Hypocritcal Puritans in Bartholomew Fair

Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair is an extensive work that deals very much with religion and the desires of humanity at the fair. It encompasses the food, the goods, and the types of people that find themselves at the grounds. In Jonson's world, the Puritans find sin everywhere; then they seem to find a way to indulge in sin that they can credit as not being sinful or nearly as sinful. Such is the case of Zeal-of-the-land-busy, who leads his little flock of Puritans through Bartholomew Fair enjoying and mocking constantly its contents, finally in the last act when confronted with a piece of theater, a simplifed version of what they are in themselves, Zeal-of-the-land-busy proves that he is not only a hypocrite when it comes to theater but something much less enlightened.

Women’s Struggle to Attain Power in Early Modern Drama

            All throughout history, women have struggled to maintain power and authority over the men around them and the situations they are in.  Their struggle is especially interesting in the early modern period, particularly in respect to the stage and performance.  The stage offered an interesting dynamic for women; a unique setting in which they may attain power, even if just for a moment.  However, the few plays of the period in which women were awarded power, such as “Knight of the Burning Pestle,” were almost always written by men, and often played by young boys—a  maneuver which is arguably means of undermining female authority and power.  The merchant’s wife in “Knight of the Burning Pestle” is one such character who is able to acquire a sort of power over the characters and situations surrounding her.  While female characters (and therefore, women) in early modern drama were able to attain power, this power was still removable because of the many ways in which it was easily undermined. 

Representation By Association

In Jacobean tragedies such as The Duchess of Malfi, the audience is presented with the character of the Duchess whose characteristics as a female in this type of tragedy differ greatly that that of women found in other genres, such as gothic novels. It is vey interesting to see the many comparisons that can be made with the two genres. Both gothic novels and Jacobean tragedies possess factors such as a love story, incest (if not carried out then implied, a scheming female character, and a faulty religious character. The main question that arises is why in two genres that are so closely related, the central female characters differ so greatly. In the noel entitled The Italian by Ann Radcliffe, the reader is presented with the character of Ellena, a fair Italian young lady with all of the desirable attributes of an English woman. The Duchess and Ellena are portrayed in two totally different lights. It is imperative to view how the two women react in their somewhat similar situations in order to understand why there is such a difference in character of the two women. Both are involved in a shceme brought on by love, but how they react to the situations define their characters. Although the genres have a small time gap between the two, it is important to note why women are represented so differently in a gothic novel as opposed to a Jacobean tragedy.

The Victory of Laughter and the Fair: Ben Johnson and Bakhtin

Carnival time has not vanished since the times of the Middle Ages. Remnants of the tradition may still be found frequently in certain parts of contemporary society. March Madness, the NCAA basketball championship tournament, for example, has many carnivalesque aspects. Little 500, a college party that lasts a whole week, is reminiscent of the fairs and feasts of the Middle Ages. During the week of Little 500 it is not uncommon to see people at the carnival dressed outrageously as clowns or fools, or to see people urinating on the side of a house, eating and drinking together. The same question can be asked for both the practice of the Carnival and the continued existence Little 500 at a place like a university, What is the benefit or the reason? The reason is that carnival culture is based upon more than mere merriment, but stems from deep philosophical origans and human condition. “The feast (every feast) is an important primary form of human culture. It cannot be explained merely by the practical conditions of the community’s work, and it would be even more superficial to attribute it to the phsysiological demand for periodic rest. The fest had always an essential, meaningful philosophical content…They [festivals] must be sanctioned not by the world of practical conditions but by the highest aims of human existence, that is, by the world of ideals” (Bakhtin, 198). Just what is so special about festivals, that is, what the value of the carnival exactly is, is what I will explain in the body of this essay. Furthermore, Ben Johnson’s Bartholomew Fair will be used as a lens with which to examine how a festival functions as a medium for social commentary and revolution. By studying the play we will see the carnival culture in action.

Discovering Discovery Spaces: What’s Really Behind the Arras

The Wizard of Oz had a little curtain. Cyrano de Bergerac's was made of pen and paper. Where does this tradition of hiding oneself on stage come from? To uncover this, researchers must return to the beginnings of modern drama. Perhaps the most well-known usage today of the popular discovery space trope in drama of the English Renaissance is in Hamlet, when Polonius hides behind an arras to spy on Hamlet’s discussion with his mother Gertrude. What is frequently overlooked is just how frequently this plot device was really used in early modern English drama. In The Duchess of Malfi, A Woman Killed With Kindness, and even Bartholomew Fair, the discovery space is used to great effect, as it is in Hamlet and Othello. By examining how and under what circumstances the discovery space was used, it will be possible to understand why this device was so common, where it comes from and how the idea of the discovery space lives on in theater today.

Why all women secretly want a Y chromosome...

The mystification of women has resulted in an unspoken taboo pertaining to women’s secrets, both physical and mental. This mystification has also resulted in the obsessive scrutiny and fear of female thinking and knowledge. In John Lyly’s Galatea and Francis Beumont’s Knight of the Burning Pestle, women are shown as out of control of their own imagination, wreaking havoc onstage until they are once again controlled by male authority. The required intervention of men in the plays implies that the thoughts of women are ultimately dangerous when given free reign. What makes them so dangerous, according to the two plays, is the desire for women to have male authority, in essence, the desire to be a man.

The Body and Beyond: The Corporeal and the Supernatural in The Duchess of Malfi

John Webster’s tragedy The Duchess of Malfi is no doubt a play that is concerned with the corporeal and matters of the flesh.  This is reflected not only in the language, but also more overtly in the play’s imagery.  The beginning of the play is filled with images of conjoining hands and conjoining bodies; but as the play progresses, spiraling downward to death and madness, conjoined hands become severed hands and conjoined bodies become dismembered ones (recall the disinterred leg Ferdinand carries on in Act V).  These occurrences of dismemberment and disembodiment are linked hand in hand with supernatural phenomena and the discourse of the supernatural.  Ferdinand’s sudden propensity for digging up limbs from graveyards is attributed to a case of lycanthropy, a condition in which one takes on the form and characteristics of a wolf, often held as a sign of witchcraft or demonic possession.  When Ferdinand reveals the hand he has offered to the Duchess is not his own, but rather a hand severed from the presumably dead Antonio, the Duchess exclaims, “What witchcraft doth he practise that he hath left a dead man’s hand here?” (IV.1.54-55).  It seems that these disturbing matters of the flesh ultimately become an invitation for the supernatural, that these problematic issues of the body must be explained by matters beyond the body and beyond the flesh.

The Treachery of Images in The Duchess of Malfi

For thirty years people have been asking me how I reconcile X with Y! The truthful answer is that I don't. Everything about me is a contradiction and so is everything about everybody else. We are made out of oppositions; we live between two poles. There is a philistine and an aesthete in all of us, and a murderer and a saint. You don't reconcile the poles. You just recognize them. Orson Welles

Centuries before these words were uttered by Orson Welles, playwright John Webster seemed to understand this idea. Often cited as a ‘structurally defective’ and ‘frequently contradictory’ (Leech 66), Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi embodies this concept of a willful mass of contradictions. Few if any plays from the era create characters so vivid and real, yet so regularly remind the audience of the artificiality of this staged drama. Webster draws on clichés, other plays, and the culture at large to add more jarring elements to this strange mix of high naturalism and cutting metatheatics. With this, Webster concocts a play that alternatively blurs and contrasts the border between what is real and what is only representation or an image of something else. By confusing the theatrical and the natural on stage, Webster emphasizes a greater relationship between the real and the unreal, the imagined and the depicted, while also pointedly illustrating the power representation and images have to affect reality.

The Choice to Starve in "A Woman Killed with Kindness"

I forgot to include "A Woman Killed with Kindness" in the last post title of my blog listed below.

The Choice to Starve in

Adultery shatters the sacramental bond of marriage, and generally, results in separation of romantic partners. In contrast, however, Thomas Heywood reports in Gunaikeion or, Nine Books of Various History, “By Solons Lawes, a man was permitted to kill them both in the act, that he found them” (433). Heywood’s collection evaluates different types of women, such as goddesses, wantons, chaste and virtuous wives, incestuous women, and adulterous wives. His account on the treatment and punishment of these women was published in 1624, and nevertheless, contains some criteria that would not be tolerated by society and authorities in the twenty-first century. Several years before Gunaikeion or, Nine Books of Various History was published, Heywood’s “best play,” as agreed upon by critics, was performed and first published in 1607 (Bryan 9). Heywood utilizes the sinful act of adultery in his domestic tragedy A Woman Killed with Kindness, but instead of exercising the punishment he reports in Gunaikeion or, Nine Books of Various History, Anne Frankford is killed with kindness (Heywood 400). Frankford did not consult “ecclestical justice” about his wife’s adultery, as critic Jennifer Panek suggests a husband of the early seventeenth century would be inclined to do, but does, however, alienate Anne from his household (357). In retaliation to Frankford’s punishment, Anne chooses to starve herself. In this climatic moment of A Woman Killed with Kindness, critics have analyzed and made bold effort to explain Anne’s decision to self-starve, but it is Heywood who offers the most convincing evidence as to how audiences would have understood and perceived her choice.

Beyond a Nosebleed

A nosebleed.  It may seem like an occurrence of little significance, but in John Webster's Early Modern play, The Duchess of Malfi, this exit of bodily fluid onstage surprisingly provides insight into the way the body was perceived in performance at this time.  Antonio's nosebleed is presented as a bad omen and occurs just before all hell breaks loose for his family.  The idea of seeing a nosebleed as a manifestation of superstition is not surprising, when considering the fact that little was understood about this biological phenomenon in Early Modern England.  The body was seen far differently in Webster's time than it is in our own.  Given that biological knowledge was so limited when Duchess was first produced, the body took on a much more mysterious and perhaps even spiritual essence than it does today.  Observing a bodily omen such as a nosebleed onstage would have done more than simply provide foreshadowing, it would have provided an audience with insight into who a character was internally as well as how he fit into the grand scheme of the play's world.

Everyone Has a Disguise: Jonson's Journey to the Center of the Fair

Ben Jonson’s “Bartholomew Fair” is a play packed to the brim with lies, betrayal, and most of all, disguise. Nearly every character affects a false identity, either physical or metaphorical, in order to achieve their own personal goals; an undertaking that fails both catastrophically and (near) universally. Peter Hyland sees the failure of disguise as the moral heart of “Bartholomew Fair,” as “Folly and crime arise from a lack of self-knowledge, from rejection or loss of identity, usually manifested through play-acting or actual disguise” (127). While such an argument has weight, especially in respect to individual characterization, it neglects the broader implications that the disguises of “Bartholomew Fair’s” denizens have on the culture at large. For a play so wrapped up in the meaning and function of tangible cultural objects and sensory stimulus, it seems important to question what meanings the individual disguises themselves possess beyond simply the characters who adopt them. When viewed through this lens, aspects of disguise such as the enormous power afforded to mad men (whether genuine or ersatz), or ways in which the puppet show (Jonson’s own “disguise” for the actual early modern stage) ultimately seems undermine its own argument, point to a more nuanced and perhaps troubling view of “Bartholomew Fair’s” moral center: that there isn’t one. This is not to say that Jonson has abandoned morality or accepted the “enormities” of his characters; rather that, in attempting to show the contemporary Smithfield in a naturalistic light, he has seen through its disguise and found it neither moral nor immoral, but something much more chaotic in between. In the face of such amorality, Jonson finds only one recourse: to laugh.

Defining Death or Defined by It?

Throughout history mankind has embraced the idea that we define ourselves by the way in which we live our lives. The pursuit of wealth, power, discipline, and religion are only a few of areas which people use to mold their persona. Sixteenth century Britain provided prime examples of these pursuits, which are reflected in the plays produced during this period. Whatever the pursuit, each person’s individual definition was understood to end with a common punctuation: death. Whatever the person’s status or achievements, their mortality was unavoidable. Although these concepts were clearly evident, a different thought began to make itself apparent. Plays like The Duchess of Malfi and A Woman Killed in Kindness began to shed a new light on the subject of death. Instead of a permanent end, death began to be seen as a gateway to immortality. This new concept of immortality was not the same immortality strictly defined in the religious sense, but a fusion of this religious ideology and the Humanistic views beginning to make their impression on society. This immortality defines itself in the notion that one’s fate is decided by the way in which they die; suggesting it is death that provides an individual with an opportunity to achieve true life.

Princely Women: The Power of the Female Body

Feminine desire has been mocked, oppressed, and silenced in almost every literary genre and era. However, Early Modern Drama represented the power of the female body as a complicated dichotomy between what is imaginary and what is real. During the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, men had the power to completely realize their dreams and to live their lives freely; women, on the other hand, were subject to male dominance. From sermons to conduct books, women were told what they could and could not do, what made and did not make them womanly, and what was and was not acceptable behavior. Although women were bound by the confines of the patriarchal society, the theater gave voice to their desires, their autonomy, and their independence. As such, the question of to what extent did the plays mock as well as venerate feminine desire becomes a prominent component when analyzing the lives of women during the Early Modern period. Webster’s Duchess of Malfi uses the depiction of a tragic heroine to enhance this idea of mockery and veneration on stage. She contains autonomy and dependency, a voice and a silence, an authority and a submissiveness. Thus, the depiction of women in Early Modern Drama mocked the imaginative and lucrative desires of their female audiences while simultaneously promulgating and honoring them.

“The Changeling” is full of instances where characters happen to be at the right place at the right time.  However, I find Scene III, Act iii to be particularly interesting.  In the asylum, Isabella is looking at the different madmen.  When she is left alone with Antonio, he reveals himself to be faking his craziness, and he professes love to and kisses Isabella.  While she doesn’t seem entirely supportive of the actions, she doesn’t do much to fight him, either.  During this entire scenario, Lollio was watching from above.  He escorts Antonio away and when he returns, he is in a position of power over Isabella because of what he witnessed.  Even though this play is “consumed with changeability” there are still moments where location and timing are critical, and this moment is one of them.  Because of what Lollio saw, he is now in a position to take advantage of Isabella in nearly any way he sees fit (and, at that moment, does attempt to kiss her, and calls her a prostitute).  Isabella is married, and of course should not be fooling around with anyone (especially her husband’s patients)—which Lollio knows and will take full advantage of.

Fate vs Free Will

De Flores seems to make it clear in Act II scene 2 that he has once been much better off than he is now and his hard fate thrust him into servitude, also saying that yes, he looks ugly but others worse looking then him have better fates (pp 54-55).  Perhaps this implies randomness and irony of fate but perhaps Beatrice and other people in his life are the ones making the decisions that make his life horrible, because next he says "she turns her blessed eye upon me now,/and I'll endure all storms before I part with't" (l. 50-51).  Other people are the ones making De Flores's life hard and I don't think that he would say that it is fate that makes Beatrice not like him or else he would turn from her and not try to convince her or not try to pursue her.

I see these characters in a world supposedly ruled by a random wheel of fate but yet to me it seems impossible to believe that with some of the things humans do, that we would believe that it is solely up to fate that another person interacts with us in a certain way.  So in this way there is talk of free will and fate and examples of free will because that is the only thing that can be seen.  The fate business is pushed upon unpleasant situations where one would rather not put blame on someone else or one's self.  Perhaps De Flores fall from grace is his own, which would be typical of tragedy and perhaps Beatrice has it within her to make a change in his life without being induced by Lady Fate.

If you're gonna do it...don't do it in front of a church.

The inconstancy of Beatrice in the play points to an unavoidable bad end for the woman. Beatrice begins early in the play by questioning her own ‘eyes’ after she catches a glimpse of Alsemero outside of the church. She asks herself if her own eyes lied about her desire for Piracquo since they seem to be telling her the same about Alsemero. De Flores ‘entrance marks another comment about Beatrice’s eyes and their issues of perception, she views De Flores as a sort of Basilisk, but instead of turning her to stone, his looks turn her into a nasty and mean person. De Flores is referred to as a poison by Beatrice that, “Which to a thousand other tastes were wholesome.”, this too could be seen as foreshadowing since her nastiness is also observed in the shadow of the church. Alsemero himself alludes to his own undoing within the shadows of the church when he notes that “The temple’s vane to turn full in my face; I know ‘tis against me.” (1.1.19-20) I find it appropriate that Beatrice then leaves the church and spies Alsemero. Both Beatrice and Alsemero seem to commit their first acts of inconstancy right in the church yard, in essence inviting the wrath of god to judge them both.

A Pendulum of Fate

It is somewhat difficult to determine whether being in the right place at the right time is a result of one’s resolve or chance. There is much support to be found in the first three acts for both arguments causing me to believe it is a combination of both. In Act 1 De Flores states, “Here’s a favor come, with a mischief!  Now I know/ She had rather wear my pelt tanned in a pair/ Of dancing pumps than I should thrust my fingers/ Into her sockets here, I know she hates me,/ Yet cannot choose but love her./ No matter; if but to vex her, I’ll haunt her still./ Though I get nothing else, I have my will.”(1.1.233-239) This line seems to be a reflection of how the rest of the play seems to try and find a balance between happenstance and the actual drive of the characters in determining their fates. In this line, De Flores speaks concerning the occasion where he returns Beatrice’s glove and his feelings on the matter. There is some controversy on whether or not Beatrice drops her glove on accident or on purpose to lure De Flores into helping her. Here we see question of chance reiterated. If Beatrice had dropped the glove accidentally, De Flores resolve concerning his relationship with her would have been strengthened by a random occurrence. On the other hand, had she dropped the glove on purpose, his resolve would have been strengthened by her doing making his actions a result of her conscious effort. De Flores goes on to explain how he cannot help but love her, which gives the idea that we are slave to fate. He goes on to claim that he will have his will, coming back to the idea that the characters are in control of what happens. We see this pendulum swing back and forth between chance and character resolve throughout the entirety of the play. Perhaps we are meant to understand that while the characters seem to have their own choices, they are still part of a “master” plan (the plot of the play) that cannot be denied. 

Little too late...

One very intersting factor that comes up very early in the play s the idea of being at "the right place at the right time". For this scene in particular, the character's timing is off and unfortunately creates a problem for those involved. In Act I is where we see Alsemero confessing his love to Beatrice, which seems very hasty and forward. Alsemero says "But I am further, lady; YESTERDAY was mine eyes' employment, and hither now they brought my judgement, where are both agreed"(Act I.i).
When Beatrice replies, she says "Oh, there's one above me, sir."(speaking of her father and his right/duty to marry his daughter off to a well-suited man). In her aside she states "For five days past to be recalled! Sure, mine eyes were mistaken; This was the man was meant me. That he should come so near his time, and miss it!"(ll84-87). Beatrice is speaking of the fact that Alsemero was just five days too late of confessing his love. She has already promised to marry another, and is now faced with a complex because she believes that she has not only made the wrong decision, but Alsemero s the only one for her. The way she speaks about this horrible misfortune makes it obvious that her and Alsemero are destined to be together-and she will find a way to scheme out of the current marriage proposal. It is so interesting that Alsemero was so close to being able to have Beatrice without any sort of conflict-had he just come a few days sooner. However, this very scene sets the stage for the fulfillment of destiny which will take place through the fight to be together.

Fickle Fate

As has been covered, "The Changeling" is full of instances in which the main characters, believing themselves to be blessed by fate, are in fact undone by it. Beatrice's chance meeting with Alsemero, De Flores' glimpse of their loving conversation, the remarkable ease with which Antonio's plan progresses, all of these seemingly positive occurrences ultimately cause their undoing. The "right place, right time" phenomena is soundly disproven by the main cast of the changeling, the initial boon rendered poisonous over time. But, if chance spells the doom of the protagonists, it does it by aiding the supporting cast, often by exposing the crimes of the former. Take this instance, when Jasperino informs Alsemero of Beatrice and De Flores' relationship: "Twas Diaphanta's chance...to leave me in a back part of the house...She was no sooner gone but instantly I heard your bride's voice in the next room to me and, lending more attention, found De Flores' louder than she (IV.ii. 90-97)." Chance is explicitly invoked (specifically "Diaphanta's chance") as the cause of Jasperino's startling discovery. Another example comes in the form of Tomazo's exasperated decision to leave to chance his search for his brother's killer. "I must think all men villains, and the next I meet, whoe'er he be, the murderer of my most worthy brother," he says, only to immediately run into De Flores, the true murderer, which fills De Flores with overwhelming guilt (V.ii. 6-10).
The constant presence of chance within the play, and its mutable benefit for a host of characters, lends a new meaning to the title. In a play so caught up with notions of disguise and treason, could it be that luck is the ultimate changeling? Middleton shows chance to be a force that can appear to you as pure benefit, give you all you desire, and then stab you in the back. Sometimes literally.

Unholy Matrimony

"'Twas in the temple where I first beheld her,

and now again the same; what omen yet

follows of that?  None but imaginary.

Why should my hopes or fate be timorous?"  

As many have pointed out, the first four lines of The Changeling introduce us to the idea of omens, fate and time.  What strikes me about Alsemero's first four lines is that while he claims to put no stock in fate or omens, there still seems to be a hint of doubt.  He formulates questions, not declarations.  If his hopes and fate are not, in fact, timorous, then why is he wondering if they should be?  Though he justifies his union with Beatrice-Joanna with the fact that they met in a holy place, the temple, I wonder just how sure he is of their "holy" union.  As we discussed in class, the last thing one should be doing in church is flirting with potential conquests, especially conquests that are already claimed!  It seems to me that Alsemero is misreading "the signs", misreading his own assuredness: he thinks his union with Beatrice-Joanna shall succeed because they met in a holy place, yet he "forgets" that it was in an unholy manner.  Perhaps from the very onset, Beatrice-Joanna and Alsemero are not blessed, but doomed by God because of their sacrilegious conduct.  

No Changelings Here

If the first scene in a play is supposed to provide the audience with a roadmap of sorts filled with major themes, then the opening of The Changeling definitely introduces the idea of fate and happenstance. From the very first lines Alsemero describes his apparently accidental first sighting of Beatrice-Joanna:

"'Twas in the temple where I first beheld her,
And now again the same; what omen yet
Follows of that? None but imaginary...
The church hath first begun our interview,
And that's the place must join us into one,"
(I.1.1-3, 10-11)

Judging by his words, he doesn't seem to believe that any omen marks his sighting as being particularly significant, and yet he grants a great amount of importance to the place of their meeting. This is a direct contradiction: how can he claim that he sees no omen in his first seeing Beatrice-Joanna and yet place such a degree of symbolism on an accidental rendezvous? Furthermore, the fact that he saw Beatrice-Joanna and not Diaphanta, and that it was Alsemero and not Jasperino who saw her, seem both entirely unplanned and absolutely necessary. Jasperino is focused on leaving Alicante, but who's to say that if their positions were reversed Alsemero wouldn't have been just as eager to leave? The crucial difference between the two lies in the fact that Alsemero's father had an unknown connection with Beatrice-Joanna's father. Who could have predicted this - and yet, if there were no such connection, it seems very unlikely that Vermandero would have invited a strange man to stay in his home with his engaged daughter in residence. In a very real way, Alsemero had to be the man who falls in love - the one could not be exchanged for the other. Similarly, if Alsemero fell in love at first sight with the eligible Diaphanta, instead of the betrothed Beatrice-Joanna, there would have been no plot because there would have been no inconvenient fiance to eliminate. These characters act as they do, appear where they do because if they didn't, there would be no play, no drama. Whether the hand of fate or of the playwrites, the characters in The Changeling are who they must be. In the original sense of the word "changeling", the play seems most inappropriately titled: the characters clearly aren't interchangeable at all.

Wondrous Luck, Uncommonly Cruel Fate

One of the more interesting illustrations of chance and fate is found in Beatrice’s use of De Flores to dispatch of Alonzo. After hatching this plan, Beatrice exclaims, “Why, men of art make much of poison,/ Keep one to expel another; where was my art?” (II.ii.46-47). By referring to this apt proverb about one poison inoculating against another poison, (as explained in the gloss) Beatrice seems to bask in the convenience -or luck- of having a ready and eager dupe to do remove her irritating fiancé.

However, Beatrice’s luck is not as rosy as it first appears. After he kills Alonzo, De Flores comes to claim his payment, but he is not interested in the monetary reward Beatrice had in mind. Instead, De Flores uses this as an opportunity –or excuse- to fulfill his obsession with Beatrice by raping her at end of Act III. At the close of the act, Beatrice laments this dark turn of events, saying,

Vengeance begins,
Murder I see is followed by more sins.
Was my creation in the womb so cursed
It must engender with a viper first?
(III.iv.163-67)

With this pitiful outcry, Beatrice bemoans the foul turn in her fortune. This unforeseen turn from promising to horrifying follows her comments earlier in the play on judgment:

Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgements,
And should give certain judgement what they see;
But they are rash sometimes and tell us wonders
Of common things…
(I.i.73-76)

Just as she forewarned, Beatrice has fallen prey to a terrible error in judgment and is now suffering the sadistic side of fate.

Even though she believes that this fate is some sort of “vengeance” for orchestrating the murder of Alonzo, she does not fully acknowledge this as a consequence of her own decisions and actions. Rather, she calls herself “cursed” and casts these events in the light of predestination, believing not that she had control or a choice in the outcome, but instead that all these events were set in motion since she was born.

Stalking Members of Time

Although this play has many scenes that are influenced by being in the right place at the right time, the scene that most interested me was when De Flores witnesses the lovers' interlude in Act 2, Scene 2. The meeting is supposed to be private and secret, yet De Flores views the interlude without being caught. He overhears the conversation held between Beatrice and Alsemero. In this one instance of being in the right place at the right time, De Flores sets the action in motion that will later cause the tragedy of the play. As he states, "I have watched this meeting, and do wonder much/what shall become of t'other; I'm sure both/Cannot be served unless she transgress," he is devulging information about not only his agency in the play but also his inability to stop his obsession with his desire for her body (Act 2, Scene 2, lines 57-59). This part of the play insinuates that there is an overlap between what is chance and what is choice. For instance, De Flores chose to follow Beatrice because of his obessession for her. He chose to confront her after witnessing this scene. He even chose to murder for her. However, it was also chance, and possibly destiny/fate, working for him when he happened to watch the meeting between Beatrice and Alsemero (since it was supposed to be private). It was also fate that led him to be the one Beatrice chose to employ as assassin. This scene, this chance encounter he's witnessed, led him to believe that she would "fly from one point, from him she makes a husband,/she spreads and mounts then like arithmetic--/one, ten, a hundred, a thousand, then thousand," that she would go to bed with him (Act 2, scene 2, lines 61-63). She gives him hope that she will be willing to "mount" him as well.

Thus, we are left with the question: what is the chance and what is the choice of this play, of this scene? In all reality, this question does not have a direct answer, but rather a concordance between the two. For without his stalkish and obsessive behavior, De Flores might never have stumbled upon the lovers' interlude; yet, without the chance encounter, he might never have murdered for her or had the power to force her to bed with him. As such, I would venture to say that the relationship between the agency of the characters, especially De Flores, and the idea of being in the right place at the right time is one of interdependency. One cannot exist without the other. The play could not procede without both.

Wrong Time, Wrong Place

In a play that contains so much substitution and masked identities, it appears that one cannot assume that being in "the right place at the right time" is actually a good place to be.  In fact, there are multiple instances in the play when characters believe themselves to be positions of good fortune and great luck, when they are actually in great peril and ominous danger.  

It all starts with Beatrice and Alsemero meeting.  Alsemero is enamored by his newly found love and insists that his love is authentic, saying, "yesterday / Was mine eyes' employment, and hither now / They brought my judgement, where both are agreed (1.i. 78-80)."  He seems quite sure that his feelings and judgement have sent him in the right direction, however, it is later discovered that his love for Beatrice leads to her moral downfall and eventual death.  This is clearly not the right place or time for Alsemero to fall in love.

Antonio also seems to have luck on his side in the beginning of the play.  He masquerades as a mad man in order to get closer to Isabella and gain her love.  His wishes seem to be coming true, but he ends up being less lucky than he thought.  When Vermandero starts investigating Alonzo's murder, Antonio is determined to be one of those at fault.  Upon hearing that Antonio and Franciscus have been absent from the castle for ten days, Vermandero says, "The time accuses 'em (IV.ii 9)" and their fate seems to be sealed.

Diaphanta's luck also runs out just when she thinks she is getting her wish.  Throughout the play, she flirts with Alsemero and displays quite a bit of affection for him.  She is quite willing (and even overjoyed) to take Beatrice's place in bed with Alsemero.  Unfortunately, Beatrice becomes jealous because her replacement stays with Alsemero a rather long time and seems to be enjoying herself too much.  Just when Diaphanta thinks she is getting her wish, she is killed for it.

Till the Time Opens: Fate and Mutability

The Changeling opens with an almost obsessive compulsive parsing of omens and astrological significances. For example, Jasperino urges Alsemero to seize the propitious conditions for his sea voyage:

“’Tis the critical day, it seems, and the sign in Aquarius” (1.1.49)

Perhaps, the ensuing tragedy could have been avoided if Alsemero had heeded the signs. In contrast, De Flores replies to Beatrice-Joanna’s urging to be “wondrous careful in the execution” of their plot, by suggesting “Why, are not both our lives upon the cast?” (2.2.139-140).

In an attempt to consider what Middleton and Rowley are up to in The Changeling we will address the relationship between destiny and chance, between predestination and the roll of the dice.

Lorenzo Spirito. "Wheel of Fortune with the Zodiac Sign of the Moon" 
in Libro de la Ventura (Book of Fortune), 1508.

The following are images taken from an almanac and astrological guidebook written in 1622:

Richard Allestree, 1622 a new almanack and prognosti[cation] ... of our Lord God, ... being the 2 from bissextil yeer: calculated and properly referred to the longitude and sublimity of the Pole Articke of the famous towne of Derby, & may serue generally for the most part of Great-Brittaine

Your task for this week’s blog is to attempt to make sense of the relationship between the characters’ fixation on marking auspicious, promising, or providential circumstances and the actual agency of the characters in determining their fate. Put simply, what does it mean to be in the right place at the right time in a play consumed with changeability and substitution? Draw on a specific moment in the text to support your answer.

The opposite of subtle, Justice

There are many levels to the Justice's character in this play. His personality has depth as do his actions. In justice's name he disguises himself as a fool. All of his actions are written off in the name of the commonwealth, for the king and for justice. But is it justice to dress up and trick people? To serve justice through means of trickery? Isn't one form of trickery just as bad as cutpurse trickery? It is also interesting to think about the implications of one dressing up as a fool, it begs to question which really is the costume and the true character, justice or fool? That is just an initial thought; the particular speech I wanted to talk about is his rant against tobacco and beer. While he is sitting at a bar, and has finished one drink already and has called for another and called for company and an audience. He truly seems to be enjoying himself in his affrontery, and then denounces that which he just partook in. He rants against the wrongs of tobacco and beer in act 2 scene 6, and ends his speech with, "And still the bottle-ale slavereth, and the tobacco stinketh" (2.6.85-86). This is but one instance of the humor to be had by outright hypocracy, the joke is not a subtle one, but is still funny nonetheless. I am excited to keep an eye on this character in particular. If this were a horserace or a sporting event I would like to put my money on Knockem as the guy I like or the horse I want to bet on. He seems like a good fellow to me, his obsession with "Vapours" reminds me of a peaceful guy who is concerned about good vibes, and if you don't spread good vibes then don't project your bad vibes on him. He reminds me of Merrythought.

Justice Overdo "Over-does" It Again

A character I find particularly interesting in Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair is the Justice. Despite his attempts to remain inconspicuous (at least during parts of the play), he constantly finds himself in the middle of drama and difficult situations.  In a way, there is irony simply in the fact that Justice Overdo is supposed to be the Justice of the Peace—his duty is to maintain justice and peace, yet he is continually in the midst of chaotic scenarios.  In Act three, scene three, the Justice does himself a sort of in-justice (cheesey pun not-really-inteded J ) and goes into an overly long soliloquy.  The very first lines he speaks is that he “will make no more orations shall draw / on these tragical conclusions.” (Act 3, scene 3, lines 1-2)  Justice Overdo then proceeds to speak for forty-two straight lines—about said “tragical conclusions,” no less.  This soliloquy is the longest (so far as I remember, and can tell from skimming the rest of the play) single, solid section spoken by one character!  The fact that Justice “Over-do” overdoes his speech, as well as hypocritically stating that he will no longer speak of the very situation that he ends up giving a speech about, reveals that the Justice is yet another character whose own spoken words lead to a minor sort of self-demise. 

You Are What You Eat

In Act II, Jonson finally introduces us to Ursla, the infamous pig seller as she cries, "Quickly, a bottle of ale to quench me, rascal.  I am all fire and all fat, Nightengale; I shall e'en melt away to the first woman, a rib again, I am afraid.  I do water the ground in knots as I go, like a great garden-pot; you may follow me by the S's I make." (Act II, scene ii, lines 49-53).  This line conjures the image of a great woman, sweating profusely as she ambles about her stand.  However, though literally, the line says that we can follow the marks left on the dirt by herdrops of sweat, the footnote tells us that the "S's" she makes on the ground is a joke that implicates those S's are her own urine.  Indeed, "S's" calls to mind the sound in the word "pissing" as well as the sound urine makes.  Here we have a woman who is not only drenched in her own sweat (sweating like a pig, in fact), but waddling around in her own filth.  Very pig-like, no?  Not even a minute into her first appearance on-stage, Ursla unwittingly admits that she herself has become the very thing she sells and eats: an overweight, dirty, gluttonous swine.  Even the comment that she will melt away to "the first woman, a rib again" can implicate her piggishness... pork ribs are quite a tasty treat!  Ursla seems to have conquered the famous adage, "you are what you eat."  The question is, since many of the characters in the play, including the Puritans set out to the fair to eat Ursla's pigs, are they what they eat, too?  Might Jonson be suggesting we are all gluttonous pigs?

Kiss and Tell

The word proctor, initially was understood as a person involved in the legal field with a specialty in church law, wills etc.[1] I agreed with Robbie in my assumption that this position 'should' tale a certain amount of intelligence and "wit" to execute. Littlewit's parading of Win-the-Fight in un-puritan dress and his insistence that Win accept the kisses of both Winwife and Quarlous seem to prove that Littlewit has no wit at all. Johnson presents us with a man that seems to be willing to trade his wife's honor for the security of being in favor with the future husband of the duchess. The Duchess clearly has a hand in the support of Littlewit's household, Johnson seems to imply that the women will just have to adjust and accommodate everyone until a suitor is chosen by the Duchess. I think it is particularly scandalous that Littlewit allows two unmarried men, outside the immediate family, to kiss his pregnant wife despite her protests. Perhaps Littlewit is only 'witty' because he knows how to manipulate the perception of his family to his advantage. Is a man kissing another man's wife only a concern in modern times?

Bzzzzzz.....

Wasp is just one among the many appropriately-named individuals inhabiting Bartholomew Fair. He is always running around complaining and chastising in everyone's ears. In Act I, scene 4, Wasp declares how rushed he is: "Ay, quickly, good mistress, I pray you...(Now I am in haste.) " and yet less than a hundred lines later he stays to complain with Littlewit, even though Littlewit reminds him of his insistence on the need for quick delivery of the box: "you were in haste e'en now, Master Numps,"(14, 19, 99). Wasp agrees, but in a choice between hurrying off and telling everyone about how much he suffers because of his charge Bartholomew Cokes, complaining wins out. He acknowledges his need to leave, but nonetheless says, "yet I will stay too," (100). He then proceeds to bash poor Win as well as Cokes for their lack of wit and common sense. Like Polonius in Hamlet, Wasp seems to delight in the sound of his own voice, speaking at quite length even after receiving the package for which he waited so impatiently. In fact, he talks for so long that by the time he stops, his charge has met up with him! All his fuss and bother was for nothing – Wasp has been unveiled as being utterly ridiculous.

The humor of this moment lies in the fact that until the moment when Cokes walks in with Grace and Mistress Overdo, readers believe that Wasp is the ridiculous member of their little party. He’s rushing off to deliver this box to the poor young man that will be getting married shortly. Readers have no need to doubt who the clown is. Yet immediately upon meeting Cokes, readers become aware of the true measure of insanity with which Wasp has been forced to deal. Even the most unsympathetic of readers must wince at the annoying sound of Cokes voice, which is evident even when silently printed on a page. Wasp’s previous moaning and groaning becomes instantly understandable – who wouldn’t act the same when forced to reign in such an utterly brainless twit?

The Moral Lens

Although most of Johnson’s scathing critiques of society in “Bartholomew Fair” are highly entertaining, I found his satire concerning Busy in Act III to be quite interesting. Busy’s actions in scene 2 seem to reveal Johnson’s opinion on human morality quite clearly.  While Johnson uses the entire play to achieve this same critique, I felt this scene was particularly intense.  The religious fervor with which Busy addresses every aspect of the Fair is quite apparent throughout the play but we finally see his true personality in his search for the pig flesh.  In this scene, Busy does not hesitate to twist one of his frequent sermons into a way to justify his actions. Using Busy, Johnson shows the audience that one man (in this case an extremely religious man) is no better than any other. While this is no new concept, it seems like Johnson is telling us much more. He effectively shows that any man will succumb to his basic desires as long as he can find a way to fool himself into believing his actions are justified. Busy consistently builds up his religious pride to the point where he convinces himself and those around him that his search for fleshly satisfaction is more of a service to his companions. He shows how a man that sets moral standards for himself is bound to those morals primarily by the extent to which he can translate them. Although Johnson does not condone the actions of the clearly vulgar characters in the play, he gives the audience a sense that perhaps they have more moral fiber than the characters that express such religious zeal. By openly embracing their desire to satisfy themselves, they seem to achieve a level of honesty impossible for a man like Busy. Johnson shows us that Busy’s ideals are little more than a lens through which he can view himself as a righteous man no matter what his actions may be. The only problem with the lens is that it is imited to influencing Busy's perception.

Littlewit's little wit

In the opening act of the play, Littlewit, Win, Quarlous, and Winwife are engaged in a conversation, during which, Littlewit blatantly allows the other gentlemen to kiss his wife.  Win is very much in protest against this action and finds it ridiculous that her husband allows, if not, encourages it.  After Quarlous's kiss, she exclaims, "Why, John? Do you see this, John? Look you! Help me, John (1.3. 37-38)."  Littlewit replies by telling his wife that she has no need for objection, saying, "They'll do you no harm, Win, they are both our worshipful good friends (1.3 45-46)."  It seems quite strange for a man to allow others to kiss his wife, especially while she protests.  As we learned from "A Woman Killed with Kindness," extra-marital affection was scoffed at (to say the least) in this time period.  Littlewit's attitude seems to be quite a contrast to that of Frankford in "Woman Killed."  Having said that, what are we to expect from a character with such a name as "Littlewit?"  Jonson seems to be offering a glimpse into this man's apparently dim psyche right off the bat in the play.  This first act seems to set Littlewit up for complete failure as a husband and as the learned man he is expected to be (I'm not sure what a "proctor" was at this time, but I'm assuming it is a profession similar to that of a lawyer).

Busy Hypocrisy

The criticism Jonson makes about religion, class, and society as a whole are harsh in Bartholomew Fair, and sometimes downright cruel. Through his language and verse Jonson reveals the true nature of Bartholomew's characters, each upholding to thier own foolishness and hyprocrisy in different ways and actions. Zeal-of-the-land Busy illistrates this technique of Jonsons in end of Act I. While the fair and all its glory is the heat of the conversation in Act I, Busy speaks against it and all its evils: "The place is not much, not very much; we may be religious in midst of the profane, so it be eaten with a reformed mouth, with sobriety and humbleness, not gorged in with gluttony or greediness" (Act I, scene I.6, lines 73-78). Busy is referring to the pig that Win is "craving," although she is only faking so her and Littlewit have an excuse to go to the fair. Although Busy belittles the fair, he himself succombs to the fair, perhaps due to his own personal desires to attend but is too proud to admit. In the end of Act I he says: "In the way of comfort of the weak, I will go, and eat...There may be good use made of it, too, not I think on 't: by the public eating of swine's flesh, to profess our hate and loathing of Judiasm, whereof the brethren stand taxed. I will thereofre eat, yea, I will eat exceedingly" (Act I, scene I.6, lines 95-100). Through this last declaration, Busy proves himself a hypocrite. He has made an excuse to "eat exceedingly" although he has previously denounced his hate for the fair. Jonson is also criticizing religion (Puritans) as well in this verse, for Busy hates on the Jews, but Busy does not even hold up to his own religious values and beliefs, which portrays his religion as destorted and undisplined, which are characteristics he says are of the Jews. Busy is no better than "fools" he speaks of at the fair, for he attends and plans to eat pig, which helps the fair make profit and continue their services. Through his language and actions Busy proves himself a hypocrite without ever intentionally trying to do so.

A Fool of a Lad

Out of all the characters in Ben Jonson’s “Bartholomew Fair,” Bartholomew Cokes presents himself in a very unfortunate light as he sails about the fair, spending money, having his purse stolen from him while singing about cutpurses, and having even his servant have more wit, cunning, and control than he does. The scene that I find most intriguing about how he presents himself occurs in Act 3, Scene 5 when he withdraws his purse and dangles it in front of the fair folk (including the man who will eventually steal from him) only to have everyone around him assume him to be a fool. He taunts the cutpurses to do what they will when he joins in the song being sung by Nightingale and when he states, “A good jest, I’ faith; I would fain see that demon, your cutpurse you talk of, that delicate-handed devil. They say he walks hereabout; I would see him walk, now” (lines 36-38). These lines seem to indicate that Jonson was critiquing the upper class in their idiocy of not only squandering their money but being careless with their estates. This becomes even more apparent as Cokes buys good that he has no use of, loses not one but two purses, and still borrows money from Littlewit in Act 4.
By Cokes himself speaking about how he would like to see the “delicate-handed devil” walk among them and try and steal his purse, he demonstrates his complete lack of understanding of the world. He seems completely naïve and unable to comprehend the world around him. Quite frankly, he’s an idiot to throw/demonstrate his money around and still lose it more than once. By his speech about cutpurses simply being a jest, we can see that his upper class upbringing has made him careless. I think Jonson presented Cokes’ personality with his actions and his speech in this way in order to critique the upper class’ inability to comprehend the lifestyle of the lower classes (of the fair). Indeed, Cokes’ speech presents a social commentary at the expense of himself being the butt of the joke. He is the fool who only sees life through the lens of his upper class privilege; he cannot survive in the “fair world” nor can he survive in the lower class realm. From this, I am to understand that Jonson is mocking all of the upper class members of society who flounder their fortunes on meaningless “fairlings.”

Getting the “Vapours”: The Performance of Wit

Comic by Tom Gauld

In poetic homage, Francis Beaumont wrote of Ben Jonson:

Methinks the little wit I had is lost
Since I saw you; for wit is like a rest
Held up at tennis, which men do the best
With the best gamesters
Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson, ca. 1608-1610

About fifty years later, John Dryden made the pithy remark:

In reading Shakespeare, we often meet passages so congenial to our nature and feelings, that, beautiful as they are, we can hardly help wondering why they did not occur to ourselves; in studying Jonson, we have often to marvel how his conceptions could have occurred to any human being.
An Essay of Dramatic Poets Works, 1668

As you have discovered this week while reading Bartholomew Fair, following Jonson’s language, euphemisms, and citational references, both classical and local, is no small achievement. As we noted in our discussion of the Induction, Jonson’s acerbic satire does not spare anyone (perhaps not even the playwright himself); he is famous for besting anyone in games of wit. In his drama, this often comes across as irony, since the words that indict his character types tend to come from their own mouths. Your job this week is to kill one of his bitter jokes by explaining it.

Frontispiece to The Wits or Sport upon Sport (London, 1662). Attributed to Francis Kirkman.

Please select a particularly “biting” passage in which a character unwittingly reveals something embarrassing, unpleasant, or unfortunate about him- or herself. Because Jonson’s lampooning often has many layers, you can feel free to take up what interests you most about his critique: cultural, political, theatrical, religious, ideological, personal (etc. etc.). All that is required is that you explain some dimension of a character’s speaking at his or her own expense.

Idolatry and antitheatricalism

The Contents of the several Chapters following.

1 THat the eie is the instrument of wantonnesse, gluttony, and covetousnesse.
2 Howe Idolatry hath a kinde of necessary dependance vpon the eye.
3 How pride is begotten and nourished by the eye.
4 That often seeing is the meanes to drawe both things and persons into contempt.
5 How curiositie and prying into other men busines is bred & maintained by the eye.
6 Of bewitching by the eye.
7 How the generall rebellion of the body is occasioned by the eye.
8 How the eye was the chiefe occasion of originall sinne and of examples in all those mischiefes which formerly are proved to arise from it.
9 Of the false report which the ey makes to the inner· faculties in the apprehension of naturall things.
10 A generall discourse of the delusion of the eye by artificial meanes, a also by the passions of the minde.
11 Of the delusion of the sight in particular by the immed[...]e working of the divell.
12 Of the delusion of the sight by the inchantments of sorcerers.
13 Of the delusion of the fight by the exocismes of onirers.
14 Of the delusion of the sight by the knavery and imposure of Priests & Friers.
15 Of the delusion of the sight by the distemper of the braine.
16 Of the delusion of the sight by the smooth carriage of Hypocrits.
17 Of the delusio~ of the sight by stratagems of warre.
18 Of the delusio~ of the sight by painting.
19 That the eies serue not only as trecherous porters & false reporter in naturall & artificiall things but also as secret intelligencers for discovering the passions of the mind, and diseases of the body.
20 Of the insinit diseases & casualies which the eie it self is subiect vnto.
21 That the eye is not so vsefull for the gathering of knowledge, as is pretended; whether we conside it absolutely in it selfe, or respectiuely in regard of hearing.
22 Containing an answere to an obiection that man alone hath therefore givn him an vpright figure of bodie to the ende hee might behold the heavens.
23 Setting downe at large the hindrances of the eie in the service of God.
24 That supposing the sigh did not hinder· yet is it proued that it furthr litle in the matter of religio~; together with the particular answers to sundry obiections.
25 That the popish religion consists more in eye-service then the reformed.
26 That the sight of the creature helpeth s little in the true knowledg of God.
27 That the eye of the sence failing, that of the vnderstanding & spirit wx more cleare.
28 Treating of the divers priviledges of blind men.
29 That blind men need not co~plain of the want of pleasures, especially the sense of many giefes, being by blindnes much lesned, which is proved by the strong impression of those obiects which to the inner faculties are presented by the eye.
30 That blind men need not co~plaine of their disability in serving the co~mon wealth which is proued by some reasons but chiefly by examples in all kindes.
31 A conclusion of the whole discours by way of meditation or soliloquie.

From Gosson: Playes Confuted in Five Action (1582)

so we giue thakes for the benefits we receiue, that we make the~ ye fountaines of al our blessings, wherin if we thinke as we speake, we commit idolatry, because we bestow yt vpo~
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the idols of ye Gentils, which is proper to God; if we make a diuorce betwene the tongue & the heart, honouringe the gods of ye heathens in lips, & in iesture, not in thought, yet it is idolatrie, because we do yt which is quite co~trary to ye outward profession of our faith. God tearmeth himselfe to be iealous, & iealosie misliketh the smallest iestures or signes of familiaritie, that are giuen to strangers. If Sidrach Misach, & Abednago had not knowne this, they might haue vailed and bended, to the Kings idoll, but because ye outwarde shew, must represe~t yt which is within, they would not seeme to be, that they were not: whose example is set dowe as arule for vs to followe. A bodie would thinke it to be somewhat tollerable, to sitt at the table of Idolators, or to eat of ye meate that hath bene consecrated vnto idols, whe~ we throw not our bodies downe before the~, yet is not yt to be suffred among Christians, as I proued before by ye Apostles, much les ought this to be suffred among vs, yt any should take vnto the~ yt names of ye idols, and iette vpon stages in theire attire, contrary to the counsel of Saint
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Iohn which exhorteth vs to kepe our selues fro~ idols, whrein he doth not onely forbid the worshipping, but the representing of an idoll. So subtill is the deuill, that vnder the colour of recreation, in London, and of exercise of learning, in the vniuersities, by séeing of playes, he maketh vs to ioyne with the Gentiles, in theire corruption. Because the sweete numbers of Poetrie flowing in verse, do wo~derfully tickle the hearers eares, the deuill hath tyed this to most of our playes, that whatsoeuer he would haue sticke fast to our soules, might slippe downe in suger by this intisement, for that which delighteth neuer troubleth our swallow. Thus when any matter of loue is enterlarded though the thinge it selfe bee able to allure vs, yet it is so sette out with sweetns of wordes, fitnes of Epithites, with Metaphors, Alegories, Hyperboles, Amphibologies, Similitudes, with Phrases, so pickt, so pure, so proper; with action, so smothe so liuely, so wanto~; that the poyson creeping on secretly without griefe chookes vs at last, and hurleth vs downe
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in a dead sleepe. As the Diuell hath brought in all that Poetrie can sing, so hath hee sought out euery streine that musicke is able to pipe, and drawe~ all kind of instruments into that compasse, simple and mixte.

Jonson in Contemporary Performacne

Bartholomew Fair at Stratford Canada this summer:

see http://www.stratfordfestival.ca/plays/bartholomew.cfm

There are many moments in Webster’s “Duchess of Malfi” where a handful of lines create a sort of foreshadowing for a later action in the play. A particularly interesting echo is near the end of Act I, scene i, just before the Duchess and Antonio wed. The two (though primarily the Duchess) are discussing death, and Antonio’s debts and obligations to the Duchess and Ferdinand. It is moments like this that truly make Webster’s play creepy, especially after looking back on the play (because, of course, looking back, one knows that the Duchess and Antonio are both murdered). Not only are Antonio and the Duchess standing beside her late husband’s tomb, but they are discussing death—all of which occurs just before they marry! What is most interesting is the Duchess’ use of the phrase “Quietus est.” (Act I, scene i, line 464) We discussed in class that this phrase is often pronounced over an individual’s tomb at his or her funeral. Yes, the Duchess is freeing Antonio from his debts (which is the literal translation of the phrase), but why would she choose to use a phrase so closely associated with death and funerals, just before the two wed? The use of this phrase is haunting in this instance because it is, essentially, the marriage of Antonio and Duchess that brings about their deaths. It is almost as if, in a superstitious way, it is because of the discussion of death (and most specifically, in my opinion, the use of “quietus est”) that the marriage begins (continues, and ends at death) in such an ominous, negative manner. This moment early in the play should also alert the audience of what is to come—that something strongly negative (most logically, death) should arise from this peculiar situation.

A Word Before You Go

"The Duchess of Malfi" is unusual structured for a tragedy in the fact that its titular character dies at the end of the fourth act, as opposed to the fifth. Though in theory robbing the final act of its most tragic death, it instead shocks and unsettles the character, and imbues the final act death of Antonio with an enormous amount of tragic impact, impact which may not have been felt as strongly as he was not quite as familiar or multifaceted a character as the Duchess. Moreover, the death scenes of these two characters exhibit one of the strongest instances of echo in the entire work. Both characters, after being fatally wounded, are visited by a repentant Bosola whoa informs them of the status of their family members. Though the scenes are nearly identical in each case, the information he imparts is necessarily opposite, rendering them undeniably similar yet distinct.

After wounding the Duchess, Bosola experiences a change of heart, renouncing the influence of her brothers and swearing filial loyalty to Antonio. His monologue is cut short by the Duchess' sudden signs of life as she opens her eyes and calls for Antonio. He responds with, "Yes, madam, he is living; the dead bodies you saw were but feigned statues; he's reconciled to your brothers; the pope hath wrought the atonement." to which she responds, "Mercy." and dies (IV, 341-5). Here, Bosola's mixture of truth (her family is still alive) and falsehood (Antonio is certainly NOT reconciled with her brothers) is Bosola's attempt to grant her a peaceful death, which he does, both saving his own character in the audience's eyes and providing for the tormented duchess the exit she deserves.

Antonio's death scene plays out nearly identically: after being mortally wounded he is attended by Bosola, who says, "I'll whisper one thing in your dying ear shall make your heart break quickly: Thy fair Duchess and two sweet children--" to which Antonio heartbreakingly interjects "Their very names kindle a little life in me," "are murdered! (V, 54-57)" Antonio goes on to give a short speech in which he essentially thanks Bosola for informing him, as after hearing such sad news he has nothing to live for, and so does not mind dying. The radical difference in Bosola's news still brings the same fate to Antonio as it did to the Duchess, resignation and understanding. In such a bleak play as this it is fitting that the only happiness afforded to these characters is a peaceful death, their mirror image death scenes perhaps indicating a reconnection in the afterlife. The key figure in these scenes, however, is Bosola, who functions like the crypt in act five, repeating the same action but in a "ghostly manner" the second time around.

Great men

There is an echo of the words "great men" in Duchess of Malfi. The Duchess' words at the end of act 3 summarizes how the notion of "great men" works in the play. She aks Bosola who is greatest. She tells him a story about how fish are values and ends, "So, to great men, the moral may be stretched: men oft are valued high when th' are most wretch'd." In the context of this play we are presented with men who hold varying levels of status and power but also different levels of character and integrity as well. The men in the highest offices, such as the Cardinal and Ferdinand, are the least great men in the play even though they are most commonly refered to as great men. Pescara, when talking about the Cardinal and the others says, "These factions amongst great men, they are like..." (3 . 3 . 35) "Great man" is echoed again in act 5. Bosola directly calls the Cardinal a great man. This repetition of great man helps enforce an idea in our head of great men who are in a position to fall from grace- which is exactly what happenes. In act 5 scene 5 Antonio speech echoes this theme without saying the words directly. In his speech before he dies he refers to "our quest for greatness." This ties Antonio to the words already in mind of "great man." And this is true, in the right sense of the words Antonio is a great man. In the last lines of the play this point is hammered home one last time when Delio says, "Nature doth nothing so great, for great men,/As when she's pleased to make them lords of truth:"

Bosola's Haunting

    At the very beginning of the play Bosola has just come in and then the Cardinal comes in after him; Bosola addresses him bluntly: "I do haunt you still" (1.1.27).  Bosola goes onto explain that he has been on a slave galley for some time in some way connected to the Cardinal.  To the Cardinals retreat he says "Some fellows, they say are possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to posses the greatest devil, and make him worse" (1.1.44-46).  This sets up what Bosola and the rest of society think about Cardinals and this one in particular.  Then there is the even more "haunting" line:

    "He and his brother are like plum trees that grow crooked over standing pools; they are rich and o'erladen with fruit, but none but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them.  Could I be one of their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears like a horse-leech till I were full, then drop off" (1.1.48-53).

    Bosola tells an enormous chunk of the plot all right here before the 54th line of the entire play!  He espouses how crooked the Cardinal and Ferdinand are, how rotten they are, and how it would be wise of him or good for him to grab on while he can and when full or when profited from them, let go and vanish.  If one pays attention to this line then it makes the end where he turns on the brothers inevitable but it seems to be easy to forget all this in the "dark" of the murder of the duchess and her children.  

    Bosola does indeed echo his own lines in actions by becoming full and dropping off but after he does so, he sees it fit to kill both brothers and in doing this dies himself...like a poor horse-leech.

Devouring Dead

During the torturous scene of the Duchess' death in Act IV, the Duchess prophetically proclaims before her strangulation, "Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out/they may feed in quiet."  This notion of devouring is echoed again in Act V.  It is revealed that Ferdinand has fallen into madness, exhibiting wolf-like behaviors, digging up graves in the dead of night, and coming home bearing dead body parts over his shoulder.  Ferdinand has been "devouring" graves, and this moment is incredibly creepy and disturbing if one questions exactly whose grave he has been eating?  Is it the Duchess's leg he steals?  

Not only does Webster provide a literal fulfillment of this devouring prophecy, but a metaphorical one.  Ferdinand becomes mad because he has been nursing, or feeding himself with the haunting memory of his dead sister.  Bosola also is haunted with the death of the Duchess.  He cries, "Still methinks the Duchess/Haunts me.  There, there!-/'Tis nothing but my melancholy./O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup,/That throws them down only to raise them up."  Bosola, though haunted by the memory of murdering the Duchess, reasons that it is his cup of bitterness to drink, to consume, to bear.  In a sense, he too, is devouring the Duchess.

Ironically, though Ferdinand and Bosola are men who devoured the Duchess until she was no more, and continue to devour her even after she is gone, they are in turn devoured by her memory.  Ferdinand and Bosola, as well as the Cardinal are slain in order to avenge the Duchess' death, while Antonio, perhaps the sole survivor who retains a vivid memory of his beloved, remains, allowing her memory to live on. 

Identity in Death

There are a number of subtle echoes that resonate through “The Duchess of Malfi” but I found one in particular to be very intriguing. Very early on in the play, we get the sense that perhaps the Duchess is not meant to live. Throughout the play she seems to face quite a struggle in her attempt to fit in to the land of the living. We first gain this sense when we find her almost nonchalantly writing her will in Act 1. (1.1.376) The abrupt manner in which the Duchess seems to propose and marry Antonio seems only to intensify this notion that she is struggling to maintain a purpose for her life.

The Duchess almost seems to drown out the echo of her fate through Acts 2 and 3, but the echo returns to us in full force in Act 4. While the Duchess is being tortured and prepared for her execution, she shows a great deal of composure. Cariola describes the way the Duchess looks as, “Like to your picture in the gallery,/ A deal of life in show, but none in practice;/Or rather like some reverend monument/ Whose ruins are even pitied.”(4.2.31-34) Although the Duchess is still alive, Cariola sees her as otherwise. She describes the Duchess as something other than living in the sense that she can be observed but has little affect of her own. We finally see the Duchess transition into her element in Act 4 when she is executed. She shows such great resolve in her dying moments that we find ourselves admiring her most at her point of death. Like Cariola’s description, we find the Duchess’ image much more potent when she no longer exists in the flesh than we did for the first three acts of the play.

We see the final resonation of this particular echo in Act 5 as the Duchess seems to haunt everyone involved with her death. This area of the play gives the audience the sense that perhaps the Duchess isn’t dead in the common sense. This concept is strengthened when her echo reaches Antonio. Perhaps the Duchess merely found her identity in her death. Whatever the reason, the Duchess’ echo seems to have more influence than she did in life.

The Ballad of The Two Faithful Friends

An interesting echo that occurs in the play is between Ferdinand and the Duchess and the Duchess' mentioning of the ballad of Alexander and Lodwick. Alexander and Lodwick (according to our text's footnotes) were so alike that they couldn't be told apart. Lodwick married the Princess of Hungaria as Alexander and placed an unsheathed sword between them each night as a mark of his unwillingness to betray his friend. The Duchess mentions this story to Antonio after their secret marriage in Act 1 scene 1 to appease some of his fears about her brothers. She describes putting a similar sword between herself and Antonio in bed. The Duchess seems to realize that Ferdinand (her twin)will see this secret marriage as an issue, her chastity already in question since she must put "a naked sword" between them. While this seems like a sweet gesture towards Antonio's fears, it also echoes the split that will come between them. The sword could represent Ferdinand, who will cut them both while they sleep. The sword could also represent the Duchess and Antonio being separated by force. The Duchess' mentioning of the Ballad "The Two Faithful Friends" seems to foreshadow the events of her betrayal. What and odd ballad to mention at so tender a moment.

Antonio's Prophetic Atatements

One of the major echoes that occuurs in the beginning of the play is gestures that are made by the Duchess and Antonio, and also remarks that Antonio makes regarding the marriage. In Act I scene i, around lines 398, interesting conversation begins to take place. Antonio is speaking of the duties of being a father, and what it means to be a father. Tje Duchess calls attention to Antonion "bloodshot" eyes, in which the Duchess tells him to "use my ring 't"(l404). The Duchess explaims that it is her wedding ring from her previous marriage, which is important to note that ended in death. She said that she had never parted with it only to Antonio-her second husband. Once the Duchess has parted with her ring, Antonio says that [the ring] has made him "stark blind" and goes on to say that "There is a saucy and ambitious devil/Is dauncing in this circle"(ll 412-413). This entire scene is ver foreboding and someaht creepy. We get the idea that this ring is a sort of haunting-being once owned by her dead husband. When Antonio mentions the "saucy devil", it is very foreboding of the marriage that is to come. Considering that both Antonio and the Duchess' demise comes from this secret exchange of vows, it is interesting thatand quite prophetic on Antonio's part to make mention to the devil that is "dauncing" in their circle of marriage. The reader/audience can clearly see that Webster has used this scene to prepare those for what is to come for the married couple.Webster does not leave much room for ambiguity-for this scene is fairly straight forward in its remarks about the marriage.

Just a Bloody Nose?

Antonio risks much through his marriage to the Duchess.  There is no doubt that upon entering into the marriage, Antonio is aware of the fact that he is putting his life on the line, not to mention the lives of many other individuals of the court.  He knows that blood could be shed as a result of his union with the Duchess, but it is questionable as to how seriously he takes this idea into account.

The bloody demise of Antonio's family might be considered an "echo" of several events in Act II.  After the birth of one of his children, Antonio finds himself discussing the matter with Delio.  Antonio expresses anxiety over his delicate situation, saying, "...fear presents me / Somewhat that looks like danger (2.2. 73-74)."  Delio attempts to calm Antonio by talking his concern up to nothing more than fear and explains how men are too often haunted by little more than mere superstition.  He says, "How superstitiously we mind our evils! / The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, / Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, / Or singing of a cricket, are of pow'r / to daunt whole man in us (2.2. 77-81)."  Incidentally, no more than one scene later, Antonio remarks, "My nose bleeds (2.3. 42)."  Webster could not provide a more blunt line of foreshadowing!  Antonio's bloody nose is but an "echo" of the blood shed that is to come.  Antonio ignores this warning, however, saying, "One that were superstitious would count / This ominous, when it merely comes by chance. / Two letters, that were wrought here for my name, / Are drowned in blood! / Mere accident (2.3. 43-45)."  Such a statement makes Antonio appear almost foolish by the end of the play.  How could he ignore such a candid sign?  Although, it is questionable whether or not he could do anything at that point in the plot to prevent the slaughter of his family.  Perhaps his consoling self-talk is but a method of maintaining his sanity on a darkening road to death.

In the conversation between the Duchess and Antonio that ends with an agreement for the two to marry, the Duchess, at first, does not tell Antonio why he has been summoned. Instead, she tells him,
I am making my will ...
Were not one better make it smiling, thus,
Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,
As if the gifts we parted with procured
That violent distraction?
(I.i.376-381)
Why, would someone bring up death right before speaking of marriage? The two are generally viewed as the antithesis of each other: one ending life and the other marking the beginning of a "new" life. Yet the Duchess, who has herself suffered from death in a marriage, brings up the topic before even asking him to marry her. It's awkward - certainly not a romantic beginning to the conversation - and it's uncomfortable. The language she uses is so vivid and specific that one wonders if this is what her husband went through on his death bed. Readers know so little about him and the Duchess's relationship with him that it seems possible.
The Duchess goes on to explain that if she were married, there would be no need for a will - everything she owns would automatically revert to her husband's holdings. She doesn't consider that her husband might not outlive her, as was the case with her first husband. This seems odd. One would think that since this has already happened to her, it would be a possibility she would address. Perhaps this is simply a part of her wooing strategy. It seems more likely, however, that she looked on the life she wants to start with Antonio as a new start, a beautiful beginning.
The passage can't truly be called prophetic, because, ironically enough, she does not end up groaning and violently mad before her death, though Cariola's desperate casting about for an excuse to halt her own execution could fit this description. She is surrounded in her last days, however, by those who sound as tormented as she would be in the death she envisions earlier in the play. Her own death, she confronts calmly and cooly, as though she is unsurprised by this tragic end to her life.

The Caged Bird’s Woe

The idea of imprisonment resonates throughout the entirety of “The Duchess of Malfi.” Most interestingly, however, is Webster’s use of an echo is the formation of a bird being encaged. During Act 3, the Duchess comments to Antonio, “The birds that live I’the’ field/On the wild benefit of nature live/Happier than we;/for they may choose their mates,/And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring” (scene 3, lines 18-21). Although this line does not specifically state that the birds are encaged, it does allude to the fact that the Duchess and Antonio are not allowed to love; they are imprisoned (metaphorically and, later, physically) by the Duchess’ brothers. These lines are very evocative of the Duchess’ later lines in Act 4 when she is physically imprisoned by Ferdinand when she says, “The robin redbreast and the nightingale/Never live long in cages” (scene 1, lines 11-12). These lines in Act 4 “echo” the sentiment in Act 3 because of the lamentation of the fact that when birds, and people, who are supposed to be allowed to love and be full of freedom are encaged their souls begin to despair. This echo is further continued in Act 4, scene 2, when the Duchess again reiterates, “Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage?/Such is the soul in the body” (lines 127-128). This third and final echo within “The Duchess of Malfi” ties the first two echoes together. At first, (without reading the final echo) the lines appear to be ambiguous of one another. The birds having absolute freedom and then losing their freedom, their love, within the confines of a cage does not create a direct connection until the final echo scene. Although this is not a creepy connection, the very fact that the Duchess seems to be, not prophesying about the future but rather creating a strand of echoes in which to form a connection between the metaphor of Antonio and the Duchess both being like and unlike the birds. They are not allowed to love freely, like the birds are, but just like the birds their souls despair and stop singing (like a lark) once they are encaged. These echoes create a somber ambiance instead of a creepy one. Much like the future counterparts by Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou who talk about the breaking of the spirit while talking about caged birds, Webster creates a similar sensation in his echoes. It is as if we are watching as the Duchess goes from being free, to being encaged, and then to having her soul start to break. Her voice and she, herself, becomes the caged bird full of woe.

Ghosts, Echoes and Reflections

Act V is filled with echoes. Thorough this final segment, various characters remind the audience of events they have just seen. This can be seen in Julia’s echoing of the Duchess. After Julia confesses her love to Bosola, he asks Julia if her advances toward him will cause the Cardinal to consider Bosola a villain. Julia contends that it will not be Bosola at all but rather Julia herself who will be blamed:

“No, he might count me a wanton,/Not lay a scruple of offence on you;/For if I see and steal a diamond,/The fault is not i’th’ stone but in me the thief/That purloins it. –I am sudden with you;/We that are great women of pleasure use to cut off/These certain wishes and unquiet longings,/And in an instant join the sweet delight/And the pretty excuse together. Had you been i’th’ street,/Under my chamber window, even there/I should have courted you” (V. ii. 187-197).

Julia’s description of a woman giving into her longings and being punished like a criminal while the object of her longings is left comparatively unharmed is a story that sounds all too familiar. This is one of the prime examples of where the ghost of Duchess seems to haunt Act V. Julia’s speech so closely mirrors the fate of the Duchess that one could argue that Julia has become possessed by the ghost of the Duchess.

With this echoing of the Duchess’s fate, Webster forces the audience to reconsider what they already seen: Why are these ‘great women of pleasure’ comparable to thieves and men to diamonds? Based on the thief and diamond allegory, were the punishments of Duchess and Antonio fair? How does this portrayal of women as decisive and active and men as passive objects relate to their depiction in the rest of the play? How does this story of throwing logic to the wind and embracing love reflect on the reference to Romeo and Juliette’s balcony scene?

These are some of the many questions Webster challenges his audience to consider with the numerous echoes throughout the play.

"Bloody Fool"

Webster not only uses a literal echo in Act V which is interpreted as the haunting of the Duchess who was executed in Act IV, but also a foreshadowing “echo” through his verse, words, actions, and language of other central characters. Through careful analysis of the actions and words of characters such as the Duchess and Ferdinand, readers understand their morals and values to be on different sides of a spectrum. The Duchess represents light and strength through her noble death, whereas Ferdinand represents darkness and corruption through his incestuous desires for his sister as well as the actions he takes to deal with those desires. Instead of representing either light or dark, Bosola is a character that seems to be caught and in the middle of moral goodness and badness, and through the verse Webster writes, readers are shown a forewarning of the fate for the torn Bosola.

In IV right after the execution of the Duchess, Bosola and Ferdinand have an argument on how Bosola’s “services” are to be paid but instead Ferdinand accuses him for murdering the Duchess and offers him nothing. Bosola challenges and says that it was by Ferdinand’s authority that he went through with the murder of the Duchess, at which time Ferdinand replies, “…Where shalt thou find this judgment registered unless in hell? See, like a bloody fool, Th’ hast forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for ‘t” (Act IV, lines 302-304, scene ii). This particular statement rings truth in the end of Act V when Bosola does indeed die. What is even more interesting are the words Webster uses for Ferdinand’s speech in this scene like “forfeited” and “fool.” After the Duchess dies and Bosola realizes the dishonesty of his ways and long after he can even be considered a hero, he promises to “join with thee [Antonio] in a most just revenge (Act V, line 342, scene iii) and therefore does really in a sense “forfeit” his life to gain revenge for the death of the Duchess. Ferdinand does in a way prophesize Bosola’s death, but instead of dying like a “bloody fool” as Ferdinand suggests, Bosola claims right before he dies, “It may be pain , but no harm to me to die in so good a quarrel” (Act V, lines 99-100, scene v). The prophecy of Bosola’s death is interesting and ironic because it is Ferdinand who dies a “bloody fool” and also as a consequence of the execution of the Duchess. It is by way of the Duchess’ death that Bosola slowly meets his death. It is also through Ferdinand’s manipulation and deceit towards Bolosa right after the Duchess is killed, that foreshadows truth through verse by prophesying Bosola’s death in Act V.

Textual Echoes in Duchess

A row of Mausoleums from the famous cemetery, Pere Lachaise, in Paris

Last week, you spent time searching EBBO for material that put the archive in conversation with the drama. For this week’s post, we will move from the general to the particular, by taking up Webster’s verse.

Michel de Marolless, The Nymph Echo Changed into Sound, 1655. 

In class, we discussed the unsettling “echo” scene from Act V (an act, as we suggested, haunted by the presence of the Duchess) in which Delio describes for Antonio their surroundings thusly:

“…this fortification/Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey;/And to yon side o’th’ river, lies a wall/Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion/Gives the best echo that you ever heard,/So hollow, and so dismal, and withal/So plain in the distinction of our words,/That many have suppos’d it is a spirit/That answers.”
(5.3.1-9)

Using this particularly rich and strange moment as a model, your assignment is to try to find an example in which the play functions similarly as its own “echo chamber.”

David Alfaro Siqueiros, Echo of a Scream, 1937.

Consider, for instance, the line that Sarah discussed in her presentation:

"Some would think the souls of princes were brought forth by some more weighty causes than those of meaner persons—they are deceived: there's the same hand to them" (2.1.105-8).

The line resonates interestingly in the "severed hand" scene that Tricomi writes about.

Your task is to find your own “echo” within The Duchess and describe its resonance. Questions to consider: How is the earlier moment evocative of what comes later? Does it seem prophetic, ambiguous, contradictory, or some combination thereof? Is it creepy? Why or why not?

Note: please carefully cite the lines or stage directions that you discuss.