A tolerable but undistinguished Caroline tragicomedy in which the proper people marry the proper people and everyone lives happily ever after. The her A tolerable but undistinguished Caroline tragicomedy in which the proper people marry the proper people and everyone lives happily ever after. The hero Hortensio is an unusually virtuous character--to the point of being slightly ridiculous--but he is also very likable, and it is a pleasure to see him triumph at the end.
This is Massinger's last extant drama, and it is not nearly as good as some of his earlier works. Perhaps he was tired of writing his plays. I know I am tired of reading them.
No more Renaissance drama for me--at least for awhile. (I think I'll concentrate on 20th poetry instead.)...more
This is a mediocre Jacobean play, little read and principally remembered for the contribution of Nathan Field--an actor-dramatist with a very small ou This is a mediocre Jacobean play, little read and principally remembered for the contribution of Nathan Field--an actor-dramatist with a very small output--whom experts tell us composed about two-fifths of the play. (The experts say Massinger wrote the tragic scenes, Field the humorous and courtly ones.)
Perhaps I'm just getting burned-out on Jacobean and Caroline plays--after all, I've been reading one every month for about two years now--but I found little in this play to recommend it. The "honor-killing" theme--in which Rochmont, in a mock-trial, condemns his daughter Beaumelle to death for adultery, and then her husband Charalois "executes" her--is something I find particularly repellent. (At any rate, John Webster, in Appius and Virginia, treated a somewhat similar situation more effectively. But his characters were ancient Romans, not 15th century Burgundians, and I think that helped.)
My advice: if you're in the mood for an old play about jealousy and murder, do not read this. Read Shakespeare's Othello instead. If you've already read Othello, then read it again....more
There are many big egos in this play, and it is in the portrayal of egoists—their flaws and rhetorical flights—that the dramatist Massinger excels. Th There are many big egos in this play, and it is in the portrayal of egoists—their flaws and rhetorical flights—that the dramatist Massinger excels. The eponymous hero of this tragicomedy is the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius, an inexperienced young man under the guardianship of his sister Pulcheria, who takes upon himself the reins of empire, choosing as empress the newly-converted “stranger” Athenais. But each of these three characters, in their pride and amour propre, rival each other for the claim to be the de facto “Emperor of the East.”
This is a play about jealousy, and it is filled with echoes of Othello (only here an apple is substituted for the handkerchief). It involves, however, an interesting reversal: Othello is insecure principally because of his advanced age and racial and cultural isolation, whereas Theodosius is insecure because of his youth and the newly acquire burden of imperial isolation.
This is an entertaining play, probably best known for its plot device of a layman's abuse of the Catholic confessional to gain evidence of a supposed crime. Some see this—along with his sympathetic treatment of a Jesuit in The Renegado—as proof of Massinger's Catholicism. I'm not sure I agree with the theory, but the confessional definitely helps bring all of our characters—and their play--to a satisfying and happy conclusion....more
The Bondman, one of Massinger's richer works, was also one of his most respected. Popular both in the early Stuart era and during the Restoration, it The Bondman, one of Massinger's richer works, was also one of his most respected. Popular both in the early Stuart era and during the Restoration, it was revived, as late as the reign of George III, in 1769.
As usual, Massinger shows us noble people of strong will, striving through both good and evil means to achieve their objectives, but here he puts it in an unusual context: the Syracusan army is commanded by an outsider, the Corinthian Timoleon, because the Syracusans realize they are too corrupted by wealth and leisure effectively to lead themselves. They have one urgent problem they know about, an imminent sea attack from Carthage, and one they will soon discover, a slave revolt precipitated by their corrupt, lazy society.
The play's principal interest is in the way Massinger treats of masters and slaves. His sympathies—and criticisms--are for both. When he is questioned early in the play about his suitability for command, Timoleon observes that "he that would govern others, first should be the master of himself," and Massinger endeavors to show us that when men refuse to master themselves, they are mastered by their own vices, like luxury and sloth, choosing rather “to be made bondmen, than to part with that to which already you are slaves.” Indeed, men may persist in folly to the point where they will, “to perfect their entertainment, offer up your sons, and able men, for slaves.”
The play suffers from a few Jacobean conventions (an absurd vow, two characters in disguise), but its moral seriousness and exciting plot keep the reader's interest. Give it a try....more
This entertaining late Jacobean play holds a special interest for the post 9/11 reader, broadly because of the clash between Islamic civilization and This entertaining late Jacobean play holds a special interest for the post 9/11 reader, broadly because of the clash between Islamic civilization and Christian culture, but more precisely because of the play's exploration of the theme of the renegade: what does it mean to renounce your religion and--perhaps of greater concern for Massinger--to deny your very self, with all the representations and assumptions that come with that denial?
In addition to the secondary character "the Renegado" (Grimaldi, a pirate converted to Islam), the play features as hero and heroine the Venetian gentleman Vitelli and Donusa, the Turkish princess who loves him. At some time in the play, each of these three characters is called upon to convert, and since each of them is a proud, imperious Massinger egoist, the question of what they will do becomes even more interesting.
Also noteworthy about The Renegado is its sympathetic portrayal of the Jesuit Francisco. Given the English Renaissance stereotype of the false "equivocating" Jesuit, this positive portrait by Massinger is seen by some critics as evidence that he was a professing Catholic, or at the least a Protestant not unsympathetic to Rome.(Or--perhaps--could Massinger himself have been a "renegado"?)...more
As hard-boiled writer Jonathan Latimer would say, this is "a wild one," containing everything but "an abortion and a tornado." What this Jacobean play As hard-boiled writer Jonathan Latimer would say, this is "a wild one," containing everything but "an abortion and a tornado." What this Jacobean play does contain is mistress-stealing, uxoricide, pirates, a father-son death-duel (the "unnatural combat"), post-mortem mutilation, incestuous desires (plus stratagems to satisfy them), rape (not incestuous), vengeful ghosts, and (at last!) divine retribution in the form of (I'm not kidding) a lightning bolt.
The main character Malefort Senior (rumored to be a portrait of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham), the man responsible for most of the above-listed crimes against humanity, is a magnificently sociopathic version of the egoistic protagonist, a Massinger specialty. The vile Malefort thrives for as long as he does because he lives in a milieu--the city of Marseilles--which is almost as corrupt as he is.
I found this play exciting and entertaining, although--as you may guess from the litany of horrors above--a reader with more good taste than I possess might find it just a little bit over the top.
Then again, T.S. Eliot sort of liked it. So there!...more
Camiola, the heroine of this early tragicomedy, is a typical Massinger protagonist: intelligent and haughty, she willfully follows her principles--and Camiola, the heroine of this early tragicomedy, is a typical Massinger protagonist: intelligent and haughty, she willfully follows her principles--and her whims--as a proclamation and presentation of the self. The occasions may vary (a flawed suitor's repudiation, a lover's rescue, the lure of a religious vocation), but whether the incidental motive be admirable or arbitrary, the assertion of the self remains her central motivation. She is a Massinger heroine; she does not defy her fate, she becomes it.
The plot has enough twists and turns, political, military and domestic, to engage the audience without wearying it, the comic characters—particularly Lord Sylli—are genuinely amusing, and Camiola's love (the King's natural brother Bertoldo) is worthy of his mistress, being almost as haughty and willful as “the Maid of Honor” herself. I won't give the ending away, but the play concludes with a marvelous bit of theatricality which leaves Camiola completely in control of everyone's undivided attention. What more, after all, could a Massinger heroine desire?...more
A New Way to Pay Old Debts was a disappointment to me. Traditional criticism has dubbed it Massinger's best play. In fact, it is one of only six non-S A New Way to Pay Old Debts was a disappointment to me. Traditional criticism has dubbed it Massinger's best play. In fact, it is one of only six non-Shakespearean dramas included in the "Harvard Classics," AKA "Dr. Eliot's Five-foot Shelf" (you will find it in Vol. 47, Part 5). It seems to me I read it forty odd years ago, and liked it then more then than I like it now, but perhaps it is only my vivid memory of George Clint's painting--the one which shows Edmund Keane raging during the mad scene--that makes me think I actually read the play.
This is of course is the real reason why "Debts" is remembered: Kean in 1816, chewing up the scenery as mad Sir Giles, his intensity making actress Mary Glover faint and scaring Lord Byron half to death. (John Philip Kemble is the actor-manager who successfully returned Sir Giles Overreach to the stage, but the memory of his performance was soon reduced to ashes, blasted by the lightning of Keane.) The villain Overreach eventually became a fixture of the 19th century stage in both England and America--America's great actor Edwin Booth (presidential assassin John Wilkes Booth's brother) also excelled in the part--and A New Way to Pay Old Debts began to be considered something very close to a classic.
Unfortunately, without Kean or Booth, the lightning does not strike. The mad scene is good but not great, since it offers no real insight into madness, but relies on rhetoric and extreme language instead. More important, the four acts that lead to Giles' breakdown leave much to be desired and little to be remembered. Most of the characters except for Overreach are insignificant and disagreeable creatures: the well-born are wastrels who feel entitled, and their servants are so one-dimensional that their names are designed to reveal their entire characters (Order, Amble, Watchall, Willdo, etc.).
Still, Sir Giles himself lingers in the memory. He is a middle-class money-man from "the City" who has acquired a vast fortune by exploiting the weaknesses of the landed gentry, and his consuming ambition is to become one of them by marrying his daughter into a "good family." He is an atheist, believing in nothing or nobody but the power which wealth can bring; in fact, he makes it clear that he is willing to sacrifice his daughter's honor to achieve such power, and--in a particularly repellent scene--he solicits her cooperation in the project. In addition, his atheism may very well be the reason why Overreach becomes unhinged: once his schemes collapse, he has no inner resources, no overarching values, to rely on for comfort or strength.
It's not a bad play, really (although I think "The Roman Actor" and "The Maid of Honor" are better). If you like old drama, give it a try. But don't make the mistake I did, and expect to see revived the thunderbolts of Keane....more
This Massinger play presents the portrait of a man who may be destroyed by jealousy, but who, unlike Othello, is not confused by cultural insecurity o This Massinger play presents the portrait of a man who may be destroyed by jealousy, but who, unlike Othello, is not confused by cultural insecurity or misled by gullibility. Instead, he destroys himself through his obsessive attachment to his wife, not as a person, but merely as a lovely object belonging exclusively to him. Embarking upon a dangerous political mission, he leaves orders to have her killed in the event that she survives him; she finds out about his orders, and her attitude toward him--once dutifully faithful--begins to change, setting in motion a series of events that bring about the catastrophe.
Some of my favorite moments in Renaissance drama are those that involve dead women, dress-up, and death. (In fact, my two favorite scenes of all the plays I have read--excluding Shakespeare--are Vindice's speech to the skull of his dead mistress and the subsequent use of this same skull--now poisoned--as a murder weapon against the Duke.) "The Duke of Milan" presents the reader with a powerful scene of this type, in which a calculating courtier disquised as a physician rouges the cheeks of a dead beauty in order to convince her madman husband that she is still alive. The moral is both heavy-handed and effective, as only a Renaissance drama can be.
Unfortunately, the end of the play is rushed, and the final catastrophe seems no more than an afterthought. With an effective conclusion, this might have been a fine play....more
Caroline era dramatist Philip Massinger was not very successful in his own day—witness his dedicatory epistles, which continually plead poverty—but he Caroline era dramatist Philip Massinger was not very successful in his own day—witness his dedicatory epistles, which continually plead poverty—but he was better known to posterity than many of his more popular contemporaries, principally because he possessed qualities prized by the 18th and 19th centuries: comparatively chaste plots, inoffensive diction, and verse that--although lacking in subtlety--resounds with Ciceronian majesty and declamatory power.
It is declamatory power that has preserved the name of The Roman Actor in popular memory. Although infrequently performed in its entirety, it is the source of a long impressive first act speech in which Paris, the "Roman Actor," tells members of his audience that, if they take offense at how the vices of characters on stage mirror their own, they should not blame the players,for “IT IS NOT OUR FAULT.” This monologue, first culled from the play by actor-manager John Philip Kemble, was used extensively during the 19th century: by professional actors as a curtain-raiser, by amateur performers as a parlor piece, and by high school boys as a declamatory exercise. It helped keep the name of Massinger alive.
The play itself is a well plotted piece of theater which uses the familiar device of a play-within-a-play with effective irony. It portrays, with insight and without cliche, the character of its protagonist the Roman Emperor Domitian--a merry sociopath who reminds me of Camus' Caligula--and the events which bring about his well deserved assassination. I enjoyed reading this play, and would like to see it performed....more
The Court Secret is the last play Shirley wrote for the Caroline stage, and the Puritans closed the theaters before he had a chance to see it performe The Court Secret is the last play Shirley wrote for the Caroline stage, and the Puritans closed the theaters before he had a chance to see it performed. It is a fitting end, for it crystallizes the tendencies and enriches the themes that are characteristic of his work.
The profusion of assumed identities, switched-at-birth identities, and present-day stratagems that complicate and confound plots hatched a full generation before are enough to make the reader's head swim. Indeed, incidents crowd so swiftly and the plot burgeons so intricately, that he may find himself obliged to revisit a scene or two just to fathom what is going on. He may also, however, take consolation in the fact that the character themselves experience the same difficulty.
This confusion is revealed early in the second act, when two Lords--the sort of know-it-all courtiers Shakespeare employs to deliver exposition--try to figure out what is happening, in real stage time. The King of Spain, believing Piracquo is a traitor, calls his guard, who take Piracquo away. Immediately afterward, however, the visiting Prince of Portugal receives a letter which he shares with the King's son Carlo, who soon goes off stage in the same direction. At this point, the following dialogue ensues:
2nd Lord: What do you think of my Lord Piracquo?
(Enter Carlo with Piracquo, guarded)
1st Lord: I think he's gone to prison, yet I think He's here again, if that be he, for we are Not sure of anything at court.
In "The Court Secret," Shirley complicates his plot devices in much the same way that Henry James, in his later period, complicates his sentences with qualifying phrases, scattering his adjectives and prepositional clauses far from his pronouns and nouns. James uses such complications to explore the nuances of consciousness; Shirley, on the other hand, is concerned with the integrity and health of his society. A master of masks, plot, sub-plot, counter-plot, and stratagem, Shirley uses all of his cleverness to devise a coherent--albeit frustratingly intricate--whole in which plot and sub-plot fuse, stratagem and honest emotion are barely distinguishable, and masks are so pervasive that social identity itself--at least in the context of the anxiety-ridden, disintegrating Caroline court--is called into question....more
This is probably the first play of Shirley's performed on the London Stage after his return from the Werburgh Theatre in Dublin. As the title indicate This is probably the first play of Shirley's performed on the London Stage after his return from the Werburgh Theatre in Dublin. As the title indicates, it is full of false identities: a courtier convinces his concubine to pretend to be the princess of Mantua who is pretending to be a nun, while the princess herself leaves her convent for Ferrara, pretending to be merely a lady of Mantua, the better to observe the pretended princess. Got that? (I think her brother Honorio pretends to be somebody else too, but I have now forgotten who.)
In addition to impostures, this play is also filled--as are most of Shirley's plays--with stratagems and reversals of fortune. In this case, however--as in his other mature works--Shirley suggests that these masks, plots and fateful revolutions reflect an instability and emptiness at the core of society, not only in the disintegrating Stuart court, but in civilization itself. As a disillusioned character puts in the the second half of this play:
Virtue and honour, I allow you names: You may give matter for dispute, and noise, But you have lost your essence, and that truth We fondly have believed in human souls Is ceased to be. We are grown fantastic bodies, Figures, and empty titles, and make haste To our first nothing. He that will be honest, Must quite throw off his cold decrepit nature, And have a new creation.
Shirley now seems to realize that the baroque profusion of complicated ruses and tricks of plot at which he always excelled point to an existential lack, a spiritual vacuum, at the heart of civilized man. We all "make haste to our first nothing," and are desperately in need of some "new creation."...more
The Doubtful Heir (1638) is probably Shirley's penultimate creation for Dublin's Werburgh Theatre, and--like all mature Shirley plays--it features bla The Doubtful Heir (1638) is probably Shirley's penultimate creation for Dublin's Werburgh Theatre, and--like all mature Shirley plays--it features blank verse of poetic distinction and an elaborate, well articulated plot. But has Shirley in this instance permitted his story to become cripplingly complex?
There are three separate revolutions or surprises in the narrative which shift the kingdom of Murcia's balance of power, and all occur in the last act. This tumultuous political atmosphere of The Doubtful Heir may well reflect the anxieties of the time--the effects of the previous year's Edinburgh riots were intensifying, and would soon lead to Civil War--but, in practice, do these swift and sudden reversals serve a greater artistic purpose, or do they merely make the action of the play's last act seem overly busy, its conclusion slightly absurd?
At first reading, I was disappointed by the conclusion, but, upon reflection, I believe that this play--like the other works Shirley composed during the twilight days of the first Charles Stuart--uses a proliferation of masks, stratagems, and reversals to suggest a hollowness beneath society's conventions. The call for reform and redemption isn't as evident here as it is in The Cardinal or The Court Secret, but I believe that the formal elegance of its ending--similar to those of Shakespeare's problem plays--is meant to suffice but not to satisfy, giving the theatre-goer leave to imagine the possibilities of a better world.
Whatever you think of the ending, there's a lot of good iambic pentameter here to be savored. If you are a newcomer, to James Shirley, however, begin with The Cardinal, The Politician, or the Lady of Pleasure. Do not begin here....more
The Politician is one of Shirley's best dramas, and Shakespeare's influence is never far away. Its problematic fathers and Scandinavian atmosphere evo The Politician is one of Shirley's best dramas, and Shakespeare's influence is never far away. Its problematic fathers and Scandinavian atmosphere evoke Hamlet, its assassination plot and the murderess Marpisa suggest Macbeth, and the drinking scene makes one think of Othello. True, The Politician lacks the moral seriousness of any of these plays, but it partially makes up for this with its intricate, well-planned plot and its vivid scenes with fine theatrical effects.
The most memorable scene for me was when Gotharus, who has already been poisoned but does not know it, seeks refuge from a mob which intends to kill him by hiding in an empty coffin, and then is later discovered dead in his hiding place. The final revelation of the character of Marpisa is memorable too....more
A mature play by James Shirley, last of the Renaissance dramatists, who--as usual--handles this complicated plot and its many reversals with clarity a A mature play by James Shirley, last of the Renaissance dramatists, who--as usual--handles this complicated plot and its many reversals with clarity and grace.
Three things stood out for me while reading this play. First, I was interested in how much it looks forward to the heroic plays of the Restoration. This is most obvious in its lofty treatment of the themes of duty versus love, of honor versus filial affection, but it is also revealed in Shirley's attempt to move the pleasing complications of Renaissance drama closer to the Classical unities of time and place.
Second, I was moved by Shirley's treatment of the fate of the successful warrior, how his victories can be taken for granted, even as he is feared and plotted against by those those who see these triumphs as a source of popularity and potential power.
Third, I was entertained by the subplot, in which the courtier Pazzorello, terrified of going to war, is fooled into thinking that a witches' spell will render him impervious to harm. But of course Pazzorello is still vulnerable, just as the unfortunate young Admiral is vulnerable to the political machinations that plague him in the wake of his brave victory....more
I admit that I am partial to this play. It not only unites two of my enthusiasms--English Renaissance drama and Celtic lore--but it also connects both I admit that I am partial to this play. It not only unites two of my enthusiasms--English Renaissance drama and Celtic lore--but it also connects both of them to an obscure episode in Irish history, and--you guessed it--the collection of obscure episodes in Irish history is one of my enthusiasms too. What pleases me even more is that, before encountering this particular play, I was completely ignorant of the Werburgh Theater, and I am delighted to finally learn about its existence and its history.
In 1632, Thomas Wentworth, first earl of Strafford, having been appointed Lord Deputy of Ireland, wished to transform Dublin into a cosmopolitan city, a fitting seat for a resident lord deputy who had hopes of establishing a regional court. He wished not only to increase his own good opinion but also to civilize the Old Irish Catholic noblity (who according to English sources, needed some serious civilizing). Strafford was fond of the theatre, and consequently enlisted the help of John Ogilby--best known for his later work as the Father of the English Road Atlas--who was his children's tutor at the time. Olgiby soon took the title of Master of Revels, and began to oversee the building of a theater on Werburgh street near Dublin Castle, the first playhouse in Ireland actually constructed as a playhouse (as opposed to a temporarily converted inn yard or bear pit).
Strafford also enlisted the help of James Shirley, one of London's best known dramatists, to fill the Werburgh with professional actors and acquire plays in which they could perform. Luckily--at least for Irish theatre--an outbreak of plague in London made it relatively easy to put an acting company together, and by 1638 the Werburgh--the only permanent English Renaissance theater ever to operate outside of the London metropolitan area---was in business. The company performed works by Fletcher, Jonson, and Middleton, but the largest share of the plays were Shirley's own. In fact Shirley wrote four or five dramas specifically for debut at the Werburgh. Of these, "St. Patrick for Ireland" was the last, and the only one with a specifically Irish theme.
"St. Patrick for Ireland"--which should perhaps be called "St. Patrick for Ireland, Part 1"--is a strange amalgam of old-fashioned styles--part medieval miracle play, part loosely unified chronicle play like "Tamerlane" or "King John"--held together by sophisticated verse and a complex interplay of plot and subplot. Occasionally it seems to approach a pagan parody of the incarnation, but this near parody only reveals the Druids for the frauds they are. Soon the snakes are expelled, and the saint utters a prophetic paean to all the cultural gifts that Christian Ireland will one day bring to the world. (Praise for the Irish monks of course, but also for Lord Stafford and his theater.) The play concludes with an uneasy peace between Christian and Druid, preparing its audience for conflict in a promised Part II.
But--alas!--the Irish Rebellion of 1641 soon ended this short cultural renaissance. The Werburgh theater was turned into a cow shed, then torn down. Part II was never written....more
James Shirley's The Lady of Pleasure (1635) is a comic achievement equal to Shirley's tragic achievement in The Cardinal. The play looks forward to ma James Shirley's The Lady of Pleasure (1635) is a comic achievement equal to Shirley's tragic achievement in The Cardinal. The play looks forward to many of the pleasures of the Restoration comedy (sexual intrigue, a close scrutiny of manners, an abundance of fops and fools) while preserving the moral seriousness and depth of Renaissance drama.
I must admit I have never been a lover of Restoration drama. Its poetry is either non-existent (comedy) or inferior (tragedy)--oh those ponderous heroic couplets!--and, worse, its moral range is far too narrow. God—if he does indeed exist—is respected as the author of an excellent book of etiquette rather than as the author of our being, and the greatest evil one can experience—depending on whether it be tragedy or comedy—is either to lose one's public honor or to be proved a fool.
The Renaissance dramatist was not nearly so secular, and—as T.S. Eliot wrote of Webster—he “saw the skull beneath the skin.” He concerns himself not only with death, but with what comes after, and the greatest evil he can imagine for his characters—the evil that Nashe's Cutwulf perpetrates on his tormentor and that Shakespeare's Hamlet desires for Claudius—is to die in the depths of mortal sin and be damned.
Aretina—the protagonist of The Lady of Pleasure, appropriately named after the celebrated Renaissance pornographer--is a headstrong country lady enamored of the city, eager to experience its fashions and flirtations. When she loses control, squandering both her husband's fortune and her favors, she puts herself in danger of foolishly losing both her public honor and her soul. Then a conversation she has with her casual “lover” reveals to her, as if in a mirror, the creature she has become, and it is this glimpse into the darkness of her own soul that leads her to redemption.
The reader not only gets to experience Aretina's movement from shallowness to depth, a progression worthy of a Jacobean tragi-comedy, but he also gets the smarmy jokes and smart social criticism of a worldly Restoration drama—all of this expressed in an easy, flowing blank verse that is a pleasure in itself....more
The Traitor was one of Shirley's most popular plays, and is generally considered to be his most effective tragedy after "The Cardinal." I read Shirley The Traitor was one of Shirley's most popular plays, and is generally considered to be his most effective tragedy after "The Cardinal." I read Shirley's The Cardinal years ago, liked it very much, and was pleased to find that I still liked it a good deal when I read it again last month. It was, however, the only play Of Shirley's I had read, so my entire opinion of his work was based upon it.
The Traitor makes me doubt that Shirley is as good as I once thought he was. The machinations of Lorenzo, the principal traitor, involve two separate schemes, one featuring the breaking of a betrothal and the other the destruction of the Duke. Yes, there is some relationship between the two, but exactly what that relationship is is not immediately clear, and so the first act is a little confusing. Once things get going, however, the plot is interesting if not absorbing, and the verse is as accomplished and mellifluous as that of The Cardinal. And there is an amusing subplot involving another traitor, with a mock arraignment somewhat in the Prince Hal/ Falstaff style.
The Traitor was written about ten years before The Cardinal, and yet shows more signs of decadence than its successor. Like the later work, it contains numerous echoes of earlier playwrights, but in addition it is filled with a hunger for extreme emotional effects for their own sake--a tendency I have also noticed in Beaumont and Fletcher--regardless of whether those effects move plot, intensify symbolism, or develop character. Shirley seems interested only in vicariously arousing his reader's lust (The Duke's physical description of Amidea) or pity (Amidea's depiction of her own condition and fate), not in using them to advance the action or enrich a theme.
In spite of my reservations, however, there is much to interest and amuse the reader here, and I'm sure I'll be reading more Shirley plays in the future....more
James Shirley was born in the last years of the sixteenth century, and his last major play was performed in 1642 immediately before the closing of the James Shirley was born in the last years of the sixteenth century, and his last major play was performed in 1642 immediately before the closing of the theaters. He is considered the last of the Renaissance dramatists, and--although more a poet than a practical man of the theater---he clearly loved drama and possessed the talent necessary to create believable scenes and powerful effects.
Shirley converted to Catholicism, thus losing any possibility of a career in the church, and subsequently made his living as a schoolmaster. As he was a staunch Royalist and fought--albeit briefly-during the Civil War, Shirley was able to find favor with Charles II, and in his sixties had the pleasure of seeing a few of his comedies and tragedies revived. His life came to an unfortunate end in 1666, however, when he and his wife were driven into the streets of London by the Great Fire. They both died of shock and exposure soon after.
The Cardinal was first performed in 1642 and is considered the last of the Renaissance tragedies. Although it is never great, it is consistently excellent, worth reading by anyone who loves Shakespeare and likes Webster and Middleton. The verse reminds me of John Fletcher: rarely memorable but always musical, suited to the personalities and emotions of its characters. It also contains some interesting recurring images—spy glasses and sea voyages are the most notable—which give the text added richness. The plot is reminiscent of The Duchess of Malfi,, but echoes of Shakespeare and Beaumont and Fletcher abound.
There are two things I particularly liked about the play. First, there is a charming, funny scene in which a group of masquers anxiously await their entrances, only to have their masque cancelled, and this scene is swiftly followed by another scene featuring the replacement masque, which turns out to be a mere stratagem for wreaking real horror and murder. It is a huge shift in tone, expertly executed. Secondly, the denouement—in which we are first led to sympathize with the wicked cardinal, only to find he is more wicked than we had supposed—is full of surprises and memorable effects....more
There are lots of things about this play that please and impress me, but somehow I don't think it quite works.
The best things about it are two scenes There are lots of things about this play that please and impress me, but somehow I don't think it quite works.
The best things about it are two scenes probably by Fletcher: the sympathetic portrait of Katharine of Aragon's self-defense and the dignified soliloquy of the disgraced Cardinal Wolsey after his fall. The next best thing is the artful, ironic context Shakespeare builds around them, first by creating a magnificent description of the wrestling match staged between Henry VIII and Francis I --evoking a golden age in much the same way that Enobarbus' barge-speech does in Antony and Cleopatra--and then following it almost immediately with the fall of the Duke of Buckingham, engineered on trumped-up charges by the Machiavellian Wolsey. Thus the authors let us know early on that the nobility here is superficial, barely concealing calculation and self-interest.
I think the major reasons the play as a whole is unsatisfactory is that Henry VIII never really comes to life, either as a king or a man, and the ending--which seems to imply that "all's well that ends well" because of the birth of Elizabeth--leaves the major dramatic issues unresolved.
Still, the verse is often effective and occasionally powerful, and I think every Shakespeare fan should read it--at least once....more
Loading...
