SOURCE: Hamilton, James F. “Mimetic Desire in Musset's Lorenzaccio.” Kentucky Romance Quarterly 32, no. 4 (1985): 347-57.

[In the following essay, Hamilton elucidates patterns of imitative desire in Musset's Lorenzaccio, linking these structural elements with the drama's themes of disillusionment, futility, and sexual ambivalence, as well as with character motivation in the work.]

“Pour comprendre l'exaltation fiévreuse qui a enfanté en moi le Lorenzo qui te parle, il faudrait que mon cerveau et mes entrailles fussent à nu sous un scalpel.”

(III, 3)¹

In the above passage, the hero challenges us to probe the motives of his obsessive desire. Lorenzo de Médicis dedicates his life to the accomplishment of one feat, the murder of his cousin and constant companion, Alexandre, the Duke of Florence. Musset's insistence upon the sexual exploits of the Medici scions and the underlying tension of their sibling rivalry pushes the text beyond a historical accuracy assured by his travels to Italy and research in Renaissance chronicles. The Lorenzo portrayed by Musset is inspired by a madness akin to the creative impulse of the poet and artist. Lacking ideological conviction, he is not taken seriously as a political assassin.² He represents a type of Romantic hero and embodies an aesthetics of action.³ His denial of convention points not only to a search for identity but to a quest for immortality.⁴ However, the contradiction between his “exaltation” and his degenerate conduct invites a psychological analysis; he seems to be driven by an inferiority complex.⁵ These insights need to be integrated within a comprehensive theoretical model, one characterized by a broad understanding of myth. From this perspective, the insatiable pride of the Medicis puts them on a par with the ancient Greek house of Atreus.⁶ Similarly, the city of Florence is cast as a fallen woman like the decadent Athens, the corrupt Rome, and the whore of Babylon as cited in Revelations.

From every angle—historical, psychological, and mythical—the city of Florence constitutes the focus of attention. For example, Emperor Charles V and the Pope intervene militarily and politically in the affairs of Florence, while King Francis I seeks eagerly to find a pretext to do so. The city is viewed as a prize, an object of desire, which is alternately loved and hated by those who compete for its possession. Fallen from its liberty as a republic and bearing a feminine name, Florence embodies the contrary symbolism of mother and harlot. This contradiction imposes an extreme tension upon the psyche of Lorenzo, the originally pure and idealistic student of Florence as a model republic.

The images of republican Florence and his mother, Marie Soderini, merge in Lorenzo's mind. As a child, he absorbs maternal affection and partisan ideology in the same embrace. This subtle indoctrination is confessed by Marie to her younger sister: “Et cette admiration pour les grands hommes de son Plutarque! Catherine, Catherine, que de fois je l'ai baisé au front en pensant au père de la patrie” (III, 3). The associated images of mother and city are reciprocal; Marie imagines the accusatory cries of citizens betrayed by Lorenzo: “Tu es la mère de nos malheurs!” (I, 6). A few lines later, the parting curses of exiles reinforce the overlapping identities of Marie, Florence, and mother: “Adieu Florence, peste de l'Italie! Adieu mère stérile, qui n'a plus de lait pour tes enfants!” Sterility in a mother betokens the lack of love for a child. This is the drama of Marie, who identifies herself as a mother but rejects her son. Only an alienated mother can see her son objectively as being ugly, and she dreams of him with revulsion, “dans les bras d'un spectre hideux.” In contrast, Catherine rationalizes the cowardice of Lorenzo; she blames Florence for his excesses and defends his essential goodness: “Je me dis malgré moi que tout n'est pas mort en lui.”

Without attempting to draw a strict cause/effect relationship between a mother's feelings and a son's behavior, several rather obvious points can be made. First of all, the images of city, mother, and aunt fuse within the mind of Lorenzo. When republicans disregard Lorenzo's nocturnal announcement of his impending assassination of the Duke, he cries out in despair: “Pauvre Florence! pauvre Florence!” (IV, 7). Shortly afterwards, he uses similar language in a reflection that links mother and aunt: “—Pauvre Catherine! Que ma mère mourût de tout cela, ce serait triste” (IV, 9). Contrary to historical fact, Lorenzo receives notice of Marie's death after the failure of his assassination. More important but less easy to prove, the images of Florence, mother, and aunt generalize to all women within a Madonna/prostitute syndrome. His prevailing scorn of women is challenged by Catherine. In reply, he makes only two exceptions to his misanthropy, Catherine and Marie: “Je vous estime, vous et elle. Hors de là, le monde me fait horreur” (II, 4). Hence, from the standpoint of structure, Florence heads the triangular conflict in Lorenzaccio and is accompanied at its apex by a number of female surrogates.

The base angles of the triangle are occupied by Lorenzo and Alexandre. In a conventional plot, the two cousins would compete for the attention and favor of a beloved situated graphically in the projection of their desires at the apex of the “eternal” triangle. In fact, a number of conditions place Lorenzo and Alexandre de Médicis in positions of mutual envy, resentment, and admiration. First, the Duke also suffers from a sense of inferiority, as is shown in the duel scene.⁷ When Lorenzo faints or pretends to faint at the sight of a naked sword blade, the sibling rivalry and latent antagonism explode on the part of Alexandre: “Fi donc! tu fais honte au nom de Médicis. Je ne suis qu'un bâtard, et je le porterais mieux que toi, qui es légitime” (I, 4). Lacking the refinement, education, and imagination of his more noble-minded cousin, Alexandre emphasizes his masculine superiority. He delights in humiliating his effeminate cousin, “une femelette,” and calls attention to “ce petit corps maigre,” “ces mains fluettes et maladives,” etc. Despite such disparaging remarks (provoked partly by jealous courtiers), Alexandre takes a protective stance toward his cousin and shows more loyal affection to him than to any of his mistresses: “J'aime Lorenzo, moi, et, par la mort de Dieu! il restera ici.”

The rivalry of Lorenzo and Alexandre does not function according to literary convention, for they are locked in a degrading relationship. Its dynamic of repulsion and attraction constitutes a “mimetic rivalry” which goes to the heart of much human behavior. Basically, the theory of “mimetic rivalry” holds that others' desires teach us what we want. However, the imitative character of desire takes a deviated form in Lorenzaccio. Rather than considering Alexandre as an obstacle to the attainment of a prize, a woman, or a mutual ambition, Lorenzo becomes dependent on him. Lorenzo needs the brute desire of his cousin in order to legitimize and sustain his own desire.⁸ For instance, Lorenzo portrays himself as enjoying the women cast aside by Alexandre, “les restes de ses orgies,” most of whom he was in the habit of procuring (III, 3). At the same time, he is troubled by the ghost of his pure youth and filled with self-hatred. The destabilizing aspect of this kind of mimetic triangle results from its ambivalence. Desire transfers from the object to its obstacle but is capable of returning to its original orientation. In the case of Lorenzo, he idealizes Florence, is enthralled by the uninhibited sensuality of Alexandre, and intends always to return to the “woman” of his youth. This love of a reflection from a rival feeds upon itself with overtones of a homosexuality permeated with masochism and guilt.⁹

The situation becomes clear if one visualizes a triangle with the object, Florence, at its apex (A) and the rivals, Lorenzo and Alexandre, at its base angles (ABC and ACB). The projection of Lorenzo's desire through Alexandre to the idealized Florence (from B to C to A) becomes dormant. The horizontal plane at the base of the triangle (BC) intensifies to carry the action in reflected images of mutual admiration and disgust. Unlike the traditional love triangle, desire is blocked and turns inward. It becomes incapable of striving upward to attain the ideal in an ennobling quest.

The mimetic triangle in Lorenzaccio, with its distinguishing character of sexual ambivalence, takes form in the opening scene of abduction. With Lorenzo and a squire, Alexandre awaits the departure of a maiden from a Florentine home. The darkness of midnight hides corrupt actions which harbor even darker motives in an ambiance of evil. Their shadowy figures mask an ignoble conduct which situates them outside of the law and society. Through the mediation of Lorenzo, the Duke reaches back into time to practice the ancient right of a ruler, “le droit du seigneur,” to deflower virgins in his kingdom (III, 3). To be sure, this primordial ritual of fertility has political significance in Renaissance Florence. Alexandre rules the city through force, and the phallus complements the sword to humiliate and to undermine the morale of noble republican families that resist. So, too, seduction as the preference for wealth and pleasure over principle is shown to characterize bourgeois society in the persons of merchants who profit from the Duke's profligate expenditures. More importantly, the opening scene serves to illuminate the peculiar relationship of Lorenzo and Alexandre which is central to the conflict in Lorenzaccio.

The triangle of Alexandre, Lorenzo, and the maiden incorporates sexuality, violence, and the metaphysical. These levels of meaning are felt by the maiden's brother, Maffio, who confuses reality and illusion when waking from a dream to surprise the abductors. After being disarmed, he refers to “des lois à Florence” and “ce qu'il y a de sacré au monde” but finds a culprit in the person of Alexandre rather than a defender (I, 2). A more basic confusion of roles occurs between Alexandre and Lorenzo. Little passion is shown by the Duke; his preoccupation with the cold night air and matter-of-fact remark about another social commitment give the impression of performing a princely duty out of habit. His amorous motivation depends upon Lorenzo, who depicts in a long speech the exquisite sensual delight and domination awaiting the Duke in his despoiling of a fifteen-year-old girl. He promises a total possession of body and mind through “le filon mystérieux du vice,” and he demeans her as a sexual object with images such as trésor, chatte, fruits plus rares, exquise odeur. Verbs of force and penetration convey a vicious violence. The interplay of Lorenzo and Alexandre points to a mimetic mechanism: Lorenzo uses the maiden to excite the Duke, to satisfy his own sexual needs, and to control the behavior of his male superior.

The apex of the mimetic triangle can now be defined with greater comprehension. It represents Florence as an absolute ideal whose profane embodiment, within the rivalry of Lorenzo and Alexandre, includes the maiden in the opening abduction scene as well as Marie and Catherine. So, also, the base angles of the triangle can now be defined vis-à-vis the secondary plots in Lorenzaccio. The relationship of Lorenzo with Alexandre as a mimetic rival on plane BC of the triangle degenerates into lust, and it is mirrored on two parallel tiers by competing rivalries. If the sides of the mimetic triangle (AB and AC) are extended for greater complexity, the triangular relationship of Tebaldeo, Alexandre as hero, and Florence (B′C′A) takes shape. Its plane of B'C’ operates on the level of art. The third competing rivalry in the extended mimetic triangle includes the Marquise, Alexandre as hero, and Florence (B′′C′′A). Its plane of B′′C′′ represents love. Tebaldeo and the Marquise compete with Lorenzo in trying to reveal the republican essence of Florence through idealized images of Alexandre in oil color and in sweet whisperings of grandeur. Artist and mistress seek to immortalize an idealized Florence in the person of Alexandre. Their attempts to incarnate the ideal demonstrate the abstract level of motivation prevailing in the play, and, more importantly, the deviated character of Lorenzo's struggle.

Lorenzo experiences not only the suffering of a mistress in his feeling of self-betrayal but also the more abstract frustrations of an artist. His interrogation of Tebaldeo (the painter who is commissioned to do a portrait of Alexandre) matches the intensity of his heartfelt conversations with Philippe Strozzi. Certain similarities make the bright young men fellow spirits, but one major difference sets them worlds apart. Each has experienced a vision of the absolute which is referred to by Tebaldeo as “une extase sans égale” (II, 2) and as “l'exaltation fiévreuse” by Lorenzo (III, 3). Each has dedicated his youth to realizing a higher reality of transcendent values through what Tebaldeo describes poetically as “l'enthousiasme sacré” and “ce feu divin” (II, 2). Moreover, each is inspired by an ideal of Florence, which is called “ma mère” by Tebaldeo and “une catin” by the taunting Lorenzo.

The artist and the assassin part company on their vision of the absolute. Whereas descent symbolizes Lorenzo's vision of the sacred, images of ascent in rising organ music, hymns, incense, pale smoke, and perfume characterize Tebaldeo's view of art which serves “la gloire de l'artiste” and that of God (II, 2). Tebaldeo shows himself to be a man of the Renaissance by seeing evil within a humanist perspective (“les terres corrompues engendrent le blé céleste”), and he is able to reconcile his carnal nature with the quest for perfection: “Je suis artiste; j'aime ma mère et ma maîtresse” (II, 2). The psychoanalytic distinction between the creative artist and the compulsive neurotic applies here.¹⁰ By reconciling his conflicts through art, Tebaldeo magnifies his humanity. In contrast, Lorenzo appreciates only the evil in man and seeks through a highly ritualized conduct to elevate a deviation from the norm to the level of art. His dream, born out of despair rather than courage, lacks authenticity and necessarily takes a destructive direction.

The illusory aspect of Lorenzo's creative enterprise is dramatized by another idealist. The Marquise de Cibo seeks to rival the influence of Lorenzo by supplanting him in her role of ideological muse. She also experiences an ambivalence between political ideal and amorous means: “Est-ce que j'aime Alexandre? Non, je ne l'aime pas, non assurément. … Pourquoi y a-t-il dans tout cela un aimant, un charme inexplicable qui m'attire? Que tu es belle, Florence, mais que tu es triste!” (II, 4). Her appeals to the heroic imagination of Alexandre (“j'ai de l'ambition, non pas pour moi—mais pour toi! toi et ma chère Florence”) serve only to cool his ardor, and he abandons her for another woman, Catherine (III, 6). However, failure does not result in tragedy. The Marquise frees herself from an illusory ambition and a degrading role through an act of courage. She confesses everything to her husband in front of her temptor, the Cardinal. Thus, the Marquise reconciles symbolically the dual identity of Florence, mother and woman, when threatened by the loss of her freedom and soul.

The struggle between the flesh and the spirit experienced by the Marquise parallels that of Lorenzo but on a less exalted plane. A metaphysical thrust prevails in his desire from its inception in the Roman Coliseum. This very private moment during Lorenzo's student life in Rome holds the key to his personality transformation, and its confession is provoked by a political incident. The sons of Philippe Strozzi, patriarch of Florentine republicans and father figure to Lorenzo, are arrested. Paternal hysteria and cries of revenge imperil the hero's assassination plan and force him to reveal his secret motives.

The Coliseum scene narrated by Lorrenzo takes place in this emotional context, and his story has a dreamlike quality which further complicates analysis. Nevertheless, a few factual observations can be made. First, having no rational explanation for his experience, Lorenzo pictures himself in a trancelike state of mind: “une certaine nuit que j'étais assis dans les ruines du Colisée, je ne sais pourquoi je me levai; je tendis vers le ciel mes bras trempés de rosée, et je jurai qu'un des tyrans de la patrie mourrait de ma main … il m'est impossible de dire comment cet étrange serment s'est fait en moi” (III, 3; italics mine). Second, the inspiration takes place in a very special site of heroic grandeur, the Roman Coliseum. Third, a radical change in outlook occurs on the part of Lorenzo, who turns his back on the contemplative life of a scholar and the likelihood, as a Medici, of high office in the Church or the state. Finally, the upheaval is accompanied by a euphoria which Lorenzo likens to the exaltation of falling in love.

The turning point in Lorenzo's life, acted out in a highly symbolic fashion, points to the religious experience of revelation and conversion to a new view of the world. Through a combination of fortuitous circumstances and formative influences, Lorenzo transcends the profane worlds of society and nature to catch a privileged glimpse into the realm of absolute values which promise immortality. This metaphysical level of meaning authorizes the use of myth and ritual. From these interpretative vantage points, Lorenzo's momentary transcendence is facilitated by the Roman Coliseum, which acts as a cosmological point in the planes of time and space where heaven, earth, and hell converge, a “center of the sacred.”¹¹

Lorenzo undergoes the eternally repeated experience of the homo religiosus, an initiation into the sacred, whose various cultural configurations show certain consistent tendencies. Lorenzo's actions deviate from the general pattern of ritual only in their spontaneous occurrence outside of the communal safeguards of tribe, clan, family, or sex group. Traditionally, initiation into the secrets of the sacred takes place upon the reaching of manhood, and the ritual requires the separation of a young man from his mother. This induction into the warrior's group symbolizes the passage from the profane to the sacred worlds, which implies a death and a rebirth into a higher order of values. The ritualized initiation into manhood and its responsibilities is often followed by a physical trial designed to humiliate the flesh and fortify the spirit.¹²

Because the spiritual character of his adventure defies rational discourse, Lorenzo utilizes the language of metaphor. For example, he compares his vision to “une statue qui descendrait de son piédestal pour marcher parmi les hommes” (III, 3). Through this image (which is reaffirmed subsequently in Lorenzo's beheading of royal statues in the Constantine Arch), he defines himself vis-à-vis the gods and heroes of antiquity.¹³ The descent of the statue, comparable to that of Orpheus, is enacted by Lorenzo, who descends symbolically from purity into vice, a hell of his own making, in order to gain immortality.¹⁴ In a mimetic rivalry with the Duke (whose power as a ruler confers automatically the love/hate ambivalence of taboo), Lorenzo immerses himself in carnal pleasure. This perverted ritual of baptism continues his initiation into the sacred by humiliating the flesh through debauchery rather than denial. Political purpose is foresworn by Lorenzo (“Je ne voulais pas soulever les masses”), and he situates his struggle on the allegorical plane of individual combat with “la tyrannie vivante” (III, 3). The tension between his desire to be godlike and his debasing roles as procurer and court jester results in a psychopathological crisis of near madness which, as in the case of shaman priests, verifies mythically his supernatural election.¹⁵

Lorenzo is caught in “a double bind” between his exalted mission of gaining immortality in the persona of Florence and a blinding fascination for Alexandre.¹⁶ Metaphysically, he is trapped in the initiatory, apprentice stage of the sacred, unable to forget his vision and unable to reverse the effects of his trial by the flesh: “si je pouvais revenir à la vertu, si mon apprentissage du vice pouvait s'évanouir, j'épargnerais peut-être ce conducteur de boeufs. Mais j'aime le vin, le jeu et les filles; comprends-tu cela?” (III, 3). Theoretically, the ambivalence of Lorenzo could have persisted indefinitely. His mimetic rivalry with Alexandre tends to self-perpetuate through the reinforcing of images reflected between cousins. Lacking the Marquise de Cibo's courage and Tebaldeo's humanity, the ability of Lorenzo to break out of an impasse between the dual fascination of an object and its obstacle remains questionable. Paradoxically, the reciprocal character of mimetic rivalry triggers a crisis which, releasing Lorenzo from his ambivalence, allows him to pursue the sacred through an act of violence.

The interaction of Lorenzo and Alexandre undergoes a reversal which casts an ironic light on the ensuing tragedy. For the first time within the dramatized intrigue, Alexandre takes the initiative in a love affair without the help of Lorenzo or someone else such as the Cardinal. The reversal in procedure (as set in the opening abduction scene) is possible within a mimetic rivalry, but the Duke chooses an object of passion repugnant to Lorenzo. Because Lorenzo identifies Catherine with Marie, calling her “la sœur de ma mère,” he cannot reflect the lust of Alexandre (III, 3). To be sure, force of habit tempts Lorenzo to repeat his mimetic role as participant in seduction, but he cannot: “J'allais corrompre Catherine; je crois que je corromprais ma mère” (III, 3). His impotence reflects more than the taboo of incest prohibition, for Catherine's image is elevated to the region of pure ideals. She is pictured by Lorenzo as a mother figure nursing future generations, “une goutte de lait pur tombé du sein de Catherine, et qui aura nourri d'honnêtes enfants” (IV, 6). Hence, the ideal of Florence, the original object of his desire, regains its hold upon Lorenzo. The tension between his initiation into the sacred and his degrading friendship for Alexandre increases to the point of madness and can be released only in a ritual whose action bypasses the conscience to purge aggression through violence as in primitive times.¹⁷

During the rehearsal of Alexandre's assassination, Lorenzo attains a level of delirium capable of breaking through the civilized barrier of reason. His language transcends politics as he calls for a sacrificial murder which would include eating of human flesh: “Ouvre-lui les entrailles! Coupons-le par morceaux, et mangeons, mangeons!” (III, 1). References to blood, wedding, the sun, arid sterility, and baptism point to the unconscious reenactment of a primordial archetypal pattern of behavior. Pagan rituals required the periodic sacrifice of the king, the king's first son, and then a ram to assure continued fertility.¹⁸ A similar process of transferring evil to an individual or to a group, the scapegoat victim, reappears in the holocaust of modern times.¹⁹

Lorenzo's murder of the Duke is so immersed in symbolism that the form of his crime overshadows and explains the act itself. First, a complex reversal of sexual roles occurs. Lorenzo takes the place of Catherine, who is supposed to be seduced by the Duke. Pretending to play his habitual role of entremetteur, Lorenzo breaks out of his mimetic reflection to identify with Catherine and, indirectly, with Florence. Second, Alexandre is murdered in bed. Symbolically, justice demands that the beast be sacrificed on the altar where so many maidens had yielded their virtue in tribute to his power. The association of nuptials and blood (“jour de sang, jour de mes noces”) thus takes on a double meaning. Third, the sword thrust repeatedly into Alexandre assumes the ironic character of revenge against rule by military and sexual imposition. Fourth, Lorenzo experiences an exaltation of the senses and the spirit, a total release from the contingencies of time and place: “Que le vent du soir est doux et embaumé! comme les fleurs des prairies s'entr'ouvrent! O nature magnifique, ô éternel repos!” (IV, 11). In the solitude of grandeur, Lorenzo seeks to make known the sacred by spreading chaos. His metaphysical aim of destruction for the purpose of awakening mankind to the truth of his evil places Lorenzo closer to the Caligula of Camus than to Shakespeare's Hamlet.²⁰

Lorenzo's murder of the Duke fails politically as an assassination and metaphysically as a tragic sacrifice. The citizens of Florence and their foreign allies are not motivated to restore the republic. This failure can be explained mythically by the absence of a valid scapegoat ritual. In order to unite the community against a sacrificial victim, there must be a collective transfer of guilt and a violence carried out anonymously or in the name of widely spread beliefs.²¹ To the contrary, Lorenzo imbues the murder with the symbolic significance of his private world and his personal search for immortality. At most, the murder of Alexandre provokes a political crisis which entails the reenactment of the origins of society in a hypothetical primordial murder.²² Faced by the fearful prospect of open-ended violence, people opt for the reestablishment of order despite its injustice. Ironically, Lorenzo's murder by a mob carries overtones of scapegoat violence: “Ne voyez-vous pas tout ce monde? Le peuple s'est jeté sur lui. Dieu de miséricorde! on le pousse dans la lagune” (V, 6). The guilt of cowardice for not revolting is transferred to Lorenzo, whose death reestablishes public order.

The failure of Lorenzo is tied to the question of guilt for his death. Who is at fault? Lorenzo? Society? The gods? The bourgeoisie? From the standpoint of mimetic desire, Lorenzo is doomed to failure. Caught in the double fascination for an object and its obstacle, he cannot overcome pride to see his predicament. However, the success of the Marquise in regaining her freedom after degradation makes Lorenzo's status as a tragic hero problematic at best. He dies with his heroic pride apparently intact without understanding his failure and arrogantly defiant until the end. Hence, little catharsis is generated by his fall. Blame is shifted implicitly from a Romantic type of “innocent criminal” to an insensitive society wherein selfish merchants and corrupt politicians prevail in a “business as usual” manner. By identifying with the hero's moral superiority and the few university students who did revolt upon Alexandre's death, the reader is in his pride also left unchallenged and intact.

The Romantic myth of the “misunderstood genius” and his alienation from the ascending bourgeoisie of early nineteenth-century France would seem to blunt the attainment of tragic emotion in Lorenzaccio. Confronted by the materialistic values which denied the poet's mission, as dramatized in Vigny's Chatterton (1835), Romantics could illustrate national history or even play political roles like Lamartine, Balzac, Stendhal, and Hugo in order to defend their dignity. In contrast, Lorenzaccio epitomizes the dangers of a Romantic idealism which confused a personal microcosm and a political macrocosm in the preference for martyrdom over collective action. Lorenzo wrongly identified evil as being primarily a metaphysical question rather than one of actions, and the anonymity of his murder gives the lie to a Romantic's absolute value of differentiation.

The incapacitating disillusionment of Musset's generation is often termed “le mal du siècle.” As explained in the opening chapter to La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (1836), it arises from the collective despair of failure, that of the Napoleonic Empire and its foundation in the French Revolution. In a frantic attempt to fill the void of lost idealism and boredom, a generation of young men threw itself into libertinage, action without purpose, and materialistic ambition. Disbelief in politics, art, and human nature prevails in Musset's identification of evil as the only remaining source of inspiration: “Au lieu d'avoir l'enthousiasme du mal, nous n'eûmes que l'abnégation du bien; au lieu du désespoir, l'insensibilité.”²³ For a generation of Frenchmen, despair is embodied in a historical figure of Renaissance Italy to create not only the most complex hero in the Romantic Theatre of France but also a timeless character whose conflicts are played out in a mythic dimension. The dramatization in Lorenzaccio of ritualized violence with heavy sexual overtones strikes chords of universal meaning which yield profound insights into the troubled mind and the origins of motivation.²⁴

Notes

1. Musset, Oeuvres complètes, ed. Philippe Van Tieghem (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1963), p. 348. All references to Lorenzaccio are taken from this edition and are indicated by act and scene.

2. See Herbert S. Gochberg, Stage of Dreams (Genève: Droz, 1967), p. 171, who characterizes the murder as being “completely without political consequence”; David Sices, Theatre of Solitude (Hanover, New Hampshire: The University Press of New England, 1974), p. 134, who calls it “a pure act of revenge”; Naomi Schor, “La Pèrodie: Superposition dans Lorenzaccio,” Michigan Romance Studies, 2 (Winter 1981), 73-86, who theorizes as to an attempted literary parricide of Shakespeare.

3. See Anne Ubersfeld, “Le Portrait du peintre,” RSH, 42 (1977), 48.

4. See David Baguley, “Le Mythe de Glaucos: l'expression figurée dans Lorenzaccio de Musset,” RSH, 41 (1976), 259-69.

5. See Bernard Masson, Lorenzaccio ou la difficulté d'être (Paris: Minard, 1962), pp. 5-19. His psychological thesis is developed further in Musset et le théâtre intérieur (Paris: Minard, 1974) and Musset et son double: Lecture de Lorenzaccio (Paris: Minard, 1978).

6. The comparison is made by Lorenzo while questioning his motives for killing Alexandre: “Pourquoi cela? Le spectre de mon père me conduisait-il, comme Oreste, vers un nouvel Egisthe? M'avait-il offensé alors?” (III, 3).

7. In his application of Adler's concept of inferiority, Bernard Masson concentrates exclusively on Lorenzo.

8. See René Girard, “To Double Business Bound”: Essays on Literature, Mimesis, and Anthropology (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978), p. 67. While emphasizing Freud's failure to understand the mimetic mechanism, he states, “The subject needs the desire of his rival to sustain and legitimize his own desire.”

9. See René Girard, “To Double Business Bound,” whose theory on “the mimetic formation of ‘neurotic’ desire” holds that latent homosexuality and masochism denote a single phenomenon, the rival's predominance over the object and the fascination he exercises (p. 54). The implicit homosexuality in Lorenzaccio is verified by a discarded scene involving an audience given to Cellini by the Duke while in bed with Lorenzo. See Paul Dimoff, La Genèse de Lorenzaccio, reprint of 1936 edition (Paris: Société des textes français modernes, 1964), p. 169.

10. See Otto Rank, The Myth of the Birth of the Hero, ed. Philip Freund (New York: Vintage Books, 1936; rpt. 1964; translation of 1914 text in German), p. 273.

11. See Mircea Eliade, Images and Symbols (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1952), p. 75.

12. See Mircea Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, trans. from French (New York: Harper & Row, 1958), pp. 8-9, 96.

13. See David Baguley, “Le Mythe de Glaucos,” who compares Lorenzo to the son of Sisyphus who threw himself into the sea to prove his immortality.

14. See Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, p. 125, who asserts: “By assuming such risks of suggested perilous descents to Hell, the Hero pursues the conquest of immortality.”

15. See Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, pp. 90-101.

16. See René Girard, Des choses cachées depuis la fondation du monde (Paris: Grasset, 1978), p. 358.

17. For the origins of blood rituals, see James G. Frazer, The Golden Bough. A Study in Magic and Religion (New York: MacMillan, 1955), I, 329-41, and an opposing view in René Girard's La Violence et le Sacré (Paris: Grasset, 1972), pp. 36, 353, 396. For the origins of ritualized conduct, see the summary of research on the brain from an evolutionary perspective in Mary Long, “Ritual and Deceit,” Science Digest, Nov./Dec. 1980, pp. 87-91, 121. The reptilian part of the brain, the R-complex, controls the unthinking behavior of violence, ritual, and imitation.

18. See Frazer, p. 340.

19. René Girard, “To Double Business Bound,” pp. 226-28.

20. The connection is made by Catherine Muder Huebert, “The Quest for Evil: Lorenzaccio and Caligula,” Romance Notes, 18 (Fall 1977), 66-72.

21. René Girard, “To Double Business Bound,” pp. 226-28.

22. See Freud's hypothesis as to the slaying of God the Father as the original crime in The Complete Psychological Works (1917-1919), ed. James Strachey (London: Hogarth, 1955), 17:261. While Eliade sees the myth of the “murdered divinity” as the basis of ritual, Girard views the original act of violence as a historical reality. See Myth and Reality (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), p. 99 and “To Double Business Bound,” p. 208.

23. See Musset, La Confession d'un enfant du siècle, ed. M. Allem (Paris: Garnier, 1968), p. 16.

24. I should like to thank two colleagues, Professors Richard Grant of the University of Texas and Laurence Porter of the Michigan State University, for their close readings of this study.