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Moral universe of Alexandre Hardy's tragedies Panter, James 1970

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THE MORAL UNIVERSE OF ALEXANDRE HARDY'S TRAGEDIES by JAMES PANTER M.A., University of Nottingham, 1962 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY i n the Department of FRENCH We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA A p r i l , 1970 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s in p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the r equ i r emen t s f o r an advanced degree at the U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I ag ree tha t the L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . I f u r t h e r agree tha p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y pu rposes may be g r a n t e d by the Head o f my Department o r by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . It i s u n d e r s t o o d tha t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be a l l owed w i thou t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . Department o f /^Iz/YfH  The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h Co lumbia Vancouver 8, Canada ABSTRACT The o b j e c t o f t h e p r e s e n t s t u d y i s t o a n a l y s e and i n t e r p r e t Hardy's achievement i n the f i e l d o f t r a g e d y . C r i t i c s have g e n e r a l l y r e c o g n i s e d the importance of h i s v a s t output o f p l a y s i n the development o f F r e n c h drama i n the s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y , w h i l e d e n i g r a t i n g the l i t e r a r y m e r i t o f h i s works. The o n l y f u l l - s c a l e s t u d y o f t h i s d r a m a t i s t , R i g a l ' s A l e x a n d r e Hardy e t l e t h e a t r e f r a n c a i s a l a f i n du XVIe s i e c l e e t au commencement Q du X V I I e s i e c l e , i s devoted l a r g e l y t o a c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f h i s l i f e and o f t h e a t r i c a l c o n d i t i o n s a t t h i s t i m e , t o a comparison o f h i s p l a y s w i t h those o f h i s p r e c u r s o r s and f o l l o w e r s , and t o an e x a m i n a t i o n o f sour c e m a t e r i a l . The p r e s e n t s t u d y compares the p l a y s one w i t h a n o t h e r t o determine what f e a t u r e s they have i n common, a t t e m p t i n g t o a r r i v e t h e r e b y a t Hardy's c o n c e p t i o n o f the s t r u c t u r e and f u n c t i o n o f t r a g e d y . The t e x t f o l l o w e d i s t h a t o f S t e n g e l ' s r e - e d i t i o n . The p l a y s a r e a n a l y s e d under the headings o f p l o t and a c t i o n , theme, and c h a r a c t e r . The f i r s t c h a p t e r s t u d i e s Hardy's use o f st a g e s p e c t a c l e , p r e s e n t e d a c t i o n and r e p o r t e d a c t i o n , and shows t h a t , c o n t r a r y t o p o p u l a r m i s c o n c e p t i o n , he does n o t i n d u l g e i n g r a t u i t o u s o r e x c e s s i v e h o r r o r and v i o l e n c e on t h e s t a g e . R a t h e r he p r e s e n t s a s i t u a t i o n i n whi c h t h e t r a g i c " hero i s o f f e r e d a c h o i c e o f c o u r s e s o f a c t i o n , t h e outcome o f whi c h w i l l be f o r t u n a t e o r u n f o r t u n a t e a c c o r d i n g t o the cour s e chosen. The t y p i c a l p a t t e r n o f the a c t i o n o f a t r a g e d y by Hardy i s , t h e r e f o r e , a r i s i n g and f a l l i n g , o r f a l l i n g and r i s i n g motion about a c e n t r a l i i scene of c o n f l i c t . Sometimes t h i s p a t t e r n i s seen i n the l i f e o f a s i n g l e h e r o , sometimes the c o n t r a s t i n g f o r t u n e s o f two c h a r a c t e r s a r e p r e s e n t e d . I n the second c h a p t e r the m o r a l p r i n c i p l e s of the p r o t a -g o n i s t s a r e examined t o determine th e b a s i c theme of the t r a g e d i e s , w h i c h i s found t o be b r o a d l y p o l i t i c a l . Hardy p r e s e n t s a number of t y p e s of k i n g , r a n g i n g from the t y r a n t t o t h e p e r f e c t monarch, and r e n d e r s t h i s t r a d i t i o n a l i d e o l o g i c a l c o n t r a s t i n a s e r i e s o f d i s c u s s i o n s o f t h e problems of k i n g s h i p a r i s i n g from a p a r t i c u l a r d r a m a t i c s i t u a t i o n . J u s t i c e , clemency, the r u l e of law and s e r v i c e t o the s t a t e a r e the g u i d i n g p r i n c i p l e s o f t h e good k i n g . A second, and more o r i g i n a l a s p e c t of t h i s p o l i t i c a l theme, t h a t o f l e g i t i m a c y and the r i g h t o f conquest, i s found i n some of t h e t r a g e d i e s . The t h i r d c h a p t e r shows t h a t Hardy p r e s e n t s dynamic heroes who s t r i v e t o a t t a i n an i d e a l o f p e r s o n a l g l o i r e . Some heroes f a i l t o a r r i v e a t t h i s i d e a l because they succumb t o t h e i r p a s s i o n s a t a c r u c i a l moment; o t h e r s a c q u i r e p e r s o n a l f u l f i l m e n t o n l y t o become aware of a g r e a t e r sense of s e r v i c e t o o t h e r s . A m o r a l dilemma a r i s e s from th e c o n f l i c t between the i d e a l o f p e r s o n a l honour and t h a t o f the k i n g ' s d u t y t o the s t a t e . The l a t t e r i s a c h i e v e d o n l y by s e l f - a b n e g a t i o n , and one may e s t a b l i s h a h i e r a r c h y o f h e r o e s , r a n g i n g from Herode, i n whom s u b j e c t i o n t o the p a s s i o n s l e a d s t o d e s t r u c t i o n o f the p e r s o n a l i t y , t o C i r u s , the embodiment of s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y . I n the c o n c l u s i o n t o t h i s s tudy the m o r a l framework of Hardy's t r a g e d i e s i s shown t o l i e i n the s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y and w i l l to perfection of the hero who recognises only honour and ju s t i c e as immutable principles external to himself. I t i s a conception of tragedy which includes not only degradation and despair, but also optimism and the exaltation of the human s p i r i t . Plot summaries of Hardy's ten tragedies are given i n an appendix. i v TABLE OP.CONTENTS Page INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER ONE Dramatic Technique 22 CHAPTER TWO Theme: K i n g s h i p 60 CHAPTER THREE C h a r a c t e r : The H i e r a r c h y o f Heroes 112 CONCLUSION 151 BIBLIOGRAPHY 172 APPENDIX 181 INTRODUCTION The name of Alexandre Hardy i s known to every student of French drama i n the early seventeenth century. C r i t i c s usually refer to his p r o l i f i c output of tragedies, comedies, t r a g i -comedies and pastorals, the forms which, during the second h a l f of the sixteenth century and the f i r s t decades of the seventeenth, gradually established themselves as the major genres, and which were modelled on what the writers of the period understood to be the c l a s s i c a l forms of drama. The c r i t i c s speak of Hardy's dramatic sense, of his a b i l i t y to present spectacle on stage, and of his archaic language and awkward s t y l e . At this point they generally abandon consideration of his plays. Indeed, when one learns that Hardy "was without genius, taste, or style"" 1", 2 or that he was an "auteur tres fecond, mais i l l i s i b l e " , one i s i n c l i n e d not to read any further. Yet his nineteenth-century 3 editor, Stengel, saw i n him a dir e c t precursor of Corneille , S i r Paul Harvey and J . E. Hesseltine, eds., The Oxford  Companion to French Literature. (Oxford, 1959), p. 332. p Robert G-arapon, "Hardy." In: Dictionnaire des l e t t r e s  francaises: l e dix-septieme s i e c l e . pub. sous l a d i r e c t i o n du Cardinal Georges Grente. (Paris, 1954), p. 489. ^ "Unmittelbare VorlSufer"; see t i t l e page of Stengel's re-edition: Le Theatre d 1Alexandre Hardy. 5 vols. (Marburg, 1884). This i s the edition cited i n the following pages. In quoting from Hardy's plays, I s h a l l follow the example set by R i g a l of modernising and standardising the s p e l l i n g as f a r as th i s i s possible. The text of Stengel's re-edition reproduces the errors present i n the o r i g i n a l edition, and Rigal takes him to task for t h i s procedure. "C'est l a l e seul point sur lequel nous aurions envie de chicaner l e savant et consciencieux eMiteur. Pourquoi reproduire jusqu'aux fautes memes du texte 2 while Rigal, the most important c r i t i c of Hardy's work, claims that: "Hardy est l e point de depart unique de tout l e mouvement qui a s u i v i . Le theatre du moyen age e"tant oubli£, l a trag^die savante du XVIe s i e c l e ne 1'£tant guere moins, c'est de Hardy qu'ont paru p a r t i r l e s deux courants — classique et i r r d g u l i e r -entre lesquels a l l a i t se d i v i s e r l a l i t t ^ r a t u r e e dramatique. Certes, lui-meme est inexplicable pour qui ne connait pas l ' h i s t o i r e anteVieure de notre theatre; mais enfin lui-meme £tant donne, i l s u f f i t a en expliquer l ' h i s t o i r e post£rieure n^. Clearly, i f Hardy played such an important role i n the evolution of French drama as Stengel and Rigal imply, he should have received more c r i t i c a l attention than he has. In fact not one major study of Hardy's theatre has been published i n the l a s t eighty years. One possible explanation i s that Rigal's thesis i s s u f f i c i e n t l y d e f i n i t i v e as to discourage further examination de Hardy? Ce texte e s t - i l s i prdcieux? Et croit-on Hardy s i agre"able a l i r e qu'on puisse impunement soumettre a d ' i n u t i l e s ^preuves l e s curieux qui en entreprennent l a lecture?" ("Le theatre d'Alexandre Hardy. Corrections a l a reimpression Stengel et au texte o r i g i n a l , " Z e i t s c h r i f t fur franzdsische  Sprache und L i t e r a t u r 13 fl89l} , 204.) Hardy himself had some remarks to make on this subject. The f i r s t three volumes of hisilEMatage were published i n Paris by Jacques Quesnel, but he committed the preparation of the fourth volume to David du P e t i t Val i n Rouen, "vu que l e s prdcddents me font rougir de l a honte des imprimeurs, auxquels 1'avarice f i t t r a a i r ma reputation, etant s i pleins de fautes, tant a 1'orthographie qu'aux vers, que je voudrais de bon coeur effacer jlisques a l a memoire" CTheatre, IV, 4). ^ Eugene Rigal, Alexandre Hardy et l e theatre francais h l a  f i n du XVIe et au commencement du XVIIe s i e c l e " (Paris, 1889), p. 679. 3 of the plays of an admittedly minor dramatist. Modern theories of c r i t i c i s m advise us to beware, however, of the term d e f i n i t i v e , and indeed, when we consider the aim and scope of Rigal's study, we r e a l i s e that i t presents more a personal theory of the development of the French drama i n the early years of the seventeenth century and Hardy's place i n t h i s movement, than an examination of the plays themselves. To say that i s not i n any way to denigrate Rigal's work. It remains the essential study of Hardy's theatre, and has not been superseded. In an i n d i r e c t sense i t was .epoch-making, f o r i t was l a r g e l y i n an attempt to refute Rigal's exaggerated claims on Hardy's behalf that Lanson pursued his own research into the history of Renaissance and early seventeenth-century drama which enabled him to establish that Hardy was by no means trhs only active dramatist at t h i s period. In f a c t , Hardy "n'est pas c e l u i qui f a i t de l a trag^die un spectacle populaire. ... Hardy n'eut de ce cote" aucune i n i t i a t i v e a. prendre. II f i t , — plus brillamment, s i l'on veut, — ce que I*on f a i s a i t avant l u i " . It i s tempting to speculate that Lanson's ef f o r t s to counter Rigal's thesis led the great c r i t i c to formulate his own masterly Esquisse d'une h i s t o i r e de l a tragddie francaise (New York, 1920). Lancaster follows the same l i n e of approach c J Gustave Lanson, "Etudes sur l e s origines de l a trag^die classique en France. Comment s'est ope"ree l a substitution de l a tragedie aux mysteres et moralites," Revue d'Histoire  l i t t e r a i r e de l a France 10 (1903), 435. 4 when he suggests that "the French c l a s s i c a l tragedy might have developed as i t did, had Hardy never existed. ... The fact i s that Hardy's contribution to the evolution of tragedy was important, but i t i s a mistake to suppose that he was the only l i n k between the type of tragedy that flourished i n the sixteenth century and that which was produced by Corneille and his con-temporaries" . As for recent biographical studies, an examination of seventeenth-century archives, business agreements, b i l l s of sale, marriage contracts and the l i k e , has enabled Mme Deierkauf-Holsboer to write a "Vie d'Alexandre Hardy"; but i n truth her a r t i c l e t e l l s us more about the hardships of a p a r t i c u l a r troupe of actors and the material conditions of the French theatre at t h i s period than i t does about the career of the dramatist. Perhaps the most important conclusion to be drawn from her study i s that between 1612 and 1622 Hardy was absent from Paris, and that i t was during t h i s time that the genres which dramatists were tryi n g to establish (tragedy, comedy, tragi-comedy and pastoral) f i n a l l y found favour with audiences 7 i n the c a p i t a l , apparently without assistance from Hardy . c H. Carrington Lancaster, A History of French dramatic  l i t e r a t u r e i n the seventeenth century. 9 vols. (Baltimore and Paris, 1929-42), Part I, v o l . 1, p. 23. ^ S. Wllma Deierkauf-Holsboer, "Yie d'Alexandre Hardy, poete du r o i . Quarante-deux documents in d d i t s , " Proceedings of the  American Philosophical Society 91 (1947), 356. 5 It i s clear that the c r i t i c s referred to have been concerned more with the history of the French theatre i n the seventeenth century and with Hardy's place i n i t than with an examination of his plays themselves. Rigal does, admittedly, study the plays, and his analyses remain i n t e r e s t i n g to read and important. However, to the modern scholar they are unsatisfactory from two points of view. F i r s t , they tend to be too personal i n that Rigal stresses certain scenes or aspects of the plays (usually the pathetic or scabrous ones) while skimming over or even ignoring others which he does not fin d so moving or so morally shocking. Secondly, he uses a comparative approach i n evaluating Hardy's plays i n r e l a t i o n to his source material and to the work of the dramatists who preceded or followed him, and who treated the same subject. Thus he compares Hardy's Didon se  s a c r i f i a n t with Jodelle's dramatisation of the same subject, and Hardy's Mariamne with Tristan's play of the same name. This approach, at once comparative and h i s t o r i c a l , has led several c r i t i c s to consider aspects of Hardy's plays i n r e l a t i o n to those of other dramatists. As early as 1890, Jules B^raneck was comparing Hardy and Seneca, claiming that the La t i n dramatist provided Hardy with a source of dramatic situations and a model of dramatic techniques . There have as well been studies of Cervantes' influence on Hardy, of Hardy's influence on Corneille, Jules Beraneck, Sdneque et Hardy. (Leipzig, 1890). 6 of Hardy's place i n the development of pastoral drama and of the g tragi-comedy . The h i s t o r i c a l method employed by Rigal and the other c r i t i c s i s not, of course, without value, and a knowledge of the history of the development of French drama during t h i s period i s essential to any understanding and appreciation of Hardy's tragedies. Hardy, unlike the majority of his contemporary playwrights, was closely involved with the theatre over a period of more than t h i r t y years. Born about 1570"*"^ , he was presumably a native of Paris because he applies the epithet "Parisien" to himself on the t i t l e pages of the volumes of his published plays, and i t i s thought that he was the son of quite well-to-do and important bourgeois parents. His strong grasp of the c l a s s i c s i s probably evidence of a s o l i d education. He seems to have begun writing plays between 1590 and 1595, though why he chose to make a career of t h i s a c t i v i t y i s not clear. It i s certain that he acted i n as well as wrote plays, and that he became the poete | t gages of a troupe of actors led by Valleran l e Conte. This was i n 1598, so that Hardy may be call e d the f i r s t professional o These works are l i s t e d i n the bibliography. The b r i e f biographical sketch given here i s based on Mme Deierkauf-Holsboer's reconstruction of Hardy's l i f e , but we should note the amount of supposition compared with the small number of facts f o r which there i s documentary evidence. 7 playwright of the French theatre. Valleran l e Conte was the leader of one of the troupes errantes which toured France at t h i s time, there being no established theatre i n any of the major c i t i e s . He seems to have attempted twice to set up a permanent company i n Paris, f i r s t between 1598 and 1600, and again between 1606 and 1612; Hardy was presumably with the company i n the c a p i t a l during these periods. Fi n a n c i a l d i f f i c u l t i e s forced the troupe to take to the road again i n 1612, and i t seems to have been absent from Paris f o r ten years. During t h i s time Valleran l e Conte died, and Pierre l e Messier, d i t Bellerose, took over the leadership of the troupe. Alexandre Hardy continued, as poete a gages. to furnish the actors with plays. I t i s known that he was with the troupe i n Marseilles i n 1620; presumably he accompanied the actors when they returned to Paris, probably i n 1622. At this time the position of permanent playwright to a company of actors was at best precarious. He was paid a certain sum f o r each play he wrote, and the play then became the property of the troupe, the author having no further claim on i t . Thus i t happened that Hardy was involved i n complicated l e g a l wrangling with Bellerose when the dramatist decided he wanted to publish his plays. He f i n a l l y managed to persuade the actor-director to allow him to publish some of them, presumably those no longer i n the repertory, and he may have written others especially for publication. However that may be, i n 1623 appeared the cycle of eight tragi-comedies which make up Th^agene et Charicl^e. and between 1624 and 1628 the 8 f i v e volumes of his Theatre were published. The troupe of Bellerose l e f t Paris again i n 1626, and Hardy offered his services to the troupe of Claude Deschamps, sieur de V i l l i e r s , who i n 1627 accepted him as poete k gages, under contract to write s i x plays a year for six years. It i s possible that l e s Ramonneurs. a prose comedy preserved i n manuscript and published recently by Austin G i l l , i s one of the plays written by Hardy far V i l l i e r s ^ " 1 ' . The following year saw the exchange of polemics between Hardy and two young poets, Jean Auvray and Pierre du Ryer, which culminated i n the publication of Hardy's Berne des  deux rimeurs de l'Hdtel de Bourgogne. The old poet died, perhaps i n Paris, perhaps on tour with Deschamps' company, probably i n 1632. By his own account and according to the testimony of others, he wrote about s i x hundred plays during a career of some fo r t y years, an average of f i f t e e n plays a year. The published plays include tragedies, tragi-comedies and pastorals; i t seems extremely l i k e l y that he wrote comedies as well. Thus he contributed to a l l the recently established genres, but he seems not to have written any h i s t o i r e s saintes of the type of Boissin de Gallardon's Saint Vincent (1618), nor p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s pieces a these such as the Miroir de 1'Union belgique (1604) of Pierre Lancel and Claude B i l l a r d ' s Les Ramonneurs. com^die anonyme en prose. £d. Austin G i l l . (Paris, 1957). (See Introduction, pp. l v i i i - l x x x i x . ) 9 Henry l e Grand (1612). We s h a l l be concerned i n the following pages solely with Hardy's tragedies. The poet applied the term "tragedie" to twelve of his extant plays, namely Alerneon. Coriolan. Didon se  s a c r i f i a n t . Lucrece. Mariamne. Mel^agre, l a Mort d 1 A c h i l l e . l a  Mort d'Alexandre, l a Mort de Daire, Panth£e, Sce'dase and Timoclee. At f i r s t glance, i t would appear reasonable to accept his c l a s s i f i c a t i o n and study these twelve works. However, Hardy himself seems to have been i n doubt about how to c l a s s i f y some of his plays, the l i n e of demarcation between tragedy and t r a g i -comedy being qTiite vague i n h i s day. On the title-page, A r i s t o c l ^ e i s termed a tragi-comedy, while i n the "Argument" i t 12 13 i s c a l l e d a tragedy . The same i s true of Procris , and t h i s play, together with Alceste and Ariadne r a v i e . i s calle d a tragi-comedy on the title-page, while the running t i t l e i s tragedy. M. T. Herrick considers that these three plays follow 14 the pattern of tragedy with a happy ending , though i t i s d i f f i c u l t to see how Procris. which ends with the murder of the heroine and the attempted suicide of her husband, f i t s t h i s c r i t e r i o n . 1 2 Theatre. IV, 83. 1 3 Ihid.. I, 172. ^ Marvin T. Herrick, Tragicomedy: i t s o r i g i n and development i n I t a l y . France and England". (Urbana, 1955), p. 187. 10 In fact, one cannot distinguish between Hardy 1s tragedies and tragi-comedies on the basis of t h e i r denouement alone. Some tragedies have an ending which i s neither sanglant nor funeste. f o r example Timocl^e. while some tragi-comedies have a v i o l e n t ending, f o r example A r i s t o c l ^ e . Nor i s the rank of the p r i n c i p a l characters a decisive factor: the hero of Scedase belongs to the middle-class, while i n some tragi-comedies, f o r instance Phraarte and Alceste. kings and even gods are the central figures. A d i s t i n c t i o n on the grounds of source material seems more f r u i t f u l , and t h i s i s the basis of Rigal's c l a s s i f i c a t i o n of the plays. He divides them into four main categories. F i r s t the tragedies, which include a l l those c l a s s i f i e d as such by Hardy and which are taken from c l a s s i c a l sources. The playwright found his source material i n Plutarch (Scedase. Coriolan, the Alexandre t r i l o g y ) , Xenophon (Panth^e) and Josephus (Mariamne). Didon se s a c r i f i a n t i s of course based on V e r g i l , and l a Mort d'Achille on Dares and Dictys, though Rigal sees some influence from the mediaeval Roman de Trole or from a sixteenth-century adaptation of a mystere based on the roman. As f o r the Greek, as opposed to Trojan, bias i n his tragedy, Hardy may have gone to Mussato's A c h i l l e i d composed 15 i n L a t i n . I t i s clear that Hardy accepts the sources sanctioned by h i s sixteenth-century predecessors, and that these sources are b a s i c a l l y h i s t o r i c a l . On the other hand, the source f o r 1 5 R i g a l , Hardy, pp. 314-19. 11 Mel^agre i s Ovid; the subject i s thus mythological, as i s that of Alcme'on. The c r i t e r i o n of source used by Rigal excludes from the group of tragedies Lucrece. which i s based on a contemporary novel. Because t h e i r source i s a mythological account, Rigal would include Alceste. Procris and Ariadne ravie i n a second category of "pieces mythologiques", together with l e Ravissement  de Proserpine and l a G-igantomachie. He would divide his t h i r d category, tragi-comedies, into three sub-sections: those "en plusieurs journees": Thdagene et Charidee: tragi-comedies "de sujet antique": Arsacome. Aristoclee , Gdsippe and Phraarte; and tragi-comedies "de sujet moderne": a l l the rest, including Lucrece. His f i n a l category includes Hardy's f i v e pastoral plays. Rigal i s himself aware of the deficiency i n t h i s system of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n : "En resume, l ' o r i g i n e historique, mythologique ou romanesque des sujets, l e caractere heureux ou t r i s t e des denouements, t e l l e s semblent etre l e s deux principales marques d'apres lesquelles Hardy c l a s s a i t ses pieces; mais aucune des deux n'est decisive, et on ose a peine dire que leur reunion l e s o i t . Aussi l e s groupes entre lesquels Hardy a r ^ p a r t i ses oeuvres s o n t - i l s nettement d i s t i n c t s dans leur ensemble, mais certains d e t a i l s de l a r e p a r t i t i o n sont contestables, et quelques changements y pourraient etre apportes sans inconvenient. S i Hardy avait une th^orie des genres, e l l e £tait quelque peu vague et f l o t t a n t e " 1 6 R i g a l , Hardy, p. 227. 12 The main d i f f i c u l t y as regards the c l a s s i f i c a t i o n of Hardy's tragedies and tragi-comedies centres around Sc^dase. Alcm^on and Lucrece. and any solution that may be suggested i s bound to be to some extent a r b i t r a r y . Lancaster, aft e r b r i e f l y summarising the subjects of Hardy's tragedies taken from f a m i l i a r and f r e -quently used c l a s s i c a l sources, adds that "the other three tragedies deal with persons that are l e s s well known. Alcmdon recounts the t e r r i b l e vengeance of a wife f o r her husband's i n f i d e l i t y . She drives him mad, causes him to k i l l t h e i r children and to be k i l l e d by her brothers, who are i n turn s l a i n by him. Sce"dase i s equally brutal, a sort of trag^die bourgeoise derived from Plutarch's account of the rape and murder of two g i r l s by t h e i r father's guests, his vain e f f o r t s to get revenge, and his suicide. Lucrece has nothing to do with Livy's heroine or with any character so chaste. It i s a melodrama of unknown source, a sort of tragi-comedy of i n f i d e l i t y and revenge with an unhappy 17 ending" . Elsewhere Lancaster describes Lucrece as "a sort of Romantic tragedy of blood and revenge that reminds us of Dumas T O pere" . ^Similarly, Rigal considers that "Lucrece. qui porte l e nom de tragedie, n'est qu'un drame vulgaire et passablement 17 Lancaster, History. I, 1. pp. 47-48. Lancaster's e f f o r t s to be concise lead to obscurity i n his summary of Alcmeon. What happens i n the denouement i s that Alcmeon fig h t s with and k i l l s the brothers, but i s mortally wounded and dies as a r e s u l t . Ibid., I, 1,' .p. 64. 13 1 9 repugnant, traite" avee autant de cynisme que d'habilet£" . The same c r i t i c ' s observations about Alerneon are equally note-worthy i n t h i s context: " S ' i l n'est peut-etre pas, dans son theatre tragique, de piece dont l a lecture s o i t aussi rebutante, i l n'en est pas non plus qui montre aussi nettement ses proced^s, et l a curieuse position q u ' i l avait prise entre l e drame populaire 20 et l a tragddie savante" The terms used by Lancaster and Rigal to qualify these plays are s i g n i f i c a n t : they are "trag^die bourgeoise", "melodrama'1, "drame vulgaire" or "populaire". But these terms denoting a mixed genre were unknown to Hardy, and one can understand the problem of c l a s s i f y i n g a play such as Aristocl£e. which belongs to a mixed genre that i s not precisely t r a g i -comedy because i t has an unhappy ending. As we have seen, he shows a si m i l a r hesitancy i n the case of three of the plays c l a s s i f i e d by R i g a l as "pieces mythologiques". Procris i s as "repugnante" and "rebutante" as Lucrece or Alcm6on. and also deals with marital i n f i d e l i t y . Ariadne ravie i s again comparable i n t h i s respect, since i t treats the abandonment of Ariadne on the i s l e of Naxos and her rescue by and marriage to Bacchus. The ending of the play i s not merely happy, but f a r c i c a l , with Pan and Silenus acting the buffoon. On the other hand, Alceste. which i s c l a s s i f i e d by Hardy as a tragi-comedy, i s at least 1 9 Rigal, Hardy, p. 498. 20 Ibid., p. 395. 14 partly concerned with conjugal love and, as I s h a l l show i n the chapters which follow, i t s central theme i s serious, i t s protagonists noble i n sentiment and deed while, most important, the pattern of the action i s similar to that of Hardy's other tragedies. We have seen that Hardy himself had some d i f f i c u l t y i n distinguishing between plays he calle d ''tragedies'' and those he calle d "tragi-comedies". I t i s also clear that the c r i t e r i a f o r c l a s s i f y i n g his tragedies suggested by Hardy's commentators do not produce e n t i r e l y s a t i s f a c t o r y r e s u l t s either. The s o c i a l status of the protagonists or the happy or unhappy ending do not comprise d i s t i n c t i v e features. Rigal*s basic c r i t e r i o n of c l a s s i c a l source material excludes Lucrece from the l i s t of plays that Hardy calle d "tragedies". It i s noteworthy that the terms Rigal uses to describe Alcme'on imply that he found t h i s play comparable with Lucrece. Lancaster goes further and studies these two plays, together with Scedase. as a group apart from the other tragedies. Indeed, from the point of view of the sentiments expressed by the characters and the violent deeds presented on stage, they resemble more closely the tragedies of blood-and-horror of some of Hardy's contemporaries than they do plays such as Panthee. l a Mort d'Alexandre and l a Mort de Daire. or even Mariamne and Timociee. In these works, as i n the other tragedies, Hardy presents characters of royal lineage and of noble sentiments and deeds, while the themes are more serious than the violent sexual passion or adultery 15 which dominate Alcmeon, Lucrece and Scedase. I s h a l l adopt the position implied i n Lancaster's study and set these three plays apart from Hardy's other tragedies i n which the characters, themes and pattern of action are comparable from play to play. For t h i s reason, Alcmeon. Lucrece and Scedase w i l l not be included i n the chapters which follow. On the other hand, the c r i t e r i a I have suggested require that Alceste be considered among Hardy's tragedies. We may therefore establish as follows the l i s t of plays to be studied: Alceste. Coriolan, Didon se s a c r i f i a n t , Mariamne. Mel^agre, l a Mort d'Achille. l a Mort d'Alexandre, l a Mort de Daire. Panthee and Timoclee. These are the plays which w i l l be analysed i n the following pages 21 i n an attempt to discover Hardy's conception of tragedy Hardy's contribution to the development of the pastoral and the tragi-comedy has been discussed by Marsan and by Lan-22 caster . The importance of his contribution to the development of tragedy has been referred to frequently by c r i t i c s , but has not been analysed i n s u f f i c i e n t d e t a i l . Hardy's tragedies are not generally of the blood-and-horror type, such as l a Trag^die  mahommetiste or un More cruel (both anonymous), or the more 21 Summaries of the plots of these plays w i l l be found i n the appendix. 22 Jules Marsan, La Pastorale dramatique en France h. l a f i n du XVIe et au commencement du XVIIe s i e c l e . "TParis, 19057; H. Carrington Lancaster, The French Tragi-comedy. Its o r i g i n and  development from 1552 to 1628. (Baltimore, 190777" 16 sensational of the tragedies of a Claude B i l l a r d or a Chretien des Croix. Nor are they i n the style of a Gamier or a Montchr^tien, though they bear a much closer resemblance to th i s type of drama. As the c r i t i c s point out, Hardy's tragedies bring dramatic action and a sense of c r i s i s to what was the 23 s t a t i c and elegiac form of the Renaissance tragedy . A summary of the plots of Hardy's tragedies w i l l s u f f i c e to show that the intrigue i s more developed, more l i v e l y than i s usual i n sixteenth-century tragedy. I f t h i s were a l l Hardy accomplished, his place i n the history of the development of French tragedy would be assured, but i t would be a comparatively minor one, since we now know (taough Rigal did not) that Hardy was only one among a number of dramatists active at this time who were tryi n g to produce a more l i v e l y stage spectacle and plot. As Pierre-Aim^ Touchard reminds us, however, " i l ne faut pas ... confondre 1'intrigue et 1'action: 1'action, c'est l e mouvement general qui f a i t qu'entre l e debut et l a f i n de l a piece, quelque chose est ne, s'est developpe, est mort. L ' i n -trigue n'est que l e squelette de 1'action. E l l e peut etre des plus compliquees et 1'action demeurer n u l l e " ^ . 2 ^ Cf. for example Rigal, Hardy. p. 398; Deierkauf-Holsboer, "Vie d'Alexandre Hardy", p. 336; Lancaster, History. I, 1, pp. 64-65; Lanson, Esquisse. pp. 45-46. ^ Pierre-Aim^ Touchard, Dionysos; apologie pour l e theatre. (Paris, 1968), p. 79. 17 I t i s my intention to show that Hardy was not only aware of the need f o r spectacle, but also that he had a dramatic style of his own, i n the sense that he had a clear and coherent conception of the tragic action. I f c r i t i c s have been unable u n t i l now to understand his conception of tragedy, i t i s because they have persisted i n comparing Hardy's tragedies either with those of the Renaissance dramatists, or, more unjustly, with those of Corneille, Racine and other dramatists of the " c l a s s i c a l " theatre. I t i s perhaps inevitable that one should make such comparisons i f one adopts the h i s t o r i c a l approach to l i t e r a r y c r i t i c i s m . But few writers of t h i s period offer such a good opportunity as Hardy f o r the application of c r i t i c a l methods centred on a close reading of the text rather than on the dramatist's l i f e and times. As we have seen, very l i t t l e i s known about his career, while he has l e f t a substantial corpus of plays. Among the very few facts of which we are certain are the dates of publication of these plays, but we do not know the date of t h e i r composition. For a c r i t i c concerned with sources and influences, such a lack of information i s c r u c i a l and much speculation on the subject has been the r e s u l t . Rigal offers his opinion on t h i s question, as do Lancaster and Mme Deierkauf-25 Holsboer . The results of a l l t h i s e f f o r t are discouraging: the most that can be said i s that the majority of Hardy's 25 J Rigal, Hardy, pp. 73-82; Lancaster, History. I, 1, p. 4 5 ; Deierkauf-Holsboer, "Vie d'Alexandre Hardy", p. 379. 18 tragedies were probably written before 1610. This lack of knowledge about the dramatist's career and the dates of com-position of his plays becomes, however, a positive advantage when one applies the method of enquiry I intend to follow, f o r I s h a l l not be tempted to compare Hardy's tragedies any more than s t r i c t l y necessary with those of his predecessors and followers. I f Rigal's c r i t i c a l method i s that of the l i t e r a r y h i s t o r i a n , and consists i n taking a "horizontal" view of the plays, i n putting them i n the perspective of the history.of the French drama at the beginning of the seventeenth century, the method I s h a l l adopt, i n broad terms str u c t u r a l , may be called " v e r t i c a l " , f o r i t consists i n putting Hardy's tragedies one on top of the other, of comparing them on? with another, to see what features they have i n common. The c r i t e r i a f or the c l a s s i f i c a t i o n of Hardy's plays discussed above go back ultimately to action, character and thought, the three most important elements of the six constituent parts into which A r i s t o t l e divides tragedy (the other three being d i c t i o n , spectacle and melody), and the ones which he analyses i n most d e t a i l . Melody w i l l not concern us; i t i s unli k e l y that musical accompaniment was provided for Hardy 1s tragedies, and even i f i t were, i t would remain merely a 26 "pleasurable accessory of tragedy" rather than an indispensable A r i s t o t l e , On the Art of Poetry, trans. Ingram Bywater (Oxford, 1920), p. 39. 19 element. The problems presented by Hardy's d i c t i o n — vocabulary and syntax, l i t e r a r y s t y l e , and the construction of dialogue — cannot be disposed of so summarily, since the language c l e a r l y constitutes an i n t e g r a l part of the dramatic production. The play could not exist without the dialogue; but i t i s the means of r e a l i s a t i o n of the drama rather than part of the conception i t s e l f . The language and syntax of Hardy's tragedies w i l l not therefore occupy a place i n this study as a separate element of analysis. The other categories by which A r i s t o t l e analyses tragedy cannot be disposed of so b r i e f l y as that of melody or d i c t i o n . Spectacle, i t i s true, receives only passing mention i n A r i s t o t l e ' s t r e a t i s e , since he regards i t simply as an instrument of the dramatic imitation. In actual fact, spectacle i s not usually gratuitous, but i s a means of underlining the action; i t w i l l therefore be treated as a part of t h i s element of the drama. There remain, then, the three fundamental constituent elements: action, character and thought. A r i s t o t l e devotes the major part of his treat i s e to an examination of them, and they w i l l form the basis of my study of Hardy's tragedies. Of course, any d i v i s i o n of th i s material i s arbitrary, since the three elements are combined to constitute a single dramatic action. "Le spectacle et l e chant constituent ce que nous appelons l a mise en scene; 1'Elocution l e style l i t t e r a i r e . Pour ce qui est des t r o i s autres parties, i l semble qu'on puisse d i f f i c i l e m e n t l e s s^parer sans a r b i t r a i r e . Pable, caracteres et pens^e sont 20 l e s Elements indissolubles de 1'action. Le style d'une piece depend a t i t r e egal de 1'action, du style l i t t ^ r a i r e et de l a mise en scene^." While admitting, then, that a play i s an organic unity defying l o g i c a l analysis, we must s t i l l t r y to make such conceptual d i s t i n c t i o n s for the purposes of t h i s study. Accord-ingly, i n the f i r s t chapter I s h a l l attempt to show that there i s a general s t r u c t u r a l pattern that can be distinguished i n a l l the tragedies, that t h i s constituted f o r Hardy the tragic action, and that i t i s u n i f i e d i n the sense that a l l the incidents and episodes are focussed on a moment of decision for the hero. As has just been suggested, t h i s aspect of analysis must include a discussion of spectacle, the stage setting of the plays. More than a mere "accessory of tragedy", i t i s important insofar as t h e a t r i c a l decoration influenced the structure of the plays. Rigal has dealt f u l l y with t h i s aspect of Hardy's theatre, and his theory of the d^cor simultane -. supported by an impressive array of examples and documents, remains for the h i s t o r i a n of the theatre possibly the most valuable part of his work. In general, Hardy manipulates the effects of surprise and suspense with s k i l l , and his a b i l i t y to move his characters about the stage i s probably unequalled at t h i s period. I hope to show that these effects are not usually the r e s u l t of a desire simply to amuse the audience, but are subordinated to the 1 Touehard, Dionysos. p. 79. 21 exigencies of the action and intended to arouse certain emotions i n the spectators. These emotions w i l l be of the proper sort i f the tragic hero i s confronted with problems of s u f f i c i e n t seriousness and magnitude; i n the second chapter I s h a l l t r y to show that the hero's dilemma i s concerned with the p r a c t i c a l application of certain moral p r i n c i p l e s . These pri n c i p l e s are involved i n a single theme, or set of themes, which corresponds roughly to what A r i s t o t l e c a l l e d thought i n his analysis of tragedy. This central theme i s , i n Hardy's tragedies, p o l i t i c a l . Usually the question of the just rule or misrule of a monarch provides the central problem, though the public role of a warrior i s the point at issue i n some plays. In both cases, the hero i s expected to regulate h i s conduct according to certain fixed p r i n c i p l e s . Finally, I s h a l l examine the character of the tragic hero and show how he i s defined by his awareness of these pr i n c i p l e s and by his actions. We s h a l l see that Hardy establishes a s t r i c t gradation of heroes, and that his conception of the character of the tragic hero i s the single aspect of his plays which most c l e a r l y distinguishes them from those of his predecessors. I t i s t h i s element, i n fact, which l i n k s Hardy most d i r e c t l y to the conception of tragedy which was to be developed by dramatists l a t e r i n the seventeenth century. CHAPTER ONE DRAMATIC TECHNIQUE Rigal's general description of the dramatic action i n Hardy's plays remains b a s i c a l l y sound, provided his opinion of Hardy's innovatory role i n the development of French drama be viewed with caution: Hardy, toutes proportions gardees, procede d^ja comme Corneil l e : i l conserve l e s conventions anciennes, mais l e corps de sa tragddie est bien nouveau; sous l e s oripeaux on sent l e drame. N'est-ce pas en ses pieces, en e f f e t , qu'on trouve pour l a premiere f o i s , d'une facon suivie et systematique, une action soutenue, du spectacle, des actes et des scenes bien enchaines? N'est-ce pas l a premiere f o i s que l e s interets en jeu sont debattus sur l a scene meme? que l e s personnages en l u t t e se rencontrent et se mesurent devant nous? que l e s scenes h f a i r e sont f a i t e s ? Nous avons c i t e et nous pourrions c i t e r encore d'autres reformes: suppression des choeurs, m u l t i p l i c a t i o n des scenes, monologues abreges, dialogue plus coupe", nombre des personnages accru; tout cela n'a qu'une moindre importance, ou plutdt tout cela n'est qu'une consequence du changement que nous venons de signaler, et qu'un mot, en apparence paradoxale r£sumera: l a tragedie devient enfin du theatre . The same c r i t i c remarks that the u n i t i e s of time and place are not observed i n Hardy's tragedies, but adds that, " s i , au l i e u des unite's de l i e u et de temps, nous cherchons 1'unite d'action, brusquement l e s proportions changent. Timociee renferme deux pieces ... ; i l y a deux crises qui s'engendrent l'une 1'autre dans Mel^agre: Hardy f a i t meme une c r i s e de Coriolan. qui devient une h i s t o i r e dans Shakespeare; i l f a i t une c r i s e de Didon. qui devient un roman dans Scuddry. Enfin Rigal, Hardy, p. 398. 23 p Hardy e s t , s u r ce p o i n t , beaucoup p l u s r e g u l i e r que G a m i e r " . Subsequent c r i t i c s have tended, w i t h minor m o d i f i c a t i o n s and changes o f emphasis, t o r e p e a t R i g a l ' s o p i n i o n . Indeed, F o r s y t h i n s i s t s on t h i s s y n t h e s i s o f what he c a l l s R e n a i s s a n c e and baroque t e c h n i q u e s i n Hardy's t r a g e d i e s , but doubts t h a t 4 t h e d r a m a t i s t was aware o f t h e importance o f t h i s procedure . One may deny t h a t Hardy o f t e n a c h i e v e d a s a t i s f a c t o r y s y n t h e s i s ; but i t cannot be doubted t h a t he knew what he was t r y i n g t o do. T h i s I hope t o demonstrate by c o n s i d e r i n g Hardy's t r a g e d i e s f r om the p o i n t o f view o f d r a m a t i c t e c h n i q u e , w i t h t h e purpose o f showing t h a t t h e r e i s a g e n e r a l l y c o n s i s t e n t p a t t e r n t o t h e a c t i o n i n the p l a y s . The p l o t a n a l y s e s o f t h e t r a g e d i e s r e v e a l t h a t Hardy's c h o i c e o f sour c e m a t e r i a l and o f t h e elements t o d r a m a t i s e a r e d i f f e r e n t from t h o s e o f h i s m e d i a e v a l and R e n a i s s a n c e p r e d e c e s s o r s . R i g a l emphasises a number o f thes e d i f f e r e n c e s ; n ote need be ta k e n o f o n l y a few o f the more s i g n i f i c a n t ones. F o r any t r a g i c 2 I b i d . . pp. 399-400. ^ C f . L a n c a s t e r , H i s t o r y . I , 1, p. 52; A n t o i n e Adam, H i s t o i r e de l a l i t t e r a t u r e f r a n c a i s e au XV I I e s i e c l e . 5 v o l s . ( P a r i s , 19487, v o l . 1, pp. 193-94; D e i e r k a u f - H o l s b o e r , " V i e d'Alexandre Hardy", p. 336; H e r r i c k , Tragicomedy, p. 186; Lanson, E s q u i s s e . pp. 44, 45. ^ E l l i o t t F o r s y t h , L a T r a g e d i e f r a n c a i s e de J o d e l l e a C o r n e i l l e  (1552-1640): l e theme de l a vengeance. ( P a r i s , 19627, p. 349. 24 d r a m a t i s t whose m a t e r i a l i s not e n t i r e l y f i c t i t i o u s , the c h o i c e o f the p o i n t o f time a t w h i c h t o b e g i n the d r a m a t i s a t i o n i s i m p o r t a n t . Any h i s t o r i c a l o r q u a s i - h i s t o r i c a l account o f t h e l i f e o f a hero ( o r n a t i o n ) w i l l c o n t a i n a number of e p i s o d e s which c o u l d be d r a m a t i s e d . Some w i l l l e n d themselves t o comedy, o t h e r s t o t r a g e d y , y e t o t h e r s t o h e r o i c drama. I n the h i s t o r i c a l a c c o u n t , t h e s e e p i s o d e s w i l l b l e n d one i n t o a n o t h e r , or be now comic, now t r a g i c , now h e r o i c by t u r n s , l i k e t h e m e d i a e v a l mystery p l a y s . I f t h e t r a g i c a u t h o r b e g i n s h i s d r a m a t i s a t i o n t o o e a r l y i n the h i s t o r i c a l a c c o u n t , he i s l i k e l y t o g i v e t h e wrong tone o r emphasis t o h i s p l a y , or a t l e a s t t o the opening scenes. T h i s i s R i g a l * s c r i t i c i s m o f Shakespeare's C o r i o l a n u s ; t h e f i r s t h a l f o f t h e p l a y i s h e r o i c drama r a t h e r t h a n t r a g e d y . Nor must the p l a y w r i g h t b e g i n too l a t e , o t h e r w i s e the c r i s i s i s p a s t and what remains i s e l e g y . T h i s i s t h e g e n e r a l c r i t i c i s m o f R e n a i s s a n c e t r a g e d y . Compared t o J o d e l l e , Hardy chooses t o s t a r t h i s account o f t h e Dido and Aeneas s t o r y a t a s l i g h t l y e a r l i e r s t a g e ; i n Hardy's p l a y , Aenee i s not y e t i r r e v o c a b l y r e s o l v e d t o l e a v e Carthage when the a c t i o n b e g i n s . He i s s t i l l prone t o v a c i l l a t e , t o be a s s a i l e d by doubts. He knows the d e c i s i o n must be made, but f o r the p r e s e n t he i s unable t o make i t . C o r i o l a n , h a v i n g d e c i d e d t o t e a c h the i n s o l e n t Roman mob a l e s s o n , t e m p o r a r i l y postpones a c t i n g on t h i s d e c i s i o n i n f a c e o f the arguments o f h i s mother. Hardy b e g i n s the a c t i o n o f h i s v e r s i o n o f Panthee much e a r l i e r i n t h e s t o r y t h a n does h i s contemporary, Claude 25 B i l l a r d . I n t h e l a t t e r ' s p l a y , Abradate has a l r e a d y a l l i e d h i m s e l f t o Cyrus' cause when t h e p l a y opens; i n Hardy's p l a y the b e g i n n i n g c o i n c i d e s w i t h C i r u s ' v i c t o r y over the L y d i a n s . L a Mort d ' A c h i l l e b e g i n s a t t h e moment when the hero d e c i d e s t o propose m a r r i a g e t o P o l i x e n e ; i n Mussato's v e r s i o n , the ma r r i a g e i s a l r e a d y a r r a n g e d when t h e p l a y opens. Hardy's A l c e s t e . a p a r t from a d d i n g a g r e a t d e a l o f m a t e r i a l t o E u r i p i d e s ' A l c e s t i s s t o r y , s t a r t s w i t h t h e H e r c u l e s episode r a t h e r t h a n t h a t c o n c e r n i n g the h e r o i n e . Mel^agre p r e s e n t s two events i n the l i f e o f the he r o . The f i r s t concerns the hunt f o r and t h e k i l l i n g o f the boar; but we do not see a d r a m a t i s e d account o f the ravages o f the monster and o n l y the s l i g h t e s t r e f e r e n c e i s made t o t h e r e a s o n f o r Diana's anger (Mel^agre. 9-10). I n s t e a d , t h e f i r s t a c t i s t a k e n up w i t h the p e t i t i o n s o f Mele"agre's s u b j e c t s and h i s d e c i s i o n t o t a k e s t r o n g measures t o r i d h i s c o u n t r y o f the b e a s t . These examples s e r v e t o i l l u s t r a t e Hardy's c o n c e r n w i t h q u i c k l y c a p t u r i n g the i n t e r e s t o f t h e au d i e n c e . Where t h e hero makes, or i s about t o make, or p o s t -pones making a d e c i s i o n , the audience i s a t once c u r i o u s t o know what the outcome o f h i s r e s o l u t i o n ( o r i r r e s o l u t i o n ) w i l l be; the premises o f the a c t i o n a r e i m m e d i a t e l y s t a t e d . I n the case o f Panthee and A l c e s t e . the appearance o f t h e h e r o i n e i s d e l a y e d by a scene i n v o l v i n g a n o t h e r major c h a r a c t e r ; the audience a n t i c i p a t e s the e n t r a n c e o f t h e h e r o i n e , w h i l e Hardy i s a b l e t o i n t r o d u c e an i m p o r t a n t a s p e c t o f the main theme o f the p l a y . I t s h o u l d n o t , t h e n , be assumed t h a t Hardy's c h o i c e o f 26 s t a r t i n g p o i n t i s i n any way haphazard. A l t h o u g h he was aware o f the need f o r a r a p i d i n t r o d u c t i o n t o t h e a c t i o n o f h i s p l a y s , i t cannot, however, he s a i d t h a t he always a c h i e v e d i t . F o r i n s t a n c e , Mariamne and l a Mort d 1 A l e x a n d r e open w i t h the appearance o f a p r o t a t i c ghost who r e c o u n t s t h e misdeeds o f the k i n g , speaks i n g e n e r a l i t i e s about t h e events o f the p l a y t h a t i s t o f o l l o w , and p r e d i c t s the d o w n f a l l o f t h e t y r a n t . The opening scene o f l a Mort d 1 A c h i l l e i s s i m i l a r , though the awakening A c h i l l e seems unaware o f the warnings o f the ghost o f P a t r o c l e , whose speech i s thus d i r e c t e d s o l e l y a t the a u d i e n c e . The p r o l o g u e does not r e a l l y s t a t e the premises o f the a c t i o n , w h i c h , as we l e a r n i n the e n s u i n g scene between A c h i l l e and N e s t o r , w i l l be concerned w i t h t h e c o n f l i c t between t h e hero's l o v e f o r P o l i x e n e and h i s l o y a l t y t o t h e Greek cause. S i m i l a r l y , t h e ghost o f A r i s t o b u l e , w h i l e p r e d i c t i n g the outcome o f Mariamne. has no i n f l u e n c e on the a c t i o n , which stems u l t i m a t e l y from a c l a s h o f p e r s o n a l i t y and w i l l between H£rode and Mariamne, 5 and i m m e d i a t e l y from the s e i z u r e by Salome of an o p p o r t u n i t y t o d e s t r o y the h e r o i n e . A l e x a n d r e ' s p r i d e and a m b i t i o n , d e s c r i b e d by t h e ghost o f Parmenion i n the p r o l o g u e t o l a Mort  d'Alexandre. a r e seen c l e a r l y i n the d i s c u s s i o n which f o l l o w s between t h e k i n g and h i s a d v i s e r s . F u rthermore, A l e x a n d r e does n o t seem e s p e c i a l l y overweening i n t h i s p l a y , and h i s d e a t h i s the d i r e c t r e s u l t o f t h e c o n s p i r a c y of A n t i p a t r e and h i s sons. I n o t h e r words, t h e appearance o f a p r o l o g i s i n g ghost i n Hardy's 5 Hardy s p e l l s the name w i t h o u t t h e f i n a l a c c e n t ; see Mariamne. 193-94, rhyme homme — Salome. 27 t r a g e d i e s i s a t r a d i t i o n a l R e n a i s s a n c e - t y p e d e v i c e . One may compare the use o f Archidame as a p r o t a t i c f i g u r e i n the f i r s t scene o f Scedase. where h i s speech has n o t h i n g t o do w i t h t h e events t o be seen on s t a g e , where he does n ot mention any o f t h e c h a r a c t e r s i n t h e a c t i o n , but i n whi c h he d e p l o r e s i n g e n e r a l terms the c o r r u p t i o n o f S p a r t a n v i r t u e by g o l d and l u x u r y . The p r o l o g u e d e f i n e s t h e theme o f the p l a y and suggests a m o r a l t h a t might be drawn. Of a s i m i l a r t y pe i s t h e appearance o f t h e ghost o f Theagene i n Timoelee. w h i c h s e r v e s merely t o i n t r o d u c e th e h e r o i n e and t h e t r a d i t i o n a l d i s c u s s i o n o f t h e e f f i c a c y o f dreams which f o l l o w s — as R i g a l s a y s , "un p r o l o g u e plac£ au t r o i s i e m e a c t e ! " Such a d e v i c e may be termed r h e t o r i c a l , s i n c e i t s purpose i s t o e s t a b l i s h the e m o t i o n a l tone o f the p l a y , one o f f o r e b o d i n g and d e s p a i r , and n o t t o c a r r y f o r w a r d the a c t i o n . A c o r r e s p o n d i n g d e v i c e , used t o u n d e r s c o r e the denouement. i s t he f o r m a l lament w i t h w h i c h Hardy ends many o f h i s t r a g e d i e s . The e s s e n t i a l f u n c t i o n o f t h e lament i n s i x t e e n t h - c e n t u r y t r a g e d y was t o a f f o r d a v e h i c l e whereby the s u r v i v i n g personages might e x p r e s s i n r h e t o r i c a l terms t h e i r r e a c t i o n t o t h e c a t a s t r o p h e . O f t e n t h e r e a c t i o n i s t h a t o f Hecube i n G a m i e r ' s l a Troade, who a w a i t s w i t h t r e p i d a t i o n what the f u t u r e w i l l b r i n g . I n Hardy's t r a g e d i e s , however, the f o r m a l lament tends t o be r a t h e r more t h a n a d e v i c e o f t h i s n a t u r e . Anne and t h e Ohoeur lament 6 R i g a l , Hardy, pp. 392-93. 28 the d e a t h o f Didon, Panthee t h a t o f h e r husband. Volomnie u t t e r s a f o r m a l lament over t h e body o f C o r i o l a n , w h i l e Sisigambe r e g r e t s the murder o f h e r son D a i r e . I n t h e s e f o u r i n s t a n c e s t h e f o r m a l lament i s c o u p l e d w i t h a d e a t h - w i s h on the p a r t o f the s u r v i v o r , and i n the case of Panthee s u i c i d e i n f a c t f o l l o w s . The hackneyed n a t u r e o f t h i s d e v i c e can be seen most c l e a r l y i n C o r i o l a n and l a Mort de D a i r e . where a change o f scene i s r e q u i r e d t o i n t r o d u c e the l a m e n t i n g mother. The lament i s p a r t i c u l a r l y s u p e r f l u o u s i n the l a t t e r p l a y i n t h a t a new personage i s i n t r o d u c e d i n t h e l a s t scene of the p l a y , w h i l e the a c t i o n o f the t r a g e d y i s complete w i t h o u t t h i s scene. However, i n l a Mort d ' A c h i l l e and l a Mort d'Alexandre the f o r m a l lament i s combined w i t h a p a n e g y r i c on the h e r o , but i s not p r e c i s e l y the end o f the a c t i o n , s i n c e b o t h th e s e p l a y s a r e "open-ended", i n t h e sense t h a t t h e r e p e r c u s s i o n s o f the a c t i o n a r e seen as p r o j e c t e d i n t o the f u t u r e . T h i s i s a l s o the p a t t e r n o f the a c t i o n o f l a Mort de D a i r e . which i s why the i n t r o d u c t i o n o f Sisigambe i s s u p e r f l u o u s . On the o t h e r hand, the l a m e n t i n g Volomnie and Panthee b o t h remind us of t h e i r v i t a l r o l e i n t h e a c t i o n , Volomnie s t a t i n g t h a t she a l o n e was a b l e t o bend C o r i o l a n ' s h a t r e d o f Rome, Panthee t h a t she had i n d u c e d Abradate t o a l l y h i m s e l f w i t h C i r u s . F u r t h e r m o r e , Panthee's s u i c i d e produces a n o t h e r lament and p a n e g y r i c by C i r u s , w h i c h c o n s t i t u t e s t h e r e a l e n d i n g o f the p l a y . S t r u c t u r a l l y , Panthee and C o r i o l a n a r e c l o s e d , i n t h a t t h e r e i s no p r o j e c t i o n o f the a c t i o n beyond the e n d i n g o f the p l a y . The lament i s t h e r e f o r e an a p p r o p r i a t e 29 e n d i n g , even though i t i s a commonplace f o r m u l a , and i n these i n s t a n c e s i t i s s l i g h t l y more th a n a mere r h e t o r i c a l f l o u r i s h . Anne a l s o accuses h e r s e l f o f r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r Didon's d e a t h because she had encouraged h e r s i s t e r ' s l o v e f o r Aen6e and she wishes t o commit s u i c i d e i n h e r t u r n , o n l y t o be r e s t r a i n e d by Barce and the Choeur. She must t a k e up the r e i n s o f government where they have been i r r e s p o n s i b l y dropped by Didon. I n t h i s way, the lament and d e a t h - w i s h l e a d i n t o a commentary on the theme and a c t i o n o f the p l a y and a r e not e n t i r e l y s u p e r f l u o u s . Herode's lament i s l e s s f o r Mariamne than f o r h i m s e l f , and c o n s t i t u t e s an e m o t i o n a l pendant t o the h a l l u c i n a t i o n s which precede i t . The f o r m a l lament as a d r a m a t i c d e v i c e w i t h w h i c h t o end a t r a g e d y may be r e g a r d e d as a c o u n t e r p a r t t o the s t e r e o t y p e d p r o l o g u e . I t has been suggested t h a t such d e v i c e s a r e d i s t u r b i n g o n l y when they a r e n o t i n t e g r a t e d i n t o the s t r u c t u r e o f the a c t i o n o f the p l a y . One might mention i n t h i s c o n t e x t o t h e r d e v i c e s t h a t u n d e r s c o r e t h e d r a m a t i c mood and h e i g h t e n suspense: dreams, p r a y e r s , p r e s a g e s , p o r t e n t s and omens. Dreams a r e r e p o r t e d i n a number o f the p l a y s , f o r example i n Didon se  s a c r i f i a n t (1,2; I V , 3 ) , Panthde ( I V , 1 ) , and Mdleagre ( V , 2 ) , and i n t h e s e i n s t a n c e s they a r e i n t r o d u c e d s i m p l y f o r r h e t o r i c a l e f f e c t t o h e i g h t e n a mood of f e a r and t r e p i d a t i o n . The appearance o f Mercure i n a dream t o Aenee (Didon. I V , 1 ) , on the o t h e r hand, i s o f importance i n the development of the a c t i o n , s i n c e i t marks the moment of d e c i s i o n f o r Aen£e and a change o f f o r t u n e 30 for the hero, which brings about as a dir e c t consequence the 7 death of Didon . In other words, Hardy was able i n t h i s case to take a t r a d i t i o n a l device and use i t to dramatic advantage. The prayer i s another device which Hardy uses extensively at the beginning of his tragedies. Aenee prays to Jupiter i n the monologue which opens Didon se s a c r i f i a n t ; M^leagre prays to Diana to remove the scourge she has sent his kingdom; Cirus thanks Apollo f o r his vic t o r y i n Panthee; Daire also prays to Apollo to preserve the Persian empire. The device i s again purely r h e t o r i c a l , designed to set the emotional atmosphere and f i l l i n the background of the story. This observation i s true also of the prayers frequently uttered during the course of the action of the tragedies. The prayer comes to a character's l i p s at times of stress, and indicates an emotional rather than a r e l i g i o u s state. Only i n the case of Didon se s a c r i f i a n t i s one made conscious of the action f u l f i l l i n g some divine plan, and we have seen how important i s the appearance of Jupiter's emmissary l a t e r i n the play. The presages i n Hardy's plays are usually rather vague presentiments of e v i l , as when A c h i l l e , going to meet the Trojans for the marriage ceremony at the temple, suddenly stumbles. D'ou vient qu'un pied g l i s s e , tout l e p o i l me herisse? L ' o e i l me tourne 6bloui, j ' a i l e coeur palpitant; Que d'augures mauvais survenus a 1'instant 1, (A c h i l l e . 1262-64) 7 Cf. Rigal, Hardy, p. 270, n. 3. 31 Sim i l a r l y , Coriolan i s disturbed by "cent presages mortels" (Coriolan, 1079) as he awaits to be summoned before the Volscian council. In such instances, the device i s employed, l i k e the dream, simply to create an emotional atmosphere; i t has no necessary function i n the action. The case i s somewhat di f f e r e n t i n l a Mort d 1 Alexandre. where the action of the f i r s t half of the play consists mainly of a succession of prophecies and portents. Compared to the presages noted above, these warnings are either more e x p l i c i t — do not enter Babylon on pain of death! — or, i f a l l e g o r i c a l , may be interpreted as d i r e c t threats to Alexandre's position and prestige as king. In other words, the t r a d i t i o n a l device of the omen i s here integrated into the action, which could hardly exist without the presages. In contrast to these verbal devices, which may or may not advance the action, we should note the s k i l f u l use Hardy makes of v i s u a l enactment to enliven dramatic interest. It has been a commonplace among l i t e r a r y historians to castigate Hardy for the excessively v i o l e n t , the h o r r i f i c and the crudely salacious events that he presents on stage. "Nous n'exigeons assurement pas du poete tragique q u ' i l termine chaque piece par 'le crime puni et l a vertu recompenses', mais ce que nous pouvons l u i demander c'est un peu moins de b r u t a l i t y , tranchons l e mot, de b e s t i a l i t e dans l e s sentiments de ses personnages. Pour eux 1'amour, c'est l'acte physique; i l s l e disent sans vergogne. 32 ... Non, Hardy e s t i n e x c u s a b l e b i e n qu'on v e u i l l e r e j e t e r l a Q f a u t e s u r l e s moeurs du temps" . I t s h o u l d not be thought t h a t B^raneck was t a k i n g a p r u d i s h l y " n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y " v i e w o f Hardy's p l a y s . F o r example, Raymond Lebegue s t a t e s t h a t , " t o u t e s [ l e s t r a g e d i e s ] nous f o n t v o i r au moins une a c t i o n v i o l e n t e ou un cadavre; l e s v i o l e n c e s e t l e s s p e c t a c l e s macabres y sont b i e n p l u s nombreux que dans l e t h e a t r e de G a r n i e r . D'autre p a r t , on peut n o t e r dans ses p i e c e s un grand nombre de p a r o l e s , de g e s t e s e t de s i t u a t i o n s c o n t r a i r e s a. l a decence.ou Q a l a m o r a l i t y s e x u e l l e " . The E n g l i s h commentator, F. K. Dawson, i s o f a s i m i l a r o p i n i o n . "The common f a c t o r i n a l l [Hardy*s{ s u b j e c t s seems t o be t h a t they a r e concerned w i t h v i o l e n c e and h o r r o r ; which means, o f c o u r s e , t h a t they a r e swathed i n an atmosphere w h i c h c o u l d l o o s e l y be termed Senecan. I n t h i s , t h e y a r e no d i f f e r e n t from the v a s t m a j o r i t y o f t r a g e d i e s w r i t t e n about t h i s t i m e , not o n l y i n France but i n I t a l y and S p a i n , c o u n t r i e s t o which the F r e n c h w r i t e r s were i n the h a b i t o f t u r n i n g f o r g u i d a n c e " 1 0 . I t cannot be d e n i e d t h a t the language o f some of Hardy's c h a r a c t e r s i s a t t i m e s v i o l e n t . The t h r e a t though n o t always th e f a c t of v i o l e n c e i s p r e s e n t i n t h e s e p l a y s , but i s a l l t h e more e f f e c t i v e and l e s s d i s t r a c t i n g f o r o B^raneck, Seneque e t Hardy. p. 17. 9 Raymond Lebegue, "La t r a g e d i e 1 s h a k e s p e a r i e n n e 1 en F r ance au temps de Shakespeare," Revue des Cours et Conferences 3 8 ( i i ) (1937), 622. """^  F. K. Dawson, "Alexandre Hardy and s e v e n t e e n t h - c e n t u r y F r e n c h t r a g e d y , " R e n a i s s a n c e and Modern S t u d i e s 3 (1959), 79. 33 the reason that i t i s suggested and not represented. It i s not within the scope of t h i s study to compare Hardy's tragedies with those of his predecessors and contemporaries, hut Lebegue may again be cited as giving a summary of the tendencies of the drama at th i s period. "Nous avons suffisamment montre qu'au debut du XVIIe s i e c l e , s i quelques auteurs de tragedies cachaient encore au public l e s actions violentes et macabres, l a grande majorite d'entre eux l e s etalaient sur l a scene et recherchaient l'horreur avec autant de zele que l e s dramaturges anglais et l e s auteurs de nos vieux mysteres"^". It i s l e f t to Lancaster to emphasise Hardy's comparative r e s t r a i n t i n t h i s matter of stage violence. "Fighting and k i l l i n g are seen on the stage. ... Words and situations that would have shocked subsequent theater-goers are not unusual. Yet the coarseness of Hardy's tragedies has been exaggerated. There i s nothing i n Didon. Panthee. or Daire to offend the most delicate s e n s i b i l i t i e s . The plays i n which his b r u t a l i t y 12 exceeds that of Shakespeare, f o r example, are very few" While emphasising spectacle (though with comparative dis c r e t i o n ) , Hardy i s , i n fact, judicious i n his choice of material to represent or to report. Thus he does not dramatise, or even mention, the scene i n which Panthee arms Abradate, 11 Lebegue, "La tragedie 'shakespearienne*", p. 396. For a summary of the plays of the "grande majority", see: Lancaster E. Dabney, French Dramatic Literature i n the reign of Henri IV. (Austin, 1952); Forsyth, Tragedie francaise; and Lancaster, History. I, 1 and 2. 12 Lancaster, History. I, 1, p. 51. 34 w h i l e he p r e s e n t s i n Didon se s a c r i f i a n t such apparently-i r r e l e v a n t e p i s o d e s as t h o s e i n v o l v i n g I a r b e and J u l e . But t h e scenes w i t h Didon's r e j e c t e d s u i t o r and Aenee's son p r o v i d e an a m p l i f i c a t i o n o f , and a commentary on, the c e n t r a l a c t i o n i n v o l v i n g the hero and h e r o i n e , w h i l e the scene o f the arming o f A b r a d a t e , though i t i n v o l v e s the h e r o i n e , c o n t r i b u t e s n o t h i n g t o t h e a c t i o n which w i l l see h e r t a k e h e r own l i f e . Hardy does n o t p r e s e n t the boar hunt i n Meleagre on s t a g e , and i t s h o u l d not be assumed t h a t he c o u l d n o t have done so, s i n c e a contem-p o r a r y d r a m a t i s t , B o i s s i n de G-allardon, s t a g e d the hunt, 13 presumably u s i n g a s i m i l a r d e c o r a t i v e system . Furthermore, Hardy was a b l e t o p r e s e n t on s t a g e scenes of c o n s i d e r a b l e movement and v i o l e n c e , such as t h e b a t t l e s i n l a Mort d ' A c h i l l e and T i m o c l e e , and even the p r e s e n t a t i o n o f the boar would not have proved d i f f i c u l t f o r a d r a m a t i s t who, i n A l c e s t e . b r i n g s on s t a g e C e r b e r u s , the three-headed g u a r d i a n o f h e l l . But i f the boar hunt were s t a g e d , we s h o u l d n o t have the messenger's r e p o r t w i t h i t s emphasis on Meleagre's courage and i t s p r a i s e o f t h e k i n g . The b r u t a l s l a y i n g o f Hypparque i n Timoclde i s p r e s e n t e d d r a m a t i c a l l y 1 ^ " , but not t h e no l e s s b r u t a l murder o f 1 5 R i g a l , Hardy, p. 313. •**^  R i g a l assumes t h a t the murder o f Hypparque i s r e p r e s e n t e d on s t a g e : see h i s s u g g e s t i o n s f o r t h e mise en scene o f t h i s p l a y , Hardy, p. 385, n. 3. I n f a c t , t h e r e i s n o t h i n g i n the t e x t t o i n d i c a t e t h a t t h e c r i e s o f the d y i n g s o l d i e r a r e not h e a r d from o f f - s t a g e , and t h a t the murder i s r e p r e s e n t e d , any more th a n was the rape o f Timoclee e a r l i e r i n the p l a y . 35 D a i r e , n or the p o i s o n i n g o f A l e x a n d r e . Hardy does, however, p r e s e n t the dea t h agony o f the two k i n g s , because he i s concerned t o show how these n o b l e c h a r a c t e r s meet t h e i r end. A c h i l l e and C o r i o l a n b o t h d i e on s t a g e , because the d e a t h o f th e s e two heroes i s the c l i m a x o f the a c t i o n ; but we do not see the e x e c u t i o n o f Mariamne, because the c u l m i n a t i o n o f the a c t i o n o f t h i s p l a y l i e s i n H e r o d e 1 s r e c e p t i o n o f the r e p o r t o f h i s w i f e ' s d e a t h 1 5 . I n g e n e r a l , however, Hardy does emphasise s t a g e a c t i o n r a t h e r than r e p o r t e d events i n o r d e r t o produce the scenes h. f a i r e t h a t R i g a l remarked upon. These a r e t h e scenes i n whi c h v i o l e n t p h y s i c a l a c t i o n s f o l l o w the v i o l e n t emotions expressed i n t h e d i a l o g u e : Didon throws h e r s e l f a t Aen^e's f e e t , storms, c u r s e s him; Herode works h i m s e l f i n t o a t o w e r i n g r a g e ; C o r i o l a n i s murdered. Hardy was aware o f the need f o r movement about the s t a g e , and uses the c a p a b i l i t i e s o f the decor simultane" t o 16 h i s advantage . R i g a l i n s i s t s on the importance o f a knowledge o f the system o f s t a g e - s e t t i n g c u r r e n t i n a d r a m a t i s t ' s l i f e t i m e f o r a c q u i r i n g a t r u e a p p r e c i a t i o n o f h i s p l a y s . " S e l o n que l e 15 A g a i n , i t s h o u l d not be assumed t h a t Hardy c o u l d not have s t a g e d t h i s scene, s i n c e S c h e l a n d r e p r e s e n t s the e x e c u t i o n — or n e a r - e x e c u t i o n — o f the h e r o i n e i n Tyr et S i d o n (1628 v e r s i o n ) , and h e r l a s t - m i n u t e r e s c u e from the s c a f f o l d by B e l c a r i s the c u l m i n a t i n g i n c i d e n t o f t h i s romanesque p l o t . 16 F o r a f u l l d i s c u s s i o n o f the development o f the decor  simultane' and i t s use by Hardy, see R i g a l , Hardy. 11,3, esp. pp. 186-98; c f . Jacques S c h e r e r , L a Dramaturgie c l a s s i q u e  en F r a n c e . ( P a r i s , s. d . ) , p. 152; and Georges V e d i e r , O r i g i n e  e t e v o l u t i o n de l a dr a m a t u r g i e ne"o-classique. ( P a r i s , 1955), pp. 68-72; 77-78. 36 systeme adopte pour l a mise en scene s e r a c e l u i de l a d e c o r a t i o n s i m p l e e t immuable, ou c e l u i de l a d e c o r a t i o n changeante, ou c e l u i de l a d e c o r a t i o n m u l t i p l e , l ' a u t e u r coupera differemment sa p i e c e , c h o i s i r a differemment l e s p a r t i e s de 1 ' a c t i o n q u i d o i v e n t p a r a i t r e s u r l e t h e a t r e , e t c e l l e s q u i d o i v e n t e t r e demobees aux yeux des s p e c t a t e u r s ; i l a u r a un a r t dramatique 17 d i f f e r e n t " . The d e c o r a t i o n m u l t i p l e r e p r e s e n t s s e v e r a l d i f f e r e n t l o c a t i o n s s i m u l t a n e o u s l y ; thus t h e decor f o r l a Mort d ' A c h i l l e w i l l r e p r e s e n t A c h i l l e ' s t e n t and Agamemnon's t e n t i n t he Greek camp, the k i n g ' s c o u n c i l chamber i n Troy, and the Temple o f A p o l l o , w h i l e the a c t i o n o f l a Mort de D a i r e t a k e s p l a c e i n v a r i o u s p a r t s o f D a i r e ' s camp, i n A l e x a n d r e ' s , and i n an open a r e a w i t h a stream and a h i l l o c k f o r the scene i n whi c h D a i r e d i e s ( V , l ) , though the two camps a r e c o n s i d e r e d as b e i n g s i t u a t e d i n d i f f e r e n t l o c a l i t i e s i n P e r s i a as the a c t i o n p r o g r e s s e s . I n t h i s d e c o r a t i v e system t h e a c t o r would e i t h e r speak h i s l i n e s i n the p l a c e r e p r e s e n t e d , chamber o r t e n t , o r e l s e would f i r s t appear i n t h a t p l a c e b e f o r e moving towards the c e n t r e o f t h e s t a g e w h i l e s p e a k i n g , so t h a t the audience would know i n which p a r t i c u l a r p l a c e the a c t i o n was supposed t o be p r o g r e s s i n g . The Memoire de Mahelot g i v e s a s e r i e s o f 18 s t a g e d e s i g n s u s i n g t h i s d e c o r a t i v e system , w h i l e R i g a l 1 7 R i g a l , Hardy, p. 185. L a u r e n t Mahelot e t M i c h e l L a u r e n t , Le Memoire de Mahelot. L a u r e n t e t d ' a u t r e s d e c o r a t e u r s de 1'HoTel de Bourgogne e t  de l a Comedie-Francaise au X V I I e s j j j c l e , ed. H. C a r r i n g t o n L a n c a s t e r . ("Paris, 1920"JT 37 appends t o h i s a n a l y s i s o f each o f Hardy's p l a y s an imagined de c o r s i m u l t a n e . I t w i l l be noted t h a t Hardy's scene changes g e n e r a l l y i n d i c a t e a change o f l o c a l i t y , but t h e y can a l s o be used t o suggest a l a p s e o f t i m e . F o r example, i n a c t f o u r scene one of C o r i o l a n . V a l e r i e d e c i d e s t o ask Volomnie t o i n t e r c e d e w i t h C o r i o l a n , i n t h e second scene A m f i d i e s o l i l o q u i z e s on h i s changed a t t i t u d e towards t h e Roman g e n e r a l , i n the t h i r d Volomnie agrees t o V a l e r i e ' s r e q u e s t , and a t the b e g i n n i n g o f the f o u r t h C o r i o l a n a d d r e sses the C o n s e i l des V o l s q u e s . The t h i r d scene was p r o b a b l y i n c l u d e d m a i n l y t o i n d i c a t e a l a p s e o f time and two d i f f e r e n t l o c a t i o n s i n Antium ( A m f i d i e ' s house, the c o u n c i l chamber) between scenes two and f o u r . I n the same way, scene t h r e e o f t h e f o u r t h a c t of l a Mort de D a i r e ( A l e x a n d r e i n c o u n c i l w i t h h i s g e n e r a l s ) i s used t o i n d i c a t e the passage o f time between scene two, a t the end o f wh i c h Besse and Nabarzane promise t o put a guard around D a i r e ' s t e n t , and scene f o u r , i n whi c h the t r a i t o r s e n t e r the t e n t w i t h t h e i r s o l d i e r s t o b i n d t h e k i n g . Scene one o f a c t f o u r o f Mariamne. a p a r t from b e i n g t h e p r i s o n scene so p o p u l a r f o r i t s s p e c t a c u l a r e f f e c t w i t h e a r l y s e v e n t e e n t h - c e n t u r y d r a m a t i s t s , a l s o s e r v e s t o i n d i c a t e a l a p s e o f time between the l a s t scene o f a c t t h r e e , i n which Herode o r d e r s Mariamne t o be h e l d f o r f u r t h e r q u e s t i o n i n g , and the b e g i n n i n g o f a c t f o u r scene two, when Herode s o l i l o q u i z e s on the problem o f what a c t i o n t o t a k e a g a i n s t the queen. 38 A decorative system of thi s type i s conducive to considerable f l e x i b i l i t y and f l u i d i t y of movement, so that there i s no need 19 for the dramatist to observe the unity of place , and, i n fact, every inducement for him not to do so. In s k i l f u l hands, the system can be used to produce spectacular effects, such as the crowd and battle scenes mentioned above. The scene of action can switch rapidly from place to place, for example from Daire's camp to Alexandre's, from A c h i l l e ' s tent to Agamemnon's, from Rome to Antium i n Coriolan. using a technique of cutting from scene to scene that i s almost cinematographic. In Hardy's tragedies there are some examples of the use of another cinematographic technique that Jacques Scherer has called 20 " t r a v e l l i n g " . Thus A c h i l l e i s seen talking to the messenger as he walks from his tent towards the Temple of Apollo to meet Polixene and her brothers. The messenger i s the f i r s t to see the Trojans: Regardez la-devant: ce nuage poudreux Pres du Temple eleve, je crois que ce sont eux. ACHILLE II n'y a point de doute, au milieu je remarque De mon heureux destin l a desirable Parque. J'apercois, j'apercois de l o i n mon orient Darder sur moi l e s r a i s de son beau front r i a n t . ... Retirez-vous, amis, m*attendant a l ' ^ c a r t : Sa deite m'absout de craindre du hasard. (A c h i l l e . 847-52; 855-56) 1 9 Though Hardy does observe i t i n , for example, Didon se  s a c r i f i a n t and Mariamne; at lea s t , he observes i t to the same extent that Corneille does i n l e Cid. 20 Scherer, Dramaturgie. pp. 179-80. 39 As we have a l r e a d y seen, i n a c t f o u r scene two o f the same p l a y A c h i l l e stumbles as he i s making h i s way t o the temple a second time and comments on t h i s e v i l omen. I n l a Mort de D a i r e . P o l i s t r a t e has heard the d y i n g words of D a i r e and s e t s out t o r e p o r t t o A l e x a n d r e ( V , l ) . I n the n e x t scene A l e x a n d r e i s c o n f e r r i n g w i t h h i s c a p t a i n s , when P o l i s t r a t e approaches t o announce t h a t D a i r e " v i e n t d ' e x p i r e r i c i p r e s " ( D a i r e , 1339), and he g i v e s a b r i e f account o f the P e r s i a n k i n g ' s d e a t h , c o n c l u d i n g w i t h the words: " S i r e , v o i l a . son c o r p s q u i mesure l ' a r e n e " ( D a i r e . 1378). I t seems t h a t , d u r i n g the time o f the r e p o r t , A l e x a n d r e , P o l i s t r a t e and the g e n e r a l s have been moving from A l e x a n d r e ' s t e n t t o t h e spot where D a i r e ' s corpse i s l y i n g . A n other t e c h n i q u e used q u i t e e x t e n s i v e l y by Hardy, and w h i c h i s comparable t o " t r a v e l l i n g " , f u r t h e r demonstrates the p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r f l u i d movement a f f o r d e d by the decor s i m u l t a n e . I n C o r i o l a n . f o r example, the f i r s t scene o f a c t one ends w i t h t h e E d i l e summoning th e hero t o the Forum. C o r i o l a n and the E d i l e s e t o u t , Volomnie speaks f o u r l i n e s , and t h e n L i c i n i e i s seen a d d r e s s i n g C o r i o l a n i n the name of the Roman p e o p l e . One . imagines t h a t , as Volomnie i s u t t e r i n g h e r b r i e f p r a y e r t o J u p i t e r , C o r i o l a n i s p a s s i n g from one l o c a t i o n ( h i s house) t o a n o t h e r ( t h e Forum), where th e people a r e a l r e a d y assembled. A c t f i v e o f l a Mort d'Alexandre opens w i t h an ode by the Choeur d ' A r g y r a s p i d e s i n w h i c h the s o l d i e r s r e s o l v e t o go and see t h e i r k i n g f o r t h e l a s t t i m e . A l e x a n d r e and h i s c o u n s e l l o r s a r e t h e n seen i n d i s c u s s i o n , which i s i n t e r r u p t e d by a n o i s e o u t s i d e t h e 40 c o u n c i l chamber. Un murmure conf u s s ' a c c r o i t e t se r e n f o r c e , Comme q u i du p a l a i s v o u d r a i t 1'entree a f o r c e . 0 1 ( A l e x a n d r e . 1154-55 ) An a t t e n d a n t announces t h a t t h e Choeur d ' A r g y r a s p i d e s i s a s k i n g f o r an a u d i e n c e , which A l e x a n d r e g r a n t s , and the s o l d i e r s t r o o p i n . C l e a r l y , a s p e c t a c u l a r e f f e c t would be produced by t h e appearance o f such a group o f s o l d i e r s . I t i s an e f f e c t which Hardy seems t o have sought, f o r he r e p e a t s i t , w i t h a v a r i a t i o n , i n t h e o t h e r p l a y s o f the A l e x a n d r e t r i l o g y . T h i s t i m e , however, i n s t e a d o f the chorus moving a c r o s s s t a g e t o speak t o the k i n g , t h e k i n g goes t o address h i s t r o o p s . I n Ti m o c l ^ e the debate between A l e x a n d r e and h i s g e n e r a l s i n a c t f o u r scene one, ends w i t h the k i n g s a y i n g : Mais a l l o n s aux s o l d a t s d e r e c h e f c o n f i r m e r Ce q u i , b i e n qu'animes, l e s peut p l u s animer. ( T i m o c l e e . 1539-40) The n e x t scene opens w i t h an ode by the Choeur de S o l d a t s macedoniens i n whi c h they e x p r e s s t h e i r eagerness f o r the imminent o n s l a u g h t on Thebes and t h e i r i m p a t i e n c e t h a t A l e x a n d r e has n o t y e t addressed them and g i v e n the o r d e r t o a t t a c k . But a t l a s t he appears: Le v o i c i , compagnons, q u i , p o r t a n t l e presage D'une proche v i c t o i r e e e r i t en son v i s a g e , Nous l a v i e n t commander. (Tim o c l e e . 1584-86) A l e x a n d r e t h e n harangues h i s army. The same t e c h n i q u e i s used 2 1 T h e a t r e . IV, 77. The l i n e s a r e misnumbered 1054-55. 41 i n l a Mort de D a i r e . but t h e scene i s p o s s i b l y even more s p e c t a c u l a r . At dawn on the morning of t h e b a t t l e o f A r b e l a , A l e x a n d r e i s summoned from h i s t e n t by the r e p r o a c h e s o f Parmdnion t h a t he s h o u l d be s l e e p i n g a t such a t i m e . A f t e r some d i s c u s s i o n , t h e k i n g c a l l s t o h i s a t t e n d a n t s t o prepare h i s armour ("vous a u t r e s l a - d e d a n s , mes armes v i t e m e n t " , D a i r e . 404), and r e t i r e s t o h i s t e n t t o don i t . The Choeur d ' A r g y r a s p i d e s s i n g s an ode p r a i s i n g A l e x a n d r e ' s l e a d e r s h i p , and c o n c l u d e s : Mais l e v o i c i , s o l d a t s , q u i l e s p e r i l s e t r a n g e , Nous menant e x e r c e r aux o r d i n a i r e s j e u x , ( D a i r e . 435-36) as he reapp e a r s t o address them. One imagines A l e x a n d r e suddenly a p p e a r i n g b e f o r e them w e a r i n g resplendent armour: the f l a p o f h i s t e n t i s perhaps r a i s e d . The use o f a c u r t a i n which i s r a i s e d a t a g i v e n moment of t h e a c t i o n t o r e v e a l a room or s i m i l a r space i s s t u d i e d by 22 S c h e r e r , and c e r t a i n scenes i n Hardy's t r a g e d i e s would seem t o demand the use o f some such d e c o r a t i v e a c c e s s o r y . T h i s i s p a r t i c u l a r l y t r u e o f t h e f i r s t scene o f a c t t h r e e o f l a Mort d'Alexandre, where a page i s d i s c o v e r e d t r e m b l i n g w i t h f e a r i n f r o n t of A l e x a n d r e ' s t h r o n e room. As the k i n g approaches, t h e page warns him: Que t a M a j e s t e , S i r e , o r e s ne s'aventure De p a s s e r c e t t e p o r t e e t d'en f a i r e o u v e r t u r e . ( A l e x a n d r e . 557-58) p p Dramaturgie. pp. 175-79. S c h e r e r makes the d i s t i n c t i o n between the t a p i s s e r i e w h i c h covered t e m p o r a r i l y "un compartiment du decor", and the r i d e a u w h i c h h i d "1'ensemble de l a s e i n e " . I t i s u n l i k e l y t h a t the r i d e a u d 1 a v a n t - s c e n e was used i n Hardy's day t o i n d i c a t e d i v i s i o n s between a c t s : see Ve'dier, O r i g i n e e t e v o l u t i o n . 42 Alexandre sends for the high p r i e s t and, when Aristandre arrives, orders the page to open the door: Ouvre v i t e , ne tiens mes esprits suspendus, Rien que signes mauvais d'heure a autre entendus. (Alexandre. 567-68) Presumably a curtain i s drawn at thi s point to. reveal to the audience the strange and s i n i s t e r figure of Denis i n the throne room beyond. One i s tempted to imagine a s t r i k i n g l y spectacular effect at the end of the f i r s t scene of Coriolan. The Edil e summons the hero to the Forum; Volomnie speaks four l i n e s ; then L i c i n i e addresses Coriolan i n the name of the Roman people. A curtain i s perhaps raised at the end of Volomnie 1s speech to reveal the Forum with the assembled Senat and Choeur des Romains s i t t i n g i n judgement on the hero. Other scenic effects seem to be indicated by the text. Coriolan's banishment from Rome i s decided by vote. The Choeur des Romains orders the Edil e to take and to count the vote: Edi l e , depechez, par chacune lign£e A l l e z de 1'arrogant querir l a destinee. (Coriolan. 257-58) While th i s i s being done, the Sdnat and Coriolan b r i e f l y express th e i r anxiety, and then L i c i n i e announces the result of the vote: Suivant l'ordre ancien, par l e r£cit des l o i s Ta condamnation ne passe que de t r o i s . (Coriolan. 271-72) How i s the vote conducted? Are marks made on a paper, or a paper or token put i n a vase? Is i t by a show of hands? The vote may be given by word of mouth, whispered to the Ed i l e . 4 3 However that may be, some sort of spectacular effect would be achieved by the voting procedure. At the end of the f i r s t scene of Alceste. Junon sees Hercule approaching and disappears, so as not to be found scheming with Euristee: Parle bas, l e v o i c i ; je regagne les a i r s . EURISTEE Dieux! comme en un c l i n d ' o eil v i s i b l e je l a perds! Quel soudain t o u r b i l l o n , quel nuage l'emporte? Pouvoir digne vraiment du t i t r e qu'elle porte. (Alceste. 139-42) How would Junon be made to vanish? A machine could be used, and, indeed, Junon had e a r l i e r spoken of "going down" to Euristee's palace: Procedons a l ' e f f e t qui me descend legere Sans vouloir employer I r i s , ma messagere, De l'Olympe au palais d'Euryste, que v o i c i , Comme je de s i r a i s , qui s'achemine i c i . (Alceste. 57-60) Towards the end of the same play, Cerbere, the three-headed guardian of Hades, appears on stage at lea s t once, and possibly twice. The monster may be on stage during act four scene two, while Charon i s tr y i n g to bargain with Hercule for i t s release. It i s certainly present i n act f i v e scene one, because Admete refers to i t : "Que veut ce monstre affreux?" (Alceste. 1227). The many examples of scenic effects given i n the preceding pages w i l l perhaps indicate to what extent a p r a c t i c a l dramatist such as Hardy was able to exploit the p o t e n t i a l i t i e s of the contemporary decorative system. The f l e x i b i l i t y of movement afforded by the decor simultane" would also help the playwright solve the problem of motivating the entrances and exits of his 44 c h a r a c t e r s . A f t e r a l l , no l i n k i n g o f scenes i s r e q u i r e d , i n c o n t r a s t t o the s t r i c t l y c l a s s i c a l system o f the l a t e r s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y . On the c o n t r a r y , Hardy has sometimes t o i n t e r p o l a t e scenes t o s e p a r a t e two d i s t i n c t appearances o f the same c h a r a c t e r , as has a l r e a d y been n o t e d . Hardy n o r m a l l y uses t o advantage t h i s o p p o r t u n i t y f o r f r e e r movement, but o c c a s i o n a l l y t h e e n t r a n c e s o f h i s c h a r a c t e r s a r e not w e l l m o t i v a t e d . Thus i n t h e opening scene o f Didon se s a c r i f i a n t Aen£e, a f t e r a s o l i l o q u y o f s i x t y - t h r e e l i n e s , s uddenly e x c l a i m s : "Hal n ' a p e r c o i s - j e pas /Achate e t P a l i n u r e avancer s u r mes pas?" (Didon. 63-64) There i s no i n d i c a t i o n t h a t Aen£e has summoned h i s a d v i s e r s so t h a t he may c o n s u l t them. The e n t r a n c e o f Panthee t o Araspe i n a c t two scene one, seems a l s o t o r e s t p u r e l y on chance. Araspe e x p l a i n s t h a t he has f a l l e n i n l o v e w i t h h i s c a p t i v e i n a l o n g s o l i l o q u y which i s i n t e r r u p t e d when, " l a v o i c i " (Panthee. 269), she e n t e r s . S i m i l a r l y , the d i a l o g u e between Junon and E u r i s t e e i n the f i r s t scene o f A l c e s t e i s i n t e r r u p t e d when, " l e v o i c i " ( A l c e s t e . 139) , H e r c u l e appears f o r no apparent r e a s o n . I n l a Mort d 1 A l e x a n d r e . the k i n g has been d i s t u r b e d by the appearance t o him i n a dream o f t h e ghost o f Parmenion, and s o l i l o q u i z e s b r i e f l y about t h i s v i s i o n . F o r t u n a t e l y he does n o t have l o n g t o brood on the s e m a t t e r s , f o r : P e r d i c e e t A n t i g o n e , amis que j ' i d o l a t r e , Me v i e n n e n t a propos tous ces s o u c i s r a b a t t r e . ( A l e x a n d r e . 73-74) C o r i o l a n opens the t r a g e d y o f which he i s the hero w i t h a 45 s o l i l o q u y about th e i n j u s t i c e and i n g r a t i t u d e o f the Roman pe o p l e , and i s i n t e r r u p t e d when "ma mere me v i e n t a c c o s t e r s o u c i e u s e " ( C o r i o l a n . 74). I t w i l l be seen t h a t , i n each of t h e s e i n s t a n c e s , the awkward e n t r a n c e o c c u r s near the b e g i n n i n g o f the p l a y ( t h e f i r s t a c t o f Panthee r e a l l y s e r v e s as an i n t r o d u c t i o n t o the main a c t i o n ) , where the n e c e s s i t y o f g e t t i n g the a c t i o n moving c l a s h e s w i t h t h e c o n v e n t i o n o f b e g i n n i n g the t r a g e d y w i t h a p r o l o g u e , d e l i v e r e d e i t h e r by a p r o t a t i c f i g u r e o r by t h e main c h a r a c t e r i n s o l i l o q u y . T h i s c o n v e n t i o n i s a l s o r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the awkward t r a n s i t i o n s from monologue t o d i a l o g u e elsewhere i n t h e p l a y s . A f t e r t h e speech o f the ghost and Herode's opening monologue, Pherore b e g i n s t o speak a t l i n e 125 of Mariamne. Has he been p r e s e n t d u r i n g the whole o f t h e k i n g ' s speech? Has he j u s t a t t h i s moment entered? I f he has j u s t e n t e r e d , f o r what purpose has he come? The d i a l o g u e which f o l l o w s suggests no answer t o t h e s e q u e s t i o n s . At the b e g i n n i n g o f the t h i r d a c t o f the same p l a y , Herode ru s h e s out o f h i s apartment c u r s i n g Mariamne. He r a n t s f o r some twenty l i n e s , and then Salome comments on h e r b r o t h e r ' s anger. Has she been on s t a g e a l l the time? Does she e n t e r a t t h i s p o i n t ? These e n t r a n c e s a r e a d m i t t e d l y not w e l l m o t i v a t e d . But elsewhere Hardy uses the r e s o u r c e s o f the d^cor simultane' t o advantage t o conduct t h e a c t i o n s i m u l t a n e o u s l y i n two p l a c e s a s h o r t d i s t a n c e a p a r t . I n t h e f i r s t scene of a c t f o u r o f l a  Mort de D a i r e . P a t r o n warns th e k i n g o f the p l o t o f Besse and 46 Nabarzane, and i t seems from a s h o r t speech by Besse a t t h e end of t h i s scene t h a t the t r a i t o r has been i n h i d i n g c l o s e by, w a t c h i n g , but u n a b l e t o hear what P a t r o n had s a i d : 0 Grec m a l i c i e u x , t e s g e s t e s , t o n v i s a g e Du d e s s e i n r6v6l6 me donnent un presage. Tu i n f o r m a i s l e r o i , f i x e d 1 a t t e n t i o n Dessus l a v£rit£ de n o t r e i n t e n t i o n . ( D a i r e . 961-64) I n t h e f i n a l a c t o f T i m o c l e e . the h e r o i n e d i s m i s s e s P h a e n i s s e as Hypparque e n t e r s . The n o u r r i c e u t t e r s a s h o r t s o l i l o q u y as she r e t i r e s (11. 2047-54). A scene f o l l o w s i n which Timocle"e a r o u s e s the a v a r i c e o f Hypparque, and they go t o f i n d the t r e a s u r e i n the w e l l . P h a e n i s s e , who has been s t a n d i n g a t a d i s t a n c e o b s e r v i n g , but a p p a r e n t l y u n a b l e t o h e a r , comments on t h e suddenly a m i c a b l e r e l a t i o n s between h e r m i s t r e s s and t h e Macedonian s o l d i e r . Her s o l i l o q u y i s c u t s h o r t by t h e c r i e s o f Hypparque, d y i n g i n t h e w e l l . The use of t r a d i t i o n a l d e v i c e s and o f s p e c t a c l e d i s c u s s e d i n the p r e c e d i n g pages may enhance t h e a c t i o n , but cannot be a s u b s t i t u t e f o r i t . The p l a y must be w e l l c o n c e i v e d from t h e o u t s e t and have a c e n t r a l f o c u s t o a c h i e v e i t s p r o p e r d r a m a t i c impact. Hardy e f f e c t s t h i s by c o n s t r u c t i n g the a c t i o n around a key scene, w h i c h i s u s u a l l y t h a t i n w h i c h the main c h a r a c t e r s c o n f r o n t one a n o t h e r i n debate. I n Didon se s a c r i f i a n t . i t i s t h e i n t e r v i e w between Didon and Aenee (111,1). I n Panthee. t h e scenes i n w h i c h C i r u s . r e l e a s e s h i s c a p t i v e , and i n w h i c h Panthee persuades Abradate t o change s i d e s , form a complementary p a i r . 47 ( 1 1 1 , 1 , 2 ) . I n l a Mort d 1 A c h i l l e . the c r u c i a l scene i s t h a t i n w h i c h A c h i l l e a n g r i l y r e j e c t s the a d v i c e o f h i s Greek f r i e n d s ( 1 1 , 3 ) . I n C o r i o l a n . the scene i n w h i c h Volomnie comes t o Antium t o p l e a d w i t h her son (IV,4) marks the t u r n i n g p o i n t o f the a c t i o n . I n Mariamne. the two key scenes a r e those i n which Herode and Mariamne c o n f r o n t one a n o t h e r (111,1; I V , 2 ) , but t h e second i s e s p e c i a l l y i m p o r t a n t . I n l a Mort d'Alexandre. the whole of the t h i r d a c t , i n w h i c h A l e x a n d r e i s a s s a i l e d by p o r t e n t s and the p l e a s o f h i s w i f e and r e f u s e s t o l i s t e n t o any o f them, i s c r u c i a l f o r u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h e a c t i o n o f t h e p l a y . I t w i l l be seen t h a t t h e s e scenes o c c u r a p p r o x i m a t e l y i n the m i d d l e o f the p l a y , and mark a t u r n i n g p o i n t i n the f o r t u n e s o f the p r o t a g o n i s t . I t i s , i n f a c t , analogous t o the p e r i p e t y r e q u i r e d by A r i s t o t l e i n complex p l o t s : "A P e r i p e t y i s the change from one s t a t e o f t h i n g s w i t h i n the p l a y t o i t s o p p o s i t e o f the k i n d d e s c r i b e d , and t h a t too i n the way we a r e s a y i n g , 23 i n the p r o b a b l e o r n e c e s s a r y sequence of e v e n t s " . The p r o b a b i l i t y or n e c e s s i t y w h i c h produces the p e r i p e t y i s g e n e r a l l y a c o n f l i c t w i t h i n the c h a r a c t e r o f the h e r o : a c o n f l i c t between two emotions, between moderation and v i o l e n t i m p u l s e , between a d u t y t o o n e s e l f and a d u t y t o a h i g h e r i d e a l . Sometimes the p e r i p e t y i n v o l v e s the c o n t r a r y f o r t u n e s o f two p r o t a g o n i s t s , and the p r o b a b i l i t y w h i c h produces i t a r i s e s from a c o n f l i c t between t h e s e personages. I n e i t h e r c a s e , the change of f o r t u n e w i l l 23 y A r i s t o t l e , A r t o f P o e t r y , p. 46. 48 be seen t o be the r e s u l t of an i n t e r a c t i o n o f c h a r a c t e r and event. G i v e n what we have l e a r n e d o f the hero's c h a r a c t e r i n the f i r s t p a r t o f the p l a y , h i s b e h a v i o u r i s such as we might expect i n a c e r t a i n s i t u a t i o n . The change o f f o r t u n e i s u s u a l l y from good t o bad i n t r a g e d y ; but i n Hardy's p l a y s i t can be t h e o p p o s i t e ; o r i t can be d i f f e r e n t f o r each of two p r o t a g o n i s t s . A c c o r d i n g t o A r i s t o t l e , the p e r i p e t y may or may not be accompanied by a d i s c o v e r y , which i s , "as the v e r y word i m p l i e s , a change from i g n o r a n c e t o knowledge, and t h u s t o e i t h e r l o v e 24 o r h a t e , i n the personage marked f o r good o r e v i l f o r t u n e " . B u t , as H. T. B a r n w e l l has p o i n t e d o u t , w h i l e i t i s not n e c e s s a r y t h a t t h e c h a r a c t e r s of the t r a g e d y a c h i e v e awareness, i t i s e s s e n t i a l t h a t the s p e c t a t o r s become e n l i g h t e n e d . The a c t i o n t a k e s p l a c e i n the mind of the s p e c t a t o r . ... But t h i s a c t i o n i s not conveyed t o us l o g i c a l l y o r i n t e l l e c t u a l l y , but e m o t i o n a l l y . The s p e c t a t o r i n the t h e a t r e e x p e r i e n c e s t h e p l a y on t h r e e l e v e l s . F i r s t , he i s made a t l e a s t p a r t i a l l y aware of the r e a l s i t u a t i o n w h i l e the c h a r a c t e r s on the stage remain most of the time i n i g n o r a n c e : he can f o r e s e e t h e consequences o f t h e i r m i s t a k e s . Y e t , s e c o n d l y , he i s a t the same time i d e n t i f y i n g h i m s e l f w i t h t h e c h a r a c t e r s and f e e l i n g as t h e y do — w i t h them he shares hopes and f e a r s and d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t s . T h i s i s empathy, the r e s u l t o f t h e c h a r a c t e r s b e i n g , as A r i s t o t l e s a y s , men l i k e o u r s e l v e s . We p i t y them, we f e a r f o r them, but t h e s e emotions a r e not ends i n themselves — they a r e what b r i n g s us, t h i r d l y , t o awareness of t h e l i m i t a t i o n s o f our c o n d i t i o n , and t h a t awareness ... i s what c o n s t i t u t e s the T r a g i c . 2 4 IDid., P. 47. 25 t H. T. B a r n w e l l , The T r a g i c i n F r e n c h t r a g e d y . ( B e l f a s t , 1966), pp. 11-13. 49 Thus the audience stands at an i r o n i c distance from the stage i n that i t i s le s s surprised by the incidents of the plot than the hero i s : but i t i s involved i n the f i n a l discovery which constitutes the tragic action. It i s this awareness that enables the audience to see the pattern of events presented i n the tragedy. The pattern of the action of a tragedy by Hardy may be represented as a r i s i n g and f a l l i n g (or sometimes a f a l l i n g and r i s i n g ) movement about the central incident i n the intrigue. I f we consider Mel^agre from t h i s point of view, we w i l l note that the c r u c i a l scene i s that i n which the prize i s awarded to Atalante (111,2). This scene marks the high point of triumph and joy i n the play. Not only do the hunters celebrate the k i l l i n g of the boar but a l l , especially The"see, praise M^leagre's part i n the chase, thus underlining the insistence of the messenger's report i n the previous scene on M^leagre's fulfilment of his duty as king. But th i s scene also marks the beginning of the decline to the catastrophe. Meleagre shows signs of f a l l i n g i n love with Atalante, a development which had been prepared i n act two scene two by his appreciative praise of "ce beau te i n t d e l i c a t , doux et f a t a l aimant" (Meleagre. 412). His love sways his judgement, he i s le s s than impartial i n his apportionment of honour, a fact that the sharp-eyed Lincee quickly recognises: " l 1 a f f e c t i o n , l o i n de ce prix vainqueur, /Consacre volontiers a ses graces ton coeur" (Meleagre. 643-44). 50 P l e x i p e and Toxee a r e thus g i v e n cause f o r j e a l o u s y , and the m o t i v a t i o n i s p r o v i d e d f o r the f a l l i n g movement o f the a c t i o n i n t h e second p a r t o f the p l a y . Meleagre remains b l i n d t o the end t o the causes o f h i s d o w n f a l l ; i n h i s case t h e r e i s no "change from i g n o r a n c e t o knowledge". As f a r as Meleagre i s concerned, the audience i s more i n v o l v e d i n the d i s c o v e r y t h a n th e hero i s , and t h i s i s perhaps why Hardy chose t o end h i s t r a g e d y w i t h a scene i n which A l t e e comments on the a c t i o n . We may c a l l i t p o i n t i n g the m o r a l o f the s t o r y , f o r , i n f a c t , A l t e e i s s i m p l y u n d e r l i n i n g the d i s c o v e r y t h a t the s p e c t a t o r s s h o u l d have made f o r themselves: t h a t c e r t a i n i l l - j u d g e d deeds can have f a t a l consequences f o r the agent. A s i m i l a r r i s i n g and f a l l i n g movement may be seen i n the a c t i o n o f l a Mort d ' A c h i l l e , a l t h o u g h the a n g l e o f a s c e n t and descent a r e s h a l l o w e r t h a n i n M j l e a g r e , and a p a r t i c u l a r resonance i s added because o f the g r e a t e r c o m p l e x i t y and n o b i l i t y o f A c h i l l e ' s c h a r a c t e r . A c h i l l e i s e s s e n t i a l l y a d m i r a b l e u n t i l he r e j e c t s t h e a d v i c e o f h i s f r i e n d s and s e t s up h i s own judgement a g a i n s t t h e i r recommendations o f prudence. He f a l l s v i c t i m t o T r o j a n p e r f i d y , but w i t h o u t becoming f u l l y aware o f the r e a s o n s f o r h i s d o w n f a l l . I n t h i s p l a y a l s o the mo r a l i s p o i n t e d i n the f i n a l scene d u r i n g the p a n e g y r i c on the h e r o . A j a x r e c a l l s t h a t A c h i l l e ' s r easons f o r w i s h i n g t o marry P o l i x e n e were based n ot merely on l o v e , but a l s o on a d e s i r e t o u n i t e t h e w a r r i n g n a t i o n s . The n o b l e r a s p e c t o f A c h i l l e ' s m o t i v a t i o n c r e a t e s a resonance which i s p r o l o n g e d 51 aft e r his death, for i t i s i n his wish to end the war that he approaches most closely to true piety. However, peace can only return with the destruction of the e v i l that i s Troy, and the mission of Ulysse to fetch Pyrrhus serves to project the action of the play into the future. The action of these two plays i s marked by a r i s i n g followed by a f a l l i n g movement, and i t might be assumed that a play that ends with the death of the hero presents the tragic action par excellence. But the resonance that lingers after A c h i l l e ' s death assures us that the noblest part of the hero's character has not been destroyed, while the death of M£l£agre i s exemplary i n a quite d i f f e r e n t way: he has become a non-hero who has l o s t sight of h i s ideals and f o r that reason must die. The action of three other plays may also be represented by a f a l l i n g and a r i s i n g movement. In his pride and rage, Coriolan descends to the cruelty of wishing to destroy his country, his friends and h i s family. Volomnie reminds him of his p a t r i o t i c and f i l i a l obligations, and Coriolan 1s discovery of his error coincides with the peripety (IV,4). In the f i n a l act Coriolan makes amends for his past mistakes. He i s k i l l e d as a r e s u l t , but peace i s restored and the greatness of Rome assured. The action of Timoclee i s comparable, although Alexandre does not f a l l as f a r below his own ideals as Coriolan. Thebes may be controlled by an e v i l form of government which deserves to be eradicated, but Alexandre, divided between the need to punish r e b e l l i o n and the need to rule j u s t l y , allows personal 52 considerations to impair his judgement. After the many hesitations which occupy the f i r s t h a l f of the play, he decides that the c i t y s h a l l he destroyed with the utmost cruelty (IV,1). This i s the peripety. After addressing his troops, Alexandre does not appear on stage again u n t i l the f i n a l scene of the play. Already he i s beginning to regret his hasty decision, but i t i s only i n l i s t e n i n g to Timoclee's story that he comes to a f u l l awareness of his error. By his treatment of her he reverses the downswing of the action. The ensuing r i s i n g movement i s continued i n his decision to make immediate preparations for the invasion of Persia, and i t w i l l reach i t s culmination i n l a Mort de Daire. Alexandre i s the main character of the play: the Timoclee thread of plot i s introduced mainly to allow Alexandre to reverse the movement of the action and to bring about the discovery. Timoclee closes on a r i s i n g note, with the promise of a glorious future f o r the hero. La Mort d'Alexandre i s also "open-ended", but the f i n a l tone i s more i r o n i c . The f a l l i n g movement of the action can be plotted i n the f i r s t three acts: Alexandre's acceptance of f l a t t e r y ( I ); his anger at Apollodore's consultation of the oracles and his threat to torture the second Mage ( I I ) ; his cruel treatment of Denis ( I I I ) . A l l these actions are unworthy of the i d e a l of kingship that Alexandre i s tr y i n g to a t t a i n , but which he i s prevented from achieving by the impulsiveness of his nature. After his poisoning, the action begins an upward movement as Alexandre, aware of the nobler 53 imperative and of the lack of time at his disposal, st r i v e s to establish the well-being and security of his subjects. The play might be considered to continue i t s upward movement as Perdice repeats Alexandre's dying wish that the kingdom remain united u n t i l his son can carry on Alexandre's reign. In fact, the audience remembers how quickly the generals f e l l out, and how soon afte r his death Alexandre's dream of empire and universal peace was dissolved. A feature of the plays studied above i s that there i s only one central character. In Hardy's other tragedies there are at le a s t two main characters, and the action of t h i s group of plays may be represented as a simultaneous r i s i n g and f a l l i n g movement i n which there i s a double outcome, unfortunate for one pro-26 tagonist, fortunate for the other . In at least two of these plays yet greater glory i s held i n prospect for the surviving protagonist. This i s most obviously the case i n l a Mort de  Daire. The Persian king i s not presented as a bad monarch, but the action shows the steady decline of his fortunes u n t i l his death. The fortunes of Alexandre, on the other hand, are c l e a r l y i n the ascendant, and i f the l i n e s of movement cross at any point, i t i s immediately aft e r the battle of Arbela, when the t r a i t o r s begin t h e i r p l o t t i n g to overthrow Daire (111,1). This may be considered the peripety. For Alexandre there can be no discovery; he has always been conscious of his own greatness ?6 A r i s t o t l e does not consider this to be a suitable ending for tragedy: pp. 51-52. 5 4 and f i t n e s s to r u l e . For Daire, the discovery comes just before h i s death, with his acceptance of Alexandre as a worthy successor and the placing of the destiny of his empire i n the Macedonian's hands. The play ends with Alexandre's fortunes s t i l l on the upward l i n e of movement. In the same way, Didon se s a c r i f i a n t ends with the promise of greater glory for Aenee, while Didon, on the descending l i n e of movement, commits suicide. The peripety i s much clearer i n th i s play than i n l a Mort de Daire: i t i s the scene i n act three when the hero and heroine confront one another; while the appearance of Mercure makes Aen£e conscious of his destiny ( I V , l ) . Didon never becomes f u l l y aware of the reasons f o r her downfall, which i s why the Choeur and the messenger append a moral i n the l a s t scene of the play. The action of the play l i e s not i n Didon*s suicide, but i n Aen^e's decision to leave. Aen£e i s thus the central figure of the action, Didon's fate being i n a sense peripheral, since i t depends on his decision. The tragedy i s not primarily concerned with Didon's death, but with the problem of saying farewell. The action of Alceste might be considered to be projected into the future, i n that the steady upward progress of Hercule towards apotheosis can be followed throughout the action, and w i l l be achieved af t e r the play has ended. By contrast, the chain of events involving Admete and Pluton i s quite complex, since each of the kings i s subjected to a r i s i n g and f a l l i n g movement of the action. For Admete, i t f a l l s when Alceste dies and he despairs of recovering her; i t r i s e s when his wife i s 55 returned to him. For Pluton, the action r i s e s as Alceste and Thesee come under his sway and f a l l s when they are taken from him. The peripety for both kings i s the same incident, the taking of Alceste from one king and the restoring of her to the other. This peripety i s brought about by Hercule, which i s why his thread of the story i s central to the action of the play. No discovery i s made by either Admete or Pluton: the character of neither king changes or develops i n the play; and Hercule has always been aware of his f i t n e s s to be d e i f i e d . I t w i l l be noted that, i n thi s play alone, the peripety does not arise from some f a u l t of character; t h i s i s perhaps why Hardy considered the play to be a tragi-comedy rather than a tragedy. Hercule i s a deus ex machina: at the moment he touches upon the destinies of the two kings t h e i r fortunes change. Any discovery the audience may make i s l i k e l y to spring from a subconscious response to this messianic figure, fo r the central action of the play i s the hero's descent into h e l l and his symbolic defeat of death. In the plays we have just considered, the surviving protagonist has been on the upward l i n e of movement; i n Mariamne i t i s Herode, the protagonist on the descending l i n e , who survives while the heroine dies. It i s perhaps for thi s reason that Mariamne i s generally considered the most "trag i c " of Hardy's tragedies. Though the outcome i s reversed, the l i n e s of movement of the action are the same as i n the other plays. Herode, on the descending l i n e , has committed every crime of tyranny and f i n a l l y murders his wife. Mariamne, on the ascending 56 l i n e , has become increasingly outraged by the e v i l and corruption represented by H£rode without having made a stand against him. F i n a l l y she combats th i s e v i l openly, and i s destroyed i n the process, i n the same way that Coriolan ! is:"1 ~d:e.strdy.e.di i n his violent reversal of the plunge into s i n . The peripety for Herode and Mariamne, the point at which th e i r two l i n e s of movement touch, i s the confrontation between them i n the fourth act. Awareness of his own e v i l comes, at least i n part, to Herode aft e r the messenger's report i n the f i n a l scene of the play, a discovery which unhinges his mind. The play remains esse n t i a l l y moral: Hardy i s not c y n i c a l l y showing us the triumph of e v i l . Mariamne's execution i s , paradoxically, a fortunate outcome f o r her, i n that she has constantly sought death as the only release from marriage to a man she abhors. By contrast, Herode i s the true victim of his own fa u l t y decisions, and i s thus the central character of the tragedy. The l a s t play to be considered i n t h i s group i s Panthee. which could well be subtitled l a Clemence de Cirus, for i t i s t h i s aspect of the intrigue which forms the central action of the play. Admittedly, Cirus v i r t u a l l y ceases to take an active part i n the play a f t e r the f i r s t scene of act three, but i t i s his decision i n th i s scene which provides the peripety both f o r himself and for Panthee. Cirus i s presented with an opportunity to practise the precepts of clemency he has advocated i n a sit u a t i o n which affects him closely. After a moment's hesitation, he chooses the merciful course of action. He has moved 57 d e f i n i t i v e l y on to the r i s i n g l i n e of movement, and, l i k e Aenee, he ceases from t h i s moment to be the protagonist of a drama and moves into the ranks of the semi-divine heroes. Peripety and discovery are simultaneous f o r Cirus. The secondary action, involving Panthee, takes a downward swing at t h i s same point, f o r the heroine's sense of gratitude towards Cirus causes her to compromise her principles and, what i s worse for the outcome, to involve Abradate i n her f a l l . This leads to the f i n a l catastrophe. For Panthee, of course, the discovery does not occur u n t i l she hears of the death of her husband. V/hat awareness i s the audience intended to arrive at? Presumably Hardy does not wish us to condemn Panthee for choosing to swear allegiance to such a worthy king as Cirus. Perhaps we are expected to conclude that to make the correct choice for the wrong reasons can s t i l l lead to disaster. The unity of action i n Hardy's tragedies now becomes apparent. It i s organised about a central peripety. Everything that precedes i t i s a preparation for the change of fortune, and this preparation takes place i n the character of the pro-tagonist. Everything that follows i s a dir e c t consequence of the peripety. The protagonist i s presented either i m p l i c i t l y or e x p l i c i t l y with the choice of a course of action to follow, and the fortunate or unfortunate outcome depends on the choice that he makes. Furthermore, th i s choice i s defined by the ideals that he professes, while the p o t e n t i a l i t i e s of his own 5 8 character determine the extent to which he attains or f a l l s short of these ideals . The choice i s not necessarily made ra t i o n a l l y : a Meleagre or an A c h i l l e reacts emotionally to a certain s i t u a t i o n . The protagonist may attempt, l i k e Coriolan, Alexandre or Daire, to redress the effects of a wrong choice when i t i s too l a t e to save his own l i f e . The r i s e or f a l l of the protagonist sometimes en t a i l s , or i s juxtaposed to, a contrary movement of the action for another character, so that i n some tragedies there i s a double outcome. Lanson saw c l e a r l y enough i n which area of Hardy's tragedies th e i r dramatic power l i e s . "II decouvre l e tragique des volontes en c o n f l i t , l ' i n t e r e t dramatique de l a psychologie, i l s'apercoit que 1*emotion s'accroit et que 1'action s'anime quand l e s victimes lu t t e n t , et quand l e s sentiments sont combattus par d'autres sentiments" 2 7. We have observed with what generally sure judgement Hardy selects and arranges his source material, and with what a good sense of the dramatic he organises the stage spectacle. He i s inevitably i n h i b i t e d to some extent by the undramatic devices of the conventions of Renaissance tragedy, but he manages notwithstanding to present the action d i r e c t l y to the spectator through the stage spectacle, rather than through reports. Hardy was not alone among contemporary dramatists i n thi s endeavour, but what i s s i g n i f i c a n t i n his achievement i s his subordination 27 Lanson, Esquisse. p. 46. 59 of the spectacle to a d e f i n i t e s t r u c t u r a l pattern which can be seen i n a l l his tragedies. Good fortune or disaster for the hero depend on a moment of decision, and, what i s of c a p i t a l importance f o r the development of seventeenth-century tragedy, the motivations for the action are situated firmly i n the psychology of the characters. CHAPTER TWO THEME: KING-SHIP Li t e r a r y historians have assumed from the seemingly gratuitous construction of Hardy's plays that there could not be a unifying theme i n his theatre. It has been recognised that, as f a r as his tragedies are concerned, Hardy stands some-what apart from the main stream of dramatic production at t h i s period, which developed, i f one may generalise, the romanesque themes of sexual love and revenge i n an atmosphere of b r u t a l i t y and violence. Rigal suggests that romantic or sexual love i s an important and by no means unusual theme i n several of the tragedies; but he takes note of " l a Mort de Daire et l a Mort d'Alexandre 9tragedies sans romanesque et sans amour; Coriolan. depourvue aussi d*amour et consacree a l a g l o r i f i c a t i o n de l a piete f i l i a l e ; Mariamne. dont quelques mots malsonnants ne doivent pas nous f a i r e meconnaitre l a noble severite; Panthee surtout, que 1'affection conjugale l a plus pure anime tout entiere""*'. To t h i s l i s t I would add Alceste. a play not c l a s s i -f i e d as a tragedy by Rigal; thus romantic love i s not an important theme i n more than half of Hardy's tragedies. Lancaster i s of the opinion that, though sexual love may be the most important element of Hardy's tragedies, " i n Daire and Coriolan i t i s completely lacking and i n Alexandre i t i s of very minor s i g n i -ficance"; i n these plays ambition i s stressed, while the desire for revenge, patriotism and admiration are also to be found 1 Rigal, Hardy, p. 668. 61 among the thematic material . A more recent study of the French drama of th i s period sees i n vengeance the predominant theme of tragedy, tracing i t s persistence from Aeschylus onwards; yet the author concedes that "les pieces dans lesquelles Hardy a u t i l i s e [ce] theme d'une maniere s i g n i f i c a t i v e et originale sont peu nombreuses" . Beraneck despaired of finding any unity of thought at a l l : "Hardy est un poete absolument impersonnel, un compilateur de premiere force; i l rend l e s id£es q u ' i l a prises, t e l l e s quelles, sans se donner l a peine de l e s marquer de cette empreinte originale qui f a i t l e charme et l a grandeur d'un poete"^. Without claiming "grandeur", or even great o r i g i n a l i t y f o r Hardy, vie would suggest that under th i s apparent inconsistency of thought there i s a single broad theme which runs through a l l h is tragedies, sometimes subordinated to other themes, or apparently so, but always present. This general theme might be called dianoia i n the Aristotelean sense: "thought ... i s shown i n a l l ["the characters] say when proving or disproving 5 some pa r t i c u l a r point, or enunciating some universal proposition" . We must consider, then, the moralistic and polemical attitudes p Lancaster, History. I, 1, p. 49; cf. A. Adam, Hi s t o i r e . I, pp. 194-195. Forsyth, Tragedie f'rancaise. p. 555. 4 Be>aneck, Seneque et Hardy, p. 15. 15 Art of Poetry, p. 39; cf. Northrop Frye, Anatomy of C r i t i c i s m . (Atheneum, New York, 1966), p. 52. 62 and utterances of the characters, which involves a study, not of the character as an individual (this w i l l be treated i n the next chapter), but of the conception he has of his own role i n the play, his expressed motives for his course of action. A d i a l e c t i c w i l l thus be established between the main characters, from which may be deduced the broad philosophical basis for tragedy. One may approach a study of t h i s theme by considering the p r i n c i p a l roles i n Hardy's tragedies. The eponymous heroes of six of the tragedies are of royal lineage (Didon, Meleagre, Mariamne, Daire, Alexandre, Alceste); i n three of the remaining works kings take important r o l e s . In Timoclee. Alexandre plays a more extensive part than the heroine; Cirus appears i n four of the f i v e acts of Panthee; while Agamemnon and Priam have s i g n i f i c a n t roles i n l a Mort d'Achille. The action of Coriolan alone, set i n republican Rome, i s not concerned with kings. Several of the tragedies involve more than one royal personage: Aenee i n Didon se  s a c r i f i a n t , Herode i n Mariamne. Alexandre i n l a Mort de Daire. Admete, and even Pluton, i n Alceste. both Agamemnon and Priam i n l a Mort d'Achille. Now, there i s nothing unusual i n Hardy's choice of kings as the p r i n c i p a l characters of tragedy; on t h i s aspect of the drama a well-established t r a d i t i o n , hallowed by theoreticians and dramatists a l i k e , had come down from the Renaissance theatre and was to remain active long a f t e r Hardy's death. The confron-tat i o n of kings within one play i s , however, les s usual, and i s 63 a d i s t i n c t i v e feature of Hardy's tragedies. Furthermore, the c o n f l i c t between the various monarchs takes place on a l e v e l of p o l i t i c a l ideology; i n no case i s r i v a l r y i n love a motivating factor, and only i n the case of Coriolan i s personal revenge the dominating reason for action. Even Coriolan i s the victim of a struggle for power between factions i n Rome, and to this extent the play i s a p o l i t i c a l drama. In Alceste and l a Mort  de Daire the contrast between p o l i t i c a l ideologies forms the basis of the whole c o n f l i c t of the drama; i n the other plays the development of character or a struggle on an apparently more personal l e v e l between the characters takes place against a background of p o l i t i c a l a c t i v i t y i n which a l l of the protagonists are involved. It i s t h i s p o l i t i c a l factor which I see as the unifying feature of Hardy's tragedies, and i t i s t h i s theme that I propose to examine i n the following pages. This study may be divided into two parts, two aspects of the broad theme of kingship. There i s the t r a d i t i o n a l contrast expressed i n countless sententiae i n Renaissance drama between good kingship and' tyranny. Compared with his precursors, Hardy makes sparing uses of such sentences , and does not overburden his plays with abstract discussions of kingship. Rather he gives us discussions of the problems of kingship a r i s i n g from a p a r t i c u l a r situation, thus attempting to render i n dramatic terms t h i s t r a d i t i o n a l subject. The ide o l o g i c a l contrast between ^ Theophile, Au Sieur Hardy; "Detestant l a pointe et l e fard/ Qui rompt l e s forces a l a Muse", i n Hardy, Theatre. I, 11. 64 the good king and the tyrant i s sharply defined and well suited to dramatic treatment. The second aspect of t h i s p o l i t i c a l theme i s , however, of a more equivocal nature: i t i s the contrast between legitimacy and the right of conquest, between the natural prince and the usurper, an aspect which i s susceptible of f i n e r variations of treatment. For the natural prince may also be a tyrant: i s i t therefore lawful to depose him? Is the conquering prince always to be opposed by the people subjected to his rule? How can the usurper l e g i t i m i s e his regime? These questions seem to be of romanesque and thus 7 more modern o r i g i n , and are connected with the concept of absolutism, a topic of much concern for Hardy's contemporaries. I f we now pass to an examination of the principles of good kingship and th e i r corruption by the tyrant, we note how, i n terms of the drama, the tyrant i s c l e a r l y a compelling stage type. Though h i s role may be reduced to a few essential and eas i l y recognisable features, because of his position of authority he w i l l take a decisive part i n the action. His deeds are, moreover, calculated to provoke a strong emotional reaction i n the audience, since he w i l l pose the immediate threat to the pathetic hero-type favoured by the Renaissance dramatists, and to the "romantic" hero of many early seventeenth-century 7 Cf. Maurice Baudin, The Profession of king i n seventeenth- century French drama. (Baltimore, 1941), p. 34. 65 dramas . Hardy's concept of t h i s role remains ess e n t i a l l y that of his predecessors and contemporaries. The tyrant i s the man who values power fo r i t s own sake, and w i l l do anything to r e t a i n i t . This p r i n c i p l e i s expressed most c l e a r l y i n general terms by Besse: Le p l a i s i r de regner, seule et vraie ambroisie Qui repait Jupiter entre l e s immortels, Rend ses- effets i c i , chez l e s monarques, t e l s : L'ardente a f f e c t i o n vouee au diademe N'abandonne les r o i s dans l e sepulchre meme; Tous i l s perdront plut6t l a lumiere du jour Que de diminuer cet id6latre amour. (Daire. 694-700) As an example of the application of the p r i n c i p l e of the l u s t f o r power to a p a r t i c u l a r situation, we may take the accusation l e v e l l e d by L i c i n i e at Coriolan. Speaking on behalf of the Roman people, L i c i n i e claims that nous connaissons ton humeur deloyale Briguer l a tyrannie, ardemment l ' a f f e c t e r , Que l e f r e i n de nos l o i s ne savait arreter; Qui, du peuple ennemi, a f f a i b l i s sa puissance, D^sirant l e courber sous ton obeissance. (Coriolan. 182-86) The appeal of such an accusation, whether true or f a l s e , to the assembled Roman people i s apparent: i t i s inte r e s t i n g to notice that, i n the subsequent action of the play, Coriolan i n fact displays some of the characteristics of the tyrant, p r i n c i p a l l y cruelty. Hardy gives his clearest embodiment of Nabuchodonosor, i n Gamier's Les Juifves. i s perhaps the best-known representative of t h i s type i n sixteenth-century French tragedy. One may also c i t e the king i n Theophile's Pyrame et  Thisbe. Tiribaze i n Schelandre's Tyr et Sidon, and the wielders of authority i n countless tragi-comedies of the early seven-teenth century. 66 the type of the tyrant i n the role of Herode, and, i n soliloquy at the beginning of Mariamne, the king expresses the main pri n c i p l e s of h i s conduct. F i r s t among these i s h i s seizure and maintenance of power: Herode has Tous obstacles franchi, toutes d i f f i c u l t e s , Pour atteindre l e f a l t e envie" d'un empire. (Mariamne. 84-85) A mythological reference frequently made by Hardy i s to the monster-slaying exploits of Hercules. Alexandre claims that, i n punishing t r a i t o r s to his reign, he would have to be another Hercules dealing with a hydra-headed monster (Alexandre. 719-20). Cirus also refers to this labour of Hercules, sent by Jupiter to r i d the world of the scourge of tyrants, "cet hydre qui p u l l u l e avec l 1ambition" (Panthee. 12). Among Hardy's more curious creations i s the role of Pluton, who i s depicted as the r u l e r of a conventional earthly kingdom, s t r i v i n g to defend the f r o n t i e r s against the incursions of Hercule, "ennemi des tyrans, et vengeur de leurs crimes" (Alceste. 918). Pluton himself i s presented as a tyrant who r e a l i s e s that he can expect no w i l l i n g support from his subjects i n defending his kingdom. 0 f r i v o l e conseil, que 1'ennemi j'attende, Presumant commander ceux que l a peur commande, Ceux de qui l e courage, aux talons deVale", Voudraient mon ennemi dans l e trSne i n s t a l l . (Alceste. 881-84) Charon remarks that he has overheard the shades, who are held i n subjection by force ("de force obeissantes"), muttering about r e b e l l i o n . He has made a note of the names of the r i n g -leaders, so that they may be punished as soon as the danger to the state has passed (Alceste. 985-89). 67 The exercise of power by fear and by force i s t y p i c a l of the tyrant, and i s presented as a theme i n several of Hardy's tragedies. During the important discussion of kingship i n l a Mort de Daire, the cynical Besse claims that a king w i l l stop short of no crime i n maintaining his authority: En matiere d'etat, l e s pires actions Qui l u i peuvent s e r v i r sont des perfections. (Daire. 631-32) Cratere advises Alexandre that, on p r i n c i p l e , a king should begin his reign by s t r i k i n g fear into the hearts of h i s subjects, l e s t they think the monarch i s a f r a i d of them (Timoclee. 95-100). By contrast, the ghost of Parmenion, i n enumerating Alexandre's crimes of i n j u s t i c e and ingratitude towards his older generals and advisers, claims that the king has now become a tyrant, r u l i n g by fear and earning the hatred of his subjects, "tyran qui plante aux siens l a haine avec l ' e f f r o i " (Alexandre. 24). In t h i s respect as i n others, Hardy's most f u l l y developed example of the tyrant i s Herode. When Pherore and Salome insinuate that Mariamne i s i n c i t i n g his subjects to revolt, Herode quotes, as proof that he can keep his people i n order, examples of his concept of j u s t i c e : Ma j u s t i c e exercee est un mors suffisant, Des exemples passes rendu sage a present, (Mariamne. 255-56) the "ma" underlining the personal aspect of t h i s concept. In the second act, Mariamne complains b i t t e r l y of the hardship of being married to such a tyrant. The nourrice t r i e s to defend the king; his royal t i t l e assures his deeds of a certain v i r t u e . 68 Mariamne counters this argument with sarcasm: "sa vertu consistant /Aux meurtres perp^tr^s dessur l e s innocents" (Mariamne. 475-76). The tyrant exercises his cruel authority by means of fear. Thus he works upon the passions of his subjects, for he himself i s subject to his passions. The effect of t h i s subjection i s underscored by Cirus, who, i n urging his troops to pursue and destroy the Lydians, compares the enemy to Cerfs, que conduit un cerf nourri dans les delices, Un voluptueux prince, eselave de tous vices. (Panthee. 21-22) The f i r s t scene of act two of Didon se s a c r i f i a n t presents Iarbe "embrase de fureur, de vengeance et de haine" (Didon. 285), and his emotional outburst may be contrasted with the s e l f -control displayed by Aenee, a comparison between the two kings which i s not, however, developed i n the play. Plexipe, outraged by Meleagre's awarding the trophy of the chase to Atalante, decries Cet inique tyran que l'univers abhorre, Et qu'un aveugle feu de luxure devore, (Meleagre. 709-10) and, while Atalante defends the "volonte l i b e r a l e " of the king, Toxee sees i n t h i s same deed "un p l a i s i r tyrannique" (M^l^agre. 827, 830). The Choeur d'Atheriiens claims that Philippe received the just reward (assassination) of the king who cannot control his passions and thus becomes an oppressor (Timoclee. 885-88). The tyrant w i l l not escape the vengeance either of men or of the gods: the ghost of Parmenion warns Alexandre of the fate 69 that i s i n store f o r him. Tu te rendis l e c i e l i n f l e c h i b l e des l'heure ... Que, seigneur absolu de mille nations, Tu restas neanmoins serf de tes passions. (Alexandre. 13, 15-16) Alexandre dies at the hands of Antipatre and his sons, and Antipatre regards himself as the instrument of fate (Alexandre. 265-76). Regicide i n such circumstances i s not sacrilegious, but condoned. The nourrice. try i n g to dissuade Altee from avenging the death of her brothers, argues that "Jupiter seul punit l e s offences des r o i s " (Mteleagre, 1071). However, Altee carries out her revenge, seeing i n her action the hand of divine r e t r i b u t i o n at work ("0 favorable c i e l , que ta justice est grandeJ" Meleagre. 1242), and i n the death of Meleagre a warning Af i n de r e t e n i r sous l e f r e i n du devoir Quiconque l e permet pardessus son pouvoir, Quiconque ne s a i t pas comme un sceptre on manie. (Meleagre. 1247-49) Cirus claims that the subjects of a bad monarch can and should rebel against his authority: Aussi pour mon regard, je tiens qu'un populaire Peut ldgitimement, ains q u ' i l se doit d i s t r a i r e Du servage importun d'un indigne seigneur Qui veut de son empire ensevelir l'honneur, Qui ne craint d'employer l ' a u t o r i t e royale Es p l a i s i r s dissolus d'une vie brutale. (Panth£e. 81-86) The ghost of Aristobule promises Herode that his fate w i l l serve as "un affreux exemplaire" (Mariamne. 65) to kings who might model the i r conduct on h i s , and i t i s to Herode that we should once again look f o r the outstanding example of the pernicious effect of the passions on kingship. In the t r i a l 70 scene (act three), we see the extremes to which they lead him. Angered because Mariamne has refused " l e devoir d'une femme au mari" (Mariamne, 716), he i s prepared to believe her g u i l t y of pl o t t i n g to poison him and demands to know her motives. Mariamne unwittingly implicates Soeme, and Herode summons his chancellor and the Eunuque. his confidant, to be brought before him. Soeme does not deny that he revealed Herode's secrets to Mariamne, and the Eunuque confirms t h i s ; but both indignantly refute the accusation that the chancellor and the queen were g u i l t y of adultery. Mariamne would be incapable of such conduct. However, Herode i s not r e a l l y concerned with the infringement of his royal authority and the disclosure of his. arrets, but only with his personal relations with Mariamne. Acting upon cruel impulse, and regardless of truth or ju s t i c e , he orders that Soeme and the Eunuque be tortured u n t i l they confess to the adultery and then be executed. Salome had e a r l i e r i n the play advised He"rode that his infatuation with Mariamne was p r e j u d i c i a l to his function as king. Though Salome's motives are suspect to say the least, her advice, taken at i t s face value, i s sound; Herode i s Pris d'une frenesie aveugle, qui messied A votre age, en quiconque en un tr&ne se sied, Maitrise des bouillons d'une jeunesse f o l l e , Sur l e theatre humain jouant un moindre role On vous excuserait; mais monarque v i e i l l a r d , Votre honneur, votre vie, et nous tous en hasard ... (Mariamne. 207-12) Pherore echoes his s i s t e r ' s words when, afte r Mariamne's condemnation to death, he praises Herode's decision, by which he has regained mastery over himself and brought security to 71 the state. Quels voeux n'avons-nous f a i t s , de crainte retenus, Que Mars ne s'endormit au sein d'une Venus? Que l e s allechements de sa beaute sorciere Regagnassent sur vous leur puissance premiere, Coup qui n'importerait, pardonnant 1'attentat, Que de votre ruine, et c e l l e de l ' ^ t a t . (Mariamne. 1425-30) Herode has, i n fact, demonstrated complete lack of s e l f -control i n his treatment of Mariamne, but Pherore's sycophantic tone i n these remarks suits him well i n his role as f l a t t e r e r . It i s obvious that the f l a t t e r e r i s important i n th i s context. The king wields supreme power: he depends nevertheless for information and advice upon his counsellors. Such a s i t u -ation i s bound to encourage those ministers anxious for personal Q advancement or f e a r f u l for t h e i r heads . The tyrant, swayed by his emotions and anxious to hear only praise of his judgement, i s naturally more l i k e l y to be influenced by f l a t t e r y than other kings. The relationship of Herode and Pherore i s by no means unique, either i n Hardy's theatre or i n that of his predecessors and contemporaries. Panthee i s a f r a i d that her complaint about Araspe's behaviour w i l l f a l l on deaf ears, since Araspe i s Cirus* favourite and confidant and a word of f l a t t e r y from him w i l l sway the king's judgement (Panthee. 404-08). Priam, having given his unwilling consent to his sons' treacherous plan to Q Cf. Boursault, Esope a l a cour. I I , 5: "Les r o i s et l e s f l a t t e u r s £tant de meme date, / I I n'est dans l'univers aucun r o i qu'on ne f l a t t e . " (Cited by Baudin, Profession of king, p. 103). 72 murder A c h i l l e , has to l i s t e n to the fulsome f l a t t e r y of his wisdom by Deiphobe, who acclaims i n the king the second founder of Troy and the restorer of the c i t y ' s glory ( A c h i l l e . 421-27). Despite the ghost of Parmenion's warning to Alexandre that he has so f a r become a slave to his passions "jusques a. t'enivrer du venin des f l a t t e u r s " (Alexandre. 19), and that a dire fate awaits him, the king i s only too w i l l i n g to accept the praises of Perdice i n the scene which follows. Maurice Baudin refers to the phenomenon i n seventeenth-century drama of the " s h i f t i n g of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y " for e v i l acts from the king to a minister — a consequence of the heightened sense of decorum surrounding the king i n seventeenth-century l i t e r a t u r e 1 ^ . Hardy does not temper his picture of the king's role with nuances of this sort; his monarchs are i n general responsible for t h e i r own decisions, good or bad. As Baudin points out, Herode may attempt, i n the f i n a l act of Mariamne. to s h i f t r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for the death of the queen to Salome and Pherore, but i n fact Mariamne i s condemned because of Herode's suspicions of her adultery, not because of the accu-sation of poisoning. Priam i s depicted not so much as a bad king, but rather as a weak one, who, i n face of the arguments of Paris and Deiphobe, f i n a l l y abrogates a l l authority and r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for the murder of A c h i l l e . "Priam regrette l a faute q u ' i l a commise; plus l e moment de l a trahison approche, 1 0 Profession of king, pp. 31-32; cf. E r i c h Auerbach, Mimesis. trans. Willard Trask, (New York, 1957), pp. 334-36. 73 plus i l est torture par l a honte et l a douleur. Au moment ou ses f i l s vont p a r t i r pour l e temple, i l l e s supplie de renoneer a un acte execrable, qui a t t i r e r a tot ou tard l a vengeance du 11 c i e l " . A l l e z , contre mon gre un meurtre je permets Qui saignera, venge, dessus nous a jamais; Remuez les enfers, l e c i e l , l a terre et l'onde, Seul je vais devorer mon angoisse profonde. (A c h i l l e . 1215-18) Agamemnon, favouring rigorous treatment of A c h i l l e , accepts the advice of the majority of his fellow commanders that the hero be treated gently and with sympathy, and asks Nestor to bring A c h i l l e before the council on the following day to explain his intentions ( A c h i l l e . 291-98). That Agamemnon's decision i s correct i s shown by the truculence of A c h i l l e when questioned by his peers: he alone i s a disruptive element among the Greek leaders ( A c h i l l e . 693-704). In the f i r s t scene of Timoclee. Alexandre i s presented with opposing arguments by Cratere and Perdice, but the king alone i s responsible for the choice of the course of action which leads to the catastrophe. In l a Mort de Daire, Alexandre's advisers are a l l agreed upon the l i n e of action to follow, and the king merely has to choose between the more daring or the more prudent course. By contrast, Daire has authority taken away from him by the conspirators when he refuses to act against his p r i n c i p l e s ; unlike Priam he retains his sense of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y even though he i s no longer able to act i n accordance with i t . Perdice and Antigone f l a t t e r 1 1 Rigal, Hardy, p. 322. 74 Alexandre i n l a Mort d'Alexandre. but t h e i r advice cannot affe c t the outcome of the play, which has already been i r -reversibly determined by the king's previous tyrannical decisions. Both Achate and Palinure bolster Aenee's decision i n Didon se  s a c r i f i a n t to leave Carthage and establish his kingdom i n I t a l y . Didon herself shows complete lack of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y as she waits upon Aenee's decision; when she f i n a l l y does decide on a course of action (to destroy the Trojans), i t i s dictated by her emotions rather than by an objective assessment of the situ a t i o n (Didon, 1319-26). Admete agrees to Alceste*s decision to die instead of him, accepting her argument that i t i s the action of a responsible king (Alceste. 503-14). The tyrant Pluton, on the other hand, accepts the advice of Bhadamante and Charon i n dealing with the threat to his state, but, rather l i k e Priam, abrogates r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r the outcome: Vous auteurs en aurez l a premiere infamie, Et contre l e poison d'une langue ennemie, Opposez de rempart, j ' a t t e s t e r a i toujours Qu'en courage abondant je manquai de secours. (Alceste. 1013-16) In Panthee. the nourrice offers Cirus advice on how to deal with Araspe, but, as the king points out: Mon conseil ne depend de c e l u i d'une femme, Et ma juste censure, es actes de diffame, Marche d'ordre r£gle comme l' a s t r e du jour; (Panthee. 471-73) his decision w i l l be his own r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , made i n accordance with fixed p r i n c i p l e s . Meleagre neither asks for nor receives advice on the resolution of his problems. Thus the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y 75 for action rests squarely on the shoulders of the king i n Hardy's tragedies, and the outcome of the action depends on the principles followed by the king i n accepting t h i s r e s p o n s i b i l -i t y . The "p r i n c i p l e s " of tyranny have been examined above. The tyrant i s dominated by his passions. As f a r as his relationship with his function as king and with his subjects are concerned, we can see that, valuing power for i t s own sake and pursuing i t for his own ambitious ends, he w i l l keep his subjects i n submission by force, by the cruelty and i n j u s t i c e of his reign causing them to fear and hate him. Apparently so powerful, the tyrant w i l l paradoxically be open to the blandishments and cajolery of the sycophantic courtier; but Hardy makes i t clear that though the king may try to s h i f t r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for the catastrophe to his advisers, unless he relinquishes power he alone i s responsible f o r the outcome, good or e v i l , of his actions. Thus i t i s not treasonable for his subjects to r i s e up against the tyrant's rule, as i n the threatened revolt of the shades i n Alceste. and i t i s regicide i n name only to assassinate such leaders. As might be expected, the principles of good kingship are diametrically opposed to those of the tyrant. The l a t t e r values and exercises power fo r i t s own sake; by contrast, the good king sees as his highest function his duty to the state. It i s a duty of which Aenee i s f u l l y conscious. He has a 76 sacred trust to re-establish Troy i n It a l y , and i t i s of his deity to preserve his subjects that Achate and Palinure remind him i n the f i r s t scene of Didon se s a c r i f i a n t . "Comme Aen£e v o i t que l e bonheur ou l a perte d'un peuple dependent de l a resolution q u ' i l prendra, i l consulte, avant de l a prendre, 12 ses f i d e l e s compagnons Achate et Palinure" . In the opening scene of the play i n which be appears, Meleagre prays to Diane that his people not be punished for the sins of th e i r king: Diane, desormais f l e c h i b l e , prends p i t i e D'un peuple, pour son r o i trop longtemps chatie. ... Repete sur moi seul, comme plus criminel, Qui me voue au pays, l e d e l i t paternel. (Meleagre. 3-4; 27-28) The messenger, i n giving his report of the boar hunt, i n s i s t s upon the major part Meleagre plays i n k i l l i n g the beast. At the sight of the monster the other hunters had scattered; only the king had stood his ground, Meleagre, qu'epoint cette royale envie D'affranchir ses sujets, ou de perdre l a v i e . (Mdieagre. 529-30) Meldagre i s performing his royal duty, of which the Choeur de peuple and the Troupe de paysans had reminded him (Meleagre. 71-72; 109-12), to protect his subjects from external danger. Paris employs the same argument i n persuading Priam to permit the murder of A c h i l l e : Sire, rememorez l e devoir d'un bon prince, Sensible des premiers au mal de sa province, (A c h i l l e . 1161-62) 1 2 Ibid., p. 274. 77 and i s thus a b l e , by a s o r t of mora l b l a c k m a i l , t o persuade h i s f a t h e r t o agree t o a course o f a c t i o n o f which he d i s a p p r o v e s . B e f o r e the b a t t l e o f A r b e l a , Masee a s s u r e s D a i r e t h a t h i s t r o o p s r e c o g n i s e h i s q u a l i t i e s o f k i n g s h i p — h i s p a t e r n a l c o n c e r n f o r th e w e l l - b e i n g o f h i s s u b j e c t s , and h i s w i l l i n g n e s s t o l a y down h i s l i f e i n t h e i r s e r v i c e , Monarque en q u i r e l u i t l a pure a f f e c t i o n D'un pere v e r s ses f i l s mise a p e r f e c t i o n , V r a i p a s t e u r , q u i d a i g n e z , b e l l e e t r o y a l e e n v i e , Pour l e s p e u p les commis n'epargner v o t r e v i e . ( D a i r e . 339-42) I n s p i t e o f the a c c u s a t i o n s o f the ghost o f Parmenion and t h e reason s g i v e n by A n t i p a t r e and h i s sons f o r p l o t t i n g r e g i c i d e , A l e x a n d r e i s p r e s e n t e d as a k i n g m i n d f u l o f h i s duty t o p r o t e c t h i s p e o p l e . He i s n o t a f r a i d o f d e a t h ; h i s o n l y concern i s t o l e a v e h i s kingdom s a f e and s t r o n g , thus t o e s t a b l i s h the s e c u r i t y o f h i s s u b j e c t s : A u t r e a p p r e h e n s i o n ne t r o u b l e ma Constance, Ne m'agite 1 ' e s p r i t f a i b l e de r e s i s t a n c e , Que c e l l e qu'un bon p r i n c e e s t o b l i g e d ' a v o i r , Un p r i n c e q u i , v i v a n t , d d s i r e r a p o u r v o i r Aux d ^ s o r d r e s prevus ... S i l e d e s t i n j a l o u x ne donne a. son d e s i r De m e t t r e en s u r e t e ses peuples a. l o i s i r . ( A l e x a n d r e . 529-33; 535-36) B e f o r e A l e x a n d r e d e p a r t s f o r t h e f a t a l banquet, Roxane p l e a d s w i t h him t o heed the r e p e a t e d warnings he has r e c e i v e d , and t o c o n s i d e r the f a t e o f h i s s u b j e c t s , w h i c h i s the f i r s t c o ncern o f t h e good k i n g ( A l e x a n d r e . 761-64). Admete s i m i l a r l y has no p e r s o n a l r e g r e t s about d y i n g i n accordance w i t h the o r a c l e ; "pere commun des miens", he i s o n l y s o r r y t h a t he w i l l n o t see the kingdom he has r u l e d i n exemplary f a s h i o n a t t a i n i t s apogee 78 i n a golden age (Alceste. 233-44). Alceste appeals to Adniete's sense of duty i n persuading him to l i v e : \ 13 J'appellerais ta g l o i r e indiscrete offusquer , S i tu te pouvais f a i r e au p e r i l remarquer Qu'il f a l l u t racheter par l a mort volontaire Ton peuple, d'un servage ennemi t r i b u t a i r e : Au front d'une b a t a i l l e inconnu s'exposer, Lors un r o i ne se doit que l'honneur proposer: (Alceste. 503-08) but to submit to t h i s useless death i n response to an oracle i s to abdicate his r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s . In the soliloquy with which he opens the f i f t h act, Admete confesses that only his sense of duty towards his subjects has prevented h i s committing suicide to j o i n Alceste i n death (Alceste. 1125-30). The contrast between Admete1s attitude to kingship and that of Pluton i s apparent; the shades, unwilling subjects, are ready to revolt against Pluton at the f i r s t opportunity. On the other hand, E u r i p i l e assures Admete of the l o y a l t y and love of his people. I f destiny w i l l permit them to die i n place of the king, M i l l e se trouveront au l i e u d'une vietime, M i l l e vous souleront de leur sang magnanime, M i l l e de nous, voues au salut de leur r o i , Regarderont venir l a Parque sans e f f r o i . (Alceste. 453-56) Indeed, the good king cannot reign without the good w i l l of his subjects. Daire, i n refusing Patron's offer of protection against the t r a i t o r s , says that a l l his followers, including the innocent, would f e e l themselves equally under suspicion i f he What Alceste appears to mean here i s : "Je d i r a i s que tu offusquerais indiscretement ta g l o i r e ... " 79 sought refuge among the Greek mercenaries. The king would prefer to die "beaucoup plus que trembler sous l a haine des miens" (Daire. 941-48). He repeats these sentiments to his confidant Artabase: Mon espr i t , en cent parts contraires divise", Ne s a i t comment eteindre un discord a t t i s e , Et mon meilleur, helasl s e r a i t de ne plus etre, S i mal-voulu des miens, s i miserable maitre. (Daire. 1071-74) A concept of kingship based on a p a t e r n a l i s t i c relationship between king and subjects can only be effe c t i v e as long as the l a t t e r are sure of the wisdom of the king's rule and are w i l l i n g , l o y a l l y and devotedly, to accept his decisions. Daire's misfortune i s not.that he i s a bad king, but that he i s an unsuccessful one, a situation which affords Besse and Nabarzane the opportunity to argue that the alternative principles of kingship which they propose, those of expediency, are at least as v a l i d as Daire's. "Daire inspire l a sympathie par sa tr i s t e s s e noble et sans abattement, par cette defiance de l'avenir qui ne l'empechera pas de f a i r e jusqu'au bout son metier de r o i " 1 ^ . The good king has the right to expect his subjects to f u l f i l t h e i r duty and to submit to his authority; he can punish them i f they rebel against him. Alexandre's punishment of the unruly Thebans provides the action of Timoclee. The king offers more than once to forget the past i f the Thebans w i l l accept Rigal, Hardy, p. 365. 80 his authority: L'incomparable honneur des monarques du monde, A f i n que sa cl^mence au courage reponde, Comme de vaincre plus en l a G-rece lasse, Offre au peuple thebain un oubli du passe, Pourvu qu'en son devoir i l rentre dessur 1'heure, Que l e desir chez l u i de r e b e l l i o n meure. (Timoclee. 1281-86) The Thebans refuse, and Alexandre destroys the c i t y ; he destroys at the same time a system of government which i s always shown i n an unfavourable l i g h t i n Hardy's tragedies, the republican form which, though democratic i n name, i s tyrannical i n practice under the rule of the demagogues Phoenix and Prothyre, D^mosthene and Phocion. "Hardy ... a voulu raconter cette heure decisive de l ' h i s t o i r e grecque, ou l e s Ph£nix et l e s Demosthene, c'est-a-dire l e passe, ont l i v r e leur dernier combat au Macedonien, c'est-a-dire l'avenir; ou l a l i b e r t e des c i t e s helleniques a du 15 succomber pour mieux assurer l e triomphe de l'hellenisme" . Perdice, i n advising Alexandre to deal l e n i e n t l y with the revolt of the Thebans and Athenians, reminds the king of hiasfather's reason for moderation i n his treatment of the G-reeks: Ce Philippe, 1'honneur des monarques du monde, ... Trembla, victorieux, repensant au danger Ou Mars en un c l i n d ' o eil fut pret de le. plonger, Ou. l e p r ^ c i p i t a i t 1'eloquence venale D'un simple harangueur, aux er^dules f a t a l e . (Timoclee. 105, 107-10) Alexandre decries the ingratitude of the two c i t i e s which, "sous un joug de tyrans innombrables s e r v i l e s " (Timoclee. 294), have refused to recognise or to accept the benevolence of his rule. 1 5 Ibid.. pp. 384-85. 81 The conditions that he presents to the Athenian ambassadors are that they break o f f th e i r a l l i a n c e with Thebes and deliver the demagogues to him f o r punishment: Le dernier s'accomplit au supplice exemplaire Des harangueurs qui font g l o i r e de me deplaire, Que l e peuple credule ecoute a son malheur, Tellement que, punis, mon repos est l e leur; Athenes purgera l'odieuse vermine Qui trouble son £tat, l e deVore et l e mine: Sous l ' a r i s t o c r a t i e e l l e f l e u r i t apres, Et ne redoute plus nos. belliqueux apprets. (Timoclee. 325-32) His condition f o r r a i s i n g the giege of Thebes i s simi l a r : that the c i t i z e n s hand over to him Phoenix and Prothyre (Timoclee. 1287-90). As the f i r s t act of the play was devoted to Alexandre's deliberations with his counsellors, so the second presents the demagogues Demosthene and Phocion advising the Athenians on the course of action to be followed i n the current s i t u a t i o n . As Cratere and Parmenion had advised Alexandre to act with vigour, and Antipatre and Perdice had advocated prudence and moderation, so Demosthene represents the "war" party i n Athens, and Phocion the "peace" party. Demosthene argues that Athens should a c t i v e l y r e s i s t Alexandre i n the interests of national honour and prestige, while Phocion, anxious to avoid bloodshed and misery, advocates appeasement i n Athens' present weak m i l i t a r y and economic si t u a t i o n . However, the parallelism between the two scenes goes no further; f o r , whereas i n the f i r s t act Alexandre had been able to maintain the debate on a purely m i l i t a r y and p o l i t i c a l l e v e l , to balance the opposing arguments (he accepts neither the extreme position of Cratere nor that of Perdice), and to act 82 decisively on them, the debate between Demosthene and Phocion i s constantly degenerating to a l e v e l of personal v i l i f i c a t i o n , despite the e f f o r t s of Leonide to placate the two demagogues. "En vain Leonide i n t e r v i e n t - i l pour calmer l a dispute qui s'echauffe entre l e s deux orateurs. A ehaque f o i s q u ' i l donne ses sages conseils, l a discussion redevient purement politique, 16 mais, a chaque f o i s , e l l e retombe v i t e aux personnaliteV Both Demosthene and Phocion are somewhat grotesquely caricatured, and the scene, though rather long, i s l i v e l y and amusing, and could be read as a s a t i r e by Hardy of the democratic process. Similarly, Pheonix and Prothyre are shown appealing not to reason, but to mass emotion as they harangue the Thebans and encourage them imprudently to reject Alexandre's offers of leniency (Timoclee. I l l , 2, 3). These scenes serve to i l l u s t r a t e Antipatre's prediction that Thebes and Athens, both ruled by demagogic factions, cannot long remain i n agreement. Peu d'attente s u f f i t a rompre l'harmonie, A semer du discord l'amere zizanie Entre ces deux c i t e s , comparables de sort A ceux qu'en meme barque environne l a mort, Qui donnent au p e r i l l a haine mutuelle Pour affranchir l'horreur d'une f i n s i cruelle, Mais qui, sur l e rivage et recous au danger, A i n s i qu'au precedent sont prets de s'egorger. (Timoclee. 245-52) In only three of Hardy's tragedies do the people, take a s i g n i f i c a n t part i n the stage action. We have seen Meleagre's subjects demanding the protection from the ravages of the boar which i t i s the king's duty to provide. The demagogues of 1 6 Ibid.. P- 388. 83 Thebes and Athens have been considered above. Part of the interest of Coriolan l i e s i n the presentation of the struggle for p o l i t i c a l power i n Rome between the Se~nat. representing the aristocracy, and the Tribuns, representing the people. In the second scene of act one, L i c i n i e ennumerates the crimes against the "bien du public" (Coriolan. 164) of which Coriolan stands accused. F i r s t l y , he had advised the Senat to refuse a g i f t of wheat which would have been distributed among the people; the second accusation i s that Coriolan i s seeking to overthrow the established laws which recognise the sovereignty of the people and to gain complete p o l i t i c a l power, i n other words, to make himself king. In reply, Coriolan says that he advised the r e f u s a l of the g i f t of wheat i n case the people became accustomed to d i c t a t i n g t h e i r w i l l to the Se"nat; Coriolan, as a pa t r i c i a n , i s defending the a r i s t o c r a t i c p r i n c i p l e of government. As f o r the vague accusation of wishing to seize power, Coriolan denies i t indignantly and with scorn. L i c i n i e accuses Coriolan of further discrimination against the people i n the d i s t r i b u t i o n of booty from a town he had captured, and, although Coriolan again vehemently refutes t h i s accusation, the Choeur des Romains fee l s that he i s beginning to succumb before these attacks ("notre rogue l i o n commence a, s'abaisser: /Gardons-le de pouvoir jamais se redresser", Coriolan. 251-52). Meanwhile, the senators mutter that they should r a l l y round Coriolan, the f i r s t of t h e i r number: Laches, souffrirons-nous un chaos deregle? 84 Un peuple de fureur, envieux, aveugle, Du premier du Senat balancer l a fortune? Nous lairrons-nous en l u i fouler en sa rancune? II faut, s t i l est besoin, unanimes mourir, Mourir tous a ses pieds, ou bien l e secourir. (Coriolan. 259-64) However, they do nothing, and while the Choeur des Romains g l e e f u l l y h u r l i n s u l t s at Coriolan as he leaves to go into e x i l e , the Senat expresses i t s fear that t h i s f i r s t taste of power w i l l embolden the Tribuns to usurp complete authority (Coriolan. 291-300). "Hardy, par une intention digne de Shakespeare, montrait ce Senat s'excitant a ddfendre Coriolan, l e l a i s s a n t banir sans oser bouger, puis, reste seul sur l e forum apres l e depart des forcenes proscripteurs, s'accusant 17 de sa faiblesse et de son ingratitude" Coriolan, i n reviewing his t r i a l and banishment, sees that, i f the popular party has unjustly attacked him i n order to gain power, his own party also i s g u i l t y of f a i l i n g to give him support: "l'un seulement est plus, 1'autre moins criminel" (Coriolan. 328). He determines to have his revenge; and the authority of the Tribune. who were so confident i n the period of peace and prosperity won for them by Coriolan's v i c t o r i e s , crumbles before his onslaughts. It i s l e f t to the S^nat to reassume power, and i t does not f a i l to remind the Choeur des  Romains that i t had warned the people of the consequences of t h e i r attacking Coriolan. The Tribuns had been too concerned with pursuing t h e i r own f a c t i o n a l interests i n destroying the 1 7 Ibid.. p. 329. 85 power of the Senat to consider the damage to the public i n t e r e s t . Le Senat pour n^ant vous remontrait l a parte Qu'apportait un t e l homme -'a. sa v i l l e deserte, Qu'un jour i l se pourrait de 1'outrage venger, Au public i n t e r e t , et au commun danger; Bfous n'en fumes pas crus, ains l o r s vous f i t e s g l o i r e D'obtenir, l ' e x i l a n t , sur l e Senat v i c t o i r e . (Coriolan. 593-98) I f Coriolan has appeared to do the greater harm to the common people than to the a r i s t o c r a t s , i t i s only to sow discord between them i n order better to subjugate them. The two factions must now act together i n try i n g to re-establish peace (Coriolan. 615-24); but i t i s the Senat which takes the i n i t i a t i v e i n sending the ambassadors to make further overtures to Coriolan (Coriolan. 689-96). This i s not the f u l l extent of Coriolan's c o n f l i c t with the common people. In the f i n a l act.of the play, Amfidie.: accuses Coriolan of treachery to the Volscian cause. His arguments are ostensibly,addressed to the Conseil des Volsques. but at the c r u c i a l moment of the t r i a l , when Coriolan confesses that he was less than whole-hearted i n his devotion to the cause of destroying Rome, Amfidie appeals d i r e c t l y to the assembled Volscian people: "vous voyez q u ' i l confesse a pl e i n sa p e r f i d i e " (Coriolan. 1209). The Choeur des Volsques clamours for Coriolan's death, and, indeed, i s so inflamed by Amfidie's arguments as to take the law into i t s own hands and murder Coriolan on the spot. Amfidie, whose motive for seeking Coriolan's death i s personal envy rather than public service, 8 6 asks the Conseil to excuse the people for carrying out what would i n any case have been the verdict of the council. Le peuple n'a r i e n f a i t , justement mutine, Qu'executer du c i e l un arr&t destine; Ne se voulant, tyran, deposer de 1'office, II l ' y devait contraindre avec ce s a c r i f i c e ; Louez-le done de l'acte, au l i e u de le blamer, Au l i e u de l e cuider de propos r£primer. (Coriolan. 1219-24) The irony of the situ a t i o n i s that Coriolan, embittered by his unjust treatment at the hands of the Roman populace, i s the victim of an arbitrary act by the Volscian people. In Hardy's plays, popular rule i s presented as misrule. It pursues f a c t i o n a l interests rather than the common good; i t i s unprincipled i n seizing power and capricious i n wielding i t ; and i t i s subject to panic i n times of c r i s i s . I t i s , i n fact, tyranny of the worst kind. A r i s t o c r a t i c rule i s better, i f only because the nobles have the experience of leadership i n battle; but the aristocracy should stand firmly behind a strong leader, preferably one whose ultimate authority cannot be questioned: i n other words, a king. The inconsistency of the people's reactions to events must be counter-acted byuthe king's s t r i c t administration of ju s t i c e and application of the rule of law. The tyrant i s unable to deal impartially with the people, given the s e l f i s h basis of his seizure of power and the fear by means of which he dominates his subjects. Herode has ris e n , a f t e r a long and d i f f i c u l t struggle, from obscurity to kingship: 87 Que pendant j'observasse un moyen de justice? Que mes compititeurs, prudent, je ne perdisse? Que, crainte d'encourir un nom de cruaute, Je f l o t t a s s e i n c e r t a i n de t e l l e royaut£? ... Quiconque veut rdgner longuement assure Jamais en ce scrupule importun demeure" N'attende que c e l u i auquel ore i l pardonne Tantdt a 1*importun ravisse sa couronne. (Mariamne. 89-92; 95-98) His idea of ju s t i c e i s cruel repression, and i n Mariamne's t r i a l he i s not as impartial as he promises to be: Neutre en cette action me porter je proteste, Quoiqu'elle me regarde, et que seul offense Je me pusse venger sans l e dro i t balance. (Mariamne. 1280-82) Mariamne points out that t h i s i s an untenable position: "quiconque est juge ensemble et partie on recuse" (Mariamne. 1328). The tyranny of the demagogues consists i n th e i r ignorance of justice and duty (Timoclee. 295-96), f o r justice i s a divine attribute and a t e r r i b l e r e s p o n s i b i l i t y and must be respected as such by the king. Celui triomphe plus qui triomphe,du vice, Sous son autorite n'admettant 1'injustice, Que s i de l'univers i l maniait l e f r e i n . (Panthee. 189-91) The law i s above the king, and he must be s t r i c t l y impartial i n meting out j u s t i c e . In dealing with her case, Alexandre promises Timoclee that Juge sans passion, vous obtenez de moi Tout ce que l'on saurait de l'e"quite d'un r o i . (Timoclee. 2282-83) The more just the king, the more he r e a l i s e s that divine justice i s tempered by divine mercy. Alluding to the fa m i l i a r Homeric image of the two "tonneaux" containing good and e v i l 88 fortune, Alexandre comments on Jupiter's i m p a r t i a l i t y i n his dealings with mortals, but adds that "sa clemence toujours succede a sa j u s t i c e " (Timoclee. 2248). Cirus makes an oblique reference to the image of the wheel of fortune when, at the height of a resounding victory, he determines upon moderation: Gr de peur d ' i r r i t e r fortune a double face, l a fortune obtenue i l faudra moderer, De sorte qu'elle n'ait de quoi se colerer: Pitpyables, elements a l a tourbe captive, La clemence jamais de son f r u i t ne nous prive, E l l e a t t i r e l e s coeurs par un celeste aimant, Et va des plus felons l a rancune charmant. (Panther. 90-96) Alexandre applies the precept of clemency to a pa r t i c u l a r situation, for af t e r having, as "juge sans passion", recognised as excusable Timocle'e's murder of Hypparque and restored her freedom, he goes beyond the s t r i c t requirements of justice and orders that her plundered property be given back while a l l admire and pay hommage to her virtuousness. Ma clemence ne peut se c h o i s i r favorable Sujet plus que l e sien aux ages memorable. (Timoclee. 2324-25) Timoclee as a play i s very much concerned with clemency as an aspect of kingship. Alexandre i s aware of the principles of good kingship which his anger with the Thebans leads him to betray. Recognising that.he has been less than f a i t h f u l to these p r i n c i p l e s , he t r i e s to r e c t i f y the s i t u a t i o n by an act of mercy, thus acquiring a higher conception of and a greater insight into the principles of good kingship. Early i n the play Alexandre had discussed the problem of clemency with his advisers, Cratere and Perdice offering opposing arguments. 89 Alexandre claims that he has given the Greeks proof of the clemency of his regime and his desire to be moderate: N'exiger que l e nom de simple capitaine [i.e. not king} Donne de ma clemence une preuve certaine, Cl^mence qui l e s veut en leurs l o i s maintenir. (Timoclee. 141-43) Cratere argues that the time for clemency i s past, since i t encourages the seditious factions which severity would crush (Timoclee. 161-64). To this argument Perdice r e p l i e s that, i f cruel repression by a king i n his own kingdom causes his subjects, who are used to royal domination, to r i s e up against him, what chance i s there that republics (the Greek city-states) w i l l not do the same (Timoclee. 169-78)? The safest foundation for a state i s the benevolence of the king's r u l e : Mais comment asservir? Avec une douceur Qui jette des etats l e fondement plus sur. (Timoclee. 199-200) Hardy does not suggest that there i s any easy answer to the problem of clemency. To gain the l o y a l t y and a f f e c t i o n of his subjects, the king must show himself to be merciful and forgiving, but there seem always to be subjects ready to take advantage of his trust and leniency. The fate of Alexandre and Daire makes one ask oneself whether the repressive measures advocated by Herode and Cratere are not the safest solution. The poisoned Alexandre regrets that his incomparable clemency has brought nothing but ingratitw&.e>, conspiracy and revolt against him, and has f i n a l l y led to his assassination by t r a i t o r s (Alexandre. 982-90). Patron i s influenced by instances of Daire's past clemency i n o f f e r i n g the king asylum among the 90 Greek mercenaries. We have already noticed Daire's reasons f o r re j e c t i n g the offer; but Besse, who has observed the conversation from a distance and suspects that Patron has informed the king of the plot, resolves to deceive Daire "by admitting everything and feigning repentance: une hypocrite feinte, Comme l'ame envers l u i de repentance atteinte, Ce simple naturel remettra dans nos r e t s . (Daire. 965-67) He w i l l use Daire's observance of the p r i n c i p l e of clemency to bring about the king's downfall, an i r o n i c situation which i s played out i n the scene which follows. Artabase t e l l s Besse and Nabarzane, who are waiting for an audience with Daire, that the king i s no longer angry with them. He praises Daire's clemency, a quality which assures him the l o y a l t y of his subjects (Daire. 990-96). Besse and Nabarzane say that they have come expressly to affirm t h e i r repentance and to beg the king's forgiveness, and when Daire enters Besse throws himself on his mercy, praising i n exaggerated terms his clemency, wisdom and magnanimity. Monarque aussi clement que sage et magnanime, Exorable, pardonne un temeraire crime, Qui prosterne l'auteur a. ces sacres genoux, Resolu de f i n i r sa vie ou ton courroux. (Daire. 1009-12) Daire forgives the t r a i t o r s w i l l i n g l y , assuring them that he has always held mercy to be the highest principles of good kingship: l a vertu qui decore le s r o i s Consiste a pardonner, benins, autant de f o i s Que l e coupable vient reconnaitre sa faute. (Daire. 1023-25) 91 Besse and Nabarzane ef f u s i v e l y swear t h e i r l o y a l t y and, i n order to prove i t , Besse says that they w i l l place a guard of t h e i r own men around Daire's tent. The r e s u l t w i l l be, of course, that Daire w i l l become t h e i r prisoner and that Patron and the Greeks w i l l be prevented from helping him. But the king has not been deceived and, a f t e r the conspirators leave, he condemns th e i r treachery. He-cannot decide on what action to take i n t h i s s i t u a t i o n . He w i l l not seek refuge with the Greeks, for he would appear unjustly to cast suspicion upon the innocent, and though he contemplates suicide, he rejects t h i s as an act of cowardice; besides, i t would be to desert those who remain l o y a l to him (Daire, 1075-80). Daire, i n a weak position and unable to exert authority by a show of strength, retains his dignity and n o b i l i t y of character because he remains true to the p r i n c i p l e s of good kingship. Unfortunately, i n order that the i d e a l i s t i c morality of such a s o c i a l structure work, everyone, king and subject a l i k e , must accept i t . Besse and Nabarzane corrupt these ideals to t h e i r own ends because they do not understand the p r i n c i p l e which underlies them. Clemency i s not the prerogative of kings alone, but i s required of any peacemaker. Volomnie, i n pleading with her son to cease his assaults on Rome, asks Coriolan not to forget his obligations to the Volsques, but to arrange peace between the two sides. Equitable censeur de nos discussions, Je ne te voudrais pas c o n s e i l l e r , mal-aprise, De t r a h i r ceux qui f o n t leur puissance commise, 92 Non plus que de vouloir ton pays ruiner; Tu dois, f i d e l e a l'un, a 1'autre pardonner, De deux extremites moyennant un remede: Au regard des vertus l a clemence precede. (Coriolan. 1008-14) Simil a r l y , Priam praises i n A c h i l l e the peacemaker as much as the warrior: Qui tient des valeureux l e supreme degr£, Qui tient l e contre-poids en l'une et 1'autre armee, Autant de sa vertu que de sa renomee, Qui, clement, s'humilie a rechercher, vainqueur, Ceux qui n'ont tantSt plus n i d'espoir n i de coeur. (A c h i l l e . 1148-52) Both Coriolan and A c h i l l e are murdered i n their pious effo r t s to secure peace; but we should not conclude that Hardy regarded with scepticism or even pessimism the ef f o r t s of the peacemaker, or considered that the ideals of the king who attempts to rule mercifully are bound to be frustrated. As we have seen, Coriolan i s the victim of a corrupt p o l i t i c a l system and the enmity of a jealous r i v a l ; A c h i l l e i s the victim of a breach of good f a i t h . Priam expresses the pr i n c i p l e energetically: good f a i t h i s as essential to dealings between states as i t i s to the relations between king and subjects. La f o i sur les vertus pare une royaute: Sans e l l e l'univers serait-une brigandage, Nous l a devons tenir, fut-ce a notre dommage. (Ach i l l e . 1140-42) Cirus assures Panthee that he i s not behaving c y n i c a l l y i n pardoning Araspe, and as a sign of his good f a i t h he sets his captive free without ransom and arranges to reunite her with her husband. In fa c t , i t i s Araspe who has acted i n bad f a i t h and has threatened to bring into disrepute Cirus' regime, giving 93 the king a reputation f o r favouritism and i n j u s t i c e : ou vole en public 1'eclat d'une i n j u s t i c e , Ou mon autorite" sert de v o i l e a son vice, ... Je doute quels tourments i l n'a point merites. (Panthee. 443-44, 446) Indeed, since Araspe enjoys Cirus' favour, he merits greater punishment, and should not enjoy the benefit of the king's natural i n c l i n a t i o n to clemency (Panthee. 447-50) . Cirus y i e l d s , however, to the pleas of the nurse and to his own tendency to be merciful: he forgives Araspe and treats Panthee, rather as Alexandre treats Timocle'e, with honour and respect, thus gaining her l o y a l t y and that of Abradate. The king's relations with his subjects define the goodness or tyranny of his reign. The king must be aware of his duty to the state and subordinate his personal desires and ambitions to. the common good. He w i l l weigh c a r e f u l l y the arguments for and against a certain course of action i n a given situation, w i l l come to a decision, based on fixed p r i n c i p l e s , about the action to be taken, and w i l l accept r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for the outcome. Men of such strength of w i l l and personality, though almost as rare i n Hardy's tragic theatre as i n l i f e , are nevertheless depicted as necessary to the perfect functioning of the state. Even a somewhat les s then perfect king i s preferable to the alternative, the chaos of democratic government, characterised by polemics, indecision and recriminations. The king's subjects owe him t h e i r obedience and l o y a l t y i n return for the justice and clemency of his reign; the tyrant's subjects may lawfully 94 rebel against him, but i t i s never l e s s than treason and sacrilege for the good king's subjects to try to depose him. Alexandre i s among the kings who are undeservedly assassinated. In a speech i n the f i r s t act of l a Mort d'Alexandre. he acknow-ledges that his reign has been le s s than perfect and that he has occasionally been g u i l t y of undue violence, but that t h i s has been the r e s u l t of anger, that i t has never been voluntary or premeditated, and that such moments have quickly passed. He swears that his aim has always been to establish universal peace and harmony, and that he has never been inc l i n e d towards cruelty, but always towards clemency (Alexandre. 137-44). Antigone says that, i n observing these pr i n c i p l e s , Alexandre has deserved to become the r u l e r of the universe. In this the king resembles Jupiter, whose goodness exceeds his power, and who gains the allegiance of men by his "traitement humain" and by his beneficence. His greatness consists i n his good kingship rather than i n his m i l i t a r y prowess (Alexandre. 145-54). Cirus also makes important statements about the principles of good kingship i n the f i r s t scene of Panthee. but, unlike Alexandre, he i s not murdered for his pains. Priam i s well aware of these pr i n c i p l e s , but he i s too old and too feeble to r e s i s t the arguments based on expediency advanced by his sons. Admete i s presented as the good king deservedly beloved of his subjects; when he learns that he has to die, his f i r s t concern i s for t h e i r well-being. The contrast within the same play i s with the tyrant Pluton. 95 This r e c i p r o c a l relationship of service and l o y a l t y between king and subjects lays the foundation f o r the concept of absolutism, a subject also commented on by some of Hardy's kings. For example, Agamemnon, while accepting complete r e s p o n s i b i l i t y i n deciding on how to deal with A c h i l l e , asks h i s fellow Greek commanders to bear witness that he does not abuse his authority: Vous, genereuse f l e u r , vous, guerriers indompt^s Qui, colonnes, du f a i x une part supportez, Arbitres, publiez qu'insolent je n'abuse Du pouvoir absolu, s i apres on m'accuse. (A c h i l l e . 619-22) In other words, Agamemnon has no intention of allowing his personal animosity towards A c h i l l e to cause him to commit a tyrannical deed. Meleagre, presented as a good king ready to lay down his l i f e to serve his people at the beginning of the play, becomes a tyrant and i s j u s t i f i a b l y murdered at the end. He i s an absolute monarch, there i s no questioning his authority; but i t i s only i n the second h a l f of the play, during his rapid decline towards tyranny and when his actions have become extremely arbitrary, that he asserts the p r i n c i p l e of absolutism. Thus Meleagre cries out against the action of Plexipe and Tox^e, Ces rebelles grants a l'ame deloyale, Qui negligent, pervers, l ' a u t o r i t e royale, Qui foulent ma puissance, osent a son m£pris Prendre oh. je l ' a i donne ce victorieux prix: (Mel£agre. 929-3.2) but i n the l i n e s which immediately follow he praises Atalante's beauty i n such a way as to suggest that his decision i n awarding the prize was not based on the best kingly principles of reason and i m p a r t i a l i t y . When Atalante pleads with Meleagre not to 96 treat his uncles too harshly, the king r e p l i e s that the good of the state requires that he preserve his absolute authority (Meleagre. 965-66), and aft e r he has put Plexipe and Tox6e to the sword, Meleagre affirms the justice of his action i n that i t restores his authority as king. Ces ravisseurs punis, de leur tem£rit£ Possedent justement l e loyer m£rit£; Mon vouloir maintenant n'a plus qui l e contr&le. (Meleagre. 1019-21) The absolute monarch i s given great power, but his duty i s to use that power i n the best interests of the state, and i n accordance with the p r i n c i p l e of j u s t i c e . He remains the f i r s t servant of the state, he must recognise the supremacy of the rule of law, and thus he must not allow personal considera-tions to influence his decisions and lead him to act a r b i t r a r i l y . I f he does, he becomes a tyrant, and as such may be lawfully deposed. One should repeat at t h i s point that there i s nothing i n Hardy's analysis of the p r i n c i p l e s of kingship which i s o r i g i n a l or unique. The same arguments may be found i n the plays of his predecessors and, indeed, of the dramatists who followed him. I hope, however, to have shown the extent of Hardy's concern with t h i s theme, and the persistence and consistency with which he treats i t . When Lancaster writes that "Hardy cannot be 18 ca l l e d , l i k e Corneille, a p o l i t i c a l dramatist" , I must disagree •1 Q Lancaster, History. I, 1, p. 48. 97 with him. Nor i s t h i s the end of Hardy's concern with t h i s theme, fo r we have now to consider an aspect which he was among the f i r s t dramatists to treat, that of legitimacy and the right of conquest, and the associated problems of l i b e r t y and patriotism. In t h i s context we must study the statements made about their roles by the conquering kings and by those affected by t h e i r conquest, as well as the relations between conqueror and conquered. Hardy presents four i l l e g i t i m a t e kings i n his tragedies, of whom one, Alexandre, appears i n three plays. It i s a matter of semantics whether one c a l l s these kings conquerors or usurpers; Herode i s a usurper because he i s a tyrant of humble b i r t h , whereas Alexandre, Aenie and Cirus are hereditary kings who are expanding th e i r empires, and who are among the more admirable of Hardy's royal personages. Aenee's role as conquerer i s not examined i n Didon se s a c r i f i a n t ; he has, after a l l , not yet founded his empire. Nevertheless, he makes repeated references to the necessity of founding a new kingdom i n Italy, and i t i s his decision to resume his role as conqueror and to leave Carthage which provides the action of the play. The other three monarchs are presented as conquerors (or usurpers) i n c o n f l i c t with legitimate kings or their supporters. Their problems are e s s e n t i a l l y those of any king, with the addition of others peculiar to t h e i r own si t u a t i o n as i l l e g i t i m a t e r u l e r s . Herode has seized power by extirpating a l i n e of monarchs, replacing t h e i r good kingship by his own tyranny. Cirus has 98 driven a bad, i f legitimate king from Lydia to establish his own just reign. Alexandre i s presented i n a more equivocal position, since, while he i s e s s e n t i a l l y a good king, his conquest i s at the expense of another benevolent r u l e r , Daire. The methods employed by Herode i n usurping the kingship are those that one would expect, given the tyrannous features of his subsequent reign. In the prologue to Mariamne the ghost of Aristobule t e l l s how Herode had perjured the trust placed i n him by murdering the r i g h t f u l king, Hyrcane, who had abdicated i n his favour, and had then murdered Aristobule, Hyrcane's son and thus legitimate successor to his realm (Mariamne. 7-21). Herode's account of his r i s e to power i s , as one might imagine, rather d i f f e r e n t . He has by his own e f f o r t s made himself king, "ou. premier je me suis de ma race f a i t l u i r e " (Mariamne, 86), and can have no scruples about putting to death potential r i v a l s for the throne. As a matter of expediency he has eradicated an ancient l i n e of kings. En matiere d'etat l e s prdceptes meilleurs: G-ardons l a piete, hormis ce point a i l l e u r s , Prevoyants, n'epargnons amis n i parentelle Qui sa part avec nous du royaume querelle. Du secret pratique je depouille l e s f r u i t s , Ces mutins factieux dessous l e f r e i n reduits, Que l e ressouyenir d'une famille antique Soulevait, reputant mon pouvoir tyrannique, Et jusqu'a_la racine extirpee, i l n'y a Plus de quoi redouter, quant a. ce cote-la. (Mariamne. 99-108) In a century i n which absolute rule and the divine right of kings were to become.~establish.ed p o l i t i c a l p r i n c i p l e s , such a course of action might be considered excusable, p a r t i c u l a r l y i f , 99 as Herode does, the monarch brings i n t e r n a l stability and m i l i t a r y prestige to his kingdom. These are the arguments employed by the nourrice i n objecting to Mariamne's continued h o s t i l i t y to Herode's reign: he i s king, the king's word i s law, and has now been accepted by the Judaeans. Pi l o t e necessaire a l ' e t a t dprouve, Chacun qui l e blamait l ' a depuis approuve. Entreprendrez-vous done dessur une commune, De force accommod£e a sa bonne fortune? (Mariamne. 487-90). Mariamne i n s i s t s that his reign i s none the le s s i l l e g a l and tyrannical ("roi eontre tous l e s droits des gens et de nature", Mariamne. 473), and l a t e r i n the play the queen reminds Herode that a man born to the kingship and conscious of i t s principles would have been incapable of committing Herode's crimes: "un naturel g£n£reux et royal /Ne saurait consentir a r i e n de deloyal" (Mariamne. 1023-24). Herode's f a u l t seems, then, to be not so much his usurpation of the throne, not even his replacement of the benign rule of "ces princes naturels, ces pasteurs d>£bonnaires" (Mariamne. 21) by the cruelty and repres-sion of his tyranny; his main shortcoming i s the lowliness of his b i r t h compared with that of the hereditary monarchs he has deposed, and his consequent i n a b i l i t y to comprehend the true bases of the king's power and how he should exercise i t . Cirus, by contrast, i s nothing i f not aware of the pri n c i p l e s of good kingship, as i s shown i n the opening speeches of Panthee. With the entrance of the heroine there ensues a b r i e f discussion of the r e l a t i v e merits of the legitimate king and of the conqueror. 100 Panthee claims that the natural prince, even i f he i s a tyrant, i s preferable to the usurper. Cirus r e p l i e s that, once the people's rancour has abated, they w i l l accept a conqueror provided he prove himself to be a benevolent monarch (Panthee. 135-44). The remainder of the f i r s t h a l f of the play i s devoted precisely to Cirus' e f f o r t s to prove to Panthee that he i s f i t to be king. In t h i s instance the conqueror quickly establishes his worthiness; the question i s whether the conquered people w i l l accept his r u l e . The problems of l i b e r t y and patriotism, so important for Panthee and for Abradate who are both es s e n t i a l l y noble and l o y a l characters, are f u l l y debated i n the interview between them. Panthee repeats to her husband Cirus' o f f e r of an honourable position i n his service; Abradate r e p l i e s that he would accept, were his f i r s t duty not to l i b e r a t e his country. While Panthee recognises the demands of patriotism: On doit, je l e confesse, au pays un amour Charitable et pieux jusques au dernier jour, (Panthee. 625-26) she argues for prudence i n the face of an i n v i n c i b l e power. Abradate objects that Cirus could never r e a l l y trust a t r a i t o r or turn-coat ( i . e . Abradate), but Panthee repeats that there can be no treason to a country that i s completely conquered and to a cause that i s already l o s t . Abradate 1s f i n a l objection i s on a more personal l e v e l : granted his desire to serve his country as a patriot i s thwarted, he would rather serve any master than Cirus. 101 Au p i s , nous avons plus d'honneur a nous ranger E n ' l a - a u c t i o n du plus v i i etranger, Servir l a cruaute" des peuples de Boree, Celle des Nasamons en l'Afrique alteree, Que de preter l e c o l au f^l o n ravisseur De notre l i b e r t e . (Panthee. 689-94) Panthee i n s i s t s that Cirus i s not l i k e other conquerors: his reign i s founded on good f a i t h , and his conquest has been achieved without cruelty (Panthee. 694-96). Thus she manages to persuade Abradate to serve a usurper who i s a good king. Indeed, as Panthee points out to Abradate's herald, to be subject to a king such as Cirus i s the greatest l i b e r t y . Ces f e r s , mon grand ami, dessous un t e l seigneur Sont une l i b e r t e magnifique d'honneur. Les favoris des dieux tombent en mon desastre, Par e i l s c a p t i f s ne sont nes que sous un bon astre. (Panthee. 529-32) The good king i s deserving of one's l o y a l t y , which over-rides patriotism. That i s to say, the absolute monarch embodies the state; provided he i s acting i n the best interests of the state i t i s to him that the subject owes his allegiance. To serve such a king i s true l i b e r t y . This i s why the expressions of love of l i b e r t y and of patriotism uttered by Phaenisse (Timoclee. 1133-40) and by the Choeur de Thebains (Timoclee. 1695-98), so admirable taken i n the abstract, are mistaken when considered i n the p a r t i c u l a r situation; for Alexandre i s not a tyrant, but has t r i e d as far as possible to preserve the ancient l i b e r t i e s of the greek c i t y - s t a t e s . Similarly, Antipatre exhorts his sons to aid him i n poisoning Alexandre: 102 Trois gouttes vengeront l e s outrages soufferts De tant de preux guerriers qui peuplent l e s enfers, Nous l i b d r ^ s d'un joug d'horrible servitude; A f i n que ses p a r e i l s , fuyants 1'ingratitude, Apprennent a garder l e s bornes du devoir, Et f a i r e au bien public s e r v i r leur grand pouvoir. (Alexandre. 363-68) One might, however, ask who i s the more conscious of the public good, Alexandre who i s try i n g to weld together many disparate races into one empire (Alexandre. 137-39), or Antipatre, who i s tryi n g to maintain power i n the hands of, and for the benefit of, one group of subjects, the aristocracy. Hardy's preference i s , as usual, for the monarchic i d e a l . Such a preference raises problems when two good kings are i n c o n f l i c t , as i n l a Mort de Daire. Besse and Nabarzane are clearly,even more g u i l t y i n deposing and assassinating Daire than are Antipatre and his sons i n poisoning Alexandre; they do not even have a personal wrong to avenge. Alexandre swears over the corpse of Daire to pursue and punish with the utmost severity the two criminals (Daire. 1379-88). In that case, how does one excuse Alexandre's relentless hounding of the Persian king across h a l f of Asia? Rigal seems vaguely aware of the problem when he compares Hardy's tragedy with that of his predecessor, Jacques de La T a i l l e , but he offers no solution to i t . In Hardy's play Alexandre joue maintenant un role aussi important que c e l u i de Daire, et ... l e sujet meme de l a tragedie est change. La ou La T a i l l e s'etait uniquement propose de nous montrer Daire t r a h i , puis charge de chaines et reduit, avant de mourir, a confier l e soin de sa vengenace a ses ennemis, Hardy a voulu de plus nous montrer l'ancien maitre 103 de 1'Orient battu et poursulvi par Alexandre, l u i cedant de gre presque autant que de force, 1'empire de l'univers. Pour l u i , ce n'est plus Daire qui est l e p r i n c i p a l personnage, c'est Alexandre; ou plutdt, l ' i n t e r e t de l a piece est tout entier dans l a l u t t e de deux puissances, dont l'une doit etre s i infortunee et 1'autre s i extraordinairement heureuse. Le t i t r e , l a Mort de Daire, ne resume plus avec exactitude l e sujet: i l ne sert qu'a designer, de l a facon l a plus courte et l a plus expressive possible, un episode de l ' h i s t o i r e d'Alexandre et du monde. ... Chaque acte commence dans l e camp de Daire et se continue dans c e l u i d'Alexandre; l e Macedonien parait toujours apres l e Perse, de sorte que, dans l a tragedie comme dans l ' h i s t o i r e , l e conquerant poursuit sans relache l e f u g i t i f 1 ^ . I f , as Baudin suggests, the role of the conqueror i s of romanesque provenance, we have at least a p a r t i a l explanation for the expansion of Alexandre's role i n Hardy's play. We can see i n his treatment of the theme of l a Mort de Daire as c l e a r l y as anywhere that, though the origins of Hardy's tragedy are i n the sixteenth-century drama, his plays prefigure the seventeenth-century tragedy as i t was to develop. His Alexandre and Cirus are distant prefigurations of Scudery's Cirus i n l e Grand Cirus and of Racine 1s Alexandre i n his treatment of t h i s legend. They are also, of course, related to the many conquerors of seventeenth-century romanesque tragi-comedy, not least to Hardy's own Phraarte. But Phraarte finds i n love his i n s p i r a t i o n fo r conquest, whereas Cirus* motivation i s purely p o l i t i c a l . In the same way, Hardy's Alexandre i s by no means spurred on by love i n his conquest of the Persian empire. Bubace assures Daire that Alexandre, "moins v a i l l a n t que chaste" (Daire. 99), Hardy, p. 363. 104 has n o t seduced the P e r s i a n p r i n c e s s , whom he h o l d s c a p t i v e , n o r w i l l he have a l l o w e d any i n s u l t t o be o f f e r e d t o h e r "pudique r e p o s " , i n the same way t h a t C i r u s i s c o u r t e o u s i n h i s t r e a t m e n t of Panthee. Hardy seems t o have s e t h i m s e l f the t a s k o f j u s t i f y i n g p u r e l y i n p o l i t i c a l terms the v i c t o r y o f A l e x a n d r e , the hero o f the f u t u r e , over D a i r e , the hero o f the p a s t . D a i r e e x p r e s s e s i n t h e f i r s t s p e e c h o f t h e p l a y h i s d e s i r e t o hand on h i s empire t o a l e g i t i m a t e h e i r ( D a i r e . 19-20), b u t , w i t h h i s queen dead and h i s mother and daughter c a p t i v e , he d e s p a i r s o f b e i n g a b l e t o secu r e the s u c c e s s i o n . Only a n a t u r a l p r i n c e can r a l l y h i s s u b j e c t s t o oppose the a t t a c k s o f the u s u r p e r . However, a f t e r Bubace has a s s u r e d him o f A l e x a n d r e ' s n o b i l i t y o f c h a r a c t e r and f i t n e s s t o be k i n g , D a i r e p r a y s t o the gods e i t h e r t h a t he may r e g a i n f o r P e r s i a i t s a n c i e n t p r o s p e r i t y , o r e l s e , S i de vous ma p r i e r e au b e s o i n se m6prise, S i l a f o r c e succombe au f a i x de 1 ' e n t r e p r i s e , Qu'a l ' i n s i g n e v e r t u de ce preux Macedon Mon trSne desormais demeure l e guerdon, Q u ' i l y s o i t s e u l a s s i s s u c c e s s e u r en ma p l a c e . ( D a i r e . 121-25) A f t e r the b a t t l e o f A r b e l a , when A l e x a n d r e c o n t r o l s v i r t u a l l y t h e whole o f P e r s i a , the Macedonian k i n g r e a l i s e s t h a t h i s t a s k i s n o t y e t f i n i s h e d , t h a t he must, as i n some v a s t chess game, pursue and c a p t u r e D a i r e , f o r as l o n g as the n a t u r a l p r i n c e remains f r e e , then r e b e l l i o n by the P e r s i a n s a g a i n s t A l e x a n d r e ' s r u l e remains l e g i t i m a t e . 105 Non qu'une cruaute m'en provoque l'envie, Mais 1 1 apprehension de v o i r que peu a peu L ' e t i n c e l l e rested allumat un grand feu. ... Je ne d e s i s t e r a i que Daire ne s o i t p r i s , Que sa prise en mes mains n'assure son empire. (Daire. 842-44; 876-77) Towards the end of the play, Alexandre repeats his explanation of why the capture of Daire i s so important to the s t a b i l i t y and legitimacy of his conquest: Car toujours l e s sujets aiment, origi n a i r e s , Leurs princes naturels comme l u i debonnaires, Et eux vivants, a peine on l e s saurait ranger Sous l e mors, bien que doux, d'un seigneur etranger; A l a revolte enclins, revolte legitime, P a r e i l feu que sa cause eteinte ne supprime. (Daire. 1325-30) Though Alexandre does not yet know i t , h is cause i s already won. In the previous scene we have heard Daire confer upon Alexandre the succession to the throne i n asking that the conqueror avenge the murder of the legitimate king; and P o l i s t r a t e i s i n no doubt as to the importance of his message as he hurries off to report Daire's dying words. Avertissons l e r o i de s i bonne nouvelle, Lors l i b e r e du soin qui l e tient en cervelle, Vu qu'en Daire abattu, son empire debout N*a plus de c o r r i v a l dont i l ne vienne a. bout. (Daire. 1309-12) Alexandre's right of conquest i s now affirmed; but the duration of his empire i s not yet assured. To do that, he must accomplish what Daire was incapable of: provide an heir to the empire and establish a dynasty. The conqueror's regime always remains s l i g h t l y i l l e g i t i m a t e and precarious; but his son may be accepted as a natural prince. It i s with the problem of securing the succession that the king i s concerned i n l a Mort 106 d'Alexandre. The play i s as lacking i n action and movement as any Renaissance tragedy, and much more so than i s usual with Hardy. The f i r s t three acts present a series of prophecies and portents of Alexandre's death; the f i n a l two acts show us the slow and agonising death i t s e l f . Unlike l a Mort de Daire. the action of t h i s play i s , quite l i t e r a l l y , the death of Alexandre; but the play i s not lacking i n i n t e r e s t . One commentator, af t e r analysing the play, concluded: " t e l l e est cette tragedie sans intrigues, sans incidents, sans peripeties, sans amours 20 combattus, qui ... se soutient par l a seule admiration" There are two prophecies and three presages of the king's death i n the play, and a f t e r each one Alexandre makes a s i g n i f i -cant statement about kingship i n general or his own reign i n pa r t i c u l a r . The two prophecies both occur i n the f i r s t act. The protatic ghost utters the f i r s t , and near the end of the act a Mage warns Alexandre not to enter Babylon, for he i s destined to die there. Alexandre r e p l i e s that i t i s i n d i f f e r e n t to him whether he l i v e or die, Pourvu qu'un successeur, mon courage heritant, N ' a i l l e l e f r e i n du monde a quelque autre quittant, Pourvu que sa valeur mes desseins accomplisse. (Alexandre. 239-41) The presages begin aft e r the scene with the conspirators i n act two. A second Mage gives an account of the s a c r i f i c e and divination i n Babylon, while the portents follow i n rapid succession i n the t h i r d act. The scene i n which Denis i s N.-M. Bernadin, Theatre complet de Racine. (Paris, 1882), I, 154. (Cited i n Rigal, Hardy, p. 384~T 107 discovered s i t t i n g i n the royal robes on the throne already suggests that a criminal w i l l succeed Alexandre. This fear i s i n t e n s i f i e d when Plistarque reports the k i l l i n g of the l i o n s by the goat, for, while Alexandre i s a f r a i d that he w i l l be struck down by "quelque lache main", he i s much more concerned that apres ma mort (malheur qui serait pire) Un successeur indigne usurpe cet empire. (Alexandre. 697-98) Roxane pleads with Alexandre to be prudent and mindful of his duty as king to his subjects, but when these appeals have no effect, she adds that the king's death w i l l bring about her own and that of t h e i r c h i l d which w i l l shortly be born. Me v o i l a , desastreuse, au veuvage reduite, Qui me rendrait l a mort agreable, sinon Ce f r u i t pret a s o r t i r , doux present de Junon, Que tu f a i s avorter, inhumain parricide, Possible autre phenix qui n a i t r a i t d'un Alcide. (Alexandre. 798-802) Alexandre i s s u f f i c i e n t l y shocked by t h i s thought to promise to leave Babylon the following day. After his poisoning, Alexandre shows much more intense concern with leaving an heir to the throne. He knows that he i s too close to death to serve his subjects further; he would l i k e to be sure that his kingdom i s l e f t i n the hands of a prince who w i l l continue his benevolent reign. Fortune has been kind to him, except i n t h i s one respect, 21 that he has no legitimate heir (Alexandre. 1147-48) . The queen enters for her f i n a l interview with the king, and expresses 2 1 Theatre. IV, 77. The l i n e s are misnumbered 1047-48. 108 her determination to immolate herself a f t e r his death. Alexandre re p l i e s that she must accept the fact of his death, and t e l l s her that the c h i l d she bears w i l l provide consolation for his loss and security for her future position ("ancre de ta fortune, 22 i l l ' a r r e t e a. bon port," Alexandre. 1259 ). Roxane continues to fear threats to her safety, p a r t i c u l a r l y from S t a t i r e , Daire*s daughter, whose offspring would be legitimate pretenders to the throne and who could claim allegiance from Daire's former subjects. La haute extraction royale de Statire En ce profond souci, a juste d r o i t , me t i r e , Des sujets naturels, pour l a g r a t i f i e r , Ne feindront, inhumains, de me s a c r i f i e r . 0 0 (Alexandre. 1277-80 " ) Alexandre repeats his assurance that the Macedonians w i l l continue to protect her against a popular revolt u n t i l such time as the people's l o y a l t y can be placed i n his as-yet-unborn son. Nos Macedoniens avec une parole Rendront, n'en doute pas, sa vindicte f r i v o l e . Quel besoin de parole, un f r u i t concu de moi T*oblige, apres ma mort, leur service et leur f o i . ? 9 (Alexandre. 1281-84 ) So Alexandre dies. The irony of the s i t u a t i o n i s that the disintegration of the empire which he had feared and h a l f predicted i s accomplished shortly after his death, even though he leaves his subjects a legitimate heir, and i n spite of the admonition of his dying words to his generals: Mon empire assez grand vous s u f f i t , d i v i s e , Pourvu qu'a 1'amiable on y a i t avise, Et qu'aucun successeur de ma couche ne sorte. ? ^ (Alexandre. 1303-05°) 2 2 Ibid.. IV, 80. 2 5 Ibid.. IV, 81. 1 0 9 I t i s the f i n a l affirmation of the monarchic i d e a l . Honourable though they may be, the aristocrats do not have the greater v i s i o n , the profound conception of duty that i s the sign of the true king, and as a r e s u l t l e t the empire disintegrate. The tragedy of l a Mort d'Alexandre l i e s not i n the king's death, but i n the f r u s t r a t i o n of t h i s i d e a l . We should not, however, close our consideration of Hardy's treatment of t h i s theme on such a pessimistic note. It i s true that, i n Didon se s a c r i f i a n t for example, the queen dies without leaving; a natural successor; i t i s true that, i f she had married Iarbe, they could have founded a universal empire (Didon. 2012-18). Would the empire of two monarchs as unstable i n t h e i r emotions and as unconcerned with th e i r duty to th e i r subjects as Didon and Iarbe have long observed the principles of good kingship? On the other hand, Aenee has set s a i l , f a i t h f u l to his % c r e d trust to found his kingdom i n I t a l y . La se doit restaurer l e mur dardanien, ... Arreter des Troyens l a vagabonds f u i t e , La mon espoir Ascagne, Aseagne mon souci, Redoutable, regner sous un c i e l adouci, Laissant de race en race une splendeur d'empire Par tout oil l e s o l e i l f a i t ses flammes r e l u i r e . (Didon. 43 , 46-50) The v i s i o n of the monarchic i d e a l remains, as i n Rome i t was once achieved. One may argue that Hardy has done no more than repeat the p o l i t i c a l sentiments expressed by Plutarch, Xenophon, V e r g i l , and other historians and moralists of antiquity, and that i n 110 any case t h i s conception of the monarchic i d e a l was foremost among the p o l i t i c a l debating points i n the early seventeenth century. The fact remains that, from the stock of legend and history that was the dramatist's source material, Hardy chose certain stories with a p o l i t i c a l content, and dramatised them i n such a way as to emphasise a pa r t i c u l a r p o l i t i c a l message. For instance, Meleagre combines two episodes from the l i f e of the legendary hero, the story of the hunt of the Calydonian boar and the hero's death at the hands of his mother. Hardy could have made a romanesque tragi-comedy out of the f i r s t episode, a Renaissance-style tragedy out of the second. Instead he combined the two and emphasised certain features of Meleagre's r o l e . I hope to have shown that there i s a unifying theme, the problem of kingship, which l i n k s the two parts and provides a coherent o v e r a l l conception for the drama. Simi l a r l y Alceste combines the stories of the heroine and Hercules. Admittedly, Hardy found a good precedent i n the o r i g i n a l Euripidean play, but he has modified and greatly extended the r o l e of Hercule, modified that of Admete, and included the episode with Pluton. Rigal regrets that, i n Panthee. Hardy did not include the scene, found i n Xenophon, i n which the heroine arms her husband who i s setting f o r t h to f i g h t the Lydians 2^. Hardy's contemporary, Claude B i l l a r d , dramatised t h i s episode, which remains one of the more memorable scenes i n his tragedies. Hardy chose not to include i t because such a display of conjugal love i s 2 4 Rigal, Hardy, p. 296. I l l i r r e levant to the main theme of his tragedy. In Timoclee. a play of an even more disjointed appearance, a l l the episodes touch upon the unifying point. The play i s based on passages from three separate works of Plutarch; i n each case the moral message i s d i f f e r e n t . It was l e f t to Hardy to impose his own theme on the r e s u l t i n g drama. F i n a l l y , Hardy combines i n l a Mort de Daire two threads of plot, the fate of two monarchs, to present his most complex and profound treatment of the theme of kingship. That he was not merely drawing on the stock of moral platitudes and sentences available to a l l sixteenth-century dramatists i s shown by his presentation of the conqueror as a good king. For Jean de La T a i l l e , the "vrai sujet" of tragedy "ne t r a i t e que de piteuses ruines des grands seigneurs, que des inconstanees de fortune, que de banissements, guerres, 25 pestes, famines, capt i v i t e s , ex£crables cruautes des tyrans" . Such elements are also found i n Hardy's tragedies. But while Daire's fate i s deplorable, Alexandre's prospects are good; while Didon i s immolating herself, Aenee i s s a i l i n g to found a great empire i n It a l y ; and Cirus can look forward to a prosperous future. P o l i t i c a l idealism and optimism of th i s nature were unknown i n sixteenth-century tragedy; they were to be developed i n the middle years of the seventeenth century with the great p o l i t i c a l tragedies i f Corn e i l l e . It i s noteworthy that Hardy had already treated such topics i n his tragedies i n the f i r s t decades of the century. 2 5 "De l ' a r t de l a trage"die", preface to Saul l e furieux. (Cited by H.W. Lawton, Handbook of French Renaissance dramatic theory. [Manchester, 1949J, p. 707T CHAPTER THREE CHARACTER: THE HIERARCHY OP HEROES The protagonists of Hardy's tragedies are, with one exception, noble or even royal. There i s nothing unusual about thi s choice of character-type: Hardy i s writing within a well-established convention. The themes of Hardy's tragedies, as was shown i n the previous chapter, are serious, usually involving matters of state: Hardy i s again following a t r a d i t i o n i n his choice of subject. However, i n his choice of characters Hardy does not present simply good kings or: wicked tyrants. As was noted i n chapter two, there are examples of the just king (Cirus) and of the tyrant (Herode). But into which category does one f i t protagonists who are not heads of state ( A c h i l l e , Coriolan)? What, i n a word, i s the unifying feature which, transcending the theme of kingship, underlies the character of the hero i n general i n Hardy's tragedies? As one reads the plays, one i s made aware that the moral q u a l i t i e s referred to most frequently by the central characters or mentioned most often i n describing them, are "vertu", "grandeur", "honneur", "magnanimity". These terms are used by both good kings and tyrants, by kings and by simple warriors, by women as by men. Aenee claims that: l a g l o i r e au plus haut prix j ' a i toujours achete, Ennemi du repos, ennemi des delices; (Didon. 120-21) and Didon also refers to t h i s quality: Ma pudeur est eteinte, et sa premiere g l o i r e , Qui m'elevait au c i e l dans un trone d'ivoire. (Didon. 679-80) 113 In his very f i r s t speech, Cirus calls' upon the sun, "bel astre de nos jours, favorable a ma g l o i r e " (Panthee. 1), to behold the great vi c t o r y the king has won. In the same play, Abradate speaks of the misfortunes that have befallen him: II n'y a point de maux que l'homme de Constance Ne puisse surmonter avec sa resistance, Alors que du naufrage i l recourt son honneur. .(Pantht§e. 551-53) Atalante asserts that "ma g l o i r e est ma seule raison" (Meleagre. 240), and Th^s^e asks r h e t o r i c a l l y of the assembled warriors: Que n'exdcuterait en sa guerriere ardeur Une troupe qui n'est que g l o i r e , et que candeur? (Meleagre. 363-64) Alexandre can face the prospect of death steadfastly, f o r : N'imaginez, amis, que l a parque epouvante Un qui l a i s s e , immortel, sa g l o i r e survivante; (Alexandre. 525-26) and Herode braves the ghost of Aristobule which has appeared to him i n a prophetic dream: Quelque demon jaloux de 1*honneur de ma g l o i r e Ramene des horreurs funebres en m^moire, Tache d'intimider un e f f r o i de l a peur Un qui, present, resout l e s p e r i l s en vapeur. (Mariamne. 69-72) An important c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of Hardy's protagonists seems, therefore, to be t h e i r sense of personal " g l o i r e " . In i t s simplestterms, i t means for the men m i l i t a r y prowess and the observance of an i d e a l of courage and steadfastness i n battle; f o r the women i t means chastity ("pudeur"). As such, there i s nothing o r i g i n a l i n the idea, and Hardy i s again writing within dramatic t r a d i t i o n . But the concept as we f i n d i t developed 114 i n Hardy's tragedies i s fa r from being so straightforward. "Gloire" i s not a fixed entity. A l l of Hardy's tragic heroes, and many of his secondary characters, have a clear conception of thi s quality as an i d e a l . But, as an i d e a l , i t i s not eas i l y attained, and once he acquires i t , the hero has to s t r i v e constantly to maintain and to increase i t . Some of Hardy's protagonists never develop to the f u l l t h i s quality; most of them, having once arrived at the i d e a l , f a i l to l i v e up to i t , and f a l l back i n varying degrees; some two or three pass beyond the concept of personal honour to a yet greater i d e a l . A study of the p r i n c i p a l characters of Hardy's tragedies w i l l enable us to arrive at a working d e f i n i t i o n of the concept of " g l o i r e " as Hardy appears to use the term, and to understand the various actions and f a u l t s of character which threaten i t s attainment. One way of working towards th i s d e f i n i t i o n i s to examine terms normally placed i n antithesis to i t . The immediate threat to the " g l o i r e " of the hero i s presented by the 'baser' impulses. It i s seen as a more s p i r i t u a l quality, while the passions are physical; t h i s i n fact represents the t r a d i t i o n a l d u a l i s t i c conception of man's nature. Nestor refers to thi s dichotomy i n describing A c h i l l e ' s predicament to the assembled Greek leaders: L'ame et l e corps en l u i paraissent d i v i s ^ s : L'ame tend aux sentiers de l a vertu brises, Le corps penche rebelle au vice qui l e f l a t t e ; Mais, qu'usant de moyen l e pire ne s'abatte, 115 Que ce beau naturel a l a g l o i r e eleve, Le v o i l e de l'erreur incontinent leve Devers son Element ne reprenne l a route, Pour mon p a r t i c u l i e r je n'en f a i s point de doute. (Achil l e , 267-74) Nestor claims that the basic goodness of A c h i l l e ' s character w i l l i n c l i n e him towards honour, and he i s correct i n this assessment, though by an i r o n i c twist this very n o b i l i t y of character leads to A c h i l l e ' s death. Agamemnon states more c l e a r l y A c h i l l e ' s basic f a u l t : Porte du bien public, j'entame une querelle, J'ose un homme, de s o i farouche et furieux Qu'amour aura prive* de jugement et d'yeux, J'ose reprimander devant tous sa manie. (A c h i l l e . 614-17) The clear-sighted exercise of i n t e l l e c t ("jugement") can lead a man into the path of virtue, whereas i t i s i n t e l l e c t u a l blindness ("manie") for him to be inclined to vice. A decision on a course of action to follow must be the r e s u l t of a weighing of alternatives; a f a u l t y choice can, and i n tragedy does, prove f a t a l , even when i t i s made, as i n A c h i l l e ' s case, from the best of motives. The passion which threatens the hero's judgement i s often that of a physical love, but by no means always. Anger at a s l i g h t offered his self-esteem causes Alexandre to act rashly i n Timoclee: Coriolan a l l i e s himself with the Volsques i n anger at the impugning of his honour; Herode, whose main passion i s his love for his wife, i s impelled by the r e j e c t i o n of his love to react v i o l e n t l y i n anger against Mariamne. It i s obvious that, i n the case of Herode, love i s transformed into hatred 116 (Mariamne. 1235-42), and i f , i n the case of Alexandre and Coriolan, we may say that t h e i r anger i s a manifestation of th e i r hatred f o r certain p o l i t i c a l factions and the values they embody, i t may be concluded that the passions of physical love and hatred lead to fa u l t y judgements and are therefore p o t e n t i a l l y f a t a l , whereas the s p i r i t u a l or i n t e l l e c t u a l love of " g l o i r e " , based on good judgement, can lead the hero to complete fulfilment of the heroic purpose. Let us f i r s t study the lower l i n e of unreason, i n which we may observe progressive stages of degradation. In his funeral oration for A c h i l l e , Mendlas points out the dangers of love for the hero; i t detracts from the glory of his deeds by destroying his reason: Amour de tes beaux f a i t s a voulu triompher ... Meurtrier du flambeau de pta]] sainte raison. ( A c h i l l e . 1647, 1652) The nourrice urges Altee to moderate her anger by the exercise of reason (Mtjleagre, 1057-60). By abandoning himself to passion, the hero i s led to commit unworthy acts: for example, from anger stem deeds of cruelty. In advising the Volsques to continue t h e i r siege of Rome, Coriolan describes with obvious pleasure the torments of starvation and the terrors of pestilence from which his enemies must be suffering (Coriolan. 958-70). Simil a r l y , Alexandre determines to deal harshly with the Thebans who have dared to i n s u l t him (Timoclee, 1427-32). It i s l e f t to Cirus to emphasise how the abandonment of reason to passion 117 i s the f i r s t l i n k i n a chain leading the hero to cruelty and cowardice: II faut que l a raison nos actions tempere, Leur servant d'un flambeau d'eternelle lumiere; D'elle l'humanite s'engendre aux braves coeurs, Otant l a eruaute de leurs gestes vainqueurs, Cruaute, proprement mere de couardise. (Panthee. 515-19) The warrior not f u l l y i n control of his passions can also f e e l envy. Thus Amfidie regrets his hasty action i n accepting Coriolan's of f e r of al l i a n c e i n the struggle against Rome, and fee l s that his honour has been obscured by that of the Roman general and his authority over the Volsques undermined (Coriolan, 829-40). But envy i s only the f i r s t stage of a chain-reaction leading to vindictiveness and the desire for revenge: Que j'endure 1*affront? 0 gouffres de Tenare, Ravissez-moi plut6t a votre prince avare: Je n'affecte l e jour qu'a cause de 1'honneur, Et ne saurais s o u f f r i r compagnon n i seigneur. (Coriolan. 841-44) Passionate and unconsidered actions on the part of the hero can c a l l f o r t h equally violent reaction on the part of characters with whom he comes into contact. Such situations a r e f i f u i t f u l of dramatic c o n f l i c t , and i t i s not surprising to fi n d them frequently i n Hardy's tragedies; they lead to the acts of vengeance that one finds i n many of the plays. Blinded by his love for Atalante, Meleagre rages against the envy of his uncles, Plexipe and Toxde. The l a t t e r pointedly reminds the king of the o r i g i n a l passion which underlies the c o n f l i c t : L'aveugle passion qu'un aveugle produit, Nos esprits occupes facilement seduit. (Meleagre. 983-84) 118 Nevertheless, Meleagre k i l l s his uncles, despite Atalante's pleas that he not be carried away by his anger, and his deed kindles Alt^e's anger and desire f o r revenge. A c h i l l e , blinded by love, delivers himself into the vengeful hands of Paris and Deiphobe, who j u s t i f y the murder by saying that the gods, offended by A c h i l l e ' s impiety, have i n f l i c t e d t h i s passion upon him i n order that he may f a l l v i ctim to the Trojans ( A c h i l l e . 395-400). Among the arguments presented by Antipatre and his sons to j u s t i f y regicide i s impiety: Alexandre has elaimed descent from the gods (Alexandre. 882-84), and the conspirators declare themselves to be the agents of divine vengeance. The ghost of Parmenion refers also to the impious nature of Alexandre's ambition: Monarque de qui l'heur fut egal au courage, l e s dieux veulent punir 1'intolerable outrage De ton ambition, qui, brasier devorant, Va, l'univers conquis, a leur trone aspirant. (Alexandre. 1-4) Alexandre denies that he ever asserted his immortality: he had merely allowed the b e l i e f to be spread so that the barbarian races would accept more w i l l i n g l y h is rule (Alexandre. 937-56). Nevertheless, i t i s thi s presumed vanity of Alexandre, rather than his manifestly r e a l acts of violence, that serves as a j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r his murder. The intemperate nature of t h e i r actions, t y p i f i e d by Alexandre 1s summary condemnation to death of Denis or by Meleagre's putting his uncles to the sword, causes the other personages to mistrust these victims of passion. Their inconsistent and 119 i r r a t i o n a l deeds give r i s e to the charge that they have acted i n bad f a i t h . This i s the tenor of Amfidie's indictment before the Conseil des Volsques. Coriolan, "farde dans l e courage, hypocrite, i n f i d e l e " (Coriolan. 1125), has espoused th e i r cause only to prosecute his own quarrel with Rome, and i s now preparing to betray them. The accusations of bad f a i t h are usually l e v e l l e d by mistrustful enemies, but sometimes the protagonists accuse themselves of betraying t h e i r own best interests. Panthee f e e l s that she has violated her p a t r i o t i c duty i n collaborating with the conqueror Cirus, Mariamne that she has betrayed her father and her brother i n marrying t h e i r murderer. "Didon est constamment ahimee par deux sentiments: l e violent amour qu'En^e l u i inspire, et l e repentir qu'elle dprouve d'avoir e"te i n f i d e l e a Sichee" 1. Un juste repentir du voeu que j ' a i f a u s s d Tient un glaive pendant sur ma tete hauss6, (Didon. 155-56) she c r i e s , and the remorse that a s s a i l s her i s t y p i c a l of that f e l t by many of Hardy's heroes. Not only do the "pathetic" heroes (Didon, Panthee, Mariamne) suffer from remorse, but Coriolan, Alexandre and Herode also express repentance f o r t h e i r actions. Remorses i s seen as the natural outcome of y i e l d i n g to the passions, and as the f i n a l stage i n the degradation of the 1 Rigal, Hardy, p. 272. 120 hero. Because of her faithlessness, Didon must k i l l h erself: Didon, pauvre Didon, ne sens, ne sens-tu point De tes impietes l e remords qui t'epoint? Qui ne s'apaisera, paravant que Sich£e Voie couler ton sang sur sa couche tacheel (Didon. 1337-40) After the sack of Thebes, Alexandre recognises the causal l i n k between passion and repentance ("Un p l a i s i r au remords ne f a i t qu'ouvrir l a porte", Timoclee. 2193), and he does not quickly forget t h i s remorse. Wear the end of his l i f e he refers to: l a v i e i l l e rancoeur du demi-dieu thebain Pour sa b e l l e c i t e que foudroya ma main. Combien ce repentir m'afflige depuis l'heure, Voire, et m'affligera jusqu'a tant que je meure. (Alexandre. 119-22) Volomnie v i s i t s the camp of the Volsques to plead with Coriolan, and towards the end of her harangue she notices that he seems stricken with remorse ("Tu ne me reponds mot, tu p a l i s du remords", Coriolan. 1039). Herode acknowledges that the blindness of his passion has resulted i n his f e e l i n g of repentance for the death of Mariamne ("une aveugle colere /[Me] comble de remords", Mariamne. 1523-24). In her lament over the corpse of Abradate, Panthee speaks of her "crime imprudent" and of her feelings of remorse for having caused his death, but determines to make expiation by her own death (Panthee. 1021-24). Panthee has already warned Araspe against y i e l d i n g to passion ("La volupte toujours nous l a i s s e un repentir", Panthee. 351), and the nourrice draws the general inference that repentance i s passion's own worst punishment i n pleading with Cirus to treat Araspe l e n i e n t l y : 121 Je jugerais pour moi, selon 1 1 experience, Qu'un remords a deja presse sa conscience, Plus cruel que touriaent qu'on l u i puisse inventer. (Panthee. 467-69) Nestor draws the same conclusion, that an act of conscience on A c h i l l e ' s part w i l l cause him to repent of his unwise actions ( A c h i l l e . 713-16). Violent love, violent hate and violent anger lead to unreasonable conduct. Once these impulses begin to dominate the hero, they lead him to behave rashly and with cruelty or cowardice, or to commit acts conceived i n envy. Such deeds, apart from i n c i t i n g the victims of the hero's crimes to acts of vengeance, lead inevitably to remorse. While not o r i g i n a l i n t h i s analysis, Hardy presented an es s e n t i a l l y consistent e t h i c a l view of human nature i n a number of important plays written over a period of several years. Moralists of t h i s period and commentators on the c l a s s i c a l authors expatiate upon thi s somewhat gloomy philosophy. But Hardy was not a moralist, and to suggest that the aspects indicated above give a complete picture of the hero's character would be unjust to the subtlety that often distinguishes Hardy's dramatic a r t . His are dynamic people i n dramatic situations, reacting to events and interacting with each other, and i n attempting to analyse them, to " f i x " them, one inevitably loses some of t h i s sense of character i n action. Hdrode, f o r example, i s not simply a v i n d i c t i v e monster: i f he were, he would not be overcome with remorse at the end of 122 the play. Tyrannical he may be, but we are told that he has shown considerable m i l i t a r y a b i l i t y i n acquiring his kingdom (Mariamne. 149-51; 825-56). He has dealt ruthlessly with friends and relations i n his r i s e to power, and yet he genuinely loves his wife (Mariamne. 165-70). His love i s , indeed, only too vi o l e n t : i t changes readily into hate when calumny of Mariamne i s added to her scornful r e j e c t i o n of his love. In the "accusation" scene (III, 1), Herode i s more concerned with try i n g to establish whether Mariamne has committed adultery than with the charge of her p l o t t i n g to poison him. This i n s u l t to his sexual pride results i n his cruel treatment of Soeme and the Eunuque and the violence of his language to Mariamne. However, i n a soliloquy at the beginning of the t r i a l scene (IV,2), the king shows himself s t i l l to be torn between love and the desire for vengeance. He feels that, whatever decision he comes to, he w i l l regret i t . I f only Mariamne would show less h o s t i l i t y to him, he would be w i l l i n g to forget the past; but he knows that his present treatment of her w i l l only make her hate him more. To secure his own safety he must destroy her; but i n so doing he destroys himself. Herode resolves to f i n d a middle way i n t h i s dilemma. I f Mariamne continues to refuse to admit her g u i l t , then she w i l l die; i f she confesses, then Herode w i l l forgive her and gladly take her back as his wife. Even as Mariamne i s brought before him, Herode i s seized with compassion for her, but resolves to harden his heart (Mariamne. 1235-78). Later i n the same scene, i n private 123 audience with Mariamne, Herode t e l l s h is wife that he wishes to save her i n spite of herself, that he s t i l l loves her, and that i f she w i l l only confess to the crime he w i l l forgive her. Sh i f t i n g i n his entreaties to the "tu" form, he almost pleads with her to save herself. Mariamne's only reply i s scornfully to h u r l his past crimes i n his face, and Herode, furious, orders that she he executed the following day. If I have dwelt at some length upon these indecisions and self-examinations, i t i s not i n any sense an attempt to excuse Herode's conduct. He remains the most complete and the most powerful p o r t r a i t of the tyrant i n Hardy's theatre. Herode's soliloquy i l l u s t r a t e s dramatically the vanity and weakness of his character, f a u l t s upon which Pherore and Salome act i n th e i r roles as f l a t t e r e r s . Less hauteur on Mariamne's part would save her l i f e ; yet thi s i s an essential feature of her character, and the clash of the two personalities (Herode's and Mariamne's) provides much of the dramatic interest of the play. Herode's character i s , moreover, consistent: the violent passions and indecision he displays i n the treatment of his wife complement the cruelty and i n j u s t i c e of his reign. Among Hardy's tragic heroes, Herode alone suffers from hallucinations ( i n the f i n a l scene), and conventional as thi s device may be, i t should be regarded as a measure of the depths of despair and remorse into which his violent passions have plunged him. As Jacques Morel has so cogently observed: 124 Les personnages de Hardy ... sont animes par des passions violentes et incoercibles,, amour, haine, jalousie, ambition, desir de vengeance. Contraire-ment a ceux de Gamier, ces h£ros agissent beaucoup, et refusent d'etre l e s jouets de l'evehement pret a. les ecraser: ce sont des heros du d e f i . Les menaces qui pesent sur eux leur sont connues, grace aux songes, apparitions, prophecies et oracles qui leur sont adresses. Mais i l s s'aveuglent eux-memes sur leur destin, ou affeetent de n'en pas ten i r compte et pr^tendent trouver leur p l e i n accomplissement dans l a seule r e a l i s a t i o n de leurs desirs immediats. A i n s i transforment-ils toute menace exterieure en une f a t a l i t e i n t ^ r i e u r e et profonde, c e l l e de l a passion, mais une passion lucide dans son desespoir qui f a i t d'eux des etres responsables, et non plus le s victimes d'une insurmontable destinee ou de fautes anciennes et regrettees. L'acceptation, voire l a revendication de leurs faiblesses f a i t d'eux l e s ancetres de M£dee, de Cleopatre, du 2 Ladislas de Rotrou et meme du Neron de Racine. This assessment, though i t represents a generalisation too broad to include a l l of Hardy's tragic heroes, may certa i n l y be applied to the character of Herode and, i n i t s general outlines, to many of the playwright's other dramatic creations. With Meleagre Hardy depicts someone similar to Herode, but at an e a r l i e r stage of development, i n the process of becoming a victim of passion. Because Meleagre i s not subject to the same indecision and ultimate remorse as Herode the presentation of his character lacks subtlety and depth and i s thus, dramati-c a l l y , less interesting. Hardy shows us the exact moment of th i s change from reason to passion. In presenting the trophy to Atalante, Meleagre i s , according to Lincee, inspired more by love than by a s t r i c t sense of ju s t i c e : Dis mieux que son e c l a i r ton tonnerre precede, Ou que ta courtoisie a. sa beaute l e cede, J. Morel, La Tragedie. (Paris, 1964), p. 28. 125 Ou que 1'affection, l o i n de ce prix vainqueur, Consacre volontiers a ses graces ton coeur. (Meleagre. 641-44) Thus Meleagre i n i t i a t e s the series of acts of passion which results i n his death. Presented at the beginning of the play as the epitome of good kingship, Meleagre degenerates at the end of the play into a person who deserves to be k i l l e d , because he has allowed his passions rather than a s t r i c t l y impartial appraisal of the facts to influence his decisions. Hardy presents i n Coriolan a similar degradation of character, i f not as complete. This hero remains, however, an altogether nobler personage than Meleagre, because he feels remorse at the end of the play, and t r i e s to make amends for his i l l - j u d g e d h o s t i l i t y to Rome. Meleagre allows passion (his love for Atalante) to overcome his sense of piety, of duty to the state; with the hero of Coriolan. i t i s his sense of personal honour that c o n f l i c t s with his piety to produce anger and the subsequent degradation of the hero. In the long soliloquy which opens the play, Coriolan describes how, i n saving Rome from the C o r i o l i , he had been conscious primarily of the public good, secondly of his " g l o i r e " , and not at a l l of personal gain. Now he regrets h i s empty honour, which has given b i r t h to the envy of the common people who demand his death. He finds i t a source of shame that they should c a l l him to question, and he vows to avenge t h i s i n s u l t (Coriolan. 37-73). I f "l e heros de Hardy est certainement i n f ^ r i e u r a c e l u i de Plutarque, ... (jaeanmoinsj l e s t r a i t s d i s t i n c t i f s de son caractere sont bien ce qu'ils 126 3 doivent etre: l ' o r g u e i l , l e mepris du peuple, 1'amour f i l i a l " . Coriolan thus reveals that his a r i s t o c r a t i c pride i s i n c o n f l i c t with p a t r i o t i c duty. Volomnie urges Coriolan to contain his anger, and to submit, i f only temporarily, to the wishes of the "multitude": H£las, ne v e u i l l e done croire a ta passion. Cede pour un moment, et l a v o i l a contente, Et tu accoiseras une horrib l e tourmente, Qui Rome divisee dbranle a ton sujet: l a pi£te ne peut avoir plus bel objet. (Coriolan. 80-84) Coriolan*s reply, as he leaves to face his accusers, i s that he i s w i l l i n g tocido anything, provided his honour i s not impugned (Coriolan. 149). But i t i& nonetheless call e d into question: he i s accused of misappropriating public funds, and reacting with hauteur and scorn for those of humbler b i r t h than himself, he finds himself exiled. Coriolan i s thus set upon the path of degradation: to the fa u l t s of pride and anger he adds i n f l e x i -b i l i t y , lack of magnanimity and neglect of his p a t r i o t i c duty, as well as cruelty. He does not become envious, as does Amfidie, but the Volscian general remains, with his highly developed sense of "g l o i r e " , one pole of at t r a c t i o n for Coriolan. The other pole, that of piety, i s represented by Volomnie, who seeks out her son i n the enemy camp to plead with him to consider the consequences of his continued enmity (IV,4). He has punished Rome enough, she declares; i n arranging peace between Rome and the Volscians he w i l l gain even greater honour as a peacemaker. 5 Rigal, Hardy, p. 327. 127 Speaking for herself, she cannot wish that her son not be victorious, yet his victory must re s u l t i n his mother's death i n the general destruction of Rome; Coriolan would thus be g u i l t y of matricide. The stern l o g i c of his mother's argument reminds Coriolan that p a t r i o t i c and f i l i a l duty are more important than " g l o i r e " . Caught i n the dilemma which has resulted from his i n i t i a l i l l -advised act, he now feels remorse. Accused by Amfidie before the Conseil des Volsques of treachery, Coriolan r e p l i e s that he doubts i f anyone could have resisted this appeal of piety which made him step aside from the path of duty: Las I je ne sache aucun de vous qui n'eut fl£chi, Et par l a piete" de son devoir gauchi. (Coriolan. 1207-08) Volomnie draws the same conclusion when, awaiting with fore-boding news of Coriolan, she emphasises the tragic irony of a situ a t i o n i n which Coriolan's sense of piety w i l l have been the cause of his death (Coriolan. 1255-60). The t r a i t s of character of the admirable hero are i m p l i c i t i n the play just mentioned. He should possess valour and a sense of self-esteem, patriotism and piety, as well as mag-nanimity and s e l f - c o n t r o l . Coriolan possesses i n fact a l l these t r a i t s , except the l a s t : his character thus becomes complex and a psychological c o n f l i c t develops within him. Pride and anger lead him to act rashly, and he remains blinded by these passions u n t i l his mother makes him aware of the tragic dilemma of his situation. He then makes an honourable decision which brings about his death. 128 A c h i l l e , l i k e Coriolan, makes an i l l - c o n s i d e r e d decision because of a flaw i n his character, but Coriolan, because he recognises his own g u i l t the sooner and faces death with greater self-awareness, attains greater stature as a tragic hero. This i s not to say that A c h i l l e i s not e s s e n t i a l l y the nobler character. Blinded by love, A c h i l l e delivers himself into the hands of the treacherous Trojans: he i s too magnanimous to conceive of acting i n bad f a i t h : One je n'estimerais de valables excuses, D'argument legitime a v i o l e r sa f o i : Je n'y consentirai jamais quant est de moi. ( A c h i l l e . 698-700) He makes thi s remark to the council of Greek leaders i n an important scene (11,3) which shows that A c h i l l e i s not only deceived by his love, he i s self-deceived, unwilling to recognise the truth of the situation. He i s aware that his actions infringe upon his obligations to the Greeks as well as being potentially damaging to his honour, but he refuses to accept th i s r e a l i s a t i o n . He reacts i n a f u r t i v e , g u i l t y manner when questioned about his passion, which indicates his awareness of his f a u l t . Early i n the play, however, A c h i l l e expresses his weariness with war and his desire to establish a permanent peace between Greeks and Trojans ( A c h i l l e . 84-96), and he refers repeatedly to t h i s pious intention as the play progresses. He t e l l s Deiphobe and, shortly afterwards, Polixene herself that he wishes by this marriage to unite the two peoples ( A c h i l l e . 907-14; 955-60). In his dying words to Ajax he r e i t e r a t e s that 129 at least part of his purpose i n marrying Polixene was to bring about peace: Je venais sous l'espoir du l i t de sa germaine, Desireux de t a r i r une guerre inhumaine. (A c h i l l e . 1409-10) Ajax, i n his funeral oration, i n s i s t s upon this aspect of A c h i l l e ' s character, that his sense of public duty, was greater than his concern f o r personal " g l o i r e " ( A c h i l l e . 1683-86). Ac h i l l e ' s passion, as well as his essential n o b i l i t y , deceive him into believing, against his better judgement and the warnings of his friends, that the Trojans are not l i k e l y to practise some perfidy. His passion leads him to believe romantically that what he wants to happen w i l l happen, instead of accepting r e a l i s t i c a l l y what i s l i k e l y to b e f a l l . He i s ashamed of his passion, he recognises i t as being contrary to his own best interests and those of the Greeks, and yet he cannot r e s i s t i t . So he comes alone to the temple, where he i s treacherously murdered. Consideration should be given here to three of the heroines whose names provide t i t l e s for Hardy's tragedies. The character of each of them shows thi s same quality of flawed n o b i l i t y that we have seen i n A c h i l l e . The catastrophe i n Mariamne i s brought about at least p a r t i a l l y by a clash of personality. Were Herode not tyrannical, unstable i n his emotions and cruel, were Salome not jealous of Mariamne's authority and bent on using calumny to bring about 130 her downfall, then Mariamne would not be executed. But i n addition, Mariamne refuses to ask forgiveness of a man she regards as a monster. In the opening l i n e s of her f i r s t monologue she expresses her wish to die, to be released from a marriage which i s abhorrent to her: her husband i s a tyrant who has murdered her father and her brother i n order to usurp the throne, and he has ordered that, i n the event of his death, the queen also should be put to death (Mariamne, 309-34). These are the crimes of which she reminds Herode as she scornfully rejects his offe r of leniency. The desire f o r death i s the most consistent feature of her utterances, and though this device was very commonly used i n plays of this period, f o r Mariamne, i t expresses e s s e n t i a l l y a release from genuine moral anguish. The Eunuque and Soeme emphasise her virtue and chastity, and even Herode recognises her courage; these q u a l i t i e s , together with dignity and magnanimity, are evident i n her comportment i n the accusation and t r i a l scenes: she makes i t clear, i n sticho-mythic dialogue with Herode, that her desperate wish for death stems from her horror at th i s s i tuation: Les meurtres perpetres m'apportent plus de d u e i l . ... Mon pere et mon germain rememores je pleure. ... La f i n de mes douleurs en doit etre 1'issue. ^Mariamne. 1366-71) Her scorn f o r Herode's lowly b i r t h , her revulsion at his baseness of soul, and her anguish at being married to a murderer, lead her to f e e l she has s u l l i e d her " g l o i r e " . This remorse produces i n her the desire for death as the only solution to her dilemma. 131 Didon's motivation f o r seeking death i s rather more complicated than that of Mariamne. We have seen above that, for love of Aen£e, she has abandoned the path of honour i n being u n f a i t h f u l to the memory of Sichee. This gives her the greatest reason f o r remorse, and t h i s is-her expressed reason for committing suicide. But Didon i s not simply a woman i n love: she i s a queen and head of state i n her own ri g h t . She has not merely tarnished her personal reputation, she has also abrogated her duty to her people. Because she has succumbed to passion, "rien plus ne reste h [sa] grandeur royale" (Didon. 668). Having placed herself i n the power of a foreigner, she has brought upon herself not only the enmity of neighbouring kings, but also that of her subjects: Vois, vois qu'a ton sujet un monde m'est contraire, Les peuples lybiens ne s'en peuvent plus t a i r e , Les r o i s de Numidie ont jure" mon trepas, Voire, helas! et pour t o i l e s miens ne m'aiment pas. (Didon. 675-78) These considerations help to explain the undeveloped sub-plot concerning Iarbe, who only appears i n one very short scene (11,1), and also the speech by the anonymous messenger (Therodo mante?) which closes the play. The messenger points out that a l e g a l marriage to Iarbe would have united t h e i r two kingdoms to the benefit of both: Union suffisante a. rendre l'univers Sous un joug t r i b u t a i r e en ses peuples divers. (Didon. 2017-18) Considerations which are held to be of greater importance than those of honour add, then, to Didon's c u l p a b i l i t y . A 132 similar c o n f l i c t produces the remorse which leads to Panthee's suicide, though i n t h i s case the considerations are simply those of piety and " g l o i r e " : the 'baser' passions which also destroyed Didon's virtue are not involved i n Panthee's case. In her very f i r s t speech, Panthee states that she does not wish to survive the sack of her country, "1'honneur detruit du sceptre assyrien" (Panthee. 117-20). It soon becomes apparent, however, that her primary concern i s less f o r the honour of her country than for her own. After Cirus places her under Araspe's protection with s t r i c t orders that her virt u e i s not to be insulted i n any way, Panthee gives thanks that her greatest fear has been allayed: 0 dieux, qui fldchissez l e s mortelles pensees, Mes prieres encor vous avez exaucees, Soulage ma t r i s t e s s e , un monarque inspirant De sauver mon honneur du naufrage apparent. (Panthee. 173-76) This i n i t i a l softening of her attitude towards Cirus i s followed by complete acceptance of his regime. "Cette ame chaste et noble c r o i t devoir temoigner sa reconnaissance a. Cyrus; e l l e ne l e peut qu'en abandonnant son pays, et peu a peu l e patriotisme est vaincu en e l l e , jusqu'a ce q u ' i l se r e v e i l l e pour l u i suggerer l e remords du denouement"4. By the end of the scene i n which Cirus gives Panthee her l i b e r t y (111,1), she i s prepared to promise to sway the intransigent Abradate and to persuade him to accept Cirus' kingship. This i n fact she accomplishes, overcoming a l l Abradate's arguments f o r continued resistance to the usurper, including 4 R i g a l , Hardy, p.. 293. 133 his f i n a l objections on the grounds of self-esteem. Abradate claims that he would rather serve any master than the ravisher of his country's l i b e r t y (Panthee. 689-94): he would regard such a betrayal of p r i n c i p l e as sacrilegious ("J'apprehende des dieux l a colere future", Panthee. 711). But his wife manages to turn aside even th i s objection: Pourvu que tu me sois exorable en ce point, Sans crainte dessur moi je chargerai leur haine. Thus, when the catastrophe of Abradate's death occurs, Panthee feels not only g r i e f but r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for his death, since she has persuaded him to betray his natural piety: Ains, mon trepas j'estime une amende petite, Comparant l e f o r f a i t qu*horrible j ' a i commis, Moi, moi, qui te rendis l e s destins ennemis, Moi, qui te f i s parjure envers notre patrie, Qui troub l a i ton bonheur, infernale f u r i e , Corrompis de ta f o i l a pure chastet^, Qui te portai coupable a cette impiete". (Panthee. 988-94) Although Panthee remains f a i t h f u l to her own s t r i c t code of virtu e , she can s t i l l f e e l — and be — g u i l t y of i n f r i n g i n g yet higher obligations. She i s , i n fact, g u i l t y of corrupting Abradate, and of persuading him to be u n f a i t h f u l to himself. She i s lacking i n "generosity", the a b i l i t y to recognise the primacy of " g l o i r e " i n others, even i n enemies, a quality not lacking i n Coriolan, for example, or i n Daire, who acknowledges Alexandre's moral superiority even i n the moment of defeat. With the character of Panthee, we move from the descending 134 l i n e of Hardy's heroes, those i n whom yi e l d i n g to the passions leads to degradation, to the ascending l i n e that leads to g l o r i f i c a t i o n . At th i s point one may also enter a further argument on Hardy's behalf as a creator of character. I f i t i s not unusual for the tragic dramatist of Hardy's period to present a pessimistic view of human nature, to show man as prey to his passions, i t i s less common for him to show man, as w i l l Corneille a decade or so l a t e r , as overcoming his baser emotions and attaining an i d e a l . Hardy does t h i s , and the consistency of his thought i s again remarkable i n a series of plays written over a period of several years. Furthermore, the character of what we s h a l l c a l l the admirable hero i s not an abstract concept, but i s presented dynamically and with human dimensions. In a sense the admirable hero can be too passionately attached to the idea of personal honour; we have seen that th i s i s the case with Coriolan, and I s h a l l shortly examine Alexandre's character i n thi s l i g h t . In both instances the exclusive concern with " g l o i r e " can lead to the accusation, perhaps j u s t i f i e d , of overweening pride and ambition. The t r u l y admirable hero, while perfectly aware of his own merit, i s modest i n that he recognises the merit of others and respects t h e i r l i b e r t y of conscience. The desire to earn the esteem of others i s not the same as recklessness: i n t h i s respect only does Abradate f a l l short of the i d e a l . Cirus, receiving the news of his death, regrets that his general had not balanced his valour with prudence: 135 6 que l'homme v a i l l a n t A de peine a t e n i r un courage bouillant Du f r e i n de l a prudence, et d i f f e r e r sa perte De l'appat de l a g l o i r e en un p e r i l o f f e r t e . (Panthee. 925-28) There are r i s k s which are not warranted even i n the pursuit of " g l o i r e " ; i n other words, i t s acquisition must he based on a reasonable balance between respecting the right of others, serving one's own ideals and prudence. In Panthee. Abradate i s contrasted with Araspe; i f the l a t t e r succumbs to the physical passion of love for Panthee, Abradate i s g u i l t y of f a l l i n g v i ctim to the s p i r i t u a l or moral passion of love of reputation. On the other hand, the hero remains constantly mindful of his self-esteem and cannot survive i t s l o s s . "Qui survit a sa g l o i r e est indigne de vie", claims Toxee (Meleagre. 729), and t h i s aphorism i s true for a l l Hardy's admirable heroes, both men and women. Atalante, f o r example, the prize having been snatched from her grasp, resolves not to survive this affront (Meleagre. 925-26). Since the hero i s jealous of his personal " g l o i r e " , i t cannot be disposed of by others. This i s Plexipe's defence of his conduct: the king can share his crown, but he cannot give away the honour of his uncles: l a cause nous absout, qui parle d'elle-meme, En ce que tu l u i peuxdonner ton diademe, Non pas l e bien d'autrui, non pas 1'honneur de ceux Que ton service n'a pas reconnu paresseux. (Meleagre. 977-80) The hero i s "gdn£reux"; he i s not envious of the " g l o i r e " of others, though i t may exceed his own. The hero w i l l , indeed, defend the reputation of others; Atalante, i n denouncing the 136 ignoble actions of Plexipe and Toxee, emphasises that t h e i r violence towards her i s an i n s u l t to Meleagre's honour rather than to hers, since i t was the king's decision to award her the prize (Meleagre. 863-66). F i n a l l y , the admirable hero shows consideration and com-passion f o r those weaker or less fortunate than himself. For t h i s reason E u r i p i l e i s sure that the Pere of Admete w i l l gladly die i n place of the king, thus exchanging his old age f o r a glorious and magnanimous death: Vois ton vieux gdniteur, qui de garant s'apprete, Qu|i voue a ton salut et au n6tre sa tete; Vois son front rayonner de magnanime ardeur, La mort s i g^ne'reuse estimant un grand heur. (Alceste. 373-76) This concept of magnanimity takes us beyond the i d e a l of the hero as hero and his concern f o r self-esteem, to a yet higher i d e a l held by the hero as king, a devotion to the service of others. Rigal refers to Timoclee. l a Mort de Daire and l a Mort 5 d'Alexandre as " l a t r i l o g i e sur Alexandre" . The tragedies do indeed constitute a t r i l o g y , though Rigal does not treat them as such, since they serve to i l l u s t r a t e d i f f e r e n t stages i n the development of the character of Alexandre as an admirable hero. The f i r s t scene of Timoclee i s c r u c i a l f o r the understanding of the whole t r i l o g y . Alexandre, discussing with his generals the problem of coping with the Greeks' unruliness and intransigence, i s unable to distinguish between his role as king and his role J Rigal, Hardy, p. 358; also p. 384, n. 4. 137 as hero. While accepting i n pr i n c i p l e Antipatre's arguments i n favour of indulgence and clemency, he gives evidence of his continuing rancour over the calumny directed against him hy the popular demagogues. "II s a i t , d i t - i l , a quoi a ser v i l a clemence de son pere, et que de t e l s feux doivent s'eteindre dans l e s larmes et l e sang; on l u i a refuse" l e t i t r e de capitaine des Grecs, dont i l voulait bien se contenter; on l ' a meme t r a i t e d'enfant: une t e l l e offense ne peut s o r t i r de son espri t , et un attentat sur sa vie l u i s e r a i t plus f a c i l e a ..6 pardonner" . L 1 attentat sur ma vie est un crime le"ger Au prix de me vouloir en l 1honneur outrager; Nulle injure envers moi ne reste irrOmissible, Hormis c e l l e qui touche a ce point s i sensible. (Timoclee. 147-50) Antipatre r e p l i e s that Alexandre should be impervious to the envious i n s u l t s of a populace that can harm neither him nor his reputation; rather should he f e e l compassion for them. After continued discussion, i n which Alexandre claims that by temporising he i s giving the appearance of being a f r a i d of the Greeks (Timoclee. 229-32), he nevertheless consents f i n a l l y to do nothing p r e c i p i t a t e l y ; as a magnanimous hero he i s w i l l i n g to allow the insurgents time to repent (Timoclee. 265-66). However, when the Athenian ambassadors prove s t i l l to be intractable i n th e i r demands, Alexandre cries out i n anger that t h e i r concept of l i b e r t y Consiste a vomir l i b r e un f i e l de medisance, 6 Ibid.. p. 387. 138 Ou sa rage ne peut f a i r e plus de nuisance. (Timoclee. 297-98) Thus Alexandre allows his concern for personal honour to blind his judgement. He w i l l destroy Thebes i n a f i t of anger. He does not have the Stoic consciousness of his own virtue and disdain for the opinion of others that the t r u l y admirable hero should possess. The assault upon Thebes i s delayed by further discussions and exchanges of ambassadors, but f i n a l l y Alexandre determines to destroy the c i t y , despite Perdice's warning that the king's passion may lead him to repent his actions (Timoclee. 1481-86). When, i n the f i n a l scene, Timoclee i s brought before him, accused of murdering her ravisher, Alexandre can forgive her the more readi l y because, f e e l i n g remorse for a deed which has been less than worthy of his own ideals, he recognises Timoclee's sense of self-esteem as being of the same order as his own. He therefore t r i e s to make recompense fo r his own deficiency by a magnanimous action (Timoclee. 2324-29). In Timocle'e the character of Alexandre grows i n stature i n spite of (or perhaps because of) his error of judgement i n sacking Thebes. He i s more king-like, more i n control of himself and l e s s r e l i a n t on the opinions of his advisers at the end of the play. He reaches the apogee of his career as admirable hero i n l a Mort de Daire. a play i n which the two opposing kings vie with one another i n n o b i l i t y of character and magnanimity of conduct. Daire, already defeated at the begin-ning of the play, recognises Alexandre's compassion i n his treatment of the Persian king's wife and daughter (Daire. 71-72). 139 Daire*s concern f o r his daughter's virtue i s allayed by Bubace; Alexandre may have defeated the Persian army, but his m i l i t a r y prowess i s as nothing compared to his chastity and sense of honour (Daire. 93-100). Later i n the play, Nabarzane opposes Besse's suggestion that they deliv e r Daire into Alexandre's hands on the grounds that, being magnanimous himself, he would consider such a treacherous deed as criminal. Alexandre, as an admirable hero, could not condone an immoral act even when he benefits from i t (Daire. 629-30). Alexandre rejects Parmenion's advocacy of a surprise night attack on Daire's army because he regards such a plan as being by i t s nature contrary to his concept of self-esteem ("acte d'un lache coeur"). He cannot conceive of not displaying his "vertu" to the l i g h t of day, and claims that gaining vi c t o r y by subterfuge would be injurious to his honour (Daire, 239-52). As a statement of the admirable hero's q u a l i t i e s of virtue, honour, courage tempered with prudence, compassion and magnani-mity, l a Mort de Daire may be considered i n terms of the panegyric. But t h i s i s not Hardy's f i n a l treatment of the developing character of Alexandre. In l a Mort de Daire the conqueror, while remaining mainly concerned with his personal " g l o i r e " , i s presented as a leader of men and as having, therefore, certain p o l i t i c a l obligations. He remains, however, rather a s t a t i c character; the play i s mainly concerned with the development of p a r t i c u l a r themes. It i s i n l a Mort d'Alexandre that the hero i s presented i n the process of becoming king. In the f i r s t 140 scene of the play the ghost of Parmenion reproaches Alexandre for his overweening personal ambition, and goes on to l i s t examples of Alexandre 1s ingratitude to and barbaric treatment of his oldest and most l o y a l advisers and friends, who had been disturbed by the king's f a l l i n g from virtue and had spoken out too bluntly against i t . This i s a sure way, Alexandre i s tol d , f o r the king to surround himself with f l a t t e r e r s . In the following scene (1,2), Perdice plays th i s very role of the f l a t t e r e r , so that Alexandre's ambition becomes enflamed by the thought that he has paused i n his victorious progress at the defeat of Pore (Porus) instead of continuing with the conquest of the whole world (Alexandre. 81-104). The Mage, the second harbinger of destiny to appear i n the play, i s not prepared to f l a t t e r Alexandre's self-esteem, but warns him that death awaits him i n Babylon. Alexandre r e p l i e s that fear i s unworthy of him, to which the Mage answers that taking a r i s k when i t can be avoided i s not courageous but foolhardy (Alexandre. 191-94). He echoes the sentiments expressed by Cirus about Abradate's lack of prudence, and for the same reason: Alexandre has also f a l l e n v ictim to the passionate desire for personal " g l o i r e " . His re c o l l e c t i o n of the sack of Thebes and his remorse over this hasty action (Alexandre. 117-22) are s i g n i f i c a n t . While he does not commit a s i m i l a r l y violent act i n l a Mort d'Alexandre, the destruction of the c i t y i s symptomatic of this same passionate concern with reputation seen i n the l a t t e r play. Moreover, Alexandre does infringe upon the l i b e r t y of others. Cassandre 141 explains that, having refused to prostrate himself before Alexandre as before a god (as was the Persian custom), he had been severely beaten by the king, "eruaute qui me peint l a honte sur l a face" (Alexandre, 302). In the f i n a l act, Alexandre s t i l l shows himself to be conscious of his honour. Reconciled to death, he knows that his memory w i l l survive him: Mes jours s'en vont f i n i s , non pas ma renommee Parmi l e s nations de l a terre semee; Sans regret d'expirer pendant l'age plus beau, Car ma meilleure part survivra l e tombeau, Et mon age, qui fut de petite duree, Je repute assez long, sa g l o i r e mesuree. 7 (Alexandre. 1107-12') Alexandre's character develops i n the play. He becomes, particu-l a r l y i n the f i n a l two acts when he knows he i s going to die, increasingly conscious of his duty as king. He excuses his apparently impious claim to divine descent as a p o l i t i c a l instrument to bring peace and unity to the kingdom. His main concern i n the f i n a l scenes of the play i s to establish the succession, to l e g i t i m i s e his reign by giving his subjects a natural prince. In this l i g h t , some of his e a r l i e r actions may be re-interpreted. The violence of his accusations against Apollodore and the violence of his treatment of the Mage (11,2) should be compared with his expressed concern to establish the security of his kingdom at the end of the same scene (Alexandre. 529-38). His anger at the beginning of the scene was directed at those he f e l t were conspiring to undermine the s t a b i l i t y of 7 Theatre. IV, 76. The l i n e s are misnumbered 1007-12. 142 his reign. Alexandre's cruelty towards Denis may also be explained by his fear that the l a t t e r ' s act of lese-majeste might undermine the king's precarious authority. It i s i n t h i s same scene that Alexandre's dual role as hero and king i s most c l e a r l y set forth. Aristandre t e l l s Alexandre that he should be able to await death resolutely and calmly, i n no fear that presages or ill-omens can deprive the hero of his reputation (Alexandre. 655-64). But Aristandre also reminds the king of his role as "bon r o i " who, "plein d'honneurs, adore du reste de l a terre" (Alexandre. 657), i s assured of immortality. Plistarque having reported yet another presage, Alexandre fears that he w i l l suffer par quelque lache main Jalouse de ma g l o i r e , un trepas inhumain, Et qu'apres ma mort (malheur qui s e r a i t pire) Un successeur indigne usurpe cet empire. (Alexandre. 695-98) "Gertes, l a Parque ne l'epouvante pas, mais un bon prince ne d o i t - i l pas s'inquieter des desordres qui suivront sa mort? j Q Ne d o i t - i l pas desirer assez vivre pour l e s preVenir?" Roxane, i n pleading with Alexandre to take heed of the repeated presages, reminds him that, though as hero he may regard i t as p r e j u d i c i a l to his honour to f l e e an imminent death, as king he should be prudent and mindful of the destiny of his subjects (Alexandre. 757-64). Her advice i s similar to that offered by Alceste to Admete, but, unlike Admete, Alexandre does not accept his wife's counsel. Pride i n his personal reputation remains i n c o n f l i c t 8 R i g a l , Hardy, p. 377. 143 with his duty as king, and the tragedy turns about the fact that not u n t i l i t i s too l a t e does the dying Alexandre devote a l l h i s attention to his role as king. In this hierarchy of heroes whose characters we have been studying, Alexandre represents the summit. "Bvidemment, l ' h i s t o i r e ou, pour mieux di r e , l a legende d'Alexandre avait seduit notre dramaturge: i l y trouvait de quoi s a t i s f a i r e ce gout de grandeur que nous avons remarque en l u i ; i l y trouvait encore ce dont i l avait l e plus besoin, des sujets tout indiqu^s Q et comme des esquisses de tragedies" . In Alexandre's character as developed i n the t r i l o g y may be found every aspect of the heroic i d e a l of " g l o i r e " which i s presented piecemeal or less completely i n a l l the other heroes, except one, that have been studied. The exception to the developing l i n e of Hardy's heroes i s , of course, Herode. It w i l l be remembered that among Mariamne's reasons for hating him was not merely baseness of soul, but l o w l i -ness of b i r t h . Herode alone of Hardy's p r i n c i p a l characters i s not of a r i s t o c r a t i c or royal descent. A l l the others are conscious of t h e i r p a t r i o t i c or public duty, and are thus pote n t i a l l y capable of attaining t h i s i d e a l . The p r i n c i p l e of the schematic presentation of Hardy's characters i n a descending l i n e and an ascending l i n e should then be reaffirmed. A l l Hardy's characters are concerned with honour. Those on the descending l i n e f a l l short of the personal 9 Ibid., p. 358. 144 i d e a l ; those on the ascending l i n e achieve i t , but become conscious of a yet higher p r i n c i p l e of action. Alexandre's contradictory actions i n the f i n a l play of the t r i l o g y stem from the c o n f l i c t between his wish to remain f a i t h f u l to his personal i d e a l while try i n g to f u l f i l the higher function of public duty. The former p r i n c i p l e we may c a l l the a r i s t o c r a t i c i d e a l , the l a t t e r the monarchic i d e a l , and i t i s to the examples of depassement de s o i , those heroes who at t a i n the monarchic id e a l of piety, that we now turn. This i d e a l , once achieved, i s not retained without a struggle. Hardy's characters remain dynamic; both Aen£e and Cirus have c o n f l i c t s to resolve which are of the same order as those of the characters already examined. But by the i r clearer appreciation of the pious i d e a l and their strength of w i l l the c o n f l i c t s are resolved by the transcendence of personal i n t e r e s t s . I have chosen to denote th i s i d e a l by the term piety because i t i s t r a d i t i o n a l l y associated with Aenee, the f i r s t of Hardy's heroes to embody this attitude. Indeed, Aenee's opening monologue establishes his piety: v a c i l l a t i n g between the memory of past misfortunes and uncertainties about the future, and his present happiness, he turns to the gods for advice (Didon. 1 -63) . The stage i s set for a psychological c o n f l i c t between Aenee's sense of pious duty to establish a kingdom i n Ita l y , and his personal i n c l i n a t i o n to stay with Didon i n Carthage where he i s happy. Nor i s this the only reason for hesitation on Aenee's part. He knows that he has an obligation of honour towards 145 Didon, and that to show ingratitude to the queen would be damaging to his " g l o i r e " : La g l o i r e au plus haut prix j ' a i toujours achete, Ennemi du repos, ennemi des delices; Mais quand nous nous sentons de cruautes complices, Quand i l est question de rompre une amitie Envers nos bienfaiteurs plus dignes de p i t i e , Ha! cieux, ha! justes cieux, alors l a conscience Jette un trouble dans l'ame affreux d'impatience, Nous portons contre nous de t e r r i b l e s temoins, Et l e s plus genereux alors l e sont l e moins. (Didon. 120-28) How can these c o n f l i c t s be resolved? Aenee's personal i n c l i n -ation to f i n d happiness i n Carthage and his desire to act magnanimously towards Didon can be resolved by his staying i n Carthage; his public duty can be performed only by his leaving. In other words, Aenee i s torn between being a hero and a king. In Didon also, there i s a c o n f l i c t between love, reputation and duty to her people, but whereas Didon succumbs to passion and i s destroyed, Aenee follows the path to greater glory.' He i s c l e a r l y seen as the "man of destiny", and i t i s th i s aspect of his role that neither Didon nor her s i s t e r Anne can comprehend. In the f i n a l interview, Aenee t e l l s the l a t t e r : J ' a i , ferme sous l'espoir de nos dieux domestiques, Preserve jusqu'ici l e s troyennes r e l i q u e s i D'etre plus du salut d'un enfant curieux , Qu'aceomplir menace l e mandement des cieux, Jamais; l a piete leur appartient premiere, Comme i l s veulent de nous une assurance entiere Que l'on croie du tout leurs oracles regus, Par qui l e s vertueux one ne furent decus. (Didon. 1235-42) We have seen a number of examples of characters who, while Didon i s pregnant. 146 conscious of th e i r pious duty, while expressing the ideals of patriotism and service to others, are i n fact more concerned with s t r i v i n g a f t e r s e l f - f u l f i l m e n t . Panthee and Abradate may be cited; both f i n d that the concept of personal " g l o i r e " i s hollow once consciousness of the higher i d e a l i s present. Paradoxically, i t i s i n self-abnegation, i n the performance of his pious duty, that the hero achieves ultimate s e l f - f u l f i l m e n t . Panthee also provides us with an example of the supreme hero; Cirus reaches the only form of apotheosis that can be attained by a mortal i n Hardy's theatre. Once more, the presentation of Cirus' character i s not s t a t i c ; l i k e Aenee, he has personal considerations to overcome. I f I have placed him higher than Aenee i n t h i s hierarchy of heroes, i t i s because he succeeds not only i n recognising his duty to a l l of his subjects, but also i n being just and magnanimous towards each one. Like Aenee, Cirus regards himself as a man of destiny, embodying a divine purpose to bring peace to a l l on earth (Panthee. 1-14). This i s not ambition, a desire for personal aggrandisement such as Alexandre was accused of; indeed, Cirus claims that i t i s th i s passion which he i s most concerned to combat. It i s a pious duty: "Cirus doit r e g i r l'univers, /Monarque necessaire a ses peuples divers" (Panthee. 8 - 9 ) . The i d e a l of the admirable hero i s not incompatible with that of good kingship; indeed, the admirable hero alone i s equipped to become the leader of men: L'humeur du prince sert aux sujets de modele, II faut, bon gre, mal gre, qu'ils se forment en e l l e : 147 Couard, i l s l e suivront en sa timidite, V a i l l a n t , chaeun s'efforce a sa g l o i r e i n c i t e . (Panthee. 77-80) Cirus r e a l i s e s that personal interests have to be sub-ordinated to those of the state, and that good kingship i s the ultimate expression of " g l o i r e " . But to express a general precept and to act i n accordance with i t are two d i f f e r e n t matters. Cirus i s put to the test i n the case of Araspe. The king has given his word of honour that Panthee's chastity w i l l be respected; for this reason he rebukes Araspe, whose conduct towards Panthee has been detrimental to the king's reputation ("au depens de 1'honneur de moi, ton souverain", Panthee. 477). Cirus would f i n d an offence committed against himself easy to forgive, but i f he f a i l s to punish Araspe i n t h i s p a rticular case, his action would seem unjust and his authority would be undermined: Une faute commise en mon p a r t i c u l i e r , Remissible aise"ment je voudrais oublier, Mais ou vole en public 1'eclat d'une i n j u s t i c e , Ou. mon autorite sert de v o i l e a. son vice, Ou ma g l o i r e p a t i t pour ses cupidites, Je doute quels tourments i l n'a point merites. (Panthee. 441-46) Here Cirus' honour i s i d e n t i f i e d with his authority, which i n turn i s equated with the good of the state. But p o l i t i c a l considerations supersede personal ones. By a double act of clemency, Cirus retains for his regime the services of an able lieutenant as well as earning the gratitude and l o y a l t y of Panthee, and into the bargain Abradate, his most adamant enemy and the clearest threat to his reign, i s won over to his cause. 148 Cirus i s the most complete example of Hardy's concept of the admirable hero, the man who combines by an act of w i l l the apparently contradictory attributes of personal " g l o i r e " and pious duty. At the top of the hierarchy stands Hercule, the main character of Alceste. Although Hardy claims that his "riche r- " i 11 sujet" i s "J_enJ partie imite d'Euripide" , his conception of the demi-god's character bears l i t t l e resemblance to the r o i s t e r i n g drunkard of the Greek drama. Rather i s Hardy's presentation derived from a t r a d i t i o n , to which Seneca's Hercules Oetaeus gives expression, which saw i n Hercules a somewhat messianic figure who, i n slaying monsters, was symbolically overcoming e v i l and whose self-immolation repre-sented the f i n a l triumph over passion. "Une des principales o r i g i n a l i t e s de Seneque est q u ' i l joint parfois a l a p i t i e un sentiment nouveau, 1'admiration. ... On peut dire qu'Hercule 12 sur l'Oeta est par excellence l a tragedie de 1'admiration" Hardy expresses the same idea i n Didon se s a c r i f i a n t : Perfection digne des dieux, Que premier n'obtint a l a terre, Celui qui f i t victorieux Aux monstres une juste guerre, Premier que d'avoir depouille Son mortel dans l a flamme eprise, Et ca-bas l'ecorce remise Des voluptes qui l'ont s o u i l l e . (Didon. 1555-62) 1 1 Theatre. I, 204, Argument. 1. 28. 1 2 L. Herrmann, Le Theatre de Seneque. (Paris, 1924), p. 390. 149 In Alceste, Hercule i s presented as the epitome of the admirable hero, courageous but modest, magnanimous, and above a l l conscious of his personal " g l o i r e " . Admete utters a long panegyric on the demi-god (Alceste, 1185-1208), mentioning f i r s t Hercule's merits as a hero, but l i n k i n g them with those q u a l i t i e s he has i n common with the good king, "appui de 1*innocence, au vice redoutable" (Alceste, 1190). S a c r i f i c e s w i l l be offered i n Hercule's honour, and Admete's people, following t h e i r king's example, w i l l adore " c e l u i qui l e rendra de tout ddsastre franc" (Alceste. 1208). Hercule, modestly declining f o r the present this honour, awaits confidently his acceptance into " l a celeste bande", when, he says, "je recevrai ma part /Des supremes hormeurs que l'homme l u i depart" (Alceste. 1211-12). Though an i d e a l hero whose l i f e ends i n a kind of apotheosis, Hercule i s not subject to doubts or psychological c o n f l i c t . He perceives an ide a l and achieves i t e f f o r t l e s s l y . Junon's h o s t i l i t y cannot make him angry, nor can Eurysthee's blandish-ments disturb his modest s e l f confidence, l o t i n a state of becoming, but of being, Hercule must be distinguished from Hardy's other heroes, just as Alcmeon i n his vicious s e l f -indulgence must be set apart at the other end of the scale. Both Hercule and Alcmeon are non-heroes. In a l l the other characters created by Hardy the impression of the i r dynamism, of t h e i r moving from one state to another i s strongly evident. The range extends, as can be seen, from the outstanding example of tyranny, Herode, to the supreme embodiment of good kingship, 150 Cirus. Between these extremes Hardy presents a wide variety of characters who, i d e a l i s t s a l l , are motivated i n th e i r actions hy t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l conception of " g l o i r e " . c CONCLUSION The tragic action, especially as i t involves the tragic emotions and the methods of arousing them, i s a complex and controversial matter which has not ceased to preoccupy the best c r i t i c s and philosophers since A r i s t o t l e wrote his trea t i s e on the subject. In partic u l a r , the phrase most frequently examined i s that i n which he defines tragedy as the imitation of an action "with incidents arousing p i t y and fear, wherewith to accomplish i t s catharsis of such emotions" 1. What i s meant by pity and fear? Pity and fear f o r whom? Should we perhaps understand i t as fear of someone? What i s meant by catharsis? What other emotions did A r i s t o t l e have i n mind as being suscep-t i b l e of catharsis and thus suitable f o r tragedy? It seems a mistake to approach the tragedies of any pa r t i c u l a r dramatist, except perhaps those of the Greek t r i a d , with fixed and immutable notions of what these terms mean. Rather should one study the plays produced by a dramatist and try to determine on that basis what he understood by tragedy. Por example, distinguished c r i t i c s have done much to r e h a b i l i t a t e Corneille as a tragic dramatist by explaining that i m p l i c i t i n his plays there i s a system of moral values which may seem foreign to us, but which, as we study the problems which confront the Cornelian- hero and the means he uses to 2 resolve them, have, i n r e a l i t y , relevance to modern man . The 1 Art of Poetry, p. 35. 2 Por example, Paul Benichou, Morales du Grand Siecle; Octave Nadal, Le Sentiment de 1'amour dans 1'oeuvre de Pierre Corneille; Serge Doubrovsky, Corneille et l a dialectique du h£ros. 152 moral values underlying Corneille's tragedies are b a s i c a l l y a r i s t o c r a t i c and heroic, the hero being forced to use his own i n i t i a t i v e to solve his problems, and i t seems unjust to judge his plays by c r i t e r i a other than those implied i n them. Similarly, i t i s a mistake to judge the t r a g i c a l i t y of Hardy's plays by reference to the moral values i m p l i c i t i n the •2. tragedies of Racine, for example, or i n those of the Greeks . Even comparing them with the tragedies of the sixteenth century, we are mainly struck by the differences between the two concep-tions. We should do Hardy the honour of assuming, u n t i l i t i s proved otherwise, that the term "tragddie" had some d i s t i n c t i v e meaning for him, and that his conception of the genre was suf-f i c i e n t l y coherent to be made comprehensible by a study of his plays. This i s not to say that the views of commentators and theorists of Hardy's day are of no value i n reading his plays. Let us return to the phrase from A r i s t o t l e quoted above. What did Hardy understand by catharsis? We have no d i r e c t evidence. He did not himself use the term, or one of i t s current equivalents, or imply that he knew i t ; but his system of moral values would J This i s the approach of P. K. Dawson, "Alexandre Hardy and seventeenth-century French tragedy." For example: "Centuries of C h r i s t i a n i t y had taught that [thej power behind the scheme of things entire i s , above a l l else, moral, a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c which seems to be superfluous i n the Greek view of l i f e which tragedy at t h i s time ostensibly adopted. ... With the Greeks, the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of the tragic hero for the eventual outcome of the action could be extremely small. ... For Hardy, however, since moral purpose has been substituted, since Fate has clothed herself i n the shining garment of j u s t i c e , and granted that tragedy i s a record of man's suffering, then i t follows that i f the suf-f e r i n g i s great (as indeed i t i s i n tragedy) the cause of that su f f e r i n g must be equally great." (pp. 87, 89) 153 be much the same as that of his contemporaries, and what they have to say about catharsis would presumably not be irrelevant to a study of Hardy's plays. As Hatzfeld points out, the moral ideas expressed i n l i t e r a t u r e at t h i s period constitute a l i n k between the Baroque and the Counter-Reformation. "The great reform i n manners and customs and the care for souls, and the development of the systematic examination of conscience, are reflected i n a greater stress on the purgative character of epic and drama. A case i n point i s the baroque explanation of A r i s t o t l e ' s catharsis. To antiquity i t had been a l i b e r a t i o n from pi t y and fear, forces equally negative as hindering the mesotes i n a carefree l i f e . To the Baroque i t i s a l i b e r a t i o n from the passions and a stimulus to virtue, a k i l l i n g of the bad and an awakening of the good intentions"^. Edith Kern, i n discussing Heinsius' translation of and commentary on Aristotelean catharsis, notes that "he had translated: expiatio. However, he i s aware of the fact that the term may also be rendered as purgatioi, . and a f t e r having told us t h i s , enters into an elaborate discussion of the concept. ... Heinsius chose t h i s p a r a l l e l i n order to show the correspondence between catharmos and catharsis. thus in d i c a t i n g that A r i s t o t l e used the term i n an e t h i c a l sense; f o r catharmos was used by Pythagoreans and Neo-Platonists to describe ^ Helmut Hatzfeld, "A c l a r i f i c a t i o n of the baroque problem i n the Romance l i t e r a t u r e s , " Comparative Literature 1 (1949), 120-21. 1 5 4 a complete cleansing from passion. As Heinsius t e l l s us, they desired a kind of l i f e dedicated to contemplation and completely governed by the mind. In that manner they would approach God 5 more closely" . Except that his heroes are more active than contemplative, the s p i r i t of catharmos seems to suffuse the tragedies of Hardy, for we have seen the consistency with which he castigates the passions as impediments to s e l f - f u l f i l m e n t , and how he exalts the heroes who free themselves from passion. For tragedy such a view of man1s condition entails two consequences. F i r s t l y , the happiness or misery of the hero w i l l be exactly commensurate with his a b i l i t y to dominate his own passions; and secondly, the p o s s i b i l i t y of perfection must be held open to him. Both these factors lead to the conclusion that the hero's fate i s i n his own hands, that he i s not dominated or oppressed by a destiny external to himself, that tragedy i s , i n a word secularised. Furthermore, i f the hero i s capable of perfection, then the p o s s i b i l i t y of a happy ending i s open to tragedy. I f we may f e e l p i t y and fear for the hero with incom-plete mastery over himself, we may also f e e l admiration for the exalted hero. The tragic c o n f l i c t i s no longer between man's desires and the arbit r a r y and incomprehensible forces of the J Edith G. Kern, The Influence of Heinsius and Vossius upon  French dramatic theory"! (Baltimore, 1 9 4 9 ) , pp. 5 8 - 5 9 . We might note that, i n the second Discours, Corneille uses the verb "deraciner" to describe the action of catharsis on the emotions (Writings on the Theatre, ed. H. T. Barnwell, [Oxford, 1 9 6 5 J , p. 2 9 7 . 155 universe as expressed through the w i l l of the gods, but between man's w i l l to perfection and the forces of his own nature which threaten his attainment of th i s i d e a l . Jacques Maurens has called i t "cette l u t t e intime entre l ' e t r e naturel et l ' e t r e i d e a l qui impose au spectateur 1'evidence d'un heroisme non plus donne mais conquis" . The same c r i t i c goes on to say: "Cette demonstration de l a grandeur de l'homme ne pouvait etre complete sans une reforme de l a structure de l a tragedie. E l l e correspondait a une v i s i o n du monde ou predominait l a crainte, l e tabou, l a soumission alogique a l ' i r o n i e divine. Ce pessimisme herite" continuait a commander l e choix de sujets en disaccord avec l a confiance nouvelle en Dieu et dans l a raison. Les humanistes avaient deVeloppd l a contradiction; l a tragedie renaissante du XVIIe s i e c l e en £tait partie. II revenait a. Chapelain, l e genie d'Aristote, de l a fonder en dr o i t par l a theorie de l a pur-gation des passions et par l a d e f i n i t i o n , universellement admise, d'un h£ros tragique p a r f a i t de nature mais f a u t i f par improvisa-t i o n " 7 . In studying Hardy's tragedies I have attempted to show the importance he places on the hero's obligation to purge himself of passion and to remain true to his ideals — a l l the more important since the heroes are usually kings whose actions have c Jacques Maurens, La Tragedie sans tragique. Le ndo-stolcisme  dans 1'oeuvre de Pierre Corn e i l l e . (Paris, 19667, p. 515. 7 Ibid., l o c . c i t . 156 far-reaching consequences. But thi s w i l l to perfection i s only the f i r s t stage i n a process leading to the king's annihilation of s e l f i n the interests of the state. His attempt to a t t a i n personal fulfilment determines not only his own fate, but the destiny of nations, and i s presented dramatically i n an action which revolves about a moment of decision for the hero, a decision which can result i n calamity or triumph. I f we have d i f f i c u l t y i n r e l a t i n g to these heroes, i t i s not, I suggest, because we cannot accept the importance of decision i n guiding conduct, but because we f e e l that human i n t e l l e c t and human w i l l are not so strong that they can make one single choice, however momentous, that w i l l determine f o r ever l i f e ' s progress. Hardy's heroes seem, i n the i r n o b i l i t y and idealism, too fa r removed from what we understand to be common humanity, and the extremes of degradation or exaltation which are t h e i r f a t e are consequently less capable of moving us. Their heroism and the moral values on which i t i s founded seem a l i e n to us, but we should not condemn, or even make value judgements about Hardy's tragedies from t h i s point of view alone. The only v a l i d c r i t e r i o n of judgement i s whether, within t h i s moral framework, Hardy has presented a coherent treatment, i n dramatic form, of the dilemma facing his chosen heroes. When Lancaster claims that Hardy "does not s u f f i c i e n t l y bring out the tragic element i n his plays, even i n such essenti-Q a l l y tragic themes as those of Coriolanus and Alexander" , one ^Lancaster, History. I, 1, p. 49. 157 might agree that there are weaknesses i n his plays, but question t h i s c r i t e r i o n of judgement as well. Are some themes more esse n t i a l l y tragic than others? H. T. Barnwell has given a categorical answer to t h i s question. "Wo subject i s of i t s e l f t r a g i c : i t becomes so only when i t i s presented within a coherent tragic framework and i s made to serve a tragic purpose. The order of tragedy d i f f e r s r a d i c a l l y from the confusion of ordinary existence, and i t i s t h i s which accounts i n part for true tragedy being l i f t e d out of the sphere of that existence by the noble stature of i t s characters — th e i r s o c i a l n o b i l i t y i s symbolic of th e i r moral n o b i l i t y (which has nothing to do with goodness or badness i n the usual sense)" . The tragic framework fo r Hardy i s expressed i n the moral choice with which he confronts his hero, and the tragic purpose i s the arousing of emotion i n the spectator, sometimes pit y and fear, but quite often admiration for these exemplars of human conduct. The v a l i d i t y of t h i s framework i s never seriously questioned by Hardy's tragic heroes. They accept that honour and justice are eternal and worthwhile p r i n c i p l e s , and that they are acting i n accordance with natural law i n observing them. Such confidence i n reason and order i s outside the experience of modern man, which i s why the heroes of these seventeenth-century tragedies no longer arouse i n us the appropriate emotions. Jacques Morel has stated the case succinctly: "La perfection de l a tragedie exige l a possession de certains principes, l a certitude de 9 H. T. Barnwell, The Tragic i n French tragedy. pp. 22-23. 158 1'existence d'un monde de valeurs, l a connaissance au moins des termes du dilemme qui ecartele l e h£ros. ... Les hommes du XVIIe s i e c l e assimilaient l a l i b e r t e a 1'accomplissement de l ' i n d i v i d u dans une action qui en meme temps s'efforgait d'accomplir l a l o i . Les hommes de notre temps ne croient plus en l a prdexistence de l ' i n d i v i d u , non plus qu'en c e l l e de l a l o i . Le tragique t e l qu'ils l'entendent n'est douloureux que parce qu'ils ont conscience d'enfanter, a eux seuls. un monde nouveau et ambigu" 1^. Having t r i e d to define the correct moral perspective i n which to view Hardy's theatre, I s h a l l now endeavour to summarise the main findings set forth i n the preceding chapters. In the construction of the plots of his tragedies and i n the themes he treats Hardy offers an inter e s t i n g amalgam of the dramatic practices of the Renaissance theatre and those of the developing seventeenth-century drama. He uses the devices, both dramatic and l i n g u i s t i c , developed by the Renaissance dramatists to impose an atmosphere of gloom ani:;:&espair on t h e i r tragedies, and which one may describe as r h e t o r i c a l . This i s p a r t i c u l a r l y true of the appearance of protatic figures i n Hardy's plays, and of t h e i r pronouncements which do nothing to carry forward the action. The same c r i t i c i s m i s by and large j u s t i f i e d when applied to his use of dreams, portents, omens and the l i k e , p a r t i c u l a r l y as Hardy's tragedies are usually devoid of a sense 1 0 M Tragedie. p. 76. 159 of the supernatural or merveilleux. Such devices represent, i n f a ct, the personal intervention of the author i n an attempt to establish an emotional or moralising tone and may be j u s t l y deplored i n drama, especially when, as i n this case, the imposed emotional tone i s often out of keeping with the actions shown and the sentiments expressed i n the play. On the other hand, Hardy managed to disencumber his tragedies of the device of the chorus, regularly used i n sixteenth-century tragedy to present the voice of the author commenting on the action. He uses the messenger's report sometimes as a r h e t o r i c a l device, but also more dramatically to produce an emotional reaction i n the per-sonages on stage. Although he employs the soliloquy too often as a device to provoke i n the audience a moral judgement on the speaker's character, yet sometimes i t marks for the hero a moment of resolution, a prise de position or a c o n f l i c t of emotions. Coriolan's speech i n which he surveys the s i t u a t i o n which has led to his banishment from Rome and resolves to a l l y himself with the Volscians ( I I , l ) , or the soliloquy i n which Herode expresses his hesitations before the t r i a l of his wife, but resolves to be resolute and, i f possible, magnanimous (Mariamne, IV,2), are dramatically as important as the stances of Rodrigue i n l e Cid. Hallucinations and similar scenes of delirium were quite commonly employed to create an atmosphere of horror i n Renaissance tragedy, and Altee's invocation of the Furies (Meleagre. V,l) i s a comparable use of t h i s device. But Herode's hallucination i n the f i n a l scene of Mariamne may 1 6 0 be compared with that of Oreste i n Andromaque as the dramatic presentation of the state of mind of a man assailed by g u i l t and remorse. Hardy's use of conventional dramatic devices tends to obscure the outlines of the action i n his tragedies, but he was aware of the need to subordinate these devices to an ove r - a l l plan, even i f he did not always succeed i n achieving t h i s aim. He presents as much as possible of the physical action on stage, but usually avoids scenes, however picturesque, which would detract from the unity of the action. The proportion of dialogue i n his plays i s greater than i n those of his sixteenth-century predecessors, because he rea l i s e d that t h i s i s the best way to represent a c o n f l i c t of w i l l between two characters. The central scene of his tragedies i s usually one of confrontation, and a l l the episodes prepare for, or resu l t from, th i s central point i n the drama. This i s for Hardy the peripety, or turning-point of the action. The protagonist i s presented with a choice of courses to follow, and i s forced to make a decision. He may make either the right or the wrong decision, so that the outcome may be either fortunate or unfortunate. The probability which produces the peripety l i e s i n the character of the protagonist: he i s aware of certain tendencies i n his own personality, and must reconcile them with certain principles by an e f f o r t of w i l l so that he may act correctly i n the c r i s i s which faces him. The c o n f l i c t between the principles which should guide conduct and the desire to act against them i s sometimes worked out i n 161 the mind of the protagonist; but sometimes the c o n f l i c t i s externalised, and the hero i s confronted by other characters who offer him advice on alternative courses of action. In either case the hero must make a choice and act on i t . The action of a tragedy by Hardy may be represented schematically as a r i s i n g and f a l l i n g movement around this central scene of decision. I f the protagonist makes the wrong choice, he poses a threat to the existence of a moral order governing the conduct of men. But there i s nothing immoral about Hardy's tragedies; i n these circumstances i t i s the hero who i s destroyed, either by murder (Meleagre, A c h i l l e ) , or by suicide (Didon, Panthee), or, perhaps most dramatically, by a complete disintegration of personality and authority (Herode). I f he makes the correct choice, he reinforces the moral order and attains a higher l e v e l of consciousness and exaltation; the examples of this type of hero are Aenee, Cirus, Alexandre, at l e a s t potentially, and above a l l Hercule. The hero some-times has the opportunity to reverse the f a l l i n g movement started by a hasty decision, and to restore the moral order he had threatened to destroy (Coriolan, Alexandre i n Timoclee). while i n some of his tragedies Hardy presents a reciprocal movement of the action involving a second protagonist, i n which the fortunes of the one f a l l as those of the other r i s e . Examples of t h i s may be seen i n the fate of the Persian king i n l a Mort  de Daire and, more s t r i k i n g l y , i n Mariamne. where the death of the heroine i s an affirmation of her f a i t h i n the moral order. 162 The protagonists of Hardy's tragedies are usually kings, or at least heroes who are i n a position to affect the destiny of nations. It i s not surprising, therefore, that the main theme of his tragedies should be p o l i t i c a l : the problem of the p r i n c i p l e s which should guide the king i n a f f a i r s of state. The theme was a t r a d i t i o n a l one, and Herode i s the descendant of a long l i n e of sixteenth-century stage tyrants. Nor was th i s type to f a l l quickly out of favour i n l a t e r seventeenth-century drama. Hardy also presents good kings whose reign i s based not on a craving for power, but on a sense of duty to th e i r subjects, who rule by justice and mercy, not by cruelty and oppression, and whose subjects are obedient from l o y a l t y and affection, not from fear. This conception of kingship i s , again, f a r from new; but i t i s int e r e s t i n g to note that Hardy presents more kings who attempt to rule j u s t l y than he does tyrants. Moreover, his good kings are shown as often succeeding i n t h e i r endeavours; i f they f a i l i t i s because of some defect i n t h e i r own character. Hardy does not show us the p i t i f u l spectacle of the oppression of an essentially good king who has f a l l e n into the power of a tyrant, such as Se'decie i n Gar-nier's l e s Juifves or Cleomene i n Montchr^tien's l e s Lacenes. He does indeed present two contrasted kings i n some of his plays, and the double outcome ensures good fortune for the good king, misfortune f o r the tyrant, as i n Alceste. But usually, i f the king f a i l s to achieve the i d e a l of good rule, i t i s not because he i s ignorant of the principles on which i t must be founded or 163 chooses to Ignore them, but because the contrary impulses of his own nature impede his progress to perfection. In those plays i n which a warrior rather than a king i s the main protagonist, he i s shown as holding a similar position of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , and as having problems similar to those of a king. He i s aware of the need f o r truth and j u s t i c e , of good f a i t h and trust i n dealings between nations as between men, and anxious for the establishment of peace. In plays such as Alceste and l a Mort d 1 A c h i l l e . the episodes concerning the kings are subordinated to the major action involving a hero who i s even more conscious of his duty to mankind than are the kings. Unlike the tragedies of the l a t e r seventeenth century, i n which respon-s i b i l i t y f o r e v i l actions i s shifted from the king to a minister (for example, Photin i n Corneille's Pompee. Narcisse i n Racine's Britannicus), the tragedies of Hardy show the king as f u l l y responsible for his actions and f o r t h e i r outcome, good or bad. He may s o l i c i t advice from his counsellors, but the decision to act on i t rests with the king, and w i l l depend on the principles he follows. The king i s an absolute monarch, and the monarchy as a system of government i s consistently presented i n a favourable l i g h t compared with other forms, such as republicanism or democracy. Even i n a play such as Mariamne. the e v i l s of H&rode's reign are contrasted with the benign rule of the king who was deposed, not with a d i f f e r e n t form of government. The monarch i s at one and the same time the f i r s t servant and the 164 embodiment of the state: provided he i s acting i n i t s best interests, i n accordance with the correct principles of kingship, he i s deserving of the l o y a l t y of his subjects. I f he i s a tyrant, i t i s not i l l e g a l for his subjects to depose him. He may also be deposed by an external force, by a conqueror, provided the l a t t e r proves himself the better king. I f the contrast between the good king and the tyrant i s a t r a d i t i o n a l theme of Renaissance tragedy, that between the conqueror-usurper and the legitimate r u l e r i s l e s s common, and i s a d i s t i n c t i v e feature of Hardy's tragedies. The problem for the conqueror who i s a benevolent monarch i s somewhat di f f e r e n t from that of the legitimate king. No matter how just his reign, his authority i s l i k e l y to remain precarious, f o r i t w i l l be i l l e g a l , and therefore i n danger of being overthrown by rebellious subjects, u n t i l he can l e g i t i m i s e his conquest by providing the empire with an heir who w i l l be accepted as a natural prince. The r o l e of the conqueror i s of romanesque o r i g i n , and i n t h i s respect Hardy's tragedies demonstrate the tendency of early seventeenth-century dramatists to choose romanesque subjects. Alexandre and Cirus prefigure Scuddry's Cirus and Racine's Alexandre, with t h i s important exception, that Hardy's conquering heroes are not inspired by love, but, f i r s t , by a desire for honour, and, by extension, by the wish to bring peace and good rule to the whole world. It i s s i g n i f i c a n t that these conquerors embody i n the highest degree the ideals of kingship that form the central theme of Hardy's tragedies. 165 The desire f o r " g l o i r e " i s the unifying feature of Hardy's treatment of character. As a formulation of man's aspirations, i t i s not ent i r e l y new. Montchretien, for example, gives a s t r i k i n g p o r t r a i t of a character animated by his concern with reputation i n his tragedy Hector, and the need to temper immod-erate courage by prudence was the subject of sentences i n many sixteenth-century tragedies. A l l Hardy's protagonists, even Herode, have a conception of honour and try to at t a i n i t ; they are a l l i d e a l i s t s i n t h e i r own way. As i n Renaissance tragedy, Hardy presents the t r a d i t i o n a l view of man as prey to his passions, to which he opposes his strength of w i l l . "Gloire" can only r e s u l t from the clear-sighted assessment of the motives f o r and the consequences of an action. The passions of love, hate or anger can only be harmful to the f u l l deployment of courage, generosity, magnanimity and chastity, which seem to be the main ingredients of thi s concept of self-esteem. The remorse f e l t by some of the protagonists i s produced by a r e a l i s a t i o n that they have not achieved t h e i r f u l l potential, that they have made the wrong choice i n following a course of action which i s ultimately destructive of reputation. But i t should be noted that there i s nothing ineluctable about these passions. Hardy's heroes are dynamic, not s t a t i c ; they are i n a state of becoming, not being. They create their own destiny by t h e i r own decisions and actions. They may have to struggle against contrary ten-dencies i n the i r own natures, but i t i s thi s i n t e r n a l c o n f l i c t which makes them int e r e s t i n g characters and worthy of thi s type of drama. 166 Several c r i t i c s have remarked upon the importance of this aspect of Hardy's drama for the development of the tragedy. As Lanson notes, Hardy "s'apergoit que 1'emotion s'accroit et que 1'action s'anime quand les victimes l u t t e n t , et quand les sentiments sont combattus par d'autres sentiments. Le ressort de l a tragedie classique est trouve*"1"'". Forsyth i s equally emphatic: " i l parait certain que Tristan 1'Hermite et Corneille ont t i r e l a notion fondamentale de dilemme tragique d'une source 12 commune, a savoir l e theatre d'Alexandre Hardy" . In an important essay, Octave Nadal sees the idea of a dilemme tragique replacing an externally imposed f a t a l i t y . The sense of a super-natural force hearing down on man i s removed; instead: l'acte dramatique est s a i s i au coeur meme de l'homme. Certes i l n'y a pas devalorisation du mystere; mais c e l u i - c i est autrement situ£. Retire aux forces surnaturelles, dieux ou Dieu, destin ou grace, i l f a i t retour a l a nature humaine. Le c i e l oublie, l a scene s'allege de ses bontes ou de ses menaces. Dans l a securite, l e s personnages ne parlent plus qu'a leur propre coeur; dans l e p£ril, i l s n'en ap-pellent qu'a eux-memes. On vo i t alors succeder au lyrisme de 1'immobile deploration, aux infortunes i l l u s t r e s broydes dans l e poing de 1'Inexorable, les modeles d'un tragique ou d'un comique, fondes sur une dynamique et une politique purement humaines. Napoleon a signale ce tragique des temps modernes. ... Ces temps modernes de l'homme expliquent aussi l a naissance d'une esth^tique, qui ne t i r e plus son e f f i c a c i t e du sentiment de l'horreur ou de l a p i t i e , mais de 1 1 admiration; et i l va de so i q u ' i l commande les figurations nouvelles, l e s sujets, l e s t r o u v a i l l e s et l e s avatars de l a dramaturgie. Alexandre Hardy joi n t l e s deux versants sceniques: l'un v o i t s'ache-ver l a t r a d i t i o n humaniste, ou ce mystere encore senti comme exterieur a l'homme constitue l e person-nage et l e dernier mot du drame, 1'autre reconnait Esquisse, p. 46. Tragedie francaise, p. 400. 167 l e tragique comme int e r i e u r ; i l ne l e projettera plus hors de l'homme pour 1'Clever a l ' e t a t de mystere . It i s i n the dramatisation of in t e r n a l c o n f l i c t , i n the presentation of protagonists who struggle against the f a t a l effects of passion, that Hardy's achievement i s most important for the development of tragedy i n the seventeenth century. This i s not to claim, as does Rigal, that seventeenth-century tragedy could not have developed as i t did without Hardy as intermediary, nor that the notion of a tragic dilemma may not be found i n the plays of his contemporaries and immediate successors. We have seen that Tristan 1'Hermite may well have arrived at t h i s con-ception of the tragic action by direc t imitation of Hardy; but Forsyth notes that, among Hardy's contemporaries, Chretien des Croix also exploits this source of tragic action and emotion 1 4. Jacques Maurens sees i n Mairet's Sonhonisbe an example of a 15 play i n which the human w i l l creates i t s own destiny . Jacque-l i n e Van Baelen has recently written, with reference to the heroes of Rotrou's tragedies, that "l'homme ne se j u s t i f i e et ne s'explique que par lui-meme, et non en fonction d'une r e l i g i o n , en fonction de valeurs exterieures; c'est l u i seul qui invente sa vie et sa morale, c'est l u i qui assume l a responsabilite de cette vie, en n'acceptant d'autre juge ou 13 "La scene francaise d'Alexandre Hardy a Corneille." In l e  Pre'classicisme francais, ed. Jean T o r t e l . (Paris, 1952), pp. 209-10. 1 4 Tragedie francaise. p. 387. 15 La Tragedie sans tragique. pp. 214-15. 168 16 maitre que lui-meme" . I f Hardy made a notable contribution to this l i n e of development i n the seventeenth-century tragedy i t would be no small achievement. But he would seem to have done more than t h i s . Forsyth notes the d e f i n i t i v e emergence i n the fourth decade of the century of the two main currents into which French tragedy was to flow. "L 1apparition en 1636-37 de ces deux types de tragedie — l a tragedie r e a l i s t e et psy-chologique, representee par l a Mariane [de TristanJ , et l a tragedie i d e a l i s t e et 'herolque', representee par l e Cid — marque a. l a f o i s l a f i n d'une longue p^riode de tatonnements et l a bifurcation de l a t r a d i t i o n dramatique. L'^poque de l a tragedie ele"giaque, didactique et macabre est enfin terminee, et c'est dans l'une ou 1'autre des voies ouvertes par ces deux pieces que s'engagera l e plus souvent l a tragedie de 1'a.ge 17 classique" . Forsyth considers Hardy's tragedies to be, i n the main, representative of the macabre tendencies which died out around 1620, and he i s not alone i n holding this opinion. But can we not see, i n those plays of Hardy we have studied, at least some "tatonnements" towards a conception of the heroic and i d e a l i s t i c tragedy? If the heroic struggle i s at the centre of Hardy's tragedy, the successful resolution of c o n f l i c t i n a hero would naturally lead to a kind of apotheosis. Alexandre i s presented as the 1 6 Rotrou; l e heros tragique et l a revolte. (Paris, 1965), p. 210. 17 Tragedie francaise, p. 401. 169 epitome of a type of hero, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n l a Mort de Daire, where his chevaleresque q u a l i t i e s of courage, generosity, mag-nanimity and chastity are unalloyed hy any harmful passions. Coriolan, a f t e r f a l l i n g into sin, r i s e s once more to the heroic heights at the end of the play. But i n some cases the hero i s seen to pass beyond a personal i d e a l as he becomes conscious of a yet greater achievement that awaits him. The concept of mjagnanlml'ty;.,; the sense of consideration and compassion and duty which regulates the admirable hero's dealings with those weaker and les s fortunate than himself, leads him beyond the ide a l of personal " g l o i r e " to that which i s inherent i n the concept of good kingship, a devotion to the service of others. The self-confidence which results from the inner serenity and energy he has acquired by his conquest of s e l f , assures the hero that the p e r f e c t i b i l i t y of the individual can be extended to human society, " l a volonte" de puissance et de l i b e r t e , l e desir de c h o i s i r son propre destin, et 1 ' e f f i c a c i t e , qui l u i permettait de recreer un monde neuf, entrainait l e moi puissant et glorieux dans un don genereux et lucide qui enveloppait l e 18 monde r e e l et 1 1ameliorait" . In thi s desire to serve mankind, to raise i t to the heights of perfection, one can see the supreme expression of depassement de s o i , and i n the w i l l which imposes i t s own v i s i o n on the world the f i n a l fulfilment of s e l f and the ultimate expression of a heroic i d e a l . Such an attitude seems -I Q Micheline Sakharoff, Le Heros. sa l i b e r t e et son efficacite"  de Gamier a Rotrou. (Paris, 196777 PP* 144-45. 170 paradoxical, but i t expresses the desire of the hero to establish norms of conduct which are not subject to change and decay, and at the same time to assert his confidence i n his own powers of decision and action. After some in t e r n a l c o n f l i c t , Aenee and Cirus a t t a i n t h i s position and j o i n Hercule i n a semi-divine world beyond doubt and c o n f l i c t which i s as close as one may come to apotheosis i n a secular drama. This i s idealism i n the highest degree, which sees the establishment of a newer, more perfect moral order based on positive values of chivalry and heroism. One may ask once again to what extent t h i s v i s i o n of the world i s tr a g i c . Jean Rousset would deny that the plays of Corneille, of which the e a r l i e r ones at least express a very similar view of the human condition, are t r a g i c . "Tragedie? II faudrait plutot dire, comme Corneille l e f a i t quelquefois, tragi-comedie ou comedie-heroSque; n i le s heros n i l e s climats de ses pieces ne sont vraiment tragiques; l e tragique impose a l'homme une l i m i t e et l e broie sous une force ineluctable; l e heros cornelien ne connait aucune l i m i t e , i l peut tout, non seulement sur lui-meme et sur les autres, mais sur l'evenement, sur l e destin; l a mort elle-meme est au pouvoir du heros, comme un instrument de sa li b e r t e ^ ' 1 ^ . I would suggest that there are not a few points of s i m i l a r i t y between Hardy's conception of tragedy and that of Corneille as outlined by Rousset. Furthermore, I would maintain that, i f one aim of 19 A La Litterature de l'age baroque, p. 213. 171 tragedy i s to express a view of the moral universe as seen by a generation of men, then Hardy, Corneille and th e i r contemporaries were not mistaken i n c a l l i n g t h e i r plays tragedies. For th e i r generation, i t seemed that the i d e a l of a society based on reason and immutable pri n c i p l e s of honour, justice and mercy was r e a l i s a b l e (not without struggle and disappointment, i t i s true) by men of good f a i t h and good w i l l . The tragedy of psychological c o n f l i c t represents the struggle; the tragedy of idealism and heroism marks the triumph. BIBLIOGRAPHY I. Texts of Hardy's theatre. Le Theatre d'Alexandre Hardy. 5 vols. Paris (vols. 1-3, 5) and Rouen (vol. 4), 1624-28. Le Theatre d'Alexandre Hardy. Erster Heudruck derDramen von P. Corneilles unmittelbaren VorlaVuf er. nach den Exemplar en der  Dresdener, Munchener und der Wolfenbutteler Bibliothek. von E. Stengel. 5 vols. Marburg, 1883-84. Rigal, Eugene. "Le theatre d 1Alexandre Hardy. Corrections a. l a reimpression Stengel et au texte o r i g i n a l , " Z e i t s c h r i f t  fur franzosische Sprache und L i t e r a t u r 13 (1891), 204-228. I I . Other primary texts. B i l l a r d , Claude, sieur de Courgenay. Tragedies. Paris, 1612. Garnier, Robert. Oeuvres completes (theatre et poesies). e<3. L. Pinvert. 2 vols. Paris, 1923. La T a i l l e , Jean de. Saul l e furieux, s u i v i de 1'Art de l a tragedie. ed. A Werner. Leipzig, 1908. Mahelot, Laurent, Michel Laurent et a l . Le Memoire de Mahelot, Laurent et d'autres d^corateurs de l'HStel de Bourgogne et de l a Com^die-Francaise au XVIIe sieUle. 66.. H. C. Lancaster. Paris, 1920.. Montchretien, Antoine de. Tragedies. 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Dictionnaire des l e t t r e s franpaises: l e dix-septieme s i e c l e . pub. sous l a d i r e c t i o n du Cardinal Georges Grente. Paris, 1954. Faguet, Emile. Drame ancien, drame moderne. Paris, 1921. "Les manifestes dramatiques avant Corneille," Revue des Cours et Conferences 9 (1900), 240-250. Forsyth, E l l i o t t . La Tragedie francaise de Jodelle a Corneille (1555-1640): l e theme de l a vengeance. Paris, 1962. G i l l e t , J. E. "A note on the tragic 'admiratio'," Modern  Language Review 13 (1918), 233. Hadas, Moses. "Aeneas and the t r a d i t i o n of the national hero," American Journal of Philology 69 (1948), 408-414. Harvey, S i r Paul and Janet E. Hesseltine. The Oxford Companion  to French Literature. Oxford, 1959. Hatzfeld, Helmut. "The baroque from the viewpoint of the l i t e r a r y h i s t o r i a n , " Journal of Aesthetics and Art C r i t i c i s m 14 (1955), 156-164. 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"Etudes sur l e s origines de l a tragedie classique en France. Comment s'est operee l a substitution de l a tragedie aux mysteres et moralites," Revue d'Histoire  l i t t e r a i r e de l a France 10 (1903), 177-231; 413-436. Lawrenson, T. E. The French Stage i n the XVIIth century. A study i n the advent of the I t a l i a n order. Manchester, 1957. Lawton, H. W. "The confidant i n and before French c l a s s i c a l tragedy," Modern Language Review 38 (1943), 18-31. Handbook of French Renaissance dramatic theory. Manchester, 1949. Lebegue, Raymond. "De l a Renaissance au classicisme. Le theatre baroque en France," Bibliotheque d'Humanisme et Renaissance 2 (1942), 161-184. "Du baroque au classicisme: l a tragedie," XVIIe Siecle 20 (1953), 251-258. "L 1influence des romanciers sur l e s dramaturges francais a. l a f i n du XVTe s i e c l e , " Bibliotheque d'Humanisme et Renaissance 17 (1955), 74-79. 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"Chronologie des troupes qui ont joue a 1'Hotel de Bourgogne (1598-1680),»" Revue d'Histoire du theatre 5 (1953), 160-174. Morel, Jacques. "L'Hercule sur 1'Oeta de Seneque et l e s dramaturges frangais de 1'Epoque de Louis XIII." In: Les  Tragedies de Seneque et l e theatre de l a Renaissance. £d. J. Jacquot. Paris, 1964, pp. 95-111. »l a presentation scenique du songe dans l e s tragedies frangaises au XVIIe s i e c l e , " Revue d'Histoire du  theatre 3 (1951), 153-163. "Les stances dans l a tragedie frangaise au XVIIe s i e c l e , " XVIIe Siecle 66-67 (1965), 43-56. La Tragedie. Paris, 1964. Nadal, Octave. "L'ethique de l a g l o i r e au XVIIe s i e c l e , " Mercure de France 308 (1950), 22-34. •- "La scene frangaise d'Alexandre Hardy a Cor n e i l l e . " In: Le Preclassicisme frangais. ed. J. T o r t e l . Paris, 1952, pp. 208-217. O'Regan, M. J. "The F a i r Beggar, decline of a baroque theme," Modern Language Review 55 (I960), 186-199. Par f a i c t , Frangois et Claude, freres. Histoire du theatre francois depuis son origine .jusqu'a present. 15 vols. Paris, 1734-49. Pintard, Ren£. "Pastorale et comedie heroSque chez Richelieu," Revue d'Histoire l i t t e r a i r e de l a France 64 (1964), 447-451. Raymond, Marcel. "Le baroque l i t t e r a i r e frangais. Etat de l a question," Studi francesi 5 (1961), 23-39. Rigal, Eugene. De Jodelle a Moliere. Paris, 1911. Le Theatre frangais avant l a periode classique ( f i n du XVIe et commencement du XVIIe sieclel"! Paris, 1901. 180 Rigal, Eugene. "Les t r o i s editions de l a Sophonisbe de Montchretien et l a question de l a mise en scene dans l a tragedie du XVIe s i e c l e , " Revue d'Histoire l i t t e r a i r e de l a France 12 (1905), 508-516. Rousset, Jean. La Li t t e r a t u r e de l'age baroque en France. Circe  et l e paon. Paris, 1954. Sage, Pierre. Le Preclassicisme. Paris, 1962. (Histoire de l a l i t t e r a t u r e francaise, pub. sous l a dir e c t i o n de J. Calvet.) Sakharoff, Micheline. Le H^ros. sa l i b e r t e et son eff icacite"  de Gamier a Rotrou. Paris, 1967. Sayce, R. A. "The use of the term baroque i n French l i t e r a r y history," Comparative Literature 10 (1958), 246-253-Scherer, Jacques. La Dramaturgie classique en France. Paris, 1950. "La l i t t e r a t u r e dramatique sous Henri IV et Louis XIII." In: Bncyclopedie de l a Pldiade. Histoire des  l i t t e r a t u r e s , 2, ed. R. Queneau. Paris, 1958, pp. 273-298. Spingarn, Joel E. A History of l i t e r a r y c r i t i c i s m i n the Renaissance, with special reference to the influence of I t a l y  i n the formation and development of modern c r i t i c i s m . New York, 1899. Stone, Donald, j r . "Dido and Aeneas. Theme and v a r i a t i o n i n the th i r d book of the Franciade." Neoph.il ologus 49 (1965), 289-297. Touchard, Pierre-Aime. Dionysos: apologie pour l e theatre. S u i v i de: 1 'Amateur du theatre, ou l a regie du .jeu. Paris, 1968. Valency, M. J. The Tragedies of Herod and Mariamne. New York, 1940. Vedier, Georges. Origine et evolution de l a dramaturgie neo-classique. Paris, 1955. Vowles, Richard B. "Dramatic theory: a bibliography," B u l l e t i n of the New York Public Library 59 (1955), 412-428; 464-482; 525-534; 578-585. Wellek, Rene. "The concept of baroque i n l i t e r a r y scholarship," Journal of Aesthetics and Art C r i t i c i s m 5 (1946), 77-109. APPENDIX Plot summaries of Hardy's tragedies As f a r as technical matters of plot are concerned, Rigal's study remains basic and essential for the understanding of Hardy's tragedies, and I r e l y heavily on his analysis of the plays i n what follows. He devotes several pages to a synopsis of the plot of each of Hardy's p l a y s 1 , but combines plot analysis with character studies, with his own commentaries on the plays and with comparisons of Hardy's plays and treatments of the same subject by other dramatists. Some episodes he analyses i n d e t a i l , others he scarcely mentions. The general outline of the intrigue of the tragedies which follows w i l l , I hope, show more c l e a r l y the way the material i s organised and the plays constructed. The summaries are arranged i n alphabetical order. Alceste In soliloquy, Junon expresses her continued enmity for Hercule. She enumerates the prodigious feats he has accomplished and says that a grateful humanity worships him as a god. As a f i n a l and most d i f f i c u l t task, she intends to send him to the underworld. She commands Euristee to send Hercule to fetch Cerbere and, as the hero approaches, Junon vanishes (1,1). Euristee relays t h i s order to Hercule, while assuring him that t h i s i s his own scheme. I f Hercule accomplishes i t , he w i l l be released from his obligation to Euristee. Hercule i s not deceived and asks what Junon w i l l set as his next labour — to 1 Rigal, Hardy, pp. 263-394; 404-407. 182 attack the gods themselves? Nevertheless, he agrees to carry-out the command (1,2). The scene changes to Pherae, where Admete awaits with his mother, father and wife, Alceste, the return of E u r i p i l e from consulting the oracle at Delphi. Admete i s fated to die very shortly, and his regrets are for his subjects, whom he w i l l leave kingless, for his parents and for his wife, rather than f o r himself. The Mere and Pere vie with one another i n swearing t h e i r willingness to take th e i r son's place, but Alceste i s so overcome with g r i e f that she can only promise to follow her husband i n death. E u r i p i l e enters to announce that Apollo w i l l allow Admete to l i v e i f a close r e l a t i v e w i l l consent to die i n his place. The Mere and the Pere now r i v a l one another i n finding excuses not to offer themselves, but Alceste w i l l i n g l y volunteers to make the s a c r i f i c e . Admete protests that he cannot accept t h i s offer, but yields to his wife's argument that he must continue to l i v e for the good of his subjects. She urges him not to s u l l y her glorious death by an excess of lamentation (11,1). Hercule thanks Admete f o r his h o s p i t a l i t y and asks i f there i s any service he can perform for him. Admete re p l i e s that, i f i t were not sacrilegious to k i l l one's host, he would ask Hercule to k i l l him, and, at Hercule's prompting, reveals the circumstances of Alceste's death. Hercule says that, since he has to descend to the underworld, he w i l l bring Alceste back with him as he returns. He leaves, and Admete utters a panegyric on the hero (111,1). The next scene takes place i n the court of Pluton, who gloats v i n d i c t i v e l y over the death of Pirithous 183 and the capture of Thesee. Pluton and Rhadamante are discussing how to punish t h e i r prisoner when Atrope rushes i n to report that Cerbere has been seized, Thesee liberated, and Pluton's defending forces routed. From Atrope's description, Pluton recognises Hercule, the scourge of tyrants, and despairs of defeating such an opponent. Charon enters with a message from Hercule: the hero explains that he i s accomplishing one of h i s labours and apologises to Pluton. He must take Cerbere, but he also wishes to free Thesee from prison and Alceste from death. I f Pluton does not accede to these requests, Hercule w i l l devastate his kingdom. After some discussion with his advisers, Pluton r e g r e t f u l l y yields to these demands, and sends Charon back to Hercule, adding only that his ambassador should bargain for Cerbere's return by giving up the shade of Alceste ( I V , l ) . Hercule and Thesee are discussing further assaults on Pluton's realm, when Charon approaches leading the Ombre d'Alceste. He t r i e s to bargain as his king ordered, but Hercule forces the ferryman to transport himself, Alceste, Thesee and Cerbere back across the r i v e r (IV,2). In Pherae, Admete continues to lament the death of Alceste and f e e l s sure that Hercule has f a i l e d i n his mission. At thi s moment, the hero enters, accompanied by Thesee and Alceste and leading Cerbere. Alceste and Admete praise Hercule's goodness, Thesee t e l l s b r i e f l y how he was rescued, and Hercule modestly r e p l i e s that many years of f r i e n d -ship bind him to Thesee, while he had a debt of gratitude for h o s p i t a l i t y to repay Admete. Refusing Admete's offer to stay 184 and celebrate, he leaves with Thesee to take Cerbere to Euristee ( V , l ) . Coriolan In soliloquy, Coriolan explains how he, the saviour of the Roman people i n the war with the C o r i o l i , i s now having to defend his actions against the calumny of these same people. Volomnie enters and urges her son to adopt a submissive attitude u n t i l the wrath of the people has passed, thus performing a p a t r i o t i c duty by preventing a r i f t between the plebs and the pat r i c i a n class. Coriolan promises to do anything, provided his honour i s not impugned. An Edile enters to conduct Coriolan to the Forum (1,1). Before the assembled Roman people, L i c i n i e accuses Coriolan of various crimes against the state, p r i n c i p a l l y of wishing to establish a dictatorship. Coriolan vehemently denies these charges and accuses the Roman people i n turn of ingratitude and calumny. L i c i n i e announces that Coriolan i s condemned to perpetual exile from Rome and the hero leaves, pursued by the in s u l t s of the people, while the Senat regrets that i t has not helped Coriolan to defend himself (1,2). In a long soliloquy, Coriolan considers the implications of his banishment. He determines to avenge himself on the Romans and decides to jo i n the Volsques i n the i r struggle against Rome (11,1). Amfidie despairs of ever defeating the Romans, who are destined to rule the world. A page announces that a stranger wishes to see him (11,2). Coriolan enters i n disguise, explains 185 the circumstances of his exile and offers his services to the Volsques. Amfidie eagerly accepts his offer and swears to keep good f a i t h with Coriolan (11,3). In the Forum, the Sdnat and the Choeur des Romains hurl recriminations at each other. They regret their short-sightedness i n e x i l i n g Coriolan, who i s now implacably determined to destroy Rome. The ambassadors enter to announce the humiliating peace terms set out by Coriolan. The Senat asks the ambassadors to return and plead once more with the exiled commander ( l l l , l ) . Coriolan muses on the course of his vengeance. He has twice rejected offers of r e c o n c i l i a t i o n and w i l l be content with nothing less than the reduction of Rome to the rank of a minor power (111,2). The Roman ambassadors enter with t h e i r f i n a l offer, complete pardon and r e c a l l from e x i l e , and ask for a private audience to discuss terms. But Coriolan sends for the Volscian council and threatens to denounce the ambassadors as spies i f they persist i n t r y i n g to confer with him i n private on a public matter. Before the council, he repeats his demand that the Romans return everything they have conquered as a prerequisite f o r peace and, when the ambassadors protest that these terms are inequitable, Coriolan p u b l i c a l l y renounces a l l t i e s of duty and a f f e c t i o n for Rome. The Conseil  des Volsques expresses i t s gratitude for Coriolan's help (111,3). In Rome, Valerie decides to ask Volomnie to intercede with her son on behalf of his native c i t y ( I V , l ) . Amfidie regrets that he has invited Coriolan to lead the Volscian army, for he i s 186 now envious of the aff e c t i o n his compatriots f e e l for the exiled Roman. He resolves to fin d a way to destroy Coriolan (IV,2). Volomnie agrees to Valerie's proposal that she plead with her son, because i t i s her p a t r i o t i c duty to do so (IV,3). Coriolan urges the Volsques to continue t h e i r siege of Rome and starve the c i t i z e n s into submission, rather than to try a direct assault on the c i t y . His mother, his wife, his son and a Troupe  de Dames approach, and Volomnie pleads with Coriolan to end his enmity for the Romans, accept t h e i r offer of r e c a l l from exile and establish peace. She also appeals to his sense of f i l i a l duty and embraces his knees, urging his wife and son to do the same. Coriolan hesitates, and the Conseil des Volsques expresses i t s suspicion that Coriolan*s determination i s weakening and that he w i l l want to abandon the siege of Rome (IV,4). Coriolan has been disturbed by e v i l presages and portents and he fears the jealousy of Amfidie. A page summons him to appear before the council ( V , l ) . Awaiting Coriolan's a r r i v a l , Amfidie explains to the Conseil des Volsques that his sense of p a t r i o t i c duty and injured honour have led him to arraign Coriolan. The Roman general had deceived him and the Volsques into believing he was supporting t h e i r cause, when he was merely seeking personal revenge on Rome while waiting to be rec a l l e d from e x i l e . Coriolan has now betrayed them by l i f t i n g the siege. He should r e a l l y be summarily condemned rather than given the benefit of a t r i a l . Coriolan enters, and Amfidie demands to know his reasons for 187 r a i s i n g the siege, f i n a l l y accusing him of treachery. Coriolan defends himself ably, but i n the end has to admit the strength of his mother's appeal to his piety. Amfidie triumphantly concludes that Coriolan stands condemned out of his own mouth, and the Choeur des Volsques demands his death. Indeed, the people are so enraged that they r i s e up and k i l l Coriolan on the spot. Amfidie asks the council to excuse them for carrying out what would i n any case have been the decision of the court, and they decide to return the body to Rome (V,2). Volomnie awaits the foreboding news of Coriolan. A messenger enters to give d e t a i l s of her son's death, and Volomnie laments that patriotism should have been i t s cause. She asks to weep over the corpse and to give i t f i t t i n g b u r i a l , and swears to follow her son to the grave (V,3). Didon se s a c r i f i a n t In dramatising the Dido and Aeneas story, Hardy begins his tragedy at the moment when the lovers are at the height of the i r happiness, but when Aen6e becomes once again conscious of his obligation to leave Carthage. He turns to Achate and Palinure for advice, and they urge him to leave without delay (1,1). Didon speaks of the warning that has come to her i n a dream of Aenee's impending departure and refuses to be consoled by Anne's arguments that he w i l l return once Jule (Ascanius) i s old enough to assume the kingship (1,2). Then follows an i n t e r -lude i n which the rejected suitor Iarbe fulminates against 188 Didon and expresses his desire for revenge (11,1). Aenee t e l l s Achate how strongly he i s aware of his own c u l p a b i l i t y towards Didon and how much he dreads the coming interview with the queen. Achate urges Aenee to f l e e Carthage without t e l l i n g Didon, but Aenee re p l i e s that the success of his enterprise depends on the good-will of the gods, who would be offended by such a cowardly and ungrateful action (11,2). A short scene closes the act, i n which Jule breathes f i r e and brimstone i n his eagerness to be away and establish his heritage, while Achate and Palinure argue for a l i t t l e moderation (11,3). The interview between Didon and Aenee occupies most of the t h i r d act. The queen reminds Aenee of th e i r past love and warns him that his departure w i l l k i l l her. She fears for his safety on the sea, and says that i t would be more prudent for him to stay i n Carthage. As for herself, she has abandoned the path of virtue and honour for h i s sake. Aenee re p l i e s that he w i l l always be grateful to her f o r her kindness, but reminds her that he had never promised marriage and that he had never forgotten the purpose of his voyage, to establish his empire i n I t a l y . Didon asks s a r c a s t i -c a l l y i f he had seduced her merely f o r p o l i t i c a l ends, to persuade her to give refuge to the Trojans. He has caused her to love him, his departure w i l l k i l l her and he must accept the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for her death. Overwhelmed by her love, she pleads with him to stay. Aenee re p l i e s that the divine command takes precedence i n time and importance over his love for Didon. Abandoning her queenly dignity, Didon throws herself at Aenee's 189 feet and begs him to stay, to have pit y on her, not to cause her death. Aenee repeats his arguments: i f the gods had not commanded him to resume his voyage, he would have chosen to stay i n Carthage. Didon bursts into furious imprecations, and f a i n t s . Aenee takes the opportunity to s l i p away, vowing to return when he has established his kingdom (111,1). Didon, recovered from her swoon, sends Anne to make one f i n a l plea to Aene*e to stay, at least u n t i l she has accustomed herself to the idea of his departure (111,2). Mercure appears to Aenee i n a dream to remind him of his mission and to warn him that Didon i s preparing to expiate her honour i n Trojan blood. kenie orders the Trojans to make ready f o r immediate departure (IV,1). Anne enters to beg Aene"e to stay, or at least to take Didon with him. Aenee repeats his arguments for leaving, which, as he had foreseen, Anne i s incapable of understanding, and his promise to return (IV,2). Didon watches Aenee's ships depart: the f a t a l omens have been confirmed. Determined on death, she c a l l s down curses upon the Trojans and t h e i r descendants. To her.sister she d i s -simulates her resolve to die i n asking for her help i n preparing a magic r i t u a l to cure her of love; but i n a long soliloquy she repeats that only i n death can she regain her l o s t virtue (IV,3). Her feelings of g u i l t and remorse are the burden of Didon's soliloquy which opens the l a s t act. Preparations f o r the s a c r i -f i c e follow, and the queen k i l l s herself. Anne utters a lament over the corpse and would k i l l herself too, but the Choeur urges her to take over the reins of government from her s i s t e r ( V , l ) . 190 Mariamne The ghost of Aristobule appears to Herode i n a dream. He recounts the king's tyranny, how he has perjured the trust placed i n him and usurped the throne, predicts that he w i l l cause Mariamne*s death, and promises the punishment of the gods so that Herode may serve as an example to other kings who might abuse th e i r divine trust (1,1). Herode awakens, s t a r t l e d by his dream. In soliloquy, he recounts the acts of cruelty and repression by which he has r i s e n to and maintains the throne. He explains to Pherore that, while he apparently has a l l the wealth and power anyone could desire, i n r e a l i t y he has nothing because he lacks the love of his wife. Salome claims that Mariamne intends to destroy Herode and his empire, and be the rui n of them a l l . Hdrode accuses his brother and s i s t e r of envy and rancour towards Mariamne, and while Pherore protests that he has no intention of calumniating the queen, Salome declares that she i s sure that Mariamne has plotted against the l i f e of the king. But Herode cannot fear f o r his l i f e at her hands and, with imprecations against Pherore and Salome, leaves to see his wife. Salome, l e f t alone, swears to bring about Mariamne's death (1,2). Mariamne utters a long monologue i n which she describes her deplorable situation. Married to an inhuman tyrant, the murderer of her father and brother, she wishes only for death and to bring about Herode's death. The nourrice t r i e s to dissuade Mariamne from her purpose, and a lengthy discussion ensues, terminated by the a r r i v a l of a page to c a l l 191 the queen to the king's private apartment (11,1). Salome t r i e s to persuade the Echanson to convince Herode that Mariamne has t r i e d several times to suborn him into poisoning the king. Herode must be protected against himself, blinded as he i s by his infatuation with a woman who seeks his death. The Echanson demurs, f e a r f u l of the king's wrath i f he accuses the queen. Salome promises to support him, and appeals to his l o y a l t y to the king. The Echanson reluctantly agrees to bear fal s e witness since the king's safety i s at stake and since he trusts Salome to be working i n the king's best interests (11,2). Herode leaves his apartment i n a fury. Mariamne has again refused her conjugal duty and he came close to k i l l i n g her there and then. Salome warns him that Mariamne's scorn may become active p l o t t i n g against his l i f e , and Herode r e p l i e s that he can never trust her again. Pherore enters and utters a diatribe against women, and Herode agrees that his love for Mariamne has made him forget his heroic ambitions. The Echanson asks to speak privately with the king, and as they withdraw, Salome t e l l s Pherore that she suspects Mariamne of p l o t t i n g to poison Herode. Phe"rore comments that the Echanson has chosen an appropriate time to report the matter, since the king i s angry with Mariamne. Herode re-enters, even more furious, and Pherore suggests that Mariamne be brought to face her accuser. Salome, anxious f o r the success of her plan, says that the Echanson, intimidated by the queen's presence, might retract his accusation; but He"rode r e p l i e s that he must preserve at least the form of ju s t i c e . Mariamne i s 192 brought i n and accused by Herode of having plotted to murder him. Who are her accomplices and what are her motives? Mariamne, for the moment dumb-founded, says that she w i l l confess to anything, since she only wishes to die anyway. She has known for some time that Herode would order her death one day, and this act removes the uncertainty. When Herode demands to know the meaning of her remarks, Mariamne re p l i e s that she had been told that, i f Herode died while absent from his c a p i t a l , the queen was to be put to death as well. Herode r e a l i s e s that Soeme has revealed to Mariamne his secret orders, and commands that Soeme and his confidant, the Eunuque. be brought before him. The king suspects that Mariamne has learnt his secret by becoming Soeme's mistress, but the queen r i d i c u l e s Herode's suspicions: her honour would not allow her to commit adultery. They hurl i n s u l t s and recriminations at one another, and Herode seems about to forgive Mariamne when the Eunuque i s brought i n . Under threat of torture, the Eunuque admits that Soeme told the queen of Herode's order, but resolutely denies that his master and Mariamne were lovers; the queen i s too virtuous for such a thing to be possible. Herode sends the Eunuque to be tortured u n t i l he confesses. Mariamne p i t i e s his fate and continues to deny that she has been u n f a i t h f u l . Soeme i s brought before Herode and says that, having heard a rumour that the king was dead, he had sought to secure his position and the queen's favour by revealing the king's secret. He begs Herode's forgiveness, but the l a t t e r says that repentance has 193 come too l a t e and demands that Soeme confess to having been Mariamne1s lover. When Soeme swears to the virtue and chastity of the queen, Herode orders that he also be tortured and that Mariamne be imprisoned to await further questioning ( I I I , l ) . In prison, Mariamne repeats her hatred for Herode and her wish to die. The PreVot enters to take her before Herode,. where she w i l l be confronted with her accuser, the Echanson ( I V , l ) . Awaiting Mariamne's a r r i v a l , Herode speaks at length of the indecision he f e e l s , torn between love and anger. I f his wife would show less h o s t i l i t y towards him, i f she would confess her g u i l t , he would gladly forgive her. As Mariamne i s brought i n he i s seized by compassion, but hardens his heart. Addressing the assembled court, he swears to be impartial i n t h i s a f f a i r and orders the Echanson to present his accusation. The Echanson asks to be excused, since he has already given his evidence i n private to Herode, but the king i n s i s t s that he repeat his accu-sation before the accused. The Echanson then affirms that Mariamne had t r i e d to persuade him to poison the king, but asks Herode to pardon her. Mariamne denounces the Echanson*s perfidy, but forgives him, as she wants to die anyway. At Herode's insistence that she answer the accusation, Mariamne r e p l i e s that i t i s a matter of indifference to her whether she plead g u i l t y or not g u i l t y . She w i l l confess to any crime, provided she be put to death and released from his hands. She questions the competence of a judge who i s also the injured party, and Herode, claiming that a counter-accusation i s a sign of g u i l t , demands her confession. He dismisses the court so that he can question the queen i n private, and Pherore and Salome fear that Herode may be swayed by his love f o r Mariamne. Herode t e l l s Mariamne that he s t i l l loves her, that he wishes to save her i n spite of herself, and that i f she w i l l only confess he w i l l forgive her. Mariamne re p l i e s that she cannot confess to a crime, the very suspicion of which outrages her innocence and her honour. At the end of a scene i n which Mariamne becomes increasingly scornful and reproachful and Herode increasingly angry, Mariamne assures Herode that, i f she had had the strength and the opportunity, she would Indeed have murdered him and c a l l s upon him to k i l l her: i t seems that he dare not. Herode r e c a l l s the court and orders that Mariamne be executed the following day (IV,2). The messenger enters to Hdrode and reports at length Mariamne's execution. Herode laments her death and then gradually goes out of his mind. He cries out to his subjects to r i s e up and k i l l him. He cannot believe Mariamne i s dead, then imagines he sees her vengeful ghost approaching to carry him off to H e l l . Phe'rore and Salome enter and try to calm and reassure the king, but Herode i s f i r s t of a l l too absorbed i n the horror of the i n f e r n a l v i s i o n to heed them, and then drives them from him with curses for having taken Mariamne from him. The king i s l e f t alone to regret the death of Mariamne, and he declares he w i l l erect an a l t a r to her where he w i l l not cease to pray for her forgiveness ( V , l ) . 195 Meleagre The play opens with a prayer by the hero to Diana to remove the scourge which i s ravaging his kingdom and destroying the glory of his reign. The Choeur de peuple. followed shortly by a Troupe de paysans. complain of th e i r deprivations and remind the king of his duty to protect his people. Meleagre promises to r i d them of the boar and, receiving news of the beast from his huntsmen, sends a messenger to assemble the Argonauts (1,1). Atalante i s seen preparing to j o i n the hunt, and she speaks of her delight i n the chase. The Choeur de f i l l e s . f e a r f u l , advises prudence (11,1). The hunters assemble and ta l k of th e i r valour and the glory of the hunt. Atalante joins them and i s subjected to the gallantry of Meleagre and the teasing of Thesde. A huntsman reports on the whereabouts of the boar (11,2). The Choeur de peuple awaits news of the expe-d i t i o n , and expresses i t s fears, hopes and prayers i n a choral ode. The messenger arrives to give a short and graphic report of the hunt. He stresses major part played by Meleagre i n k i l l i n g the beast (111,1). Meleagre and the Argonauts have returned j o y f u l l y from the chase. Thesee, asked by the king to nominate the hunter who has shown the most valour and to whom t t h e e prize of the boar's head i s to be awarded, names, first.", Meleagre, and i n second place Atalante. Meleagre declines the primacy i n favour of Atalante, and i n the general discussion which follows Pirithotls asserts that the king i s denigrating the glory of his own achievement, while Linc£e suggests that love 196 rather than justice has influenced Meleagre's decision. Mut-ter ings of discontent are heard from Plexipe and Toxee (111,2). In the next scene the king's uncles become more vehement i n thei r protests against this affront to the i r honour and they resolve to take the prize by force from Atalante (IV,1). The heroine and her attendants are quietly celebrating the vict o r y over the boar when Plexipe and Toxee burst i n , i n s u l t Atalante and seize the boar's head. Atalante i s l e f t to complain of the indignity and to stress that t h e i r action i s an affront to the king's honour and authority (IV,2). Meleagre i s s o l i l o q u i z i n g about his love f o r Atalante when she enters to complain of her dishonour at the hands of his uncles. Meleagre denounces this i n s u l t to his authority and, despite Atalante's pleas that he be not precipitate i n his rage, he vows to punish the criminals. Plexipe and Toxee are brought before him and, when they refuse to return the trophy and apologise to Atalante, Meleagre k i l l s them, claiming that the jus t i c e of this punishment restores his authority as king (IV,3). Altee swears to avenge her brothers' murder, for Meleagre i s g u i l t y of a sacrilegious act, that of parricide. She overcomes the objections of the nourrice that i t w i l l be not only parricide but also regicide i f she k i l l s her s.on and, alone, prepares with incantations Meleagre's death ( V , l ) . Meleagre and Atalante discuss a dream the heroine has had, fore-t e l l i n g the king's death. Suddenly Meleagre i s struck by a strange but agonising pain, and i s borne off-stage to die (V,2). The messenger arrives to report her son's death to Alt£e, and 197 she i s l e f t t o p o i n t e x u l t a n t l y the moral o f the k i n g ' s abuse of power and t h e j u s t i c e o f h e r revenge (V,3). I a Mort d ' A c h i l l e The ghost o f P a t r o c l e appears t o A c h i l l e as he s l e e p s , w a r n i n g h i s f r i e n d t h a t he i s f a t e d t o d i e a t the hands o f the most cowardly o f men. A c h i l l e wakes, speaks of h i s overwhelming l o v e f o r P o l i x e n e , but doubts i f t h e T r o j a n p r i n c e s s can ever l o o k k i n d l y on him. N e s t o r e n t e r s as the emis s a r y o f the Greek l e a d e r s t o d i s c o v e r t h e t r u t h o f the rumours o f A c h i l l e ' s l o v e . The t r u t h soon becomes ap p a r e n t , and when N e s t o r reminds A c h i l l e o f t h e dangers o f l o v e i n g e n e r a l and l o v e f o r a T r o j a n i n particu&lzar, A c h i l l e accuses the Greeks o f showing t h e i r u s u a l i n g r a t i t u d e towards him. He l e a v e s t o t h i n k about the problem (1,1). I n the c o u n c i l o f the Greek l e a d e r s , Agamemnon argues t h a t they s h o u l d break o f f the p r e s e n t t r u c e which i s a l l o w i n g the T r o j a n s t o r e g a i n s t r e n g t h , p a r t i c u l a r l y as he s u s p e c t s t h a t t h e l o v e - s i c k A c h i l l e w i l l a f f o r d them no h e l p . Menelas and A j a x doubt t h e t r u t h o f the rumour. N e s t o r e n t e r s t o c o n f i r m t h a t A c h i l l e i s i n l o v e , but argues t h a t s y m p a t h e t i c treatment and h i s own n a t u r a l v i r t u e w i l l soon enable him t o r e a s s e r t h i s good judgement. Menelas and A j a x a c c e p t N e s t o r ' s r e a s o n i n g , and Agamemnon, d e s p i t e h i s m i s g i v i n g s , agrees t o a b i d e by the m a j o r i t y d e c i s i o n and asks N e s t o r t o b r i n g A c h i l l e b e f o r e the c o u n c i l the f o l l o w i n g day (1,2). I n Troy, a n o t h e r d i s c u s s i o n about A c h i l l e ' s l o v e f o r P o l i x e n e i s t a k i n g p l a c e between P r i a m , 198 Paris and Deiphobe. The king i s inclined to grant A c h i l l e ' s s u i t to marry Polixene, which w i l l be a means of ending the war, but his sons see i n the Greek's infatuation with their s i s t e r a means rather of treacherously murdering him. They manage to overcome Priam's objections, and the king summons the Greek ambassador, Niree, to t e l l him that they agree to A c h i l l e ' s s u i t and that the marriage should take place while the truce i s s t i l l i n effect ( I I , l ) . In his tent, A c h i l l e soliloquizes on the anguish of love. Nir£e enters to t e l l him of the success of his mission, and A c h i l l e sends the ambassador back to Troy with instructions that Polixene and the Trojan representatives meet him (Achille) at the Temple of Apollo. Nestor arrives to conduct the hero before the Greek council (11,2). In council, Agamemnon complains of the d i f f i c u l t y of dealing with the hyper-sensitive A c h i l l e . The hero enters and, under questioning by Agamemnon and encouragement by the other Greek leaders, r e l u c -tantly confesses to his love for Polixene. Asked his opinion about whether to break the truce, A c h i l l e feels that his si n c e r i t y and good f a i t h are under attack and h a s t i l y leaves the meeting. The Greek leaders can only regret his a l l too obvious change i n attitude to the war (11,3). In Troy, Paris and Ddiphobe discuss with Polixene the forthcoming interview with A c h i l l e , and the brothers t e l l Polixene that she must aid them i n the i r plan to murder A c h i l l e by a l l a y i n g any doubts he might have about her true feelings (111,1). As they set off for the meeting, A c h i l l e questions his messenger as to which 199 Trojans to expect to meet. When they reach the temple, he dismisses his followers and advances alone to jo i n the Trojans. He i s greeted c o r d i a l l y hy Paris and Deiphobe, who then d i s c r e t e l y r e t i r e to leave the lovers en tete-a-tete. In the long interview which follows, A c h i l l e speaks ardently and sincerely of his love, while Polixene pretends to be demure and then to return his passion. When Paris and Deiphobe return, arrangements are made for the marriage to take place at the Temple of Apollo the following day (III,2). In Troy, Priam f a i l s i n his l a s t minute attempt to dissuade Paris and Deiphobe from carrying out the i r treacherous plot. When the king leaves, his sons arrange the de t a i l s of the plan and set off for the rendez-vous (IV,1). On his way to the temple, A c h i l l e prays to the gods to forgive him his crimes against the Trojans and to bless his marriage, but he feels presentiments of e v i l . At the temple he meets Deiphobe and they discuss the forthcoming marriage. Suddenly Paris leaps out and stabs A c h i l l e while Deiphobe pinions his arms. A c h i l l e f a l l s mortally wounded, and the Trojans r e t i r e to the c i t y to summon help. A Greek soldier, having heard a noise, approaches and finds the dying hero. He c a l l s for help and Ajax runs up. To him A c h i l l e explains the circumstances of his murder and dies. Ajax i s lamenting the death of the hero when a messenger announces that a Trojan force i s headed i n th e i r d i r e c t i o n to seize A c h i l l e ' s body. Ajax guards the corpse while the messenger summons the Greeks (IV,2). The fi g h t over the corpse of A c h i l l e . Paris harangues the Trojan troops; 200 Ajax harangues the Greeks. Skirmish; the Trojans f l e e back into the c i t y ( V , l ) . A l l the Greek leaders enter to utter the lament and panegyric on the hero. As a f i n a l act, Ulysse i s sent to fetch Pyrrhus to take his father's place, so that the Trojan war may continue (V,2). Ia Mort d fAlexandre The ghost of Parmenion appears i n a dream to Alexandre, recounts instances of his tyranny and prophesies his death (1,1). Alexandre awakens, troubled at f i r s t by this v i s i o n , but deciding to think no more about i t , he discusses with Perdice and Antigone the return to Babylon. He regrets the sack of Thebes and swears that he has t r i e d to atone for this i l l - c o n s i d e r e d action by bringing peace to the whole world. A Mage enters to warn Alexandre that death awaits him i n Babylon, but the king declares he does not fear to die provided he can leave his empire secure (1,2). The conspirators, Antipatre and his sons Cassandre and Iolas, discuss t h e i r grievances against Alexandre and plot his murder. During the banquet that Medie i s to give the king, Iolas w i l l mix poison with his wine. Antipatre assures his sons that there i s no danger of detection i f they continue to dissimulate l o y a l t y to Alexandre (11,1). Alexandre r a i l s against the perfidy of Apollodore, his viceroy i n Babylon, who has consulted an oracle to learn the king's destiny. Alexandre sees i n t h i s action a plot to s t i r up revolt against his authority. A Mage reveals d e t a i l s of the votary s a c r i f i c e and 2 0 1 divination. Alexandre i s disturbed by the gloomy omen, but once again i s less worried about death than the security of his kingdom (11,2). In the royal palace i n Babylon, a page stands before the throne-room, t e r r i f i e d by the apparition he has seen seated on the throne. Alexandre approaches, and the page warns him not to go into the room. The king sends for Aristandre, the high-priest, and together they enter the room, where Aristandre questions the figure. The man i s a prisoner who, under instructions from a god, has dressed i n the king's robe and crown and sat on the throne. Aristandre advises Alexandre to s a c r i f i c e the prisoner to propitiate the gods, and the man i s dragged out, cursing Alexandre and prophesying his imminent death. The king and the high-priest are discussing ways to prevent these recurring e v i l omens, when Plistarque reports yet another presage. In the royal park a goat has challenged and k i l l e d a l i o n . Alexandre sees i n these presages a prediction that he w i l l die at the hands of a coward and that his throne w i l l be usurped by an unworthy successor. Aristandre says that he should take advantage of these warnings to f o r e s t a l l disaster, but Alexandre r e p l i e s that he i s surrounded by t r a i t o r s and regrets that his attempts to reign j u s t l y have been constantly thwarted by treachery. Roxane enters, and Alexandre asks to be . l e f t alone with his queen ( I I I , l ) . Roxane begs Alexandre to take heed of the constant presages: i f he cares nothing for his own l i f e , he should be mindful of the well-being of the kingdom and of his heir with whom she i s pregnant. Alexandre 2 0 2 assures her that he w i l l leave Babylon at the e a r l i e s t oppor-tunity as Medie arrives to escort him to the banquet ( 1 1 1 , 2 ) . Alone outside the banquetting h a l l , Gassandre rejoices that the king w i l l soon be dead. Alexandre has drunk from the poisoned cup, and Cassandre had to leave the h a l l l e s t his joy be seen. He stops a page who i s on his way to fetch doctors and learns that Alexandre i s being brought hither. Cassandre exults that the tyrant w i l l soon be brought low and leaves as Alexandre i s carried i n (IV,1). Alexandre c r i e s out against the i n v i s i b l e enemy which i s attacking him and that he cannot combat. He i s concerned that, r u l e r of half the world, he w i l l not l i v e to bring peace to the other half. Perdice and Antigone offer platitudinous consolations, but Alexandre regrets only that he has no heir and that his benevolent reign has brought nothing but conspiracy and revolt against him, leading to his murder by t r a i t o r s . The doctor enters to examine Alexandre, and advises him to take to his bed. Alexandre i s protesting that an emperor should die on his feet, when an access of pain causes him to f a i n t , and the doctor orders that he be put to bed (IV,2 ) . The Choeur d'Argyraspides laments Alexandre's impending death, and resolves to bid him farewell before he dies. In the king's chamber, Alexandre, reconciled to his fate, speaks of the disrup-t i o n that may follow his death, and of the provisions he must make for the future. He i s interrupted by the entrance of the Choeur d 1Argyraspides. Alexandre, bidding his most l o y a l soldiers farewell, urges them to remain united and to pursue his 203 ideals. The Choeur expresses i t s l o y a l t y and asks for the name of the assassin so that his murder may be avenged. But Alexandre has f a l l e n into another f a i n t , and the soldiers quietly leave. Alexandre awakes with a start, cries out i n pain, and fee l s shame that a hero such as he should be reduced to dying i n bed l i k e an ordinary man. When the queen enters, Alexandre asks to be l e f t alone with her ( V , l ) . Roxane expresses her determination to follow her husband i n death, but Alexandre t e l l s her she must l i v e f o r the sake of th e i r unborn son, i n whom the l o y a l t y of the Macedonians w i l l be placed. He leaves her i n the protection of Perdice, whom he makes his regent. He asks his friends to maintain peace among themselves, and dies. Perdice and Antigone utter the formal lament over the body, and Perdice closes the play by c a l l i n g a council meeting to f u l f i l l Alexandre's dying wish that they remain united (V,2). La Mort de Daire Daire prays to Apollo to save the Persian empire and, i n dialogue with Artabase and Bubace, reveals the situation i n which he finds himself. His army defeated, his wife dead and his mother and daughter captives of Alexandre, he can see no hope for the future. He i s urged to continue the struggle and, assured by Bubace of Alexandre's n o b i l i t y of character, he prays either that he may regain for Persia i t s l o s t glory, or that the throne may pass to his adversary, this paragon of virtue (1,1). Alexandre asks the advice of his captains on the 204 conduct o f h i s campaign. Some ar e i n f a v o u r of s w i f t p u r s u i t and complete d e s t r u c t i o n o f the P e r s i a n army, o t h e r s o f more c a u t i o u s measures; some a d v i s e a d i r e c t f r o n t a l a s s a u l t , o t h e r s a s u r p r i s e n i g h t a t t a c k . A l e x a n d r e opts f o r the s w i f t , d i r e c t a t t a c k as b e i n g the more g l o r i o u s course o f a c t i o n . Menide e n t e r s t o announce t h a t the P e r s i a n army seems t o be p r e p a r i n g f o r combat, and A l e x a n d r e g i v e s o r d e r s t h a t e v e r y t h i n g be made ready f o r b a t t l e the f o l l o w i n g day ( 1 , 2 ) . D a i r e addresses h i s s o l d i e r s . P r e v i o u s l y they had f o u g h t f o r g l o r y , now they must f i g h t f o r freedom. He r e v i e w s the p r e v i o u s b a t t l e s o f the campaign, but i s c e r t a i n t h a t the Macedonian army i s now d i s -o r g a n i s e d . Masee a s s u r e s D a i r e o f the l o y a l t y o f h i s army, and the k i n g o f f e r s a f i n a l p r a y e r f o r v i c t o r y ( 1 1 , 1 ) . I n the Greek camp, Parmenion comes t o A l e x a n d r e ' s t e n t and r e p r o a c h e s the k i n g f o r s l e e p i n g when h i s army i s ranged ready f o r b a t t l e . A l e x a n d r e r e p l i e s t h a t he has s l e p t s o u n d l y because h i s main con c e r n was t h a t D a i r e might escape; now he can be sure o f d e f e a t i n g him. He r e t i r e s t o h i s t e n t t o arm h i m s e l f . The Ohoeur d ' A r g y r a s p i d e s e x p r e s s e s i t s eagerness f o r the b a t t l e and p r a i s e s A l e x a n d r e ' s l e a d e r s h i p ( 1 1 , 2 ) . A l e x a n d r e reappears t o g i v e h i s o r d e r s t o h i s g e n e r a l s and t o draw up the b a t t l e l i n e s . As Parmenion i s c o n d u c t i n g him t o r e v i e w h i s t r o o p s , a Greek d e s e r t e r from D a i r e ' s army runs up t o warn A l e x a n d r e o f a t r a p t h a t has been l a i d by the P e r s i a n s . A l e x a n d r e harangues h i s t r o o p s , t e l l i n g them t h a t t h i s i s the l a s t d e s p a i r i n g e f f o r t of t h e P e r s i a n army and e x p l a i n i n g h i s t a c t i c s . The h i g h p r i e s t a. 205 announces that the s a c r i f i c e s have been propitious (11,3)• The Persians have been defeated and are i n f l i g h t . Besse and Nabarzane discuss the sit u a t i o n : they must think of some way of gaining Alexandre's favour. Nabarzane suggests going over to Alexandre's side with t h e i r troops, but Besse says that the delivery of Daire into the Macedonian's hands would make him even more indebted. Nabarzane cannot agree to such treachery, but they f i n a l l y come to a compromise whereby Nabarzane would suggest to Daire that he abdicate i n favour of Besse. Daire and his council enter (111,1). Daire i s incl i n e d to r i s k one more battle with Alexandre, and Artabase seconds t h i s courageous gamble fo r vi c t o r y . Nabarzane then speaks up: why t r y another encounter which w i l l only cost more l i v e s ? Daire should rel i n q u i s h his authority for a period, handing over the leader-ship to someone else u n t i l peace i s re-established, when he can resume his reign. Daire, furious, threatens Nabarzane with death for such a sacrilegious attack on his legitimate kingship. Besse h a s t i l y intervenes: Nabarzane has been indiscrete but well-intentioned, and he leads his fellow conspirator away. Daire deplored his l o t to be surrounded by t r a i t o r s , but Artabase advises the king to overlook the offence, since i n their present position they need the support of such a powerful man. Daire agrees to follow, f o r the moment, this counsel (111,2). Alexandre explains to his captains the necessity for capturing Daire as the f i n a l measure i n securing control of Persia (111,3). 206 Patron, a Greek l o y a l to Daire, soliloquizes on the king's pli g h t , threatened as he i s hy t r a i t o r s . When Daire enters, Patron warns him of the plot of Besse and Fabarzane to deliver the king, a l i v e or dead, into Alexandre's hands and offers him sanctuary among the Greek mercenaries. But Daire cannot accept th i s offer, because a l l his followers, including the innocent, would regard themselves as equally under suspicion. He would rather be constantly deceived than condemn too h a s t i l y and prefers death to the hatred of his subjects. Left alone, Patron remarks that the king i s going v o l u n t a r i l y and consciously to his death, but decides to prevent i t i f possible. Besse suspects that Patron has informed Daire of the plan and resolves to deceive the king by admitting a l l and feigning repentance. In soliloquy, Artabase expresses his wish to save a monarch who seems to have l o s t a l l w i l l to save himself. Hard-pressed by Alexandre, Daire has yet more to fear from his d i s l o y a l subjects, and Artabase determines to try to reconcile Besse, Fabarzane and the king. The conspirators enter, expressing their penitence and t h e i r desire to seek Daire's forgiveness. Daire enters, and Besse pleads with him on Fabarzane's behalf. Daire pardons him, and the two t r a i t o r s e f f u s i v e l y swear their l o y a l t y . As proof of their s i n c e r i t y , Besse proposes to put a guard of his own men around Daire's tent, and he and Fabarzane leave (IV,1). Daire has not been deceived and condemns the treacherous d i s -simulation of Besse and Nabarzane. He cannot decide what to do i n t h i s s i t u a tion. He can neither accept Patron's offer, nor 207 commit suicide, for t h i s would be to desert those subjects s t i l l l o y a l to him. As he r e t i r e s into his tent, Artabase regrets that Daire had not sought refuge with Patron (lv",2). As Alexandre consults with his captains on the continuing pursuit of the Persians, a deserter from the Persian camp i s brought i n to report the v i r t u a l imprisonment of Daire by Besse and Nabarzane. Alexandre r e a l i s e s that he must pursue the foe s t i l l more closely i f he i s to capture Daire a l i v e (IV,3). In the Persian camp, Daire laments the desperate and lonely position he i s i n . Besse, Nabarzane and their soldiers enter and bind the king; he i s to be used as a hostage i n their bargaining with Alexandre (IV,4). A further battle has taken place and P o l i s t r a t e , a Macedonian soldier, expresses wonder at the ease with which the Persians were routed. As he i s scooping water with his helmet from a stream to slake his t h i r s t , he hears groans from behind a h i l l o c k , and discovers Daire, bound and riddled with arrows, who has been thrown from his chariot by the stampeding horses. He explains that Besse and Nabarzane, ever more hard-pressed by Alexandre and needing Daire's prestige and active support, had offered to release him and to share authority with him. Daire had rejected this proposition, and promised, once released, to put the usurpers to death. They had then wounded him and driven his chariot off into the desert. He asks P o l i s t r a t e to make Alexandre swear to punish the t r a i t o r s on his behalf, drinks from the soldier's helmet and dies. P o l i s t r a t e leaves to t e l l Alexandre the news ( V , l ) . 208 Alexandre i s explaining why the capture of Daire i s so important to the establishment of his legitimate rule over Persia, when Pol i s t r a t e enters to announce Daire's death. He gives an account of the circumstances and of the Persian king's dying words as they approach the spot where the corpse i s l y i n g . Alexandre decries the indignity of Daire's death and vows to avenge i t . He arranges for the body to be carried to Daire's mother for f i n a l funerary honours (V,2). In the l a s t scene of the play, Sisigambe reviews Daire's virtues, laments over the corpse and c a l l s upon death to allow her soon to follow her son (V,3). Pan th£ e The entree en matiere i s swift. Cirus, i n giving thanks to the gods for his vi c t o r y over the Lydians, feels that he has been favoured as a strong and good king opposed to a s e l f -indulgent tyrant. He must secure his conquest by gaining the l o y a l t y of the conquered people, and means to set an example by showing mercy to his noble captive, Panthee. His prisoner's h o s t i l i t y and fears are rapidly overcome as Cirus places her under the protection of his lieutenant Araspe, and Panthee closes the act by singing the praises of the king and his justice (1,1). In a long soliloquy, Araspe expresses his passion for his captive. He decides to declare his love, although he i s aware that he w i l l incur Cirus' wrath. Panthee enters, and Araspe speaks at f i r s t guardedly, and then more openly, of his 209 love for her. When Panthee indignantly rejects his pleas, he warns her that Cirus w i l l regard with disfavour this r e f u s a l of his closest adviser, hut Panthee braves his threat (11,1). The nourrice urges her to complain to Cirus, but Panthee f e e l s that the king i s too busy to attend to petitions from individuals, and that an accusation l e v e l l e d against his favourite would f a l l on deaf ears. However, she agrees to l e t the nourrice plead with the king on her behalf (11,2). Cirus enters with the nourrice. who has just told him of Araspe's conduct. At f i r s t Cirus i s determined to punish Araspe severely so that his exemplary treatment w i l l serve as a warning to other malefactors; but when Araspe i s brought before him, the king contents himself with a sharp reprimand and, to prove to Panthee that th i s i s not merely cynicism and to assure her of his good f a i t h , he sets her free without ransom and reunites her with her husband. Panthee, overcome with gratitude, promises to persuade Abradate to j o i n Cirus' cause (111,1). The scene changes to Abradate's camp, where Abradate fears that his wife has been un f a i t h f u l to him. Panthee enters to reassure him, to sing Cirus$ praises and to urge her husband to enter the king's service. In spite of Abradate's objections, she f i n a l l y succeeds i n her purpose (111,2). Back i n Cirus' camp, Panthee describes the portents and presages she has had of Abradate's death, while the nourrice offers consolation and counter-arguments ( I V , l ) . The messenger enters to report to Cirus the death of Abradate, and the king utters a short lament and panegyric on the warrior 210 (LT,2). Panthee soliloquizes on Abradate*s death and resolves not long to survive him. The nourrice suggests that she stay away from the funeral, since i t w i l l cause her too much g r i e f , but Panthee r e p l i e s that such behaviour would be a betrayal of Abradate*s honour. The funeral cortege enters ( V , l ) . Cirus expresses the general regret and his personal g r i e f at Abradate's death, and assures Panthee of his continued protection. Panthee utters the lament over the corpse and k i l l s herself. Cirus closes the play with the f i n a l panegyric on Panthee's chastity, love and constancy (V,2). Timoclee Alexandre discusses the revolt of Thebes and Athens with his advisers. He wishes to promote the greatness of Greece by destroying the Persian empire, but thi s enterprise i s delayed by the unrest i n Greece. His captains are divided i n the i r opinions, some advising swift repression of the revolt, others a more moderate approach to gain the l o y a l t y of the Greeks and t h e i r acceptance of Alexandre's leadership. The arguments are debated at some length, and Alexandre f i n a l l y decides to do nothing p r e c i p i t a t e l y ; but when the Athenian ambassadors arrogantly refuse his terms, he angrily threatens to destroy Athens as well as Thebes (1,1). In Athens, Demosthene and Phocion debate the s i t u a t i o n . Demosthene argues i n favour of war with Alexandre i n support of the i r a l l y Thebes, Phocion f o r the more f l e x i b l e policy of waiting u n t i l Alexandre's power i s weakened and the i r revolt can be more ef f e c t i v e . This lengthy but indecisive 211 argument i s interrupted by the return of the ambassadors who announce Alexandre's peace conditions. The Choeur d'Atheniens turns to Phocion f o r advice, and he decides that Athens should remain neutral; i t i s better for Greece i f only one c i t y i s destroyed rather than two (11,1). In Thebes, the ghost of Theagene appears to Timocle'e as she sleeps, prophesying the sack of Thebes, Timoclde's rape and the murder of her assailant. Timoclee awakes to lament the death of her brother Theagene and to engage i n a discussion with the nourrice on the efficacy of dreams and the threat to the c i t y (111,1). Phoenix and Pro-thyre whip up the enthusiasm of the Choeur de Thebains to r e s i s t Alexandre (111,2). When the herald enters to present Alexandre's peace terms and to declare that the king i s bent on moderation, the Choeur de Thebains dismisses him with insolent counter-demands. They disperse to make preparations for Alexandre's assault (111,3). Alexandre decides that he can be moderate no longer. As the Thebans w i l l not see reason, the c i t y must be destroyed. This time he has the unanimous support of his captains, and they make preparations for the f i n a l assault. Nevertheless, as Alexandre leaves to address his troops, he s t i l l expresses s l i g h t hesitation; repentance by the Thebans could s t i l l save them (IV,1). In another part of the camp, the Choeur de Soldats macedoniens rejoices that at l a s t the day has dawned that w i l l see the destruction of Thebes. Alexandre enters to harangue his troops; he t e l l s them that no mercy i s to be shown the ci t i z e n s and dismisses them to take up the i r positions 212 (IV,2). Phoenix harangues the defenders, reminding them that they are f i g h t i n g not only for Thehes but for the whole of Greece (IV,3)- In the Cadm£e the Capitaine urges his soldiers to s a l l y out, and the Macedonians, urged on by the prospect of booty, drive the Thebans before them (IV,4). The Thebans f a l l back i n disorder, c a l l i n g on Dionysus to defend them. In vain; the Macedonians are setting f i r e to the c i t y , and Antipatre exults over th e i r victory and exhorts his troops to plunder the c i t y and slaughter the c i t i z e n s (IV,5). Timoclee i s dragged on stage by Hypparque. She begs him to take her l i f e rather than stai n her honour, pleads the n o b i l i t y of her family and offers him a l l her wealth. It i s to no a v a i l , and Hypparque takes Timoclee out to rape her off-stage (IV,6). The Choeur d'Atheniens laments the f a l l of Thebes and prays that t h i s not be a prelude to the destruction of Athens (IV,7). Timoclee and her nourrice enter. The heroine cannot be consoled for the loss of her v i r g i n i t y and claims that the only reason for her continuing to l i v e i s to have her revenge. The nourrice t r i e s i n vain to dissuade her mistress from t h i s dangerous course of action; Timoclee dismisses her, revealing c r y p t i c a l l y that Hypparque w i l l f i n d a "watery grave" ( V , l ) . When Hypparque enters, he i s g r a t i f i e d to f i n d that Timoclee's reception i s less h o s t i l e than he had expected. She explains that she has become reconciled to her fate and that, provided he legi t i m i s e t h e i r relationship, she w i l l give him the treasure she has hidden i n a well. As they leave, the nourrice says i n soliloquy 213 that she cannot b e l i e v e that Timoclee's a t t i t u d e has changed; she must be preparing Hypparque's death. (V , 2 ) . Hypparque has descended i n t o the w e l l and c r i e s out f o r help as Timoclee throws stones down on him. As he d i e s , Timoclee e x u l t s . The n o u r r i c e urges her mistress to f l e e , but Timoclee t h i n k s only of death now that she has had her revenge (V,3). Alexandre f e e l s remorse f o r the d e s t r u c t i o n of Thebes and begs Dionysus to pardon him. His advisers assure him he had no a l t e r n a t i v e but to raze the c i t y and urge him to continue w i t h the destruc-t i o n of Athens, but Alexandre d e c l i n e s , saying he does not wish to be f u r t h e r d i s t r a c t e d from h i s major p r o j e c t , the conquest of A s i a . At t h i s moment, Timoclee i s brought before him, accused by the Troupe de Soldats of the murder of Hypparque. Timocle'e reveals the circumstances of her v i o l e n t a c t i o n and the n o b i l i t y of her f a m i l y . Alexandre pardons her, p r a i s e s her magnanimous deed and orders that her plundered wealth be re s t o r e d . He asks Timoclee to bear witness to h i s m e r c i f u l treatment, which i s a d i r e c t r e s u l t of the remorse he f e e l s f o r the sack of Thebes. The play ends as Alexandre c a l l s h i s captains i n t o c o u n c i l to discuss preparations f o r the i n v a s i o n of A s i a (V , 4 ) . 

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