t s e e n E n u i i a ' s

a t t i t u d e s b u t o n t h e o t h e r h a n d h e h a s h e a r d h e r s i n g , l i e

t h i n k s h e r v o i c e i n " N i n a " w a s r e m a r k a b l e , w h i l e " h e r a t ­

t i t u d e s w T r e a w h o l e t h e a t r e o l g r a c e a n d v a r i o u s e x p r e s s i o n s " .

Ί h a t t h i s w a s t h e g e n e r a l j u d g m e n t i n L o n d o n i s c l e a r I r o m

a l e t t e r f r o m t h e p a i n t e r ( i e o r g e R o m n e y t o S i r \ V i l l i a m

H a y l e y , i n w h i c h h e w r i t e s : · ^ " . . . b u t h e r N i n a s t n p a s s e s

e v e r y t h i n g I e v e r s a w , a n d I b e l i e v e , a s a p i e c e o l a c t i n g ,

n o t h i n g e v e r s t n p a s s e d i t . I h e w h o l e c o m j ^ a n y w e r e i n a n

a g o n y o f s o r r o w . H e r e a c t i n g i s s i m p l e , g r a n d , t e r r i b l e , a n d

p a t h e t i c . "

A s h a s b e e n ] ) o i n t e c l o u t b y J u l i u s L a n g e , · * G o e t h e d i n i n g

h i s f i r s t I t a l i a n j o u r n e y w a s m u c h c o n c e r n e d w i t h t h e

s t u d y o f t h e h u m a n f o r m i n a r t . N o t i n t h e s ] ) i r i t o f a n

h i s t o r i a n o r a n a r c h a e o l o g i s t b u t l i k e a s c i d } ) t o r h e s t u d i e d ,

a b o v e a l l , p r o p o r t i o n s a n d a n a t o m y ; h e w a s a s i f i n t o x i c a t e d

w i t h j o y b y j ) h y s i c a l b e a u t y . W a l p o l e ' s m a l i c i o u s c o m m e n t

o n t h e g e n e r a l e n t h u s i a s m a b o u t t h e e x ] ) r e s s i v e n e s s o f t h e a t ­

t i t u d e s , t h a t f e w ^ a n t i c j u e s t a t u e s h a d o r w e r e i n t e n d e d t o h a v e

a n y e x p r e s s i o n a t a l l , i l l u m i n a t e s a n e w l a c e t i n C i o e t h e ' s l e t ­

t e r s . I t i s , i n f a c t , t h e e x p r e s s i o n o f e m o t i o n r a t h e r t h a n p l a s t i c

b e a u t y w h i c h h a s i m j M e s s e c l h i m . I h e i m m e d i a t e s e n s u o u s

e n j o y m e n t o f f o r m i s b y n o m e a n s s o d o m i n a n t a s i t m i g h t

h a v e b e e n e x i ) e c t e d t o b e i n v i e w o f t h e i n t e n s i v e a r t s t u d i e s

h e h a d p u r s u e d . I t i s o b v i o u s t h a t w h a t m o s t f a s c i n a t e d

C i o e t h e w a s ] ) r e c i s e l y t h e e x ] ) e r i e n c e o f s e e i n g t h e e x } ) r e s s i o n

o f e m o t i o n s i n c o m b i n a t i o n w i t h a ] ) h y s i c a l r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f

c l a s s i c a l a r t — a p a r t f r o m t h e f a c t , o f c o u r s e , t h a t t h e f u t u r e

L a d y H a m i l t o n w a s a t t r a c t i \ e a s a w o m a n .

G o e t h e w a s l a t e r t o make a r t i s t i c u s e of h i s e x p e r i e n c e s i n

N a p l e s , ] ) a r t l y , a s w e h a v e s e e n , f o r h i s o w n j ) r a c t i c a l t h e a t r i c a l

a c t i v i t i e s , a n d p a r t l y a l s o i n l i t e r a r y f o r m i n t h e n o v e l Die

WaJiJvcrwdudiscJ ia j tcu . I n t h i s h e b r i n g s i n t h e a t t i t u d e s , n o t

o n l y t o r o u n d o f f h i s d e ] ) i c t i o n o f t h e c o n t e m j 3 o r a r y s c e n e

b u t a l s o b e c a u s e h e w a n t s t o c h a r a c t e r i z e L u c i a n e a s t h e t y p e

ο Γ b r i l l i i i n l h u l c m j ) l y p c r s o i i a l i l y w h i c h m u s t a t a n y c o s t

l e d i l s e i r t o h e t h e c e n l r e o f a t t r a c t i o n e v e n i l o t h e r s l i a \ e

t o s u H e r J " W h e n s h e g o e s t o \ i s i t ( ^ l a r l o t t e , L u c i a n e t a k e s a

l a r g e n u m b e r o l c l o t h e s w h i c h s h e u s e s f o r i a n c y c h e s s ; b u t

w e a r e t o l c l j ^ " W o / u s i e a b e r d i e s e \ ' e r k l e i c l u n g e n h a u p t s ä c h ­

l i c h b e n u t z t e , \ v a r e n pd i i lo fn i in i sd ic S l e l lungo i u n d Tänze , i n

d e n e n s i e X H ' Ï S Î h icdo ic Charak tere auszudrücken g e w a n d t w a r "

( m y i t a l i c s ) . . A p a r t i r o m t h i s L u c i a n e ' s p a n t o m i m i c " i m j ) r o v i s a -

t i o n s " d i l l e r I r o n i L a c l \ H a m i l t o n ' s i n h a \ i n g a m u s i c a l a c ­

c o m p a n i m e n t . 1 h e y ^ v o u l c l t h u s a } ) ] ) e a r n o t t o h a \ e b e e n

i n s p i i e c l s o l e l y b y t h e a u t h o r ' s \ i s i t t o X a | ) l e s a n d m a y h a v e

b e e n s u g g e s t e d i n ] ) a r t b \ t h e " d a n s e d u s c h a l l " ο ί M a c l a m e d e

S t a ë l ' s h e r o i n e l ) e l | ) h i n e ; t h e n o v e l h a d e n j o y e d a g r e a t s u c ­

c e s s i n C i e r m a n y ( o n t h e da f i se du scha l l s e e a l s o p a g e 1 4 0 ,

b e l o w ) .

A v a l i ! a l ) l e c o m p l e m e n t t o ( i o e t h e ' s r a t l i e r g e n e r a l d e s c r i p ­

t i o n o i a n d r e f l e c t i o n s o n L a d y H a m i l t o n ' s } ) e r f o r m a n c e s i s

t o b e f o u n d i n t h e m e m o i r s o f t h e Cojn tes se de Bo igne , w h o

h a d \ i s i t e d N a p l e s a s a y o u n g g i r l i n 1 7 9 2 . A t t h e e n d o f a

c c : ) u p l e o f p a g e s d e \ c ) t e d t o t h e s o c i e t y g o s s i p a l o o u t L a d y

H a m i l t o n s h e w r i t e s : ^ - " J e v e u x p a l l e r d e c e c | u ' o n a p p e l a i t

l e s a t t i tudes d e l a d y 1 l a m i l t o n . " 1 h e p h r a s i n g i n d i c a t e s t h a t

w h e n t h e m e m o i r s w e r e w r i t t e n ( 1 8 ^ ^ 5 - 3 7 i n t h e c a s e o f v o l . 1 )

t h e w o r d " a t t i t u d e " w o u l d n o l o n g e r b e a s s o c i a t e d l ) y t h e

r e a d e r w i t h t h i s p a r t i c u l a r a r t f o r m . A h n e , d e ß o i g n e t h e n c o n ­

t i n u e s w i t h h e r d e s c r i p t i c ^ n :

Pour sat isfaire au goût de son mari , c l ic ci ta i t habi tuel lement vêtue d 'une tuni( |uc blanche ceinte autour de la ta i l le , ses cheveux f lot­ta ient ou c ' ta ieut re le \c ' ' s par lui peigne, mais sans a\c) i r forme d 'une coiffure ( juelconi jue. Lorscju 'e l le consentai t à donner une reprc^senta-t ion, c l ic se munissai t de deux ou trois se hal ls de cac l icmirc , d 'une urne, d 'une cassolet te , d 'une lyre , d 'un tambour de bascjue. Avec ce léger bagage et dans son costume classicjue, e l le s 'é tabl issai t au nnl l icu d 'un salon. El le je ta i t s iu ' sa tc te un schal l c jui , t ra înant juscju 'à terre , la (ouxrai t ent ièrement; e t , a insi cachée, se clra})ai t des autres . Puis e l le le re levai t subi tement , ( juclcjucfois c l ic s 'en débarrassai t tout à fai t , d 'autres fois à moit ié enlevé, i l entrai t comme draperie dans le modele ( ju 'c l lc représentai t . Niais toujours cl ic montrai t la s ta tue la ]) lus admirablement composée.

[ 'a i entendu dire à des ar t is tes c |uc s i on avai t pu l ' imiter , l 'ar t n 'aurai t r ien t rouvé à y changer . Souvent e l le var ia i t son at t i tude et

8 - 6 6 3 2 0 6 Hohnström

rcxprcssioi i de sa pl iysionoinic . « Passant du grave au doux, du plaisant au sévère » avant de laisser re tomber le schal l , dont la chute f igurai t une espèce d 'entr 'ac te .

Je lui a i ( juelcjuelois servi d 'accessoire pour former un groupe. El le me jdacai t c lans la posi t ion c()nvena]) le , e t me drapai t avant d 'enlever le schal l c jui , nous en\eloppant , nous servai t de r ideau. Mes cheveux l ) londs contrastaient a \ec ses magm'f i i jues chevet ix noirs dont el le t i ra i t grand par t i .

Un jour e l le m'avai t placée à genoux devant une urne, les mains jointes c lans l 'a t t i tude de la [ ) r ière . Pencl iée sur moi , e l le semblai t a l ) îmée dans sa douleur , toutes deux nous ét ions éche\elées . Toiu à coup, se redressant e t s 'é loigna η t un peu, e l le me saisai t })ar les

cheveux d 'un mou\ement s i bruscjue, c jue je me retournai avec st ir-

prise et même ini j jeu d 'effroi , ce cpi i me f i t entrer dans l 'espr i t de mon rôle , car e l le l^randissai t un poignard. Les applaudissements passionnés des spectateurs ar t is tes se f i rent entendre avec exclamations de : Bravo la Mcdca! Puis m'at t i rant à e l le , me serrant sur son sein en ayant l 'a i r de me cl is})uter à la colère du ciel , e l le arracha aux mêmes voix le cr i de : ] i va la Xiohel

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t i o n t o a n o t h e r .

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t h e s p e c t a t o r s s a w ^ i n t h i s n e w a r t f o r m . S h e w r i t e s : " C ' e s t

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u t e s . " I h e d e s c r i p l i o n o f c o s t u m e a n d p r o p e r t i e s t a l l i e s w i t h

t h e e a r l i e r a c c o u n t s . M r s . M r e n c h g i \ e s a s o m e w h a t u n f l a t t e i -

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a l l h e r f e a t u r e s i s f i n e , a s i s t h e f o r m o f h e r h e a d , a n d p a r -

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