“Of one so young, so rich in nature’s store,

Who could not say, ‘Tis pity she’s a whore?” (5.6.160-1).

These words, which bring the play to a close, deserve some more attention: 

First of all, we might ask ourselves whether the Cardinal’s choice of the word “pity” is appropriate.  Is pity the right word?  In my opinion, no.  Stating the phrase “’Tis pity she’s a whore,” and entitling the play so, is far too simple.  Indeed, the playful rhyme of these last lines is in keeping with this notion.

As for the word “pity” itself, which gets thrown around a lot throughout the play, especially when Vasques talks about Soranzo (e.g. 4.3.131, 5.6.117)—further trivializing its significance—there are actually several alternative words used earlier in the play that might better describe what we feel.  In addition, Vasques uses pity, in these cases, as a verb (e.g. “so much I pity him” at 4.3.131).  Vasques pities Soranzo.  Notice the distinction between this “pity,” as a verb, and the Cardinal’s “’Tis pity she’s a whore,” where “pity” is used as a noun and is not really directed at Annabella at all but, rather, at the situation that her being a “whore” has created.  Further, calling Annabella a “whore” is, arguably, an unjustified and simplified remark, as Annabella never intentionally uses her sexuality to “whorish” ends.

The friar, with an, arguably, less simplistic interpretation, blames the city itself: “Parma, farewell! Would I had never known thee, / Or aught of thine!” (5.3.67-8).  Believing there is nothing he can do, the friar further leaves Giovanni “to despair” (5.3.69).  Would “’Tis pity Parma is corrupt,” or something along those lines, be more appropriate?  Or, alternatively, does simply fleeing Parma reveal the friar’s even more oversimplified take on the situation?  After all, Giovanni does experience relief through death, which he describes as “a guest long looked for” (5.6.106).  Even Soranzo claims to be “well pleased” in his death (5.6.91).

Giovanni calls Annabella and himself “traitors” (5.3.37).  In the scene with the letter on the balcony, Annabella herself describes the situation as “A wretched, woeful woman’s tragedy!” (5.1.8).  In the familiar playful fashion of the Cardinal, Annabella concludes this balcony scene with the couplet: “Thanks to the heavens, who have prolonged my breath / To this good use! Now I can welcome death” (5.1.58-9).  Does Annabella herself oversimplify the “real problem”?

Instead of thinking about what the “right” response (pity? woe? etc.) might be, maybe the better question is: what ist the “real problem” in Parma?  Is it really Annabella?  Is it the incest?  Social norms?  If possible, think back to what you felt the “real problem” might be in other revenge tragedies.  For example, The Jew of Malta ends with the strange and unfulfilling couplet delivered by Ferneze: “So, march away, and let due praise be given / Neither to fate or fortune, but to heaven” (5.5.23).  We discussed the notion that this ending falls flat and that we do not necessarily believe that all is finally well in Malta. So, was Barabas himself really the problem, or was it Malta?  Or something else?

Feel free to talk about any of the other plays we have read as well.  For example, is there something in The Spanish Tragedy, which also has a scene with a letter written in blood, that can help us make sense of ‘Tis Pity?  It may be helpful to compare these scenes side-by-side.

Bibliography

To get us started in compiling our bibliography, I'm posting Will's sources here. (Will, you're not locked into using these, of course.) As you leaf through different sources and start developing ideas / questions, please add your thoughts as comments to this post. Though the bibliography will be most useful for those of you who are writing research papers, it should still prove handy for everybody -- including those of you who are writing revenge tragedies / city comedies of your own. You might leaf through a source or two to help you think about how best to use / rework the generic conventions we've been discussing.

Beauregard, David N. “‘That Great Supremacy’: Kings and Cardinals in Kings John and Henry VIII.” Catholic Theology in Shakespeare’s Plays. Newark: Newark University of Delaware Press, 2008. 124-144.

Hamilton, Donna B. “Henry VIII: The Protestant-Catholic Court in 1613.” Shakespeare and the Politics of Protestant England. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1992. 163-190.

Mayer, Jean-Cristophe. “Revisiting the Reformation: Shakespeare and Fletcher’s King Henry VIII.” Shakespeare’s Hybrid Faith: History, Religion and the Stage. Early Modern Literature in History. Reading: University of Reading, 2006.

What Are Your Children Doing?

John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore contrasts the generic tragedy in more ways than one. Beginning with Giovanni's incestouous relationship with Annabella, the reader gets the sense that we are dealing with a playwright prone to opposing all that is conventional. Naturally, one might ask how this controversial subject of incest would be received at the time, as today it seems to be a taboo subject.

More specifically I was interested in the father, Florio, and his treatment of his scandalous children. Rather than presenting the typical overbearing father, who is concerned with his own financial well-being, Ford presents a father intent on allowing a certain freedom to his daughter. He outlines this very clearly in Act I when he says to Donado, "As for worldly fortune, I am, I thank my stars, blessed with enough. My care is how to match her to her liking. I would not have her marry wealth, but love, and, if she like your nephew, let him have her. Here's all that I can say" (1.3, 8-13).

It seems, from this speech, that this is the very type of father that we would have wished to see in plays such as The Merchant of Venice or The Jew of Malta, one that only wishes for the happiness of his daughter; however, it seems that Ford is criticizing this patriarchal type. This father, whose only wish is the happiness of his children, is, in the end, punished for the freedom he allows his children. In fact, his death is induced by the shock from such an unspeakable and sinful act. What is Ford's intention in constructing this seemingly good-natured father and then tearing him down in the end of the play? What does this say about the control, or lack thereof, fathers exhibit over their children? Should Florio have taken more control over his children as Donado did with Bergetto?

Other things to think about might be the way the Christian Church is conveyed, and its overall involvement with the law. Ford presents some controversial instances, such as the Cardinal pardoning Grimaldi's murder of Bergetto, and the Church seizing all the wealth of the deceased at the end of the play. Why might Ford insert these instances, and what is he inferring about the Church's involvement in the law?

Henry VIII

On Tuesday, we spent a lot of time talking about Katherine: how she seems more similar, in some ways, to Buckingham than to Anne; how she speaks for (?) the people in 1.2 and, in 3.1, insists on being spoken to and seen with her women "as at work"; and, finally, how she refers to herself not only as a "poor woman" but also as a queen, and daughter of no less a person than the King of Spain.

We also talked about the proleptic quality of the play -- how the present, past, and future seem to be collapsed together. More interestingly and provocatively, we asked whether the play invites us to perform the kind of (typically irresponsible) reading we as good historical critics don't like to do -- a reading that sees future events like England's Civil War being referenced in a play that was written well before those events have taken place.

Further thoughts on any of these points? Or anything else you'd like to draw our attention to before class this afternoon?

The End of the Leaky Ladies?

In a quite refreshing change from The Revenger’s Tragedy and many other plays we have read, the principal role of The Duchess of Malfi goes to its namesake female character. The Duchess does not seem to fit into the passive and frivolous stereotype of females, instead possessing a strong will and a sharp intellect. She questions the social obligations and underestimations of her position, asking why “should only I, of all the other princes of the world, be cased up, like a holy relic?” (3.2.140-142). But is she truly free of the “leaky female” curse? How strong is the defiance in her representation?

As the Duchess’s attendant, Cariola serves as her foil. While the noose and the idea of death troubles the poised Duchess “not a whit” (4.2.212), when it is Cariola’s turn to die, a desperate Cariola pleads for a way to escape her fate. The immediate contrast between the composed and dignified exit of the Duchess and the more expected, hysterical outcry of Cariola demonstrates the exceptionalness of the former in not succumbing to weaknesses like the latter did.

While I am inclined to say that the Duchess is an exceptional female character throughout most of the play, a few moments make me hesitate to deem her completely unaffected by uncontrolled or leaky female tendencies. A considerable “leak” occurs when she gets overly excited and reveals her secret marriage to Bosola, who is generally known to work for her brother, Ferdinand. This impulsive move puts her and Antonio in danger, more directly setting off the series of events that will culminate in her demise. Here, she seems to confirm the presumption that females cannot keep secrets, which is later echoed by Julia’s inability to guard the Cardinal’s secret.

Furthermore, (though this might just be a manner of speech) the Duchess frequently refers to things that “princes” should do, as opposed to using an equivalent female-oriented word. For example, she says, “I am making my will, as ‘tis fit princes should” (1.1.377). Combined with the presence of stereotypical females like Cariola and Julia, how does the way that the Duchess regards herself - as well as how we regard her - alter attitudes towards females within this play? Does this characterize her as more of an exception to the rule? Or can she still speak to more general perceptions of her gender? How might her unusual position of power and marital status complicate matters?


Other points to think about:

- The strong equalizing force present in many of the play’s interactions:
In the more obvious example, the romance of the royal Duchess with the lowly servant Antonio cuts across social rank, relying on goodness of heart and actions instead. Additionally, a sense of constancy is layered on top of equality, such as when Ferdinand effectively says at least all children are equal due to “compassionate nature”, regardless of legal standing (4.1.35-38). And while she is imprisoned and emotionally tortured, the Duchess retains her poise and defies the patronizing Bosola with her exclamation, “I am Duchess of Malfi still” (4.2.138).

- The visuality of death:
The play becomes very graphic at points, requiring the staging of a dead man’s hand or of the image of strangled children. The Duchess appears relatively unaffected during many of these scenes. How would this go over with a live audience? What is achieved by the visual articulation of the murders?

Questioning the Character of the Characters

On Tuesday's class, we covered in depth the meaning of the ending of the play and of the title "The Revenger's Tragedy" itself. It appeared very clear to us that this ending, where Vindice spits out a confession, presented a rushed feeling to the audience that seemed to come out of nowhere. We also decided that the title "The Revenger's Tragedy" presented a sentiment of blandness and expectancy when reading the play. The audience can anticipate what is going to happen next and who is going to come out alive in the end.

In accordance with this feeling of predictability when reading this play I felt as though I was unable to really connect with any of the characters. Vindice, the lead, has such an overwhelming desire for revenge that he makes himself difficult to relate to. And, when really thinking about it, he does not seem to dwell so much on his love for his murdered fiance, Gloriana. Although comical, it is pretty disturbing and awkward that he dresses up her skull to get the Duke to be poisoned...Do you think that there are sympathetic characters in this play? If so, why does the author give them the fate that he does?

Along with the strange treatment of Gloriana's remains by her fiance, the treatment of women in this play was very interesting. Throughout all of the play, male characters make snide remarks about the stupidity, carelessness, or frailty of women. Are there any other instances of this that are particularly shocking? Are there any redeeming men in this play that we can think of? Do the women of this play deserve this treatment or act in opposition of it? How does this treatment of women relate to other plays?

At the end of class, Professor Deutermann recommended that we consider who is really pulling the strings in this play. I personally think that during the play, all the characters think that they are in charge of what is going on around them. However, most are really getting scammed and tricked. Vindice, it seems, uses his power of manipulation well and usually has people following his plan. However the ending of the play really shows that none of these characters who were involved in this corruption came out on top. Only Antonio is left standing. What is the author saying about these characters, or more broadly human nature, at the end of the play? Also, where do loyalties lie in the play? Can anything good come from trusting another person?

Players and Bear-baiting and More (oh my)

Now that we know all about sex and marriage in "A Chaste Maid in Cheapside," lets look at some of the historical context behind this play and its place in London in the early 17th century and on the stage. Some interesting things to consider:

Middleton has been called a "realist" by some critics. Most the other city comedies that we've read have been dismissed as too unrealistic/ridiculous. What would you consider to be the realistic elements of this play (justifying these critics) in London 1613(ish)? [if you think that such critics are talking nonsense, why do you think "Chaste Maid.." is inaccurate]

• How about in a modern portrayal?
• Thinking on that, how might compare instances in this play to similar ones in the modern reality (ex. menage-a-trois, cultural capitol acquisition, jabs at education) In what cases are these considered "socially acceptable?"

Something interesting to notice, the resolution of this play disbands the wittoling/cuckoldry of the Allwits & Whorehound, but has planted the seeds for another to grow between Touchwood Senior & the Kixes. Might Middleton be suggesting something about society in London as a breeding ground for infidelity and blind-eyes? Do we see this new triangle following the path of the one that has just collapsed (to the benefit of the Allwits and demise of Whorehound)?

I will save most of the staging concepts and theatrical elements for class discussion, but (without looking it up) consider what sort of theatre might be ideal for this performance and why. After pondering that, for class, have a look at the image (given in class on Tuesday) of The Swan Theatre. Think about what a stage house like this means for the players and the audience (where are they located in relation to each other). Consider moments in the play where Middleton inserts an "aside" - comments directed at the audience which the other characters cannot hear. Note particularly moments that might be particularly comical when an aside is somehow heard by another character (ex. see 1.1.104-107 [Sir Walter. Here you must pass for... you mumble, Davy.], 1.1.128-132[Yellowhammer. Bless us all!... cannot see the top of 'em.] - my lines are slightly different from the anthology, apologies) Think about what this does in the performance: a character delivers a side comment to the audience and his peer alerts him to having perceived such a comment. How might asides be taken differently depending on the sort of stage house used?