Le Cid

At the beginning of the final act, Chimène finds herself again in cruel dilemma. She has arranged that Sancho will duel with Rodrigo on her behalf and that she will marry the winner, yet neither result will give her happiness or satisfaction. If Rodrigo wins, she will marry the man she loves but her honor will be destroyed; if Sancho wins, her honor will be secure but her beloved will be dead and she will have to marry a man she does not love. Once again, love and honor are at war in her soul.

We see the complexity of Chimène’s desires in Scene 1. Chimène urges Rodrigo to defend himself against Sancho so she will not have to marry “the object of my aversion” (42). She even urges Rodrigo not to tarnish his own honor by deliberately losing the fight, and implies that by winning he will show his love for her: “Thine honor is dearer to thee than I am dear, since it […] causes thee to renounce, in spite of thy love, the sweet hope of gaining me” (41). Whoever wins, Chimène wants it to be an honest fight; she does not want Rodrigo to simply give up. Chimène chides Rodrigo for showing little consideration for her, because first he killed her father, then when given the chance to win her back he would rather lose: “Art thou valiant only to do me an injury? Unless it be to offend me, hast thou no courage at all?” (41). Chimène even implies that winning the fight will honor the memory of her father: “After having conquered him, thou wilt endure a conqueror?” (41).

Rodrigo argues that he should die in the duel so that Chimène will be properly avenged: “I have not the arm […] to preserve that which does not please you” (40). He believes that life will not be worth living if he no longer merits Chimène’s love. In dying he may redress his crime and make himself worthy of her. In this scene, Chimène and Rodrigo show by their sentiments that they are becoming less selfish and growing more worthy of each other’s respect and love. Through them, Corneille also uses the ambivalent presentation of honor throughout the play to show that there is no objectively honorable path, even between two characters who share similar values. Rodrigo feels dying on purpose is the right course and strongly as Chimène feels that the only option is for him to legitimately fight.

Chimène undergoes the second test of her love for Rodrigo—this one unplanned— when Sancho enters with the bloody sword after the duel. Before Rodrigo can explain what happened, Chimène jumps to the conclusion that Rodrigo has died and bursts out with grief and anger: “Traitor! dost thou dare to show thyself before mine eyes, after having taken from me that whom I love the best” (45). This outburst shows the extent of Chimène’s pent-up love for Rodrigo. A moment later, Chimène learns the truth: Rodrigo has shown the ultimate honor—not by killing Sancho, but by disarming him and then letting him live. Rodrigo is showing the mercy that he should have shown with the Count, thus redressing his crime and becoming worthy of Chimène’s love again.

While Le Cid has serious themes and a tragic tone, the ending is happy and similar to a classical romantic comedy, which typically ends in a wedding. That Chimène and Rodrigo do not get married right away makes the final mood of the play more sober and less celebratory, however. We sense that Rodrigo still must overcome more obstacles and prove himself more before he and Chimène can be wed. In this way, Corneille subverts even the classical expectations of tragic plotting, creating a revolutionary new ending for the tragic dramatic form.

The final line, spoken by the King, neatly summarizes the conflict at the heart of the entire play. Sending Rodrigo off on his new mission, the King says that Rodrigo must overcome “a scrupulous feeling of honor” (48). This feeling has been the chief obstacle of all the characters throughout the play, as they struggle to reconcile their senses of duty with their desire to be true to their hearts and selves. In the closing line, the King implies that there is a compromise to be found between honor and desire, which is not too dissimilar from Corneille’s own creative approach to traditional dramatic forms.