Consciousness, Literature and the Arts

Archive

Volume 1 Number 3, December 2000

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The crisis of  French Symbolist drama

 

By

 

Anwen Jones

  

In its most basic form, as Jean Moréas [1] pronounced in Le Figaro, September 18, 1886, French Symbolism was a protest against the mechanistic and materialistic worldview propounded by Naturalism: ‘Ennemie de l’enseignement, de la déclamation, de la fausse sensibilité, de la description objective’. [2] Convinced that the Naturalist focus on the external realities of life denied expression to an aspect of human experience that emanated from beyond the social, the habitual, the physical even, the symbolists established a contrasting focus on ‘l’expression de la vie intérieure’. [3] However, by substituting for the mechanistic forces of Naturalism bearing on man in the physical world, the unknown but equally oppressive forces that exist beyond his immediate apprehension, on the periphery of the human consciousness, the symbolists not only failed in their effort to free the human will, but laid themselves open to the charge of obscurity. As a result, even as Moréas launched the movement, Jules Lemaitre [4] declared with equal conviction, ‘Les Symbolistes, ça n’existe pas … ils ne savent pas eux-mêmes ce qu’ils sont et ce qu’ils veulent’. [5]

 

This damaging claim was eventually refuted by the development of the early symbolist manifesto into a much broader vision. From 1886 onwards, the movement gradually moved towards a vision of the fundamental integrity of human experience. Whereas the early preoccupation with establishing man’s ‘état d’âme’ [6] had been an end in itself, it gradually became a means of perceiving and appreciating the fundamental unity of the symbolist universe as; ‘un tout merveilleux dont chaque fragment suppose tous les autres’. [7]  The desire to celebrate this integrity became the Symbolist artist’s primary motivation until eventually the act of artistic creation emerged as a means of creating harmony in itself, enabling the human will to experience both freedom and integration;  ‘Par l’art seulement nous reprenons ce pouvoir naturel de créer notre vie: orgueil bienheureux, seule joie’ [8]. By 1891, the prominent French critic, Guy Michaud, proclaimed that the movement had attained its ‘heure privilégiée’ [9], but Emile Zola’s indignant demand, in the same year, ‘Où est-il le beau livre? [10] identified an embarassing juxtaposition between the movement’s aims and its achievements. Whilst the ultimate goal of symbolist art was to imitate and reproduce ‘l’esprit créateur’[11] at the core of human life and experience, the movement was, in fact, dogged by ‘le grief de stérilité’. [12]

 

It is no coincidence that this infertility was particularly evident in the field of French Symbolist drama. Whilst drama provided the ideal opportunity to represent ‘la synthèse de la vie par l’art’ [13]. the conflict between traditional dramatic action and the abstract, mystical themes dear to Symbolism replicated, on an artistic level, the polarisation that had held the human will hostage for so long. Camille Mauclair’s [14] response to this dilemma was to construct a definitive theory of Symbolist drama that prioritised the revelation of the vital experience hidden in the depths of the human soul at the expense of traditional dramatic action. Mauclair proposed that Symbolist drama should be ‘complètement affranchie de toute contingence temporelle, les idées seront incarnées en des personnages surhumains qui, par l’action, le mouvement, le geste vivront aussi peu que possible’. [15]

 

Maurice Maeterlinck’s early symbolist plays meet Mauclair’s criteria in full and were enthusiastically welcomed as the basis for a body of Symbolist drama, ‘Désormais, la preuve est faite: il y a un théâtre symboliste; deux drames sont à l’actif du groupe: Ancaeus, La Princesse Maleine. Il s’en présentera d’autres’. [16] Maeterlinck dramatises the subjugation of both the individual and the collective will to abstract forces such as fear and angst. In his drama, it is neither genetic heritage nor politico-economic forces that entrap man, but the spectres of his imagination and the intimations of his sensibility. Held hostage to their own desires and fears, Maeterlinck’s protagonists represent; ‘une humanité dominée, affolée par la crainte des forces inconnues, … une humanité, en quelque manière sonambulique’. [17] Maeterlinck’s main concern is the dramatisation of a state of mind and this is achieved, not by means of dramatic action, but via suggestion, nuance and atmosphere. In fact, he creates a drame statique in which action is replaced by situation: ‘En général, ‘le mouvement est lent, paresseux. Aucun incident n’est plus important que les autres’. [18] However, while both Mauclair’s theory and Maeterlinck’s practice facilitate the embodiment of ‘ces émotions, [...] ces apparitions de la conscience souterraine, […] ces rencontres des événements intérieurs’ [19], that captivated the Symbolist imagination, this success negates the idea of correlation and correspondance on which Symbolism was based. The opposition between the petrified passivity of Maeterlinck’s protagonists and the active nature of the dramatic form and declares the impossibility of constructing Symbolist drama that would manifest ‘[les] harmonies qui existent entre les différentes parties de [l’] univers’ [20]

It was this conflict that gave rise to the perception of Symbolist drama as ‘Ce théâtre neuf [qui] n’était pas destiné à la représentation’. [21] Despite the fact that some of Maeterlinck’s early plays did reach the stage, he was clearly at ease with this definition and did much to promote an image of himself as un ‘auteur injouable’. [22] His assertions that, ‘la représentation d’un chef-d’oeuvre […] à l’aide des éléments accidentels et humains est antinomique’and that ‘Tout chef-d’oeuvre est un symbole et le symbole ne supporte jamais la présence ctive de l’homme’ [23] constitute a deliberate attempt to de-activate drama in order to preserve and promote the mystical quality of the symbol. Stephane Mallarmé’s claim that theatre could not adequately portray ‘la tragédie de Vie’ [24] supports Maeterlinck’s argument that both dramatic action and theatrical representation were antagonistic towards a symbolist viewpoint. However, the question posed by Octave Mirbeau, in Le Figaro, 1890, regarding La Princesse Maleine - ‘Existe-t-il dans le monde vingt personnes qui la connaissent? [25] -  highlights the fact that the failure of French symbolist drama to establish its presence on the contemporary stage had inevitably exiled it from the popular imagination. Clearly, if French symbolist drama was to establish itself as a viable dramatic medium, it would have to move beyond this impasse. The publication of Paul Claudel’s first full-length symbolist play, Tête d’Or [26], marks the first step in this developmental journey.

 

In ‘La bombe Tête d’Or’ [27], Claudel re-asserts the ultimate freedom of the human will, negated initially by Naturalism and subsequently by the Symbolist vision propounded by both Mauclair and Maeterlinck. Henri de Régnier was one of the first to recognise the challenge the play issued to received ideas of Symbolist drama, telling the young Claudel, ‘Je crois que vous êtes appelé à amener de hautes perturbations dans le théâtre contemporain’. [28]  Tête d’Or’s subject matter – the presentation of the desperate struggle of adolescence at the moment at which self-awareness and physical energy combine to create an overwhelming desire for independence  - is similar enough to Maeterlinck’s focus on states of intense internal turmoil. However, Tête d’Or employs a dramatic methodology that is fundamentally different to that of  Maeterlinck. Whilst Maeterlinck’s protagonists exist in a state of suspended animation, Claudel’s hero, Tête d’Or, expends himself in furious action intended to establish free will as the sole factor capable of affecting the human condition. The mixture of enthusiasm and terror implicit in Maeterlinck’s response to the play highlights the disorientating effect of its dedication to the representation of action at all costs. Maeterlinck wrote to Claudel: 

 

Vous êtes entré dans ma maison comme une horrible tempête. J’ai parcouru bien des littératures, mais je ne me souviens pas d’avoir lu livre plus extraordinaire et plus déroutant que le vôtre… Je pense que presque tous vous prendront pour un fou, simplement. [29]

 

Tête d’Or clearly militates against the dominance of abstract forces on the Symbolist stage, but the alternative that Claudel offers proves to be equally exclusive. Whereas Maeterlinck’s dramatic universe shrouds itself in a mystical passivity, Claudel’s dramatic environment consumes itself in an excess of senseless action. The play ultimately loses faith in its own central proposition, ‘faire, ne serait-ce pas surexister?’ [30] and action is exposed as meaningless precisely because it is not a means of articulating some kind of inner truth. 

In order to embody Tête d’Or ’s central proposition  - ‘dans la privation du bonheur, le désir seul subsiste’ [31] -  Claudel sets out to invalidate the conventional systems designed to make sense of human life and experience. This process of deconstruction effectively highlights the sense of existential anguish that pervades the play. However, it also poses a fundamental problem of form, because it undermines the value of the communicative structures upon which drama itself is traditionally based. The action opens with a sombre burial scene in which Claudel’s hero, Simon Agnel (later to transform himself into the imposing figure of Tête d’Or) enlists the help of a young acquaintance to bury his partner, who, ‘détournant de [lui] les yeux étrangement’ (OC, VI, 242) has ended their relationship by means of her death. Simon Agnel’s mistrust for ‘cet être qui a un visage d’enfant’ (OC, VI, 243) coupled with his rather callous burial of his female partner, ‘va là, entre, entre dans la terre crue […] la bouche contre le sol’ (OC, VI, 240) is indicative of the failure of interpersonal relationships to provide the satisfaction for which both he and Cébès crave. The most extreme example of this phenomenon is the princess’ approbation of Tête d’Or’s murder of her father; ‘O Tête d’Or! Je suis content que tu aies tué mon père!’(OC, VI, 380) Her words are curious when contrasted with her earlier anguished fury at the sight of her murdered father, ‘jeté comme une chose vile, comme un os qu’on lance aux chiens!’(OC, VI, 333) Her actions are, in fact, motivated by Claudel’s attempt to negate conventional social structures but Mercier-Campiche’s indignant claim that this ‘accident invraisemblable’ [32] fatally compromises her dignity, reveals the weakness of Claudel’s dramatic methodology. 

 

The closure of Simon’s relationship with his female partner marks a new phase in his life during which he establishes a close alliance with his newly-discovered friend, Cébès. Claudel described Cébès as a figure of ‘faiblesse pitoyable’, [33] at a loss to interpret his own relationship with the forces he perceives at large in the world around him. His incapacity for action, contrasted by his desperate aspiration to emerge from ‘la profondeur où je suis’, (OC, VI, 251) makes him both Tête d’Or’s opposite and his mirror image. It is he who articulates the play’s central vision of the ultimate dominance of ‘un immense besoin de bonheur’ [34] that can neither be fully defined nor satisfied:

 

CÉBÈS. – Me voici,

Imbécile, ignorant,

Homme nouveau devant les choses inconnues, […]

Je ne sais rien et je ne peux rien. Que dire? Que faire!

A quoi emploierai-je ces mains qui pendent, ces pieds

Qui m’emmènent comme le songe nocturne? […]

Voyez moi! j’ai besoin,

Et je ne sais pas de quoi …  (OC, VI, 235-6)

 

Simon Agnel’s response to this crisis is to declare ‘la triomphe de la volonté individuelle, sauvage, furieuse, enivrée du désir de la toute-puissance’. [35] He dedicates himself to ‘l’heure présente’ and embarks on a crusade of violent action; ‘Aujourd’hui est venu que je dois montrer qui je suis! […] ou je mourrai, ou je m’établirai mon propre empire!’ (OC, VI, 304) In order to conquer ‘l’ennui qui ne commence pas, mais qui, comme l’objet d’un long regard, reste fixe’, (OC, VI, 245) he mythologises himself as a figure of ruthless agression and energy whose one aim is to inspire others to action and establish his own ultimate authority:

 

          Si quelqu’un osait lui parler le premier, disant: ‘Qui êtes- vous?’

Il le regardait aussi et répondait : Ce qu’il te semble, tu ne te trompes pas.’   

‘O!’ disait-on. ‘O!’ disait-on! ‘la guerre!’ […] ‘Que puis-je faire?’- ‘Combattre’, répondait-il, ‘résister.’

‘Et vaincre aussi, n’est ce pas?’ – ‘Tu le peux’, répondait-il, et il le regardait fixement. […]

Jusqu’à ce qu’un mot faible, plein d’un sens fort,

Apparût à l’intelligence : ‘Je peux!’ (OC, VI, 284)

 

Nevertheless, Cébès, who is, after all, ‘la face complémentaire de Tête d’Or’ [36] senses that the world over which Tête d’Or has control is lacking in substance. At the moment of his death, Cébès longs for confirmation that there is something other than ‘la forme du corps’ (OC, VI, 294) and that death does not ultimately extinguish all life. He seeks to make of his hero a figure of comfort and a source of enlightenment, appealing to him; ‘O frère! J’ai mis ma confiance en toi, ne me-secoueras-tu pas?/ Je te supplie, soldat, Chef d’Or, ô mon frère à la chevelure éclatante!’ (OC, VI, 293) Tête d’Or, however, refuses to undertake the symbolic function with which Cébès endows him and turns away from his friend, declaring:

 

Tu parles de désir, la faim de l’heure présente me tire!

Le désir rapace m’entraîne en avant par ce lieu d’horreur!

Et il demande, et je ne puis répondre à cet enfant, malheureux! et voici qu'il meurt. (OC, VI, 294)

 

However, in the final analysis, he fails to find satisfaction in action and surrenders the crown he fought so hard to obtain to the princess in a final admission that his life of action has been little more than ‘sound and fury, signifying nothing’.

 

Tête d’Or’s determination to arrive at an intensity of experience by means of action is offset by the symbolic figure of  ‘la princesse’.  Initially, the princess is presented in terms of her social role as next of kin to the old king, who crouches in fear of an encroaching enemy, amidst ‘le malheur et le déshonneur [qui] submerge tout’. (OC, VI, 257) Later, she withdraws from the company of her father and the group of ‘veilleurs’ who wait in the shadows of the palace and on her return, it becomes clear that she has undergone a transformation. She re-appears clad in scarlet and golden robes and her mitre and deliberate, commanding gestures ‘la font passer de […] l’état de femme à celui de symbole’. [37] It is interesting to note that her actions, by contrast to those of Tête d’Or, are deliberately de-energised so as to assume an abstract quality within a non-specific temporal context. In her new role, the princess addresses her father’s subjects authoratively, urging them to admit to their familiarity with her:

 

LA PRINCESSE, […] C’est moi. Que me-voulez-vous? Vous songiez à moi, dites-vous? Eh bien, me voici. (OC, VI, 272)

[…] Je me tiens sur les marchés et à la sortie des bals, disant:

‘Qui veut changer des mains pleines de mûrons contre des mains pleines d’or, et se peser,

Du poids de chair de son coeur l’amour perdurable? (OC, VI, 276)

 

The emphasis Claudel places on the process of awakening that she plays out: ‘La Princesse fait comme si elle se réveillait, avec des gestes extrêmement lents et les yeux toujours fermés’ (OC, VI, 271) suggests that she may be in possession of a privileged insight into life, akin to that obtained by Tête d’Or himself subsequent to his meditation under the tree of science earlier in the play. However, whilst ‘le surhomme Tête d’Or’ [38] clearly administered a call to arms, the nature of the princess’ mission is less specific.

 

Claudel’s decision to ‘opposer au champion de la force et de la volonté de puissance un personnage qui agit selon l’ordre de l’esprit’[39] indicates his awareness that a dramatic universe that can only accommodate the material and the concrete cannot provide an accurate reflection of human life and experience. Yet his failure to externalise the symbolic significance of his princess by means of dramatic action means that, despite all efforts to the contrary, he too, like Maeterlinck, is least dramatic when he is most symbolic. Gabriel Marcel admits that he is entirely at a loss to interpret the significance of the princess’ first appearance, ‘masquée en robes d’apparat’ [40] and this confusion continues to surround her subsequent contributions to the play. When Tête d’Or returns victorious from battle, he issues a ferocious challenge to the old king:

 

          TETE D’OR: -Père de famille, je ne te respecterai pas.

Car je suis comme le fils de famille qu’on a jeté dehors et dont l’intendant a pris la place et le fils de la servante.

[…] (OC, VI, 319)

 

The young hero spurns the old man’s attempts at self-assertion and murders him, before casting the princess aside in a shameless proclamation of the ultimate supremacy of the human will over the natural laws of ascendancy and indeed, all other laws:

 

Ton droit, je ne sais ce que c’est.

[…] Et pour ce qui est de mon droit, écoutez tous! Cette victoire, je ne l’ai point gagnée, mais comme un mendiant et un inconnu,

J’entre ici et je réclame le Livre et la Couronne! (OC, VI, 319)

 

The princess leaves the palace and wanders abroad until she is attacked by an army deserter, who mockes her innate regality and nails her hands to a tree. It is in this condition, later in the play, that the dying Tête d’Or finds her:

 

-O

Dieu!-

O mains! Ô,ô bras! Je suis fixée ici par les mains!

Et, brisée, je tombais en rêve, malheureuse! (OC, VI, 375)

 

Her crucified figure recalls images of Christ and when she is finally crowned queen on Tête d’Or’s death, the bleeding hands with which she grasps the golden sceptre present both her previous suffering and her present authority within a non-materialistic context. Though it could be said that the princess’ charm is aptly expressed by Octave Mirbeau’s description of her as ‘une fleur de soleil’ [41], the exact nature of her significance remains unclear throughout the play. Claudel tried to clarify the confusion aroused by her mystical presence by explaining ‘La Princesse […] représente toutes les idées de douceur et suavité: l’âme, la femme, la Sagesse, la Pitié’. [42] However, Maeterlinck cast some doubt on the authenticity of this claim when he warned Albert Mockel:

 

Il y a d’admirables choses parmi celles que vous dit Claudel, bien qu’elles me semblent trop détaillées pour qu’une partie de ces intentions n’aient pas eu lieu après coup!’ [43]

 

In later years, Claudel himself referred to Tête d’Or as ‘charabia incompréhensible’. [44] The necessity of accounting for its ‘sincérité crue, maladroite, horriblement naïve’ [45] led him to discuss the play in terms of his youthful struggle to reconcile his discovery of Christ’s love for mankind with the scientific rationalism of contemporary society. In 1886, the date of his religious conversion, he was entirely at ease with ‘l’hypothèse moniste et mécaniste’ [46] and was in no doubt that ‘ce monde était un enchaînement dur d’effets et de causes que la science allait arriver après-demain à débrouiller parfaitement’. [47] As a result, he reacted violently to his conversion, dedicating himself to doing, ‘tout ce qu’il m’était possible pour résister’.[48]  It was not until four years later, in 1890, that he discovered in the sacrament of Holy Communion a means of assimilating his non-rational comprehension of the world with his awareness of its physical reality.

 

Claudel’s claim that Tête d’Or dramatises this ‘époque tragique de ma vie’[49]  is fascinating because it suggests that, it was, in fact, the resolution of this personal crisis that enabled him to move beyond Tête d’Or towards the achievement of L’Annonce faite à Marie. [50] After writing Tête d’Or, Claudel declared, ‘C’était la dernière expérience que je voulais faire, c’est l’homme qui explore le monde avec le feu et l’épée, pour voir si vraiment ce grand monde, contient quelque chose qui le satisfasse […] Quand j’eus fini ce livre, je me sentis vaincu […] la grande crise de ma vie était terminée’. [51] The resolution of the crisis embodied in Tête d’Or, then, was the turning point that allowed Claudel to begin the process that defined him as one of  the movement’s ‘premiers disciples […] qui élargiront le mouvement dans des sens bien différents’. [52]

 

There can be little doubt that once Claudel had reconciled himself with his religious vision, it became the driving force behind his creative work. He was convinced that his conversion had given him a specific artistic mission as a ‘conducteurs d’âmes’ [53] who could employ his creative skills as a means of illuminating others. He described himself as one of a chosen handful of Christian writers ]and spoke with passion of the alliance between literature and religion:

 

LA [sic] vérité vous délivrera, dit l’Évangile. En présence de cette vérité révélée dont l’Église catholique est la dépositaire, il s’agit pour ... la littérature non pas d’un concordat à négocier entre deux domaines aux frontières jalousement définies et surveillées, mais d’une épousaille, …comme d’une femme qui demande à l’époux qu’elle a choisi à la fois la libération dans le baiser et la sécurité dans la Foi. [54]

 

 I wish to take the claim of a marriage between literature and religion even further, by proposing that Claudel’s religious vision of man’s empowered position at the centre of a harmonious Christian universe was directly responsible for his realisation that it was possible to use the audience as a means of re-aligning the relationship between autonomous and immediate dramatic form and Symbolism.

 

If Tête d’Or marked the onset of this developmental process, it reached its culmination with the publication of the third version of L’Annonce faite à Marie. In L’Annonce faite à Marie, Claudel aspires to and ultimately achieves, an instant at which the incongruities of both human life and those of its aesthetic counterpart – drama, are reconciled by an experience of enlightenment on the part of the audience. The play exemplifies his conviction that religious faith released man from a state of paralysis brought on by his inability to assimilate the diversity of his own experience into a meaningful whole. By mediating this spiritual vision via a framework of symbolic, ritualistic gestures, Claudel encourages the audience to partake in the moment at which the fragmentary and contradictory nature of human Art and experience is transformed by the creative power of faith. In so doing, he realises one of the most exciting claims made for symbolism, initially by Villiers de l’Isle Adam and subsequently by Stéphane Mallarmé, that it was, in essence, a medium that could afford its readers ‘cette joie délicieuse de croire qu’ils créent’. [55]

 

Ironically, the artistic journey that culminated in this moment of dramatic revelation was a lengthy and painstaking process. Claudel wrote the first version of L’Annonce faite à Marie, in 1892 under the title, La Jeune Fille Violaine. [56] In this initial version, Claudel takes his first tentative steps towards the formulation of a network of symbolic gestures that might afford the play a suitably expansive context, within which to introduce the workings of a spiritual force. The play is full of ‘impressions mélancoliques et d’images très douces’ [57], but the significance of these symbolic gestures is obscured because they are defined by contrast with the naturalistic environment within which the play’s main action is presented. In fact, Claudel’s decision to name both his heroine and his play after one of the ‘cent villages aux beaux noms, Saponay, Cramaille … Violaine’ [58] that graced his native Tardenois, anticipates the ultimate dominance of naturalistic forces within the world of the play.

 

The exposition of the play’s opening situation – the departure of Anne, Combernon’s old master, having passed his practical duties on to a younger successor who is to marry his eldest daughter, Violaine, and secure the family’s time-honoured farming tradition - is achieved by means of dialogue between Anne, the heroine’s father, and her mother. It quickly becomes evident that Anne is using speech as a means of mythologising his past and his wife’s role in that past, rather than communicating with her directly in the present:

 

ANNE VERCORS.- O femme, eh bien?

Il y a trente ans, il y a un mois

D’années! et sept ans tu m’es demeurée vaine, comme un arbre qui n’a que de l’ombre.

Voici que nous nous sommes

Considérés dans la moitié de notre vie,

Élisabeth! et j’ai vu les premières rides sur ton front.

[…] Et voici que tu sens de la vie dans ton côté et voici l’enfant et l’honnêteté

De ce doux narcisse, Violaine.

Et puis la seconde nous naît. Bibiane, notre noire, une fille et ce n’est pas un garçon. (OC, VII, 234)

 

His wife listens to him but rather than struggle to fathom the hidden motivation behind his desire to escape or alter the material conditions of his life, she attempts to anchor him in the mundane detail of everyday existence:

 

LA MERE. – Tu sais bien qu’on ne peut rien te dire.

Mais tu n’es jamais là, mais il faut que je t’attrape pour te remettre un bouton. (OC, VII, 234)

 

He is driven further into monologic isolation by his failure to articulate the spiritual needs that might explain his thirst for, ‘le lieu grand’, ‘le bruit des eaux’, ‘l’énormité de la mer’. (OC, VII, 254) Ironically, this communicative difficulty is not confined to the internal communication system defining the relationships between the play’s fictional characters, but spills over into the external communication system established between author and audience. The fact that Anne’s motivation is as much a mystery to the audience as it is to his wife suggests that the dramatist is at the mercy of the same communication difficulties as his fictional characters.

 

In an attempt to reflect the totality of the dramatic contexture that he hopes to construct, Claudel attempts to establish the symbolic significance of linguistic form. When Violaine turns down her fiancé’s marriage proposal, Claudel emphasises the formal delivery of her rejection in an attempt to externalise the ‘special’ nature of her motivation by means of the style of her verbal expression:

         

JACQUIN URI: - Violaine, qu’est- ce que tu dis? Je ne comprends pas! est-ce que tu ne veux pas m’épouser?

          VIOLIANE.-     C’est cela, - non, je ne vous épouserai pas.

                                                                   Silence

JACQUIN URI:- Voudriez-vous me répéter ce que vous avez dit?                     

VIOLIANE.-     Non, je ne vous épouserai pas. (OC, VII, 261)   

 

However, since no referential framework is provided for the interpretation of verbal form as a dramatic gesture, the audience can only conclude that Violaine’s behaviour is a rather defeatist response to the machinations of her younger sister, Bibiane; ‘notre noire’. (OC, VII, 234) Bibiane is a ferocious young woman who has no spiritual aspirations but demands control of the material world inhabited by the Combernon clan. She de-constructs the carefully planned future that had been sketched out by Anne, her father, by engineering both Violaine’s rejection of Jacquin and her relinquishing of her rightful inheritance at Combernon.

 

          Having surrendered control of the dramatic universe to Bibiane, Claudel is aware that the play’s success depends on his ability to employ Violaine as a means of establishing the possibility of an alternative, spiritual mode of existence. In an attempt to establish the spiritual nature of her being, he gives her a narrative role, distinct from the main dramatic action – the business of everyday life at Combernon. Anne introduces his daughter’s story-telling role but in so doing, he defines her as an object for observation, rather than an active participant in the play’s present: 

 

ANNE VERCORS.- Écoute comme elle leur fait des contes ; je ne sais pas où elle va les chercher. (OC, VII, 248)

 

The story that Violaine relates is thematically linked to the play’s religious message and its resemblance to religious allegory suggests that it is representative of Claudel’s authorial perspective. However, whilst it introduces the concept of religion to the audience on an ideological level, its primary effect is to highlight the distance between the active, concrete medium of drama and the play’s internal, ethereal thematic.

 

If the play is ever to develop beyond, ‘un mystère, une parabole’ [59], Claudel must eventually provide a dramatic context in which his heroine’s spirituality is afforded concrete dramatic representation. At the begininng of the third Act, he introduces a dramatic interlude, designed as a point of reference for the interpretation of the spiritual nature of Violaine’s motivation. The success of this technique is dependant on Claudel’s ability to link this interlude with the dramatic environment inhabited by the play’s primary characters whilst also distinguishing it from that environment by virtue of its spiritual quality. The interlude involves, ‘une famille de mendiants: … un idiot de vingt ans, puis le père, le grand-père…et quelques enfants déguenillés portant des sacs’. In order to establish the distinctive nature of this group, Claudel locates them within a new temporal and spatial setting, ‘Le pays de Chevoche. Soir de décembre’ (OC, VII, 270) and distinguishes their speech by the use of dialect. He then establishes an implicit parallel between the interaction of these beggars and their idiot leader and the relations between Bibiane and Violaine:  

 

LE VIEUX.- Je suis g’lé jusqu’au trognon. Vous me laissez geler, salopes!

Il leur tape sur la tête.

            Je suis blet comme une nèfle! Mettez-moi un sac sur le dos.

QUATORZE.- T’en as déjà un, vieux!

LE VIEUX.- Mets-moi un sac!

PIEFIN, à l’Idiot..- Donne-lui ton sac! T’en as pas besoin. (OC, VII, 271)

 

At times, the comparison is made more explicit by the fact that their conversation provides a direct dialogic commentary on Violaine’s character. This commentary is contextualised within the play’s main actional framework by virtue of its dual expressive and appellative functions:

 

PIEFIN.- Crée vie de misère ! cré pays !

[…] C’est à Combernon qu’i faisait bon demander, dans le temps.

Pas maintenant, ah non! mais du temps de mam’zelle Violaine! Crée vie de rien du tout!

On dit qu’elle est partie. C’est l’année que mon frère est mort dans la croûte ed Givray. On dit qu’alle à décédé.

Pas vrai, Pipi? On dit de drôles ed’choses. (OC, VII, 272)

 

Thus, the audience is provided with an indication of Violaine’s generosity that hints at her spirituality, alongside information regarding her fate since her expulsion from Comernon. However, the fact that dramatic figures operate on the periphery of the dramatic fiction fundamentally undermines their influence, restricting this episode to the status of an enigma.

 

          Claudel follows this secondary action with the presentation of a miracle – the restoration of sight to Bibiane’s small child by Violaine – that links the play’s two opposing themes, by providing concrete testimony of God’s presence in a world that had seemed exclusively materialistic hitherto. Claudel’s use of varied dramatic gestures, such as silences, and physical movement and actions in the dramatisation of the miracle gives it suitable authority and immediacy, stimulating the audience to an active, inerpretative role. In a silent scene, Violaine responds to her sister’s relentless demands by kissing her little nephew’s eyes, holding her hands over his eyelids and turning him towards the open air, having instructed Bibiane to open the curtain at the entrance to her hovel. Despite the positive effect of these gestures on the audience’s perception of Violaine and the healing itself, the peripheral place afforded to the miracle in the overall structure of the Act considerably weakens its effect.

 

          The existence of a fourth Act that is largely dedicated to the reworking of the play’s central action – the miracle itself - suggests that Claudel is aware of his failure to activate a spiritual force within the world of the play. In Act IV, he constructs a series of gestures that is thematically linked to the main body of dramatic action by virtue of its affinity with the miracle itself, but it is also significant on the level of form as a result of its ability to bring about a change in the central dramatic situation. As part of this process, he re-introduces Baube and Lidine - a married couple who are friends of Violaine to the action. Lidine confides in Violaine that she is pregnant:

 

                             Elle lui parle à voix basse.

LIDINE.- Je porte un enfant dans mon ventre.

 

Violaine then turns to Baube and performs a ritualistic re-pledging of the husband and wife’s troth:  

 

VIOLAINE.- à Lidine.-Voici ton mari. (À Baube) Et toi,

Voici ta femme aux cheveux dénoués, grosse de son fruit.

Ne la méprise point.

Et moi, je suis entre vous. (OC, VII, 301-302)

 

Whilst Violaine’s pledge does not constitute an explicitly religious gesture, it does evoke the ritual of marriage – a ceremony traditionally recognised as a combination of civil and religious elements that transcends the physical limitations of the here and now. The reference to the child’s conception flags up another point in human experience when material limitations are exceeded by the workings of a miraculous life force. Lidine’s revelation brings about a reconciliation between Jacquin Uri and the heroine – a phenomenon that achieves physical presence by means of another symbolic gesture – the union of two long estranged hands, those of Jacquin and the heroine herself. This positive change is counteracted by the presence of a good deal of rather obtuse and obtrusive narrative but the play closes on a triumphant note with the triple blessing of the Angelus: 

 

                             L’Angelus sonne. Premier coup.

LIDINE.-L’ange de Dieu nous avertit de la paix, et l’enfant tresaille dans mon sein.

                             Deuxième coup.

BAUBE.- L’homme sort le matin, et il rentre le soir; et la terre s’étend autour de ses portes.

                             Troisième coup.

JACQUIN URI.- Chante, la trompette! et le monde se dissipera comme de la cendre.

                             Profonde silence. Puis volée de la cloche. (OC, VII, 322)

 

This final symbolic gesture contextualises the timeless, non-specific symbols of life, birth and death within the particular dramatic environment established by the play. Nevertheless, it cannot fully compensate for the polarization of symbolic images and narrative elements that disturbs the play’s overall equilibrium.

 

          Claudel’s dissatisfaction with this first version of La Jeune Fille Violaine is highlighted by the fact that he did not publish it until 1924, thirty-two years after its initial appearance. At the turn of the twentieth century, he described it as ‘une pièce purement villageoise’ [60] and by 1901, he had written a second version in which he deliberately developed ‘la partie philosophique et mystique’. [61] Claudel opens this second version/[62] with the introduction of a new character, Pierre de Craon. Pierre is an effective dramatic device because his dual status as a stonemason, ‘qui construis ce grand pont sur la rivière là-bas’ (OC, VII, 329) and as Violaine’s spiritual guide, who has ‘trouvé […] de crédit à l’oreille de [son] âme’, gives equal status to the action in the present and the spiritual action the play conjures up. (OC, VII, 331) Having established this duality, Claudel clears the dramatic space of the materialistic clutter, characteristic of the first version. Pierre meets Violaine at Combernon but it is now night: ‘la pièce est complètement obscure. Un temps indéterminé s’écoule. – Profonde silence.’ (OC, VII, 327) The neutrality of the dramatic situation, both in temporal and spatial terms, facilitates Pierre’s efforts to bring Violaine to a keener awareness of the spiritual forces in her life. His description of mortal love as ‘semblable à l’humiliation de la mort, à la résolution de la dernière heure’ echoes Simon Agnel’s dissatisfaction with his experience of emotional interaction. (OC, VII, 337) However, whereas Simon could only envisage discovering an alternative satisfaction by expending himself in action, Pierre locates action itself, ‘l’acte même par lequel je suis’ within a spiritual context. For him, the intensity of human desire, ‘comporte pour qu’elle existe la source; l’Insatiable ne peut s’appliquer que sur l’Inépuisable’. (OC, VII, 337) Claudel provides concrete evidence for Pierre’s claims by constructing dramatic action that has both a symbolic, atemporal significance and a specific significance within the context of the play’s immediate dramatic environment. When Pierre bids farewell to Violaine:

 

Tous deux se regardent en silence. Le visage de Violaine exprime la douleur, la prudence, le trouble, une curiosité solenelle; celui de Pierre, la gravité et la compassion. Violaine enfin lui tend la main, qu’il prend, et, comme elle se penche vers lui, il la baise sur la joue, lui prenant de l’autre main la tête. (OC, VII, 339)

 

Despite the fact that Bibiane, who is a silent witness to the closing moments of the scene, unbeknown to both Pierre and Violaine, interprets this act as an indication of physical attraction, it is clear to the audience that is in fact a means of externalising their shared awareness of the influence of a spiritual force on their lives.  

         

Disappointingly, the remainder of Act 1 follows the format established in the play’s first version, but as the Act draws to a close, Claudel indicates his awareness of the advantages of constructing the main body of his dramatic action according to the pattern set up in the prologue. Rather than executing his final, familial duty by the sharing of strawberries amongst family and servants, Anne Vercors now performs a symbolic gesture that succesfully bridges between the here and now of the play’s present and the eternity of a Christian universe; ‘Il prend le pain et en distribue les morceaux à toutes les personnes présentes. Toutes mangent ensemble’. (OC, VII, 355) The miracle of Act III provides an ideal opportunity for Claudel to continue this kind of symbolic action by exploiting both the atemporal significance of the motif of sight and the immediate excitement and energy generated by the miracle itself. Nevertheless, he passes up this opportunity and reverts to the reductive pattern established in the play’s first version where the miracle is marginalized by several pages of rather confusing commentary. When it finally occurs, the miracle has a depressing quality that is exposed by Violaine’s own comment on it:

 

VIOLAINE.- à mi-voix,- […] C’est comme quand on revient de l’enterrement et qu’il pleut à verse,

Et que les chouquettes volent autour du clocher en criant ‘des noix! des noix!’ (OC, VII, 392)

 

Claudel attempts to rescue the play by returning Pierre de Craon to the final Act. It is he who brings a dying Violaine back to Combernon and whilst his return links the new, introductory action to the play’s main action, it is not sufficient to define Violaine’s actions in the light of  ‘cette donation simple, totale, naïve, d’une vierge à son Seigneur bien-aimé’. [63]

 

          1911 marked the appearance of the third version of La Jeune Fille Violaine under the new title, L’Annonce faite à Marie. [64]  Whilst Claudel insisted that the play’s central religious theme had remained largely unchanged since its original conception in 1892, by 1911, he had reworked ‘le sujet historique hors de l’histoire qu’était La Jeune Fille Violaine pour en faire le drame situé et daté de L’Annonce faite à Marie’. [65] Auguste Anglès described this provision of a historically specific context for the play as ‘un “passage” du drame symboliste au drame historique’.[66] I wish to propose that it was not so much a move away from symbolism as an effort to piece together a new ideological context within which the interaction between symbolism and traditional dramatic action could be re-evaluated and ultimately, re-validated. Events at Combernon were now presented within the context of a nationwide politico-religious crisis in a medieval France deprived of the rightful leadership of both King and Pope. Against this background, a framework of ritualistic action gradually emerged; action that had direct significance in the play’s present but also had connections with and connotations of a spiritual world, free from the restrictions of time and place. It was this action that triggered the active participation of the audience, ensuring that their aesthetic experience corroborated the fundamental integrity of the Symbolist universe.

 

Claudel makes some significant structural changes to the play that transform the second version’s collection of  ‘petites scènes et [...] tréteaux plus ou moins chancelants’ [67] into coherent dramatic action that mediates between conventionally opposed aspects of human perception and experience. The relationship between the new unit of action involving Pierre de Craon and the remainder of the dramatic action is made explicit by its designation as a prologue. The utilitarian nature of life at Combernon is now presented as a means of sustaining a spiritual centre  - the sacred convent of Monsanvierge - and the prologue is structured around a series of symbolic, religious moments, such as the sounding of the Angelus commemorating, ‘comme toute la création est avec Dieu dans un mystère profond’. Pierre, who is now a leper, complains of the hardship of  ‘porter avec soi la plaie infâme et de savoir que l’on ne guérira pas et que rien n’y fait’. (OC, IX, 23) Nevertheless, he surrenders to his illness because he understand it to be the physical embodiment of the fallibility that drove him to sin against Violaine by attempting to rape her; ‘son propre poison’. (OC, IX, 23)  Each act undertaken by Violaine: the opening of an old door in order to facilitate Pierre’s departure to Rheims, where he is to build a church resplendent with light, her gifting of her engagement ring as a donation to Pierre’s religious cause and her final kiss, assumes both a symbolic and an actual significance in relation to the nature of her own immediate future and the future presence of spiritual forces in the play’s dramatic universe. The audience’s de-coding of the layers of meaning, both immediate and infinite, encapsulated by these symbolic gestures, echoes the manner in which spiritual faith reveals the fundamental integrity of human life and experience.

 

The main body of the dramatic action explores and develops the thematic criterion put forward in the prologue. Despite a handful of minor changes designed to permeate the dramatic environment with a spiritual quality, Act I follows the familiar format established in the earlier versions of La Jeune Fille Violaine. However, Act II is transformed by the pervasive presence of Monsanvierge. Violaine now appears before Jacques dressed in, ‘le costume des moniales de Monsanvierge [...] que les femmes de Combernon ont le droit de revêtir deux fois:/Premièrement le jour de leur fiançailles, /Secondement de leur mort’. (OC, IX, 53) The motif of leprosy, established in the prologue as a signal of man’s unworthiness before God, is re-introduced within the context of Violaine’s refusal to allow Jacques to take ‘pour toi ce qui est à Dieu seul’. (OC, IX, 59) Faced by Jacques’ refusal to release her from her pledge, she reveals to him, ‘cet ineffable secret’, (OC, IX, 60)  à la place qui est sur le coeur [...] elle lui montre sa chair où la première tache de lèpre apparâit’. (OC, IX, 61)  Jacques interprets Violaine’s leprosy as an external indication of a state of sin, but this symbol has already acquired a complexity of meaning within the context of the play as a whole that prevents the audience from drawing the same conclusion. 

 

The miracle of Act III is now an act of resurrection that occurs on Christmas Day amidst celebrations marking the return of both King and Pope, alongside Jeanne d’Arc to a jubilant France. The phenomenon of Christian resurrection provides convincing evidence of God’s alliance with man, realising an emphatic presence for the Spirit in the play. In the context of this miracle, Mara’s role is re-evaluated and re-validated. An early indication of this development is the change of name from ‘Bibiane’ to ‘Mara’; a change that defines the character in terms of her relationship with God. The bond between Mara and her God is indeed a bitter one, akin to that of the biblical Mara, who forsook the name ‘Naomi’ in favour of  ‘Mara’ because it better reflected the harshness of God’s dealings with her.  Claudel’s Mara no longer inhabits an exclusively materialistic world but is instinctively aware of her own spiritual shortcomings. In fact, her shameless belief in her right to demand the ultimate from both her sister and her God is as creative an element in the construction of the miracle as Violaine’s preparedness to sacrifice her own needs for the good of others. Mara delivers a small corpse to her sister, imploring, ‘je crie vers toi de la profondeur où je suis! Violaine! Violaine!/Rends-moi cet enfant que je t’ai donné! Eh bien! je cède, je m’humilie! aie pitié de moi’. (OC, IX, 87) In response to her sister’s inexorable demands, Violaine provides ‘l’ingrédient du miracle: le sacrifice’.[68] To the sound of Mara’s reading from the Christmas gospel and trumpets announcing the return of King and Pope, she provides the ultimate testimony of  ‘l’espèce d’exaltation , d’enivrement que la foi donne aux forces les plus naturelles de l’homme’. [69] The child is resurrected and the Act culminates in a triumphant declaration by Violaine that associates this miracle with the birth of Christ himself; ‘Voici que je vous annonce une grande joie […] Parce qu’un homme est apparu dans le monde!’ (OC, IX, 94)

 

The balance of Act IV is restored by an abridgement of the lengthy narrative between Pierre and Anne, - a commentary no longer necessary since the dramatic action has clearly externalised the play’s main theme - a celebration of the moment of revelation at which the fragmentary and contradictory nature of human experience is transformed by spiritual faith. Violaine’s death activates a definitive change in the dramatic environment that she leaves behind encapsulated in the captivating of the Angelus, first heard at the moment of her sacramental communion with Pierre, ‘l’ambassadeur de Dieu’.[70] The tolling bell celebrates the ressurection of Monsanvierge and the significance of the play’s central action:

 

ANNE VERCORS.- Dieu s’est fait homme!

JACQUES HURY.- Il est mort!

PIERRE DE CRAON.- Il est ressuscité! (OC, IX, 129)

 

At the very last moment, this symbol surrenders its commemorative status for a more active status. It is no longer ‘le coup de l’Angélus’, but rather ‘la sonnerie de la communion!’; (OC, IX, 129) the very sacrament that enabled Claudel, almost a quarter of a century earlier, to arrive at the ‘moment of contact […] between the within […] and the […] beyond, beyond because we know it as exceeding the soul’s capacity, and apprehend it immediately as infinite’. [71]

 

Between 1892 and 1911, Claudel had moved from the position of one who believed that drama was simply a device, ‘destiné[s] à l'épuisement de la conversation intérieure’ to that of one who believed it might activate, ‘un contact personnel, une large et intime communion’ capable of accomplishing ‘la transformation d’une âme’. [72] Whilst this was not the end of the play’s developmental journey, Claudel had manipulated the literary devices available to him as far as was possible. Between 1912 and 1948, he would develop the play further with the help of external inspiration and direction. [73] However, by 1911, in offering the audience an active role in the interpretation and assimilation of a series of ritualistic gestures, Claudel had not only enabled L’Annonce faite à Marie to embody a powerful ‘evocation of the absolute’ [74], but had provided a dramatic testimony to the claim that symbolism was indeed a medium capable of activating ‘la tendance actuelle de l’esprit créateur en art’. [75] 

 

Notes.

1. Jean Moréas. (1856-1910) Name adopted by Iannis Pappadiamantopoulos. Born in Athens of Greek parentage, he lived in Paris after 1870. In the initial stage of his literary career, he championed the Symbolist cause, contributing critical work to many French reviews and producing two collections of sonnets and lyrics.

2. John Davis Butler, Jean Moréas (Paris: Mouton, 1967), p. 46.

3. Cinquantenaire du Symbolisme, Editions des Bibliothèques Nationales, introduction by Edmond Jaloux, (n.pub), p.7.

4. Jules Lemaitre. (1853-1914) Dramatic critic of the Journal des Débats and dramatist in his own right although only moderately succesful in this field.

5. John Davis Butler, p. 49.

6. Cinquantenaire du Symbolisme, p. 11.

7. John Davis Butler, p. 54.

8. Cinquantenaire du Symbolisme, p. 10.

9.  Jacques Robichez, Le Symbolisme au théâtre (Paris: L’Arche, 1957), p. 19.

10. Ibid, p. 20.

11. John Davis Butler, p. 45.

12. Jacques Robichez, p. 20.

13. Jacques Robichez, p. 67.

14. Camille Mauclair (1872-1945) Name adopted by Séverin Faust, French novelist, poet, essayist and literary critic.

15. Jacques Robichez, p. 180.

16. Ibid, p. 81.

17. Maurice Maeterlinck, Maeterlinckisme, 2 Vols (Brussels: Castaigne, 1939), I, 115.

18. Ibid, I, 119.

19. Cinquantenaire du Symbolisme, p. 7.

20. John Davis Butler, p. 54.

21. Jacques Robichez, p. 83.

22. Ibid, p. 85.

23. Ibid, p. 83.

24. Cahiers Paul Claudel: Tête d’Or et les débuts littéraires, 10 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1959), 1, 41.

25. Jacques Robichez, p. 80.

26. The first version of Tête d’Or was published anonymously by Librairie de l’Art Indépendant in 1890. All subsequent references to the play will be incorporated in the main body of the text and will refer to Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1953) Vol VI, pp. 235-391.

27. Cahiers Paul Claudel, I, 128.

28. André Tissier, Tête d’Or de Paul Claudel (Paris: Édition d’enseignement supérieur, 1968), p. 48.

29. Cahiers Paul Claudel, I, 137-138.

30. Gabriel Marcel, Regards sur le théâtre de Claudel, (Beauchesne: Paris, 1964), p. 164.

31. Cahiers Paul Claudel, I, 140.

32. Marianne Mercier-Campiche, Le Théâtre de Paul Claudel ou la puissance du grief, (Pauvert: Paris, 1968) p, 46.

33. Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1953) VI, 409.

34. Cahiers Paul Claudel, I, 140.

35. André Tissier, p. 84.

36. Ibid, p. 104.

37. Marianne Mercier-Campiche, p. 38.

38. Ibid, p. 31.

39. Ibid, p.39.

40. Gabriel Marcel, p. 165.

41. Cahiers Paul Claudel, I, 147.

42. Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel, VI, 409.

43. Ibid, p. 410.

44. André Tissier, p. 56.

45. Ibid.

46. Paul Claudel, Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Conversations, Contacts et Circonstances, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1959) XVI, 191.

47. Ibid.

48. Ibid, p. 192.

49. André Tissier, p. 69.

50. The version to which reference is made is Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1955) IX

51. André Tissier, p. 70

52.  Cinquantenaire du Symbolisme, p. 8.

53. Claude Mauriac, Hommes et Idées d’Aujourd’hui (Paris: Albin Michel, 1953), p. 79.

54. Paul Claudel, Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: L’Oeil Écoute, ed. by Pierre Claudel & Jacques Petit, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1960) XVII, 207.  

55. Cinquantenaire du Symbolisme, p. 11.

56. This text was published for the first time in 1924, by Éditions Excelsior, Paris with a preface by Jean Royère. The edition to which all subsequent references will be made is Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1954) VII, 233-323.   

57. Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1955) IX, 279.

58. Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel, XVI, 202.

59. Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel, IX, 293.

60. Ibid, p. 305.

61. Ibid, p. 279.

62. The second version was first published in 1901 in L’Arbre (Paris: Mercure de France) The edition to which all subsequent references will be made is  Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1954) VII, 327-430.   

63. Oeuvres Complètes, IX, 313.

64. The third version was first published in La Nouvelle Revue Française between December 1911 and April 1912. The volume towhich all subsequent references will be made is Oeuvres Complètes de Paul Claudel de l’Académie Française: Théâtre, ed. by Robert Mallet, 22 Vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1955) IX, 9-146.   

65. Auguste Anglès, André Gide et le premier groupe de La Nouvelle Revue Française (Paris: Gallimard, 1986), p. 217.

66. Ibid.

67. Oeuvres Complètes, IX, 294.  

68. Oeuvres Complètes, IX, 296.  

69. Ibid.

70. Ibid, 313.

71. John Middleton Murry, ‘Literature and Religion’, Quarterly Review of Literature, Vol 1, 305.

72. André Tissier, p. 49.

73. I undertake a more detailed discussion of this final phase in the play’s evolutionary journey in an article that is to appear in MLR, April 2001.

74. Haskell. M. Block, Mallarmé and the symbolist drama (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1963), p. 85.

75. John Davis Butler, p. 45.