Version anglaise de l’article « Jeux de voiles : le tour de force de Corneille dans La Galerie du Palais »

1Corneille’s early comedy, La Galerie du Palais (1631-1632), is known above all for the innovative and “realistic” inclusion of merchants selling their wares1. The plot, however, focuses on a circular daisy-chain of lovers: Dorimant is smitten with Hippolyte who pines after Lysandre who loves Célidée who, despite two years of stable courtship with Lysandre, is suddenly attracted to Dorimant. It should be immediately clear from my one-sentence description of the play that Célidée differs from the other three characters because she is unfaithful. Indeed, le change – abandoning the object of one’s affection, typically, for another – is considered a grave crime among lovers in seventeenth-century France2. Célidée is hardly the only character in Corneille’s comedies guilty of change, but she is the only woman in the group of Corneille’s five early comedies who has pledged her foi to suddenly lose interest in her betrothed. That loss of interest is motivated by her desire for Dorimant. While manifest desire in a female character is more common than change, neither are considered seemly in a young woman of the period3.

2What concerns me here are not Célidée’s offenses per se, but rather how Corneille plays with the character of Célidée. She remains – or regains the role of – the jeune première despite behavior completely uncharacteristic of that role. Between two years of an untroubled courtship and the conclusion uniting Célidée and Lysandre permanently in marriage, something has gone awry. I suggest that Corneille rather playfully set himself a challenge to see, while misleading the spectator, how far he could move his comedic heroine from the norms of her role and yet recuperate her at the end4. In what follows I propose to examine how Corneille both sets forth, and yet simultaneously deflects attention from, Célidée’s transgressions.

3Typically in comedy a threat to the young couple’s happiness comes from the outside, and in part it does here as well (Célidée’s scheming friend Hippolyte); it arises primarily, however, as a consequence of Célidée’s two offenses, desire and change. Desire and change are hardly unique to La Galerie du Palais. The expression of desire by women is fairly common in Corneille’s early comedies. In Mélite, the eponymous heroine is smitten with Tircis and shares her feelings with him. In La Veuve, Clarice admits her feelings to Philiste and gives him a bracelet made of her hair as a token of love (II.4). In the same play, Doris complains that her desires count for naught, but is unable to voice – that is, she does not have – any inclination of her own (IV.9). In La Place Royale, Angélique is open about her love for Alidor. As far as change is concerned, in Mélite, the heroine is accused of change by Cloris because of fake letters that Mélite was believed to have written to Philandre, but it is Philandre who is guilty, abandoning Cloris for the illusion that Mélite desires him. In fact, Philandre, a male, is the only other character in the early comedies to duplicate Célidée’s double offense of change and desire. Amarante in La Suivante is the repeated victim of change; her desire has no specific object beyond any respectable man who will marry her. In the same play, Daphnis fears that she will be forced into a change by her father, but instead it is Théante who is unfaithful to Amarante5. In La Place Royale, change and desire have a more central role than in any other of these comedies, but in a fashion very different than that which we find in La Galerie. While Angélique is a desiring female, Alidor’s desire for freedom is stronger than his desire for Angélique. Indeed, he is the master of change, twice cruelly breaking off his commitment to her, then seeking to re-engage with her yet a third time. Angélique is technically guilty of change herself: in a moment of chagrin after Alidor has abandoned her, she accepts Doraste’s persistent offer of marriage, a commitment she later refuses to honor. Her conduct, however, is clearly a simple consequence of Alidor’s abusive treatment of her.

4The primary tactic that Corneille employs to morally compromise and then redeem Célidée is the camouflage provided by various screens. But before discussing precisely how such screens conceal Célidée’s desire and her change, it is necessary to take a close look at Célidée’s specific offenses. The need for such an approach, as well as the proof of the efficacy of the numerous screens I will detail, comes from the fact that the vast majority of commentary on this play ignores, denies, or somehow recuperates Célidée’s infractions. She is typically perceived and almost universally described in positive terms6. At the same time, there is broad recognition that Célidée is an unusually complex character (Couton 1285, Picciola 620, Litman 86).

5Célidée’s desire for Dorimant first comes to light in act 2 scene 5 when she learns that Hippolyte does not welcome the latter’s courtship. Célidée reacts with surprise and admits her own attraction to him:

                            Dorimant t’importune,
Quoi ? J’enviais déjà ton heureuse fortune,
Et déjà dans l’esprit je sentais de l’ennui,
D’avoir connu Lysandre auparavant de lui7. (II.5.505-08)

6Célidée’s desire takes its most direct form in a brief scene in which she comes upon Lysandre and Dorimant ready to take up arms against one another. She exclaims: “Ah perfide [Lysandre], sur moi décharge ton courroux, / La mort de Dorimant me serait trop funeste” (V.3.1560-1561), although it is unclear whether either man hears what she says, as she has just come on stage. But as Dorimant leaves, she clearly calls after him, “Arrête, mon souci” (V.3.1563), thereby explicitly revealing her feelings in front of Lysandre.

7Other expressions of desire are combined with change. Discussing Dorimant with Hippolyte, one hears the clear note of desire when Célidée exclaims: “Ô Dieux ! si je pouvais changer sans infamie !” (II.5.569). Trying to prevent a duel between Dorimant and Lysandre (the former believes the latter has taken Hippolyte from him), Célidée proposes to Dorimant a mathematically elegant exchange whereby he can avenge himself by taking her in place of Hippolyte (IV.3.1149-1156). Dorimant’s immediate dismissal of Célidée’s offer demonstrates the humiliating futility of female desire in this dramatic universe8. Corneille, writing in the 1660 Examen, decades after the play first appeared, himself criticized this unseemly manifestation of his heroine’s desire, saying, “Célidée particulièrement s’emporte jusqu’à s’offrir elle-même” (304). The playwright goes on at some length, excusing Célidée on the grounds of the pique she experiences at Lysandre’s seeming rejection of her, and defending his own right to portray characters who have imperfections9. Corneille does finally admit that “cela va trop avant, et passe trop la bienséance et la modestie du sexe, bien qu’absolument il ne soit pas condamnable10” (304).

8Desire is a frequent blind spot in the critical readings of this play. While change may be the greater infraction, unauthorized female desire is seemingly more troubling. A surprising number of readings of this play either do not acknowledge Célidée’s desire for Dorimant (Litman, Kerr, Nadal, Sweetser, Doubrovsky11) or see that desire as merely a reaction to Lysandre’s flirtation with Hippolyte (Margitic 340, Hubert 18). Célidée’s desire for Dorimant is patently present in the play well before Lysandre flirts with Hippolyte, yet it seems to be successfully screened from view for a number of accomplished scholars. The same is not the case with change. That infraction is widely perceived (Verhoeff, Nadal, Sweetser, Abraham [“L’Envers”]), although some either don’t view it as problematic (Litman 81) or else they recuperate it through trivialization. Abraham calls it “fickleness” (Pierre Corneille 40) and Couton speaks of Célidée’s “inconstance naturelle” (in Corneille 85); Rousset finds it to be almost a personality trait: “non pas qu’un autre l’attire davantage ; simplement, l’immobilité ne lui est pas naturelle” (206). Corneille effectively camouflages Célidée’s sexual desire.

9La Galerie du Palais provides a thorough consideration of change and the issues associated with it. Célidée is indeed naturally attracted to change (“Mon cœur a de la peine à demeurer constant” II.5.512), but she is buffetted between her desire for Dorimant, (“De quelque doux espoir que le change me flatte” II.5.573), her implicit understanding of the social disapproval attached to change (“si je pouvais changer sans infamie” II.5.569), a loss of interest in Lysandre (“Lysandre me déplaît de me vouloir du bien” II.5.515), and general confusion (“Tant mon esprit confus a d’inégalités” II.5.576). Lysandre is quick to identify Célidée’s coldness towards him in act 2 scene 6 as change by virtue of her statement: “mon cœur n’est plus dans vos liens” (II.6.600), and he lectures her on the social implications of such conduct: “Évitez-en [du change] la honte, et fuyez-en le blâme” (II.6.621); “Un reproche éternel suit ce trait inconstant12” (II.6.623). Most importantly, we learn the true problem attendant to change: if someone changes once, what is there to ensure that they will not change again? Both Hippolyte and Lysandre make that point, at different moments in the play (III.5.943-945 and IV.4.1217-1220, respectively), underscoring the central value of fidelity, one shared by all the main characters except Célidée. Until the end of the play, everything that Hippolyte does – most of it not very sympathetic – is motivated by her unwavering passion for Lysandre. The latter’s courtship of Hippolyte is brief, unconvincing, and patently a tactical move to bring Célidée back to him through jealousy. Dorimant shows no interest in anyone but Hippolyte. Thus, it is only Célidée who is a creature of change, and from what the play demonstrates and the characters articulate, change is both reprehensible and unwise. Even Lysandre’s brief, feigned change has unpleasant consequences, as Dorimant is thereby convinced of Lysandre’s disloyalty. However, Dorimant’s anger and the threatened duel are far more serious repercussions than those faced by Célidée, which brings us back to the screens behind which Corneille hides his heroine’s misdeeds.

10I will define the term “screen” to be any element that serves to hide, camouflage, or deflect attention from something, specifically here, the fact that Célidée is a woman operating outside of social norms and expectations. A woman capable of breaking her pledge to a man and capable of sexual desire is dangerous in the world that Corneille depicts. The screens used to obscure her offenses in the play are numerous and varied.

11The first screen is the Galerie du Palais itself, with its shopkeepers and wares for sale. The scenes at the fashionable marketplace (I.4-9, IV.10-13) allow Corneille to discuss theater and literature through his characters and create a context for Lysandre and Dorimant to theorize about love. These scenes even suggest larger thematic concerns by calling attention to the transactional nature of relationships as well as unethical practices (the lingère’s offer of a bribe to Florice echoes Hippolyte’s general conduct). The fact remains, however, that for all the local color the Galerie offers, such scenes are almost entirely divorced from the plot itself13. It functions as a screen because it diverts attention from Célidée; she is the only one of the main characters never to appear in a Galerie scene. The Galerie thus sets up a rival center of interest to Célidée and her actions.

12Parents serve as a screen as well. They can be hidden behind and used as a means to deflect unwanted male attention. Célidée has a father, Pleirante, and Hippolyte a mother, Chrysante. Both young women explicitly, but perhaps not entirely convincingly, proclaim their subservience to their parent’s wishes for the choice of a marriage partner (Célidée I.2 and Hippolyte III.8 and V.8). In both cases, the desire Célidée and Hippolyte feel for a particular man has nothing whatsoever to do with the parents’ wishes. Célidée’s situation is particularly incongruous. In the second scene of the play, she meets with her father who announces his approval of the man (Lysandre) whom Célidée has been seeing for last two years. Instead of reacting with pleasure, Célidée makes the following assertion:

J’aime son entretien, je chéris sa présence,
Mais cela n’est aussi qu’un peu de complaisance,
Qu’un mouvement léger qui passe en moins d’un jour.
Vos seuls commandements produiront mon amour,
Et votre volonté de la mienne suivie… (I.2.37-41)

13The “mouvement léger qui passe en moins d’un jour” is particularly jarring in light of the two-year duration of their relationship, and the entire statement suggests the possibility of change. Célidée attempts to conceal her reluctance to commit herself behind her subservience to her father, but his mind is made up. Despite being an indulgent and loving father, he is still the patriarch, and he orders Célidée to “Engage-lui ta foi14” (I.2.47), a command Pleirante will reiterate even more forcefully in IV.8, after having explicitly promised his daughter to Lysandre.

14Pleirante serves as a screen in another fashion as well. When Célidée resists her father’s order to marry Lysandre, Pleirante suspects that his daughter has eyes for another: “Quelque nouveau venu vous donne dans les yeux, / Quelque jeune étourdi qui vous flatte un peu mieux” (IV.8.1391-2). His formulation trivializes his daughter’s potential for desire and change, making it seem a small matter of no consequence. That he readily surmises that Célidée would be susceptible to a “nouveau venu” is nonetheless curious in its implications; at the very least he thinks of her as a child.

15Lysandre and Dorimant also provide a screen for Célidée. They share the stage for a considerable period of time while engaged in direct conversation15. The first screen they provide pertains to change. The possibility that each of the two men is capable of change is explicitly raised and shown to be false. Lysandre mistakenly imagines that Dorimant was smitten with two different women in the space of two days, but the latter assures him that they are one and the same, namely Hippolyte (II.3.414-415). Later, Lysandre openly, but insincerely, courts the enraptured Hippolyte. While Célidée accuses him of infidelity, the audience knows that to be false. If Lysandre and Dorimant prove incapable of change, despite appearances, the reader/spectator may be tempted to assume that Célidée, a member of the same social circle, is equally unlikely to commit that effraction. The second screen that the two men provide is far less subtle: their noisy jealousy and violent reaction to what is, at base, a quid pro quo. Behind Lysandre’s belief that Dorimant has stolen his woman lies Célidée’s desire, not Dorimant’s. For his part, Dorimant reacts violently to Lysandre’s sudden apparent interest in Hippolyte. Neither, of course, has betrayed his friend. In fact, Lysandre has so little interest in Hippolyte that it never occurs to him that his friend might view his actions as a betrayal, all the more so because Lysandre uses his influence behind the scenes to further a potential union between Hippolyte and Dorimant. Behind the two men’s suspicions (accompanied by drawn swords) hides Célidée, who has betrayed Lysandre and made advances to Dorimant, but whom we are again led to believe, on the basis of the model of the two men, may be no more guilty than they.

16Another screen is provided by the presence of a second couple. While Hippolyte and Dorimant will marry, their prospects are not bright. Hippolyte does not so much accept Dorimant as not explicitly refuse him. And while Hippolyte implies strongly that once Lysandre marries Célidée, she will be free of her obsession with him for lack of hope (V.5.1709-1710), her reluctance to commit herself suggests that matters have not yet been resolved. In contrast, and from the beginning of the play, Célidée and Lysandre constitute the superior couple: they have been together for two years and their marriage, approved by all, is in the offing. Their relative superiority as a couple to Hippolyte and Dorimant works to camouflage Célidée’s offenses.

17Beyond serving as part of the less promising couple, Hippolyte herself constitutes a screen behind which Célidée’s conduct can be hidden. Hippolyte is so patently pernicious that attention is reflexively deflected from Célidée. Both are guilty of two offenses. First, Hippolyte, like Célidée, is guilty of desire; like her as well, that desire is entirely independent of the wishes of her parent. Unlike Célidée, however, Hippolyte’s attraction is unwavering and presumably of some significant duration. It is also foregrounded in the play: her plot to win Lysandre is the subject of the first scene of act I. Indeed, much of the play’s action involves Hippolyte’s efforts to separate Célidée from Lysandre and claim him for herself. Those specific efforts constitute Hippolyte’s second offense which involves her conduct toward her friend: she lies, betrays Célidée, and works to corrupt her. Leaving aside the rather ineffectual efforts of Hippolyte’s suivante, Florice, and Lysandre’s squire, Aronte, whom she has bribed to advance her cause with his master, Hippolyte openly encourages Célidée’s temptation to change lovers. Hippolyte suggests that Lysandre would drop Célidée – and thereby free her from all responsibility for a change – if only she were not so obliging toward him. “Ses feux dureront autant que tes faveurs” (II.5.524), says Hippolyte, providing an example from her past: “Alcidor que mes yeux avaient si fort épris / Me quitta cependant dès le moindre mépris” (II.5.538-539). Instead of focusing on Célidée’s real desire for freedom to pursue Dorimant, Hippolyte turns Célidée’s complaint of Lysandre’s excessive devotion into the need to test him (“La force de l’amour paraît dans la souffrance” [II.5.541]), thereby taking advantage of the situation in order to throw a wrench into Célidée’s and Lysandre’s relationship. Hippolyte thus corrupts Célidée into conducting her relationship with Lysandre through feintes. Hippolyte admits that she is a disloyal friend, addressing the absent Célidée in a short monologue at the end of act II scene 4: “Célidée, il est vrai, je te suis déloyale, / Tu me crois ton amie, et je suis ta rivale” (II.4.497-498). Even later, once Hippolyte recognizes that Lysandre does not and will not love her, she nonetheless takes pleasure in his jealousy, and in Célidée’s:

Dans ce peu de succès des ruses de Florice
J’ai manqué de bonheur, mais non pas de malice,
Et si j’en puis jamais trouver l’occasion,
J’y mettrai bien encor de la division ;
Si notre pauvre amant [Lysandre] est plein de jalousie,
Ma rivale [Célidée] qui sort n’en est pas moins saisie. (IV.5.1289-1294)

18Furthermore, Hippolyte lies, explicitly and extensively to Célidée. When Célidée arrives on stage following the citation above, Hippolyte reports to her untruthfully: “Il ne tient pas à lui que je ne sois un Ange, / Et quand il vient après à parler de ses feux, / Aucune passion jamais n’approcha d’eux” (IV.6.1302-1304). Hippolyte also lies to Pleirante, insisting that her mother had not broached with her the possibility of a marriage to Dorimant (IV.7.1355-1356). Hippolyte’s success as a screen for Célidée is clear in the comments of certain scholars. For example, while criticizing Célidée for her infidelity, Abraham adds: “La conduite d’Hippolyte est encore plus déplorable” (“L’Envers” 35416).

19Célidée herself hides behind several screens, but her agency in their construction is rarely clear, in contrast to Hippolyte’s transparent efforts. Unlike Hippolyte, Célidée does not engage in scheming. Her guilelessness itself provides a screen for her17. Her offenses of change and desire are often hidden behind uncertainty and confusion. Left alone on stage after Hippolyte has convinced her to test Lysandre’s love by seeming to reject him, she is completely divided in what will become a classically Cornelian fashion: “Quel étrange combat ! je meurs de le quitter, / Et mon reste d’amour ne le peut maltraiter” (II.5.571-572); “Mon âme veut, et n’ose, et bien que refroidie, / N’aura trait de mépris, si je ne l’étudie” (II.5.577-578). Célimène’s confusion of sentiment extends to Dorimant later in the play. As she suffers the humiliation of Lysandre’s apparent change to Hippolyte, Célidée claims in her stances to no longer feel any attraction to Dorimant (“Autant que j’eus de peine à l’ [her flamme for Dorimant] éteindre en naissant / Autant m’en faudra-t-il à la faire renaître,” III.10.1019-1020), that is, until she espies Dorimant himself and abruptly takes the opposite position: “Je sens bien que déjà devers lui tu [her heart] t’envoles” (III.10.1029). Her confusion obscures the danger that a woman capable of change and desire poses, leading one to believe, as Garapon puts it, that Célidée “n’est pas changeante par vanité ou coquetterie, mais elle ne sait pas trop qui elle aime” (146).

20Easily persuaded by Hippolyte, Célidée plays the role of the cruel lover with Lysandre, claiming to no longer love him (II.6). In so doing, she explicitly seeks to make him responsible for breaking off with her, and thus sparing herself the onus of shameful change. She seeks to use him as a screen for her own change. But Célidée’s confusion returns almost immediately once she has performed indifference for Lysandre’s benefit. She is so surprised by his attitude of submission, devotion, and unconditional love, that she completely reverses her position:

Aussi ce grand amour a rallumé ma flamme,
Le change n’a plus rien qui chatouille mon âme,
Il n’a plus de douceurs pour mon esprit flottant,
Aussi ferme à présent qu’il le croit inconstant. (III.4.829-832)

21Is her offense diminished by its seemingly short duration? What does it mean for Célidée to be cast as nothing more than a flighty creature with, as she puts it, an “esprit flottant”? One finds an unsettling mixture in Célidée of seemingly sincere confusion about her true feelings and deliberate choices to screen her offenses from view. The first work to disculpate Célidée while the second point to responsibility. Both categories of screens have as their identical goal to obscure Célidée’s offenses.

22In the last act, however, her guileless fickleness takes on a more problematic cast, as Célidée plainly lies in order to hide her transgressions. In the reconciliation scene between her and Lysandre, she claims:

Les Dieux m’en sont témoins, et ce nouveau sujet
Que vos feux inconstants ont choisi pour objet [Hippolyte],
Si jamais j’eus pour vous de dédain véritable
Avant que votre amour parût si peu durable. (V.4.1623-1626)

23One might quibble about the meaning of the words “dédain véritable,” but longing to break off a relationship and enter into a different one would seem to suffice. Célidée goes to considerable lengths in this climactic scene to obscure her own responsibility and deflect it onto Lysandre. She focuses first on Lysandre’s infidelity. As he offers to kill himself, “Trop heureux mille fois, si je plais en mourant / À celle à qui j’ai pu déplaire en l’adorant” (V.4.1579-1580), Célidée calls him “volage” (V.4.1586), and says he must think he’s talking to Hippolyte. She then blames Lysandre for his precipitous change (“[…] fallait-il pour un peu de rudesse / Vous porter si soudain à changer de maîtresse ?” V.4.1617-1618) and goes on to attack his judgment: “Ne pouviez-vous juger que c’était une feinte ?” (V.4.1621)18. She even blames Lysandre for her own attraction to Dorimant, claiming falsely that it was a result of Lysandre’s interest in Hippolyte:

Votre légèreté fut soudain imitée,
Non pas que Dorimant m’en eût sollicitée,
Au contraire, il me fuit, et l’ingrat ne veut pas
Que sa franchise cède au peu que j’ai d’appas. (V.4.1633-1636)

24Note the use of the passive voice in the first line; the avoidance of the “je” is another sign of her refusal to take responsibility for her actions.

25As her final reconciliation with Lysandre is enacted, Célidée will go no further than to say: “Si nous avons failli de feindre l’un et l’autre, / Pardonnez à ma faute, j’oublierai la vôtre” (V.4.1641-1642). Célidée does admit to Lysandre: “Mon imprudence a fait notre division,” (V.4.1643-1644), but by neglecting to specify what the word “imprudence” covers, she lets herself off lightly. She admits play-acting the cruel lover, but neglects to take responsibility for her desire for another man. Célidée returns to this shared fault three scenes later, as she shields herself by placing the responsibility for her feinte on Hippolyte, and Lysandre’s fault, implicitly, on Aronte: “J’ai feint par ton [Hippolyte’s] conseil, lui [Lysandre] par celui d’un autre” (V.7.1757). The upshot is that Célidée assumes the role promised at the outset and that she had abandoned in favor of an inappropriate desire, that of comic heroine, set to be happily married to the “right” man.

26Corneille resolves the relationship between Célidée and Lysandre before dealing with the other conflicts that must be sorted out before arriving at the conclusion: those between Lysandre and Dorimant, Dorimant and Hippolyte, and Célidée and Hippolyte. The playwright creates a different kind of distraction from Célidée by means of Hippolyte and Dorimant’s curious path to union. In the scene following Célidée and Lysandre’s reconciliation, Hippolyte goes back and forth with Dorimant, first discouraging him (“Éteignez cette flamme,” V.5.1690), then admitting that she has feelings for another and that “Tant que ma passion aura quelque espérance / N’attendez rien de moi que de l’indifférence” (V.5.1709-1710). She then concedes that if she can’t have Lysandre, Dorimant will do: “Je chéris sa personne [Lysandre], et hais si peu la vôtre, / Qu’ayant perdu l’espoir de le voir mon époux, / Si ma mère y consent, Hippolyte est à vous” (V.5.1718-1720). Indeed, Dorimant holds her to this strangely worded eventuality when it becomes clear two scenes later that Lysandre and Célidée have been reunited: “Votre amour hors d’espoir fait qu’il me faut céder. / Vous savez trop à quoi la parole vous lie” (V.7.1772-1773). But Hippolyte’s ambivalence is enormous: “À vous dire le vrai, j’ai fait une folie” (V.7.1774), but the moment that Dorimant confronts her with “Après m’avoir promis, seriez-vous mensongère ? (V.7.1777) – which, of course, is precisely what Célidée did to Lysandre earlier – Hippolyte backs down: “Puisque je l’ai promis, vous pouvez voir ma mère” (V.7.1778). Ironically, Hippolyte’s mother, Chrysante, motivated by a desire to accord her daughter the freedom she herself did not have in choosing a husband, refuses to make the decision for her (V.8.1795-1800). Matters are pushed to a conclusion by Pleirante, without Hippolyte having anything further to say on the matter. The trajectory of the final few scenes that lead to this second union is so bumpy and, frankly, disturbing, that Célidée’s offenses are almost completely forgotten. The couple she forms with Lysandre seems idyllic in comparison to the one Hippolyte accedes to with Dorimant, particularly from Hippolyte’s perspective. By the time we get to the final scene, Célidée and Lysandre once again seem like the established and inevitable couple, much as they were at the beginning of the play.

27Thus is Célidée recuperated into the comic world of courtship, obstacle, and marriage. Hippolyte may be more active in her romantic machinations – employing a confidant and a squire as well as betraying her friend – but it is Célidée whose desire and openness to change constitute the primary obstacle to a happy union. The question remains why Corneille would organize his play in this fashion.

28One consideration is originality. Célidée’s complexity as a character and her centrality to the plot were innovative at the time. Couton recognizes that “le plus neuf est que pour la première fois Corneille organise une comédie autour d’un caractère, l’analyse, le nuance” (23; see also Carlin, 389). There is too the issue of gender. Célidée may be viewed as an early example of a dangerous woman in Corneille’s œuvre. The women in La Galerie du Palais are disturbing and far more pernicious than the men (see Verhoeff 67-68). Célidée’s desire for another man and her willingness to entertain change mark her as unpredictable and problematic. Hippolyte is dangerous as well, because she desires a man and betrays her friend, but she, unlike Célidée, is overtly punished, while also contained by her own aversion to change. Once she gives her word to Dorimant, we understand that it cannot be broken, and she will sadly have to marry him. Breaking her word to a man is precisely what Célidée is guilty of, and it is an offense of a different order than Hippolyte’s machinations.

29Most important, however, is the playful challenge Corneille seemingly set for himself: that of writing a comedy in which paradox reigns, in the form of a virtuous heroine who is anything but virtuous. Using obscuring screens allows the playwright to both reveal and hide Célidée’s transgressions and to move her off the pedestal of the pure jeune première, only to place her back upon it at the dénouement. Célidée’s carefully orchestrated recuperation at the end of the play is a subtle yet comic tour de force.

Works Cited

30Abraham, Claude, « L’Envers de la médaille : dialectique et parodie chez Corneille », PFSCL, XI, 21, 1984, p. 349-376.
Abraham, Claude, Pierre Corneille, New York, Twayne, 1972.
Carlin, Claire, “The Woman as Heavy: Female Villains in the Theater of Pierre Corneille” French Review 59, 1986, p. 389-398.
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