“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?

Familiar Patterns and New Insights in A Chaste Maid in Cheapside

A Chaste Maid in Cheapside follows many of the patterns that we have come to recognize as characteristic of renaissance comedy. Another city comedy, the play shows us more of the hustle-bustle of London. The play boasts a shopkeeping father, in this case a goldsmith, who wants his daughter to marry a well-to-do gentlemen. She of course, is in love with the “less worthy” Touchwood. Characters like “Whorehound” and “Touchwood” have names that are as literally descriptive as those that we have seen in the Alchemist and the play comments on religion with the appearance of puritans, and presents corrupt mass promoters that again match the Alchemist’ Puritan “collectors”. All ends of the play seem to tie up neatly as the characters launch into celebration at the end of the play.
The play, however, provides new insight on the institution of marriage that has been only slightly touched upon in the previous comedies that we have read. Chaste Maid uses three marriages and two betrothals to show us the dynamic and sometimes corrupt nature of marriage. Perhaps the most fascinating of the relationships is the twisted triangle between Allwit, his wife, and Whorehound. Sir Walter Whorehound has taken Mrs. Allwit as his mistress, and to his delight, this leaves the lazy Allwit, a “cuckold” with no responsibility. He says of Whorehound that, “He’s maintained my house this ten years; not only keeps my wife but’ a keeps me and all my family. I am at his table; he gets me all my children; puts me to nothing”( 1.2.16 ) In speaking to Yellowhammer, Allwit relates his marriage to a sort of business deal a way to make a “ living as other trades thrive, butchers by selling flesh, poulters by venting conies” (4.1.236). In this instance, marriage is manipulated to turn a profit. This corruption seems bizarrely acceptable. When Yellowhammer is told that his daughter’s betrothed is having an affair with a married woman, he admits to that he has “kept a whore (himself), and had a bastard” (4.1.268), so as if this practice is “normal”, and almost dear to him, he will allow the marriage to proceed.
We then have two opposing couples, one that is unable to reproduce and one that is “too” fertile and must separate. The Touchwoods must remove themselves from the passion that has brought them so many children. Their plight has brought Touchwood Sr. to understand that, the “feast of marriage is not lust, but love and care of the estate”. The Kix’s seem to think passion must be more necessary than love. The two who cannot get pregnant, bicker and quarl about their situation. Their fighting leads them to compare marriage to death in saying that, “marriage and hanging go by destiny”(3.3.59). Ironically, infidelity brings about an answer to the couples’ problems, as Touchwood impregnates Lady Kix. In light of these relationships, the Welsh (who is betrothed to Tim) is not very believable in her assertion that “Sir if your logic cannot prove me honest, there’s a thing called marriage, and that makes me honest” (5.4.115). For the play has depicted the institution of marriage as anything but honest. These dynamic relationships may help us to further understand the theater’s portrayal of social and familial roles at the time.

Aside from the play’s commentary on relationships, the play provides us with a bunch of juicy new “tid-bits” for discussion. We can think about some of these questions for Tuesdays class:

• This is the first time we have seen “gossips.” What role do these peculiar characters take on in the play? Do they provide actual insight into the corruption that they try to sniff out?
• We hear a lot about the hoity-toity nature of Tim as a “Cambridge man”. He is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and tries to impress people by babbling in Latin. At one point he says obnoxiously, “Come I from Cambridge, and offer me six plums?” Is the play mocking higher education or just those who consider themselves above the less educated?
• This play ends, as do Shoemaker and Knight of the Burning Pestle, in celebration. Yellowhammer exclaims, “So fortune seldom deals two marriages with one hand, and both lucky. The best is, one feast will serve them both” 5.4.125. What can we say about the way in which these complicated plays are summed up by jovial gatherings? Is this a necessary aspect of a comedy, or is it a cop-out, a way of maintaining a “comedic stance”, sending audiences dancing out of the theater after being exposed to some serious issues.

The Citizen and his Wife are some very odd ducks...

Why would Beaumont choose to include them in such a strong and mocking fashion? There are times when the two of them are attempting to crack witty jokes between every line of 'The London Merchant,' a city comedy doomed to fail from the beginning of their involvement in its plot. We've discussed them in some detail in Tuesday's class, and with Nate Leonard, graduate student in Renaissance drama at UMass, attending Thursday's class to go over staging and audience culture in Blackfriars during this time, we'll be talking about them a lot more. (Sorry to those of you who find them obnoxious!)

These characters are guiding forces that manipulate the audience into following what Beaumont intended to be felt through the play. Nell has difficulty separating the players from their characters. This is shown through her obvious favoritism to Humphrey: "didst thou ever see a prettier child?" This and other mistakes she and her husband make gives us the idea that they are first-time theater-goers and blind to the culture of such plays. We had mentioned that this lent a feeling that audiences would come away more cultured and educated after attending such plays, but mainly it is meant to give the audience an idea of what they should NOT be thinking about the play. The Citizen and his Wife have views entirely opposite to what should be taken: Jasper should be favored over Humphrey, Mistress Merrythought and Michael should be thought of as irritatingly sober fools rather than protaganists, and the boy players should be given a bit more credit for making this entire thing up as they go along. By creating obnoxiously ignorant characters unafraid to speak their mind, Beaumont has effectively used a kind of reverse psychology to control how the audience thinks of characters and plots within this play.

A few questions to keep in mind:

• Who is the target audience of this play? Citizens such as this grocer, or higher class citizens? How would this affect the reaction of the audience?
  
• How would the Blackfriars theatre change the audiences' experience of this play? The Blackfriars is much like the Cockpit or the Phoenix in it's layout (refer to your handout of Inigo Jones' diagram of the theatre.) An indoor 'private' theatre lit entirely by candlelight may provide an entirely different feel than an outdoor naturally lit one. Could the effects of the lighting and the sense of privacy change the audience's experience?
  
• Most importantly, how is the city comedy of 'The London Merchant' similar to Dekker's 'The Shoemaker's Holiday?' What perspective does each take on city life, class, and mercantilism? How do the two plays differ and how are they alike?

I look forward to hearing your answers to these questions in class, and feel free to ask any staging or dramatic questions of Nate as they come to you!

How the Puritans are portrayed in "The Alchemist" in Relation to Their Place in Society at the Time

As we discussed on Tuesday, there is definite tension between the Puritan characters in "The Alchemist" and Face and Subtle. Subtle and Face treat Ananias inhumanely and unfairly, and Face is not punished for his fraud of cruelty at the end of the play. Moreover, Jonson clearly shows his dislike towards Puritans in many instances in the play. For example, Puritans are portrayed as only "deal[ing] justly" (2.5.58)  with other Puritans, highlighting an irony in the Puritan faith, as they claim to be "faithful Brother[s]" (2.5.7), but in "The Alchemist," they are unfaithful by participating in Alchemy.

In Jean Howard's "The Stage and Social Struggle in Early Modern England," he discusses the tension between Puritans and the theater. He states that, "Written in 1577 by a nonconformist preacher with Puritan learnings, this tract constructs the theater as one of an ensemble of institutions and practices destroying the religious and social fabric of England. Northbrooke [the preacher], stages the tract as a dialogue between an old man coming from church and a young man who has missed services because of his dedication to the life of idle pastimes, the worst of which are playing, dicing, and facing... For a time, at least, the church and the theater were posited as symbolically opposed places."

This passage made me think of our discussion on Tuesday about "The Alchemist" representing England itself, and how the tension between theater, and Jonson himself, and the puritans, is clearly portrayed, just as it existed in England at the time. 

Week Eight: What's in a Name?

All of the characters in Ben Jonson’s The Alchemist have what might be considered odd names. Each individual listed in the play’s dramatis personae seems to be named after the personality trait that best characterizes him or her and bears some correlation to his or her particular role in the play.

As an example, let us examine Sir Epicure Mammon. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “epicure” refers to an individual “who gives himself up to sensual pleasure” or “is choice and dainty in eating and drinking” (OED), and “mammon” means an “inordinate desire for wealth or possessions, personified as a devil or demonic agent” (OED). In the play, the character Mammon comes across as a very covetous fellow whose purpose in visiting Subtle (whom he believes to be an alchemist) is to transform what he owns into something far more valuable in an effort to satiate his cupidity: “This night I’ll change/ All that is metal in my house to gold” (Alchemist II.i.29-30).

Jonson may have used this unique technique as a vehicle for depersonalization. In a sense, the names of the characters in the play do not refer to specific individuals, but rather to general characterizations of the various types of people one might encounter in the London of Jonson’s day. The play, therefore, is not as much an analysis of one particular group of knaves and their deceitfulness as it is a commentary on the behaviors of the diverse occupants of Renaissance London. Essentially, Jonson’s play serves to scrutinize a society. Do you agree or disagree with this assertion? If you agree with it, how might this sense of depersonalization differentiate the London of Jonson from that of Thomas Dekker in The Shoemaker’s Holiday?

Our wills and fates

In his lectures on Shakespearean Tragedy, A.C. Bradley declares that Hamlet is "a man who at any other time and in any other circumstances than those presented would have been perfectly equal to his task" (93-94). The task referred to is, of course, the one the ghost of his father has assigned to him--to kill his uncle Claudius. For some reason, Hamlet is unable to complete his task until the last possible moment. Bradley notes that Hamlet assumes he can obey the ghost at any time, and does not need reassurance; he could easily raise the people against the King, because Laertes has absolutely no trouble doing so; the play-within-the-play is to convince himself of Claudius's guilt; and finally, Hamlet has no specific plot or plan to actually kill Claudius (84). Considering these facts about Hamlet's situation, what do you think is the cause of Hamlet's delay?

In addition to his delay, Hamlet's will is equally important to the action of his play; for as much as Hamlet does not do, we are that much more intrigued by what he does do. He puts on an antic disposition for Ophelia's sake (II. i.); he requests first a speech about the murder of Priam, and then "The Murder of Gonzago" to be played before his uncle (II. ii.); he kills Polonius (III. iv); he manages to exact the execution of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern once they arrive in England (V. ii.). And yet, in the last scene, as if he has decided to resign from pulling the strings of the puppets who inhabit his play, we hear him say things like "Let be" (V. ii. 223), and "Let it be" (V. ii. 359). But since the last thing he does is kill Claudius, what can we infer about the state of Hamlet's will in the end? What is Shakespeare saying by contrasting Hamlet's will with his delay? What does this do to our impression of Hamlet as a character? How do other characters highlight Shakespeare's theme of will versus fate?

The World of London

The Shoemaker’s Holiday takes place in a very bustling and cosmopolitan London. As Professor Deutermann stated, the population of the City roughly quadrupled during the era that the play was written. The surge in population was no doubt a major boon for culture and commerce within the city yet I feel it also minimized the importance of the individual. Guilds, partnerships, and the like became the new smallest functional unit of society at least within the bourgeois classes. Collaboration replaced the individualism of life in small towns and villages. The individual became insignificant in the midst of multitudes of people, ceased to be pragmatically productive as a result, and quickly faded into irrelevance, if not saved by others. In short, Jane is a victim of the alienation that comes with the urban landscape. Scene 4 in Act the Third tells how Jane has, after leaving the shoemaking shop, vanished into London: “Marge: And So, indeed, we heard not of her, but I hear/she lives in London; but let that pass. “


Similarly, the urban landscape promoted a sense of worldly alienation. Events outside of the city are largely disregarded as happenings on the fringe. In a world inexperienced for the most part with metropolises and lacking any sort of communicative technology, I can only think it natural that the city would become one’s world. The city brought together various people, diplomats, and merchants from all over and was in a sense a microcosmic world that did indeed take precedence over the world at large for city dwellers such as Simon Eyre, his band, and even the King who seemingly disregards the war until the final two lines of the play. In this respect, one would think Ralph is very much the outsider, having survived the war in France though returning home crippled. However, Ralph, despite his wounds, is very quickly reabsorbed into typical bourgeois life by the City and its occurrences, further, the characters closest to Ralph make only slight inquiries about Ralph’s wounds, almost developing a stigma towards them due to their origins “outside of their world”, so to speak.


The City and its society is all important in the play, and though comedic at times, it illustrates the roll of cities in the time to come and their attractiveness - living in a city provided the means to rise in society, just like Eyre's ascension (however fanciful it was), and loosened the rigidity of a socially stratified society. Ironically, London provided the means to get ahead while simultaneously providing the means to get left behind by both society and the world at large.

Week Five: Ah, Mephistopheles!

At a glance, Mephistopheles appears to be a typical demon overflowing with evil intentions. We are well aware he will do almost anything to increase Lucifer’s dominion even if it means granting Faustus incredible power. “Oh, what will not I do to obtain his soul? (2.1.71)” Mephistopheles constantly reminds Faustus of his bond and hinders his repentance to ensure his voyage to hell. However, there is a moment in the play where Mephistopheles seems to display grief for being devil and reluctance in taking Faustus‘s soul.

“Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think‘st thou that I, who saw the face of God
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?
O Faustus, leave these frivolous demands,
Which strike a terror to my fainting soul! (1.3.78-84)”

The last two lines are the most interesting. Here Mephistopheles is telling Faustus to take back his request. This request may be his inquisition concerning hell, which serves as a reminder of everything Mephistopheles lost when he was banished from heaven. Clearly, he is an unhappy servant of hell. This ties into the Mephistopheles’s explanation that Lucifer wants souls because “misery loves company.” On the other hand, the request may in fact be Faustus’s demand to form a pact with Lucifer. If this is so, Meph is trying to stop Faustus from making a grave mistake. Perhaps he does not want Faustus to suffer the same miserable fate of eternal damnation.

Week Four: The Merchant of Venice

This week, we'll be continuing with The Merchant of Venice. Franklin, Leon, and Ben will kick off our discussion by asking us to think about similarities and differences between Barabas and Shylock. Since this is such an enormous topic, it might be useful to begin our conversation online. Any thoughts? Or any thoughts on the other topics we tackled on Thursday (the rings, male friendships, conversion)?

Week Three: Infinite riches in a little room

To get us in the mood for Tuesday's performance, here is a link to a NYTimes review of a recent production of Marlowe's play, put on by Theater for a New Audience. The article includes a great shot of the play's opening scene, with F. Murray Abraham as Barabas counting his "infinite riches in a little room" (1.1.37).

Some things to think about: Rishabh pointed out at the start of class on Thursday that more than one religious group comes in for pretty sharp criticism in this play. We talked a lot about how Christians and Jews are represented in The Jew of Malta and in early modern English culture more generally. We spent less time talking about the play's Muslims. How might the presence of the Turks complicate our understanding of the Jews and Catholics in Malta, and how might their presence have affected early modern audiences' responses to Marlowe's play?