Mircea Eliade and the Mythological Significations of the Theatre

In addition to his numerous writings in the field of the history and philosophy of religions, Mircea Eliade’s body of work includes an impressive number of novels, novellas, and short stories. Among these literary creations, there are even several plays that, in 1996, were compiled within the covers of a single volume titled Coloana Infinită (The Infinite Column). Edited by the most well-known Romanian exegete of Eliade, Mircea Handoca, the volume contains four works: Iphigenia, 1241, Oameni și pietre (People and Stones), and the play that gave the title to the volume, The Infinite Column. A fifth play, Aventură spirituală (Spiritual adventure), was only discovered, translated, and published in 2012 by Mac Linscott Ricketts.

The central idea expressed in all these dramatic plays is that stage art, through its specific qualities, may fulfill a function that aligns it with ancient myths and religious rituals. As in the case of the interpretations he proposed for fictional literary works, Eliade’s doctrine of theater brings us closer to the realm of the sacred–a value often ignored in modern art, when it is not systematically and programmatically denied.

In the context of a lecture delivered in 1969, Eliade explores the techniques practiced by Antonin Artaud and his team of actors in the play Don Carlos. His speculative insights are mentioned in a note within his substantial journal:

My comments regarding the phrase ‘Artaud wanted to write a theater that would put an end to theater.’ I speak to the students about the ‘concentrated time’ of the spectacle: how it transcends historical time (chronological present) and enters a different temporal rhythm. About ‘karma’ in theater: the actor who ‘purifies’ by embodying, existentially realizing so many human types, so many destinies.

When speaking about transcending “historical time” and entering a “different temporal rhythm,” Eliade is referring to the distinction between sacred time and profane time. Traditionally, the former is accessible in many ancient religions through the ritual during which the myth of the origins of the Cosmos and Man is recited. The Christian who participates in the Holy Mass also reenacts, by entering the liturgical time according to the church cyclical calendar, the crucial events in the life of our Savior, Jesus Christ. The latter is the one that characterizes our everyday existence, pressed by the needs of a mortal body and the context in which they are satisfied without any reference to the religious dimension.

The transition to a sacred dimension could be made, according to Eliade’s conception, through the appeal to imagination, which can help us envision our participation in a timeless context. For those moderns who do not participate in Christian sacred rituals, he thinks that theater (or even film) can provide opportunities to become aware of the existence of the sacred dimension–beyond history–of existence. At the same time, he transfers the cathartic and purifying functions of religious rituals onto it.

The same concept–that of theater understood as a “spiritual exercise”–is found in an interesting Eliade short story, Nineteen Roses. Here, we encounter some of Mircea Eliade’s favorite themes, such as the escape from time and the manifestation of the sacred through objects and profane acts. Such concerns demonstrate that, for the author of Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy (1951), literature involves the utilization and extension of a certain type of mythological creativity.

Through the main characters in Nineteen Roses—Ieronim Thănase, Eusebiu Damian, and Pandele—the mythological function of dramaturgy is extensively presented. The director, Ieronim, reveals the purpose of all arts, which is to “reveal the universal dimension, that is, the spiritual significance of any object, gesture, or occurrence, no matter how banal or ordinary they may be.” Seen from this angle, decoding the symbolic and religious meanings of historical events is the primary goal of dramatic representations.

Eliade is interested in theater due to the complexity and artistic types of creations it involves. It is as if several arts come together to form the broadest possible aesthetic experience. Through dance, pantomime, music, and performance, the audience is guided towards the ultimate meanings of existence. More than mere passive participation, the spectators are encouraged to assimilate the art of deciphering symbols, becoming participants in the knowledge that the director and actors have already acquired.

Like many “conservative” intellectuals of the 20th century, particularly during the two World Wars, Eliade is troubled by the visible spiritual decline of the modern, non-religious world. After all, we cannot overlook the experience of the two world wars and the short period between them. Some clues from his autobiographical writings suggest that Eliade did not rule out—at least in the 1950s-60s—the possibility of the onset of a potential third world war. His fear of belonging to a generation that could not bring to fruition any significant, lasting cultural work accompanied him constantly. Obsessed with what he called the “terror of history,” he seeks to cultivate a certain optimism by seeking new solutions for spiritual survival. For him, as Eugen Simion suggests, art has a revitalizing function:

Theater is a means of saving the individual; theater is the form through which myth is revealed, and, in the end, it makes existence bearable, defending humanity from terror by transforming obsessions and misfortune into a spectacle.

Knowing Eliade’s ideas about theater, it is reasonable to wonder about their origins. After reviewing numerous studies and essays dedicated to his literary creations, one answer that seems to point in the right direction comes from Liviu Petrescu:

Mircea Eliade exploits here (in Nineteen Roses) a suggestion that comes less from Gnosticism and more from medieval Indian folklore (the amnesia of the yogi Matsyendranath is cured, according to a popular legend also invoked by Mircea Eliade, through the dance of his disciple, Goraknath).

Hence the roots of his conception of theater must be sought in Indian folklore–a space in which Eliade directly engaged between 1928 and 1931 during his doctoral studies with the famous Indian scholar Surendranath Dasgupta. However, confirmation of Petrescu’s intuition came only in 1997, with the publication of a very rare editorial appearance about an Indian treatise on dramatic art, Nāṭya Śāstra, fully translated into Romanian by two remarkable scholars, Amita Bhose and Constantin Făgeţan. Although the extensive treatise is more of a practical guide for actors, it nevertheless contains within its pages a well-defined conception of the origin and functions of theater which is similar to the one professed by Eliade in Nineteen Roses.

From the very first chapter of the treatise dedicated to the origins of art, the divine genesis of drama is revealed. Entering an era of decadence called Treta-yuga, members of the lower castes (who did not have access to the deep meanings of the sacred scriptures) receive from the god Brahma a fifth Veda, called Natya:

It will lead to the fulfillment of duty, wealth, and fame, it will encompass good teachings and the collection of traditional knowledge, guiding descendants in their actions; it will be endowed with the wisdom of all scriptures and will be the source of all arts and crafts.

This is a revelation in the truest sense of the word, for “the theater was created by Brahma himself, the author of the entire creation.” The second chapter of the treatise, on the construction of the theater hall, delves deeper into the mythological and religious universe of Indian theater. Precise instructions are given about the offerings owed to various deities and the formulas to seek their protection.

Furthermore, before the start of each performance, there is an introductory segment known as “preliminaries on stage” (purva-ranga), where the cosmogonic myth of the gods’ battle with demons is reenacted, and the standard of the god Indra is raised as a sign of the triumph of good and the protection of the stage from evil spirits. In concrete terms, the theater is intertwined with myth, a reality expressed in a ritualistic manner that leads the audience to “a state of inner peace and bliss” similar to the state of a yogi in samādhi.

The final chapter of the work, showing the benefits gained by those who participate in performances, reminds us of the mystagogical function of Eliade’s dramaturgy:

A person who continually listens to this shāstra that has come forth from the mouth of Brahma and puts it into practice as it was spoken by the self-born One, or just reads and understands it, reaches the same goal as those who know the Vedas, those who perform sacrifices, and those who make pious donations.

These examples taken from Nāṭya Śāstra reveal striking similarities between the Hindu philosophy of theater and the one developed by Eliade in Nineteen Roses. Did he read the Indian treatise? It seems likely, considering that, during his time in India between 1928 and 1932, there were already two complete editions of the Sanskrit text—the first was edited in Bombay in 1894 by the pandits Sivadatta and Paraba, and the second was published in Benares in 1929 by Upadhyaya and Sarma— along with several partial editions. Unfortunately, I have not found any direct reference to this monumental work in Eliade’s oeuvre. But it is certain, both from Eliade’s testimony and from the studies of reputable Indologists like Sergiu Al-George and Liviu Bordaș, that the Romanian scholar had an extensive knowledge of Indian art and its doctrinal foundations.

Whether known directly to him through the study of an Indian treatise, or indirectly through the writings of the erudite philosopher Abhinavagupta (the author of one of the rare commentaries on Nāṭya Śāstra), Eliade’s assimilation of the “philosophy” of Indian theater is very likely. Beyond the potential influences that have shaped his thinking, Eliade’s insights have opened up interesting avenues of reflection on the role of the arts and aesthetics in general and on theater in particular. While the primary purpose of the arts is to give joy and rest for the soul, they can be “resacralized” by contributing to the acquisition of a metaphysical perspective that gives them a unique depth, able to attract an audience seeking more not just entertainment, but enlightenment.

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