The King's Two Bodies
Kristen Todd
When one hears the cry, “The king is dead! God save the king!” one might believe that the “king” referred to is the mortal man. One might believe that the “king” in the first sentence is the old king, and the second king is the new. But in fact this cry is not simply a collective prayer for a deceased king or a heralding of the new; rather, it is a reference to a political theory dating back to the medieval and early modern periods. Ernst Kantorowicz characterizes this theory as a political duality that English law attributes to kingship (Ernst Kantorowicz 8-9). This duality consists of the king as both a physical man who lives and dies and to an immortal political power that unites a nation. To understand the political motivations within the Henriad, one must also understand the nature of monarchal power.
Through the Renaissance, people believed God gave the king the right to rule. This belief stemmed from primogeniture, an inheritance system in which the eldest male heir inherited his father’s titles, lands, and wealth (Cooley 334). Primogeniture made divine right rational. If God wanted a man to rule, he made that man the firstborn. Similarly, if God wanted a second son to rule instead, then he would remove the eldest son via sickness, or some fatal accident. This system sometimes caused conflict among the king’s subjects, however. Under a tyrannical king, a usurper committed not only treason, but a sin for unseating God’s chosen servant. However, if a usurper managed to reign, was it possible that could God also have chosen him? If this were the case, the usurpation was no longer tyranny, but a manifestation of divine will. In an absolute monarchy, the line between sinner and savior was thus thin and unclear. This religious and political ambiguity haunts Kings Henry IV and Henry V throughout Shakespeare’s plays.
Since the question of rightful kingship had such extensive social and political repercussions, Medieval and Renaissance judiciaries thoroughly contemplated the king’s divinity. How, they wondered, did divine right make a ruler? They philosophized that the king had two bodies: one “politic” and one “natural” (Kantorowicz 7-9). The body politic was immortal, and governed the land in all things – this was the divine aspect. This body’s word was indisputable law; this body was assumed to be in every courtroom (5); and this body led England and English society. But this immortal body required physical form to act. This second body, the Body natural, was the physical man (9). This Body was could sicken, die, and make mistakes. It could be deposed. This body’s fragility haunts each king throughout the Henriad: from Richard’s deposition to the Henry IV’s insecurities and infirmities to Henry V’s doubt.
The Body politic was also considered the “mystic body” (Kantorowicz 15-16) because it represented the relationship of the king and his subjects. This relationship dictated a mutual responsibility of the subjects to the king and the king to his subjects (15-16): the king, in being respected and obeyed, implicitly agreed to serve the nation’s best interests. The subjects, in being served, agreed to obey and respect the king. This relationship was the foundation of English society.
Through the Renaissance, people believed God gave the king the right to rule. This belief stemmed from primogeniture, an inheritance system in which the eldest male heir inherited his father’s titles, lands, and wealth (Cooley 334). Primogeniture made divine right rational. If God wanted a man to rule, he made that man the firstborn. Similarly, if God wanted a second son to rule instead, then he would remove the eldest son via sickness, or some fatal accident. This system sometimes caused conflict among the king’s subjects, however. Under a tyrannical king, a usurper committed not only treason, but a sin for unseating God’s chosen servant. However, if a usurper managed to reign, was it possible that could God also have chosen him? If this were the case, the usurpation was no longer tyranny, but a manifestation of divine will. In an absolute monarchy, the line between sinner and savior was thus thin and unclear. This religious and political ambiguity haunts Kings Henry IV and Henry V throughout Shakespeare’s plays.
Since the question of rightful kingship had such extensive social and political repercussions, Medieval and Renaissance judiciaries thoroughly contemplated the king’s divinity. How, they wondered, did divine right make a ruler? They philosophized that the king had two bodies: one “politic” and one “natural” (Kantorowicz 7-9). The body politic was immortal, and governed the land in all things – this was the divine aspect. This body’s word was indisputable law; this body was assumed to be in every courtroom (5); and this body led England and English society. But this immortal body required physical form to act. This second body, the Body natural, was the physical man (9). This Body was could sicken, die, and make mistakes. It could be deposed. This body’s fragility haunts each king throughout the Henriad: from Richard’s deposition to the Henry IV’s insecurities and infirmities to Henry V’s doubt.
The Body politic was also considered the “mystic body” (Kantorowicz 15-16) because it represented the relationship of the king and his subjects. This relationship dictated a mutual responsibility of the subjects to the king and the king to his subjects (15-16): the king, in being respected and obeyed, implicitly agreed to serve the nation’s best interests. The subjects, in being served, agreed to obey and respect the king. This relationship was the foundation of English society.