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Chief Rivals of Corneille and Racine
Lockert, Lacy
605 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1956
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December 14, 2025
I have so many good things to say about this truly essential collection. For some reason I read Lockert's second collection—More Plays by Rivals of Corneille and Racine—before reading this one, but either way I feel really thankful to have been able to read both! These two collections, which give us twenty-five French tragedies in translation, are a wealth of knowledge about the period and French tragedy in general. It's a superb collection filled with numerous excellent plays. Not all are great, of course, but one gets a very good portrait of the French tragic stage in the period from 1634 to 1732. I'll describe each play, since for many these are the only English translations:
Sophonisbe (1634) by Jean de Marait
This was apparently very popular when it premiered, but its construction is wonky. The play follows Sophonisba for its first two acts and then it is her lover Massinissa's story for the final three. One wishes it just followed Massinissa the entire time. In any case, this play is more a melodrama than anything else—a man torn between love and loyalty to Rome—and for me it didn't hold any charms other than these. The entire thing feels preordained, and the play holds no surprises. Incidentally, the plot of Mairet's Sophonisbe is very different from John Marston's The Wonder of Women or the Tragedy of Sophonisba, which has Sophonisba married to Massinissa from the beginning and assailed by the unjust love of Syphax. In Mairet's play, she is married to Syphax, then he is killed, then she marries Massinissa a few hours later. I always thought it was quite callous the way Massinissa killed his wife in Marston's play, but strangely, I feel the opposite about Mairet's Massinissa, who kills himself after being married to Sophonisba for 18 hours. If Marston's Massinissa is callous, Mairet's Massinissa is a fool.
La Mariane (1636) by Tristan l'Hermite
This is really good, although it lacks the intrigue and series of reversals that are such a great feature of Tristan L'Hermite's later plays La Mort de Sénèque and Osman. This one is much less dynamic. Still, Herod is an amazing character in this—tyrannical and lovesick and filled with emotion. Mariamne herself appears very little, and we hear much more about her than we actually spend time with her. She is nowhere near the towering diva she is in Alexandre Hardy's version of Mariamne from some 20-30 years earlier. This is a play about Herod. The best scene in the play, however, is with Mariamne and her mother Alexandra (4.3). It's amazingly powerful.
Saül (1640) by Pierre Du Ryer
This was excellent. It moves swiftly and assuredly. It has a wonderful third act in which Saul hires a witch and calls up a ghost. But most importantly this is filled with tragic drama. Du Ryer transforms the biblical account of Saul and his jealousy of David into a superb tragedy, whereby Saul is possessed by his demons and tormented by the silence of his god, who refuses to speak to him.
Scévole (c. 1644) by Pierre Du Ryer
I am surprised that Lockert included this play in his collection, since it is not quite a tragedy (not one of the characters onstage dies, and the whole thing ends happily, even with a marriage). Scévole is a dynamic, exciting play that moves very quickly and is filled with intrigue. The politics of the thing make no sense, and Lockert rightly critiques the play's romanesque qualities, but it is very easy to see why Scévole was so popular with audiences in the 1640s. The character of Scaevola himself is absolutely magnificent. His speeches justifying his actions, his defiance of tyranny, and his untrammeled pride are stunning. He's just the coolest character.
Venceslas (1647) by Jean de Rotrou
This is the best play so far in the collection. Routrou's Venceslas has twists and turns and real surprises. The play is honestly filled with shocking turns of events. The ending (as Lockert points out) is a little bit out there, but the path to get there is truly pleasurable, and I had a great time. Act 4 in particular is brilliantly plotted, and act 4 gives us some gorgeous turns of phrase. What's more, it seems to me that it is very likely that Alfred Jarry took the names Venceslas and Ladislas, as well as the setting (Poland) from Rotrou's play. It's impossible to be sure, of course, but it would seem a very fitting little Jarryesque joke.
Cosroès (1648) by Jean de Rotrou
So much good intrigue. This is a really enjoyable historical tragedy set in Persia in 628. It is mostly a character study, though, and not of the eponymous Chosroès but his son, Siroès. Acts 3 and 4 are a bit less strong than acts 1, 2, and 5—they are busy with a silly love plot and a mistaken identity story that feels out of place in a strong tragedy like Cosroès. But act 5 brings the whole thing home, and the play is filled with intrigue and surprises up to its finale. It even leaves us with a bit of a cliffhanger in its character study, with the fate of the new king in certain emotional peril. Cosroès has some other really intriguing qualities too. The end of act 1 seems to come chronologically after the beginning of act 2, and this makes for better drama and a more interesting plot, even if it doesn't quite make logical sense according to neoclassical dramaturgical rules.
Laodice, Reyne de Cappadoce (1668) by Thomas Corneille
This is an absurd play. For some reason Lockert does not categorize this as one of Corneille's romanesque plays, even though it plainly is one. These are plays in which the younger Corneille excelled; they are filled with intrigue and plot devices but have nothing to do with history, and the location actually does not matter at all. The plot of Laodice is theoretically from the middle of the second century BCE and concerns Ariarathes the King of Cappadocia. But this play could take place anywhere at all, and it exists only for purposes of melodrama. I found the whole thing quite silly, and the characters are all underdeveloped and rather nonsensical. It does have some fun sequences, particularly in acts 3 and 4 as we focus on palace intrigue, but the ending is a let-down and the protagonist, young Ariarathes, is not at all interesting.
Le Comte d'Essex (1678) by Thomas Corneille
Corneille's Comte d'Essex reimagines the Essex rebellion as an enormous misunderstanding that was really an act of love for another woman, and Elizabeth's execution of Essex as the act of a jealous, jilted lover. The play is good, and it has a very strong Racinean quality to it—the most powerful person in the play loves someone unrequitedly, and so she destroys him and thereby, of course, destroys herself. The only real critique of Le Comte d'Essex is that not much happens in it. The characters go round and round here, saying almost exactly the same thing from act 1 to act 5, and I rather wished there was some exploration of political motivation or some other discussion of Essex's own complexity. Somehow it all does manage to work well enough, though, as long as one isn't looking for too much action or indeed for anyone to change too much. The characters are finely drawn, and like Racine's characters, they possess singular drives that take them directly to their own dooms.
Andronic (1685) by Jean-Galbert de Campistron
This is great. Andronic is a retelling of the Carlos of Asturias legend—nearly 100 years before Vittorio Alfieri and Friedrich Schiller would write their Don Carlos plays. It is here highly fictionalized and transferred to the court of John V Palaiologos in 14th century Byzantium. Campistron's play is a Racinean drama for sure, filled with prying eyes and forbidden love, as well as a powerful emperor who refuses to be loved and suffers because of his coldness toward his son. Andronic himself is an absolutely magnificent character, and Campistron's fourth act is a masterful character study, with Andronic humbling himself before the emperor to appease his beloved while being rejected by his own father's cruelty. It really is an excellent play. One might say that this is derivative of Racine, but perhaps one might instead say that it is a worthy successor to tragedy in the Racinean school.
Manlius Capitolinus (1698) by Antoine de La Fosse
This is somewhat of a retelling of the English Restoration tragedy Venice Preserv'd, but it moves the situation of Otway's play from Republican Venice to Republican Rome and the legend of Manlius Capitolinus's sedition in 384 BCE. I am of two minds about this play. On the one hand, it has some really fascinating characters, drawn (as usual for late-17th-century French tragedy) in two opposing directions, and it really sticks the landing quite nicely. But the play's opening doesn't ring very believable, and acts one and two seem only to be there so that they can set up the tragedy to come. Still, La Fosse's play moves quickly, and this is a very intriguing example (the first?) of a French tragedy based on an English one.
Rhadamiste et Zénobie (1711) by Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon
The melodramatic tendencies of Crébillon's play are very clear. This is a nonsensical bit of tearful tragedy, with way too much lamentation and an absolutely insane expository sequence. The plot, indeed, is so confusing as to be completely useless, and although the play apparently is set in CE 53 or so, it is so removed from any true historical context and so committed only to its melodramatic emotional sequences that it might as well be set at absolutely any time designated by the author. I did really love the character of Arasmes in this play, though, and for me he is the only real redeeming figure. If my theatre history knowledge serves, this was, I think, a very popular play, and I think that says a lot more about early-18th century taste than it does about the merits of the play itself. This is the period of time when comédies larmoyantes had gained enormous popularity. Rhadamiste et Zénobie is, perhaps, the tragic version of the same.
Zaïre (1732) by Voltaire
This starts off rather stupidly, with lots of nonsense about Christianity that I found empty and annoying. The character Fatima is a particularly heinous example of a Christian ideologue who is possessed of no human feeling whatsoever. I wonder if this was intended by the playwright. The Christianity in this play is so unconvincing that as I read I began to believe that Voltaire himself did not believe it, that the play's invocations of Christianity might be intended as critique rather than sincerity. The character of Orosmane, the sultan who loves wildly and madly is, it must be admitted, clearly based on Shakespeare's Othello, but Voltaire has crafted him beautifully, and he is a fully realized, magnificent figure with more than one gorgeous scene and plenty of scenery to chew. He is also more magnanimous, more generous and kind and caring than any of the play's Christians. Zaïre, too, is absolutely wonderful, if perhaps a bit too tearful. This play really won me over in its final three acts, emerging as a star-crossed love story with two really sympathetic lovers who are doomed by one's very stupid fealty to a religion she has barely known and a father she has met only once. Zaïre ends up being quite moving, despite the unnecessary deaths it describes. But, then, perhaps that is the distinction between tragedy in the 17th century and tragedy in the 18th. For 17th century playwrights (and, indeed, those in antiquity), tragedy comes from necessity. In the 18th century, the tragedy's lack of necessity introduces melodrama.
Sophonisbe (1634) by Jean de Marait
This was apparently very popular when it premiered, but its construction is wonky. The play follows Sophonisba for its first two acts and then it is her lover Massinissa's story for the final three. One wishes it just followed Massinissa the entire time. In any case, this play is more a melodrama than anything else—a man torn between love and loyalty to Rome—and for me it didn't hold any charms other than these. The entire thing feels preordained, and the play holds no surprises. Incidentally, the plot of Mairet's Sophonisbe is very different from John Marston's The Wonder of Women or the Tragedy of Sophonisba, which has Sophonisba married to Massinissa from the beginning and assailed by the unjust love of Syphax. In Mairet's play, she is married to Syphax, then he is killed, then she marries Massinissa a few hours later. I always thought it was quite callous the way Massinissa killed his wife in Marston's play, but strangely, I feel the opposite about Mairet's Massinissa, who kills himself after being married to Sophonisba for 18 hours. If Marston's Massinissa is callous, Mairet's Massinissa is a fool.
La Mariane (1636) by Tristan l'Hermite
This is really good, although it lacks the intrigue and series of reversals that are such a great feature of Tristan L'Hermite's later plays La Mort de Sénèque and Osman. This one is much less dynamic. Still, Herod is an amazing character in this—tyrannical and lovesick and filled with emotion. Mariamne herself appears very little, and we hear much more about her than we actually spend time with her. She is nowhere near the towering diva she is in Alexandre Hardy's version of Mariamne from some 20-30 years earlier. This is a play about Herod. The best scene in the play, however, is with Mariamne and her mother Alexandra (4.3). It's amazingly powerful.
Saül (1640) by Pierre Du Ryer
This was excellent. It moves swiftly and assuredly. It has a wonderful third act in which Saul hires a witch and calls up a ghost. But most importantly this is filled with tragic drama. Du Ryer transforms the biblical account of Saul and his jealousy of David into a superb tragedy, whereby Saul is possessed by his demons and tormented by the silence of his god, who refuses to speak to him.
Scévole (c. 1644) by Pierre Du Ryer
I am surprised that Lockert included this play in his collection, since it is not quite a tragedy (not one of the characters onstage dies, and the whole thing ends happily, even with a marriage). Scévole is a dynamic, exciting play that moves very quickly and is filled with intrigue. The politics of the thing make no sense, and Lockert rightly critiques the play's romanesque qualities, but it is very easy to see why Scévole was so popular with audiences in the 1640s. The character of Scaevola himself is absolutely magnificent. His speeches justifying his actions, his defiance of tyranny, and his untrammeled pride are stunning. He's just the coolest character.
Venceslas (1647) by Jean de Rotrou
This is the best play so far in the collection. Routrou's Venceslas has twists and turns and real surprises. The play is honestly filled with shocking turns of events. The ending (as Lockert points out) is a little bit out there, but the path to get there is truly pleasurable, and I had a great time. Act 4 in particular is brilliantly plotted, and act 4 gives us some gorgeous turns of phrase. What's more, it seems to me that it is very likely that Alfred Jarry took the names Venceslas and Ladislas, as well as the setting (Poland) from Rotrou's play. It's impossible to be sure, of course, but it would seem a very fitting little Jarryesque joke.
Cosroès (1648) by Jean de Rotrou
So much good intrigue. This is a really enjoyable historical tragedy set in Persia in 628. It is mostly a character study, though, and not of the eponymous Chosroès but his son, Siroès. Acts 3 and 4 are a bit less strong than acts 1, 2, and 5—they are busy with a silly love plot and a mistaken identity story that feels out of place in a strong tragedy like Cosroès. But act 5 brings the whole thing home, and the play is filled with intrigue and surprises up to its finale. It even leaves us with a bit of a cliffhanger in its character study, with the fate of the new king in certain emotional peril. Cosroès has some other really intriguing qualities too. The end of act 1 seems to come chronologically after the beginning of act 2, and this makes for better drama and a more interesting plot, even if it doesn't quite make logical sense according to neoclassical dramaturgical rules.
Laodice, Reyne de Cappadoce (1668) by Thomas Corneille
This is an absurd play. For some reason Lockert does not categorize this as one of Corneille's romanesque plays, even though it plainly is one. These are plays in which the younger Corneille excelled; they are filled with intrigue and plot devices but have nothing to do with history, and the location actually does not matter at all. The plot of Laodice is theoretically from the middle of the second century BCE and concerns Ariarathes the King of Cappadocia. But this play could take place anywhere at all, and it exists only for purposes of melodrama. I found the whole thing quite silly, and the characters are all underdeveloped and rather nonsensical. It does have some fun sequences, particularly in acts 3 and 4 as we focus on palace intrigue, but the ending is a let-down and the protagonist, young Ariarathes, is not at all interesting.
Le Comte d'Essex (1678) by Thomas Corneille
Corneille's Comte d'Essex reimagines the Essex rebellion as an enormous misunderstanding that was really an act of love for another woman, and Elizabeth's execution of Essex as the act of a jealous, jilted lover. The play is good, and it has a very strong Racinean quality to it—the most powerful person in the play loves someone unrequitedly, and so she destroys him and thereby, of course, destroys herself. The only real critique of Le Comte d'Essex is that not much happens in it. The characters go round and round here, saying almost exactly the same thing from act 1 to act 5, and I rather wished there was some exploration of political motivation or some other discussion of Essex's own complexity. Somehow it all does manage to work well enough, though, as long as one isn't looking for too much action or indeed for anyone to change too much. The characters are finely drawn, and like Racine's characters, they possess singular drives that take them directly to their own dooms.
Andronic (1685) by Jean-Galbert de Campistron
This is great. Andronic is a retelling of the Carlos of Asturias legend—nearly 100 years before Vittorio Alfieri and Friedrich Schiller would write their Don Carlos plays. It is here highly fictionalized and transferred to the court of John V Palaiologos in 14th century Byzantium. Campistron's play is a Racinean drama for sure, filled with prying eyes and forbidden love, as well as a powerful emperor who refuses to be loved and suffers because of his coldness toward his son. Andronic himself is an absolutely magnificent character, and Campistron's fourth act is a masterful character study, with Andronic humbling himself before the emperor to appease his beloved while being rejected by his own father's cruelty. It really is an excellent play. One might say that this is derivative of Racine, but perhaps one might instead say that it is a worthy successor to tragedy in the Racinean school.
Manlius Capitolinus (1698) by Antoine de La Fosse
This is somewhat of a retelling of the English Restoration tragedy Venice Preserv'd, but it moves the situation of Otway's play from Republican Venice to Republican Rome and the legend of Manlius Capitolinus's sedition in 384 BCE. I am of two minds about this play. On the one hand, it has some really fascinating characters, drawn (as usual for late-17th-century French tragedy) in two opposing directions, and it really sticks the landing quite nicely. But the play's opening doesn't ring very believable, and acts one and two seem only to be there so that they can set up the tragedy to come. Still, La Fosse's play moves quickly, and this is a very intriguing example (the first?) of a French tragedy based on an English one.
Rhadamiste et Zénobie (1711) by Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon
The melodramatic tendencies of Crébillon's play are very clear. This is a nonsensical bit of tearful tragedy, with way too much lamentation and an absolutely insane expository sequence. The plot, indeed, is so confusing as to be completely useless, and although the play apparently is set in CE 53 or so, it is so removed from any true historical context and so committed only to its melodramatic emotional sequences that it might as well be set at absolutely any time designated by the author. I did really love the character of Arasmes in this play, though, and for me he is the only real redeeming figure. If my theatre history knowledge serves, this was, I think, a very popular play, and I think that says a lot more about early-18th century taste than it does about the merits of the play itself. This is the period of time when comédies larmoyantes had gained enormous popularity. Rhadamiste et Zénobie is, perhaps, the tragic version of the same.
Zaïre (1732) by Voltaire
This starts off rather stupidly, with lots of nonsense about Christianity that I found empty and annoying. The character Fatima is a particularly heinous example of a Christian ideologue who is possessed of no human feeling whatsoever. I wonder if this was intended by the playwright. The Christianity in this play is so unconvincing that as I read I began to believe that Voltaire himself did not believe it, that the play's invocations of Christianity might be intended as critique rather than sincerity. The character of Orosmane, the sultan who loves wildly and madly is, it must be admitted, clearly based on Shakespeare's Othello, but Voltaire has crafted him beautifully, and he is a fully realized, magnificent figure with more than one gorgeous scene and plenty of scenery to chew. He is also more magnanimous, more generous and kind and caring than any of the play's Christians. Zaïre, too, is absolutely wonderful, if perhaps a bit too tearful. This play really won me over in its final three acts, emerging as a star-crossed love story with two really sympathetic lovers who are doomed by one's very stupid fealty to a religion she has barely known and a father she has met only once. Zaïre ends up being quite moving, despite the unnecessary deaths it describes. But, then, perhaps that is the distinction between tragedy in the 17th century and tragedy in the 18th. For 17th century playwrights (and, indeed, those in antiquity), tragedy comes from necessity. In the 18th century, the tragedy's lack of necessity introduces melodrama.
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