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145 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published November 21, 1670
Given the Emperor's decision, the play requires only one more scene: he need only send Bérénice off with Antiochus and it will all be over. It is hard to imagine how the subject can stretch to four more acts: there is no knot to untie, no obstacle to overcome, no intrigue. The Emperor is in command, he has made his decision: he wishes and indeed must wish that Bérénice should go. It is only in the inexhaustible feelings of the heart, in the passage from one movement to another, in the examination of the secret workings of the soul, that the author finds the material to complete his grand arch.So what makes it one of Racine's masterpieces? The verse, pure and simple, and the emotional states that it portrays. Racine wrote in Alexandrines: twelve-syllable lines rhymed in couplets. Compared to Shakespeare's unrhymed ten-syllable lines that can flow from one into the other and break almost anywhere, the Alexandrine has a much more obvious rhythmic structure, with slight lifts in the middle and ends of lines. Performed with the intent of relating it to ordinary speech, as it was at the Odéon, it tends to break down into six-syllable phrases, creating a somewhat jingly effect. But declaimed with a breadth commensurate with the extreme length of many of the speeches (some almost twice the length of Shakespeare's longest), those divisions become like the bar lines and periods in music: always there, but capable of being shaped with great subtlety. Racine's speeches are the equivalent of arias by Lully or, later, Rameau.
Madame, il faut vous faire un aveu véritable.[Madame, I must confess a difficult admission.
Lorsque j'envisageai le moment redoutable
Où, pressé par les lois d'un austère devoir,
Il fallait pour jamais renoncer à vous voir ;
Quand de ce triste adieu je prévis les approches,
Mes craintes, mes combats, vos larmes, vos reproches,
Je préparai mon âme à toutes les douleurs
Que peut faire sentir le plus grand des malheurs.
Mon cœur vous est connu, Seigneur, et je puis dire[You know my heart, Seigneur, and never has it sighed
Qu'on ne l'a jamais vu soupir pour l'Empire.
La grandeur des Romains, la pourpre des Césars
N'a point, vous le savez, attiré mes regards.
J'aimais, Seigneur, j'aimais : je voulais être aimée.
Titus, who passionately loved Berenice and who was widely thought to have promised to marry her, sent her from Rome, in spite of himself and in spite of herself, in the early days of his empire.