LA MORT DE MITRIDATE - University of Liverpool

La Mort de Mitridate
sanglante guerre’ (IV.3.1169). War is thus far more terrible than glorious in the
play. 106
For forty years Mitridate has been ‘l’appuy d’Asie, & la terreur de Rome’
(III.1.642), and, as the Romans finally incorporate Mitridate’s kingdom into their
empire under his son Pharnace, we witness the last day in the life of the King of
Pontus. In La Mort de Mitridate it is Rome which represents the instrument of
fortune, a presence to contradict all thoughts of kings as all-sacred, all-powerful
beings. No longer the stuff of choruses, Fortune the leveller still finds itself
denounced or brazened out (III.1.646-54). La Calprenède paints an unflattering
picture of an empire on the rise. If the takeover cannot be by fair means, then it
will be by foul. Unable to win a decisive victory over Mitridate, Rome has found
a chink in his armour, a weak link in the shape of his son Pharnace, an ideal
candidate as the legitimate heir to the throne, and who, by a combination of
threats and promises, is manœuvred into betraying his father. Divide and rule is
Rome’s tactic. Son thus opposes father, the one in the Roman camp surrounding
the walls of Sinope, the other inside his last stronghold. What Pharnace wants can
only be obtained at the expense of his father’s life. ‘Il veut porter un Sceptre en
me privant de vie’ (I.2.157), says Mitridate, who has no illusions as to what is
happening. In a vain attempt to open Pharnace’s eyes to the reality of his position,
Mitridate tries to convince him that Rome cannot be trusted, that her promises are
‘de faux esclats qui te doivent tromper’ (IV.3.1140), that she will use traitors for
her purpose, but only for as long as it suits her: ‘Rome pour son profit aime la
trahison, / Mais elle hait le traistre avec trop de raison’ (ll. 1127-28), and he
predicts: ‘Et tu seras payé du salaire attendu, / Lorsqu’elle te perdra, comme tu
m’as perdu’ (ll. 1131-32). But Mitridate’s opposition to Pharnace is not just that
of father versus rebellious son. The clash of Mitridate and Rome represents the
clash of two worlds, of an old order versus a new one. For Souiller, the baroque
father has the ‘fonction d’incarnation de l’ordre traditionnel: le Père, gardien des
valeurs, est celui qui interdit’ (p. 88) while for the son ‘la fonction du révolté […]
est d’incarner toutes les audaces rendues possibles par l’écroulement de l’ancien
système de valeurs’ (p. 66).
Pontus is poised between its Mithradatic past and its Roman future. We are told
that the time is ripe for a new order, that it is ridiculous to fight something thus
sanctioned, as Émile points out: ‘Il faut considerer le temps & la raison, / Le
temps veut que l’on cede au vainqueur qui dispose…’ (II.4.492-93), a thought
which the desperate Pharnace later clings to: ‘Et le temps nous apprend de ceder
au vainqueur’ (III.3.868). Through its juxtaposition of past and present, La Mort
106 La Calprenède does not skirt around military realities, his personal experiences as a
soldier serving to inform his references to war. The risks run by civilian populations
during wartime are mentioned, for example, albeit within the terms of the
bienséances: the fall of Sinope leaves ‘la ville à la mercy du soldat insolent’
(III.1.631), for at such a time it is difficult to restrain ‘la fureur des soldats’ (III.2.766).
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