PFSCL XXXV, 69 (2008) Divine Right versus Divine Judgment in Two Early French Biblical Tragedies PERRY GETHNER As the French monarchy moved toward the absolutist model orchestrated by Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin and later by King Louis XIV, the doctrine of the divine right of kings became increasingly widespread among French writers, especially those eager for official recognition and royal patronage. 1 It is not surprising to find that some of the playwrights who felt little sympathy for that doctrine were also among the rare practitioners of Biblical tragedy in the seventeenth century. In order to highlight the limits of royal power, these writers focused on Saul and David, two kings who were selected by divinely-inspired prophets and who lived during the period in Israelite history when a transition was made from pure theocracy to religious-based monarchy. The fact that both rulers commit egregious sins, are denounced by God or a prophet, and are severely punished would suffice to keep them off the French stage for the rest of the century. But not only did both authors succeed in publishing these plays, Du Ryer’s Saül was in fact staged and it is likely that Montchrestien’s David was also. 2 That would suggest that the tragedies managed to strike a sufficient balance between orthodoxy and subversion to have made them palatable to troupes and audiences, and it is that balance that I would like to examine here. It is hard to pin down the political and religious beliefs of Antoine de Montchrestien, apparently a lukewarm Catholic who during the last year of 1 For a discussion of the political background that contributed to the formation of the divine right doctrine, see William F. Church, Richelieu and Reason of State (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1972); David Parker, The Making of French Absolutism (New York: St. Martin’s, 1983). 2 We know that his first tragedy, Sophonisbe, was performed by a student troupe, and that La Reine d’Ecosse was staged on several occasions by a professional company. There is no evidence that his other plays were also performed, but I think it likely that at least some of them were (and theatrical records from the period are notoriously spotty). Perry Gethner 470 his life became involved in a Protestant uprising. His six tragedies, of which two dramatize episodes from the Old Testament and a third treats the recent death of Mary Stuart as that of a saint, do not support or condemn any religious faction. Moreover, in none of his plays does he suggest that monarchy is a flawed system or endorse the principle of tyrannicide. However, whereas he presents the rulers in La Reine d’Ecosse and Aman as moral and conscientious monarchs who issue wicked decrees only because they are pressured by bad advisors, the protagonist of David ou l’adultère (1601; revised 1604) is a king whose immoral acts earn him stern retribution from the outraged Deity. As the title suggests, the play covers the twin sins of his adultery with Bathsheba and his arranging to have his beloved’s husband killed in battle so that he can marry her himself. Montchrestien presents the deliberations leading up to these sins as a conflict within David’s soul between his moral and religious principles on the one hand, and his lust for sex and power on the other. In his opening soliloquy he asks no fewer than six rhetorical questions beginning with the words “Suis-je ce grand David,” to remind himself of his past vigor in fighting violence and injustice. Unfortunately, he is only too willing to conclude that he has become another person, and a not very honorable one at that: “Je suis vrayment David mais mon cœur n’est plus tel,/ Que quand il aspiroit à l’honneur immortel” (I.55-56, text of 1604 version). 3 Montchrestien is thus suggesting that goodness constitutes the basic nature of kings, at least those who are monotheistic believers. In keeping with his practice in other tragedies, Montchrestien deflects some of the blame onto a bad advisor, Nadab, who is an invention of the playwright. Nadab, the go-between the king and his mistress, is only trying to be helpful, but he has no moral scruples and explicitly endorses the principles that might makes right and that the ends justify the means. David reacts with horror when Nadab proposes to have the troublesome husband assassinated and rejects the arguments that his confidant uses to justify committing what he acknowledges to be a crime: princes are above the law, they need follow only those laws that profit them, they need not worry that their misdeeds will serve as a bad example to their subjects, one crime does not constitute a pattern. David protests that the deliberate killing of innocent persons is the work not of a prince, but of a tyrant, and accepts the doctrine that the instigator of a killing is just as guilty as the actual killer. Although Montchrestien does not portray psychological struggle very 3 I use the modern edition of this tragedy by Lancaster Dabney (Austin, TX: University Cooperative Society, 1963), but I have modernized the use of the letters I and J, and U and V. Divine Right versus Divine Judgment in Two Early French Biblical Tragedies 471 convincingly, the fact that David fully understands the difference between right and wrong from the outset makes it more logical to expect him to repent sincerely at the end of the play. After ordering the killing of the husband, Urie, David forgets about God almost completely until the prophet Nathan arrives to deliver a message of divine denunciation, whereupon he improvises a psalm of contrition and is forgiven at once. Nathan also insists on God’s triple role in regard to the kings of His chosen people: source of their power, role model for just and merciful rule, judge and distributor of rewards and punishments. If David is allowed to keep his throne, it is only because he immediately humbles himself and accepts his place in the divinely decreed order. Although in one sense the king is above human law and accountable to no one but God, this play (and the Biblical passage on which it is based) shows God as not waiting patiently until the hereafter to issue condemnation of royal abuses. Significantly, the playwright places the most direct and general criticisms in the mouth of the chorus, which, in keeping with the moralizing tendency of humanist drama, delivers moral lessons connected with the main plot. 4 In this play, where its role is limited to commentator (it takes no part in the action), it condemns some of the drastic abuses that can be linked to royal power, notably kings’ ability to perform unjust actions with impunity, their lustful excesses, their fickleness both in bestowing favor on subordinates and in taking it away. God is symbolically located in a watchtower from where He can observe the doings of kings and administer punishments, which may be either external (overthrow or death) or internal (remorse). At the same time the chorus insists that David’s misbehavior is atypical of him: just as heretofore he has pursued only honor and the destruction of God’s enemies, so it is disgraceful for him to let himself be overcome by an unworthy passion. Thus, even though the play exposes in some detail the faults of bad kings, Montchrestien salvages the principle of divine right by insisting that royal misbehavior is abnormal and that God, who watches over kings, is capable of dealing with them without any need for human rebellion. Finally, in the preface to the 1601 edition Montchrestien is careful to downplay David’s status as king and to emphasize instead his exemplary status as a good Christian who, like all humans, is prone to sin and who therefore needs to repent and seek reconciliation with God. Indeed, the author never mentions in the course of that preface that David was a king, 4 As Richard Griffiths has noted, in comparing this author with other French Renaissance playwrights, “nobody had ever gone quite as far as Montchrestien in converting the chorus into a purveyor of general moral lessons.” The Dramatic Technique of Antoine de Montchrestien (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), 143. Perry Gethner 472 referring to him solely as a man and a sinner, as well as a model for both, though only at the point where he acknowledges his misdeeds and asks for forgiveness. The religious and non-political message is reinforced in one of the liminary poems written by the author’s friend, Brinon, in which the tragedy is lauded as an “école Crestienne” precisely because it teaches the vital lesson of repentance that is relevant for all humans; David’s royal status is mentioned only once, and in passing. By turning the focus in the liminary material away from David’s status as a sinful king, and by limiting both crime and punishment to his private life, Montchrestien deviates from the majority of humanist tragedies, which emphasized the impact of royal misbehavior on the state as a whole. 5 All the same, the religious lesson contains a potentially subversive political aspect: kings are in no way superior to ordinary humans, whether morally or spiritually. Pierre Du Ryer, the first significant writer of Biblical tragedies in the classical period, was also the least committed to the principle of divine right. Not surprisingly, he spent much of his career in the service of the Duc de Vendôme, a staunch adversary of Richelieu, and he would feature the overthrow of legitimate monarchs in four of his six tragedies. That is not to say that he was a radical subversive, for even in those tragedies Du Ryer never rejects the legitimacy of monarchical government as such and has words of praise for wise kings. Lancaster’s assessment remains sound: “Du Ryer’s attitude towards government is that of a constitutional monarchist. He desires a king only so long as he obeys the laws.” 6 Saül (1642) shows the divine retribution visited upon a king whose acts of disobedience against the divine will are denounced both by the ghost of the prophet Samuel and by the protagonist’s guilty conscience. Du Ryer gives as the primary reason for his loss of divine favor, not his decision to spare the Amalekite king (as in the Biblical account), which could be viewed as an act of mercy, but rather the sacrilegious murder of the priests of Nob who assisted David - a clear case of flagrant injustice and of royal encroachment on the rights of the religious establishment. But the punishment is justified not merely by acts committed prior to the start of the play. During his final day on earth (for Du Ryer follows the newly proclaimed unity of time) Saül commits a number of other acts unworthy of a king: he violates both divine law and his own edicts by consulting a necromancer; he refuses to recall the banished David, who in this version is 5 On Montchrestien’s transitional status within the evolution of French religious drama, see J. S. Street, French Sacred Drama from Bèze to Corneille (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1983), 110-13. 6 Henry Carrington Lancaster, Pierre Du Ryer Dramatist (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution, 1912), 154. Divine Right versus Divine Judgment in Two Early French Biblical Tragedies 473 completely innocent; he dissolves the marriage between David and his daughter Michol and gives her to his courtier, Phalti, despite Michol’s dislike of Phalti and her belief that marriage vows are binding until death; 7 he tells lies to his sons and advisors; and, when mortally wounded, he unlawfully orders his squire to kill him, before realizing that to avoid being captured by his enemies it would be best to die by his own hand. The ghost of Samuel actually calls him a tyrant (v. 1010), declaring that he has ruled so badly that God, by making him perish wretchedly, has designated him as a warning example to wicked kings. The prophet’s position in regard to divine right emphasizes the theological dimension: since it was God who bestowed power and riches on Saül, whom He raised from the dust, the king’s disobedience to God’s will must be viewed as rebellion and ingratitude. Moreover, Samuel insists that the punishment for wickedness and disrespect for divine law will not only be dire but also occur in this life. A genuinely tragic figure who falls in large part because of his obsessive jealousy of his rival David (who, although constantly mentioned, never appears in the play), Saül frequently displays paranoia, injustice, pettiness, and a fatalism that is at times close to despair. His irrational envy of his rival David is repeatedly described, by himself and others, as a demon that has taken over his mind. Within the course of the play this persecution of an impeccable hero is shown to be his most grievous offense. 8 Although genuinely pained by the sense that God has abandoned him, he eventually decides to anger Him once again by consulting the witch. Indeed, Saül cannot fail to have a problematic relationship to God since he believes that his royal status exempts him from both religious and moral law, and since he possesses little trust or faith. In fact, he is always ready to blame God for whatever goes wrong in his life. 9 7 The king’s power to arrange and dissolve marriages among his subjects was a matter of controversy in the seventeenth century, even within the absolutist camp. See James F. Gaines, Pierre Du Ryer and his Tragedies: From Envy to Liberation (Geneva: Droz, 1987), 119. 8 As Bénédicte Louvat-Molozay has noted, his mistreatment of David constitutes a triple sin: political (he persecutes a loyal servant to whom he owes some of his greatest triumphs), religious (he refuses to acknowledge that David is his divinely ordained successor), and familial (he harms his own family by banishing and trying to kill the husband of his daughter and the best friend of his favorite son). “Saül de Du Ryer: entre La Taille et la Bible, le double défi d’une tragédie biblique moderne,” Littératures classiques 42 (2001), 257-76, 269. 9 James Gaines, whose assessment of the title character is the most negative of any of the critics, argues that Saül relies on God solely to buttress his authority and “to reflect a preferred self-image invested with merit” (113). He also notes that in Du Perry Gethner 474 On the other hand, the king also has many admirable traits, such as courage, deep love for his children, skill as a military commander, and concern for his people’s welfare. Like David in Montchrestien’s play, Saül does at times acknowledge his faults and the rightness of divine justice, although he complains bitterly of the fact that his innocent sons are to be included in the punishment for his sins and that his dynasty is marked for extinction - a terrifying prospect for French audiences for whom the messy accession of Henri IV was still a recent memory. The punishment of the king’s sons, who have done nothing wrong, is justified by Samuel with the following reasoning: since Saül is so courageous that he can accept with equanimity the triple punishment of defeat in battle, loss of power and death, God has added a further punishment to strike him in his most vulnerable area, namely, his role as father. Du Ryer’s questioning of the divine right doctrine receives special emphasis in the wholly invented political subplot. No sooner have the king and his son Jonathas declared that their subjects’ loyalty constitutes a sign of continuing divine favor than word arrives that the inhabitants of Jerusalem are planning a rebellion. Abner, the general who brings this report, does not know the cause of the people’s dissatisfaction and blames it on their fickleness. However, in the next act Jonathas, who has been sent to investigate, reports that the citizens of the capital have not actually revolted and feels that their grievance, namely, the desire to recall the banished David, is legitimate. Saül, far from mollified by this news, denounces his subjects for their ingratitude and disrespect for authority. He even declares that he has ruled too humanely and that the common people need to be repressed in order to stay in line. His unwillingness to listen to the people’s views and his defense of oppression suggest a penchant toward tyranny. In any case, the revolt never takes place and the people are never punished. 10 Jonathas, the most frequent debating partner of Saül and the spokesman for political moderation, represents either Du Ryer’s personal views or else Ryer, unlike Corneille, kings do not receive a special divine grace upon accession (117). Like Gaines, I am not convinced by Lancaster’s claim that Saül is truly repentant throughout the play, though he clearly displays a guilty conscience. 10 Maria Miller, in the introduction to her critical edition of Saül, may well be right in suggesting that Du Ryer derived the idea for the rebellion subplot from Claude Billard’s tragedy of the same name from 1610 (Toulouse: Société de Littératures Classiques, 1996, xxv-xxvi). However, the influence should not be overstated. Whereas the earlier playwright makes Saül an immoral and tyrannical ruler against whom rebellion seems legitimate, Du Ryer makes his protagonist a more competent and conscientious ruler and endows him with some positive moral and personal traits. Divine Right versus Divine Judgment in Two Early French Biblical Tragedies 475 the type of compromise position that he felt he needed to include in order to get the tragedy published and performed. The young prince is a resolute optimist, convinced that God has not withdrawn His protection of king and people, that the subjects are still loyal, and that victory over the Philistines is possible. He declares that in times of crisis there is nothing dishonorable in seeking outside assistance and that there is no such thing as too much security when one prepares for war. He also gives theological reasons for distrusting necromancers and urges absolute resignation to the will of God, rather than trying to determine in advance what the future will bring. When the enemy approaches, Jonathas urges his father to save himself, since the king’s survival is indispensable to the realm, while also insisting that to prevent himself and his brothers from participating in the battle would dishonor them and demoralize the troops. By making the heir to the throne behave impeccably and argue so eloquently for a position combining moral, political and religious orthodoxy, Du Ryer is suggesting that good kings can really exist. Several other aspects of the play also reinforce the orthodox position on divine right. David, who never appears, is presented by the ghost as a model hero and future model king; Samuel even calls him “l’amour éternel de la terre et des Cieux” (v. 1004). In an act of generosity not found in the Biblical account, Saül, having resigned himself to the prophecy that he and his sons will die in battle, retracts his decision to forcibly remarry his daughter, gives his blessing to David, and hopes that the marriage between David and Michol will in part perpetuate his own dynasty. By prefacing this speech with the statement, “Tout ce que veut le Ciel est juste et légitime” (v. 1218), he in large part redeems himself. Since no one but God is allowed to punish the king or even display open disloyalty to him, and since the king acknowledges his place in the divine order and maintains his heroic stature, one could argue that the divine right doctrine, despite the challenges, remains intact. Ultimately, any author who uses Biblical doctrines and examples to question the authority of kings is faced with a paradox. Given the principle that God is the true sovereign and the role model for proper government, human rulers are subject to both moral law, as codified in Scripture, and to at least some degree of ecclesiastical control. In other words, there are significant checks on royal authority, and absolutism is not really absolute. Even Bossuet, in what is perhaps the most systematic attempt to reconcile the Bible with the divine right doctrine, does not skip over the numerous bad kings of the Old Testament but treats them as cautionary examples. In his view, however, any ruler who remembers that God is watching him is unlikely to fall into sinful ways. And Bossuet provides repeated warnings, Perry Gethner 476 such as the following: “Leur puissance venant d’en haut, [...] ils ne doivent pas croire qu’ils en soient les maîtres pour en user à leur gré ; mais ils doivent s’en servir avec crainte et retenue, comme d’une chose qui leur vient de Dieu, et dont Dieu leur demandera compte.” 11 But despite (or because of) these warnings, he thinks it both possible and normal for upright and pious Christian kings to exercise their divinely-given power properly. Thus, in one crucial area playwrights like Montchrestien and Du Ryer would be in full agreement with Bossuet: they all felt it necessary to juxtapose examples of good and bad kings in order to emphasize the need to balance rights and responsibilities, with special emphasis on the latter. It may seem obvious to point out that there can be no divine right without acknowledgment of the divine, and thus absolutism cannot be equated with lawlessness or godlessness, but few playwrights would dare to proclaim this openly without the cover of a Biblical context. 11 Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet, Politique tirée des propres paroles de l’Ecriture sainte, ed. Jacques Le Brun (Geneva: Droz, 1967), 70 [section III.2.4]. His arguing for orthodox views is hardly surprising, since this work was originally intended for the use of the Dauphin, whom he served as preceptor.