00001.tif

PDF

Download

Open document

Transcript (if available)

Content PREVIEW OP THE VANISHING HERO: il A STUDY OP THE PROTAGONISTS IN JACOBEAN DRAMA by Elizabeth Truax /// A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OP THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OP SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OP PHILOSOPHY (English) August I968 UMI Number: DP23040 All rights reserved INFORMATION TO ALL USERS The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. Published by ProQuest LLC (2014). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author. Dissertation Publishing UMI DP23040 Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC. All rights reserved. This work is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code ProQuest LLC. 789 East Eisenhower Parkway P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 48106- 1346 U N IV E R S IT Y O F S O U T H E R N C A L IF O R N IA T H E G R A D U A T E S C H O O L U N I V E R S I T Y P A R K L O S A N G E L E S . C A L I F O R N I A 9 0 0 0 7 ~T<P6> S' This dissertation, w ritte n by ......ELIZABETH THUAX........._ •.. under the direction o f her.... Dissertation C om mittee, and approved by a ll its members, has been presented to and accepted by the Graduate School, in p a rtia l fu lfillm e n t o f requirements fo r the degree of D O C T O R O F P H I L O S O P H Y N f f Dean B ate August,.. 1 . 9 . 6 . 8 ............ DISSERTATION COMMITTEE k . " / 7 © C opyright by E L IZ A B E T H TRUAX r 19.69 ' TABLE OP CONTENTS Page INTRODUCTION................ . . 1 i Chapter I. THE HERO........................... . 8 I II. THE RENAISSANCE DRAMATIC CHARACTER ........ 17| III. ANTONIO'S REVENGE . . . ................. . . 29 j IV.. BUSSY D1AMBQIS ............... 64 ! V* THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 102 | VI, THE DUCHESS OF MALPI ............ 127 ! VII. THE CHANGELING ...... v . 162 ; CONCLUSION........................................ . 197 t f LIST OP WORKS C I T E D ................................ 205 INTRODUCTION i i i j During the brief period from approximately 1600 to j 1630, the hero of English drama is noticeably diminished ini stature and accomplishment from the traditional hero of j epic and tragic literature.^ The phenomenon of the less I 1 than heroic protagonist can be detected to greater or less-l er degree in a substantial number of the plays written at | this time, Typically* the Jacobean dramatists incorporate conventional type characters into conventional plot out- ' lines with strikingly unorthodox results. For the play- | wrights* by the use of realistic techniques and paradoxicalj treatment* reduce their apparently superior heroic protago-j nists to lesser figures who are trapped in a seemingly fu tile struggle against a hostile and terrifying world. The diminished protagonists of Marston's Antonio's Re venge * Chapman 1s Bussy D'Ambois* Tourneur's Revenger1s Tragedy, Webster's Duchess of Malfi, and Middleton and Row ley's Changeling will be examined in depth. These plays are selected because they contain a cross section of tragic A protagonists who experience a variety of dilemmas in a man- ■^The traditional hero is described in Chapter I. 1 2 ner which is typical of Renaissance drama as a whole, The work of three other major playwrights is deliberately omit ted from discussion: Marlowe, because he wrote about 1600; Ford, because he wrote after 1630, - and Shakespeare, because the volume of material both in the individual texts and in ! critical evaluations is so immense that his works deserve j 1 a study of their own. However, significant parallels be- i ! tween the plays under consideration here and other contem- | porary plays will be pointed out in footnotes, j I All the protagonists of the five Jacobean tragical j dramas to be examined here are drawn from heroic types j found in earlier literary genres such as epic and tragedy j 1 (princes and warriors), morality plays (allegorical types) ' I and novelle (courtly lovers), Although the Jacobean pro- ! ! tagonist is usually elevated in conformity with heroic tradition, many of them possess lower social and political rank than heroes of earlier times. Instead of kings and I I generals of great rank and prowess, the Jacobean play wrights sometimes introduce men (and even women) of lesser rank. Paradox becomes evident in situations in which these protagonists of inferior station are placed in positions of ■strategic importance. These characters also possess stereotyped traits in i |accord with Renaissance dramatic conventions and a humorous nature consistent with Elizabethan medical theory, and they I appear to be reasonable and virtuous in accord with the 3 ! 2 I moral tenets of the day. Paradoxically., however, just as j the playwrights tend to reduce the social status of their j protagonists, so do they reduce their physical and moral j strength. Often the Jacobean protagonists are enervated by I I their inability to control violent emotions--in particular | the emotions of grief and love. At times they lose the > capacity to reason and become so torn by emotional conflict that they are incapable of vigorous and manly action. In ! i addition, a protagonist may find himself overshadowed by a i more powerful antagonist. In some plays, several protago nists, not one of whom is clearly designated the hero, vie • t for honor. Also, the chief protagonist is, on occasion, a i i woman who by her very nature lacks physical powess, and 1 i therefore becomes subject to male domination, Consequentlyj the protagonists of these tragedies do not have the extra ordinary qualifications traditionally associated with the hero. They are lesser men and women. By reducing social and political status, and by stress ing man's natural weaknesses, such as susceptibility to pas sion, the playwrights create protagonists who seem more .'realistic and true to life than conventional type charac ters. But it must always be remembered that the "realism" used by the playwrights in these plays is actually a combi- 2 The conventions of the Renaissance dramatic character [will be discussed in Chapter II. 4 nation of seventeenth-century psycho-physical theory, con ventions of the theatre, and personal observation. In further accord with tradition, these humanized pro tagonists ostensibly follow the conventional behavior pat terns of the hero in the pursuit of his goal, but in vari ous ways they make radical departures from traditional ; i heroic action, In many cases, rather than champion a public cause, the Jacobean protagonist struggles to achieve his ! ! own individual integrity and his own sense of justice. Be- I cause of his self-concern or because of corruption within j the community, the protagonist becomes involved in a person-j al protest which he exercises in the form of a revolt | against constituted authority or conventional morality. As ; a result, he finds himself exiled physically and spiritually; from his community and is ultimately victimized for his non-j conformity. The expression of protest varies according to the spe cific literary tradition in which the play is written. The I ■protagonist of revenge tragedy follows the tradition of private protest against a person who has caused injury to a .member of the protagonist’s family. This protest, however, ibecomes extended to the society as a whole, which the pro tagonist discovers to be likewise corrupt. He therefore sets out in an almost single-handed rebellion, which re- I 'suits in exile and victimization for himself as well as the iannihilation of numerous innocent people. The decline of the hero's stature can also be attributed to the machinery of revenge tragedy because he is constantly tormented by delay and forced to fluctuate between inertia and excessive violence. Protagonists who appear in the .English adaptation of the French and Italian novelle are not concerned specific > cally with revenge or reform., but with a struggle to assert the individual's needs in a restricted, although not neces sarily corrupt, society* These characters may be personal~j ly ambitious or passionately in love with someone with ! i whom marriage is prohibited by the social mores. Driven byi passion, they engage -in acts which correspond to the pat- j tern of revolt, exile, and victimization previously de- ! I scribed. i Two other dramatic traditions adapted by writers of Jacobean drama, the morality play and the Greek epic, also give rise to protagonists who appear less heroic than their literary predecessors. The epical hero avows his pursuit of social reform, but acts only in terms of his own free spirit. The morality-linked protagonist commits acts which make him appear more villainous than heroic and winds up, as do all the other protagonists who depart from heroic tradition, exiled and victimized. Like earlier heroic tragedies, the Jacobean dramas conclude with an aura of glory as the hero achieves a mani festation of strength over weakness, a triumph of virtue over vice. In any event, the stage is littered with bodies of the guilty and the innocent, and the survivors prepare to . . re-establish order. Almost invariably, the protago- I nists meet death, the traditional fate of the hero. In the; plays to be examined here, the ending is consistent with i , . i tradition, but at the same time tentative rather than af firmative. The reyenge protagonists lack the heroic con viction that they have effectively purged corruption from ' society, for they recognize that they have eliminated only ' the imminent threat. Sometimes they express concern be cause the new leaders of the society are weak and ineffec- • i tual persons. The lovers, who believe in the validity of 1 passion, do not feel reconciled to the society which has condemned them for their unconventional acts. Thus, most of the Jacobean protagonists face death with bewilderment and a sense of futility and failure. The sole survivor is I ;a Stoic who accepts the evil in the world but cannot con- I .firm the heroic ideal of individualistic action to save a society. As a result, the action of the play terminates in the conventional manner, but the sense of heroic achieve ment is lacking. Because of the paradoxical treatment which the Jaco bean playwrights give to their protagonists, the plays seem less tragic than classical drama. However, the possibility ;that the playwrights had a different concept of tragedy in mind bears consideration, Bor them tragedy seems to be the1 7 recognition of the impossibility of traditional heroism by the human being who elects to determine his own way of life in a manner which is contrary to established social order. The first two chapters of this dissertation will be I devoted to studies of the ancient tradition of the hero and the conventions behind the Renaissance dramatic character., j for these concepts provide the basis upon which the Jaco- : bean playwright worked. In subsequent chapters, protago- ! I nists of five Jacobean dramas representing a variety of : I f dramatic traditions (revenge tragedy, epic, allegory, no- j velle) will be examined in. detail to demonstrate the curi- j ous diminution of stature which occurs from the paradoxical1 j amalgamation of the conceptual hero, derived from a multi- j plicity of traditions, and a partially realistic human I j being. I CHAPTER I THE HERO I What is a hero? The classic answer to this question is ; given, by Glaucusi "My father Hippolochus sent me to Troy with the instruction always to be brave and surpass all ! others and not to disgrace the ancestors."! 1 i The heroic ideal as described by Jan De Vries has long ! I been associated with strength., courage, ability to conquer j opponents and win fame for posterity, and to show a way to ! I a nobler life (p. 180). This ideal is not limited to the | j notions of a single culture or language, but has universal I I aspects. And so the hero of epic and tragic literature is j sometimes called the Hero-Archetype, Maud Bodkin writes j I that "archetypal patterns, or images, are present within 1 the experience communicated through poetry, and may be dis- i 2 :covered there by reflective analysis. These images can 'be compared to the culture patterns studied by anthropolo- Jan De Vries, Heroic Song and Heroic Legend, trans, B. J, Timmer (.London! 196 3)V P- l8o', The quotation is (taken from Homer’s Iliad VI.207-208, Other interesting :studies of the hero are Lord Raglan's The Hero, A Study in . Myth, Tradition, and Drama (London, 1936)> Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces (New York, 194-9) * and Maurice iB, McNamee's Honor and the Epic Hero (New York, 1959)* 2 Archetypal Patterns in Poetry (London, 193*4-) j p. 314-. 8 9 gists. Psychologically viewed, the hero is a projection of the emotional life of the community, and his experience of 1 something potentially realizable in human experience, any where, anytime. As defined by Maud Bodkin, the archetypal image of the hero in literature is therefore a projection ; of man's spirit and ideals and expresses "'the sense of self in relation to forces that appear under the names of God, or Pate [sic ], and of the devil" (p. 217), I In the earliest literature, the hero is always a supe- I rior man of noble birth and often a demi-god* In myths and < | early epic literature the hero, fathered perhaps by Zeus in• I disguise, as were Hercules and Achilles, has extraordinary ! ability which elevates him above his fellow men and enables him to perform deeds contrary to the conventional notions ; of morality, Eugene Waith pictures the Herculean hero as a special extra-human creature; The hero of mythology belongs to the realm of the semi- ! divine, the wonderful, the mysterious. Though he is a man, he Is so far removed from the ordinary that the generic classification hardly contains him. His origins may lie In religious ritual; his life is imbued with meanings only'understood. His exploits are strange mix tures of beneficence and crime, of fabulous quests and shameful betrayals, of triumph over wicked enemies and insensate slaughter of the innocent, yet the career is always a testimony to the greatness of a man who is al most a god--greatness which has less to do with goodness as it Is usually understood than with the transforming energy of the divine spark. That is not to say that tales about the hero excuse his moral defects, but rather that they point to a special morality.3 ^The Herculean Hero (New York, 1962), p, l6, 10 In subsequent literature another type of heroic figure emerges whose moral nature and commitment to community values contrasts with the divine* inscutable* unmoral na ture of the hero of myth. Much of the admiration for the exploits of this hero rests upon his human qualities* such j as the skills which he possesses in common with all men butj exercises to an exceptional degree. This hero* as 0. M. I Bowra describes him* is a man of superior gifts who is j presented and accepted as greater than ordinary men. The j stories of his adventures are absorbing because of his in- ! dividual character and personality. Bowra has greatest : praise for epics in which the interest is less in the magi-! I cal powers of a demi-god and more in human virtues: Heroic poetry comes into existence when popular atten- j tion concentrates not on a man's magical powers but on i his specifically human virtues* and* though the concep tion of him may keep some relics of an earlier outlook* he is admired because he satisfies new standards which set a high value on anyone who surpasses other men in qualities which all possess to some degree.^ The hero therefore is placed somewhere between the earth and the sky. MThe epic hero*" as Julian N. Hartt de scribes him* "is larger than life-size* although not neces- ■ sarlly better than common men." He is elevated "not above the human condition* but above the anonymity and faceless- :ness of the crowd-mass of the community,"^ ^Heroic Poetry (London* 1961)* p, 91- 1 ^The Lost Image of Man (Louisiana* 19^3 ) . > P* 13* 11 In Anatomy of Criticism, Northrop Frye classifies lit erary works according to the stature of the hero In rela- ; tionshlp to everyday man. He dismisses the hero who is a j divine being since the story 'of the myth Is not usually I found in normal literary categories. Heroes who are supe- ] rior in degree, such as the typical hero of a romance whosej actions are marvelous but who are nonetheless human beings, I are the second category, The third grouping, which Frye j i I calls the high mimetic mode, is, he feels, the mode of I tragedy and epic. The hero is superior in degree to other j men, but not to his natural environment, The hero is a I leader of men who possesses normal human passions and ! skills, but In addition possesses superior talents, Frye'si remaining fictional modes are the low mimetic mode in which! the hero is not superior to other men or to his environ ment, as in realistic fiction, and the ironic mode in which the hero is inferior in power and intelligence to 6 other men, as in contemporary absurd fiction. According to Frye the protagonists of all five types of literature are "heroes," but in this study the hero of the high mimet ic mode most closely approximates the image of the tradi tional hero of epic and tragedy, and that of the low mimet ic mode fits best the Jacobean protagonist. Having described the hero in literature as part man 6(Princeton, 1957), PP. 33-3^, and part superman (a spiritual descendant of his demi-god predecessor), it is next important to observe how he be haves, There are numerous studies which offer a detailed pattern of heroic behavior abstracted from the myths* i epics, and tragedies of all cultures. The following is a ! I composite picture of the pattern of heroic action., empha- ( sizing those features most typically found in heroic trag- edy. i ! i At the opening of the play the hero is revealed in an . i elevated position, a king or great warrior who is recog- i i nized as a man of superior physical and mental gifts. He | has successfully demonstrated his skill and courage in bat-J tie and won glory. He may now be called upon to perform a j great deed and become the champion of the people. If he ! is a king, his actions may be less overtly heroic as he i i must accept the burden of responsibility for the welfare of his people. He may also serve the cause of religion, 'In all cases he becomes engaged in a conflict which will determine the future of the community. Sometimes the hero achieves glorious victory, but more often in both epic and tragedy the hero meets early death or humilitation, The causes for his defeat are numerous. He may lose favor with I the gods and/or his subjects. Chance, fortune, or miseal- .culation may trip him. Or, because of a flaw in his per sonality (pride, ambition, jealousy, etc.), the hero may I perform acts which are contrary to the benefit of the com munity as a whole. There iSj however., splendor at the hour of defeat as the hero continues to struggle when the odds are hopeless. Whatever the reason for his defeat., the death of the hero results in the re-establishment of order 7 and a reaffirmation of the values of the community. Since the days of Aristotle., critical appraisal of the hero *s responsibility for his failure has varied consider ably., but there is general agreement that the hero need not be a paragon of virtue. Among contemporary critics., C. M. Bowra finds the hero subject to disastrous choice (chance) or disastrous mistake (error of judgment caused by miscal culation or defect in character), and his death is there fore a sacrifice to the -ideal of manhood, a sense of doom fulfilled as all men must die (Heroic Poetry, pp. 119-122). Northrop Frye sees all tragedy as a manifestation of na- :tural law and discounts the hero's moral sense since his downfall is causally connected with his act and the conse quences of being a strong person in.an exposed position. The hero disturbs a balance in nature which must be righted (pp. 38 and 213), T. R. Henn translates Aristotelian •hamartia into a psychological explanation of the hero's ■ failure which he terms the result of a struggle between i I 1 ^Hartt, p» 13; Raglan, pp, 178-179; Re Vries, pp. 210- i226; and Bowra, pp. 9^-131* opposing forces (the struggle for superiority and safety versus the dragging downwards through a sense of inferior ity) j a "joint in the armor," a bubble that bursts under 8 tension. Oscar Mandel finds moral perfection in a hero I q 1 unnecessary, but the experience of suffering is essential, ; and P. L. Lucas concurs but insists that a hero deeply ! 10 1 flawed must have some redeeming quality, 1 i What is apparently much more important than why the hero fails is the significance of his failure, the tragic i ( I vision of his travail. In epic and tragic literature, the ! i hero’s death or humiliation must mean something positive, ! if not to himself, at least to the reader or the audience. ! I The outcome of the tragedy must produce an affirmation. i i The vision, which Richard Sewall claims originally sets I i the hero to question and fight, is revealed to him at the J 1 end as a full if fleeting vision, through the temporary ; 11 disorder, of an ordered universe." According to Francis Fergusson, the hero’s life is a mysterious quest for his ,true nature and destiny, and the tragic rhythm of action (the substance or spiritual content of the play) may be summed up as a series of purpose-passion (or suffering) and Q The Harvest of Tragedy (London, 1956), pp. 93“10^« ^A Definition of Tragedy (New York, 1961), pp. 103-116. ^ Tragedyt Serious Drama in Relation to Aristotle's 'Poetics (New York, 1956), p.' 129. I ^~*~The Vision of Tragedy (New Haven, 1959) P* 1* perception units which proceed in successive modes until 12 the final perception, a final epiphany. This vision is not limited to the hero, but is ex tended by identification to the audience as well. As Henry \ Alonzo Myers explains, "the death of the hero is an affir- * mation of the unalterable conditions of life, a memorable ! symbol for multitudes who show their acceptance by liv- 1 * L Q j ing." Maud Bodkin relates the fate of the hero to the community consciousness: The experience of tragic drama both gives in the figure | of the hero an objective form to the self of imaginative 1 aspiration, or to the power-craving, and also, through j the hero's death, satisfies the counter movement of feel-; ing toward the surrender of personal claims and the merg-l ing of the ego within a greater power--the "community j consciousness." (Archetypal Patterns, p. 23) ■ The hero, in a capsule, is a warrior of great stature, the son of a king or a god. Stories of the hero's exploits1 ! are deeply rooted in the traditions.of the community. This warrior hero must perform a courageous deed on behalf of his community. However, he sometimes commits an error which jeopardizes the welfare of the society or is contrary to the socio-religious mores. The humiliation or .death of the hero which inevitably follows serves to justify and rein force the values the hero has endangered. Therefore, in 12The Idea of a Theater (New York, 19^-9) * PP. 30-38. ^ Tragedy: A View1 of Life (Ithaca, 195^), p. l48. See also Richard Y. Hathorn, Tragedy. Myth, and Mystery (Bloom ington, 1962), pp. 27-29 for a similar approach. ! 16 the final moments of the play., the conceptual hero, despite his misfortune, usually acknowledges his mistake, is rec onciled to the community values and, in some cases, per ceives a pervading sense of order in the world. i In Jacobean times the ancient tradition of the hero i persisted. But the tragic protagonists appear to be heroesj of diminished stature. They have lower social rank and ! moody erratic temperaments. They rarely achieve their 1 goals in a commendable manner and, even if they do achieve j i them, they often repudiate the traditional ideals of the j triumph of virtue and justice which the epic-tragic hero isj I expected to affirm. The Jacobean protagonist is still a I i [ heroic character of sorts, but because of his individualis-j 1 tic behavior the elevated and idealized stature which he ! seems to possess in the opening scenes of the play gradu- j I ally fades. In the final scenes, he is left alone, stripped !of all his glory, a preview of the vanishing hero of later centuries,14 ' The term "vanishing hero" was coined by Sean ',0'Failain as the title for his book. The Vanishing Hero s iStudies of Novelists in the Twenties (London, 195o), CHAPTER II THE -RENAISSANCE DRAMATIC CHARACTER Although the protagonists of Jacobean drama exemplify many features of the age-old tradition of the hero as de picted In various established literary genres ranging from epic and tragedy to morality plays and novelle, there are other factors which play an important part in a study of heroic characterization. In addition to traditional lite rary material, the playwrights utilized Renaissance stereo type conventions of character portrayal and adopted the framework of Elizabethan moral theory. The Renaissance moralists followed the principle of classical ethics which states that (in the words of Law rence Babb) "conduct motivated by reason is virtuous con duct; conduct motivated by unregulated passion is vicious 1 conduct." In terms of this theory, heroic protagonists were expected to direct their endeavors with reason and eschew inordinate passion. Eor, as Ruth Leila Anderson explains, passion blinds the individual to moral valuest The Elizabethan Malady (East Lansing, Mich,, 1951)j P, 17. 17 18 As the passions become Inordinate they blind the under standing. Like green spectacles* through which every thing appears green, a passion causes man to judge what ever promotes It as good and agreeable to reason, and by exhausting the forces of the soul prevents the apprehen sion from restoring a normal state. The imagination, perverted through physiological changes, presents objects to the intellect with intensity, and the intellect, upon ! looking into the court of imagination, discovers nothing i but the "mother and nurse" of passion.2 ; i Also, in Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Drama, j M. G. Bradbrook observes that there were three major stand-j i ards of characterization which were followed by Renaissance I j dramatists: the superhuman nature of heroes (as described | ! in Chapter I), definition of character by decorum, and the i O i psycho-physical concept of Humours. Therefore Renaissancej protagonists possess a superior nature which is determined j by the principle of "decorum" or appropriateness. In otheri words, each character possesses certain traits which are i appropriate to his social class, age, and sex, In accord with decorum, heroic characters possess the courtly attri- | butes which were described in the popular courtesy books of ! the day. The best known of these works is Baldassare Castiglionexs The Book of the Courtier. Sir Thomas Hoby's translation was published in London in 1561, and it was ^Elizabethan Psychology and Shakespeare's Plays (Iowa City, 1927), University of Iowa Humanistic Studies, III, 4, ; p. 99• I ^ ( C a m b r i d g e , 1935)j p. 54, See also Madeleine Doran, Endeavors of Art: A Study of Form in Elizabethan Drama ^ (Madison, Wis., 1954), pp. 216-256. 19 widely read by Elizabethans. The influence of this book on Renaissance literature has been generally notedj Shakef- speare's characters Hamlet, Beatrice, and Benedict are 4 ! thought to have been inspired by Castiglione's narrative. j Among the traits which Castiglione prescribes for the cour-I i tier are that he should be "a gentleman borne and of a good house,".well educated, attractive to look at, skilled at j arms, courageous, sober, witty, and graceful (pp. 31 ff). i The courtly lady is also included in Castiglione!s analy- ! i sis: like the courtier, she too must be of gentle birth, ; good looking, well educated, modest, and obedient to her 1 father and husband (Book III). Thus the courtly person, inj accord with moral theory, was expected to conduct himself ! in all matters with moderation and reason. j In addition to his outwardly stereotyped traits, the 1 jcharacter in.Renaissance plays often has a conventionally J 'humorous nature which makes him vulnerable to passion. The humours were closely related to the passions, for the .Elizabethans believed that passion was (to use Lawrence Babb's definition) "a muscular expansion or contraction of heart" which can be stimulated by a humorous temperament 1(Elizabethan Malady, p. 12). The humour most characteris tic of the Jacobean protagonists in this study is melan- t 1 4 i See W. B, Drayton Henderson's notes in the introduc tion to Sir Thomas Hoby's translation (London, 1928), pp. ■xiii-xvi. All future page citations will be taken from ithis edition. -- - - ---- — --------- 20 choly. The protagonist may have a naturally melancholy disposition; he may suffer from acute grief caused by some misfortune; or he may experience love or religious melan choly. In each instance,, the protagonist exhibits conven tional symptoms. Lawrence Babb observes that these symptoms., which are : consistent with the Elizabethan psycho-physical theory of ' 5 i melancholy derived from the writings of Galen., were fami- | f liar not only to doctors., but to playwrights who regarded j 6 ! it as a condition which affects both body and mind. It < was the least desirable of the four humours: sanguine., phlegm., choler, and melancholy. An ideal man would have j the humours mingled in his body in exact proportion. How- ■ ever, the constitution of one man usually varies from R ^The Jacobeans’ understanding of melancholy is not ! always consistent with present day medical knowledge, and jthus these characters are not realistic in modern psycho- I logical sense. See BabbJs study of melancholy., pp. 67-72., ;for a discussion of the peculiarities of Elizabethan medi- 1 cal theory. i 6 The Elizabethan Malady., p. 72. Melancholy has long been a topic of scholarly interest. Dr, Timothy Bright and Robert Burton, among others, investigated the topic during the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods. Among twentieth- I century studies of melancholy in Renaissance literature are: Ruth Leila Anderson, Elizabethan Psychology; Q, B. Harri son, Introd. Melancholike Humours by Nicholas Breton (London, 19297! Lilly Bess Campbell, Shakespeare1s Tragic Heroes; Slaves of Passion (Cambridge, 1930)} and Levin Ludwig Schucking, The Baroque Character of the Elizabethan • Tragic Hero (London! 1936). The studies of Lawrence Babb ; and Leila Ruth Anderson will be cited most frequently here because both writers relate their investigation of melan- ,choly to numerous Renaissance literary works. 21 another, and each one may have a surplus of a different hu mour. Of these, sanguine was the most desirable, and melan choly the least. The humours were also linked to physical appearance, of which melancholy was the least attractive (Babb, pp. 9-10). ! I In terms of scientific theory the melancholy humour \ was attributed to the presence of a cold, dry, black, thick, sluggish, semi-exeremental fluid in .the body. Physiologi cally normal persons who possess this fluid in considerable j degree were said to have "natural melancholy," Natural ! melancholy could be increased if the individual were placed under emotional stress. "Pathological melancholy" is an ! abnormal condition which occurs under acute conditions. The symptoms are greatly magnified as the humors are said to be burned at an extraordinary heat (called adustion), i and madness may result (Babb, pp. 22-24). Pathological melancholy is hard to distinguish from •relatively normal temperament. So long as a person is able •to function rationally, his melancholy may be regarded as normal. In contrast, the popular definition of pathological melancholy is "a kinde of dotage without any feuer, hauing 'for his ordinarie companions, feare and sadnes, without any apparent occasion." Hence, If a person becomes so deeply 7 Quoted from Du Laurens, Discourses, pp. 86-87. See ,Babb, p. 38. i 22 involved in his unhappiness that he loses sight of the ra- j I tional or the "occasion," then he may become a victim of j pathological melancholy. The most typical characteristics of both natural and pathological melancholy as understood by the Elizabethans j i were fear and sorrow. Also, the melancholy person may be s i suspicious, jealous, intractable, and stubborn. He may be , silent, or he may speak out suddenly. He is subject to hallucinations, suffers insomnia and, when he sleeps, has j ! bad dreams. He prefers darkness and solitude to daylight | and sociability. He may come to hate mankind and the pleas-j ures of living, and he may even wish for death (Babb, pp. ■ i 26-33)• In general, the melancholy person often becomes | I so absorbed in his own thoughts that he is overwhelmed with! lethargy and cannot act, j The causes of melancholy are umany and varied. Such | matters as improper diet and lack of sleep can cause melan- 'choly. Most frequently, however, melancholy is the result of immoderate passions, such as. grief. Scholars are sus ceptible because they think too much (Babb, pp. 21-24). The cure is very difficult, if not impossible. Doctors !tried bloodletting, phlebotomy, emetic, and other pharma ceutical methods. A diet of cold, moist foods; exposure to warm moist air; mental diversion; gaiety; protection from 'anything which excites the emotions; encounters with sculp-- :ture, friends, etc. are all methods by which melancholy may; be cured. The most successful method, however, Is to re move the cause of grief (Babb, pp. 38-40), Therefore, the Renaissance heroic protagonist who is afflicted with melancholy must strive to rationalize his sorrows and overcome his tendency to inertia so that he can rise to the demands of the occasion and triumph as a hero The protagonist most suited to do this is the character who combines the physiological symptoms derived from the medical theories of Galen with the philosophical nature de rived from the writings of Aristotle, Aristotelian melan choly, a malady ascribed to poets and philosophers, was re garded as a source of genius and inspiration, A character so afflicted possesses keen intellectual imaginative powers as well as the ability to withstand adversity with great self-control. He is therefore a superior character who is able to control by reason his passionate nature, As Law- irence Babb describes these men: i Melancholy endows and distinguishes them with faculties far superior to those of the common man. The melancholic mind enjoys the contemplation of the innermost secrets of nature and the highest truths of heaven . . , [in fact] melancholy men bear the blows of fortune with equa nimity. (p. 63) Another important melancholy character in Renaissance 'literature is the malcontent. He is usually a secondary 'character and1therefore seldom acts as a chief protagonist. He lacks the fortitude of the Aristotelian melancholy pro 1 tagonist and is rarely able to follow reason. The mal- 24 content "broods because he has failed to receive rewards for his talents, and he mocks his unappreciative contempo- 1 i raries. Some malcontents become seditious and are willing | i to act as tool villains for persons of higher rank in an ; effort to overthrow the government. On the whole, the mal-' O content is an unpleasant and often villainous character whom Lawrence Babb describes as "usually black-suited and disheveled, unsociable, asperous, morosely meditative, taciturn yet prone to occasional railing" (p, 75). 1 Another common source of inordinate passion linked to : melancholy with which a Renaissance dramatic character must; often deal is love. The Renaissance concept of love was j various and complex, In general, the same axiom held for love as for melancholy; reasonable love was virtuous; pas sionate love was vicious. The Renaissance concept of love can be described in 'two manners: as a psycho-physical condition (similar to the !Galen concept of melancholy) and as an idealized attitude ■(which parallels Aristotelian melancholy),^ Ruth Leila O Some malcontents are sympathetically conceived, such" as Jacques in As You Like It and Altofronto in Marston's Malcontent, but both of these characters are comic and sa tiric figures, not tragic ones as in the plays under con- 'sideration here, ^The term "love melancholy" was originated by Lawrence Babb, who writes that Elizabethan authors conceived of love melancholy as "a fervid and compulsive passion due to a specific physiological condition, a passion with such deva-_ ■stating effect that it may be considered a disease," The Anderson defines the Renaissance psycho-physical concept of love (which will be called love melancholy) as followst Love, as a violent passion that enthralls one's whole being, is often regarded as a furious evil. Sometimes it is said to proceed from correspondent qualities of the blood or from complexions so constituted as to en- j gender mutual affection,* sometimes it is said to develop when two people have one mind, or when, through astral ! influence, they are constrained to love.. (Elizabethan j Psychology, p. 125) j The physiological effects of love melancholy were i j extraordinary. Love enters the soul (the controlling agent I of the body) by the doors of the senses, most typically the j eyes. It permeates the body, especially the chief organs i 1 of the soul. If contemplation follows, heat is withdrawn ! | to the brain, causing paleness, trembling, and even convul-j sions and death (Anderson, pp. 128-129), J Love may be controlled through the discipline of the mind which leads to a sublimation of passion through the ! [idealization of the beloved. When this is accomplished, i i ;love is no longer ignoble, but reasonable and ennobling. >As Lawrence Babb writes, Love is commonly regarded, then, as an ignoble impulse arising from a physical condition, as a disease of body and mind, as a dangerous threat to virtue and happiness. Unless It is strictly controlled and directed by reason, it is a great evil. This is the view of the psychologist Elizabethan Malady, p. 145, There is another study of love melancholy which deserves mention here: S. Blaine Ewing, Burtonian Melancholy in the Plays of John Ford (Princeton, : 1940), Princeton Series in English, no. 19' . Ewing's defini tion of love melancholy resembles Babb's, but Ewing bases ',his discussion on Burton's Anatomy exclusively. 26 and moralist, In Elizabethan literature one finds another view of love, however, according to which love is a great good, a sweet and ennobling longing of the soul. This view, inherited from the Middle Ages, is the courtly love tradition. (The Elizabethan Malady, p. 15^-) This happier, more philosophical view of love is fre- j quently demonstrated by characters in Elizabethan romantic I comedy and, upon occasion, in 'tragedy also, Typically, the! onset of love occurs spontaneously at first sight. But the; courtly gentleman who falls in love on the instant must ap-! ply reason to his amorous inclinations. He must first as- ■ I certain that the lady is of appropriate social station; j she should not be superior or Inferior to her lover. Nor | should she be a relative, engaged, or married (Babb, p, j 150). The lover now believes that he Is justified In ap- ; | praising the young woman on the basis of her beauty. In accord with the rules of decorum in the courtly tradition, ! a young lady should be attractive. Furthermore, her good |looks are a sign of virtue, a concept which is derived from Plato, Plato and his followers believed that there is a i correspondence between the outer appearance of the body and • v the nature of the soul--that a beautiful body Is a manifes tation of a virtuous soul. Leila Ruth Anderson explains; Followers of Plato believed that beauty of the body is an image not only of the infinite and divine beauty of God but also of the beauty of the soul. Outward excel lence proceeds from the internal bounty or goodness of the mind, just as the lustre of gems springs from a per fect mixture of the four elements, as flowers draw their beauty from roots, or as the countenance of a beast owes Its fairness to a good interior situation, (Elizabethan • Psychology, p. 114) ! 27 In accord with this tradition, Renaissance heroines who are extolled for their beauty generally live up to the idealized virtues which their lovers attribute to them, This variety of love--love based on reason--is the kind of i i love which traditionally formed the basis for Renaissance j marriage, Bassanio's sensible choice of caskets in The ! Merchant of Venice, and Portia's equally sensible recogni- 1 tion of her father's wisdom in appointing such a test for the choice of a mate qualify them both as lovers who prac- ! tice this orthodox and morally sanctioned form of oourt- ship, If love melancholy is not controlled by the protago nist, the opposite occurs. Lovers who do not select appro priate mates in accord with the rules of courtly etiquette, and who surrender to their libidinous passions, violate the moral code, and for them a terrible fate awaits. The resolution of Renaissance drama usually provides some sort of moral instruction by way of reinforcing the themes of vice and virtue of human conduct] in particular, the vice or virtue of the protagonists. As M. C, Brad- brook explains, the plays Elizabethan Psychology, p. 114. Miss Anderson sub stantiates her point of view by giving quotations from Castiglione1s The Courtier and references to Shakespeare's Pericles (Y,i,121-123), Measure for Measure (III.i.184 ff), and Tempest (l,ii.457)j P* 115. 28 had not only a general moral purpose; [but] immediate results were expected. If it did not bring murderers to repentance, convert rakes, induce misers to lean up j against the wall and grow generous., and prostitutes to purge and live cleanly., it was not fulfilling its func- j tion. (Themes and Conventions, pp. 7 5 ~ 7 & ) The Jacobean playwrights worked almost entirely within i the realm of traditions such as the immediate theatrical I I conventions of Renaissance drama, Elizabethan moral theory, I and the broader sphere of established literary genre, But j these dramatists often manipulated traditional material in an individual manner. In the plays now to be examined, the protagonist seems initially to possess the stature of an , I elevated hero but in the course of action he behaves like a j i lesser human being. The moral which their personal trage- ! I dies seems to demonstrate is not so much a triumph of vir- ' i tue over vice as the tragic fact that individual men and j I women are powerless to combat the evil in the world sue- . | cessfully. CHAPTER III ANTONIO'S REVENGE Although John Marston's Antonio's Revenge, the second part of Antonio and Mellida, is chronologically an Eliza bethan drama (since it was first printed in 1602 and may j have been performed by St. Paul's Boys as early as 1 5 9 9 ) j < i the characteristics which point to a declining hero are al.-l i ready in evidence. The protagonist, Antonio, appears to j i be a prototype of a traditionally elevated hero, but he ' i also possesses the irresponsibly, passionate nature of a j lesser man who is at times incapacitated by melancholy and 1 at other times driven by irrational fury. Although he ' finally accomplishes the immediate goal to which he is com- I mitted, he spurns the laurel of a hero because he realizes • that he is impotent against the full force of human evil., and slouches off into exile. As a consequence of these paradoxes, Antonio's stature as a heroic protagonist is placed in doubt, and the value of his accomplishments is dimmed. Antonio's erratic behavior is the result of deliberate , artistic design. The protagonists of Marston's Malcontent 29 30 and Dutch Courtesan (more accomplished works of dramatic art) might also be used to illustrate Marston's concept of the diminished hero, but since one play is a tragi-comedy and the other a comedy, it is difficult to compare them ! I with the other plays in this study, which are basically tragic in nature* Unquestionably, Antonio's Revenge is a . play by an apprentice craftsman, Marston permits inconsis- 1 [ tencies of action and numerous points of confusion, to say j nothing of a starkly melodramatic quality which borders on 1 | absurdity. But the play has good qualities, too, which j make it worth studying,^ There is excitement in the poetryj Scholars are not in agreement in their evaluation of l Marston as a dramatist* They concur that his plays are in-j ferior to Shakespeare's, Most frequently he is criticized . for his erratic dramatic technique and darkly satirical 1 views, and praised for his poetry, T, S, Eliot takes this I view in Essays on Elizabethan Drama (New York, 1932), p, Vy ■ ' 166, Among other scholars who are highly critical of Mars ton are: Henry Wells who finds the plays satirical and mor-: Idant in quality, Elizabethan and Jacobean Playwrights (New .'York, 1939) j P- 2 U ] Robert Ornstein' who calls Marston an : uncouth eccentric whose main weapon is surprise. The Moral . Vision of Jacobean Tragedy (Madison, Wis,, i960), p. 151; •and Frederick Boas who feels that the excessive dramatic 'shock of the play tends to alienate the sympathy of the au dience, An Introduction to Stuart Drama (Oxford, 1946), p. 135. 0 . K. Hunter takes a more sympathetic view by suggest ing that Marston was an experimental dramatist involved in an intellectual inquiry of the human condition, "English .Folly and Italian Vice," Jacobean Theatre: Stratford on Avon Series I, ed, J. R. Brown and Bernard Harris (New York, i960), p. 91. Una Ellis-Fermor and A, Jose Axelrad write !in a similar vein, The Jacobean Theatre (London, 1936), P, 77 and Un Malcontent Elizabethan: John Marston (Paris, ' 1 9 5 5 ) j PP. 4-5• In contrast, Samuel Schoenbaum suggests that Marston was less Interested in an examination of the universal than he was occupied with the particular. "The .Precarious Balance of John Marston," PMLA, LKVU (December , U.1952),. 1065-1078, . Reprinted in Elizabethan Drama: Modern 31 The reader is easily swept along by the mounting pyrotech nics, Even the quality of farce which emerges from the melodramatic action seems deliberate and appropriate, for the play was written for performance by children and, as j Antonio Caputi observes., the gross exaggeration of charac- 1 i ter and action is consistent with the tradition of the j Boy's Theatre,^ ! Most important, the play is provocative because Mars- ! i ton appears to use the character of Antonio to make a seri-I 1 ous comment about the problems of man in an evil world. In, this world of evil, a hero, no matter how courageous, can j achieve at best only a partial victory against his enemies.1 i Marston demonstrates this futile struggle by the repeated i use of paradox. As the following pages will demonstrate, , i paradox is generated when "ideal" or traditional elements are confounded by other elements which might be called i I"real" or contemporary. The result of this fusion is that evil abounds, but the protagonist, a lesser man, is impo- 'tent against the stronger force. To the casual reader, traditional elements appear to dominate the play. Antonio's Revenge is an adaptation of 'an ancient dramatic tradition known as revenge tragedy: a Essays in Criticism, ed, R. J. Kaufman (New York, 1961), p. 124. I ^John Marston, Satirist (Ithaca, N.Y., 1961), p. 153 32 tragic form which has its roots as far back as Greek sto ries of the curse on the family of Atreus, Marston and hisj fellow playwrights became acquainted with revenge tragedy j from the Roman dramatist Seneca. So popular was the vogue I i for revenge plays in the Elizabethan and Jacobean era that : I almost every important playwright tried his hand at it. As a result., some of the plots of these plays are nearly identical and the reader can easily confuse them, The resemblances between the plots of Antonio’s Revenge and ! i Hamlet have been variously noted, and it seems likely that i , j both Shakespeare and Marston may have consulted similar ; o source material. Antonio’s Revenge contains such typically Senecan | I characteristics as the theme of inconstant fortune, the ; portrayal of great crimes with accompanying horrors, and the pleadings for simplicity, poverty, and chastity. Among ithe specific borrowings are: incentive for blood revenge, high passions, ghostly promptings,, delay, dumb-shows, masque, and harsh and terrible punishment which the innocent ^Elmer Edgar Stoll, for example, suggests that Shake speare and Marston may have had access to the same source, or if Shakespeare wrote a version of Hamlet prior to 1600, Marston may have consulted it, "Shakespeare, Marston, and the Malcontent Type," Modern Philology, III (January 1906), 281-303. Tourneur’s Revenger’s Tragedy which is examined in Chapter V of this study is remarkably similar to Mars- ,ton’s Malcontent, 33 4 suffer as well as the guilty. The traditional element is so strong in this play that Fredson Bowers,, an authority on revenge tragedy, places Antonio1s Revenge in the "golden era" of the genre, t a period in which the playwrights (in Bowers' opinion) | worked against the ethical background of their source mate- ! rial and made no attempt to link the plays with the dilem- ■ mas of their own time (Revenge Tragedy, p. 109). ! Tradition, however, is not the sole factor to be con sidered, At the same time that Marston incorporated typi cally Senecan dramatic devices into his play, he molded | characters and situations in hie own manner, so that the play takes on an individual temper. Furthermore, there is ! evidence that Marston's concern was not only with the pro- ; mulgation of universal values, but also with the more imme- j diate investigation of contemporary man's battle with evil, j Antonio's world of evil is not some remote and faerie place, but the immediate locale of sixteenth-century Italy. Eng lish men of Marston's day associated evil--in the form of 4 For a thorough discussion of the Elizabethan modifica tion of Senecan tragedy see Fredson Bowers' Elizabethan Revenge Tragedy (Princeton, 19^0). Bowers considers Anto nio 1 s Revenge on pp. 118-120. Also, John ¥. Cunliffe gives a line by line comparison between Marston's plays and Sen eca's in The Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy • (London, " 1893), pp. 98-105. Another examination of the re venge theme in Elizabethan tragedy can be found in Percy ’Simpson's Studies in Elizabethan Drama (Oxford, 1955)j PP. ,138-178. 3^ political and moral oorruption--with Italy. Many Elizabe thans read and accepted as fact the lurid "histories" of illicit passions and macabre murders which were described in the popular translations of Italian and Erench novellje. Roger Ascham, renowned tutor of Queen Elizabeths advised 6 j fathers of young sons of the dangers of the Grand Tour. 1 Also, no .Englishman could quickly forget that Italy was the home of the hated Pope and degenerate Catholicism. | I Marston is only one of numerous playwrights of the j day who set their dramas in Italy or elsewhere on the Conti4 nent. Scholars can only conjecture as to the reason. But I it is likely that these dramatists used Italy as a mask for: their own philosophical inquiries into the social and po- ! 7 litical life of England itself,1 a mask made essential by the rigid censorship of the Master of the Revels. Whatever i Marston’s intention may have been, the fact remains that Antonio's Revenge is a play set in a world that is at once 'the age-old world of revenge tradition and the corrupt po- .litiqal world of Renaissance society. Parenthetically, the ^For a discussion of the reading habits of the English middle-class see Louis B» Wright's Middle-class Culture in ’ Elizabethan England (North Carolina"^ 1935) ' « ~~ 6 The Scholemaster (1570), ed. Edward Arber (London, 1870), pp. 78 ff. ~ ! y 'See,for example, C, K, Hunter, "English Folly and Italian Vice," p, 98* Another study which deals with Mars- ]ton's concern with contemporary issues is Anthony Gaputi's IJohn Marston, Satirist, 35 protagonist, Antonio, is in part a superior hero of epic and tragic tradition and in part a lesser man of contempo rary society. Marston's preoccupation with the paradoxical fusion of! traditional elements and contemporary observations is first j i I evident in the Prologue to Antonio's Revenge. In accord j with Elizabethan dramatic tradition, the Prologue serves as , 8 a general introduction to the play and sets the tone. In this play, the prologue is particularly significant because : it introduces a sequel, to the earlier romantic tragi-comedy! Antonio and MeHida which ended with the traditional happy reunion of lovers. Now, in this second play, the mood is no longer gay, but somber and forboding. The Prologue j i speaker describes nature, the physical world, in its most perverted aspect. Animals howl, winds roar, and the air is . full of darkness and horror. This is the world in which ! ■Antonio now lives: O As a rule, the prologue is not a major concern in Elizabethan or Jacobean drama. Some plays have no prologue ■at all; some have a brief expository scene or a narrator ;(like Antonio's Revenge) to introduce characters, mood, or theme. Some prologues appear, to have been written by a second hand (as for example the introductory scene to Mars ton's Malcontent which was written by John Webster). Among , the more interesting prologues is Shakespeare's opening :Chorus in Henry V who creates a panoramic view of the set- , ting of the play that extends imaginatively beyond the I famous "wooden 0," 36 j The rawish dank of clumsy winter ramps The fluent summer's vein; and drizzling sleet Chilleth the wan bleak cheek of the numb'd earth. Whilst snarling gusts nibble the juiceless leaves From the nak'd shudd'ring branch, and pills the skin From off the soft and delicate aspects. 0 now, methinks, a sullen tragic scene Would suit the time with pleasing congruence, May we be happy in our weak devoir, ! And all part pleas'd in most wish'd content j — But sweat of Hercules can ne'er beget 1 So blest an issue.9 j Obviously Marston composed these lines to provide a ■ ! transition between the two plays and to inform the audience that this second play, in contrast with the first, will deal with the serious side of life. Further, and more ^ i significantly, the speaker discloses a number of unexpected. I antitheses which indicate the paradoxical nature of the en- 1 suing play. He promises a tragic scene which he thinks "would suit the time with pleasing congruence." He hopes ! I the audience will be happy with his "weak devoir," but concedes that the "sweat of Hercules can ne'er beget / So 'blest an issue," The paradox implied is that not even a ;hero like Hercules can create a happy ending out of life or make a playwright satisfied with his work. Later in the play there are two similar references to Hercules, both in relationship to Antonio, which also have a peculiar empha- . The edition used here is Antonio's Revenge, the Sec- ' ond Fart of Antonio and Mellida, ed. <2. K, Hunter (Lincoln, 1965), Prologue 1-123 Another recent edition of the play :by H. Harvey Wood (Edinburgh, 193^)* contains no line ref erences. | ! 37 sis that seems to suggest a deliberate reversal of meaning. The speaker of the Prologue continues with the sugges tion that all those in the audience who dream idealisti cally of a happy life should depart., for this play is in tended only for those strong-stomached individuals who can | accept the truth about the nature of man. For now, he boasts, he is going to reveal a "common sense" view "of j what men were and are." The picture is frightening: ' i Therefore we proclaim, I If any spirit breathes within this round ; Uncapable of weighty passion (As from his birth being hugged in the arms ! And nuzzled 'twixt the breasts of happiness) j Who winks and shuts his apprehension up ; Prom common sense of what men were, and are, I Who would not know what men must be--let such i Hurry amain from our black-visag'd showsj ! We shall affright their eyes. (12-21) j i The character of Antonio, in accord with Marston’s : i t prefatory statement, is endowed with contrasting qualities.| He has the superior qualities of the traditional hero: I |qualities which are conventionally attributed to revenge I protagonists, Likewise, he has the more realistic traits of a lesser human being. He is, like the conceptual hero, a man of aristocratic birth, the son of a Duke; and he is .engaged to the daughter of another Duke, Consequently, he .might eventually become the future ruler not only of his :native Genoa, but (should the child, Julio, not survive) of ■Venice as well. Following courtly tradition, Antonio has I ;received the careful education that befits a prince’s sons he is skilled at arms and versed in Latin. Everything about his breeding and bearing seems to make him appear to be a prototype of the warrior-king of myth and epic,, and a j I potential Hercules in sixteenth-century society. ! In addition, Antonio has qualities which make him ap- [ pear like other men— men who are not kings or warriors or ^ men of superior ability— and as such he illustrates the : I 1 "common sense of what men were, and are." Prom Marstonrs ! use of the phrase, the "common sense" view of man might j i seem to call for a presentation of Antonio as a sensitive ! human figure. In this respect, the sufferings of the | i heroic protagonists of all great works of dramatic litera- 1 i ture are tragic because they are demonstrations of recog- ; nizable human experience. But at the same time characters | such as Oedipus, Othello and Lear have a certain noble ! elevation of spirit which endows them with heroic stature, ; stature far above that of "common sense" man. Thus, by 1 the use of this term, Marston seems to call for the repre sentation of a man who is, perhaps, a less superior person, Antonio is, as we shall see, a less superior person— although he does not resemble ordinary man as we think of , him today, Antonio is in many ways a stereotype of a tra- l ,ditional heroic avenger whose conventionally derived per sonality is exaggerated in accord with the heightened 'melodramatic touch that characterizes Marston's dramatury. ; He expresses extraordinarily violent emotions, and his mood fluctuates from deep melancholy to high choler. As a j i consequence of his volatile nature Antonio's actions become! i erratic j violent., and irresponsible. Such emotional behav ior tends to diminish his stature because, in terms of Elizabethan moral theory, a virtuous hero must learn to ' I curb his passions with reason, This, Antonio Is unable to do. The passionate element of Antonio's personality which ! undermines his heroic stature is his melancholy mood, a ! ) I psycho-physical condition which, paradoxically, may be J linked both to his traditional heroic pose and his human weakness. Melancholy is a condition often experienced by tragic protagonists, and is especially characteristic of the protagonists In Elizabethan adaptations of revenge drama. Typically, revenge protagonists may or may not have a natural disposition to a predominately melancholy, inature, The melancholy of Antonio, Hamlet, and numerous i iother revenge protagonists appears to be derived from the .Aristotelian concept of the melancholy manj the man who is scholarly, meditative, and seldom cheerful. In Elizabethan revenge dramas, this natural melancholy humour becomes ag gravated by genuinely tragic events (most frequently the sudden death of a father or son), and the protagonist be comes despondent. When the protagonist suspects that the beloved person has been murdered under mysterious and as 40 yet unproved circumstances, his mental agony becomes so in tense that he seems incapable of action. Antonio’s extraordinary capacity for grief is first I demonstrated in the preceding play, Antonio and MeHida, j In the opening speech he confesses that misfortune has al- ; ready reduced him to such abject misery that he is power- ; less to rouse himself. The events have been dire indeed. He believes that his father, Andruggio, has been killed in ; combat with his enemy Piero. He fears for his own life. i i Most calamitous of all, Antonio realizes that he will now j be unable to marry his beloved Mellida, who is Piero’s daughter. Small wonder that he laments, Heart, wilt not break? And thou abhorred life, i Wilt thou still breathe in my enraged blood? j Veins, sinews, arteries, why crack ye not, ; Burst and divuls'd with anguish of my grief? ; Can man by no means creep out of himself And leave the slough of viperous grief behind? I Fortunately for Antonio, his fears prove groundless and he I ■is soon reunited with Mellida, his father, and Piero, The happy moments, however, are of brief duration, and Antonio is soon submerged once more in "the slough of viperous grief." Act I of Antonio’s Revenge opens in typical revenge 'fashion with a disclosure of approaching disaster. The vil lainous Piero, Duke and future father-in-law of Antonio, 10Ed, C, K. Hunter (Lincoln, 1965)j I.i.1-6, 41 boasts that he has just killed Antoniors father and his friend, Felice, and has ordered the body of the latter to be hung in Mellida*s chamber so that she will be disgraced. Although Antonio does not learn of this ghastly trag edy immediately, he is aware of evil pervading the atmos- ' ! phere. He has had a disturbing dream which now sends the heavy black juice of melancholy through his veins. As he i | tells his friends when they attempt to cheer him: Blow hence these sapless jests. I tell you bloods j My spirit’s heavy, and the juice of life Creeps slowly through my stiffen'd arteries. j Last sleep my sense was steep'd in horrid dreams, ' (I.ii.100-103) In this dream (a typical melancholy symptom), Antonio | saw a ghost, resembling his father, who cried out> "Re- i j vengej" (l.ii.llO), The ghost, however, is not the halluc-i I ination which might appear to someone suffering abnormal j jmelancholy, but a dramatic device linked to revenge tradi- jtion. It is the conventional Senecan means of telling the protagonist that a hidden crime has been committed which .must be avenged. Soon Antonio learns of the multiple tragedy, and is plunged into deep despair. He recognizes that Piero is 1 somehow culpable because Piero's conduct in Part I was vil- ;lainous and because the ghost in the dream had warned him .of foul play. Above all, Antonio's great love for Mellida confirms his belief in her chastity, and he therefore re- 1 jects Piero’s imputation of her faithlessness (1,11,264), 42 But Antonio is powerless to take legal action against Piero (since he does not know the circumstances behind the trag edy until Act III), and thus he becomes consumed by melan choly, | In his grief Antonio wallows in lassitude and morbid 1 i depression. He is so verbose about his misery that his | I i friend Galeatzo criticizes him for "hyperbole" (I,ii.l86), j Antonio quotes stoic sayings in Latin, but finds them use- | less because the author felt no grief as intense as his, 1 He insists loudly that no man has greater cause for misery: I have a thing sits here; it is not grief, 'Tis not despair nor the most plague That the most wretched are infected with; But the most grief-full, despairing, wretched, Accursed, miserable --0, . . , (II.ii.13-17) Antonio's suffering becomes so extreme that he is ab- j sorbed with the idea of death, a symptom of advanced melan-• 1 cholia, In his misery he cries out, j j Behold a prostrate wretch laid on his tomb; His epitaph thus: Ne_ plus ultra, Ho! * Let none out-woe me; mine's Herculean woe, (II.ii.132-134) Here again is a paradoxical reference to the traditional hero, Hercules. Hercules, the triumphant hero, learns to :channel his passions to his own purposes, whereas Antonio, 'a lesser man, is swallowed up in his own grief and seems 11 incapable of action. 11 Prom the foregoing discussion, it is apparent that lAntonio has much in common with Hamlet, not only as a re- ■ ^3 All this preamble is typical of revenge tragedy. The playwright deliberately uses dramatic irony in the slow i i awakening of the protagonist to the necessity for revenge., ! and then invents a protracted delay. During this interval ] the hero is constantly thwarted in one way or another be- 1 cause the playwright must invent various methods of postpon- f ing the climax in order to achieve dramatic suspense. The i ! melancholy mood of the protagonist is a primary device 1 1 which Elizabethan and Jacobean dramatists use to effect j this delay because melancholy,, as already demonstrated, in- : hibits the protagonist from action. In terms of Elizabe than moral theory, Antonio's passionate grief (and Hamlet's, v l Hieronimo's, et al.), despite the genuine circumstances ! which have provoked it, represents surrender to the rule of ■ the emotions, rather than conquest by discipline of the jmind. In order to triumph as a Herculean hero in battle jwith an evil adversary, Antonio must triumph against the i 12 !debilitating evil of his own passions. venge protagonist, but also as a victim of melancholy. .Hamlet also makes a comparison between himself and the fa- ■ mous strong man of mythology. He speaks of Claudius as "My father's brother, but no more like my father / Than I to Hercules" (I.ii.152-153)• Antonio, however, is a much more volatile character than Hamlet, He would rather shout his griefs than meditate. Thus Antonio emerges as a dis tinct and individual creation of Marston's, not a crude imitation of Shakespeare's Hamlet, and he therefore de serves individual analysis. i. 12 Antonio (and the revenge protagonists as a group) ;follow a pattern of behavior which is similar in nature to 44 In these early scenes., the paradox of the Herculean hero who Is enervated by human woe Is augmented by a second paradox; Antonio Is overshadowed by another character in I the play. The antagonist, Piero, appears not only to rivalj Antonio in importance, but to excel him in stature. On the| surface he too has the characteristics of the traditional j hero. Piero is a ruling price, the Duke of Venice. Pur- ; thermore, he is the first character to enter upon the stage and in so doing attracts attention in a grotesque and gran- l diose style. The stage directions read: j Enter PIERO, unbraced, his arms bare, smearTd in blood, j a poinard in one hand, bloody, and a torch in the other, | STRQTZO following him with a cordT (p. b ) ' ; He joyfully confesses that he has spent the past two | hours in "a topless mount / Of unpeer*d mischief" (l,i,9~10) + Paradoxically, he claims that he has a legitimate claim for! revenge because Antonio's father married the woman Piero ' ^Achilles', the famous prototype of the melancholy protago nist in classical literature who sulks in his tent for a 'long period of time after a dispute with Agamemnon and re fuses to resume the war with the Trojans. When Achilles' dearest friend Patroculus is killed wearing his armor, the -great warrior is finally roused from his lethargy and prompted to heroic action for which he anticipates eternal .glory. Although Marston and some of the earlier revenge playwrights did not know the Iliad directly in English un- ,til Chapman's translation was printed in 1603, they could have learned of the story from adaptations such as Dictys 'Cretensis (4th cen. A.D.) and Dares Prygius (6th cen. A.D.), : John Lydgate's Troy-Book (l4l2-20), etc. For further dis cussion of this topic see Douglas Bush, Mythology and the Renaissance Tradition in English Poetry, 2nd ed. (New York, 1963) • _ _ 45 loved, and so he plans to "poison the father, butcher the son, and marry the mother" (1*1.105). j Marstonrs treatment of Piero is masterfully ironic be-! cause Piero's every statement, here and later, has the ring of the revenge protagonist who believes himself justified j I in the use of murder for his own purposes, Typical of a j revenge protagonist who is committed to a heroic deed, Piero asserts, "I am great in blood, / Unequal'd in re venge" (i.i.17-18). | i He also claims that he must resort to violence be- j i cause all reason has left the world: j There glow no sparks of reason in the worldj j All are rak'd up in ashy beastliness) j The bulk of man's as dark as Erebus; ! No branch of reason’s light hangs in his trunk; j There lives no reason to keep league withal; | I ha' no reason to be reasonable, (I.ii,222-227) | Such an assertion is reminiscent of Antonio, whose melan choly mood has such a strong effect on his ability to rea- lson, Piero, however, is deliberate and calculating in' his I actions. Passionate he may be, but his passions are care- ’ fully channeled to his program for revenge, Furthermore, ,he insists throughout the play that he is morally committed to right action, and he makes the following affirmative statements: I pursue justice, I love sanctity And an undefiled temple of pure thoughts. (II.I.93-94) l He shall behold me spurn my private good. Piero loves his honour more than's blood. (IV.i.93-94) 46 In his guise as heroic avenger, Piero resembles the arch villain of Senecan drama. Like Atreus, protagonist of Thyestes, he plans his revenge with care, luring his victim into a trap of false friendship. Piero also resembles the Machiavellian villain who had become familiar to the i Elizabethan reading public through Gentillet's interprets- 1 i tion of The Prince (translated into English 1577) and j through, various representations to be found in the transla-; tions of the popular Italian novelle, Furthermore, Piero ! ---- is so utterly corrupt, lacking any redeeming feature, that j he might also be regarded as a personification of evil somewhat like' the allegorical characters of Medieval moral-1 l4 ■ ity plays. In this allegorical frame of reference Anton-. io, as Piero's antagonist, becomes the champion of the J forces of virtue who must rid the community of this monster| Piero. So gigantean is Piero in the opening scenes of the. ^Seneca, "Thyestes," The Complete Roman Drama, ed, George 'Duckworth (New York, 1942). Duckworth "suggests this play is the most influential of all Seneca's work on the Elizabethan Revenge dramatists, II, 751« John Cunliffe agrees, Influence of Seneca, p. 98. The murder and mutila tion of the child, Julio, which takes place later in the iplay seems almost certainly to have been inspired by the cannibalistic feast which Atreus serves his brother Thyes- ! tes. 14 1 Anthony Caputi seems to detect this quality in Piero, 'whom he describes as an example of the deformity which comes from a dedication to false values as well as a force :of evil in the world, Tragic Satire, p. 148. 47 play, with his grotesque appearance and his high plane of villainy, that he almost seems to be the protagonist,"^ Antonio, of course, is clearly intended to be the protago nist. He is established as such in Part I, and is named inj f the title of Part II, Nonetheless, it is a fact that ini- | tially the dramatic emphasis is centered on the overwhelm- j ing figure of the antagonist. Piero is an adversary of ; t such great dimensions that Antonio must have the strength of Hercules in order to defeat him. Endowed though Antonio* is with the qualifications and skills of the traditional ! I hero, he is handicapped by his susceptibility to passion, j particularly melancholy, and the struggle will necessarily j 16 ! be a difficult one for him. j 15 j ^Clarence Boyer claims that Piero is the chief pro tagonist, The Hero as Villain in Elizabethan Tragedy (London, 1914), pp . 133'-135. 1 f) 1 The Atheist's Tragedy by Cyril Tourneur (l6ll) con- :tains a similar combination of an apparently ineffectual :hero, Charlemont, and a super-powerful villain, D'Amville (who is the atheist of the title) The revenge plot pre vails here also, but the avenger, Charlemont, is counseled ^ by the Ghost to "leave revenge unto the King of kings" !(ll.vi,23)--or Divine Providence, Charlemont is a stoical, ,honest character who takes very little aggressive action during the course of the play (although he does go off to ,war in the earlier scenes), When D’Amville, at the conclu- .sion, saves him from an undeserved execution, Charlemont _attributes his good fortune to heaven and adds: "Now I see/ ;That patience is the honest man's revenge" (V,ii,277-278), :The real impetus to revenge is not the fury of the protago nist, Charlemont, but his stoical nobility which so affects ;the antagonist, D'Amville, that he stabs himself in an act ■which he attributes to God, but which might also be judged !a suicide. There may be, perhaps, two ways in which to 'analyze this play: first, as an affirmation of. human virtue; As in most revenge tragedy, the climactic turning point finally occurs in Act Ill.i, The Ghost of Andrugio makes a second appearance to Antonio and explains the pre cise nature of Piero's villainy, Antonio accepts the storyS without hesitation and immediately vows action. As such he! gives every appearance of becoming the traditional heroic j avenger. He knows at last the circumstances behind his j grief; he discards the cloak of melancholy, and he becomes ■ an active protagonist, furthermore, he is justified in i contemplating the murder of Piero because, as Eredson Bowers relates, such a revenge although unsanctioned by | ! legal or religious authority, was prompted by a primitive ! i code which requires a son to avenge his murdered father as ! long as he follows the practice of fair play (Revenge Trag-i edy, p. 40), j Although Marston’s treatment of Antonio's revenge con forms superficially to tradition, paradox becomes apparent once more. Antonio vows heroic action, but his melancholy is not cured, merely transformed from lassitude and inac tion to passion and violence which, in terms of Elizabethan moral theory, violates the rules of reason and exceeds the practice of "fair play." second, as an ironical treatment of the ideal of stoic vir tue. Whichever was Tourneur's intention, the fact of the matter is that the villain emerges as a much more realis tically human and more nearly sympathetic character than the rigid, immobile, stoical hero. 49 Antonio's revenge extends beyond acceptable retalia tion of injury for injury because he engages in what amounts to a rebellion against the society itself. Piero is not an l ordinary individual* a primitive man among primitive men* | but the rightfully appointed political leader of the state i of Venice. By opposing a ruler* even a tyrant* Antonio in- ! itiates a revolt against an established legal authority. The fact that Piero is a criminal who deserves punishment i serves to make Antonio's cause seem just* but regicide* in the minds of the Elizabethans and Jacobeans* no matter how ; 17 justified* was a threat to community stability. In An- , i tonio1s Revenge* Antonio seems unaware of any stigma at tached to the assassination of a ruler* but his act is* nonetheless* one which would not have been tolerated in Marston's own society. Parenthetically* it is of interest to note that in Marston's subsequent play on the same theme* The Malcontent, the hero is able to depose the villain with out bloodshed. Because Antonio's rebellion is not so much against Piero* Duke* as it is against Piero* Evil* he is not easily condemned. However* Antonio* as well as the protagonists There is, as we shall see* a direct statement to this effect in The Revenger's Tragedy, Another reference may be found in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy when Amintor, the outraged husband* refuses to kill the king (a villainous king) and passes the assignment to a .woman. 1 50 in all the plays to he examined here., does instigate a deliberate revolt against authority and, as a consequence for anti-social action, he experiences exile (or spiritual isolation) and victimization. i The first stage in Antonio's search for revenge is i i typical of the dramatic genre; despite his determination toj act, he is forced to delay. No sooner has the ghost de- | ! parted than Antonio goes in search of Pie.ro, He finds | Piero and is about to stab him when, like Hamlet, he sud- j denly hesitates and withdraws his sword. The decision to j spare Piero is another example of the playwright's manipu- j lation of events to prolong the action for dramatic effect,' But the gesture has dual importance because it serves also | as another indication of Antonio's tendency to allow his j emotions to overrule ordinary logic. His hatred for Piero j has become an obsession so deep that he wants Piero to suf- i I ifer acutely, not in some remote hell, but on earth. Anton io requires that his vengeance be deeper and more painful !than simple execution, for he vows, "I'll force him to feed on life / Till he shall loathe it" (III,i,l40-l4l). Subsequently, Antonio's extraordinary obsession leads :him to complete the first part of his revenge in a very .gruesome fashion. He sees Piero's son, Julio, a sweet little boy whom Antonio loves as much as he loves Mellida, and he decides to use him as an instrument to torture i iPiero, Antonio's commitment to this act is so profound 51 that he actually thanks heaven for presenting him with such an ideal opportunity for justice. He hesitates for a mom ent,, but the ghost, in true Senecan manner, calls him to I j i perform the deed--and so he hacks the child to pieces. The| I child's trust in Antonio and his acceptance of torture and ! death intensifies the horror of the scene. The brutal j slaughter of children has occurred in drama before. In Seneca's Thyestes, the revenger's victim is served a supper: of his own children, which is clearly what Antonio has in * ! mind since he saves the body for such a purpose in the last! scene. However, in Senecan drama the butchering of chil- | dren is described by a Nuntius, not portrayed directly on J i the stage as it is here. | t I Such grotesque action by a hero might well alienate i ■j Q sympathy. Yet Marston clearly means to retain sympathy ! for Antonio as the hero. He makes clear in the structure i |of the play that the murder of Julio is not the irrespon- 1sible act of a man crazed by melancholy adust, but the de- 'liberate performance of a man oppressed by grief so acute that he feels obliged to strike out against human evil. Antonio explains that he is bent upon destroying physical corruption by attacking the flesh of the father in the body * 1 ^ Fredson Bowers says that Antonio could have been condemned as a villain for committing such an act for he has exceeded the proper bounds of justified revenge, Eliza bethan Revenge Tragedy, p, 124. : 52 of the son* hut that he will not harm the child's innocent spiriti Me thinks I pace upon the front of Jove, And kick corruption with a scornful heel, Griping this flesh, disdain mortality. 0 that I knew which joint, which side, which limb, | Were father all, and had no mother in't, ! — Gome, pretty, tender child, It is not thee I hate,.not thee I kill. Thy father’s blood that flows within thy veins It is I loathe, is that revenge must suck, 1 love thy soul. , . . (III,i„l6l-l8l) ; Antonio’s slaughter of Julio is, therefore, the second[ step in the revenge-revolt theme of the play. Antonio | comes to regard his enemy, Piero, not only as an individualj i man who has caused him personal injury, but as a manifesta-: ! tion of evil in the world--evil in a Machiavellian head of S state and evil in human flesh which may be transmitted to j others by inheritance. Antonio's rebellion, then, is all- 1 encompassing. However, as previously suggested, any Elizabethan who 1 ■ engaged in a rebellion against the social order, regardless of his justification for such an action, could expect exile and perhaps victimization for unsuccessful efforts. Evi dence in chronicle plays supports this theory, Even if, :like Henry Bolingbroke in Shakespeare's Richard II (1597)* ;the hero is successful in his rebellion, his own sense of I guilt for wrong action lingers in his heart and as an act of contrition, Henry plans a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. 53 In Antonio's case., exile and victimization occur with in the framework of revenge tragedy. After his first ag gressive attack against the figurehead of corrupt civil authority by the murder of Julio, Antonio finds it essen tial to be silent and conceal his future machinations. Al-I though he is not actually exiled until the late scenes of ! i Part II, Antonio is at all times on the periphery of soci- j ! ety, conscious of alienation and isolation caused by his j grief over his father's death, his commitment to revenge, j and his concern for the safety of Mellida, In order to j | plan his vengeance he realizes that it is essential to as sume protective disguise. He adopts the guise of a Pool, ! i which, like Hamlet's insanity, permits him to move freely i and speak openly in a manner that no one will find suspici-j ous. Even his choice of costume contributes to his sense ! of spiritual exile because his mother and friend Alberto castigate him for choosing such unpretentious concealment, i They would prefer a more courtly and presumably more mili tant appearance, for they urge: MARIA. Away with this disguise in any hand.' ALBERTO. Pie, 'tis unsuiting to your elate spirit* (IV,i.1-2) Antonio's defense of the excellence of his choice of costume is met only with scorn, for Alberto assures him, ;"'Twill thwart your plot, disgrace your high resolve" (10). Henceforth Antonio's family and friends remain concerned over his sanity but lack understanding of* his actions. When Piero falsifies evidence that Antonio murdered his own father, the necessity for disguise becomes two-fold and so, to insure his safety, Antonio circulates a story that he has drowned in an attempt to flee. When Mellida hears this news she swoons and soon dies of a broken heart. Absurdly melodramatic as this device may seem, Mellida1s death has an important function in the play because it be comes the ultimate blow to Antonio's melancholy spirit. His emotions now completely overrule his ability to think effectively, and he becomes -a victim of his own passions. In a prayer to heaven Antonio confirms that he will live for one reason only, to avenge her death. Then, dressed like a fool, he acts like a fool, and lies down on the 19 floor in a gesture of death-in-life. The action of the play comes to a total stop at this |point, Antonio-the-hero is totally incapacitated by his 'own melancholy. He would be lying on the floor still, but :for the fact that Pandulpho, stoical father of the murdered :Felice, enters at this moment on the way to the funeral of his son, Pandulpho lays the corpse grandiosely across An tonio^ body and claims that he, Pandulpho, has the great- ■est grief in the world. Like Hamlet, Antonio must be the ■^M. 0. Bradbrook claims that this extreme method of expressing grief was not uncommon for Elizabethan actors, i Themes and Conventions (Cambridge, 1935)j 22. 55 chief mourner so he leaps to his feet to argue the case: 'Slid, sir, ye lie.' by th' heart of grief, thou liest* I scornrt that any wretched should survive, Outmounting me in that superlative. Most miserable, most unmatch'd in woe* Who dare assume that, but Antonio? (iV.ii.77-8l) ! Thus, with a burst of emotional fury, Antonio once j more is roused from melancholy and reaffirms his pledge to ; I revenge. From this moment forward the play clatters on to : i the traditional climax of revenge drama. Antonio is joinedi I by a group of conspirators who urge each other on with I * j cries of "Vindicta." Piero is murdered in grotesque Sene- j can fashion (performed on stage in full view, not left dis-j creetly to the audience's imagination). The villain's j i tongue is amputated, and he is brutally tortured by the i I sight of his child's mutilated body served up on a platter.1 Only then do the revengers, one by one, stab him to death, i The concluding scene of the play reveals a hero and conspirators who are apparently triumphant in revenge. Hot only has the wicked Piero been suitably executed, but the actions of his murderers are applauded by the populace who now recognize the terrible tyranny under which they have i been living and are overjoyed at their release, Antonio's ! stature may have seemed in doubt during the long period in which he hid in semi-exile and wallowed in melancholy, but i now he has been elevated to heroic proportions since his i deed satisfies the requirements of the traditional hero as i interpreted by Elizabethan moral theory. He has killed the' ! i 56 villain, re-established order, and demonstrated a moral, for Piero's death is evidence of a triumph of virtue over evil. However, Antonio, the Herculean hero, does not respond in a manner suitable to his newly exalted position. First j of all, he quibbles with his fellow conspirators over the rewarding of honors, as the following dialogue indicates: i FIRST SENATOR. Whose hand presents this gory spectacle? ! j ANTONIO, Mine. | PANDULPHO, No; mine. I I ALBERTO. Noj mine, j ANTONIO. I will not lose the glory of the deed Were all the tortures of the deepest hell j Fix'd to my limbs, I pierc'd the monster’s \ heart ( With an undaunted hand, ; i PANDULPHO. By yon bright-spangled front of heaven, ! 'twas I; 'Twas I sluic'd out his lifeblood. ALBERTO. Tush, to say truth, 'twas all. (V.iii.116-126)20 ; The argument is settled with official confirmation that An- ! tonio is indeed the superhero, for the new Duke of Florence ■ lauds him, saying: "Thou art another Hercules to us,/ : Riding huge polution from our state" (V.il.129). 20 ; Baldassare Castiglione In The Book of The Courtier 1 admonishes courtly gentlemen to avoid excessive boasting over achievements, trans, by Sir Thomas Hoby (London, 1928), | pp. 38 ff, Antonio's pride seems excessive here. The tra- 1 ditional hero of epic literature was not noted for his mod- • esty. However, the fact that Antonio indulges in such a ! picayune argument does seem absurd rather than meritorious,' Despite the Duke's pronouncement, the final moments of the play do not depict a glorious celebration of Antonio's Herculean achievement, Marston presents instead, as he promised in the Prologue, "a sullen tragic scene." Antonio cannot he joyously reunited with his beloved Mellida since she is dead. In love tragedies, like Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, and Antony and Cleopatra, both lovers die. Antonio survives. His victory, therefore, can hardly be joyous. His melancholy is unrelieved, for now he mourns the added loss of Mellida. Instead of the exultation of the victori ous warrior hero, he exhibits the anquish of the tragic protagonist who discovers that life has turned out badly for him, often as a result of some action or flaw for which he is responsible. Antonio, however, does not express any thoughts of personal responsibility for Mellida's death. Often a tragic hero like Antonio receives a special insight into his misfortune which releases him from the on erous burden of victimization and permits a reconciliation with either the social or cosmic order, Hamlet has the satisfaction of knowing that his revenge is complete and casts his vote for Fortinbras, the man he has admired, to take over and guide the destiny of Denmark. Macbeth recog nizes and accepts the curious irony of fate in the comple tion of the prophecy of his doom. But to Antonio no such comforts are permitted, Even though he, alone of Elizabe 58 21 than tragic heroes, survives the holocaust, his victory is meaningless. The insight which he receives is not an affirmation of order and life, but one of negation, Mel lida, the symbol of virtue, has been destroyed by evil. ! Nothing remains worth the struggle. He moans: Sound doleful tunes, a solemn hymn advance, To close the last act of my vengeance; And when the subject of your passion's spent, Sing "Mellida is dead, n all hearts will relent In sad condolement at that heavy sound, (V,ill,171-175) This pervading sense of despair affects all the con- i spirators who jointly agree to renounce their worldly asso-j ciations and retire to a cloister. Pandulpho explains the | feeling of the little group of revengers thus: We know the world; and did we know no more ' We would not live to know; but since constraint Of holy bands forceth us keep this lodge ! Of dirt's corruption till dread power calls Of soul's appearance, we will live enclos'd In holy verge of some religious order, Most constant votaries. (147-1.53) And so the play ends with the apparent triumph of the hero over the forces of vice, but the hero himself is not 'Satisfied. He decides to renounce the dukedome he has in herited and withdraw totally from a world which he sees permanently deprived of virtue. He becomes, therefore, a ;victim rather than a hero because he finds no relief from 21 I do not know whether there is another tragic hero in a Jacobean play who survives, The scholars, as a whole, :seem to agree that Antonio is the single exception to the Elizabethan tradition that tragic heroes meet with death. See Madeleine Doran, Endeavors of Art (Madison, 1954), •p. llB7 59 his melancholy., and the only reconciliation he can make to life is the acceptance of the common sense truth of how men were, are, and ever will he, j The philosophy behind Antonio's ultimate decision to quit the world is Stoicism. Marston makes innumerable ref-' i erences to this austere philosophy in the play., and desig- ; nates two of the major characters, Pandulpho and Alberto, j i as practicing Stoics. It may be that Marston is experi menting with the concept of Stoicism as a possible solution! i to the problems of men in his contemporary world, just as j Chapman did a little later in Bussy D'Ambois and The Re- | 22 i venge of Bussy D'Ambois. j Although Antonio appears to espouse Stoicism when he j rejects pleasure and seeks a life without emotional in volvement, he has previously been unable to follow stoic j | practices. At all times he has shown himself to be a man j I of irrepressible passion who derives no consolation from 22 In "The Convention of the Stoic Hero as Handled by Marston," The Modern Language Review, XXXIX (October 19^4), 3^0, Michael Higgins observes that Marston, as typical of Jacobean dramatists, used melancholy protagonists to repre- 1 sent man as the last defender of man, the last hero en circled by evil. Therefore, according to Higgins, Marston presents Stoicism as a system of practical values to re- iplace those which had become outmoded, and Antonio's con stancy and resignation contrasts with the corrupt world of men. Antonio Caputi, however, stresses the fact that Anto nio differs from the usual Stole, He is a serious youth !sickened by the spectacle of evil in the world who tries to combat it with stoic attitudes, but is unable to carry out his own philosophy, Tragic Satire, p. 155- 6o stoical philosophy. He frequently criticizes his stoic i friends Pandulpho and Alberto for their passive attitudes to sorrow and condemns their incessant demands for patience! Ultimately these friends abandon their stoical attitudes j and Join Antonio in revenge* an act which indicates their j i resistance to the pervasive power of evil* rather than ac ceptance of it. Even the trio's final decision to retire j to a life of solitude rather than commit suicide to avoid j corruption (as Clermont D'Ambois does)* is not really Sto ical commitment as much as it is a gesture by which Antonio' i attempts to avoid evil by hiding from it. And thus* Anto- . nio1s decision to retire from the corrupt world completes the diminution of his stature. The aura of the superhero ! which once surrounded him has now faded from view.^ ! Paradox* therefore* clouds Antonio's stature. He ap- ; pears to be a truly successful hero* but he emerges as a protagonist who is less majestic than his deed of valor j seems to forecast. Like the traditional hero* he is ele- ^The fact that Antonio's stature is diminished at the end of the play has been observed by previous students of the play. Caputi* for example* writes that Antonio cannot be a tragic figure because a stoical* rational* virtuous 1 man cannot fail to regulate his emotions* and if he does* ■ ' as Antonio does* it is because he has lost control through weakness* Tragic Satire* p. 155. R. F, Foakes sees diminu tion occurring as a result of Marston's deliberate use of parody in such matters as the colossal gestures of Piero and the super-melancholy ravings of Antonio* "John Mars- * ton's Fantastical Plays: Antonio and Mellida and Antonio's Revenge*" Philological Quarterly* XLI (January 19&2)* 23b, , 61 vated by birth and rank., and he achieves his goal of venge ance by direct and ruthless means. If his butchering seems excessive to twentieth-century tastes, it is not much i i bloodier than exploits of heroes in classical epic and I tragedy--with the single qualification that Antoniors deeds, are performed in public view. However, he fails to func tion as a traditional hero in the area of human emotions. ; "Hyperbole" is the key to his personality, He is unable to maintain rational control over his melancholy, and lapses1 into despair at a time when he should be readying his swordj He is stimulated to action only after severe prodding, and j his actions are impulsive and violent in the extreme. Aft- 1 er his victory, he becomes melancholy once more because the toll in human suffering in unbearable. No philosophy can relieve his anguish, In contrast to a triumphant hero, Antonio acts like a lesser human being who is caught in a bewildering world and is overwhelmed with a sense of the !futility of any endeavor by a single Individual, even a ■Hercules, As previously noted, Hamlet also possesses many of the characteristics of the vanishing hero, if for no other rea son than the fact that the two plays have the same plot ,structure. Among the signs of a less than epic hero are the following: Hamlet is not a king or clearly destined to ■become one. He Is subject to melancholy and he contemplates ;his misery in numerous soliloquies. He engages in a rebel- : 62 lion against the king and as a result is exiled and victim ized, He mishandles his revenge by delay,, mistaken murder, and last minute action. At the conclusion so few persons \ survive that a new king must be imported. Hamlet makes no j I I victory speeches,, nor does he reveal any new insights. , I Despite the repeated similarities, Hamlet does differ ! i from Antonio. Hamlet, although no Hercules, still retains ; many heroic characteristics which Antonio does not possess, j i Hamlet’s political rank is higher than Antonio's for he is j f the son of a king rather than of a Duke. Also, Hamlet pos- ; sesses courtly graces to a more marked degree than Antonio i as he is a former university student and a renowned swords- I r j man.. Hamlet is melancholy by nature and circumstance, for j he too grieves over his father’s death, but Hamlet is never I i incapacitated by violent emotion as is Antonio. . He never lies down on the floor or chops up little children. Fur thermore, Hamlet’s incentive to revenge is more justified 'than Antonio's, for not only has his uncle murdered his i .father, but Claudius has also usurped the throne illegally. With use of good reason, not impulse, Hamlet demands posi tive proof of murder and does not blindly accept the word pf the Ghost because he is mindful of the superstition that ;a ghost may be the Devil, When Hamlet’s trap succeeds and ihe is confident of Claudius’ guilt, he proceeds as directly : as possible to execute his revenge. He gives a logical ex planation of his reluctance to stab Claudius at prayer as j 63 he fears that Claudius would then go to heaven. All of Hamlet’s actions (unlike Antonio’s) seem logically planned. He does not allow his emotions to impede him., nor does he allow them to lead him to excessive violence. The murder I j of Polonious is not as irrational as it might seem, for j Hamlet would hardly expect to find anyone other than his j enemy, the king, hidden in his wife’s closet. When Hamlet \ I I learns of Ophelia’s death he does not lie down in his grave.,- but. leaps into Ophelia's, thereby jeopardizing his own i safety in a gallant heroic gesture. j i Many of the qualitative differences between the charac-j ters of Hamlet and Antonio can be attributed to the rela- i tive skills of the playwrights. Shakespeare creates a dy- 1 i namic character, whereas Marston creates a protagonist who { verges on becoming a melodramatic buffoon. In each case, ! however, the playwrights seem to suggest that the task of i |the hero in serious drama is not so simple as it is in the ■imaginative world of romance and epic, Hamlet dies after apparent triumph. Order seems restored. Antonio, however, faces a deeper truth— evil is immanent in the world and no hero can obliterate it, I CHAPTER IV BUSSY D'AMBOlS In the tragedy of Bussy D'Ambois by George Chapman j I (l6o4), an apparently gigantean protagonist, who is in fact1 an Impecunious man of low social rank, makes a lofty pledge to purge corruption by honest actions, but commits murder , and adultery, is killed for his misconduct and, In spite of j everything, he is eulogized for his heroism, ! Once more, as in Antonio's Revenge, the protagonist is i characterized by the repeated use of paradox. In the case of Bussy D'Ambois, paradox occurs as a result of the incon- ■ gruous mixture of literary tradition with more realistic i elements of contemporary life, Bussy seems to be a proto- ' type of a Graeco-Roman warrior hero who enters a seven- Iteenth-century French court. In this environment he be haves at times in the manner expected of a traditional classical hero who is dedicated to scourging of evil forces, but at other times he seems more like a lesser human being who sets his sights on personal fulfillment. As a result of this complex interweaving of contradictory elements, Bussy emerges as a dualistic figure: a champion of virtue ■who is crushed by fate, and a human being vulnerable to 64 65 passion who is punished for vice. His stature as a hero is dependent upon the reconciliation of these two conflict ing views, and because no' such reconciliation is made Bussy, like Antonio, becomes a dubious hero, a protagonist ; whose genuine prowess is clouded by the uncertain merit of his deeds. This play, the best of Chapman's work, is most admir able for the treatment of the character of Bussy. For it is Bussy himself, at once an idealized hero and an absurd I interloper, who serves to make the play interesting and j i worth study.. Bussy1 s ambiguous nature is so complex that j Chapman almost certainly worked with deliberate care to ! achieve a delicate balance of opposing qualities. Althoughj t some contemporary scholars deplore Chapman's dramaturgy, others praise him as a dramatist and observe that Chapman's; i enigmatic hero is an indication of his insight into the 2 'human condition.. However, most critics agree that the i I I 1 : T, B. Tomlinson calls Chapman a "decadent" playwright, because he writes as an imitator rather than a creator, . Tomlinson also condemns Chapman for stiff style, sentimen tal thought, and moral confusion, A Study of Elizabethan and Jacobean Tragedy, (Cambridge, 1964), pp.. 256-261, How ever, in the introduction his edition of the play, Nicholas Brooke calls Chapman a serious artist of unquestioned tal ent who struggles to give an image of the quality of human | life, although Brooke is forced to admit that Chapman did not bring all the complexities of his thought into clear focus, Bussy D'Ambois (London, 1964), pp. xix-xxvii. Another recent editor, Thomas Parc Parrott, describes the play as Chapman's masterpiece in tragedy and praises the skillful handling of the structure which, Parrott feels, : combines much of the form of Senecan closet drama with a long and sometimes obscure philosophical speeches and oc casional confusion of action present difficulties in analy- \ sis of Bussy *s character . Chapman constructs the character of Bussy by the pre sentation of numerous paradoxes which originate from the i curious blending of traditional literary concepts with con- 1 temporary observations. In Bussy D'Ambois Chapman incor porates material reminiscent of Greek epic,, Italianate no- vellej Senecan revenge tragedy,, as well as threads picked j ! up from medieval de casibus tragedy and morality plays. In addition., he apparently utilized a recent historical j I source and his own creative imagination. J In accord with dramatic conventions of the seventeenth- century, Bussy seems to have been contrived to fit the idea] I of "decorum" or appropriateness of a heroic protagonist. However, the first paradox becomes apparent in the dichot omy between Bussyrs antecedents who vary from traditional |literary types to more realistic historical figures. Pri- i ■marily, Bussy exhibits the larger-than-life characteristics of the ancient Greek warrior heroes and their counterparts inew sense of realism and vigorous life, Introd,, The Plays 'of George Chapman, The Tragedies (New York, 196!)^ II, 540 .Volume I of this edition is used for the line citations in cluded in this study, Bussy D'Ambois has been honored with another recent edition (Lincoln, Nebr., 1964). The editor, Robert Lordi, defends Chapman from the often repeated charge of obscurity with the assertion that the poetry is difficult to interpret because it is written to show the 'mind in action rather than logical conversation, Introd., ■ pp.. xxi-xxii. ________________ __ ____ 6 7 in later Senecan drama. Chapman,, of course, is best known for his translation of Homer’s Iliad, completed just prior to the composition of Bussy D’Ambois, and it is therefore not surprising that the play contains numerous parallels with Greek epic literature.. Bussy has certain affinities with the great Achilles, especially in his addiction to melancholy (which will be discussed in the' next section). i Another classical hero to whom Bussy is often compared is ! j the demi-god Hercules because both heroes undertake seem- ; ingly impossible l a b o r s . ^ Also, Bussy is specifically j ! linked to Hercules in the text (V.iv,l48), Thus, from the j suggestions of classical antiquity found in the play, Bussy acquires an aura of the ideal super-human prowess of the traditional hero. He seems to be a man above men, superior : in all respects, a warrior of truly noble bearing. 2 Although there is no specific reference to Achilles in the text of the play, the resemblance has been noted by Eugene Waith who finds both protagonists "perturbed," The Herculean Hero (New York, 1962), p. 109j and Elias Schwartz who observes that they have similar characteristics. They both possess arete [a primitive inborn heroic valor linked with strength], are distinguished soldiers, are subject to wrath, choose a brief heroic life, and come from similar social worlds, "Seneca, Homer, and Ohapman1s Bussy- D'Ambois," The Journal of English and Germanic Philology, IXI (1957) , 172. Eor further discussion see Ennis Rees, The Tragedies of George Qhapman (Cambridge, Mass., 1954), !p. 30. ^Roy Battenhouse likens Bussy1 s pursuit of virtue to a Herculean scourge of the court, "Chapman and the Nature of Man," ELH, XII (June 1945), 87-107. Reprinted in Elizabe- 'than Drama, ed, R. J. Kaufmann (New York, 1961), p7 142. ;Eugene Waith makes a similar comparison in The Herculean (Hero, p. .90. . . . . . . . . . ; ______ __________ 68 I i Bussy13 sixteenth-century antecedent's, however, pro vide clues to the alternate side of his personality. Schol-r ars often note Bussy1s resemblance to Marlowe's Herculean i Tamburlaine, a man of ignoble birth who rises from petty thief to world emperor. Eugene Waith., who deals at length with the comparison, observes that there is also a signifi- , cant difference between the characters, for Bussy., he finds,' acts less like a god and more like a human being (The Hercu- lean Hero p. 90) . I More significantly, Chapman bases the character of ; Bussy on an actual person who figured in contemporary 1 Prench history, the wealthy nobleman Louis de Clermont, Bussy d'Ambois, born in 15^-9j who was assassinated in 1579 ; by an irate husband who discovered that his wife had en- 4 joyed Bussy1s amorous embraces. Hence, as a prototype of a known historical figure, Bussy's stature remains elevated | ibut becomes considerably less distinguished than his semi divine ancestors Hercules, Achilles, and even Tamburlaine, In his adaptation of history, however, Chapman made some interesting changes.. Not only does he reduce Bussy1 s 4 No literary source has been discovered for Bussy ,D 1Ambois, but Chapman could have relied entirely on histor ical material.. Chapman's later tragedies show a consider able amount of original interpretation of historical mate- •rial and such is probably the case here, However, we can not be absolutely certain whether these changes were delib erately made by Chapman or derived from some undiscovered ; text. 69 social station., but he renders him as- an individual with no political importance. Chapman introduces Bussy as a dis— I j gruntled, impoverished man of questionable breeding. He j is* according to the Duke of Guise, "not nobly born, / But | bastard to the Cardinal of Ambois" (ill.ii.78-79). Bussy . i denies this accusation, but the mere suggestion of bastardy’ has a debasing effect. Greek heroes, of course, were fre quently bastards, but their illegitimacy caused them no inconvenience because one of their parents was usually a i god from whom they inherited great powers, (Hercules was ' I the son of Zeus, and Achilles was the son of the sea god dess, Thetis.) However, bastardy, as in Bussy's case, could be a distinct liability to a Jacobean. Consider, for' I example, Edmund's predicament in King Lear and Don John's ! in Much Ado, Both were illegitimate offspring, rejected i by their sires, who resorted to villainy to gain their own ends. Furthermore, Bussy's extreme poverty is another fac- ;tor which serves to lower him in the social-political struc- .ture of his community. Chapman may have deliberately al- Itered the historical background of Bussy D'Ambois in an ef fort to make him seem more like his Greek prototypes. But, in fact, these changes from legitimacy and wealth to bas- ;tardy and poverty also serve to make him seem more realis tically human, more humble than divine. The third source of the dichotomy in Bussy's stature ‘may be linked to Chapman's interpolation of character types 1 70 drawn from medieval drama.. Bussy has an aura about him which seems reminiscent of the allegorical figure of Virtue in the morality plays., for he is, as we shall see, resolute in his insistence upon virtuous conduct. Also, he seems to possess the bearing of an Everyman character. He too is a j | man of relatively humble origin who is concerned with the ; problem of sin. However, Chapman’s interpretation of the | morality protagonist is unorthodox. Bussy is, in fact, an 1 l Everyman created by Chapman's unique imagination. As I Edmund Muir observes in "’Royal Man'j Notes on the Trage- ; dies of Chapman," Bussy is not of this world, but a man in-' spired by Chapman's philosophical ideal of man in his orig-j 6 i inal state of virtue. To Chapman, Bussy is an especially conceived child of nature whose nobility is not of divine ! or aristocratic breeding, but an intrinsic quality of his j i own human self. As Bussy explains, in an argument with ] i Monsieur, that he, Bussy, is superior to the titled Duke of Guise; -fHenry Hitch Adams, in English Domestic Tragedy Or; Horn! lie tic Tragedy 1575-'l640 (New York, 194'3), P* 54, ex plains that although Everyman was rich, he was still every- man, king or beggar, Gradually, Adams writes, the abstract ■vices and virtues of later plays assumed the characteris tics of men and women of the middle class, ^Essays on Literature and Society (London, 19^9)j PP* 20-30, Reprinted in Shakespeare's Contemporaries, ed. Max Bluestone and Norman Rabkin (Englewood Cliffs, NTJ,, 1961), p. 236. This book contains a comprehensive bibliography of jrecent Chapman scholarship, pp. 237^238, Mons. He 1s the better man, Bus. And, therefore, may do worst? Mons, He has more titles, Bus. So Hydra had more heads, Mons. He!s greater known. Bus. His greatness is the people’s; mine's mine own* Mons, He's nobl[ier] born. Bus, He is not; 1 am noble. And noblesse in his blood hath no gradation., : But in his merit, (111,11.72-78) I i Chapman's notion that Bussy is a child of nature is constantly emphasized by the recurrent image of a tree blown in the wind, According to Chapman., the tree is man I and the wind is the condition in which man finds himself. i | Bussy's tree, however, is not made of the same stuff as ^ other men's which are hollow and through which the wind , i passes, Bussy, because of his determined attitude in the j pursuit of virtue, is solid. He is, as Monsieur describes j him, i t . . , a tree solid (since it gives no way To their wild rage) they rend up by the root: So this whole. man (That will not wind with every crooked way, Trod by the servile world) shall reel and fall Before the frantic puffs of blind-born chance, That pipes through empty men, and makes them dance, (T.11,39-45) This image of the solid tree in danger of uprooting :leads to the second paradox in the characterization of |Bussy D'Ambois, Not only is he a prototype of a semi- |divine classical hero and a natural human being, but also he is at once a representation of the virtuous man and the 'man of passion, Although Bussy does not "wind with every crooked way," but remains an advocate of virtue, he none- 72 theless reveals his susceptibility to passion,, a trait which Elizabethan pedagogy considered to be a dangerous step to- i i ward vice, i i Those scholars who wish to reconcile Bussy*s passion to his virtue argue that Chapman modelled Bussy after a broader and distinctly different concept of virtue than the; narrow Christian view* The actual derivation of ''virtue” j is the Latin word meaning manly strength and courage. In j I The Herculean Hero, Eugene Waith describes the vigorous i classical protagonists' who,, like Bussy., make striking de- ! J partures from the morality of the society in which they j live, but whose extraordinary conduct does not detract from their greatness because it is an emanation of virtu or| divine energy (p. 16). Certainly anyone familiar with the i labors of Hercules can recognize that Hercules follows a law of his own in his use of ruthless violence and passion, i IBussy may therefore be an incarnation of this pagan concept 'Of virtue which, as Parrott and Ball describe it, "embodies 7 ithe sum of all bodily excellencies," The virtue-passion dichotomy cannot be explained en tirely on the basis of ChapmanTs reliance on classical |sources as it may also be derived from a study of human na- Short View of Elizabethan Drama (New York, 1943)> ■p, 102, See also Hiram Haydn, The Counter-Renaissance i(New York, 1950), pp. 492-497 for a discussion of Chapman *s idebt to the classics for Bussy’s expression of a natural 'law of reason. 73 i ture, is subject to strong emotion which he expresses in p terms of melancholy, violent anger, and sexual ardor. Therefore., the character of Bussy D’Ambois is composed I of elements drawn from many sources, a welding together of I the heterogeneous influence of Chapman's reading and life I experiences. Bussy is the classical hero who aspires to , be the Herculean scourge, the cleanser of the Augean sta- j bles. He is the common man of pure heart and honest feel- j ings. He is also a natural man (although somewhat ab- j I stracted) who knows the call of passion. All of these at- ' ! tributes combine to make him a paradoxical character whose | pursuit of virtuous action becomes confused in a conflict | between his aspirations and his deeds. ! i Chapman uses a curious technique to reinforce his para-4 doxical conception of Bussy1s character. He has arranged ! the dialogue of various characters in the play in such a manner as to show a balance of favorable and unfavorable : attitudes toward Bussy, Bussy is lauded by his admirers as a man of great spirit and denounced by his enemies as an 8 Robert Ornstein suggests that Chapman may have em bodied in Bussy the traditional concept of natural goodness which is manifest in the ideal of freedom and equality long cherished by Britons. The Moral Vision of .Jacobean Tragedy (Madison, Wis,, i960), pp. 52-53. Hardin Craig links Bussy’s inability to control the attraction of passion over reason to psychological determinism, and he observes that .Chapman recognized "the irresistibility and validity of ’ passion" earlier than many writers, "Ethics in the Jacobe an Drama: The Case of Chapman," Essays in Dramatic Litera- ■ turei The Parrott Presentation Volume, ed. Hardin Craig [(Princeton, 1935)^ p. 32, _____ ______ arrogant upstart. From this combination of extravagant eulogy and scurrilous condemnation Bussy's stature seems to acquire heroic proportions. The irony., however, is the fact that both camps are actually expressing the truth about Bussy. Hence, Chapman presents two attitudes toward j his protagonist which are equally valid, but diametrically ! i opposed. j Sample quotations which follow have been selected at ' I random, but kept in order so that the precise balance be- * i tween praise and condemnation of the protagonist is clearly j expressed. The bias of the speaker has been added to as- j I sist the reader: ' Monsieur [Pro] A man of spirit beyond the reach of j fear, . . , (l,i,46) J Duchess of Guise [Anti] [He is] blunt [and] much guilty of the bold extremity, (I,11.78,85) 1 Monsieur [Pro] His great heart will now down, 'tis like the sea. That partly by his own internal heart, Partly the stars1 daily and nightly motion. Their heat and light, and partly of the place The divers frames, but chiefly by the moon, Bristled with surges, never will be won, (No, not when th1 hearts of all. those powers are burst) To make retreat into his settled home, Till he be crown'd with his own quiet foam. (1,11,156-165) Barrisor [Anti] Why here’s the lion, scared with the throat of a dunghill cock,- a fellow that has newly shaked off his shackles: now does he crow for that victory. (I,ii,168-170) L'Anou [Anti] And why not? As well as the ass, stalking in the lion's cage, bare himself like a lion, braying all the huger beasts out of the forest? (I.ii,l80-l8l) 75 Brisac [Pro] , , , he's a gentleman as good as the proudest of you. , , , (I,11.220) Nuntlus [Pro] And see the bravest man the French j earth bears. (II.1.137) Montsurry [Anti ] , . . see great D'Ambois (Fortune's proud mushroom shot up In a night) Stand like an Atlas under our King's arm. . . . ; (III.ii.116-118) | King Henry [Pro] j . . . A man so good, that only would uphold ; Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall | All our dissensions risej that in himself (Without the outward patches of our frailty, i Riches and honour) knows he comprehends j Worth with the greatest: kings had never borne j Such boundless empire over other men, : Had all maintain'd the spirit and state of D'AmboiSj | Nor had the full impartial hand of Nature ; That all things gave in her original, ; Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine, I Been turn'd unjustly to the hand of Fortune, j Had all preserv'd her in her prime, like D'Ambois; * No envy, no disjunction had dissolv'd, Or pluck'd one stick out of the golden faggot ; In which the world of Saturn bound our lives, Had all been held together with the nerves, The genius, and th' ingenuous soul of D'Ambois. (III,ii ,.90-107) Chapman also employs paradox in his treatment of other characters, although to a much lesser degree. Often a char acter seems initially to possess a sympathetic nature, but sooner or later he exposes a less noble side of his person ality. Monsieur affirms his loyalty to the King and his Igenuine admiration for Bussy (l.i), but later reveals his 'disloyalty to both through envy of their friendship ;(III.ii), Ta.myra avows her devotion to her husband, Mont- surry, but accepts Bussy as a lover with alacrity (Il.ii), The Friar is also an enigma, for he appears to be a kindly and sympathetic cleric, but acts as a willing go-between for the illicit lovers. The paradox surrounding these minor figures gives weight to the theory that the entire j I play is deliberately set in irony. Certainly none of their i behavior can be explained by the classical idea of virtu. j They are ambiguous by design and serve as dramatic foils ; for the paradoxical protagonist, Bussy. | Chapman's interest in the paradoxical nature of the j hero becomes apparent in the first scene of the play. In an opening soliloquy, Bussy comments on "great men," fa- i vored by the whim of fortune, who possess the "heroic form" j i of "colossic statues" which are nothing but metal and stone.; These "great men" are the men of "policy," as Bussy often j I calls them. They are members of the sixteenth-century French court who follow the villainous Machiavellian pre cept of expediency which Bussy condemns. Because their .grandeur is entirely artificial, they are Incapable of he- i 'roic action and, in a crisis, must turn to the "humble fisherman" who, despite his simple and unsophisticated man ner, knows his craft and can make a heroic rescue: 77 Fortune, not Reason, rules the state of things, Reward goes backwards, Honour on his head; Who Is not poor, Is monstrous; only Need Gives form and worth to every human seed. As cedars beaten with continual storms, So great men flourish; and do imitate Unskilful statuaries, who suppose. In forming a Colossus, if they make him Straddle enough, strut, and look big, and gape, j Their work is goodly; so men merely great ! In their affected gravity of voice, I Sourness of countenance, manners' cruelty, Authority, wealth, and all the spawn of Fortune, | Think they bear all thevkingdom's worth before them; i Yet differ not from those colossio statues, Which, with heroic forms without o'er-spead, Within are nought but mortar, flint, and lead, Man is a torch borne in the wind; a dream But of a shadow, summ'd with all his substance; j And as great seamen, using all their wealth And skills in Neptune's deep invisible paths, ; In tall ships richly built and ribb'd with brass, | To put a girdle round about the world, ; When they have done it, coming near their haven, j Are fain to give a warning-piece, and call j A poor, staid fisherman, that never pass'd j His country's sight, to waft and guide them in, 1 (l.i.l-27) | And so, Bussy moralizes, any person who succumbs to i the lure of wealth and glory must ultimately turn to Virtue ■ 'which, like the humble fisherman, can pilot men caught in 'the storms of life to safe harbor. For, . . . when we wander furthest through the waves Of glassy Glory, and the gulf of State, Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches, As if each private arm would sphere the earth, We must to Virtue for her guide resort, Or we will shipwrack in our safest port. (28-33) As he speaks, Bussy sits, alone and humbly garbed, in a :green wood where he has retired to escape the corrupt prac- tices of the great men.. In such a guise, Bussy would seem 78 to be a prototype of the hero he has just described, the lowly man who guides his countrymen to safety by means of i his virtue. Paradoxically., however. In the course of ' events Bussy assumes a role which Is almost totally oppo site to his initial projection. He soon abandons his humble garb and, richly dressed, rejoins the society of great men | i which he has just condemned. He thus assumes "heroic form" , S and thereby is in danger of losing "Virtue" as his guide. After which, according to his own prophesy "shipwrack" I will follow. j Bussy*s pessimistic comments on the state of world af-j l fairs are manifestations of his melancholy mood, a factor ‘ (as in the case of Antonio) which tends to undermine his ; heroic stature because it impedes his ability to act. Prom^ the philosophical orientation of his remarks, Bussy (like ! Antonio), appears to resemble the Aristotelian concept of , the melancholy man, a person whose wit reveals superior in- ‘telligence and sensitivity, and whose moderate disposition may result in genius and poetic inspiration. Despite the i apparent sincerity of his soliloquy, however, Bussy*s dis content may not be entirely the product of his intellec tual! zed observations of the unfortunate affairs of men. |He may also suffer the frustrated emotions of the malcon tent type who laments his failure to achieve favor at court, !This is certainly the opinion of Monsieur (brother of the jking) who seeks out Bussy in the green wood with the hope 79 i of enlisting him in his service. Monsieur confides: I follow'd D'Ambois to this green retreat,, A man of spirit beyond the reach of fear, Who (discontent with his neglected worth) > Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes; j But he is young and haughty, apt to take j Eire at advancement, to bear state, and flourish. 1 (45-50) Lawrence Babb suggests that Monsieur came on this er rand because he believed that Bussy was so angered by his i I disfavor at court that he would be willing to join in a i I seditious plot against the king, for malcontents are notor- q ! iously useful as tool villains. Babb's idea may be valid | because the question of regicide comes up later in the i play, but there is insufficient evidence to prove that ' Chapman intended to present either Bussy or Monsieur as ; i villainous conspirators. Monsieur is a difficult character; because Chapman does not always make clear on whose side he stands. He is certainly one of the "politic" men, but I |in the earlier half of the play he seems to be one of Bus- ;sy's staunchest supporters, and he never openly proposes sedition. There seems every reason to believe him when he 10 confesses in a soliloquy: ^The Elizabethan Malady (East Lansing, Mich., 1951), p. 87. ■^For a discussion of the straightforward speech of Chapman's characters see M, C. Bradbrook, Themes and Con tentions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge") 1935), P* 130. 80 There's but a thread, betwixt me and a crown, I would not wish it cut, unless by nature] Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune, 'Tis good to get resolved spirits about me. (41-44) Monsieur's tactics to rouse Bussy from his despondency j are direct, He begins vigorously with "Up, man; the Sun shines on thee" (1,1,55.)* When Bussy refuses to respond, J i Monsier lectures him with tales of classical heroes who ! J i would not have performed glorious deeds had they lived in j retirement, and he concludes with a moral that Bussy cannot! i dispute s . * , our lives In acts exemplary not only win : Ourselves good names, but do to others give ! Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live, (78-81) Bussy hesitates momentarily, but then resumes his at- : I tack on policy. Monsieur applauds the accuracy of Bussy's ' I I observation and urges that he put his knowledge of "policy"’ ;to practice to his own advantage (105), Suddenly Bussy*s ;protest ceases, an example of the abrupt change of mood :that is typical of the malcontent. He admits that he would be willing to go to court with Monsieur if it were not for his threadbare suit I Monsieur promises to send an appro priate outfit and departs. Left alone, Bussy contemplates his new situation with enthusiasm. He seems cured of his melancholy and resolute ' in his decision to utilize the techniques of "policy" to ^combat the politicians. By joining Monsieur at court, Bussy imagines he will have the opportunity to act as an | exemplum of virtue and to purge the corruption he despises.! However, his heroic affirmation contains the shadow of the j malcontent, for he cannot conceal a note of displeasure ; i over his previous neglect at court. He vows: I am for honest actions, not for great: ! If I may bring up a new fashion, ; And rise in Court for virtue, speed his plow! The King hath known me long as well as he, ; Yet could my fortune never fit the length ; Of both their understanding till this hour. ; (128-133) ; The melancholia which Bussy suffers in this first scene disappears as soon as he resolves to re-enter the ! court, and he is no longer reluctant to take action. Bus sy rs stature suddenly assumes potentially heroic propor tions for he now undertakes the role of the champion of vir tue in a corrupt society. At the same time, Bussy remains an ambiguous protagonist because he retains the character- ; 'istics of a lesser man who responds to passion rather than !reason. Like Antonio, he possesses certain melancholy 1 traits which are reflected in his subsequent erratic con duct. Bussy is always sad and solitary. He suffers abrupt changes of mood. He is suspicious of the intentions of other men. He is frank, witty, even rude, in his conversa tions with the king and courtiers. He prefers the night and moonlight to the brightness of the day, and he expresses ‘great interest in evoking occult spirits. Above all, he is ,a man of violent and excessive passions. In addition to } > 82 I these psycho-physical traits, Bussy retains a faint aura ofj the malcontent type, the man whose motives are questionable] Bussy's personal ambitions, if any, are never clearly j stated, but his demand for a courtly wardrobe implies j greater self-interest than public dedication, \ Chapman may have designed this initial scene in the j wood to demonstrate a parallel between Bussy and Achilles, t I as both are men of great stature who are aroused from mo- ; I rose melancholy to warlike fervor. But the paradoxical I question remains unanswered: Is Bussy the intellectual mel-j ancholy man of Aristotle who is awakened to noble action, j or is he -merely a malcontent in search of personal reward? I In this manner, Chapman dramatizes Bussy's heroic virtues i at the same time that he underlines his protagonist's hu man weaknesses, Bussy is as much concerned with the ac quisition of a new suit as he is with the promulgation of virtuous action. I In terms of classical tradition, Bussy's decision to ) return to court is a heroic one. Like the Greek hero Odys- :seus, he comes home from his wanderings to re-establish order and community values. Also, Bussy's desire to scourge (the sycophants at court is parallel to the Senecan .re venger' s search for private justice which, as in Antonio's i .Revenge, accompanied a desire to reform or purify society. Bussy's attitude, however, from the moment he undertakes I his quest is not so much one of constructive reform as it | 83 is one of rebellious hostility to the entire social group. As Travis Bogard says of BusSy, i r As an individual he is ; frequently in opposition to the entire social structure in which he moves--D’Ambois against the world, The form which Bussy's activity takes, like that of J the other Jacobean protagonists to be considered here, is i revolt. An analysis of the methods by which Bussy attempts to carry out his revolt reveals an ironic pattern of behav- I ior which tends to make his heroic stature even more ambig-j i uous. He has vowed to present himself as an exemplum of j j virtue, but he persistently violates the conventional moral> and civil codes of the society which he has rejoined. In | his rebellion against policy he Sometimes seems more cor- j I I rupt than his adversaries. He invents his own laws to suit' his own needs. He begs King Henry for the opportunity to ! i do good in his own way, insisting That I may make good what God and Nature Have given me for my good; Since I am free, (Offending no just law), let no law make By any wrong it does, my life her slave; When I am wrong'd, and that law fails to right me, Let me be king myself (as man was made), And do a justice that exceeds the law; If my wrong pass the power of single valour To right and expiate; then be you my king, And do a right, exceeding law and nature: Who to himself is law, no law doth need, Offends no law, and is a king indeed.. (II.i,193-204) ^ The Tragic Satire of John Webster (Berkeley, 1955)j Jp. 23. 84 Such a statement sounds courageous and heroic, Bussy,, the Herculean protagonist, responding to natural law, as serts his own superior concept of justice over corrupt pol icy, However, it is also a revolutionary statement which may be contrary to the public good for, as King Henry has j already observed, then ' This would make every man that thinks him wrong'd j Or is offended, or in wrong or right, ! Lay on this violence. . . . (160-163) 1 * j Monsieur, however, successfully defends Bussy's point of ! 1 view by claiming that the natural virtue of men like Bussy j } would be inspirational to others, and the King hesitatingly | lets it go at that (165-184), Paradoxically, Bussy's efforts to instigate a revolt ! against policy are confined to a very small sphere of inter-j est and never shake the roots of the society. In the end j ! he abandons aggressive action for compromise. His first attack, for example, is directed against courtly etiquette. i 'He scoffs at the sophisticated ritual of manners enjoyed by the lords and ladies and is rude to everyone, especially the Duke of Guise, He dares to flatter the Duchess with a blunt imitation of courtly manners, but he is so attractive .that she immediately accepts him as her admirer (l.ii.154). Another example of Bussy's futile attempt at revolt is the duel he initiates with two of the courtiers who are among the "greats” or opportunists whom he has vowed to .purge. In a sense the duel represents the combat between 85 single adversaries which the heroes of HomerTs epics under take. The fight takes place off stage and is reported to the audience by a Nuntius. In this respect, Ohapman is clearly imitating the technique of Senecan drama and spar- j ing his audience the orgies so often enacted in the Jacobe- ! an versions of revenge tragedy, such as the mutilation of j Julio in Antonio's Revenge. Bussy, we are told, performs i with great skill and bravery. However, his victory is dim med by several contingencies. First, he kills only two of j i his enemies, leaving the rest of the court unscathed. Also,! since dueling was illegal, he deserves to be condemned as a | murderer. Finally, the immediate cause of the duel was too trivial to be heroic. Bussy kills because he believed his ! I honor was maligned when the courtiers ridiculed the second hand costume which Monsieur gave him and mocked his sudden rise in court. Hence, Bussy's heroic challenge to combat does not really accomplish any of the goals to which he is !pledged. His motive seems more personal than public, his action more impulsive than deliberate. Neither does Bussy's next revolt further the rise of virtue in court, but instead he seems to reveal a self directed man's search for self-gratification. Immediately after the duel, Bussy confesses that he plans to use his ;"deeds of height" to attract the admiration of the Duchess of Montsurry (II.i,212-218). He is successful, and she be comes his mistress. To the classical hero the conquest of ' 86 a beautiful woman was. hardly a matter of serious moral con cern. Achilles demands his Briseis, Agamemnon his Cassan dra., as spoils of war. j Likewise, BuSsy seems to be unconscious of any miscon- | I duct in his relationship with Tamyra, When she becomes ap prehensive, he reassures her with the extraordinary infor mation that adultery is not sinful when it is the expres- ' sion of genuine love. Sin, he explains, is a notion held by man of policy: | Sin is a coward, madam, and insults j But on our weakness, in his truest valour: | And so our ignorance tames us, that we let His shadows fright us: and like empty clouds, j In which our faculty apprehensions forge j The forms of dragons, lions, elephants, ; When they hold no proportion, like the sly charms j Of the witch Policy makes him like a monster Kept only to show men for servile .money: j That false hag often paints him in her cloth 1 Ten times more monstrous than he Is in troth. (III.i.20-30) ; | Because of his obvious sincerity, Bussy's insistence [that sin is a coward and a slave of policy has the ring of a heroic declamation of truth. Yet, no matter how corrupt the French court may be, Bussy has no moral Justification for an adulterous love affair. In Renaissance drama, as we shall see in The Duchess of Mal.fi and The Changeling, love was not a sufficient excuse for marriage between persons of • unequal standing or a marriage between persons of like standing whose parents opposed the union. Love based on ■reason, not lust, formed the only basis for a proper mar- 87 riage, Adultery., which is the result of irresponsible pas- 12 sion, was not to be tolerated. Thus Bussy, the prototype of a valiant classical hero, j i is exposed as a lesser man who allows his emotions to lead ! him to a sinful love affair, Bussy's claim of virtue seems less persuasive here than when he denounced the courtiers for their acts of policy. In fact, Bussy’s argument that i love is a justification for adultery suggests that he too I l has surrendered to the "policy” which he has so vigorously 1 condemned, Nonetheless, the curious dichotomy of Bussy's J nature remains unresolved. Adulterer, he is in fact, but ! his direct and guileless adoration of Tamyra seems, some- ! how, virtuous. j These are the high moments of Bussy's revolt against I policy,- he engages in acts of murder and adultery, both of which he defends as virtuous, Bussy seems to propose as jhis new rule of conduct that men should live in a state of 12 Since the courtly love cults of the middle ages, adultery had its place in social conventions, However, the moral and religious authorities never condoned such illicit passion. Seventeenth-century dramatists might depict adul tery in their plays, but the adulters were usually punished for their susceptibility to passion. Even Dryden, who de fended Charles IIrs promiscuity, regarded the heroic hero as a character distinguished from others by, as Selma Assir Zebouni observes, "his dominion, or eventual dominion over his passion or passions," Dryden: A Study in Heroic Charac terization (Baton Rouge, La., 1965)j Louisiana State Uni-' versity Studies, No, 16, p. 21, Accordingly, Lawrence Babb, .among others, condemns Bussy for his lack of control of his ;lust for Tamyra because their love was untenable in terms jof seventeenth-century morality, p, 150, 88 anarchy because law and morality are the tools of wicked policy, He lectures to King Henry on the evils of syco phants,, and Henry applauds, exclaiming that Bussy is his eagle who will pluck out evil (III,ii.4). But Bussy is un able to become the scourge of corruption because the king . demands that Bussy make a reconciliation with his chief target, the Guise. The king's hypocritical attitude to wards reform could be expected to enrage a hero like Bussy to such a degree that he would vow that policy must be eliminated even if it required the extermination of the i king himself. Bussy, however, does not protest aijid re- | Tuctantly agrees to an accord. By this act Bussy makes one further step towards his own adoption of policy. In the final scene of Act III, a scene placed in a strategic position dramatically because it is normally the climax of the action of a five-act drama, Bussy makes his i 1 I capitulation as a revolutionary hero* A curious confronts-; ;tion takes place between Bussy and Monsieur. Bussy sus- ’pects that Monsieur has come to discuss a plot to kill the king, and Bussy quickly announces that he is capable of any act except the killing of a king (III.ii,395)• Mon sieur does not urge Bussy to act as a tool villain, but ■offers to tell the plain truth about the great Bussy D’Ambois in exchange for Bussy's own opinions of Monsieur. :Bussy is surprised because he has believed that ’ ’great" men ;like Monsieur usually prefer flattery to honesty, but he ' 89j I agrees to the proposal. Monsieur begins by applying Bussy’s principles of sincerity to a character analysis. Monsieur calls Bussy a headstrong bloody wild horse,, a cannibal, a | man without a soul who is as ridiculous in his valor as a montebank, a man who would perform all mischief short of | killing a king. Then he asks whether he has spoken like a ; trusty friend, to which Bussy replies, "That ever any man i \ was blest withal" (46l), Not only does Bussy fail to refute any of Monsieur's j insults (nor does he suggest a duel as he did in Act IT), ! but he actually seems to accept these apparently insulting epithets as valid. Nor does he explain why he is reluctant ; to perform this ultimate achievement of revolution, regi- ; cide. When he has already demonstrated that he is not | i loathe to commit either adultery or murder to achieve his purposes, why hesitate over regicide? i There was, of course, a practical reason for this de cision. Regicide was a sensitive topic in Jacobean times and a play dealing too realistically with such a topic might fall prey to- the censors. Furthermore, Chapman had pre viously encountered serious difficulties with the author!- 11 ties over a minor disrespect to James I in Eastward Ho I 11 JThe play contains an uncomplimentary reference to Scotsmen and, as James I was Scotch, the matter caused a furor which resulted in the imprisonment of Chapman, Mars- ton, and Jonson, 90 However, the apparent inconsistency of Bussy’s atti tude, the censors notwithstanding, reinforces the gathering image of Bussy as a man of compromise rather than a man of resolution. At the crucial moment of the drama, the moment when a traditional hero who is dedicated to the purgation I of corruption should he arming himself to commence his deed| of valor by the annihilation of a tyrant, Bussy turns aside j without explanation and departs to a banquet in the company! of Monsieur, i In the final acts, Bussy's revolt dissolves entirely, j He learns that his adulterous affair has been discovered j and decides to resort to policy himself to cover his prepa-j rations for a stand against the politicians. Despite his j aggressive attitude, Bussy never formulates a plan. When | he learns through augury that he is fated to die, he momen-; tarily revives his rebellious attitude and affirms his de cision to act (V,ill,70-82). However, his noble purpose for reform seems totally lost here. His concern is limited exclusively to his love for Tamyra and his desire to defend her from her angry husband. So the protagonist who aspired to be an exemplum of virtue to a court corrupted by compromise and expediency ,1s himself brought to compromise and expediency. His re- 1 ,volt has lost its meaning on any broad social level, and is restricted to the whim of the individual who is resolved to ilive his own life for his own purposes, Ohapman's focus 91 which originally revealed Bussy as a man of great propor tions* a Hercules* narrows to expose a man of lesser dimen sions who surrenders to sexual passion.. The epic battle is reduced to a skirmish between the sheets-— and the protago nist diminishes in stature accordingly. • t As a consequence of his ineffectual revolutionary con duct* Bussy enters a spiritual exile in the midst of the ' court which parallels the literal exile he experienced in ! the green wood. Like the traditional hero* Bussy possesses ! a sense of isolation which can be attributed to his excep- j tlonal abilities. However* in Bussy's case* this isolation | becomes even more profound because he feels contempt for ■the entire social group. His arrogant declamations* his murderous duel* and the disclosure of his adulterous affair1 with Tamyra culminate in Bussy's ostracism from this social1 group. Thus* Bussy is at all times an individual isolated , on the periphery of society despite his persistent efforts 'to champion it. As Robert Ornstein describes him* "Bus- i sy . . . is an aberration and exception* an isolated virtu ous man . . . an anti-Prince* a would be savior of a deca dent society" (The Moral Vision* pp. 51-52). Therefore* exiled* alienated* isolated as Bussy be- ,comes* it is not surprising that he is victimized and de stroyed by forces more powerful than he. Throughout the 'play Bussy is concerned about "Fortune" which he views as jirresponsible chance* a concept reminiscent of the tradition of de casibus tragedy which was popular in the Middle Ages ! and early Renaissance. In this literary tradition an ele vated and superior protagonist inevitably falls headlong from the highest pinnacle of success to disgrace and 14 death. Early in his career Bussy comments on the inabil- | | ity of man to control his own fortune, a theme linked to : de casibuss ----------- — I Ihere is a deep nick in Time's restless wheel ! For each man's good, when which nick comes, it strikes; As rhetoric yet works not persuasion, But only as a mean to make it work; So no man riseth by his real merit, I But when it cries clink to his raiser's spirit, ! (1.1,134-139) : Once he has risen, fate can strike a man down, Bussy'sj return to court can, in a very modest sense, be said to be : an elevation in social position. However, he is never as j i grand as a de casibus hero for he lacks wealth, prestige, and power. His claim to virtue is his only source of eleva-’ tion which becomes the link to his downfall, The fate theme 'is reiterated in Act Y.ii. when Monsieur and Guise (his ul timate murderers) discuss the blindness of nature. Mon sieur repeats the image of man as a tree tossed by the wind and hints that Bussy is doomed to disaster, "As Fortune •swings about the restless state / Of virtue, now thrown in to all men's hate" (52-53). ; ^Willard Farnham's The Medieval Heritage of Elizabe than Tragedy (New York, 1956), pp. 69-172, deals with de~ casibus tragedy in considerable detail. See also Madeleine |Doran's Endeavors of Art (Madison, Wis., 1954), pp. 115-128, 93 | Bate, in the form of the prophesies of the ghostly Behemoth j , does seem to play a part in Bussy’s downfall, j Behemoth is something of a deus ex machina or a mystical i character who has prescience of coming events. He also resembles the ghost of revenge tragedy. His function., how- j ever, in the drama is very minor. Bussy's murder can be ! more clearly related to his own intemperate behavior, the j uncontrollable spirit in his breast which rouses other men ' ! to anger and jealousy and drives them to murder. His fate, ! I therefore, is not caused by external powers, but by his own ; nature. j Chapman's persistent amalgamation of traditional ele- ! ! ments with realistic human experience, such as the dual con-j cept of fate, is apparent in the climactic scene of the j play, Bussy is depicted like the.epic hero who fearlessly ; downs his quarry and treats his victim with the etiquette !of a medieval knight. Yet all the while he is in the proc ess of committing both immoral and illegal acts. Heedless !of his own danger, Bussy rushes pell-mell to rescue Tamyra :from her avenging husband. He Is ambushed by hired assas sins whom he fights off successfully. Then he subdues Montsurry in a duel (another example of epic use of single ;combat) and, instead of killing him outright, orders Mont- surry to commit suicide (also an epical art which adds to the stature of the hero). It is difficult to remember dur- 'ing this scene that Bussy is not actually enacting the role ’ 94 of a champion of virtue and justice but is ordering the death of an innocent man whom he has cuckolded* i At this moment of triumphy, Bussy, much to everyone's surprisej is shot in the back by the Guise and Monsieur } (who have remained hidden in the wings and now run away I I without ever being seen) * The wounding comes as a shock,, as if unanticipated and undeserved. Bussy reacts with in credulous horror and protests the injustice of the destruc tion of his body by such an ignoble act of "coward Pates / j Have maim'd themselves, and ever lost their honour" : (V..iv.73-7^) . | Nor does Bussy accept his fate by acknowledging his j mistakes, like Oedipus Rex. Instead of confessing moral j guilt, he looks to heaven and demands to know the meaning j of his death: Is my body, then, I But penetrable flesh? And must my mind : Follow my. blood? Gan my divine part add No aid to th' earthly in extremity? . . . let my death Define life nothing by a courtier's breath Nothing is made of nought, of all things made, Their abstract being a dream but of a shade, I'll not complain to earth yet, but to heaven And, like a man, look upwards even in death, (78-89) So Bussy dies without a sense of achievement or of .reconciliation to either human or cosmic justice. He rec ognizes that he has failed to accomplish the heroic task to which he has committed himself, but resolves to die like a ;hero, standing erect so that he can launch his protest to- ■ v 95 wards heaven. He forgives his murderers and urges Tamyra to be reunited with her husband in an attempt to leave some semblance of order and morality behind. However* he does 1 i not die without some self-recrimination. He blames himself' i i for being less the hero than he had intended* a falling j star rather than a thunderbolt. And in this sense he truly! acknowledges his own failure. He has not touched the real ■ cause of corruption. It was not that he lacked will* but that he lacked strength. As he confesses* j Of frail condition of strength* valour* virtue* t In me (Like warning fire upon the top [ Of some steep beacon* on a steeper hill) i Made to express iti like a falling star i Silently glancrd* that like a thunderbolt LookJd to have struck and shook the firmament. (l4l-l46) I After his death* however* Bussy is mourned by surviv- j ors who find him to be a hero after all, The ghost* or Umbra* of the deceased Friar delivers a final eulogy which describes Bussy not as a falling star* but a rising one. Here* once more* is the continuing paradox of the play. Umbra* Friar that he was before his death* acted as a pan der for the illicit lovers. Although his conduct is cer tainly unethical by Jacobean standards* Chapman has made [ him a good and’kindly father whose words are meaningful. .His eulogy* no matter how inconsistent it may seem* is a hymn of praise on the death of a herot 96 Farewell., brave relics of a complete man, Look up and see thy spirit made a star; Join flames with Hercules, and when thou sett'st Thy radiant forehead In the firmament, Make the vast crystal crack with thy receipt; Spread to the world of fire, and the aged sky Cheer with new sparks of old humanity. (147-153) I Thus Bussy D'Ambois ends In the traditional manner with the tragic death of the hero, the assertion of a moral, and i the restoration of order. Unquestionably, Bussy's death ! (despite the Umbra's eulogy) can be regarded as an appropri ate Illustration of the moral which Bussy stated in Act I, | Like the hero of a de casibus-morality play such as Thomas j Preston's Cambises, King of Persia (1569), Bussy enjoys 1 days of glory. Then, like Cambises, at the high point of ! his career, Bussy fails to use virtue as his guide and j | adopts evil ways. Fortune then turns against him and "ship-* wrack" follows. However, Bussy's enigmatic behavior does not confirm such a clear-cut axiom. In terms of Renais- I l ! sance concepts of virtue, to say nothing of his own defini tion, Bussy's actions do appear condemnable, But Bussy's / honesty and forthrightness in everything he says or does provide him with an aura of guiltlessness and natural prow ess. The great popularity of the character of Bussy as ex pressed in the prologue written for a later production of ,the play is testimony to the fact that Bussy, despite his culpable weaknesses, emerges as a sympathetic, even heroic, character, The Prologue speaker laments the loss of actors •who have played the dynamic role of Bussy: 97 * . . FIELD is gone., Whose action first did give, it name, and one Who came the nearest to him, is denied By his gray beard to show the height and pride Of D’AMBOIS1 youth and bravery, . . . j (Prologue 15-19) I Paradoxically, the re-establishment of order and the J triumph of virtue prove to be nothing more than the triumph' of policy which Bussy has condemned. Order in society is achieved by the elimination of the one unconventional char-j acter, the Herculean protagonist who has so long urged the revival of virtue in corrupt society. Now the game of po- ; licy will continue as before in court, circles. In domestic matters policy also wins, Tamyra remembers that she did. 1 i the politic thing when she. married Montsurry without loye i I and, over Bussy*s corpse, she begs her husband's forgive- i ness in one more act of policy. With corresponding grace, j Montsurry grants her desire'. In the final paradox, Bussy is remembered as a hero by those who scorned him as a man. I : The question of Bussy D’Ambois' stature as a tragic hero has always been perplexing. It is of course possible :to blame the ambiguity of the play upon the inadequacies of the playwright. However., it is the very ambiguity itself i which makes the play interesting, and all of the evidence jcited heretofore suggests that the paradoxes which have been so laboriously pointed out must express Chapman's own ■complex thinking on the matter of the heroic hero. The ;play appears to be, as Eugene Waith describes it, an intel- 98 lectual study of the problem of the heroic nature (The Her culean Hero, p. 111). In addition, Waith briefly points to the multiplicity of ambiguity in the incidents of the play and concludes, "Together these paradoxes present the ! moving dilemma of a great-spirited man who attempts to live* by a heroic code in a world dominated by Machiavellian pol-| icy" (p. 111). , Although some critics dismiss the significance of ! these paradoxes and evaluate Bussyfs achievement along other lines, the theories they evolve to explain Bussy’ s action do not appear to be as valid as the foregoing ex- i 15 I planation. -^Some scholars contrive to fit this tragedy neatly j into traditional forms and treat BuSsy as a conventional \ hero. Theodore Spencer, for example, sees Bussy D'Ambois as a typical Christian tragedy and claims that Bussy is defeated by a tragic flaw, his susceptibility to passion, Death and the Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge, Mass., 193^), p3 2A3. Elias Schwartz finds the play typical of Senecan ■ tragedy in which the virtuous hero, facing a corrupt soci- ; ety, is doomed, not because he violates moral order, but ;because his virtue cannot survive in an immoral world, "Seneca, Homer and Chapman’s Bussy D’Ambois," p. 166/ . ,Ennis Rees views it as a combination of classical and Ghris- ' tian concepts of tragedy and suggests that Chapman emulated Homer by creating characters who are dramatic illustrations of virtue and vice. According to Rees, BusSy, who like ;Achilles is a slave of passion, must be considered as an exemplum of evil, The Tragedies of George Chapman, p. 30* A similar position is taken by Roy Battenhouse, ""Chapman land the Nature of Man," pp. 134-152. 1 Other scholars criticize the play as a tragedy on the , basis of the weaknesses of the heno, Bussy. In "The Tragic - Hero and Chapman1 s Bussy D’Ambois,’ 1 William G. Me Co Horn ! suggests that Bussy is so confident of his own superiority that he can never admit he is wrong. The fault, McCollum tsuggests, is that Chapman did not recognize this defect in 99] Bussy*s stature as a protagonist is undeniably ambigu- l6 ous, It is a fact that he seems heroic, but is not, He sets out to be a Herculean hero, but fails to accomplish Bussy's character. University of Toronto Quarterly, XVIII | (April 1949)j 229-233. Peter Ure suggests that Chapman's 1 interest was not in universal problems of human nature,, | practical morality, or evil, but in a particular man whose ! high*-spirited characteristics strikingly resembled the play wright himself, "Chapman's Tragedies," Jacobean Theatre, j ed. J, R. Brown and B, Harris (New York, i960), pp. 230- | 236* Editor Nicholas Brooke attributes many of the para- j doxes which cause confusion in the play to Bussy's self- deception, Intro., p, xxiv. j The enigma of Bussy-the-hero is sometimes linked to j Chapman's inability to answer the moral question which the character poses, Robert Ornstein suggests that Chapman ! recognizes the ambiguities, but hesitates to condemn them, ! The Moral Vision of Jacobean Tragedy, p. 58, Irving Ribner ■ suggests that Chapman did not know the answer himself, Jac-j obean Tragedy (New York, 1962), p.. 35J while Richard H. | Perkinson believes that Chapman made a tentative resolution j by attributing the disaster to misfortune as a dramatically j utilitarian device, "Nature and the Tragic Hero in Chap man's Bussy Plays," Modern Language Quarterly, III (June i 1942), 265, 16 ' A comparison could be made between Bussy and Shakes- jpeare’s Antony in Antony and Cleopatra, Antony retains a ;.mueh closer affiliation with the conceptual hero. He is ■of high social and political rank, a member of the second !triumvirate, and a famous warrior. His love for Cleopatra, .like Bussy's for Tamyra, is also adulterous, and the pres sures on him to return to Rome and his legal wife are con siderable, Cleopatra's elevated stature makes her a more worthy consort for a hero, and Antony's decision to stay .'with her might be called his tragic mistake, rather than .submission to passion, Antony's stature is diminished by !his passions. His continuous carousing weakens his cavalier |image; his ambivalence in choosing between love and duty, ,his frantic decision to follow Cleopatra instead of pursu ing his duty as a general are all signs of a protagonist ,who is more representative of individual man than community .hero. It is their antagonism to community values and po- 'litical order, as well as the inability to control passion ;with reason, which set both Bussy and Antony apart from itraditional heroes. ! Herculean deeds and dies without understanding what pur poses his life may have served. He possesses Roman virtu, but cannot entirely escape judgment under the Christian concept of virtue. Madeleine Doran1s analysis of Chapman's heroes, all of whom she finds somehow blameless in their deeds, serves as well as any to sum up Bussy's achievement as a protagonist. She writess [Chapman's] heroes are not clearly motivated by simple ambition for power. They seem to be moved as much or more by an intense ambition to be themselves in their innate greatness; they feel themselves caught in a world where man-made law is not true justice, where crooked policy takes the place of direct and honest action, where the holders of power are not always the great in spirit. (Endeavors of Art, pp. - 122-123) Chapman's great protagonist, Bussy D'Ambois, is a tragic figure composed of many of the irreconcilable quali ties of the colossal epic hero and a man of humble stature who is drawn into minor skirmishes rather than genuine bat tles. Chapman's experiment, if such was his intention, of .introducing a traditional hero into a seventeenth-century !society dominated by Machiavellian politics is an apparent s 17 failure, Bussy, with all the superficial trappings of 17 If we accept Bussy D'Ambois as an experimental hero, ;then we should also examine Bussy's cousin, Clermont, who 'is the chief protagonist of The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois .(l607“l6l2?), Clermont differs from the passionate Bussy In that Clermont is (as Chapman calls him) the Senecal man or the stoical protagonist. If Bussy is like moody, vio- .lent Achilles, Glermont resembles calm, thoughtful Odysseus The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois has the mechanical vestments .of revenge tragedy such as the Ghost, the delay, and so :forth, Clermont is not inhibited by melancholy. When the 101 the semi-divine Achilles and Hercules., acts like a lesser man who abandons reason, espouses passion, and loses all. I Yet Bussy has a certain glamour and a certain dignity whichj make his errors seem less grievous, his death more tragic. J Bussy1s weaknesses, his rash behavior and his susceptibil- j ity to passion, serve to make him seem more realistic as a character. He is angry; he loves. So does any man. Chap-i I man does not condemn Bussy as a vicious and immoral sinner,! as a Renaissance moralist might. Rather, Chapman ends the ! ! play with an eulogy to a great but unlucky man whose death j brings temporary peace to his corrupt enemies. : moment of crisis arrives he proposes an honorable duel with his adversary, Montsurry, and fatally wounds him. As the man is dying, Clermont graciously forgives him, Clermont's tragedy is brought about by other circumstances in his life: the blinding of his beloved (she weeps her eyes out ; when she is erroneously told Clermont is dead), and the murder of his dear friend, the Duke of Guise, by the order of a weak king, -Clermont's attitude is heroic at all times, ; He refuses to concede to the wicked world and continues to i affirm the values of friendship and loyalty, even to a king ' who has done him an injustice. The irony of the play is demonstrated by the fact that the hero cannot solve the i problems of society. He cannot purge evil. He decides to commit suicide rather than be corrupted by an evil world. Thus, Chapman's second great hero is also defeated despite j^the nobility of his efforts. CHAPTER Y THE REYENGER1S TRAGEDY The Revenger’s Tragedy (1606), generally attributed to1 ]_ 1 Cyril Tourneur, is a blend of Senecan revenge tragedy and medieval morality drama, both of which contribute to the ' paradoxical contradictions in the character of the protago-* 2 nist. As Vindici, the Avenger of Senecan tragedy, he acts as a moral scourge of a corrupt society. As Vindici, the Vengeance of God of morality drama, he defeats sin. On the' i i other hand, by so doing he commits villainous acts and thus I | becomes Vindici, the Murderer, who is condemned to death | Although the play was printed without mention of the ■author’s name, similarities to The Atheist’s Tragedy have ■led most scholars to attribute it to Tourneur. Numerous ■other scholars attribute the play to Middleton. See Rich ard H, Barker, Thomas Middleton (New York, 1958), pp.. 64- '65; Samuel Schoenbaum, Middleton1s Tragedies (New York, 1955), P- 6; Peter B. Murray, A Study of Cyril Tourneur (Philadelphia, 1964), pp. 144-173. Personally I find the .play more like Marston’s dramaturgy than any other play wright's. However, for the purposes of this study, I pre- jfer to consider the play as a single work of unknown auth orship. ^Schoenbaum, pp. 32-33, and L. C. Salingar, ’ ’The Re- :venger's Tragedy and the Morality Tradition," Scrutiny, VI i(March 1938)7 402-424. 102 103 for his transgressions against the society he has saved. The play, furthermore, has been said to have as many as twenty-two peripeteia or ironic reversals of action.^ Be cause of these repeated ironies, Vindici’s heroic stature I i becomes uncertain and ambiguous for he is neither a glorious hero nor a contemptible murderer, but something of both, ; This strikingly unusual play is today one of the most , i admired tragedies written in the early seventeenth-century j 4 i by a playwright other than Shakespeare, It contains many , I vivid and colorful episodes and has a fascinating gothic- j i baroque quality. At the opening of the play the character I i of Vindici evokes a sense of compelling horror as he is j shown in the act of caressing the skull of his beloved j fiancee, Gloriana, and blackly lamenting her murder by the ! lecherous Duke, One is at first repelled by the stark j manipulation of the death symbol, but also sympathetic for I !the tragic loss which this man has suffered. " 3 M. 0. Bradbrook, Themes and Conventions of Elizabe than Tragedy (Cambridge, I960), p, 165. 4 T. S, Eliot praises Tourneur’s ability as a dramatist for plot construction, stage effects, and versification, but finds that the disgusting tenor of the violence exceeds 1 the objective correlative, Essays on Elizabethan Drama (New York, 1932), pp, 110-124, The play is praised by T. B, Tomlinson in A Study of Elizabethan and Jacobean Tragedy r (Cambridge, 1964), p, .157; Frederick Boas, An' Introduction 'to Stuart Drama (Oxford, 1946), p, 219; and Eredson Bowers, Elizabethan Revenge Tragedy (Princeton, 195*0), p. l36--to 'name only a few. io4 | From this moment hence the dramatic focus rests on the paradoxical character of Vindici. Ostensibly he resembles I the traditional protagonist of Senecan revenge tragedy* but (like Antonio) he also has the characteristics of a lesser man. Although he is a member of the nobility., he is not a j member of the ruling family or a distinguished warrior. j i Vindicirs rank is lowered further by his lack of family | wealth. His father was "a worthy Gentlemen*. / Had his es- ! j— I tate beene fellow to his mind" (I.i ,121-12.2) - P Further- j more* the Duke did not grant him court preferment* and the ; impoverished man "dyed / Of discontent* the Noblemans con- j sumption" (125-126). As a result* Vindici has been reared { outside the court environment* although his brother* Hippo-j lito* has been successful in achieving a position in the j l Duke's chambers * j i The Jacobean minor nobleman may be a second source I from which the playwright derived the character of Vindici* Tindici’s economic predicament resembles that of numerous i seventeenth-century gentlemen who* with the growth of a l prosperous merchant class and rising prices* as well as the An Anthology of Jacobean Drama* ed, Richard C. Har rier (New York* 1963)* II, This edition serves as the text ,from which all further citations will be made. As in the case of the other plays examined here* The Revenger's Trag- 'edy has received several new editions, Since this is not a textual study I have chosen a text which was readily avail able and seemed adequate. Other recent editions of the 'play are by R. A. Foakes (London* 1966),, Lawrence J, Ross (Lincoln* Nebr.* 1966)* and Allardyce Nicholl (New York* jl963) , _ _ , 105 fluctuation of court politics, found themselves in a very 6 unsatisfactory political and financial position. Vihdici's sister, Castiga, faces a problem which also confronted Jac obean girls of the lesser nobility. She attracts the ar- j i dors of the Duke's, son, Lussurioso, but he does not offer ; a proposal of marriage because "the doury of her bloud and | of her fortunes / Are both too mean,--good ynough to be . bad withal" (j.iii.102-103)* Also, Vindici resembles the courtly gentleman, as pre-| scribed by the Renaissance principle of decorum. However, j his qualifications are inferior to Antonio's. Antonio is i cast as a young man who is well educated, skilled at arms, : and undoubtedly attractive to look at (since the fair Mel- i lida is in love with him). Vindici is older— as his fian cee has been dead for nine years. Thus he seems less suited for feats of heroic prowess and is probably less good looking, a fact which may be linked not only to the |natural process of aging but to the effects of melancholy which has oppressed him all. these years. Vindici's melancholy nature is far more complex than 'Antonio's. For Vindici does not represent a single melan choly character but three, each of which demonstrates a i 6 Salingar, "The Revenger's Tragedy,1 1 p, 417, mentions ;this historical link and suggests that Vindici is a spokes- :man of the landless lesser gentry whose allegiance is to l_fche past and who .seeks._ solace in the accumulation o_f gold. 106 progressively more repugnant form of the humour. Vindici’s primary nature in which he expresses his true feelings re sembles the noble Aristotelian concept of melancholy. He speaks as an intelligent man whose great sorrows are the | i result of extraordinary misfortune. i j This initial, and genuine, Vindici (whom we shall j I label #1) confesses that he has grieved since the corrupt Duke poisoned the virtuous Gloriana when She refused to ' submit to his lecherous advances, Vindici's melancholy has' been recently augmented by the death of his father, who was i i also wronged by the Duke, and now Vindici's despair has be-' i I come so intense that he sees evil everywhere, Vindici re- ; ! alizes that not only the Duke but his entire family is cor-, rupt. As they parade past, Vindici cries out in an impas- J sioned soliloquy: ‘ j I Duke, royall letcher] goe, gray-hayrde adultery, j And thou his Sonne as impious steept as hee: i And thou his bastard, true-begott in evillt : And thou his Dutchesse, that will doe with Divill, Foure exlent Characters, -- 0 that marrow-lesse age Would stuffe the hollow Bones of dambd desires, And ’stead of heate kindle internall fires Within the spend-thrift veynes of a drye Duke, A parcht and juiceless luxur, 0 GodJ one That has scarce bloud inough to live upon; Ane hee to ryot it like an sonne and heyrei 0 the thought of that Turnes my absurd heart-strings into fret, (1,1.1-13) Prolonged melancholy like this was traditionally recog nized in Jacobean times as a psycho-physical illness which I ;is difficult to cure. The melancholy person, flooded with ^black bile, becomes wrapped in his thoughts and fancies, is 107 taciturn at times (viz. Vindici is lack of public protest at the time in which the original murder occurred)*^but will also make emotional outbursts at other times (as in the case v i of the soliloquy quoted above). As the condition grows in- ! creasingly severe., the melancholy person often claims to I hate mankind. In VindiciTs case, he^becomes obsessed with J the excesses of lust and drunkenness which he sees prac- ! ticed everywhere. His cry is now: j 0 Dutch lust I fulsome lust. 1 I Druncken procreation* which begets so much drunckards: i Some father dreads not (gonne to bedde in wine) to J slide from the mother* i And cling the daughter-in-law. (I.iii.58-61) . If these obsessions were mere fancies* Vindici could | be said to have contracted the disease symptoms of melan- j choly adust. Certainly the words he uses and many of his i subsequent actions might be symptoms of insanity. However* ; i the evidence of the play makes one fact very clear. Vin- jdici is describing the true state of affairs. The court is ;shown to be as corrupt as he claims* and sexual immorality seems to affect everyone* even his mother is willing to urge her own daughter to become a prostitute. Consequently* ■Vindici #lJs melancholy appears to be genuine grief based on legitimate "occasion," and his desire for revenge may be viewed as reasonable in terms of the primitive code :which permitted reprisal for wrongs which can be righted in no other manner, Vindici #2 is Piato, a scurrilous pander, which is a disguise that Vindici assumes so that he can plot his re- j venge in safe proximity to his intended victim, the Duke, j Such a shape (although Vindici did not choose it himself) I tends to allay some of the sympathy engendered by the j heart-broken #1. Piato is a repulsive malcontent who j speaks with the sharp wit and harsh manner of a disillu- I i I sioned man and acts with apparent cruelty against those he j loves, J I As Vindici #3, a role assumed when the character of | Piato blunders and must flee for safety, Vindici mocks his own melancholy. For #3 is a type malcontent, so often j found in Jacobean literature, a man of affectation who is morose, discontented over lack of money and low social 1 station, and as such is potentially seditious and may be 1 used as a tool villain. It is paradoxical that #3, al- I 1 though a pretended character, has characteristics of #1 who is in fact poor and neglected, and these characteristics contribute to an increasingly warped image of Vindici #1. 'In the final scenes the three Vindiois seem to blend into a single image of a melancholy man whose bitterness and grief have developed into a fury which is symptomatic of a (lesser man who cannot restrain passion with reason. One question comes to mind here: could Vindici be suf fering from religious melancholy? Lawrence Babb writes ■ that Jacobeans thought that some melancholics, because of 109 the weakness of their condition,, were easily possessed by 7 devils. There is too little evidence in the text to cor- i roborate such a hypothesis., but the matter comes up for j conjecture later on in the discussion of the play, ' t The second major tradition to be found in the charac- < terization of Vindici is medieval morality drama. As : Samuel Schoenbaum and L. S. Salingar have observed., The Re - ; venger1s Tragedy contains type characters which can be re- : O garded as personified abstractions of virtues and vices, ! i The Duke's son, Lussurioso, for example., is a representa tion of Lechery., one of the Seven Deadly Sins, The other j characters also have names which suggest type .represents- : I f tion with quasi-moralistic overtones of good or evil. They 1 are Spurio (Bastard), Ambitioso (Ambitious), Supervacuo ! (Over-foolish), and Gratiana (Grace),^ Vindici likewise seems to be included in this roster of.vices and virtues as ^The Elizabethan Malady (East Lansing, Mich., 1951) > p, 49. 8 Middleton's Tragedies, p. 28 and "Revenger's Tragedy," p, 403. For the general characteristics of the medieval .morality play see Willard Farnham, The Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy (New York, 1956), pp, 173-270j and Henry Hitch Adams, English Domestic Tragedy Or, Homiletic Tragedy 1575-1640 (New York, 19^3)/ pp, 54-74. q ^See Harrier's edition of The Revenger's Tragedy, p. 4ll for an analysis of the meaning of the names of the .characters. The Seven Deadly Sins are Pride, Covetousness, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Lechery, and Sloth, The names of the characters listed above seem to suggest various aspects of !these sins, except Gratiana who belongs among the virtues. 110 his name Is translated to Revenge. However., the playwright does not clearly establish Vindici's moral position. The Christian Bible reads "do not seek revenge, but leave a place for divine retribution" (Romans 12,19). Therefore, if Vindici scourges corruption as an instrument of Divine Providence, he acts as a champion of virtue. But if he exacts personal revenge he is a promulgator of vice. Thus the character of Vindici is derived from two ma jor literary traditions, but is consistent with neither. He resembles the elevated protagonist of Senecan tragedy, but comes from a much less distinguished family background. His melancholy, although realistically motivated, assumes such grotesque proportions that he seems more villainous than virtuous. Also, Vindici resembles the allegorical figure of morality tradition but, because of the ambiguous connotation of his name, Revenge, his moral representation ;is uncertain. The paradox of Vindici as a protagonist who seems both virtuous and villainous is further demonstrated by his un orthodox conduct. Vindici's quest for revenge follows the traditional pattern of the English modification of Senecan revenge tragedy and is augmented by many of the ritualistic ■elements of the medieval morality play. This combination of literary traditions does not result in a reworking of old themes into a familiar pattern, but in the creation of a new and imaginative drama. As a revenge tragedy, the Ill play incorporates many of the familiar trappings, but elim inates others.^ There is the familiar call of the protag onist to revenge, an injustice which he cannot remedy by legal means. Also present is the emphasis on violence and blood, the prolonged delay, and the traditional masque j scene as the culmination of the horrors. The ghost is missing, but thunder and lightning serve the identical j purpose of impelling the protagonist onward to the perform-! ance of his appointed chores. i The trappings derived from medieval morality drama | serve to heighten the gloom and intensify the contrasting themes of virtue and Immorality, The setting of the play J has the gothic quality of medieval drama which adds an auraj of gross exaggeration as well as a tableau-like quality to ! the action. As already mentioned, the Duke and his family's: first appearance resembles the conventional parade of the 11 Seven Deadly Sins, Another element handed down from i medieval drama which is of interest in connection with the ambiguity of the protagonist is the apparent strain of 10 See Fredson Bowers, Elizabethan Revenge Tragedy , (Princeton, 19^0), pp. 132-138j and Clarence Boyer7 The Villain as Hero in Elizabethan Tragedy (London, 191^71 pp< 145_151> 1 11 The influence of Italianate novelle can also be de tected here as the lusty Duke and his family resemble the ; villainous members of sixteenth-century Italian nobility 1 so often depicted in Painter's Palace of Pleasure and other continental tales which had been translated into 1 English, 1 1 2 | 12 comedy In this play. Certainly vindici1s rattling of a skull has a touch of macabre humour, In general, the ac tion of the play has an unreal, ritualistic quality which Samuel Schoenbaum links with the Dance Macabre, or dance I of death, a medieval mixture of mirth and horror (Middle- ! i tonTs Tragedies, pp. 29~30)• i Initially, Vindici's reaction to this nightmarish , world in which all human perversion walks before him is to I lurk in. the shadows, moaning over his bereavement. But ! ! when his brother, Hippolito, brings him news of an oppor- ■ ! i tunity to enter the court as the pander Piato, he suddenly ' springs into the glaring light, sword at his hand, ready ! to initiate his single-handed rebellion against the foul j dukedom. On the surface, Vindici1s revolt follows the ' traditional pattern of revenge tragedy. He has a personal grievance against the Duke which cannot be righted in a 'court of law. He had delayed these nine years presumably because he has not been able to obtain admittance to the court, and as a result, he has wallowed in melancholic las situde, Now, at last, the opportunity to enter the court awaits, and Vindici seems cured of his depression and ready « l 12 For an analysis of the comic element in The Reveng er's Tragedy, see J, 0. Oates "The Comedy pf Metamorphosis 'in The Revenger's Tragedy," Buchnell Review, XI,i (1962), 38-53. Also, T. B. Tomlinson, A Study of Elizabethan Trag edy, pp. 114-126; and Richard Barker, Thomas Middleton, ■P. 73. 113 to take action. Vindici's motivation for action is aug mented by his father's recent death (for which he feels the! I Duke is indirectly responsible) and by the obvious need for | 1q | someone to take a stand against a corrupt forehead ^ of a j corrupt society. Vindici meets the usual delay in the mechanics of his ; revenge. Disguised as Piato he accepts the position as j pander to Lussurioso which provides him with an opportunity j to be near the Duke, He does not appear to have any clear : plan in mind., but is prepared to observe the way of things in the court, At this point, he acts the traditional role ; of the malcontent who will do anything for a price. He at-' tempts to arrange a liaison between Lussurioso and his own ! i sister. By such unconventional conduct Vindici seems to j have become corrupt himself, However, the assignment is j i one he must attempt to fulfill if he wishes to project his Irevenge and, furthermore, he has a genuine concern with virtue. His mother and sister are to him, since the death of Gloriana, the remaining symbols of virtue in the society, He is confident that a severe test of their loyalty will re affirm his faith in them. His attitude to other women is much the same as it is to men, but the only faults he knows 11 JIn notes to his edition'of the play, Richard 0. •Harrier observes the repeated use of the image of the fore head in connection with the Duke, which Harrier links with the concepts of honor, cuckoldry, and impudence, p. 4ll, :Act I.ii, note 1. 114] i of Castiga and Gratiana Is their feminine gullibility. As he tells his brother, ! i Women are apt, you know, to take false money, j But I dare stake my soule for these two creatures, j Onely excuse excepted, that they’le swallow j Because their sex is easy in beleefe, (I.i.102-106) His sister passes the test successfully and boxes Bus-' surioso's procurer on the ears, a castigation worthy of her^ name (Castiga). Vindici rejoices, saying, "lie love this < blowe for ever" (11.1.42). So, triumphant in his first encounter, he assays his mother, confident that she too ; will justify his faith in her. However, he is destined for' disappointment. Gratiana stumbles from the path of grace; ! the lure of money is too much for a poor woman. Vindicirs ' spirit is shaken, : Peter Murray suggests that Gratianars corruptibility is responsible for Vindici’s surrender to total disillusion-, ment and that he now turns to sadistic behavior (Gyri1 Tourneur, pp, 219-223). However, Vindici never abandons the quest for virtue. Ultimately he returns to his mother and shakes her into repentance.. In the final moments of the play, he confesses that the triumph of virtue in his mother and sister is the one comfort of his life. Out of loyalty to his virtuous sister, Vindici at tempts to distract Lussurioso from further pursuit of the girl by informing him of his half-brother Spurio’s incestu ous relationship with his stepmother, The consequence of 115 this piece of news, which further delays the revenge, adds i a new dimension of evil to the ducal family* Vindici is ] i able to see. their ignominious conduct in action. Now he J has reason to hate not only the Duke, but Lussurioso as j well. And, as he can clearly see, the entire generation, of vipers is lecherous and therefore constitute equally dangerous threats to whatever virtue remains in the society.; I At the climax of the play (ill.v), Vindici achieves | i the first part of his revenge. The murder of the Duke is J I undoubtedly grisly, but so is every other incident in this ; play. Vindici's conduct should not be considered as inap- i i propriate for revenge because it seems excessively morbid. 1 He merely returns venom with venom and kills the old man in | a situation which ironically parallels the death of Glori- ; ana— for in this case she (or rather, her skull) seduces and poisons the man who once did the same to her. A less spec tacular murder would have been a dramatic failure. In keep-* ing with the gothic melodramatic mood of the play it is es sential that the revenger overcome his victim in a sensa tional manner, just as Virtue must be spectacular in over coming Vice. With the death of the father, Vindici next plans to kill the son> and all succeeding sons (in- and out- of law) of the corrupt Duke in what amounts to a purge of the es tablished political hierarchy. Just as the Duke was once ,the head of the state, so the sons who take his place must 116 | be purged In an attack which can only be evaluated as out right rebellion against an established society. Vindici vowst "The Duke-dome wants a head, tho yet unknownej / As fast as they peepe up, lets cut 'em down" (ill.v.221-223) Vindici's quest for revenge is no longer a satisfac tory explanation for his actions in the later part of the . play. His justification for revenge is limited to the Duke > alone. Lussurioso, despite his menacing threats, does not actually harm or even meet with Castiga, Rather, it is the rank air and the human filth against which Vindici and ! his. brother rebel. In particular, they oppose human in jus- : tice. The Duke's poisoning of Gloriana was not punished legally. The appointed judges in Act I and II are willing i to placate the Duke by condoning the confessed crimes of j members of his family. Since justice is not to be found in the court, Vindici turns to heaven in protest, asking: ; Why do's not heaven turne black, or with a frowne | Undoo the world? Why do's not earth start up And strike the sinnes that tread uppon't? (11.1,252-255) He observes the corrupt Lussurioso, now the new Duke, and wonders why he is not struck down by divine retribution for his infamous conduct: 14 L. C. Salingar points out that Vindici's cynicism, loathing and disgust are not aimed so much at the individ ual characters as to the entire social order which they represent, "The Revenger's Tragedy," p. 402. 0 thou almighty patience I tis my wonder That such a fellow., impudent and wicked., Should not be cloven as he stood: Or with a secret winde burst openj Is there no thunder left, or ist kept up In stock for heavier vengeance? (IV, ii,199-204) i At this moment, thunder is heard and Vindici rejoices ' l at this indication that heaven sanctions further bloody re venge. "There it goes," he exclaims (204), and dashes off to impose his own justice as an enactment of heavenfs scourge of villainy. He murders Lussurioso while the thun- ■ der rages. He feels confident that this is a sign of heavenly affirmation for his bloody deeds for he says, "No , power is angry when the lust-ful die; / When thunder claps, heaven likes the tragedy" (V, Hi . 49-50) , ; The use of thunder can be linked to revenge tradition. < For it, like the conventional ghost, comes to urge the pro- ' tagonist into action. It is also a stark dramatic device which is consistent with the mood of the play, Further- jmore, the thunder and other brilliant sky effects which are ;used in this play do suggest that Vindici actually has di vine sanction for the acts upon which he is engaged,, and reinforces Vindici's tentative allegorical representation as the Vengeance of God. Supernatural effects, however, in : Jacobean plays, although meaningful, are often difficult to interpret. Hamlet, for example, has considerable diffi culty deciding whether the ghost is actually his father or a devilish spirit. In Vindici's case the same doubt per 118 sists. Vindici believes that he has heaven’s approval, but if Vindici has succumbed to religious melancholy, these are signs made by the devil. For this reason, Vindici's final bloody actions do not clearly demonstrate either vil lainy or heroism, because horror and glory are both pre- : sent,1^ Vindici’s revolution against an entire society is dev-' astating. Only a few survive, for nearly all are caught up in the public debauchery. After the Duke’s body is dis- ; f I covered one of the noblemen who is accused of neglecting j his master's safety confesses and is sentenced to death. j Vindici mutters aside, "You've sentencde well" (V.i.128). However, in Vindici's eyes, the crime for which the man deserves punishment is not that he was disloyal to the Duke, but that he assisted in the arrangements for an as signation, Other nobleman perish as well, for they were !already beginning their suits for advancement from the new i 'Duke, Lussurioso, As for the remaining heirs, Vindici has .no need to attack them since they annihilate each other in a jealous struggle for supremacy. The revenge tradition, since it is based upon violent protest, frequently gives rise to protagonists who experi- i '^Fredson Bowers feels that Vindici's revenge is not |acceptable in terms of the code but "springs from a mali cious desire for retaliation," Revenge Tragedy, p. 132. Clarence Boyer agrees, The Villain, p. 151.. On the other hand, Peter Murray, Cyril Tourneur, p. 211, finds Vindici's, imotivation well-founded. ence intense feelings of isolation and alienation, if not actual exile. Furthermore, their quasi-legal acts of re bellion against the social order are likely to lead to vic timization by elements within the society which they op- j I pose. However, as long as the protagonist contests with a i i single individual or select group of individuals, such as Hamlet's pursuit of Claudius, his exile and victimization have full sympathetic appeal to the remainder of society i and his death may be considered a victory, thereby offer- I I ing some consolation to the tragic hero. Vindici, like other revenge protagonists, experiences ' i a sense of isolation and alienation. His exile is in fact both physical and imaginative, for he is an outcast from court as well as a melancholy social critic. His revenge i plots serve to exile him further because of the necessity for secrecy. Vindicirs position on the periphery of soci- ] ety is maintained until the final moments of the play when ! I he unmasks himself, confesses his deeds, and awaits public I : applause, exclaiming, "None else ifaith, my Lord--nay, twas :well managde" (V.iii.105). However, he is not awarded the victory he anticipated ' for the few survivors turn against him and condemn him to * speedy execution, making him the victim of their wrath. ; His exile, his spiritual alienation, is now final and com- pplete. At first Vindici is incredulous and asks, "Heart, :wast not for your good, my Lord?" (108). 120 To which Antonioj the new ruler, replies that the exe cution will be forthcoming because., "You that would murder j him would murder me" (110), In other words, any man who kills a head of state., no matter how justified his action I may seem, has committed an act of treason and endangered j i i the public welfare and, because he may commit another such | act at another time, he must be executed to insure the public safety. The Revenger1 s . Tragedy, therefore, concludes with an l apparent demonstration of the triumph of justice, morality, j and political order in the punishment of Vindici, the rebel ! homicide, Oertainly the tradition of morality drama which is echoed so strongly throughout this play would demand such a conclusion. Also, the statement of a moral at the ending of a play was a popular English convention, Further-^ more, Vindici's behavior, justified as it may have seemed ;to him, was still outrageous in the eyes of the Jacobeans I who distrusted insurrection and feared'regicide, However, the text of the play leaves considerable doubt whether Vin dici ’s execution really does represent a triumph of public virtue over individual vice, i Certainly Vindici does not die completely reconciled i .to such a fact. He is satisfied that he has completed his revenge and he mocks the ironic fact that he betrayed him- 'self with his own confession: 121 j . . , --are we not revengde? Is there one enemy left alive amongst those? 'Tis time to die,, when we are our selves our foes. ! When murd[r]ers shut deeds closse, this curse does j seale 1 em; i If none disclose ’em, they themselves reveale 'em! I This murder might have slept in tonglesse brasse,— j But for our selves, — and the world dyed an asse, (113-119) Vindici gives, however, no suggestion that he repents his bloody deeds; rather the opposite, for he shows that , he is proud of the murders he has committed.- He does rec- I ognize, however, that by making his confession he is no J I longer to be judged by the private law which he has been j following (the understood law which tolerated private re- j I i venge and, in Vindicirs eyes, was authorized by heaven), I but he is now subject to judgment by the laws of the soci- j ety which he has sought to re-establish as a basis of true i justice. If he has been successful In his purgation of po- , litical corruption then the law has become meaningful once •more, and according to this just law all murderers must die. '.However, Vindici has already discovered that the same kind : of politic justice which prevailed before his revenge will prevail once more. He is to be executed, not because of his multiple murders, but because he is a threat to the new leader of the society. Furthermore, if evil has been purged, then Vindici can hope that the society will rebuild under new and vigorous leadership, just as Hamlet could look forward with confi dence to Fortinbras' administration. However, the dukedom 122 will now be controlled by a man of uncertain strength and ability, for Antonio is an old man upon whom the affairs of state will weigh heavily. Vindici recognizes this fact im mediately, for he and Hippolito give their congratulations to Antonio with a certain amount of reserved enthusiasm. i In the dialogue which occurs before their confession, they ; say: i i HIPPOLITO. Now the hope | Of Italy lyes in your reverend yeares, i i VINDICI, Your hayre will make the silver age agen, j When there was fewer but more honest men, ANTONIO. The burdenrs weighty and will presse age downe May I so rule that heaven keepe the crowne. (90-9^) ; Not only is Antonio an aged man, but he is also a widower i l6 i who cannot hope to establish a new and wholesome dynasty, j So Vindici, although he says nothing, may well ques- > tion the future security of the society he has saved, In i his final lines, he accepts his execution without rancor. I He is satisfied that at least two members of the society who are virtuous survive. As he tells Hippolito, "We have ynough, / Yfaith, we’re well, our Mother turnd, our Sister true" (129-130), The play ends with a prayer rather than a positive statement of affirmation: "Pray heaven their blood may wash 16 | Peter Murray suggests in addition that Antonio may 'have been corrupt himself because he is reputed to be ambi tious and stands to profit directly by disposing of Vindici, 'Cyril Tourneur, pp. 223-228, away all treason" (134). The reference to "heaven" seems ironic here. Earlier "heaven" had thundered in approval of Vindici's revenge. Yet at his execution there is celestial silence. Vindici surrenders* therefore., to man-made laws and not to divine justice, So Vindici1s deeds of heroism* vengeance and purgation of evil* which have been accom plished by acts of rebellion* are rewarded with alienation , and victimization by a society which may or may not have affirmed virtue over vice. The ultimate resolution of The Revenger's Tragedy rests upon the superficial triumph of good and the temporary re- i duction of evil. Such a tentative resolution must inevit- ! ably weaken the stature of the heroic protagonist. A tra ditional hero achieves a victory* even though he may die as a consequence of his acts. Vindici also seems to have achieved a victory. He has destroyed his enemies* purged :the corruption of society* and confirmed his mother and 'sister in the path of chastity. He has performed like a heroic protagonist* true to his vows* ruthless in revenge* i confirmed by heaven. However* the paradox remains that he ■is actually a man of low rank whose grotesque murders :alienate public sympathy and lead to his condemnation as a ;criminal and a potential threat to the society he has saved. Instead of the rewards which he anticipated* he receives !the punishment of a villain, Such a combination of atti tudes toward the protagonist must necessarily cast great 124 doubt on his stature. Is Vindici the Hero-Avenger or the Villain-Murderer? Among the scholars who have pondered this question no consistent pattern of agreement emerges. Because of the obvious links with medieval drama, some scholars consider j i this play to be a moral allegory and, therefore, suggest | that Vindici meets a fate appropriate for a protagonist who has been corrupted by the world in which he lives and so 17 dies repentant. However, not all scholars see a clear- cut relationship between moral values of Christian allegory! ! l8 and their representation in The.Revenger's Tragedy. One ' of the most interesting comments is expressed by Predson Bowers who points out that Vindici’s inability to recognize 17 Peter Murray, for example, finds that the conclusion of The Revenger's Tragedy is in accord with the Christian doctrine of sin and redemption in a fallen world, Cyril Tourneur, p. 247, Irving Ribner sees a definite moral jstructure in this play, Jacobean Tragedy, pp. 75-86, .Robert Ornstein feels that ethical design is present in the play but suggests that the moral perception of the play wright is distorted so that malicious fate operates through human psychology to thwart both sensualist and revenger, Moral Vision, pp. 112-115, Peter Lisca, on the other hand, finds that the play does not portray a battle of good and ,evil, but "the intestinal division of evil itself," "The •Revenger's Tragedy: A Study in Irony," Philological Quar- iterlyT XXXVIII (April 1959), 245, ■ ^L. 0. Salinger sees the play as a termination point 'in the influence of medieval tradition and doubts that the allegorical elements have a specific meaning, for he can find no suggestion of a scheme of moral-social values which gives any compensation for Vindici1s fall, "The Revenger's ■ Tragedy," pp. 427-422. T. B. Tomlinson also sees a move ment away from simple moral attitudes, Elizabethan and 1 Jacobean Tragedy, p. 111, 125 I himself as a villain is a rare occurrence in English drama, and for this reason Bowers suggests that the play is an ob jective study of the protagonist which leaves the evalua- j tion up to the audience itself (Revenge Tragedy, p. 13^).^j Bowers' suggestion that the audience make its own evaluation of Vindici as hero or villain is the most prac- j tical solution to the problem. The play is a blending of j so many contrasting elements, ranging from the partially J f realistic psychology of revenge tragedy to the abstract j symbolism of medieval morality drama that a clear-cut ; choice is impossible. The Revenger's Tragedy is a dispas- ; sionate picture of the world as the playwright saw it, a j world full of corruption in which justice, human justice, j i is also corrupt. Hovering over his indictment of mankind is the playwright's lingering faith in the possibility of virtue, but even that, if severely tested, seems vulnerable to corruption. The playwright does not seem to be so much a moralist as he is a moral observer of life. He neither 'praises nor condemns Vindici. Therefore, the most elaborate study of the text cannot reveal a .positive answer to the enigma of the identity of Vindici--hero or villain? The only certain fact is that ■his stature is considerably reduced through paradox. C. Oates believes there is no moral whatsoever ■indicated in this play. "The Comedy of Metamorphosis," p. 52, 126 Vindici appears to be both villain and hero, yet his per formance does not fulfill the tradition for either type. | He fails as a heroic avenger because he is not a superior J individual who defends society, but a melancholy exile who rebels against it. Nor is he a villain because he acts { with the sole intention of vengeance against degenerate j men and because he still retains faith in the possibility ' of virtue. However, his exile or spiritual alienation be- j comes so overwhelming that he loses all rapport with the j community consciousness, and the community likewise rejects i I him as their champion. So his efforts lack glory, his aura j fades, and his stature is diminished. CHAPTER VI THE DUCHESS OE MALFI — ---------------------------------------------------— — . i i The title Duchess of Malfi (l6l3-l6l4) suggests that | the dramatist,, John Webster., had in mind a play concerned with the fate of a traditional epic-tragic heroine who nobly serves her duchy until she is brought to misfortune either through chance, error, or some flaw in her character i i and dies repentant, avowing the transcendant power of Jus- j j tice and virtue.. Paradoxically, however, the Duchess is ; I not concerned with matters of state, but with affairs of | heart. Also, although the Duchess is the chief protago- j nist of the drama, she is not the only one. Her contribu- , tion to the forward action of the play is limited, as she ■ : is brutally murdered in Act IV. Antonio, a steward to whom' ' she is secretly married, and Bosola, a malcontented murder er, must also be considered as protagonists as they strive to promote her cause. From the combination of such atypi cal factors, the statures of the protagonists become ambig- ; uous, and not one of them fully qualifies as a traditional ly epic-tragic hero. To Webster, however, the possibility of heroic action I 127 : 128 seems to evolve primarily from the courageous actions of Individuals, not kings,^ who struggle to preserve their own personal integrity rather than affirm community values in a cruel and evil world, Thus the Duchess, despite the | lack of physical, prowess which leaves her helpless against i her assailants, emerges as a uniquely heroic character. She is heroic because of the magnificence of her defiance j against an unjust social and moral authority; a defiance which cannot be broken under the most extreme torture. I After Shakespeare, John Webster is the seventeenth- j century dramatist whose plays are most often regarded with i admiration because he, like Shakespeare, is able to make j his characters emerge from traditional stereotypes and take; on a vitality of their own. Webster, like Shakespeare, j achieves this in part through his poetic genius and in partj through his own keen perception of human emotions. The Duchess of Malfi has many flaws, which range from inconsis tencies in plotting (especially in the last act) to lines i In The Tragic Satire of John Webster, Travis Bogard analyzes Webster's understanding of the heroic, in similar 'terms and explains that Webster saw the sham of the great :figures of Renaissance society at the same time that he saw certain magnificence in their struggle to assert their ’individuality in a difficult world (Berkeley, 1955)* P* 99. !Webster’s interest in the blind instinctive drives of men ;is observed by Rupert Brooke in John Webster and the Eliza bethan Drama (London, 1916), p, 158, Gunnar Boklund in The 'Duchess of Malfi, Sources, Themes, Characters (Cambridge, 'Mass,, 1962), writes of the play as a representation of „the unhappy condition of man in a corrupt world, p. 168. 129 | borrowed from other writers (notably Sidney and Montaigne), j and consequently the relatively unevenness of Webster's j dramaturgy cannot be ignored, But the heroic figure of the j I i Duchess herselfj a woman who loses every battle because of | her vulnerability to human passions, dominates the tragedy : and makes it a vivid and exciting work of art. 1 In his characterization of the Duchess as well as j other characters in the play, Webster combines traditional ; i material with creative imagination. First he presents a ! i stereotype image of the protagonist, and then subsequently j he reveals a spontaneous human quality that seems to be in ! direct contradiction with the original facade. As a re- j suit, these characters appear to have greater individuality: and more realistic emotional experience than any of the ! 2 i protagonists examined heretofore, Antonio, Bussy, Yindici! 2 Most scholars recognize Webster's fusion of conven tion with realism, Inga-Stina Eleblad considers it to be an impurity of Webster's dramaturgy, but her criticism is 'not generally supported, "The 'Impure Art’ of John Web- 'ster," Review of English Studies, new series, IX (1955)j 253-267. Reprinted in Elizabethan Dramat Modern Essays in .Criticism, ed. R. J, Kaufmann (New York, 1961), pp. 250-263, There Is, however, a variety of opinion on Webster's atti-_ tude towards his characters. Clifford Leech, for example, believes that Webster was primarily concerned with natural istic character portrayal, and Leech gives illustrations of ,Webster's deliberate adjustment of his prose style to the feelings of his characters, John Webster: A Critical Study :(London, 1951)> p. 61, Leech has a more recent book, Web- ■ster: The Duchess of Malfi (Great Neck, N.Y., 19&3)» which is merely a textbook reworking of his earlier work. For :this reason, all future references are made to the earlier ;study. In The Jacobean Drama, 4th ed. (New York, 1961), ;Una Ellis-Fermor stresses Webster's use of personalized 130 are all made more human by their melancholy nature and by their suffering, but they remain closely attached to the conventional types from which they are descended. Webster's Duchess is modelled after two traditional types, both of which contrast with her own personality. On the one hand, she is an elevated heroic figure, the pro- ! totype of an ideal queen and mistress, and, on the other hand, she resembles the lascivious protagonist of Italianate I noyelle. Basically, however, the Duchess is a woman drawn 1 from Webster's observation of seventeenth-century life who knows love and can endure pain, Hie Duchess is the temporal i ruler of the ducy of Malfi, and at all times demonstrates ; i the regal demeanor appropriate to this role. She is ob viously concerned about the conduct required of a prince i for she says that she is making her will "as 'tis fit : I ' ^ " ; I 'characterization to the extent that she believes Webster 'endowed his characters with inner life, p, 175* Travis Bogard, on the other hand, finds Webster's concern to be less with realistic effects than with the symbolic quality of his characters for, Bogard asserts, Webster was more in terested in society in general than in individual man, Tragic Satire, pp, 36-37. Bogard points out that although the characters are not allegorical types, they do suggest ■precept and example. Also, Bogard believes that the charac-^ iters do not change or develop during the course of the play ; because Webster intended them to have a consistent attitude of defiance toward the world and, for this reason, they be come representative rather than individual, pp. 41-42. Gunnar Boklund also stresses the importance of the combina tion of type characters and psychological motivation, but 'believes that the impact of the drama comes from the human rather than the psychological aspect of the characters, The Duchess of Malfi, pp, 136-147, 131 Princes should, Later, when events threaten her safety, she tells her brother Ferdinand, "whether I am doomb1d to live or die, / I can doe both like a Prince" (III,ii,78-79)* However, the Duchess indicates early in the play that she | is more concerned with womanly matters than administration i to the welfare of the community. She assigns that job to ! | her stewart, Antonio. As far as practical leadership is ! concerned, she does little or nothing beyond setting the style. As she jokingly confesses, "When I wax gray, I shall have all the Court / Powder their haire, with Arras, j to be like me" (III,ii,67-68). The Duchess is also a wotnan of considerable beauty, I an attribute which Elizabethans interpreted as a sign of j inner virtue. In the opening scene Antonio describes her j so idealistically that she seems comparable with the ideal | courtly lady who was praised in love sonnets and described 1 I las a model of perfection in Renaissance courtesy books such 4 as Baldassare Gastiglione's The Book of The Courtier, 'Antonio contrasts the Duchess’ perfection with her brothers ■whom he believes are of "different temper": ^F. L. Lucas, ed., The Duchess of Malfi by John Web ster (New York, 1927), 1.1.427, ’ This is the edition used here and all line citations refer to it. ^Trans. Sir Thomas Hoby (London, 1928), Book III, The heroines of Shakespeare’s romantic comedies appear modelled :on Castiglione’s precepts, For example: Portia in The Mer chant of Venice, Rosalind in As You Like It, and Beatrice ■and Hero in Much Ado About Nothing. 132 You never fix'd your[r] eye on three falre Meddals, Cast in one figure, of so different temper: For her discourse, It Is so full of Rapture, You onely will begin, then to be sorry When she doth end her speech: and wish (in wonder) She held it lesse vaine-glory, to talke much, ; Then your pennance, to heare her: whilst she speakes, > She throwes upon a man so sweet a looke, That it were able raise one to a Galliard i That lay in a dead palsey; and to doate : On that sweet countenance: but in that looke, ; There speaketh so divine a continence, ; As cuts off all lascivious, and vaine hope. Her dayes are practis'd in such noble vertue, J That sure her nights (nay more her very Sleepes) | Are more in Heaven, then other Ladies Shrifts, , i Let all sweet Ladies break their flattering Glasses, j And dresse themselves in her. (1,1.192-209) I i Although Antonio's observations are basically accurate, i the Duchess is a more complex personality than Antonio imag- • ines. When she first appears, following Antonio's hymn of ! i praise, she seems to be everything he has admired. She is I modest and polite to her brothers who demand that she re main a widow, but as soon as they depart, she disobeys jtheir orders and confesses her love for Antonio, a man of much lower station. Such conduct was not acceptable in .Renaissance courtly circles and therefore the Duchess ap pears to be a woman whose beauty belies her virtue; a woman whose capacity for passion exceeds her ability to reason, Webster derived this aspect of her character from an earlier representation of the Duchess of Malfi in a story •printed in William Painter's Pallace of Pleasure, a trans lation and adaptation via French of an Italian noyelle 133 which is actually based on a historical event. Character istically, novelle tales are concerned with extramarital liaisons, lust, sexual jealousy, violent murder; and they usually terminate with the punishment of the guilty of- 6 ■ ! fenders. Most Renaissance moralists regarded the prota- ! gonists of Italianate novelle as notoriously immoral person^ who indulged in lust with license and committed adultery with gusto. Consequently, the French adaptor-translators \ j of the novelle and their English successors hoped to deter i 1 1 ' T ’ 1 1 ’ ' ' ’ ! prospective sinners by demonsPrating the dreadful fate which y befalls those persons who allow passion to dominate reason, j Painterrs Duchess is typical of the protagonists of j ^The Pallace of Pleasure Beautified (1569), II, Nouel ' xiii at the Huntington Library, Also, ed. Joseph Jacobs, i 4th ed. (London, 1890). The page citations are taken from i the more recent edition, Painter's work is essentially a j translation from a work in French by Belleforest (1st story ‘ volume II of Histoires traglcques), which in turn is an jadaptation from Bandello 1 s Novelle I, 26. Also, in the in troduction to The Duchess of Malfi, F-. L. Lucas suggests ithat the story has a historical source, but that there is no evidence that Webster knew of it. pp. 6-17. 6 For a discussion of the characteristics of the Ital ianate novelle, see Margaret Schlaugh’s Antecedents of the English Hovel l400-l600 (London, 1963), pp. 138-148; 'Madeleine Doran's Endeavors of Art (Madison, Wis., 19^-5) . > PP* 133-13^ > and Fredson Bower's Elizabethan Revenge Trag edy (Princeton, 1940), pp, 47-50. 7 John Reynolds, who is responsible for the source of Middleton's Changeling, the last play to be considered here, was so wedded to his didactic theories that he gave his volume of histories of sex and murder a sesquipedalian title which begins: The Triumphs of Gods Revenge, Against •the crying and execrable Sinne of murther: or His Miraculous ■discoveries and severe punishments thereof . i ^ (162l). 134 novelle tradition.. An attractive young widow with a child, she wearies of living alone and determines to find a man with whom she can satisfy her sexual desires. She decides upon her stewart, Antonio. Although the Duchess in this instance is not guilty of adultery., she is guilty of al- i ( j lowing passion to direct her to a secret marriage beneath i her station. The marriage is apparently a happy one and j several children are born to the couple. However, Painter { I repeatedly stresses that, although love is a noble emotion j if reason has its place, it is not a virtue if the love relationship is based on sex (p. 24). The Duchess1 love | i for Antonio (even after many years of marriage) is primar- j lly sexual. For example, during her third pregnancy she decides to make a pilgrimage to Loretto where her husband | ! is hiding. Painter comments that, by going to visit a ! shrine in order to satiate her sensual appetite, the Dueh- 1 ess is committing a sin (p. 30), Nonetheless, although !Painter makes clear that the Duchess is sinful because of I her inappropriate marriage and her lascivious nature, he • does portray her as a basically good woman who genuinely loves her husband, for he confesses, ' ’This good Lady, hear ing her husband's discourse, uncertain what to do, wept ■bitterly, . , (p. 23). Webster's Duchess has inherited the sympathetic quali- ■ ties of her predecessor, but in addition Webster has given .her an inner strength which holds back tears. Despite the ~ ~ ~ 135| similarities in plot structure., Webster's Duchess never ap pears to be a sexually obsessed woman whose error in judg- | ment stands as a warning to others. Instead, Webster pro- ! I vides additional motivation to justify her conduct. She isi j not irresponsibly passionate. Her love for Antonio has the. qualities of "the sweet and ennobling longing of the soul" ' which Lawrence Babb ascribes to the restrained and reason- ; I i able concept of love which was acceptable to Renaissance 1 i 8 ! morality. Prom Painter's Duchess she has acquired a i i healthy sexual appetite, but she is also a woman to whom j love and respect for her husband transcends physical attrac tion. I I ! The courtship scene (I.i) is conducted in the digni- i fled parlance of the courtly love tradition, Antonio is i summoned to an audience with the Duchess, and he assumes a ■ ^ ! properly gracious and submissive attitude towards her. i j She asks him pointed questions which he answers properly. Only then does she introduce the topic of marriage. This |method of courtship follows English propriety rather than ,Italian manners, for courtly lovers seldom spoke of mar c s riage. The Duchess stresses that her admiration for Anto- O The Elizabethan Malady (East Lansing, Mich., 1951)j p. 154, Q Although Painter's Duchess marries Antonio, she does so with the frank admission that she uses marriage as a mask to cover her lust, Webster never speaks of lust as !the basis of her love. 136 nio is based primarily on his sterling qualitiesj for he is to her,, "a corripleat man" (500) . The dialogue between them contains faint sexual innuendoes, but the Duchess remains essentially the woman Antonio has admired whose days of I widowhood have been chaste in all respects. In terms of Renaissance morality sexual attraction need not be vicious j I if it is treated in a properly restrained and idealized manner. The Duchess gives every indication that the basis of her proposal to Antonio is not prompted by sexual need, but by reasoned respect, j Thus the Duchess resolves to spend her life with the ! man she loves. In later scenes their union is obviously | i happy and fruitful. Act Ill.i, in. particular, shows a married couple joking and playing in a perfectly normal : i 10 1 and natural manner. Also, the bird imagery which Webster’ I frequently uses to describe Antonio and the Duchess aug ments the picture of genuine lovers whose unhappiness is 11 ;caused by outside forces. As the Duchess tells Antonio, 10 | Clifford Leech cites this scene because it contains dialogue in which Webster's prose style is adjusted to the .'feeling of the character, John Webster, p. 6l. ! L. Lucas traces the images and phrases in the 'passage above (as well as many other passages in the play) ;to Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia , The Duchess of Malfi, p. 182 ; and pp. 133-212.- Hiram Hadyn, in The Counter-Renaissance (New York, 1950), suggests that Sidney was.also an advocate !of spontaneous love and quotes the lines from Arcadia, "the :sudden occasion called Loye, & that never staid to aske Reasons leave," p. 561. Thus Webster's borrowings are en riched by his own poetic imagination. 137 The Birds, that live i1 th field On the wilde benefit of Nature, live Happier than we; for they may choose thier Mates., And carrol their sweet pleasures to the Spring. (Ill,v.25-28) Consequently the adaptations Webster made in the char acter of the Duchess from his source in Painter's story., I indicate that he himself was sympathetic to the idea of | natural, spontaneous love which was wholesome and good in ( i its own right. The Duchess' decision to marry the man she j loves need not be lust, irresponsibility, or sin, but may ! 1 be instead the courageous act of a person who follows her j heart rather than the mores of the society in which she ' l 12 lives. j Although the Duchess of Malfi is derived from conyen- I tional types (the Prince, the courtly lady, and the lustful1 12 The controversy among current scholars over the 'guilt or innocence of the Duchess in the matter of her mar riage is long and verbose. Most scholars do find her guil- ity to some extent of inordinate passion. Clifford Leech .feels she is guilty beca.use she violated the social conven tion which discouraged remarriage of widows and forbade marriage between persons of different social degree, John ' Webster, pp, 69-78, Prank Wadsworth claims that the con ventions did tolerate remarriage, and that the difference in degree between the Duchess and Antonio was also accept able because he is described as a man of honesty and vir tue, "Webster's Duchess of Malfi in the Light of Contempo rary Ideas on Marriage and Remarriage," Philological Quar terly, XXXV (October 1956), 394-407. M, C. Bradbrook finds 'the Duchess guilty by the fact of original sin Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge, 1960), p. :209• E. M, W, Tillyard believes that Webster, whatever ihis religious beliefs and his sympathy for the Duchess, 'could not free her from the context of sin and atonement which was the philosophy of the times, The Elizabethan eWorld Picture (New. York, 1944), pp. 16-T8, . ~ "71 __ 138 widow of Italianate novelle)* she is also an individualized human being* In keeping with heroic tradition* she is an j elevated* idealized character in regard to her social posi-j tion* manners* and general personality traits. In keeping ! with novelle tradition* she is a woman of passion, Para- ; doxically* she is also an everywoman whose greatest concern i i is with domestic relationships rather than matters of state) I and this comparatively minor concern tends to lower her ; I princely stature to the social norm. She* herself* laments; the gulf between her common human feelings and lofty socialj position when she cries* "The misery of us that are borne i great! --We are forc'd to wo[o] because None dare wo[o] us"| (I.1,507-508). j Nonetheless* she does have heroic qualities, She is j noble to the highest degree* and this nobility is a natural' adjunct to her personality as well as a conventional attri-' j bute of her social status. Her native passion is a posi tive* even heroic* trait* not a flaw. The combination of the princely heroine and the warm-hearted woman in her leads her to assert her own individual integrity in a courageous, rebellion against family and society* knowing the tremen dous risk involved. She compares herself to a soldier on i ,a battlefield and vows* , . . if all my royall kindred Lay in my way unto this marriage: ' Ill'd make them my low foote-steps: And even now* ; Even in this hate (as men in some great battailes By apprehending danger* have atchiev’d 139 Almost Impossible actions: I have heard Soldiers say so),, So I, through frights., and threatenings, will assay This dangerous venture. (I.i.382-389) The Duchess knows that her decision to marry Antonio will virtually exile her from her family because the mar riage and children born of it must remain secret. As she j tells her maid., Cariola, . . . wish me good speede : For I am going into a wildernesse, Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clewe To be my guide, (I. i*403-406) When her brothers hear rumors of the marriage, they 1 are enraged and send the malcontent Bosola to act as a spy 1 1 i on their sister. Eventually Ferdinand himself comes to ' confirm his suspicions. The Duchess, despite her high of fice, is powerless against her brother’s wrath, Duke Per- ; i dinand possesses political power, and the Cardinal controls i - religious authority. Together they determine the concepts of justice and virtue in the social milieu. By marrying |Antonio, the Duchess has disobeyed their orders. There- 'fore, her brothers consider themselves justified in punish ing their sister for unconventional conduct which has led IQ to a loss of reputation. J i 1 Q i -’ Ferdinand's motives for his mistreatment of the .Duchess are never fully explained by Webster. At times he 'seems jealous, at times interested in her wealth, but he ■seems most irritated by her loss of reputation through an .unsuitable marriage (III.ii.153-158). In' the source, Painter emphatically states that Ferdinand vows revenge .against the Duchess because she married beneath her station ;(p. 32). Fredson Bowers also attributes Ferdinand’s mo- Ferdinand and the Oardinal are Machiavellian figures of evil, Ferdinand., no matter how enraged he may be with the Duchess, has.insufficient provocation to punish her in the barbarous manner of subsequent scenes. In fact, after the DuchessT death, Ferdinand becomes so obsessed with the I realization of his guilt that he succumbs to melancholy i adust (an extraordinarily intense form of melancholy) and loses his sanity. The Cardinal also is an exceedingly cor rupt person who keeps a mistress whom he murders when he j fears that he cannot trust her silence, j Thus the Duchess1 marriage is an act of rebellion by I a woman against male domination. It is also the revolt of | an individual against unjust and arbitrary social mores. The victimization which she suffers is precipitated in parti by a society which reacts against a nonconformist (as in lthe case of Vindici), but it is also provoked by a corrupt political and moral order which retaliates against a de- ifenseless and essentially virtuous Individual. 1 After Ferdinand's confrontation with the Duchess, she becomes fully aware of her impotence against his determined will and she recognizes the certainty of a terrible future. The passionate element of the Duchess’ personality (which i in earlier times is demonstrated by her deep love for Anto •tives in Webster's play to revenge, but he adds that Ferdi nand's revenge Is villainous, Revenge Tragedy, p. 178." 141 nio and her courageous decision to marry him) now takes the form of a profound melancholy which is aggravated by her concern for the safety of her husband and her children. This passion of melancholy, like the passion of love., is consistent with her personality. Although,, in terms of • l i Jacobean moral theory,, the Duchess' susceptibility to pas- | sion, be it love or melancholy, is questionable, Webster : does not ever allow her to be ruled by passion alone. No matter how generous her love or how profound her grief, theI Duchess is always mindful of reason, As such, her melan- j choly becomes another manifestation of her extraordinary j i4 i courage and integrity. I The Duchess' native temperament resembles that of the I intellectual type who exemplifies the Aristotelian concept of melancholy (as, for example, Bussy D'Ambois). She pos- | sesses superior intellectual and imaginative powers as well I jas the ability to withstand adversity with great self-con- i ;trol. The first symptoms of aggravation of her melancholy nature become apparent when she sends Antonio to Loretto ;for safety. Fearfully she tells him of the dreams which have tormented her with ominous portents of the future, i l4 ; The Duchess' melancholy, as depicted by Webster, 'has no apparent physiological symptoms although, as Law rence Babb explains in The Elizabethan Malady, Webster's •presentations of melancholy in.his characters show that he •possessed familiarity with the physiological, pharmaceuti cal, and psychiatric material circulating in Jacobean scien- 1tific circles, p, 70, 142 j These dreams have double significance. Not only do they foretell the future., but they underline the Duchess' grow ing anxiety. Soon the sadness of the parting, combined with the imminent threat of disaster., begin to take their toll. Left alone for a moment, the Duchess reveals her j deep depression with the lament, "My Laurell is all j withered" (ill.v.108). When she is imprisoned by Bosola the Duchess' melan choly reaches profound depths. But with the poise of the j t Aristotelian melancholic, she expresses a silent acceptance; of her grief. Bosola watches her and observes to Ferdinand! i that: She's sad, as one long us'd to 'ti and she seemes Rather to welcome the end of misery Then shun its a behavior so noble, As gives a majestie to adversitie. (IV.1.4-7) j Ferdinand and Bosola agree that Her mellancholly seemes to be fortifide With a strange disdaine . , . , , . and this restraint I (Like English Mastiffes, that grow fierce with tying) Makes her too passionately apprehend The pleasures she's kept from. (12-17) This individual quality of "disdaine" or "restraint" is dramatized in the following moments, The Duchess is able to view without hysteria a dead man's hand and "the ;artificial figures of Antonio, and his children; appearing as they were dead" (lV.i.76). Convinced that her loved .ones are dead, she awaits the mercy of death. This wish jis not fearful, but positive and passionate. She is en- 1^3 raged, when a Servant wishes her a long life for she tells him, with the outspoken frankness of a human being who has been forced to suffer intolerably and is helpless to strike| out against her enemies, that she wishes he would be hanged! for such a curse. Then, for a moment she lapses into sad- ' ness and says, "I shall shortly grow one / Of the miracles | of pitty: I'll goe pray . , Then Suddenly, her spirit j is rekindled and she affirms, "No, / I'll go curse / . . . I could curse the Starres" (IV.i,111-115)• To which Bosolaj replies: "Looke you, the Starres shine still" (120). This j statement contains the deepest of ironies, the proof which Jacobean protagonists discover again and again: that effec tive individual action against organized social forces is I 15 ■ impossible, : \ Ferdinand tells Bosola that it is his intention to torture the Duchess until she collapses in despair ! |(XV.i.l4o), which is the ultimate consequence of unnatural melancholy. He torments his sister with the songs of mad- •men, but the Duchess regards the noise as a means of easing some of her own tensions, for she exclaims, Indeed I thanke him: nothing but noyce, and folly Can keepe me in my right wits, whereas reason And silence, make me starke mad, (lV.ii,6-8) ; Diversions such as these were traditionally regarded 15 Clifford Leech calls this the most complete asser tion in Jacobean drama of man's impotence and the imperson- !ality of cosmic powers, John Webster, p. 83. 144 as a means of curing melancholy. The Duchess looks for further diversions when she asks Carlola to tell her some "dismall Tragedy"; and she even makes jokes with Bosola,, disguised as an executioner, when she lightly asks about i her tomb, "Let me be a little merry — / Of what stuffe ' wilt thou make it?" (IV,ii,148-149), | Therefore Ferdinand *s and Bosola's tortures fail to bring the Duchess to despair. Her attitude remains one of restraint. Her grief is not assuaged, nor is she driven to the madness of melancholy adust. In her final dialogue j with Bosola, he coarsely points out that she is nothing but corruptible flesh, soon to rot in her grave. She insists, however, that she will always remain essentially herself, I a being of dignity, a duchess, She begins by asking rhe- | torically, "Who am I?" and Bosola replies: j i Thou art a box of worme-seede, at best, but a : slavatory of greene mummey: what's this flesh? a little cruded milke, phantasticall puffe-pastes our bodies are weaker than those paper prisons boyes use to keepe flies in: more contemptible: since ours is to preserve earth-wormes: didst thou ever see a Larke in a cage? Such is the soule in the body; this world is like her little turfe of grasse, and the Heaven ore our heades, like her looking glasse, onely gives us a miser able knowledge of the small compasse of our prison. Duch. Am not I, thy Duchesse? 145 Bos. Thou art some great woman sure,, for riot begins to sit on thy fore-head (clay in gray haires) twenty yeares sooner, then on a merry milkemaydes, Thou sleep'st worse, then if a mouse should be forc'd to take up her lodging in a cats eare; a little infant, that breedes it's teeth, should it lie with thee, would crie out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bed-fellow, i i Duchess, I am Duchesse of Malfy still, (IV.ii., 122-139) i And so she dies, kneeling before her strangler, but she remains unbowed, The Duchess' stature is not reduced : by her melancholy. Rather, it is elevated to noble heights! Nonetheless, courageous though she is at heart, the Duch- : ess is totally-defeated in her efforts to lead an independ-! f i ent life with the man she loves in a world of corrupt man- made Justice, i The Duchess' death in Act IV means that the challenge , < for heroic action must be transferred to some other protag-, onist. Her natural successor is her husband, Antonio. In (Webster's source, Painter's Pallace of. Pleasure, Antonio is1 'the principal character who possesses traits appropriate !for a heroic protagonist. He is described as a gentleman of some wealth, much skill at arms, and of good education, who retires from the court of Frederick of Aragon to lead a life of tranquility in Naples, Here the Duchess meets him and implores him to become her Stewart, a Job which she admits is unworthy of him. He accepts her offer, and their tragic marriage ensues (pp. 4-24). 146 In his adaptation of the tale, Webster relegates Anto nio to a lesser position in order to focus attention on the Duchess. Webster omits most of Painter's references to An tonio's distinguished background and presents him as a young and unimportant member of Ferdinand's court. As suchy I Antonio emerges as a character of lesser rank than his \ predecessor. Nor does he seem to have much potential as a . heroic protagonist. However, just as Webster makes.-the Duchess a more I - humanized and potentially heroic character than her ante- j I \ : cedent, so does he attempt to humanize Antonio. Webster j i presents Antonio (who has certain similarities to Chapman's! Bussy D'Ambois) as a man who possesses nobility of spirit which compensates for his undistinguished breeding. He is | respected as a naturally virtuous person by most of the i I characters in the play. Even the wicked Cardinal calls I ihim honest (l.i.241). The Duchess lauds his virtues and .states emphatically that his degree of birth is irrelevant, for she argues: Say that he was borne meane. Man is most happy, when's owne actions Be arguments, and examples of his Vertue. (III.v.144-146) ; Bosola also discounts low birth as an impediment to i Antonio's advancement, for he recognizes that Antonio is ■the cousin of a Duke, and that he is as good as any man, !king or commoner: 147 Oh (Sir) you are Lord of the ascendant, chlefe man With the Duchesse, a Duke was your cosen German, remov'd: Say you were lineally descended from King Pippin, or he himselfe, what of this? search the heads of the greatest rivers in the World, you shall finde them but bubles of water: Some would thinke the soules of Princes were brought forth by some more weighty j cause, then those of meaner persons— they are de- , ceiv'd, there's the same hand to them: The like passions sway them, the same reason, that makes a Vicar goe to Law for a tithe-pig, and undoe his neighbours, makes them spoile a whole Province, and batter downe goodly Cities, with the Cannon. (II.i.99-109) 1 On the other hand, Antonio's vocation as steward ! . i hardly qualifies him as a heroic protagonist. Webster does I 1 not let us forget that Antonio's background is humbler than the Duchess's. As his enemy Ferdinand describes him: A slave, that onely smell'd of ynck, and coumpters, And nev'r in 's li[f]e, look'd like a Gentleman, ! But in the audit time, (ill.iii.87-89) ! All in all, these speeches illustrate the ambiguity or paradox by which Webster, like Chapman, presents contradic- ‘ tory views of his protagonists. To the Duchess, and prob ably to Webster, Antonio is fully noble, fully virtuous, fully qualified as a hero. To the villains of the play, 16 Antonio is basely bred and of inferior stuff. Antonio's role as a protagonist is first evident at Antonio, the steward, may represent the "new man" of Jacobean society, the ambitious entrepreneur who was in the process of rising from the lower to the upper classes. See Louis B, Wright, Middle-class Culture in England (Chapel ■Hill, W.C., 1935), p. 2, for a discussion of social ad vancement during this period. opening of Act I in which he appears as a young man des tined to rise in courtly circles who hopes to become a so cial reformer somewhat like Bussy D'Ambois, He has just returned.from France where he has observed a "juditious King" put his palace in good order by firing all the "dis solute / And infamous persons" (or, as Bussy would call them,, "politic men") upon the advice of a "provident Coun cell" (l.i.6-18). Antonio urges Ferdinand to adopt just such a program* Antonio's honest nature, however, makes him unacceptable as an advisor to the Argonian brothers, and his reforming influence is never heard in their 17 court. The Duchess, as we already know, is so impressed with Antonio's talents that she makes him both her steward and her husband. Significantly, however, the Duchess gives Antonio administrative power, but he remains submissive to her authority. In the courtship scene the Duchess care- ■ fully tests Antonio's subservience by asking his advice on her will. Antonio suggests that she remarry and, once pro vided with a good husband, "Give him all." The Duchess is startled, "AllI" To which Antonio responds that he means ^In The Duchess of Malfi, p. 137* note 8, F. L. Lucas points out that this is generally believed to be a topical reference to an incident which occurred after the first 'production of the play. However, the introduction of Anto- :nio as a reformer seems deliberately intended to. elevate his position and make him a more acceptable groom for the (Duchess, 149 her body, not her sovereignty. Relieved, the Duchess pro ceeds with her proposal which Antonio accepts, humbly J kneeling (I.i.421-544), The matter of domination comes up ! I again in Act III.il, when Antonio and the Duchess argue | f over sleeping accommodations. He is quite insistent about . staying with her, for he admits, "Indeed, my Rule is onely i in the night" (9). ' i While the Duchess is alive Antonio holds a secondary ! ! i position, After her death he becomes the natural revenger.! » I However, he is unaware of the tragic slaughter of his wife | and children, and still naively hopes that he can effect a i reconciliation with the Cardinal. Even his friend Delio > t doubts that this is possible, since all of Antonio's es- | tates are confiscated, and the Argonian brothers' are re- ! ported anxious to murder him. Despite this warning, Anto nio decides to go undisguised to the Cardinal's chamber, in the hope of arranging a conference (V.iii). Because of 'the brutal murders, which are unknown to Antonio, he has :clearly no chance of success in his brave effort to estab lish family harmony. His bold gesture is meaningless. Disaster is certain, Bosola, mistaking him for Ferdinand, .kills Antonio at the Cardinal's door. | Thus Antonio never undertakes an aggressive act as a 150 I 18 ' protagonist. He accepts the Duchess' proposal at her ^ I command, Although he wishes to protect his wife., he leaves) I for Loretto as ordered, However, he does not accept per manent exile, hut returns in a courageous attempt to aid I the Duchess, His accidental death is evidence of the fu- ! tility of his efforts. Consequently, Antonio remains a minor character in the play who is much reduced in impor- ; tance from the character in the source. It is a paradox : 1 that Antonio seems to qualify as a bona fide potential < I hero, but fails to become one largely because he never con-i 1 IQ fronts the villains, ^ i The man who finally does complete the action of the | I tragedy by avenging the Duchess' death and purging the evil elements from society is the same Bosola who is re- ! sponsible for her murder. With a sudden change of heart, \ he renounces his role as tool villain and becomes what 1 'Clarence Boyer calls the "villain-hero" (although perhaps 20 .the term "tool hero" is more appropriate). In Pallace of 1 Q Clifford Leech points out that another example of Antonio's failure as a heroic protagonist occurs in Act III, scene ill, in which Antonio dashes ineffectually into the Duchess' chamber after Ferdinand has departed, John Webster, p. 66, ■^Gunnar Boklund describes Antonio as a virtuous man • of average ability who is overwhelmed by events, an unheroic hero, The Duchess of Malfi, pp. l40-l4l,- The Villain as Hero in Elizabethan Tragedy (London, jjL9l4), p. 155. 151 Pleasure Bosola ranks only as a hired assassin* Webster greatly enlarges this character and makes him second to the Duchess in importance, Bosola is a man of middling nobility who appears to be a typical malcontent. As in the case of the Duchess and i Antonio, Webster introduces Bosola as a ponventional type I I character and then gradually exposes his individualistic personality traits., Initially, Bosola has the familiar features of the brooding recreant who has a grudge against the world and will do anything for money. i Bosola1s malady, is not a pose, as was so often the ; case in Elizabethan literature, for his bitterness is well- 21 motivated in human terms. Certainly Bosola has a valid complaint, for he has toiled seven years in the galleys j i without reward from the Cardinal. Also, his vision extends i i beyond his own personal enmity to the criticism of society j jin general, He is well aware of corruption in high places, ’ and his morose pronouncements bear the stamp of truth, He 'laments, all too prophetically, for example, that in a soci- ‘ety governed by men like Ferdinand and the Cardinal there . ' i s no reward fo.r a job well done. "Miserable age," he jcries, "where onely the reward of doing well, is the doing jof it" (1.1,33-34)- ' pi Lawrence Babb says this is the case, Elizabethan . Malady, p. 86. ’ 152*1 The characteristics of Bosola's melancholy follow the traditional symptomatology of the disease as understood in j i Jacobean times,, for his system is flooded with black bile : which affects his behavior. As Antonio describes it, i This foule mellancholly , Will poyson all his goodnesse, for (l>le tell you) If too immoderate sleepe be truly sayd To be an inward rust into the soul; ! It- then doth follow want of action Breeds all blacke male-contents, and their I close rearing j (Like mothes in cloath) doe hurt for want of j wearing. (I.i.78-84)' | Also, Bosola follows the conventional pattern of the mal- ! content in that he adopts the Machiavellian philosophy of ; life, agrees to become the tool villain of the play, and mechanically carries out the instructions of the demented , Ferdinand and his corrupt brother, the Cardinal. J i However, Bosola's own statements reveal him to be a man who thinks morally, even if he acts otherwise (Ill.ii. ;371-379 and IV.ii.381-404). He recognizes that he must j .perform these criminal deeds in order to achieve the ad vancement he has so far been denied, but he does not accept the politic pursuit of life without a certain amount of re- .morse. As he professes to his employers: I would have your curse yourselfe now, that your bounty (Which makes men truly noble) ere should make Me a villaine: oh, that to avoid ingratitude For all the good deeds you have done me, I must doe All the ill man can invent: Thus the Divell Candies all sinnes o'er: and what Heaven terms vild. That names he complementall, (I,i.295-301) 153~j Bosola1s ambivalence between his commitment to evil j and. his desire to do good is the result of the combination 1 t of the two aspects of his character. His Machiavellian ex-; i pediency is a projection of the type character from which j he has evolved. His loathing of evil belongs to his in- , dividualized personality. His choice between honest and dishonesty, knowing that the former has been unrewarded while the latter will lead to advancement, reveals a common I human weakness. 1 After the murder of the Duchess, Bosola changes his role from antagonist to protagonist because she evokes com- ! passion in his withered heart, and he resolves to avenge ; her death. His conversion seems sincere. He professes his; admiration for the Duchess and weeps, "Oh sacred Innocence, j that sweetely sleepes / On Turtles feathers" (lV.ii.383- " 384). Then he considers his own bad conduct and decides !that he will reform and, by so doing, seek to raise his 22 estate. Bosola's "conversion" amounts to a revolt against the corrupt social hierarchy, just as the Duchess' did before him. However, there is really very little evidence of 22 Travis Bogard believes that Bosola is not a fiend, but a basically moral man who discovers that he must act the villain in order to obtain advancement, Tragic Satire, 'p. 67. Gunnar Boklund also notices the qualities of the common man in Bosola who is the victim, not the agent, of :evilj The Duchess of Malfi, p. l68. • 154 Bosola1s total change of heart. He remains a politic Mach iavellian who follows expediency even in an act of rebel- | l lion. In the moment preceding his sudden decision he j alienates his sponsor, Ferdinand, who, upon seeing his | sister's nearly dead body, has come to regret his actions, ' Ferdinand refuses to give Bosola the promised reward and j calls him a villain because he was the agent of the murder, Bosola recognizes that his crimes have earned him nothing I and thus has good cause to repent his choice of action, ! The sight of the Duchess still faintly breathing regener ates Bosola's latent desire to do good deeds, but it also revives his hope to achieve a better reward by following her cause. Such a dramatic reversal of villain to hero is com- monly found in Renaissance drama and it may be related to the development of plot as well as to the- interpreta- Jtion of character, Bosola7s conversion is essential in ! terms of the dramatic structure, for someone must perform :the final deeds of murder and vengeance. Webster employs Bosola in another structural sense in that he becomes the Duchess' spiritual successor and operates more or less under her ghostly guidance, ■ Bosola is prodded to revenge by the feeling that the Duchess herself haunts him. This .is a vestige of the revenge tradition in which the ghost ; ^See j y j , c. Bradbrook, Themes and Conventions, p. 62. : 155 comes to haunt the avenger and urge him on to murder. In a soliloquy before he leaves to attack the Cardinal., Bosola mutters, "Still me thinkes the Dutchesse / Haunts me; j there, there I . . . 1 tis nothing but my melancholy" 1 pii * (V\i,38O-381), Bor this reason Clifford Leech calls ; Bosola a shadow of the Duchess (John Webster, p. 87).. Cer tainly the Duchess is the only seemingly heroic spirit in 1 the play, and since death has eliminated her from the trag-; ic denouement Webster utilizes an effective dramatic device; i in having her ghostly essence hover over the final scenes. In addition to his change in role, Bosola becomes a I more sympathetic character in the last scenes of the play I because his melancholy seems less distinctly drawn to i type. ^ His belated decision to join the cause of the Duchess, regardless how motivated, certainly results in a change in his melancholy attitude. He strikes out against evil and takes up arms instead of wallowing in despair. 'It may be said that Bosola is empelled toward the heroic, o h Antonio also has a visitation from what might be a ghost of the Duchess in the next scene (iii) . However, he • ' fears only an echo which seems to warn him of the dangers he is facing. He ignores the warning. I ^S. Blaine Ewing feels that Bosola succumbs to a more ‘realistic form of melancholy at the end of the play be cause he experiences pity and remorse and dies with despair |at the fruitlessness of his wasted life, Burtonian Melan- ; choly in the Plays of John Ford ('Princeton*^ 19^0), 'Prince- :ton Studies in English, No. 19, p. 110. Lawrence Babb con- 1 curs, The Elizabethan Malady, p. 86. 156 just as the Duchess herself., by his melancholy sense of loathing of the corruption In the world. It is a paradox in this play that melancholy, the one i attribute which frequently deters the heroic protagonist j from his endeavors., should be the trait which spurs the j protagonist to make a valiant attempt to establish his own j integrity. In this one regard both the Duchess and Bosola j share a moment of heroism. Antonio is also impelled toward] I action at a time when he feels melancholy coming over him j (V.iii). | The revenge scene--for the play in the final act be- j comes a traditional revenge drama--is a mechanical rendi- 26 tion of the typical conclusion of this kind of tragedy, The revenger, Bosola, after the unfortunate mistake in j which he kills Antonio, stabs both Ferdinand and the Card!-I nal. Although he receives a mortal wound in the scuffle, ! jBosola rejoices at his victorious achievement: I Now my revenge is perfect: sinke (thou maine cause Of my undoing)--the last part of my life, Hath done the best service. (V.v.81-83) At the conclusion of this bloody scene, in accord with revenge tradition, all the villains have met their much- deserved fate. The wicked Cardinal and his demented 26 Fredson Bowers sets this play in the later stage of revenge drama, a stage in which the villains reign and the protagonist is often the victim of the revenger, Elizabe- • than Revenge Tragedy, p. 158 and pp. 177-183. ' 157 brother who tortured the Duchess so viciously are dead. Dead also are all those persons who have in any way trans gressed against the mores of society! Bosola, the Duchess, ' Antonio, and miscellaneous others. The community has been purged of all its malefactors (plus a few innocent souls who were unlucky enough to get in the way). ; Mass homicide, however, provides only a tentative solu-f tion to the problems of society and does not positively re- : establish either social justice or moral order, which is the ultimate aim of traditional tragedy,. The presence of j i evil in the society has been eliminated. But, do virtue, ; innocence, and integrity survive? As typical of Jacobean I tragedy, nearly all of the principals are dead. Someone, j of course, must be left to carry on and establish the new ! I order. In this play the only surviving child of Antonio 27 and the Duchess is appointed. Child-rulers have been known historically to have a difficult time, because they are at the mercy of adults who may attempt to usurp their I ^princedoms, So the circumstances at the conclusion of the 'play do not in themselves seem to guarantee a rosy future. The apparent moral of the play is stated by Delio, who quotes a proverb: "Integrity of life is. fames best friend,/ Which nobly (beyond Death) shall crowne the end" 27 ! In Painter*s story, an older child of the Duchess by her first marriage is appointed to rule, Webster selects |a youngster. 158 (V.v.145-146). What Is curious about this moral tag Is the fact that It really does not fit the theme of the play and therefore cannot teach a lesson.. Not one of Webster's three protagonists discovers that Integrity aids the in- i dividual to achieve any reward whatsoever in life or death.j i If there is a possibility of the triumph of virtue among j i men,, if integrity of life crowns death.,- they have not seen , ! it. Even Bosola would prefer to be good, if goodness were , profitable. To the Duchess, death itself is a reward sincej life, as she tells Bosola: "That's the greatest torture j soules feele in hell,/ In hell: that they must live, and cannot die" (IV,i,82-83), j Antonio, too, sees life as a transitory and meaning- j less state: j A 1 In all our Quest of Greatnes . . . (Like wanton Boyes, whose pastime is :their care) We follow after bubbles blowne in th' ayre. Pleasure of life, what is't? only the good houres Of an Ague: meerely a preparative to rest, 1 To endure vexation. (V.iv,75-80) j Antonio's last words reveal the ultimate horror he ! feels toward organized society as he pleads, "let my sonne fly the Courts of Princes," These words seem to be a con demnation of rulers in general, far more than the specific villains in the play. To Antonio the world is hopelessly ! 'corrupt and the only way to live Is to escape society. The ■paradox here, of course, is that the boy does not flee, but remains In Malfi to face the very terror which his father hopes, he could avoid,. . ._____ 159 Bosola., like Antonio and the Duchess., is unable to af firm community values in the manner normally expected of a heroic protagonist. He looks upon his accidental killing of Antonio as an impersonal act without reality. He sees I only mist, darkness, and confusion as he cries, I Oh, this gloomy world, j In what a shadow, or deepe pit of darkeness, ! Both womanish and fearfull mankind live' (V.Iv.l84) j Thus critics in general are quick to point out that | The Duchess of Malfi is not a traditional tragedy because Webster does not provide a satisfactory heroic protago- 28 i nist. Certainly under the epic-tragic conventions as I demonstrated in Renaissance literature, no one of the three) pO j For example, Clarence Boyer calls the play a melo- j drama, not a tragedy, because Webster was too concerned with exceptional characters and circumstances, The Villain as Hero, p. 151* Also, Clifford Leech, John Webster, p. 1 1 61, believes that Webster was primarily interested in ;character portrayal. On the other hand, Eugene Waith, who finds a general lack of Herculean heroes on the Jacobean and Caroline stages, manages to praise the Duchess as one :of the two or three "admirable" characters, admirable in the sense that they, like the Herculean hero, succeed in :arousing admiration In the spectator, The Herculean Hero, (New York, 1962), p, 145. Some critics point to the failure of Webster's charac ters to endorse a moral philosophy as a weakness in the ,tragic spirit of the drama; Ian Jack, "The Case of John Webster," Scrutiny, XVI (March 1949), 39 J Henry Wells, Elizabethan and Jacobean Playwrights (New York, 1939)^ p. 46. In defense of Webster, Travis Bogard asserts that the plays balance tragedy and satire and establish that man is ;not a master of his fate, for he is restricted by illness, 'death, violent human emotions and social laws, but man still finds a glow to life, a sense of glory in the fact ,that integrity remains which evil cannot destroy (Tragic 1 Satire, pp. 99-100.]_.__ _ ________ l6o protagonists can be called a tragic hero. Only Bosola ac complishes the goal of the hero, for he purges the corrupt society, but his conduct has been so corrupt itself that he can hardly receive accolades. The Duchess may be heroic at heart, for she courageously makes her commitment to I i life, but her choice of action proves unconventional, and ! she is destroyed by the stronger power of social dogmatism.j Antonio attempts to reconcile the hostile forces, but he is also destroyed.- The Duchess becomes the hero-victim. j Antonio is the impotent hero, and Bosola is the tool hero. j In conclusion, although Webster utilizes traditional ! elements in his drama, he constantly amalgamates them with original and non-conventional elements. He bases his pro tagonists upon traditional literary types, but labors to i make them individual and human. The story of their lives i is also derived from a historical-fictional source in which' virtue triumphs over vice. However, in Webster's adapta- ' 'tion of The Duchess of Malfi, the protagonists embark upon a struggle to preserve their own individual integrity which, in the Duchess' case, achieves existential vigor. These anti-social efforts leads the protagonists to physi- ,cal and spiritual suffering and terminate in victimization 'and death. In the final moments the protagonists do not :become reconciled to the society against which they have allegedly transgressed, and the world is little the better .for their struggle. The Duchess of Malfi, therefore, is not the typical heroic drama in which traditional universal value is af firmed, nor is it a study of retribution upon degenerate characters. Webster1s.concept of heroism appears to differ : from tradition. He dramatizes the tragedy of human life, but more especially, he reveals the determination of common , humanity to struggle gloriously, weakly, or ignominiously 1 i for its own individual integrity against monstrous odds. ; i The prognosis of such a heroic endeavor is not favorable ! because the struggle requires rebellion against the social . order which inevitably turns against the rebel and reduces , him to suffering and death. j I What is tragic and uplifting, heroic and universal, j in this play is Webster's revelation that no matter how j acute the despair, the protagonist still fights fiercely, even unto death. There is no affirmation beyond the will ingness to struggle. CHAPTER VII THE CHANGELING j , ■'■■■»■« | i The ambiguous title of The Changeling (l62l), a joint ' composition by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley,, suggest^ the theme of paradox which has been observed in the plays already considered in this study, "Change" is indeed the j central idea of the drama for innumerable complex changes occur in the course of events which lead to multiple levels I I of interpretation. Also,, the essential nature of these ; I I changes is paradoxical. On the surface Middleton and Rowley i employ many of the traditional elements of seventeenth- ! century tragedy., such as a plot derived from an English j adaptation of the Italianate novelle and Senecan revenge I 1 “ 'tragedy, characters which follow conventional patterns of decorum, and a concluding moral to admonish all those who may be tempted to enjoy illicit passion of the consequences of such irresponsible conduct. Beneath the surface, how ever, the playwrights present a view of life which is bas ically amoral, unconventional, and suggestive of a realis tic recognition of the contemporary world of Middleton and ;Rowley. I 162 163 The protagonist., Beatrice-Joanna, provides a vivid illustration of the paradoxical dichotomy between appear ance and reality which characterizes the play as a whole. At first, like the Duchess of Malfi, she appears to be a lady of gentle birth who is beautiful to look and virtu ous in conduct. However, Beatrice soon exposes a person- j i ality which is totally different from the Duchess1] she is | a self-centered woman who allows her passions to corrupt ! i her outward beauty. Like the Duchess, Beatrice struggles j to establish a life with the man she loves, but her strug gle is not clear-sighted like the Duchess' because she al- ! lows her distraught emotions to blind her. As a result, Beatrice is defeated, not as the Duchess is, by a villain- ; ous and corrupt social order, but by the weaknesses of her | own nature. In appearance, therefore, Beatrice possesses some of the larger-than-life characteristics of the tragic j heroine, but in reality she is a prototype of frustrated, corruptible, ineffectual human nature, and so she belongs 'foremost among the ranks of the vanishing hero. , Despite the fact that The Changeling is a collabora tion of two writers and therefore, not unexpectedly, con- ■ 1 ,tains a number of flaws, the play has a fascination for i : ^Richard Barker sums up the general evaluation of most of the scholars by labeling the tragedy brilliant, the comedy contemptible, all of which makes true unity impos sible, Thomas Middleton (New York, 1958), p. 136, Among relatively recent scholarly studies of The Changeling are 164 the reader j even today. The plight of Beatrice., caught in a web she only partially understands, wrestling frantically i to extricate herself, but falling deeper and deeper into ! i the web, has a dramatic impact which makes a study of this ' protagonist worthwhile. , In some measure the "changes" in Beatrice's character , can be attributed to the dramaturgy of the different play- j wrights. Scholars have painstakingly divided the text of i the play into scenes which they attribute to the hand of Middleton or the hand of Rowley, and, while so doing, these , scholars attribute the weaknesses of The Changeling to Row- I 2 1 ley and the strengths to Middleton, Rowley is judged to be responsible for the comic subplot (which we will not examine here) and for scenes based on popular moral tradition] for example, the scenes in which Beatrice appears to be most virtuous and ladylike, Middleton, on the other hand, is f 'credited with the composition of the more sophisticated and T. S, Eliot, Essays on Elizabethan Drama (New York, 1932)j M. G. Bradbrook, Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge") 1935); Ena Ellis-Eermor, The Jacobean Drama, 4th ed. (London, 196l)j and Samuel Schoenbaum, Mid dleton' s Tragedies (New York, 1955). 2 Richard C. Harrier divides the scenes as follows: Rowley probably wrote I.i-iij V.iiij Ill.iiij and IV.iii. Middleton is credited with the composition of Il.i-ii; III.i~ii,iv; iV.i-iij and V.i-ii-— An Anthology of Jacobean Drama (New York, 1963)* II* xiv. This is the edition used .herein and all line citations are taken from it. Other re cent editions of the play are by N. W. Bawcutt (Cambridge, .Mass., 1958) and George Williams (Lincoln, Nebr., 1966). : Both of these editors concur with Harrier's analysis. 165 ironic scenes, the scenes in which the altered character of Beatrice appears as a passionate and suffering human being. However, as further examination will prove, the play wrights worked closely, developing and manipulating complex i i themes with amazing congruity. In his recent edition of : The'Changeling, N, W. Bawcutt states this point most em- > phatically: I All the evidence seems to show that The Changeling was the result of an unusually close collaboration. The ; play has a remarkable consistency and continuity, and ; there is a complete absence of the discrepancies in.de- ! tail between one part and the next which are often the ; sign of a work written by several authors, (p. xxxix) I The paradox of the disparity between appearance and : | reality in Beatrice's character arises as a result of the ! i deliberate fusion of literary traditions with the imagina— j tive interpolations of the playwrights, in particular Mid- : i dleton. The earlier scenes of the play are written in the mode-of Elizabethan romantic comedy and Jacobean tragi- jcomedy, but the major portion of the play follows the tradi tions of Italianate novelle and Senecan revenge tragedy. The source of the main plot of The Changeling is drawn from one of the thirty stories in John Reynolds' Triumphs of gods Revenge . . . (1621),3 and as a result the overall ac- ! The Triumphs of Gods Revenge, Against the crying, and execrable Sinne of Murther; or His Miraculous discoveries j and severe punishments thereof, Book I. History iv, pp. 105- 147. At the Huntington Library. Although Reynolds insists in his preface that he collected his histories on his trav els abroad (B2), they closely resemble the tales in Ital- lianate novelle. . . . _ : 166 tlon of the play reflects the themes of lust, sin, and retribution which characterized English translations of novelle such as Painter!s Pallace of Pleasure, previously 4 ! observed in the chapter on The Duchess of Malfi, Elements i | of revenge tragedy can also be detected, but, as in the case: of Webster's play, the revenge tradition can be closely j linked with novelle and thus does not require special at- j tention. j Middleton and Rowley, like Webster, make significant changes in the treatment of the plot which affect Beatrice's characterization. The initial incidents of the love of Beatrice and Alsemero and the murder of Piracquo are adoptee, from the source and much of the latter part of the story is | t omitted. More important, however, Middleton and Rowley j (like Webster) focus of the story squarely on Beatrice in stead of on Alsemero, as in the source. Why these play- {wrights chose to alter their emphasis from a male to a fe- !male protagonist can, of course, only be a matter for con- ! jecture. It may be that a woman was selected because, by her very physical nature, she is helpless to struggle ^Among the best known authors of Italianate novelle jwere Bandello, Masuccio, and Florentine. Their works were iOften translated into English by way of French, and each 'translator customarily added something of his own to the ,story--most often, a moral. For a discussion of the char acteristics of the novelle see Margaret Schlaugh, Anteced ents of the English Novel 1400-1600 (London, 1963)* PP* 138- ! 163. Also Fredson Bowers', Elizabethan Revenge Tragedy (Princeton, 194-0), p. 58. 167 against opposing social forces. Therefore; her defeat be comes more certain and her heroic stature more ambiguous. The key to Beatrice's character can be found in the playwrights' persistent demonstration of the contrast be- I tween her outward appearance (based on courtly tradition) ; and her "real" or innermost personality (based on novelle | tradition and original interpretation), The contrast be- j tween these disparate types is repeatedly linked to the j central theme of change. 1 At the opening of the play Beatrice appears to be- modelled after the traditional heroine who Is a lady of high social station, like the aristocratic heroines of ! Shakespeare's Much Ado, As You Like It, and The Tempest. Beaumont and Fletcher also portray ladies of royal blood ! i in their tragi-comedies such as Philaster and A King and No: King. These women are not only well bred, but they are in-' variably lovely to look at, charming to know, dutiful, mod- lest and, upon occasion, witty. As such, they exemplify the .description of the courtly lady which can be found in the most famous of the courtesy books of the era, Baldassare Oastiglione1s The Courtier. In Beatrice’s case, "change" is immediately apparent, I 'Although she belongs to the gentry, no kingdoms or Duchies will be hers to rule. Nor can she expect to become the "’ Trans, Sir. Thomas Hoby (London, 1944), Book III. 168 I consort of a king because, like her antecedent In John Rey nolds' story., Beatrice's father Is a man of considerable wealth and political power who makes no claim to royal 6 blood. Beatrice has been reared in courtly fashion to be an obedient daughter and a faithful wife. As a consequence,j Beatrice's potential for heroic endeavor is very limited. She is not a princess, nor can hope to become one. She is i merely a woman who will always be subject to the commands of men. i Beatrice's aura as a romantic heroine, however, is | i augmented by her great natural beauty which makes her a j suitable object for a courtier’s adoration. Indeed, it is not Beatrice's breeding which attracts the admiration of Alsemero, but her physical appearance. In the opening lines of the play he explains that he has just come to town and i has fallen in love with Beatrice at first sight, as is i I typical with lovers in Renaissance literature. He eulogizes I !her "beauties" which, in terms of courtly tradition are proof of inner purity and perfection. Alsemero, like a Petrarchan sonneteer, speaks of the church where they met as a temple of holy love:. i I i : 6 In the novelle tradition, the writer often creates characters which are placed in urban and mercantile set-* tings without aristocratic titles. In other words, these ^characters are distinctly less important for their noble ,bearing than for their newly acquired wealth. See Margaret ;Schlaugh, English Novel, p. 138. 169 Twas In the Temple where I first beheld her,, And now agen the same; what Omen yet Follows of that? None but imaginaryj Why should my hopes or fate be timerous? The place is holy., so is my intent: I love her beauties, to that holy purpose, And that (me thinks) admits comparison With mans first creation, the place blest, And is his right home back (if he atchieve it), j The Church hath first begun our interview ; And that’s the place must joyn us into one. j So there’s beginning and perfection too. (I.i.1-12) j Alsemero's hymn of praise follows the decorum required i of lovers, which Ruth Leila Anderson describes as a chaste | I 7 ! and noble affection guided by the intellect. Then, imme- ; diately following his melancholy soliloquy, Alsemero ob- j serves Beatrice walking! towards him on her way home from j church, and he is so overwhelmed with adoration that he j rushes up to her and salutes her with a kiss. Beatrice i I does not attempt to repel him, although from Alsemero’s I own testimony, they have seen each other only once before. Her actions, therefore, indicate that she too has fallen in love at. first sight. In the flirtatious scene which follows, Alsemero and 'Beatrice converse in the polite and elevated fashion re quired of Renaissance lovers who must learn to control pas sion and express love by idealization of the beloved. The conversation between the lovers (I.1.65-84) closely paral- ; ^Elizabethan Psychology and Shakespeare’s Flays (Iowa !City, Iowa, 1927) * University of Iowa Studies, III, 5", pp. 1121-125. 170 lels the first meeting of Romeo and Juliet (i.v) who were also lovers capable of mutual idealization through reason and therefore untainted by the sinful attributes of overt lust. | I However, within the framework of this brief scene, ' Beatrice gradually reveals to the audience through "asides" . that Alsemero has greatly misjudged her beauty as a sign of virtue. Paradoxically, Beatrice's soul does not conform to ' ! Platonic standards for she readily expresses an inner self 1 I that is very different from her outward appearance. Be- ! i neath the veneer of courtly graces, she is not the modest, 1 decorous, and virtuous maiden that her lover imagines, but ; a woman of deep feeling and volatile actions. In this re- I I spect, she resembles the lascivious and evil protagonist of ! 8 ! John Reynolds' history, , But Beatrice personality is not limited to stereotypes. As the play progresses Beatrice idoes not seem to be a lustful and depraved villainess, but jmerely a foolish and tragically irresponsible human being. Beatrice's complex alternate personality does not ap- 8 In Elizabethan Psychology, p. 118, R. L. Anderson ob serves that there are exceptions in Renaissance literature to the Platonic rule that beauty was a sign of inner virtue. ’ Gressida, for example, is beautiful to look at, but immoral at heart. As an explanation for this apparent contradic tion, Miss Anderson quotes Castiglione's suggestion that beautiful women, by the very reason of their beauty, are -more vulnerable to attack by unscrupulous men and so led : astray. However, I consider Troilus and Gressida to be an enigmatic play in which the protagonists also display char acteristics of the vanishing hero. 171 | i pear Immediately. She always endeavors to enact the role i I of the modest and rational lady for which she has been i reared. To her lover (as well as to the other characters in the play) she presents a facade of the idealized person he imagines her to be. When Alsemero kisses her and impetu-; ously swears his sincere devotion, exclaiming, "I love you dearly, 1 1 (72) Beatrice politely cautions him against rash I judgments. Appearance, she explains logically, need not be j the clue to reality: | I Be better advis'd, sir: ; Our eyes are Centinels unto our judgements, And should give certain judgement what they see; But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders Of common things, which when our judgements find, They can check the eyes, and cal them blind. (72-77) ; i Beatrice is telling more of the truth than she may j ! I realize, for no matter how rational her statement may sound,; she too is susceptible to rash judgment. Alsemero's kiss jhas aroused passions in her which she has no right to ex press . However, she is able to retain logical control of her emotions and rejects his proposal of marriage by ex plaining, "Oh, there's one above me, sir," (84) a remark which Alsemero misinterprets as a reference to the neces sity of obtaining her father's approval. The fact of the matter is that Beatrice is rejecting Alsemero's suit because she has already accepted the propo sal of another. As she confesses: I 172 [Aside, 1 For five dayes past To be recal'd! Sure., mine eyes were mistaken; This was the man meant me. That he should come So neer his time., and miss it! (84-87) Beatrice's reluctance to tell Alsemero the tru;fch seems understandable. If only she had met him five days earlier! At this point her father appears and Beatrice is i thrown into a state of emotional turmoil. In another "aside" which soon follows she reveals that physical pas sion is beginning to undermine her judgment to such an ex- | tent that she is losing rational control of her feelings. i She whispers, "[Aside. ] I shall change my Saint, I fear me; I find/ A giddy turning in me" (156-157). j This giddiness is a physiological symptom of passion ate love or love melancholy which, in terms of Elizabethan 1 moral theory, a lover must control, for the conflict be- j i tween reason and passion was a conflict between virtue and j vice. A virtuous woman who, like Beatrice, falls in love j ! after she has become engaged or married must endeavor to i Q suppress these emotions. Failure to do so is sinful. At the close of this first scene, Beatrice, despite 1 her giddiness, seems still to be ruled by reason. She lis tens silently as her father tells Alsemero of the betrothal, 1 1 jand the young man is broken-hearted. Vermandero explains 1 his determination that Beatrice marry Piracquo: l f 9 1 Bussy D'Ambois, it will be remembered, defied this |moral dictum when he fell in love with Tamyra. 173 He shall be bound to me, As fast as tie can hold him; I'le wantlO My will else. (219-221) To which Beatrice replies in an "aside": "I shall want i mine if you do it" (222). Thus Beatrice, like a dutiful i daughter, seems to have resigned herself to an unhappy fu- ; ture and will comply with VermanderoIs orders (just as , Ophelia obeys Polonious). However, Beatrice1s acquiescence ; has a note of defiance. So once again the Beatrice of courtly manners reveals a tendency to become the Beatrice I of the novelle who, after a few modest blushes and expres- . sions of courtly reticence, swiftly surrenders to sexual passion and, at the first opportunity, arranges a secret i meeting with her lover in her chamber (Gods Triumph, pp. : HI-129). However, Middleton's and Rowley's Beatrice, al- ! 1 though dizzy with love, does not abandon rational control ; of her emotions on the instant. She is not so much a woman jof inordinate sexual passion as she is a woman of determina- 'tion who is faced with an agonizing conflict between the role in life which she has been trained to perform and the ■love of a man she is unable to marry. Thus, within the limits of a single scene, Beatrice's 'paradoxical nature is clearly delineated. Beatrice, the courtly lady of good looks, proper conduct, and well-rea soned virtue is placed in direct contrast with the lesser ! s ^"Fail to get," see Harrier, p. 13. ‘ ' ijb woman of novelle tradition whose irrepressible passionate nature undermines her ability to think rationally, In sub sequent scenes Beatrice persistently demonstrates both sides of her personality. To some of her associates she presents the image of the elevated courtly lady,, but in her 1 confessions she reveals a wilful passionate inner self ; which is subject to love melancholy. This complex woman , is not a stereotype of literary antecedents, for she pro-' j gressively takes on a vitality of her own. Although it is i I impossible to condone the actions which she subsequently j ! initiates, for they are blatantly criminal, Beatrice's ! ! twisted gestures and confused emotions seem realistic and 11 ; lifelike and, therefore, tragic. ; Had Alsemero speedily left Alicant when he learned of ' l Beatrice's betrothal, none of the subsequent events would : have transpired. Unfortunately for Beatrice, Vermandero in sists that Alsemero become a guest at the castle. Propin quity often leads to trouble, as it does in this case. By Act II.i, Beatrice is frankly in love with Alsemero and de termined to marry him. The surrender to passion, which was suggested in Act I.i, is now complete. As always, however, Beatrice struggles to preserve a facade of respectability. C. Bradbrook observes that "Compared with the characters of earlier plays, Middleton's are fuller, more natural and human. Their motives and actions may be con ventionally 'Italianate' . . , but their feelings and re sponses are normal." Themes and Conventions, p. 213. 175 Her behavior seems to be entirely unconscious, for she blinds herself to her own passion, She has no sense of sinning, although she does admit that the pangs of love make her fearful. Her repeated references to eyes and judgment add emphasis to the confusion in her mind between t appearance and reality. Despite the fact that in the past I i she cautioned Alsemero about the dangers of faulty vision, she is now convinced that eyes are indeed reliable instru- 12 ^ ments of perception, for she loves him and, as she says, j "Me thinks I love now with the eyes of judgement" (ll.i.13) ! With this assertion Beatrice has, in effect, initiated a program of wilful self-deception. She knows her duty and is mindful of the consequences of open defiance of her father. Her dilemma was not unusual in Renaissance drama, ! i any more than it was unusual in Renaissance life. Although1 jladies of the upper classes enjoyed considerable personal |freedom, women had yet to achieve domestic suffrage. Nor could a woman secure financial independence from her family. Hence, from the practical standpoint, a woman was usually .forced to accept her father’s choice of husband, regardless 12 It should be observed that this line is found in . II.i, a scene which is ascribed to Middleton. The previous scene between Beatrice and Alsemero (l.i) is ascribed to Rowley. However, the repetition of the eye-reason image is .found in both, Such links demonstrate further the care fully contrived artistic unity of the play. See also the quotations from R, L. Anderson, pp. 17-18 of this study on ithe Renaissance concept of the effect of passion on vision.. of her personal preference. Elopement was more often than not the first step to disgrace and poverty, | I Beatrice clearly prefers to avoid the fate of disobe- ; | dient daughters who elope., and she prefers the luxury of a i castle with the man she loves at her side. Therefore, she determines to find some way in which to compromise between 1 1 the demands of her family and the desires of her heart. She does this by blinding herself to the full significance ! of the real situation. Having convinced herself that her j love for Alsemero is reasonable, she believes that any j means to obtain him as her husband, even murder, is justi fied. j M, 0, Bradbrook deals at some length with Beatrice’s ' attempt to reconcile passion with judgement, and suggests that it forms the basis for the structure of the entire play as a demonstration of . . . the conflict of passion and judgment, and of the transforming power of love. All the characters (save Alsemero) are entirely at the mercy of their feelings, which are instinctive and uncontrollable. Judgment is blinded, so that the characters practise all kinds of deception and self-deception to gain their ends. (Themes and Conventions, p. 2l4) Although Beatrice's judgment is warped by passion, lo -’ George M. Trevelyan, England Under the Stuarts, 8th ed. (London, 1919)^ P- 122. See also Trevelyan's Illustrat ed English Social History, II (London, 19^-2), Another in teresting book on social history is Louis B. Wright's Middle-class Culture in Elizabethan England (Chapel Hill, : N.C,, 1936). ! 177 she begins her quest for approval of her marriage to Alse mero with rational tactics. Initially,, she maintains si- i lence and conceals her true feelings about Alsemero from ! her fatherj fearing perhaps that his anger may alienate him ! and thus prevent the marriage. She uses every reasonable approach within her power to prevent the undesired marriage with Piracquo from taking place. She insists upon postpon-j ing the wedding date as long as possible. During the delay; she endeavors to introduce Alsemero to her father's favor, I l in the hope that Vermandero will agree to a change in bride-j grooms. She believes that- she is justified in doing this ! i because Alsemero is clearly a man of acceptable social and | I financial status. Furthermore, Alsemero1s father was once 14 intimately acquainted with Vermandero. Her plan fails, ; however, because Vermandero is resolute in his first choice I for his daughter's husband. I When Beatrice realizes that neither an open request nor any form of indirect strategy will prevail against her father's firm stand, she becomes so ruled by passion that she decides that murder is the logical solution to her prob lem. 14 Reynolds makes clear that Alsemero is less wealthy and therefore less desirable as a husband than Piracquo, nor does he mention any family relationship between Alsemero and Vermandero, p. 117. Middleton's Alsemero is placed on ian acceptable social level with Beatrice and thus her choice cannot be condemned in the same manner that the Duchess of Malfi's selection of her steward, Antonio, is condemned. 178 : i Alsemero offers to challenge Piracquo to a duel., but j I Beatrice refuses because she fears that Alsemero might be j killed and should he survive he would be sent to prison for j illegal dueling. If she were a man, she confesses, she j i would dispose of Piracquo herself: Would Oreation-- Had form’d me man. Oh, 'tis the soul of freedom! I should not then be forc’d to marry one I hate beyond all depths, I should have power i Then to oppose my loathings, nay remove 'em i For ever from my sight. (II,ii.107-113) i Since she is not a man, Beatrice decides to hire an assassin to do the job for her. Her instigation of the murder of Piracquo amounts to a violent protest against the ( i social mores. Unlike Bussy, Antonio, Or VIndici, she has noj i I grand and magnificent reforms In mind. She dreams, like the Duchess, of the happiness of two human beings. In this re gard, her act is the revolt of an Individual who feels com- i pelled to demand freedom of choice--the right to marry the man she loves--despite the dictum of social authority. The fact that she is a woman, subject to the domination of men, makes her plight seem hopeless. But no matter how unfortu nate her predicament, Beatrice’s conduct is a passionate as sertion of individual will against .the well-being of society 'because murder, especially of an innocent person (Piracquo 'commits no indiscretion of any kind) is, as Antonio points out in The Revenger's Tragedy, a threat to the safety of 179 1 the other members of the community. Thus, by her surrender to passionate love and her decision to adopt violent crimi-j i nal means of action, Beatrice has, in effect, broken the ! I rational bond with society and become a spiritual exile j from it. Her love for Alsemero, the secret she dares not : tell her father, is the first step among many in her pro gressive alienation not only from her father, but from her lover and all her family and friends. Blinded by wilful ' desires, Beatrice strikes at her enemy with the quick im- ; pulsive gesture of a child--unaware of the consequences ! certain to follow which will alienate her forever. ; As a result, Beatrice loses permanently all semblance ' of heroic posture. She can never again re-establish accord, with the community consciousness. She becomes, like Rey- ! nolds' Beatrice, a villainess who is destined to receive retribution. In this respect Beatrice differs from the Iprotagonists examined in earlier chapters because each one icould claim some genuine justification for his conduct. Beatrice cannot. And yet in some indescribable way, she remains a protagonist to whom some sympathy is due despite her evil conduct. The explanation seems to rest on Middle ton's and Rowley’s characterization of a woman who is not a* stereotype of a novelle villainess, but a normal woman who .values personal desires over duty. : Beatrice conceals from Alsemero the change from the 'modest courtly lady to her newly revealed self, the passion 180 ate woman. She shows him only her superficial nature. After the first meeting their personal intimacy develops only slightly. Although Beatrice has convinced herself that, in terms of reason, Alsemero, not Piracquo, should be her husband, neither she nor her lover demonstrate any de- i sire for a clandestine love affair (as does Reynolds' Bea- ' ■ trice). The entire courtship takes place on a conventional level in which both lovers proclaim their rational and idealized adoration for each other. Beatrice speaks of her j 1 desire for Alsemero in terms of holy prayers, and he echoes < her lofty dreams (II.ii.8-14). Although sensual passion is ; I certainly implicit in their relationship, it never achieves fruition. When they do eventually marry, the conditions under which the marriage has been made possible, as well ! as the events of the wedding night, are extraordinary, and j neither lover gives any indication that the marriage is 18 ever consummated. On the other hand, Beatrice's overwhelmingly passion ate nature is demonstrated through her emotional relation ship with a third man, not her betrothed, but a man whom she detests--DeFlores, Significantly, this character does jnot correspond with the DeFlores in Reynolds' story. The i 18 ^In Gods Revenge, pp. 127-133* "the courtship is car ried on through a number of passionate letters which lead 'eventually to a secret meeting. After the marriage the ;lovers enjoy three months of bliss. I ^ 181 original DeFlores is a gallant young gentleman who is will ing to commit murder in exchange for a few kisses and who becomes Beatrice's lover only after Alsemero!s unfounded 16 jealousy has caused a breakdown in their marriage. In The Changeling, DeFlores becomes a Machiavellian villain who leads a bewildered and helpless girl to her doom. In the two famous scenes between Beatrice and DeFlores, a momentous struggle occurs between darkness and 1 l light, deception and knowledge, virtue and sin. DeFlores ! appears to be Beatrice's alter ego, a manifestation of her 1 I 17 inner self, who clear-sightedly points to the inconsis- , tency between the delusion of virtue which she struggles to ! | maintain and the genuinely passionate nature which she struggles to conceal. As a result of their confrontation Beatrice finally comes to recognize, to see, the real mean ing of her self-blinded thoughts, but her discovery comes {too late and she is forced to capitulate helplessly to the domination of DeFlores. 16 Pp. 127-133* It might also be observed that Al- ’semero’s cruel treatment of Beatrice, completely without motivation, parallels Alibius' incarceration of Isabella in the comic subplot of The Changeling. 17 Elmer Edgar Stoll has observed that DeFlores acts as an alter ego to Beatrice in "Heroes and Villains," Re view of English Studies, XVIII (July 1942), 257-260. 'Stoll's primary concern in this article, however, is an .analysis of the relationship between Othello and Iago. ilago, Stoll suggests, becomes almost a phase of Othello himself and acts not so much as antagonist as a Mr. Hyde dort of anti-hero. 1 4 182 I In contrast to Reynolds' gallant, Middleton's j DeFlores Is a servant who often acts as an intermediary be- 18 ' tween Beatrice and her father. His character is patterned on the traditional malcontent type. He has a morose and displeasing personality and an ugly body. Like Bosola in i I The Duchess of Malfi, he is willing to become a tool vil lain and, like Bosola, he asserts an unexpected independence of his employer. He is melancholy, not as a result of dis appointment in political advancement, but because he is re- jected by the woman he adores, Beatrice. Thus he too suf fers from love melancholy. He mopes: Milt never mend this scorn j One side or other? Must I be enjoyn'd To follow still whilst she flies from me? Well, Fates do your worst, I Me please my self with sight Of her, at all opportunities, ■ If but to spite her anger; I know she had ! Rather see me dead then living and yet : She knows no cause for1t, but a peevish will. (I.i.102-109) Beatrice finds DeFlores extraordinarily repulsive. iHer shudder when she meets him in I.i. expresses far more !than the peevish will. In terms of Platonic theory, just as a beautiful body may indicate a virtuous soul, an ugly 'body suggests a villainous soul. Therefore, in terms of 18 In the introduction to his edition of The Change ling , p. xiii, George Williams attributes something of the character of DeFlores to Leonard Digges’ Gerardo The Unfor- Munate Spaniard(1622). However, having scanned the text, I ,see no particular similarity between DeFlores and the mel ancholy Spaniard. DeFlores is much more akin to Iago, jFlamineo, and Bo sola. ~183] I tradition,, Beatrice's shudder may indicate a partial recog nition of the evil in this man. Also., this evil in DeFlores affects her own soul. When Alsemero notices her agitation I and questions her about it, she-explains, "Sir, 'tis my in-i firmity," and then adds that this infirmity is so extreme that she believes DeFlores acts as a poison to her system (I. i . HI-113) • Since DeFlores'. interest in Beatrice is frankly sexual, his sexuality may be the vice which poisons - her. He upsets her, not because he is physically repugnant 1 or grotesquely sensual, but because he awakens her natural l inclination to sexual passion (vice), which she struggles 1 to suppress under the guise of purity (virtue). ! Evidence of this repulsion-attraction syndrome can be seen in Beatrice's attitude to DeFlores throughout the play. At first he merely irritates her (i.i.), but once she has fallen in love with Alsemero, DeFlores becomes in- icreasingly repulsive to. her. Her emotions are now affected 1 1 Imore strongly by DeFlores than by Alsemero, for she says: This ominous ill-fac'd fellow more disturbs me, Then all my other'passions, (II,i.53-5^) and I never see this fellow, but I think Of some harm towards me; danger's in my mind still, I scarce leave trembling of an hour after. (ll.i.89-91) Beatrice's hate obsession with DeFlores comes to a violent explosion when she kisses Alsemero the second time in II.i. The kiss reminds her of poison— -poison ostensibly 184 In terms of the unwanted lover., Piracquo. Suddenly* how ever* she recalls her prior association of poison with DeFlores* and the two men become linked in her thoughts. This outcome is paradoxical* for the man whom she once t hated enough to consider poisonous* instantly* upon the oc-, casion of her lover's kiss* becomes attractive. DeFlores* ! she decides* can be the instrument by which she will dis- j pose of both irritations; ' [Aside. ] And now I think of one*— I was to blame j I ha1 mar'd so good a market with my scorn; j 'T had been done questionless; the ugliest creature j Creation fram'd for some use* yet to see | I could not mark so much where it should be! ! (II.ii.41-45) ; With this in mind* Beatrice approaches DeFlores with ■ i an air of flirtation* for she is determined to overlook his j i physical detractions in order to woo him to her cause. ! i DeFlores suspects that there is inconsistency in her con duct* for he observes that now she admires "the same Phis- :nomy to a hair and a pimple*/ Which she call'd scurvy scarce an hour agoe (II.ii.76-77). The dialogue which follows is a strange mock love scene in which Beatrice tells DeFlores that he is not bad looking as she once thought* and he responds with growing I passion. vThe imagery of his language is intensely sensual* 1 as he whispers* "Her fingers touchrt me!/ She smels all Amber" (81-82). Beatrice patters on with small talk* grad- I i ually working up to her request that DeFlores kill Piracquo* 1 a request which DeFlores recognizes will inevitably link j them together. All the while, Beatrice seems blind to the real situation; as Una Ellis-Fermor suggests, Beatrice seems like a woman sleepwalking (Jacobean Drama, pp. 146- 147). When DeFlores assures Beatrice that her wish will be ; granted, she is elated, and this hideous man becomes in creasingly attractive to her, for she exclaims: "How lovely j now / Dost thou appear to me!" (135--136)* ' In Act III*iv, the paradoxical change in Beatrice ; from hate to love of DeFlores is completed. She is de lighted with DeFlores' report of the murder, and she ex- j presses her pleasure with another of those curious state- ; i ments about eyes, "My joyes start at mine eyes; our sweet* stj delights / Are everymore born weeping" (25-26). Then, by j way of proof of his deed, DeFlores presents to her eyes the ! blunt evidence of the real, not the deluded world--the i 19 severed finger of the victim. ^ Beatrice's reaction is iinoderate and consists merely of feminine squeamishness. ’She is concerned primarily with the ring which remains on ■the bloody finger and shows no signs of an awakening to the ihorror of human death by violence. A nightmare mood pre vails. Imperiously, like the aristocratic lady she has 19 This incident does not occur in the Reynolds' story. Apparently Middleton invented it to heighten the dramatic ’effectiveness of this scene. It serves to reinforce the fact of Beatrice's blindness to the significance of the icrime which she has committed. 186 been reared to exemplify* Beatrice offers DeFlores the ring and money as payment for his services. I DeFlores., his eyesight ever clear, refuses her gold., I I and reminds her that this murder has joined them in mutual | i guilt. Half roused from her lethargy, Beatrice begins to ! feel the terror of desperation, for she realizes that DeFlores "speaks home" (87). Whereupon DeFlores attempts to kiss her. Her reaction is, as before, one of imperious ! I disdain. She rebuffs him for forgetting that the differ- j i ence in their social station makes any romantic relation- j ship impossible. Also, she points out that she, as a lady 1 of honor, must preserve her chastity until marriage. DeFlores, who sees the truth, laughs at her: "Push [sic ] j you forget your selfel/ A woman dipt in blood, and talk of i I modesty?" (125-126), Then he cold-bloodedly exposes the : real Beatrice-~a woman who can no longer pretend to be a I , great and virtuous lady, but an ordinary person like him- iself; no longer a maid, but a whore at heart (131-139)* Stripped of her cherished honor and virtue, Beatrice can do nothing but kneel in subjection, begging for mercy. How different is this scene from the one in which the Duch ess of Malfi kneels before Bosolal The Duchess was strong in her humility, but Beatrice retains no dignity whatso ever, DeFlores promises that he will give her the love 1 she has feared. And so they depart, partners not only in Imurder, but in licentious passion. Henceforth the relation 187 ship between these two individuals approaches a marriage of spirit as well as of flesh. Beatrice even comes to profess a loyalty to DeFlores which a wife might have for her hus- 20 ' band, for she looks upon him with admiration, exclaiming, "A wondrous necessary man, my Lord" (V.1.91)- ; i Beatrice's apparent nobility, chastity, and beauty pale still further as she becomes the melancholy slave of s passion who must struggle frantically to conceal her crimes | and who, with progressive despair, moves deeper and deeper j into entanglement and deceit. She never achieves any of j the pleasures she has dreamed of; she' knows only intense j i suffering caused by her own rash decision. She is trapped | into an alliance with DeFlores from which she can never ex- j tricate herself, She engages in frantic efforts to conceal j her crimes. She must pretend to virginity, and in order to j do so she must sacrifice her wedding night with Alsemero. ! Then, because the hired bride, Diaphantha, overstays her :visit with Alsemero, she too must be murdered. With these 'new complications, Beatrice verges on panic and turns to DeFlores repeatedly for guidance and protection. Eventually ; 20 T. S. Eliot finds that the relationship between 'Beatrice and DeFlores becomes very intimate indeed, for he ■writes, "And in the end Beatrice, having been so long the enforced conspirator of DeFlores, becomes (and this is per manently true of human nature) more his partner, his mate, |than the mate and partner of the man for the love of whom .she consented to the crime," Essays, p. 87. See also Rich- ;ard Barker, Thomas Middleton, p. 128, 188 she loses all initiative for decisions of her own. When Alsemero finally discovers the nature of her relationship with DeFlores (V.iii), she makes one last defensive gesture by insinuating that he is also morally responsible for the | | death of Piracquo. Alsemero, however., rejects her claim and orders her to submit to his authority. She enters his ! closet as a prisoner, passively and without hope. And so, in the overall scope of the play, Beatrice, ' who initially simulates the pose of a beautiful and lofty and virtuous heroine, is reduced to a weak and helpless ; I creature. Her rebellion against her father, her assertion ; of individual freedom, leads only to murder and adultery j for which she is ostracized from society. She becomes the victim of her own passionate dreams and bloody actions. Alsemero regards the woman he once loved with disgust, and , ! mutters, "Here's beauty chang'd / To ugly whoredom: here servant obedience / To a master-sin, imperious murder . . ." ■ (V.iii.197-198). She can sink no further. j In the conclusion of a literary work, according to Renaissance tradition, reason and justice must triumph over corruption and injustice. Unquestionably, John Reynolds' history of Beatrice is a testament to such a triumph. In , < 'it all the guilty are punished: Beatrice and DeFlores die i at the hand of Alsemero, and later Alsemero is executed 189 21 for his own transgressions. In addition,, divine retribu tion (as promised by the title of the volume) is effected when the bodies of the illicit lovers are disinterred and burned and Alsemero's corpse is thrown into the sea, acts which forever preclude the entrance of these sinners into a > Christian heaven. The moral of such a story Reynolds makes . abundantly clear: Sith in the day of judgment we shal answers at Gods ; great Tribunal! for every lewde thought our hearts con- j ceive, and idle words our tongues utter, how then shall j we dare appeare, (much lesse think to scape) when we defile our bodies with the polution of adulterie, and taint our soules with the innocent blood of our Chris tian brethern? (pp. 105-106) j. The Changeling follows its source in that both Bea trice and DeFlores die, and Alsemero states that virtue has 1 triumphed in the re-establishment of civil and moral order: . . . justice hath so right ' The guilty hit, that innocence is quit By proclamation, and may joy agen. (V,iii,I85-I87) j Unquestionably, in terms of moral tradition, Beatrice j ;has been guilty of monstrous crimes against society and de serves punishment. Scholars usually explain her conduct as 22 1 either depraved or lacking in moral fibre. However, T. S. p - j Pp. 137 and 148. Alsemero kills the lovers when he ifinds•them in bed together. Middleton and Rowley do not 'place this emphasis on physical lust. 22 Robert Ornstein calls Beatrice morally obtuse. The :Moral Vision of Jacobean Tragedy (Madison, i960), p. 185. ■Helen Gardner is uncertain whether Beatrice has a moral .sense at all, but suggests that she may develop one as a '.result of moral instinct "Milton's 1 Satanr and the Theme of 190 Eliot suggests that Beatrice is an unmoral creature whose misfortune reveals something of the truth of human nature at all times and in all places (Essays, p, 86). The concluding events serve to corroborate Eliot’s thesis. Beatrice's final moments demonstrate not only the triumph of virtue over sin, but they also reveal the fact that tragedy can be blamed in part on the human condition itself, because man's natural passion often proves stronger ; than his capacity to reason. And so Middleton's and Row- j ley's concluding moral lesson seems tentative rather•than i absolute. For example,tin The Changeling, Beatrice dies, j i not at the hand of an -avenger (as in Reynolds' story)., but J she is stabbed to death by her partner, DeFlores, who then I kills himself. Their deaths, therefore, are not so much I acts of retribution made by society against criminals as i j they are the wilful efforts of the protagonists themselves : to escape society. To Beatrice and DeFlores (as to the Duchess and Bosola), it is life, not death, which presents Damnation in Elizabethan Tragedy," English Studies I, n.s. (1948), 55-58, Richard Barker finds Beatrice not only im moral, but irresponsible5 For Middleton is quite clearly illustrating his view, implicit in some of his other plays at least, that women seldom show much sense of morality or much inclination to expostulate with themselves. In The Changeling he is specifically concerned with a woman who has no sense of morality at all and is so set on getting her "will" that she becomes completely irresponsible, Middleton, 1 p. 124, •See also Samuel Schoenbaum, Middleton's Tragedies, pp. l4l- : 144. horrors. Although* In her dying moments, Beatrice realizes the depths to which she has sunk, she remains as helpless to af firm the values of reason and morality as she was unable to resist the degradation of passion. She sees that her own body has been poisoned by the same poison which infected DeFlores.. She warns Alsemero to keep his distance to avoid contamination: 0 come not neer me, sir, I shall defile you; 1 am that of your blood was taken from you For your better health; look no more upon't But cast it to the ground regardlessly; Let the common sewer take it from distinction Beneath the starres; upon yon Meteor [DeFlores] Ever hang my fate, Tmongst things corruptible; I ne’er could pluck it from him, my loathing Was Prophet to the rest, but ne'er beleev'd; Mine honour fell with him, and now my life. (Y.iii,. 149-158) In her confession, therefore, Beatrice acknowledges that the poison with which she has been infected, trans mitted to her by DeFlores, was something which she could not resist. DeFlores, as suggested previously, represents i 2 1 the malevolent force of passion J that dwells in her own 'body. The effect of DeFlores' poison has been like a lever i ^Shakespeare makes use of the concept of poison in a ; sense similar to this. Iago (whom DeFlores certainly re- isembles), enraged over Othello's failure to promote him, :plans to "poison his delight" (l.i.68). Poison, therefore, has the implied meaning of malicious evil. Poison also ;figures in the action of Hamlet and, since it is twice ad ministered by the villainous Claudius, poison may be as sociated with the "something" that is rotten in Denmark. 192 to release these passions. Now.,'-helpless., dying * repentant, Beatrice begs Alsemero to understand and forgive her. "For give me, Alsemero, all forgive," she pleads (178)- Al semero, righteous man that he is, cannot grant her request. To Beatrice, then, life is hollow, empty, negative, and she 1 is glad to die for, "Tis time to die, when 'tis a shame to ! live" (179). [ DeFlores also looks to death as if it afforded a pos- [ i sibility of something preferable to life. He implies that | he killed Beatrice to save her from the vengeance of soci- 1 ety, and that he has stabbed himself for the same reason. [ I As they lie dying, he calls to her, much as a lover might 1 24 ' call his beloved, to join him in a reunion in death: I Make haste, Joanna, by that token to thee,-- j Canst not -forget, so lately put in mind, I would not goe to leave thee far behind. ! (175-177) I The survivors of the tragedy seem satisfied with the I j moral which Alsemero asserts in his statement that justice Jhas "hit" the guilty (185-189), and each one recites a con fession of the changes he has made from wisdom to folly, and resolves to be wise henceforth. However, once again, ■ 24 : . This attitude of defiance toward conventional moral ity which is suggested by Beatrice and DeFlores is given [emphasis in a later play by John Ford. At the conclusion of 'Tis Fity She1s A Whore (1633), Giovanni murders his sis- : ter Annabella (with whom he has enjoyed a incestuous rela tionship) in order to save her from the revenge of her hus- [band. Giovanni and Annabella are convinced of the validity [of their love and anticipate a reunion in death. 193 new factors are added which tend to detract from the effi- i cacy of the moral indictment of sinners, Vermandero, for | example, grieves over the disgrace which has been cast upon his family name (l80). Alsemero turns his thoughts from j l the punishment.of sinners to the grief which the death of i loved ones brings to their family. In the epilogue he ex- j presses none of the harsh criticism of Beatrice which he j (has shown earlier. Instead,, he pleads for compassion for : i those who sorrow and urges men to comfort one another in I the face of the inevitable misfortunes of life. The only j means of comfort, he confesses, is a smiles 1 All we can doe, to Comfort one another, To stay a Brothers sorrow for a Brother, ; To Dry a Child from the kinde Fathers eyes-- j Is to no purpose, it rather multiplies: j Your only smiles have power to cause re-live : The Dead agen, or in their Rooms to give ; Brother a new Brother, Father a Child; : If these appear, All griefs are reconcile. (Epilogue) The change in emphasis from God's triumph over sin l I '(as demonstrated in the Reynolds' story) to an attempt to l console a father's grief is evidence that Middleton and Rowley were not concerned so much in writing a morally di dactic play as they were concerned with writing a human tragedy which takes place in a world in which moral order 25 ;is not always clearly discernable. v : 25 In accord with most scholarly opinion, Una Ellis- Fermor finds no rigid moral theory in the.play, Jacobean i Drama, p. 129. Richard Barker criticizes the ending of the 194 The scope of the action of this play is far more limited than in any of the other tragedies examined in this study. No kingdoms have been saved. Only one innocent per son has died (for Diaphanta's lust which led to her death i is to be judged as sinful). The lives of two transgressors who threatened the safety of the community by their criminal acts have been snuffed out, and the public calm has been I restored. However, the dramatic significance of The Change-4 1 r i i ling transcends the triumph of justice over the misdeeds of | t two erring persons. Beatrice's plight is elemental; it | cannot be ignored. She stumbles through self-inflicted blindness and is trapped forever. For her there can be no j forgiveness, no salvation, but only the solemn recognition | of perpetual fallibility of man and womankind. j Middleton's other tragedy, Woman Beware Women, pro- * vides something further in the way of a clue to his atti tudes toward fallible human nature. In .this play, signifi- ! |cantly, there is no primary protagonist. The action is perpetrated by a number of major characters, not one of .which bears any strong resemblance to a traditional hero or iheroine. Each of these, like Beatrice, stumbles and falls. ,play because he finds the retribution psychological rather than moral, Middleton, p. 143, Irving Ribner, Jacobean Tragedy (New York, 1962) sees a recognition and acceptance of evil in the world, p. 124, and Samuel Schoenbaum writes 'that the play reveals a somber and disturbing world, but ■one in which the apparent operation of moral order can | still be observed, Middleton's Tragedies, pp. 149-150. 195 These chief characters are grouped into two sets of appar ently genuine lovers (Leanto and Blanca, and Hippolito and Isabella) who suffer from blindness similar to Beatrice’s, but eventually recognize that their relationship is based om i I passionate love rather than rational love. Their tragedy, i however, occurs at the hand of other characters whose pre- i occupations with lust for sex, money, and social position mothy£te^ them to lead the four potential heroes into corrup tion. Hence, even the apparently virtuous protagonists are | i helpless against the combined pressures of their own sus- ! ceptibility to passion and the conspiracy of a depraved so- , ciety. In the conclusion of the play, evil destroys evil | 26 ' in a bloodly massacre. j i In The Changeling, the progressive change in Beatrice1 ^ I character corresponds with the diminution in her stature as 1 t a protagonist. The gracious lady at the opening of the ' play who appears to be elevated by the aristocratic nature i jof her breeding, the courtly graces of her manner, and the ibeauty of her face is, by the end of the play, gravely al tered because she is unable to resist human passion. Al- 26 Edward Engleberg observes that the stumbling of Mid dleton's blinded characters results in their steady decline. iHe suggests that Middleton’s view of human nature is that individuals use blindness to shut out the consequences of an Impulsive act and then seek to impose their wills on a ^rigid and indifferent world by victimizing others equally as blind, "Tragic Blindness in The Changeling and Women Be- ware Women," Modern Language Quarterly, XXXIII (March 19b2), , 20-26. 196 though she earnestly desires to maintain the facade of honor and virtue3 reason and judgment, she discovers that her per sonal will cannot be reconciled to the rules of society. She endeavors to blind herself to this fact and by so doing j gradually surrenders to an emotion which is so strong that , I she becomes incapable of controlling her own destiny. As she submits to the domination of DeFlores,- she gradually , i i shrinks in stature, a process which is symbolized by her ! ( capitulation to him on her knees, and thus she becomes the j i servant of his will. Beatrice changes from the ideal to J j the real, from the lady to the whore. ! CONCLUSION In the five Jacobean plays discussed in this study,, , the playwrights have created protagonists who exemplify the ; ! traditional hero of epic and tragic literature to a limited degree. Each protagonist has characteristics of a eonven- i tional type and follows conventional behavior patterns asso ciated with literary traditions. However, as has been demonstrated, the playwrights, by the use of paradox and realistic techniques, have reduced the ostensive hero to a : I lesser man who discovers that he is involved in a struggle j to assert his own nature in a cruel and vindictive world. I Although the chief protagonists of Jacobean tragical | drama are drawn from traditional types found in epic and jtragedy, they do not all possess the high social and polit- l iieal rank of the conceptual hero. Antonio (in Antonio1s ' Revenge) and the Duchess of Malfi (in the play of the same ■name) are the only protagonists who bear aristocratic ti- . ties. The other protagonists (in The Revengerrs Tragedy, Bussy D'Ambois and The Changeling) belong to the gentry, 'but hold lower rank. Bussy D'Ambois is presented as the illegitimate son of a Cardinal and, hence, is a man without iprestige or wealth. The Duchess' husband, Antonio, although 198 a gentleman by birth,, is condemned as a man of inferior so cial station. The two women protagonists, the Duchess and Beatrice, are inferior to men in the social scheme. In ad dition, because the social rank is not emphasized, the pro tagonists often appear to represent any man or woman of the | seventeenth century, regardless of class. j In accord with the initial aura of elevated social j status of the hero, the protagonists of these plays appear j to follow conventional standards of decorum. However, they i I often make striking departures from decorum. In general, i i they each attempt to follow the superficial modes of behav- j ior which are suitable for their position, but as they do so they tend to follow their hearts rather than listen to the dictates of reason. They are particularly susceptible ! i to melancholy and sexual passion. Here again the charac- j ters express themselves in a traditional manner which is |augmented with an emotional sensitivity that suggests an individualized and "realistic" pattern of behavior. Bea trice, Bussy D'Ambois, and the Duchess of Malfi fall in love with persons whom they may not marry with propriety and, instead of breaking off the relationship, they proceed to establish liaisons. All of the protagonists are touched by melancholy. Sometimes they are so grief-stricken that .they lose the capacity to reason and become either inert (Antonio) or violent (Beatrice, Vindici). Bussy D'Ambois discards his melancholy early in the play and Is able to 199 act., but does so with excessive passion. The Duchess suf fers under desperate circumstances., but she alone., of all the protagonists, is able to maintain rational control. Also, two minor protagonists, Bosola in The Duchess, of Malfi and DePlores in The Ghangeling, are malcontent types who achieve individualized personalities. Often the protagonist attempts to act with heroic prowess, but discovers that he is weaker than the anatago- nists of the play. Antonio is dominated by Piero, Bus.sy is stabbed in the back, the’ Duchess .and Beatrice must submit to male domination. The Duchess' husband, Antonio, is powerless to help protect his wife. In Antonio's Revenge, The Revenger's Tragedy, The Duchess of Malfi, and The . . 1 Changeling, a plethora of protagonists are required to bring the play to a conclusion, and no one individual is truly responsible for the climactic .conclusion, 1 Thus, the playwrights reduce the stature of their ^protagonists from the elevated concept of the traditional hero by lowering their social and political stature, by rendering them incapable of repressing their emotions, and 'by providing them with antagonists who are stronger than they. The effect of these departures from tradition is to 'make the protagonist seem more "realistic" in that they have characteristics of men'and women in an everyday world who do not have heroic prowess. 200 Also, in these plays the humanized protagonists de part from the conventional concept of heroic action. The protagonist may wish to emulate the hero of epic and trag edy by an attack against a villain (Antonio, Bussy D'Ambois,) Yindici), or, like the protagonist of novelle, he may be , concerned primarily with a desire to find happiness in his j personal life (Duchess, Beatrice). Whatever his motive, j the protagonist expresses a protest against his own comrau- j nity instead of the affirmation of the hero, a protest which often takes the form of a revolt. The community re- ■ sponds with hostility, and the protagonist soon finds that | i he is exiled either physically or spiritually and is ulti- J mately victimized for his non-conformity. j This protest varies according to the specific lite- ; rary tradition in which the play is written, but in each j case, by an ironic reversal of tradition, revolt, exile, : and victimization occur instead of the conventional tragic ipattern of courageous action, error, and affirmation. The Iprotagonist of revenge tragedy follows the tradition of private protest against a person who has caused injury to ■a member of his family. However, in the case of Antonio and Yindici, he extends his attack to the society as a j 'whole, which he discovers is also corrupt. The protagonist achieves his revenge, but he discovers that his revolt has brought'catastrophe to himself. Antonio struggles success fully against the wicked Piero, but learns that by destroy- ■ 201 ing evil he has also lost virtue, Vindici extends his re venge to an attack on the corrupt political hierarchy and ; i I is condemned for his bloody purge. | i Protagonists derived from the English adaptation of i the Italianate novelle are not concerned so much with re- i venge as they are with a desire to assert their private I needs in a restricted., but not necessarily corrupt, society,! i but they too suffer because they depart from traditional | i conduct. The Duchess of Malfi marries the man she loves j with the full knowledge that she will enrage her brothers j by so doing. Beatrice-Joanna also resolves to marry the I man she loves. Both women revolt against authority, are j exiled, and victimized. The Duchess tries unsuccessfully j to conceal her marriage, but is murdered by her outraged j brother. Beatrice commissions murder and is punished for j | her crime. ! The two protagonists who appear to be derived from ;two other traditional literary forms also experience the 'revolt-exile-victim syndrome. Bussy D'Ambois, the Hercule an scourge, attempts to reform the politically corrupt soci ety, but -succeeds only in alienating it by his forthright expression of his own emotions and is therefore victimized 'in retaliation, Vindici, the morality figure (as well as ; revenge hero) believes he is enacting the vengeance of God, ibut instead carries out an excessively violent revenge* of Iman for which he is punished. 202 j At the conclusion of these plays,, in accord with tra dition, the social order is restored, the transgressing hero punished, and a moral is expressed. But the order is only tentative, the hero is unrepentant, and the moral is i seldom apt. The moral points out the victory of virtue 1 over vice, but evil persists. The heroic protagonists look; forward to death as an escape from the misery of living > I (except for Antonio who must live on, but will do so in a | cloister), and so they do not affirm the community values, j The newly-purged society does not have secure foundations. | In Bussy D'Ambois the political actions of the court remain , unchanged. In The Revenger1s Tragedy, an old man Is given ^ the leadership. In The Duchess of Malfi, a young child will rule. In Antonio's Revenge, the hero who inherits the dukedom rejects his responsibility and goes into exile. In The Changeling, a father is childless and a husband has lost I , Ihis wife. The restoration of order, therefore, does not 'seem to be triumphant in actuality. Instead, an air of fu- Itility and possibly sterility pervades. Few of the protagonists emerge from the action of ,these plays with an aura of a hero. The Duchess has heroic spirit, but she accomplishes no feats of glory. Antonio is victorious, but he scorns his own achievement. Bussy D'Ambois has the demeanor of a hero, but makes petty com- imitments. Vindici accomplishes his goal of ridding the so- jciety of a corrupt Duke and his family, but his conduct is ' 203 villainous rather than heroic. Beatrice-Joanna, because of her passionate devotion to Alsemero, is a murderer and a whore, Thus, these protagonists are unheroic heroes, anti- I heroes, individuals who are so concerned with their own j i problems that they lose sight of the goal of the hero, which is to foster the community values. As the Jacobean age was one in which the playwrights found the tradition of heroism clouded, so is the contempo rary age. The Jacobean protagonist, disguised in the the- j t atrical trappings of his day, is the spiritual predecessor j of the modern anti-hero. However, the modern playwright j has lost the.sense of tradition which still persisted in j l the seventeenth century. This sense of tradition was re- j i I sponsible for a revival of the hero in the later portion of • j the seventeenth century who persists in literature until ! the nineteenth century. Therefore, this study of Jacobean protagonists is titled "A Preview of the 'Vanishing Hero.'1 LIST OF WORKS CITED 204 LIST OP WORKS CITED Adams, Henry Hitch. English Domestic Or, Homiletic Tragedy 1575 to 1642. New York: Columbia University Press., — Anderson, Ruth Lelia. Elizabethan Psychology in Shakes peare's Plays. Iowa City, 1927- (University of Iowa Humanistic Studies, Vol. Ill, no, 4.) Aseham, Roger, The Scholemaster, ed. Edward Arber, London, 1870. Axelrad, A. Jose. Un Malcontent Elizabetain: John Marston (1576-1634). Paris: Didier, 1955* Babb, Lawrence. The Elizabethan Malady. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1951, Barker, Richard H. Thomas Middleton. New York: Columbia University Pressi 1958• Battenhouse, Roy W. "Chapman and the Nature of Man." In Elizabethan Drama: Modern Essays in Criticism, ed. R. J. Kaufmann. New York: Oxford University Press, 1961. Reprinted from ELH, XII (June 1945), 87-107. |Boas, Frederick S. An Introduction to Stuart Drama. 0x- ; ford: Oxford University Press, 1946. Bodkin, Maud. Archetypal Patterns in Poetry. London: Ox ford University Press, 1934. Bogard, Travis. The Tragic Satire of John Webster. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1955* Boklund, Gunnar. The Duchess of Malfi, Sources, Themes, Characters. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962. ■Bowers, Predson Thayer. Elizabethan Revenge Tragedy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 194O'. 205 206 Bowra, C. M. Heroic Poetry. London: Macmillan and Company, Ltd., 1961.. Boyer, Clarence Valentine. The Villain as Hero in Elizabe- than Tragedy. London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., 19 W. Bradbrook, M. C. Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan ' Tragedy. Cambridge: At the University Press, 1935- Breton, Nicholas. Melancholike Humours, ed. G. B. Harrison.; London: The Scholartis Press, 1929, ‘ i Brooke, Rupert. John Webster and the Elizabethan Drama, London: Sidgwick and Jackson, Ltd., 1916, j Bush, Douglas. Mythology and the Renaissance Tradition in | English Poetry, ' 2nd ed. New York: ¥ . ¥ . Norton and j Company, Inc., 1963. Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. New S York: Pantheon Books, Inc., 1949. 1 i Campbell, Lily Bess. Shakespeare's Tragic Heroes: Slaves ! of Passion. Cambridge; The University Press, 1930. | Caputi, Anthony. John Marston, Satirist. Ithaca: Cornell j University Press, 1961. ! Castiglione, Baldassare. The Book of the Courtier, trans. ; Sir Thomas Hoby. London: J. M. Dent & Son, Ltd., 1928. ! !Chapman, George. Bussy D'Ambois, ed. Nicholas Brooke. London: Methuen and Company, Ltd., 1964. , ________________. Bussy D'Ambois, ed, Robert J. Lordi. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1964. _____________ The Plays of George Chapman: The Trag edies, ed. Thomas Marc Parrott. 2 vols. New York; Russell & Russell, Inc., 1961. Craig, Hardin. "Ethics in the Jacobean Drama: The Case of Chapman." In Essays in Dramatic Literature: The Par rott Presentation Volume, ed, Hardin Craig. Prince ton; Princeton University Press, 1935. ;Cunliffe, John ¥. The Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy. London’ : .1893• 207 DeVries, Jan. Heroic Song and Heroic Legend, trans. B. J. Timmer. London: Oxford University Press., 1963. Doranj Madeleine. Endeavors of Art: A Study of Form in Elizabethan Drama.■ Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1954• Draper, John W, The Humors and Shakespeare's Characters. , New York: AMS Press, Inc,, 1945. : Duckworth, George E,, ed. The Complete Roman Drama, 2 vols. New Yorks Random House, 1942.. ! Ekeblad, Inga Stina. "The TImpure Art' of John Webster." 1 In Elizabethan Drama: Modern Essays in Criticism, ed. : R. J. Kaufmann, New Yorks Oxford University Press, ; 1961. Reprinted from Review of English Studies, n.s, j ix (1958), 253-267. I I Eliot, T. S. Essays in Elizabethan Drama. New York: Har- | court, Brace & World & Co., 1932, j Ellis-Fermor, U, M. The Jacobean Drama, 4th ed. London: I Methuen and Company, Ltd,, 1961'. Engelberg, Edward. "Tragic Blindness in The Changeling and Women Beware Women," Modern Language Quarterly, XXIIT ; (March 1962)7 20-28. j Ewing, S. Blaine. Burtonian Melancholy in the Plays of John Ford, Princeton, .1940. (Princeton Studies in ! English, No. 19.) I 1 Farnham, Willard, The Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1956. :Fergusson, Francis. The Idea of a Theatre. New Yorks Doubleday-Anchor Books, 1949. Foakes, R. A. "John Marston's Fantastical Plays; Antonio and Mellida and Antonio’s Revenge." Philological Quarterly, XLI (January 1962), 229-239- Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. ; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957. Gardner, Helen. "Milton's ’Satan' and the Theme of Damna- I tion in Elizabethan Tragedy," English Studies, I, n.s. ; (1948), 46-66. - 208 Harrier., Richard C, An Anthology of Jacobean Drama, 2 vols. New York* New York University Press, 1963* Hartt, Julian N. The Lost Image of Man. Baton Rouge! Louisiana State University Press, 1963- Ha thorn, Richmond Y. Tragedy, P^yth, and Mystery. Bloom- j ington: Indiana University Press^ 1962. j 1 Haydn, Hiram. The Counter-Renaissance. New York: Charles [ Scribner's Sons, 1950. i Henn, T. R. The Harvest of Tragedy. London: Methuen and j Company, Ltd., 1956. ’ ! l Higgins, Michael* "The Convention of the Stoic Hero as : Handled by Marston," The Modern Language Review, 1 XXXIX (October 1944), 338-346, ~ ~ | Hunter, C. K. "English Polly and Italian Vice: The Moral i Landscape of John Marston." In Jacobean Theatre: ! Stratford on Avon Series I, ed. John Russell Brown and j Bernard Harris. New York: St. Martin's Press, i960. i Jack, Ian. "The Case of John Webster," Scrutiny, XVI j (March 1949), 38-43. | i Leech, Clifford. John Webster: A Critical Study. London: I The Hogarth Press, 1951. I ________________. Webster: The Duchess of Malfi. Great j Neck, N.Y.: Barrens Educational Series, Inc., 1963. Lisca, Peter. "The Revenger's Tragedy: A Study in Irony," • Philological Quarterly, XXXVIII (April 1959), 242-251. : Lucas, F. L, Tragedy; Serious Drama in Relation to Aris- totle's Poetics. New York; The Macmillan Company, 19555 Mandel, Oscar. A Definition of Tragedy. New York: New York University Press, 1961, 'Marston, John. The Plays of John Marston, ed. H, Harvey , Wood, 3 vols. Edinburgh: Tweedale Court, 1934. ______________. Antonio's Revenge: The Second Part of Anto nio and Mellida, ed. C. K. Hunter. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1967. 209 Marston^ John. Antonio and. Mellida: The First Fart, ed. C. K. Hunter. Lincoln; University of Nebraska Press, 1965. McCollom, William G. "The Tragic Hero and Chapman’s Bussy D'Ambois," University of Toronto Quarterly, XVIII (April 1949), 227-233* | McNamee, Maurice B., S.J. Honor and the Epic Hero. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc., 1959- i Middleton, Thomas and William Rowley. The Changeling, ed, j N. W. Bawcutt. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University | Press, 1958. ______________________________________ , The Changeling, ed. George Walton Williams. Lincoln; University of Nebras-* ka Press> 1966. f i Muir, Edward. "’Royal Man,T Notes on the Tragedies of j George Chapman." In Shakespeare's Contemporaries, ed. i Max Bluestone and Norman Rabkin, New Jersey: Prentice! Hall, Inc., 1961. Reprinted from Essays on Literature j and Society. London: 19^9- j Murray, Peter B. A Study of Cyril Tourneur. Philadelphia: ^ University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984'. Myers, Henry Alonzo. Tragedy: A View of Life, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1956. 1 ~~ Oates, J. C. "The Comedy of Metamorphosis in The Revenger's Tragedy," Buchnell Review, XI (1962), 38-52* O’Paolain, Sean. The Vanishing Hero: Studies in Novelists of the Twenties. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1956. Ornstein, Robert, The Moral Vision of Jacobean Tragedy. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, i960. Painter, William, The Pallace of Pleasure Beautified. Vol. 2. London! 1569. __________________. The Pallace of Pleasure Beautified, ed. Joseph Jacobs. London, 1890. Parrott, Thomas Marc and Robert Hamilton Ball. A Short View of Elizabethan Drama, New York: Charles Scrib- ner’s Sons, 19^3 • 210 Perkinson* Richard H. "Nature and the Tragic Hero in Chap man's Bussy Plays*" Modern Language Quarterly* III (June 1942)* 263-285. i 1 Raglan* Lord [F.R.R.S,] The Hero; A Study in Tradition* Myth* and Drama. London: Watts and Company* 1936• Rees* Ennis. The Tragedies of George Chapman. Cambridgej j Mass.: Harvard University Press* 195^ • Reynolds* John. The Triumphs of Gods Revenge* Against the i crying* and execrable Sinne of Murther: or His Miracu- 1 lous discoveries and severe punishments thereof. , London: 1621. ! Ribner* Irving. Jacobean Tragedy; The Quest for Moral ! Order. New York: Barnes and Noble* Inc. * 1962’ . j Salinger* L.. G. "The Revenger's Tragedy and the Morality I Tradition*" Scrutiny* VI (March1938)^ 402-422. ! Schlauch* Margaret. Antecedents of the English Novel l400- ' l600. London: Oxford University Press* 1963. ■ Schoenbaum* Samuel. Middleton's Tragedies. New York: | Columbia University Press* 1955* j _________. "The Precarious Balance of John Mars- I ton." In Elizabethan Drama: Modern Essays in Criti cism* ed. R. J. Kaufmann. New York: Oxford University ! Press* 1961. Reprinted from PMLA* LXVIT (December 1957), 1069-1078. I 'Schucking* Levin Ludwig. The Baroque Character of the Eliz- ; abethan Tragic Hero. London: Proceedings of the Brit ish Academy* 1938'. Schwartz* Elias, "Seneca* Homer and Chapman's Bussy D'Am- bois*"The Journal of English and Germanic Philology* LVT (1957)> 163-173. Sewall* Richard B. ThevVision of Tragedy. New Haven: Yale ^ University Press* 1959- 1 Simpson* Percy. Studies in Elizabethan Drama. Oxford: At ; the Clarendon Press* 1955- Spencer* Theodore, Death and Elizabethan Tragedy. Cam- | bridge* Mass.: Harvard University Press* 1936. 211 Stoll, Elmer E, "Heroes and Villains: Shakespeare* Middle- tons Byron., Dickens*" Review of English Studies* XVIII (July 1942)* 257-269. . "Shakespeare* Marston and the Malcontent Type*Modern Philology* III (January 1906)* 281-303* Tillyard* E. M. W. The Elizabethan World Picture. New ! York: The Macmillan Company* 1944, I Tomlinson* T. B. A Study of Elizabethan and Jacobean Trag- 1 edy. Cambridge: At The University Press* 1964. ; Tourneur* Cyril. The Revenger's Tragedy* ed. R. A. Foakes. ; London: Methuen and Company* Ltd.* 1966. : ________________. The Works of Cyril Tourneur* ed. Allardyce Nicoll. New York: Russell and Russell* Inc.* 1963. I ________________ . The Revenger's Tragedy* ed. Lawrence J. Ross. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press* 1966. I Trevelyan* George Macaulay, England Under the Stuarts* 8th ' ed, London: Methuen and Company* Ltd.* 1919- j ___________________________ . Illustrated English Social His- j tory. 4 vols, London: Longmans* Green and Company* , W & - \ Ure* Peter. "Chapman's Tragedies." In Jacobean Theatre: Stratford on Avon Series I* ed. John Russell Brown and Bernard Harris. New York: St, Martin's Press* i960. jWadsworth, Frank W. "Webster's Duchess of Malfi in the Light of Contemporary Ideas on Marriage and Remarriage*" Philological Quarterly* XXXV (October 1956)* 394-407* Waith* Eugene M. The Herculean Hero. New York: Columbia University Pre's s* 19627 .Webster* John. The Complete Works of John Webster* ed, F. L. LucasT 4 vols. London: Chatto and Windus* 1927. ______________. The Duchess of Malfi* ed. Elizabeth M. Bren nan. New York: Hill and Wang* 1966. . . _________. The Duchess of Malfi* ed. John Russell Brown, London: Methuen and Company* Ltd.* 1964. 212 Websterj John, Webster's The Duchess of Malfi, ed. Clif ford Leech. Great Neck, N.J. i Barron's Educational Series, Inc.., 19^3. j Wells, Henry W. Elizabethan and Jacobean Playwrights,. 2nd 1 ed. New York: Columbia University Press, 1939- | Wright, Louis B. Middle-class Culture in Elizabethan Eng- | land. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press,! 1935- ; Zebouni, Selma Assir. Dryden: A Study in Heroic Character- I ization. Baton Rouge, 19&5. (Louisiana State Unive’ r- } sity Studies, No. 16.) i I L _

Abstract (if available)

Linked assets