“This is, and is not, Cressid!” – Shakespeare’s ‘Troilus and Cressida’

Introduction

Troilus is a puzzling, challenging play, which repays study.  It has been infrequently performed, until recent years.

Troilus is hard to classify in terms of genre.  It is sui generis.  It can be termed a “problem play”.  It has elements of harsh comedy but also tragedy: in terms of the Trojan cause, the death of Hector is tragic.  There are internal moral and political debates, and exchanges of insults.  The war itself is a stop-start affair, interrupted by truces; the real fighting comes at the end. 

It is a very long play, as it has well over 3,000 lines.  There are two plots:  a war one (over 2,000 lines) and a love one (over 1,000 lines).

The characters

There are several famous male characters, on both the Greek and Trojan sides.  They are “heroes” that come down from Ancient Greek mythology.  But it is striking that their status is diminished in Shakespeare’s version.  Agamemnon, Ajax, Nestor and Achilles come across as selfish, pompous, arrogant and lacking in insight – unheroic, indeed.  

Achilles is playful, early in the play, and cruel, later.  He withdraws from the fighting, not because of a quarrel with Agamemnon (as in the Iliad) but because of his love for the Trojan princess Polyxena (as in the medieval sources).  He takes advantage of Hector’s temporary vulnerability to kill him.

Ulysses is clever and crafty, and he has a command of rhetoric as a tool to persuade his hearers: see his speeches on Degree [I.3] and Time [III.3].  He is kind to Troilus but harsh in his judgement of Cressida (see below).

Hector is inclined to mercy, but he can be stubborn, and he occasionally shows flawed judgement.  He rejects the demands of his wife Andromache, his sister Cassandra and his father Priam not to fight [V.3].  He prioritises his “honour”.  (Cf Iliad VI.)  Earlier, he places the “honour” associated with keeping Helen in Troy above the morality and practicality of returning her to her husband Menelaus (and ending the war) [II.2].

Troilus is young and immature, but brave in battle.  Ulysses calls him “Manly as Hector, but more dangerous” [IV.5, 104] (more dangerous because less inclined to mercy).  In love with Cressida (or infatuated with her), Troilus is bashful and hesitant.  His language is vague, flowery and dreamy.  He calls Cressida (like he does Helen) a “pearl” [I.102].  He seems unrealistic in his expectations of a love affair.  (His rival Diomedes, by contrast, is confident, blunt and explicit.)

Thersites is derogatory about everybody; and he reduces the “argument” of the war to “a whore and a cuckold” (referring to Helen and Menelaus” [II.2.71f].

Pandarus is a broker who appears to derive vicarious pleasure from the Troilus-Cressida relationship.  (Cressida actually calls him a “bawd” [I.2.281]).  Despite the services he has rendered, he is later dismissed by Troilus as a “broker-lackey”, deserving of “ignomy [ignominy] and shame” [V.10].  And in his own soliloquy (which ends the play), he not only complains of his own “diseases” but offers to “bequeath” them to the audience” [line 57].

Cressida is susceptible to overtures from strong young men.  She can be persuaded into one relationship, then out of that one into a new one.  At the same time, she appears more realistic about the potential durability of a relationship than the idealistic Troilus. 

The other female characters are: Cassandra, Andromache and Helen.  The first two are caring, insightful people, but they lack power.  Cassandra, in accordance with tradition, is never believed.  Helen is called by Troilus “a pearl” of great price [II.2, 82].  But, in the only scene in which she appears [Act III, Scene 1], she comes across as playful and unserious – and, indeed, overvalued.

The war plot 

As in the Iliad, the war plot climaxes in the killing of Patroclus by Hector and the revenge killing of Hector by Achilles.  Troilus is left to try to take on Hector’s mantle.  By the end of the play, Helen is still with Paris.  The war appears to be an exercise in futility.

The love plot

This involves the eponymous hero and heroine Troilus and Cressida, Pandarus the go-between, the Greek warrior Diomedes, and the lady’s father, Calchas.  Over one thousand lines are devoted to it.  Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde is a major source.   

When Pandarus brings Troilus and Cressida together, Cressida readily tells Troilus that she already loves him.  Before being ushered by Pandarus to bed [III.2], they both swear everlasting faithfulness to each other.  (Cf Chaucer, Books 1-3.)  These promises will be severely tested.

Meanwhile, Calchas (Cressida’s father, who has defected to the other side) persuades the Greek leaders (in return for services rendered) to let Cressida be conveyed to him from Troy, in exchange for Antenor, their prisoner of war [III.3].  The lovers and Pandarus receive the news the very morning after their night of lovemaking.  The lovers make their protests, reassert their love for each other, and exchange articles of clothing as keepsakes, but cannot resist the decision.

This pace is speeded up, in comparison with Chaucer, Books 4-5.  Contrast the leisurely narration of the epic mode and the accelerated pace characteristic of drama.  This affects the spectator’s or reader’s perception of the nature of Cressida.

Two very theatrical scenes soon follow.  (They are not paralleled in Chaucer.)  In IV.5, when Cressida is led into the Greek camp (by Diomedes), she is kissed in turn by a series of Greek leaders – Agamemnon, Nestor, Achilles and Patroclus.  They tease her, and she answers back, wittily.  What is going on here?  Penguin editor R A Foakes offers this interpretation:

“Hitherto silent, Cressida now joins in the ironic and bawdy wordplay, recalling her liveliness in talking with Pandarus in I.2, and rapidly adapting to her new companions. ”

[Penguin edition (1987), Commentary, page 208]

Ulysses accuses her of being “wanton” and “sluttish” [lines 56 and 62].  Surprisingly, perhaps, he agrees to Troilus’s request to smuggle him into the Greek camp to see Cressida. 

Act V Scene 2 gives us multiple observers: Thersites watches Ulysses watching Troilus watching Diomedes wooing Cressida.  The lady already calls Diomedes “my sweet guardian” [line 8].  Diomedes presses his suit.  Cressida is ambivalent; but she does give away a love token received from Troilus himself.  In her last words in the play (a monologue), she confesses that her heart follows her eye, and that now her eye is looking at her new lover.  She accuses herself of “turpitude” [line 114].

Troilus is devastated by this revelation.  He cannot believe his eyes and ears.  Mentally, he divides Cressida into two characters – the one he knew in Troy (loyal to him) and the one he has just seen in the Greek camp (loyal to Diomedes and false to himself).  “This is, and is not, Cressid!,” he says [line 149].  (His intellectual wrestling match with reality is vaguely reminiscent of that engaged in by Chaucer’s Troilus.)  Later, Cressida does take the trouble to write to Troilus, but he dismisses her letter as “Words, words, words, no matter from the heart” [V.3.107], and he tears it up. By now he is preoccupied with the fighting.

At the end of the play, all three lovers – Troilus, Cressida and Diomedes – remain alive.  Does this spell a happy ending for the last two?  We do not know.

Misogyny

To what extent can Cressida be blamed for her behaviour?  One can argue that she lives in a male-dominated society (both in Troy and the Greek camp), and that women are relatively powerless.  Perhaps she really does need a “guardian”, especially when away from home – even in addition to her father.  Moreover, it is the men around her who initiate actions – Pandarus, Troilus, Calchas, Diomedes, and the warriors who kiss her: she reacts.

R A Foakes sums up Cressida’s position very aptly:

“Cressida [is] a girl cast adrift in Troy with only her uncle, a humorous and immoral old bawd, for protection, a girl who becomes a piece of merchandise in the barter of war, to be traded for Antenor….[Act IV Scene 5] dramatizes the extent to which women are the playthings of warrior princes.…In Troilus and Cressida, women areweak and oppressed.”

[Penguin edition (1987), Introduction, pages 16f].

Conclusion

There are no true heroes in this play with which the reader or audience member can identify.  The writing is unflattering to the characters: we are somewhat alienated from them.  The motives for war are questionable.  Against a background of war it is hard to start and to maintain a love relationship.  The characters are unable to learn from experience.  The future looks bleak, especially for the Trojans.   All these factors (I would argue) make Troilus difficult to stage in such a way as to hold an audience’s interest.   Does acting the characters out turn them into caricatures?  It may be more suitable for a reader to study it, at leisure, in order to appreciate the philosophical arguments and the rhetoric of the great speeches.

Editions of Troilus and Cressida consulted:

Palmer, K (1982), London: Routledge, ‘Arden 2’

Foakes, RA (1987), London: Penguin (references above are to this text)

Bevington, D (1998), Walton-on-Thames: Thomas Nelson, ‘Arden 3’

and

Hyland, P (1989), Troilus and Cressida, London: Penguin, ‘Penguin Critical Studies’.

Comparisons between Boccaccio’s ‘Filostrato’ and Chaucer’s ‘Troilus and Criseyde’

Introduction

The story of Troilus and Cressida is one of the great stories of love, in the same league as (for example), Hector and Andromache, Odysseus and Penelope, Dido and Aeneas, Pyramus and Thisbe, Baucis and Philemon, Romeo and Juliet, and (a true one) Abelard and Héloïse.

The story of this couple commences as a spin-off from versions of the famous Trojan War, first told by Homer in the 1^st millennium BC and taken up by Dictys and Dares in the 1^st millennium CE.  In the 12^th century CE, Benoît de Sainte-Maure wrote a long epic poem, interspersing accounts of battles with loves stories, of which that of Troilus and Briseida (and Diomède) is one.  This was translated into Latin prose by Guido delle Colonne.

Benoît covered only the departure of Briseida from Troy to the Greek camp, and her taking up with the Greek warrior Diomède instead of Troilus.  It was Giovanni Boccaccio who (drawing upon Benoît and/or Guido) added the story of the love of Troilus and Briseida (here renamed Criseida) before she was sent away (as well as the demise of the relationship), in his verse romance Filostrato (circa 1325).

The Filostrato was the main source for Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde (circa 1385); but Chaucer also drew upon other writers and on his own imagination.  Below I give indications as to what Chaucer added to Boccaccio’s version and what he changed.

Filostrato has 5,704 lines; Troilus and Criseyde has 8,239 lines.

The main characters

Criseida/Criseyde is a young Trojan widow.  Troiolo/Troilus is a young Trojan Warrior.  Pandaro/Pandarus is the cousin/uncle of Criseida/Criseyde, and he acts as the go-between Troiolo/Troilus and her.  Calcàs/Calchas is the father of Criseida/Criseyde, who has defected to the Greek side – to the embarrassment of his daughter.  Diomede is a Greek warrior.

The main thread of the story – rise and fall.

RISE (COMEDY)

Troiolo/Troilus falls in love with Criseida/Criseyde.  Pandaro/Pandarus becomes his confidant and acts as go-between him and the lady.  The lady and the warrior commence a love affair.  They keep it secret.  (This is covered in Books 1-3 of both poems.)

FALL (TRAGEDY)

Without consulting her, Calcàs/Calchas arranges for his daughter to be moved to the Greek camp, in exchange for the Trojan prisoner of war Antenore/Antenor.  Criseida/Criseyde promises Troiolo/Troilus to escape and to return to Troy after ten days.   However, she never appears.  Instead, she is wooed by Diomede, and she switches her allegiance to him.  Troiolo/Troilus seeks revenge upon Diomede in battle, without success.  Eventually, he is killed by Achilles.  (This is covered by Books 4-9 of Filostrato and by Books 4-5 of Troilus.)

SOME OF THE DIFFERENCES – FEATURES OF FILOSTRATO    

• Giovanni Boccaccio dedicates his poemto the lady he loves, who he misses.  He compares himself, as a lover, with Troiolo. (In the Proem and Part 9.)
• Troiolo goes to Criseida’s house at night by appointment.  (Part 3.)
• Troiolo dreams of a boar ravishing Criseida – to her delight.  He interprets the boar as Diomede, and he suspects Criseida of falling in love with him.  (Part 7.)
• Troiolo’s brother Deifobo finds about Troiolo’s love and tells other eminent Trojans, including his sister Cassandra.  She teases him about his relationship with Criseida.  (Part 7.)
• The narrator concludes by warning men to beware the fickleness of young women.  (Part 8.)

SOME OF THE DIFFERENCES – FEATURES OF TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

• The narrator calls upon the Fury Tisiphone to help him tell the story of the “double sorrow” of Troilus.  He wishes all lovers well, and calls upon those lucky in love to sympathise with those who are unlucky.  (In the Proem, Book 1.)
• When Pandarus goes to see Criseyde at home, he finds her reading the Thebaid of Statius (the story of which roughly reflects that of the Trojan War itself).  (Book 2.)
• Troilus rides past Criseyde’s house twice – once from battle, the second time at Pandarus’s suggestion.  (Book 2.)
• At night in bed, Criseyde hears a nightingale sing a song of love.  She dreams of an eagle opening her body and exchanging her own heart for Troilus’s.  (Book 2.)
• Pandarus contrives a meeting in private between Troilus and Criseyde, in the house of Deiphebus, one of Troilus’s brothers.  (Book 2.)
• Pandarus brings the pair together in his own house. The couple converse, kiss and embrace.  Eventually, Pandarus pushes Troilus into bed with Criseyde and leaves.  This is the beginning of their love affair.  (Book 3.)
• When Troilus hears the news about Criseyde’s enforced move to the Greek camp, he wonders whether the impending crisis is predestined and inevitable, whether God has foreseen it, and whether what God foresees is bound to happen.  He is inclined to doubt that free will exists.  (This line of thought is derived from the Consolation of Philosophy of Boethius.)  (Book 4.)
• Troilus dreams of Criseyde kissing a wild boar.  Troilus asks his sister Cassandra to interpret his dream.  She explains that the boar in the dream is Diomede, and Criseyde and he are lovers.  Troilus rejects this interpretation.  (Book 5.)
• After his death, Troilus’s soul rises through the heavens: he has a new perspective on the world, and he laughs to himself.  (Borrowed from the fate of Arcita in Boccaccio’s own Teseida, Book XI.)  (Book 5.)
• Finally, the narrator praises the Christian God, and recommends the love of God over carnal love on earth.  (Book 5.)

Additional Comments

(i) The notes on Troilus take no account either of the verbosity or of the ingenuity of Pandarus, the go-between.  He remains ever helpful to Troilus in the course of the first three books, but he is helpless in the last two.

(ii) Chaucer manages to inject pathos into his description of Troilus’s situation.  It is noteworthy, though, that the lady and her second lover both survive to the end, whereas Troiolo/Troilus is killed (in one line of verse!).

(iii) There are hints in both poems that the lady is to be blamed for deserting her Trojan lover for her Greek one.  However, it should be conceded that as a single woman she is vulnerable, both in Troy and later in the Greek camp.  She has limited freedom: she has to make the best of the situation she finds herself in.

(iv) Chaucer’s version has a solemn, serious ending.  Throughout his works, one can see a combination of humour (even bawdiness) and piety, as for example at the end of the Canterbury Tales (in The Parson’s Tale and Chaucer’s Retraction).

(v) Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida (circa 1601) allots fewer lines to the love story than to the war story; and the characters of Cressida and Pandarus are somewhat coarsened.  (An evaluation to follow.)

Love against a background of war: the story of Troilus, Briseida and Diomedes, in Le Roman de Troie by Benoît de Sainte-Maure

INTRODUCTION

The story of Troilus and Cressida is one of the great stories of love, separation and loss that has come down to us across the centuries.

Drawing upon the first millennium CE Latin accounts of the Trojan War by Dictys Cretensis and Dares Phrygius, rather than on Homer’s Iliad, Benoît de Sainte-Maure composed his own very long (over 30,000 verse lines) Roman de Troie, in what we now call Old French, around 1165 CE. 

The Roman de Troie has been translated into English prose by Glyn S Burgess and Douglas Kelly, and published (in 2017) by D S Brewer (Woodbridge, Suffolk).  The translation has 475 pages.  It contains an introduction, a glossary of technical terms, appendices, indexes, and a bibliography.  It is comprehensive and illuminating.  It is invaluable to a student of the literature of the period, as the original Old French is opaque (quite different from modern French in many ways).

WAR AND LOVE

Benoît attributes the causes of the war to the legacy of earlier conflicts, and also a succession of abductions of women by rapacious men.  But he breaks up his account of the causes, the progress of the war, and its sequelae, with love stories (arguably, the most interesting parts), namely those of: (i) Jason and Medea, (ii) Paris and Helen, (iii) Achilles and Polyxena, and (iv) Troilus, Briseida and Diomedes.

The indirect influence of Homer’s Iliad can be detected in the Roman de Troie.  But there are also significant changes.  See for example the third love story mentioned above.  Here, Achilles does not suspend his participation in the war because of any argument with Agamemnon (cf Iliad Book I); (nor does he return in haste because of his hatred of Hector over the death of his friend Patroclus, who dies early on in Benoît’s account); he does so because of his love for the Trojan princess Polyxena, and his consequent desire for a peace settlement, in order to win her.  (In the event, he is lured into an ambush and killed.)

The fourth love story takes up about a thousand lines of the whole story (interspersed between lines 13065 and 20340).  The action can be summarised as follows.  Calchas (aka Calcas), a prophet, and the father of Briseida, defects from Troy to the Greek camp, under the influence of an oracle.  But he leaves his daughter Briseida behind in Troy.  She is in love with Troilus.  Calchas requests that Briseida be sent to him: King Priam accedes to this request.  The wishes of Briseida and Troilus in the matter are not consulted.  The Greek warrior Diomedes (aka Diomède) then woos Briseida persistently and at first unsuccessfully.  Diomedes seizes Troilus’s horse in battle and gives it to Briseida.  She gives him her (detachable) sleeve, which he can wear in battle.  Furious with Briseida, Troilus wounds Diomedes heavily, and he scornfully warns him that Briseida may not be faithful to him, either.  Briseida feels sorry for Diomedes; she confesses her love for him, despite her affection for Troilus.  Then she disappears from the narrative.  Much later, Troilus is killed by Achilles in battle (cf Virgil, Aeneid I, lines 474-8); Diomedes survives the war and goes home to his wife.

THE EMOTIONAL FACTORS

1 Troilus and Briseida are both distressed and angry at their involuntary separation.  They promise to be constant to each other.

2 When Briseida arrives in the Greek camp, she deals with Diomedes’ immediate overtures to her firmly but tactfully, pointing out that she will be “alone, without other ladies” [Burgess & Kelly, page 209], and that she must have regard to her reputation. 

3 Briseida proceeds to upbraid her father over his disloyalty to his home city.  He replies by saying that he is only obeying the “will of the gods”; and he claims that he is saving her from the forthcoming conquest and destruction of Troy.

4 Briseida soon begins to settle down in the Greek camp:

“Before she had reached the fourth evening, she would not have felt like returning to the city, or have any wish to do so.” [Burgess & Kelly, page 211]

5 Diomedes becomes obsessed with Briseida; he is said to be in her “snare”; he doubts whether he will ever “possess” her.  He confesses his love to her; she thinks that she has some power over him; she gives him “the sleeve from her right arm…for him to use as a banner” [B & K, page 228]; he is “filled with joy”.  But as for Troilus, his love for Briseida is “quashed”.

6 When Diomedes is so gravely wounded in battle that he is at risk of dying, Briseida realises that she loves him and lets this be known publicly.  However she accuses herself of acting “wrongly and ignominiously”, saying:

“I have betrayed my beloved Troilus….My heart should have been so attached to Troilus and so secure in him that I would have heeded no other man.” [B & K, page 289] 

She adds that she will be the subject of gossip in Troy and that she “shall suffer scorn for ever”.

In conclusion, then, Briseida faces up to grim reality.  She still feels rather alone: “here among the Greeks I had no counsel, no friend or confidant.” [B & K, page 290]  She makes her choice, constrained as she is by circumstances:

“And what good does it do me to repent what I have done?  In this affair no recovery is possible.  I shall therefore be faithful to this Greek, who is indeed a fine and worthy vassal.  I have already given so much of my heart to Diomedes; because of him I have acted as I did.  This would not have happened in this way if I were still in Troy.”  [B & K, pages 289f]

One can argue that Briseida is not entirely blameworthy for her predicament; she has regrets and misgivings; she has insight; her choice can be regarded as rational.

Tatyana Moran praises Benoît’s characterisation of Briseida:

“Benoît’s Briseida is in her complexity one of the most astonishing characters of mediaeval literature.  Though created in order to embody the unreliableness, the faithfulness and the heartlessness of women, she is both more and less than all that; she is no mere personification of vice but a human being, full of contradiction, driven by her instincts yet conscious of her failings, disconcerting and rather charming.” [Moran T, page 20*]

MISOGYNY

1 Benoît praises Briseida’s physical beauty but condemns her personality. His judgement is reflected in that of his male characters: Troilus, Diomedes and King Priam.  Moreover, Benoît is pretty damning about women in general (see below).

2 Priam regards Briseida as tainted by association with her treacherous father:

“If it were not the case that the maiden was worthy and noble, sensible and beautiful, she would be burned and dismembered because of her father.  Let her be off on her way.” [Burgess & Kelly, page 202]

3 Just as Briseida is setting out for Troy, Benoît predicts that she will be easily and quickly distracted by the prospect of a new relationship:

“A woman will never be perplexed for too long.  Provided she can find an alternative, her sighs will be short-lived.  Woman’s grief is of short duration.  If one eye sheds tears, the other is smiling.  Their hearts change very quickly.  The wisest woman is quite foolish.” [Burgess & Kelly, page 207]

4 Benoît reports that Briseida takes advantage of the sight of Diomedes’ love-sickness:

“Thanks to his sighs, she perceived clearly that he was totally smitten with her, and that was why she was three times harsher with him.  This is a constant feature in a woman’s character.  If she recognizes that you love her and are distraught on her account, she will always treat you with arrogance.” [B & K, page 226]

5 As Troilus wounds Diomedes in battle, he takes the opportunity to accuse Briseida of “short-lived fidelity”, “treachery”, “injustice” and “betrayal” [B & K, page 287].  Without any justification, he suggests that Diomedes will have to be “extremely vigilant”, lest Briseida (having learnt to enjoy sex) should entertain in her bed not only Diomedes himself but also “transient guests” – for payment.

The translators add a note [no 132]:

“Troilus seems to believe that Briseida is prostituting herself, and the “transient guests” would be her clients.  Robert Henryson will follow up on this surmise in his late-medieval Scottish poem The Testament of Cresseid, in which Cresseid ends her life as a prostitute.” [Page 287]

In conclusion, Briseida is treated very badly by men, in word and in deed.  Diomedes provides her with a safe haven, in a way; but the text implies strongly that he is out for what he can get (sexually) with Briseida.

BENOÎT’S INFLUENCE ON LATER WRITERS

Benoît’s fourth love storygave rise to numerous adaptations and elaborations.  Its influence (direct or indirect) can be traced in various later works, notably: (i) Giovanni Boccaccio’s Filostrato (circa 1335), (ii) Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde (circa 1385), (iii) Robert Henryson’s Testament of Cresseid (late 15^th century), and (iv) and William Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida (circa 1602). 

Benoît does not cover Troilus’s wooing of Briseida: he begins with the separation of the lovers, moves on to her meeting with Diomedes, and finishes with the lady’s eventual switch of allegiance (rather to Benoît’s disgust).  Boccaccio introduces the account of the earlier wooing, and treats it, indeed, at length.  He also creates the character of Pandarus (aka Pandaro), who brings the lovers together.  Chaucer treats the affair at even greater length and brings in new perspectives (for example, from the philosophy of The Consolation of Philosophy of Boëthius).  Shakespeare spends about two-thirds of his play on the war: the scope available for the coverage of the love triangle is therefore limited.

The expression of misogyny is less strident in Filostrato and in Troilus and Criseyde.  (But see the assessment of Burgess and Kelly, below.)  However, Henryson is wholly negative about Cresseid in his Testament.  Misogyny is prominent in the attitude of many male characters in Troilus and Cressida: see, for example, the welcome that the Greek leaders give to Cressida when she is handed over to them in Act 4, Scene 5 – they all want to kiss her, at first meeting.

In the later writers’ works, Troilus is saddened rather than enraged:

“Faced with his lady’s betrayal, Boccaccio’s Troilo [sic] persists in defending her virtue; Chaucer’s Troylus [sic] tries to find oblivion in feats of arms; Shakespeare’s hero feels the world crumbling under his feet; while Benoît’s gallant, whose pride is more wounded than his heart, revenges himself not only by fighting Diomède but by poisoning his mind against Briseida, who, he is certain, will betray her new lover just as she had betrayed his predecessor.'” [Moran T, page 19*]

In the Introduction to their translation, Burgess and Kelly have a section on ‘Women in War’ [pages 26-28].  Firstly they remind the reader that:

“The common lot of non-combatant women [all, other than Penthesilea] is rape and slaughter, or, for the ‘privileged few’ who are of high birth, abduction and life as a concubine.” [Page 26]

Then they comment on Briseida as follows:

“Briseida…adapts to her fate [as concubine], albeit less willingly and more slowly and thoughtfully than does Helen [with Paris]…. [Moreover, Briseida’s] case is special because it does not fit the misogynist version of her love for Diomedes that both Boccaccio and Chaucer relate, claiming, like Benoît, that she would find a new love only a few days after leaving Troilus….She finally accepts Diomede’s love after almost two years….” [Pages 27f]

CONCLUSION

Benoît’s stated purpose in writing Le Roman de Troie was to tell the story of the Trojan War to readers and listeners who did not know the pre-existing accounts in Latin.  (Note that the Ancient Greek Iliad only became available in Western Europe much later.)   Benoît succeeded in his purpose.

Obviously, Le Roman de Troie is very long.  The translators count 23 battles in all in the course of the main war.   The casualties are innumerable.  Unsurprisingly, there is much repetition in the descriptions of the combats and killings.  The account is varied by the inclusion of truces, negotiations and love affairs.  Material was created that proved useful to later, greater writers (see above).

The Roman, then, is of interest to specialists rather than to the general public.

*Reference

Moran, T (1968), ‘The Growth of the Troilus and Cressida Legend and Benoît de Sainte-Maure’, in Litera: Journal of Language, Literature and Cultural Studies, Volume 0, Issue 9, 9 – 24.

Retrieved via https://dergipark.org.tr/en/pub/iulitera/issue/1243/14593 10.04.23

D.R.H.

10 April 2023

Truth and Integrity – Finding Common Ground – A DECLARATION, from the Quaker Truth and Integrity Group (Britain)

                   

Truth and integrity have been at the heart of the Quaker movement for over three hundred and fifty years. We were once called Friends of the Truth, and have a tradition of speaking truth to power and exercising quiet diplomacy. Whilst our record is not flawless, historically we have stood firm in relation to the abolition of slavery, prison reform and conscientious objection.

As people of faith we seek a world transformed, where compassion, equality, truth and integrity are guiding principles. In the meantime, our belief in equality and the intrinsic worth of each individual means that we value democracy as a form of government. 

Just as we wish our children and grandchildren to inherit the beautiful planet we have experienced, so we want them to enjoy the benefits of a mature democracy where truth prospers and the rule of law applies. Governing with truth and integrity is essential for generating trust; when that trust breaks down, people become disillusioned, and leaders lose their mandate to govern.

At the core of Quakerism we experience a sense of oneness, wonder and mystery. That universal sense provides the basis for the cooperation so urgently needed in our troubled world. We seek kinder ground: the ground of tolerance, respect, mutual cooperation and shared ethical and spiritual values, where oppression can be addressed and reconciliation sought between those of opposing views. We know that this vision is shared by many other individuals and groups, of all faiths and none.

The world has entered a deeply troubling phase. Standards of truth and integrity in politics, public and commercial life and social media are being undermined to the extent that democracy itself is under threat. Many of those in power would seem to act with impunity, disregarding facts and scientific findings. Respect for the judiciary is being undermined and trust in our institutions is threatened. All this is set against a backdrop of the climate emergency and increasing inequality and polarisation. 

It was in response to this need that the Quaker Truth & Integrity Group was set up as a national Quaker body in Britain earlier this year. QTIG has committed itself to:

• upholding standards of honesty and integrity in our lives and organisations;
• acknowledging that the majority of those in public life/politics are people of goodwill and finding ways of working respectfully with them on ‘kinder ground’;
• helping to ensure the Nolan principles (selflessness, integrity, objectivity, accountability, openness, honesty and leadership)[1] continue to govern public life;
• working towards a system of truly inclusive, participative democracy, where people feel their wishes and needs are truly respected and taken into account;
• encouraging constitutional reform and strengthening systems of accountability;
• promoting higher standards of truth within the media, including social media.

With these objectives in mind, we intend to institute a national Truth Award to recognise exceptional contributions towards the enhancement of standards of truth and integrity in public life.

In a society in which lies, injustice, inequality, deception and entitlement are prevalent it is only the truth – in all its uncomfortable forms – that will heal us. 

 Where truth and integrity flourish, so too can personal relationships. Where truth and integrity stand firm, so too can our democracy and our precious traditions. Unless truth and integrity are universally acknowledged and practised, at a fundamental level, international relations cannot fully and completely address the crises that threaten our very existence.

We invite others to join us in this endeavour. We are looking to find partners, people all across the political spectrum who are of good faith and goodwill, so that we can engage together in this urgent and vital work of transformation. Can we work together?

We are not for names, nor men, nor titles of Government, nor are we for this party nor against the other … but we are for justice and mercy and truth and peace and true freedom, that these may be exalted in our nation, and that goodness, righteousness, meekness, temperance, peace and unity with God, and with one another, that these things may abound. Edward Burrough, 1659

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[1] https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/the-7-principles-of-public-life

https://quakertruth.org/

Ever more war

It is hard to be a pacifist when yet another war starts – I am thinking of Ukraine right now, without ignoring the pre-existing wars still raging (e.g. Yemen).

Pacifists don’t start wars.  They are put in an impossible position by militarists who start them.  If we had more influence, we wouldn’t start from here.

I should add that people living in safe countries are not in a position to tell Ukrainians how to react to the Russian invasion.  The choices are stark: either nonviolent resistance or violent resistance.  I do not see a half-way house.  Each course has unpredictable consequences.  The military occupation of a nonviolent country could still be brutal and oppressive; there could be deaths; there could be arrests and detention.  Forceful resistance means deaths on both sides.  This tends to include very many civilians (on the defending side), as has been clearly seen in Ukraine.  I feel too for the Russian conscripts forced to take part in this war – cannon-fodder, I guess.

We all need to live in a climate of peace and justice.  When war crimes and crimes against humanity are committed, do the ultimate adjudicators have to choose between a just settlement and an (outwardly) peaceful one?  The latter is only viable when the offended choose forgiveness over retribution.   But again, third parties are not in a position to demand that those who have suffered forgive those that have inflicted the suffering.

Pacifists have no easy answers to these matters. 

Raymond Chandler’s gimlet-eyed private detective

There are various ways of relaxing (and indeed, thinking), and one of these is by reading a book, or even a series of books.  I follow my mood when I look for something that is stimulating but not too taxing:  for example, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or some of Chaucer’s Tales.  But recently, I have re-read, with pleasure, the seven full-length novels of Raymond Chandler that feature his private detective Philip Marlowe: The Big Sleep (1939), Farewell, My Lovely (1940), The High Window (1943), The Lady in The Lake (1944) [my second favourite], The Little Sister (1949), The Long Goodbye (1953) [my favourite], and Playback (1958).

Much has already been written about these detective novels, and I do not wish to repeat all the typical comments, but I shall make a few points of my own here.

Marlowe himself is quixotic.  He is tenacious, to the point of stubbornness.  He goes far beyond the call of duty, at times.  He is susceptible to the charms of women:

She was slim and quite tall in a white linen tailor-made with a black and white polka-dotted scarf around her throat.  Her hair was the pale gold of a fairy princess.  There was a small hat on it into which the pale gold hair nestled like a bird in its nest.  Her eyes were cornflour blue, and the lashes were long and almost too pale…..She was unclassifiable, as remote and clear as mountain water, as elusive as its colour.

The Long Goodbye, Chapter 13

Marlowe should have been killed or maimed on numerous occasions, in the course of his work as a private detective:

You don’t get rich, you don’t often have fun.  Sometimes you get beaten up or shot at or tossed in the jailhouse.  Once in a long while you get dead.

The Long Goodbye, Chapter 21

But somehow he always survives his ordeals.   

While Marlowe prides himself on his respect for his employers’ privacy and the principle of confidentiality, it is doubtful whether he should withhold evidence from the Police when there has been a murder.  One of the recurring themes of the novels is the rough, hard attitude that many police officers display towards Marlowe.  Some officers are undoubtedly corrupt.  (An excuse given is that they are badly paid and poorly led.)  Marlowe’s own approach is to assess officers on a case by case basis, and to co-operate with those that show him some consideration.

The novels feature a great number of female murderers – at a higher ratio to men than in real life. 

Marlowe relies a lot on his intuition rather than the hard evidence he has uncovered; and it generally turns out that his mind takes him in the right direction.

Chandler vividly depicts mid-20^th century Southern California: the countryside, the ocean, city streets, offices, hotels, private houses and apartment houses, bars, cars, and above all people (honest and dishonest) – their features, their clothes, and their moods:

He had a sweat-stained Stetson on the back of his head and his large hairless hands were clasped comfortably over his stomach, above the waistband of a pair of khaki pants that had been scrubbed thin years ago.  His shirt matched the pants except that it was even more faded.  It was buttoned tight to the man’s thick neck and undecorated by a tie.  His hair was mousy brown except at the temples, where it was the colour of old snow….The star on his left breast had a bent point.

He had large ears and friendly eyes and his jaws munched slowly and he looked as dangerous as a squirrel and much less nervous.  I liked everything about him. 

The Lady in the Lake, Chapter 7

The first person narrative works well, as does the snappy dialogue between characters.  The narrator does share much information – and his own thinking – with the reader, but sometimes the reasons for his next move (led by his intuition) are left out, until an explanation appears later.

Chandler’s plots are complicated.  However, one can perceive a pattern, common to most of the books.  Marlowe is offered two assignments, in fairly quick succession.  The two tasks do not appear to be related, at first, but it turns out that they are.  Frequently, one task is set by an employer, and has strictly defined limits, while the other one is chosen by Marlowe on his own initiative, without a clear prospect of payment.  Marlowe is led by his own curiosity to fill in the blank parts of the big picture.

For example, the early focus of The High Window (1943) is on the retrieval of a rare coin, stolen from a family’s collection.  Marlowe spends much time searching for it and the reason for the theft (while, as usual, discovering dead bodies on the way).  But the emphasis shifts towards the unhealthy relationship between his domineering female employer and her submissive secretary.  He is chivalrous towards the young woman and starts to help her.  When he consults his friend Dr Carl Moss about her, the doctor calls him, in an Arthurian reference, a “shop-soiled Galahad” [Chapter 28].

Now, detective stories are about good and evil, plot and resolution, mystery and revelation, and the pursuit of justice (and sometimes the pursuit of revenge).  They address, in varying degrees, the ultimate challenge to human identity – death:

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead?  In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill?  You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that.  Oil and water were the same to you as wind and air to you.  You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.  Me, I was part of that nastiness now.

The Big Sleep, Chapter 32

In Chandler’s Marlowe stories, the detective is both a “Galahad” and “shop-soiled”.  He fears that, in the course of his investigations, he himself becomes contaminated by his continual association with violent death.  He is imperfect, but he tries to live a good life, even if not an exemplary one.  He is not complacent but self-critical.  He is human. 

The Marlowe novels have breadth (albeit with a tilt towards the seamy side of life) and depth.  Insofar as they depict a particular time and place and constants of human behaviour, they have universal value.  They are great literature – a delight to read and re-read.  To the best of my knowledge, they have never been out of print.

HEROIC QUEEN CATALINA

Prior to re-reading Hilary Mantel’s acclaimed trilogyabout the reign of King Henry VIII of England and the career of one of his chief ministers, Thomas Cromwell, I have been looking at other works about the period.  I have re-read Robert Bolt’s play, A Man for All Seasons (1960); I have looked again at the play, The Book of Sir Thomas More (1590s); and I have just re-read J Fletcher and W Shakespeare’s play, The Famous History of the Life of King Henry VIII (written circa 1613). 

In parallel, I have found and read the eye-witness account of certain events of the time, namely: Thomas Wolsey, late Cardinal – his Life and Death, written by George Cavendish, his gentleman-usher (Folio Society, ed R Lockyer, 1962).

There are close parallels between certain passages in the prior Thomas Wolsey and the later King Henry VIII.   One is a source of the other, whether directly or indirectly (via Holinshed’s Chronicles).

At the height of his power, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey was Henry VIII’s chief minister, notorious for his avarice and ambition.  It was Wolsey who was first entrusted by Henry with the task of persuading the Pope to annul Henry’s marriage (1509) to the Spanish princess, Catalina de Aragón y Castilla, known in England as Katherine (Catherine) of Aragon.  Inevitably, Wolsey came into conflict with Katherine, who wished to stay married to Henry (see below).

The English negotiators’ failure to achieve an annulment finally resulted in the English Church being severed from the Roman Catholic Church, and the foundation of the Church of England, with the monarch as its Supreme Head.  This was the first “Brexit” – somewhat like the UK’s exit from the European Union today!

From the pages of both Thomas Wolsey and Henry VIII, Katherine herself emerges as an admirable character – faithful and intelligent, and eloquent in her self-defence. 

In 1529 the first phase of the divorce trial (Henry v Katherine) commenced – the Queen alone among an assembly of men.  Katherine states her defence case in a magnificent speech, addressed primarily to the King himself, as follows:

Sir, I beseech you for all the love that hath been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice and right, take of me some pity and compassion, for I am a poor woman and a stranger born out of your dominion….Alas! Sir, wherein have I offended you….now that you intend (as I perceive) to put me from you?”

[Page 114]

Katherine insists that she has been a “true, humble and obedient wife”, and that when she married Henry “I was a true maid without touch of man” [114].

The Queen goes on to allude to the wise judgement of Fernando (Ferdinand II of Aragon), her own father, and Henry VII, Henry’s father, who both considered the marriage to be “good and lawful.” 

Katherine complains that false charges have been made against her.  However, she lacks the independent advocates she needs:

Ye must consider that these men cannot be impartial counsellors for my part since they are your subjects….and dare not, for fear of your pleasure, disobey your will and intent.

[115]

The Queen asks to be spared “the extremity of this court” until she receives advice from Spain.  Finally, she says, “And if ye will not extend to me so much impartial favour, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and to God I commit my cause!”  [115].

Katherine then promptly leaves the court: “And even with that she rose up, making a low curtsy to the King, and so departed from thence” [115].  She is called back into court but does not return!  But in her absence the divorce mill grinds slowly and irrevocably on. 

Compare Cavendish’s account [pages 112-117] with Henry VIII, Act II, Scene 4, where the story is extended.  The Queen’s great speech itself is versified by Shakespeare in lines 13-57. 

Katherine next appears in Cavendish’s account on pages 122f.  She receives Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeggio (Campeius) at home: they desire to talk to her further about the King’s demand that she submit to his wishes.  Wolsey starts talking in Latin.    She replies, “Nay, good my Lord, speak to me in English I beseech you, although I understand Latin.”  Compare Henry VIII, III.1, 46ff.  The content of their private interview is enlarged upon in the play.  Katherine resists their arguments and makes word-play of their titles:

Holy men I thought ye,

Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;              

But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye.

[102ff]

Katherine now disappears from the eye-witness account, and Cavendish’s attention is focussed on Wolsey’s downfall and his death (compare Henry VIII, III.2.)  In the play [Act IV, Scene 2], Katherine’s last hours (historically, in 1536) are imagined by John Fletcher, co-dramatist.  Here, she is living in isolation, with a few servants, away from London.  She is informed of the death of Wolsey (historically, in 1530).  She is portrayed, with sympathy and pathos, as philosophical and resigned to her fate, and accepting of her imminent death.  She is visited by a vision of “spirits of peace” – “a blessed troop/….whose bright faces/Cast thousand beams upon me like the sun” [83ff].  Eustace Chapuys (Capuchius), the Emperor’s ambassador visits her, and she asks him to pass on a message to Henry, commending her daughter Mary, and her own, servants to his care.  Her final words are these:

Remember me

In all humility unto his highness….

Tell him in death I blessed him,

For so I will…..

                  When I am dead, good wench,

Let me be used with honour; strew me over

With maiden flowers, that all the world may know

I was a chaste wife to my grave.  Embalm me,

Then lay me forth; although unqueened, yet like

A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.

I can no more.

[160ff]

Katherine is both a tragic character, and a heroic one, standing up, as she did, to immense pressure.  After her death she was buried in Peterborough Cathedral; and she is still remembered there.

Nineteen Seventy Six 1976

Among remarkable years, this was a truly remarkable one for me.  It was the year I qualified as a social worker, among many other things.

At the beginning, Jane and I (not long married) were living in a terraced house in Wavertree, Liverpool, but spending much time apart.  I was studying social work in Manchester, while Jane was teaching in Huyton, near Liverpool.  I spent a few nights each week at the house of a Friend in Manchester, to cut down on travel back and fore.  And when I did go to and fro between the two cities, I had a choice of the train or our little car (a Fiat 126).  I had only passed my driving test in November 1975, and now I had to cope with heavy traffic between the cities, whichever route I took. 

At the beginning of the year I spent part of my time on placement at Booth Hall Children’s Hospital, North Manchester, visiting the parents of children referred to the Child Guidance Service, to write up assessments.  This meant travelling around much of Greater Manchester, with a map but no “satnav”, and trying to find the right turning off main roads to enter the right residential street.

In the summer I spent a few months based at Denbigh Hospital in North Wales, staying in the Nurses’ Hostel during the week.  Again, this involved, not only talking to inpatients, but going to outpatient clinics and travelling around North-East Wales to see clients in their own homes.

The summer was characterised by a severe drought.  One day there was a sharp shower which made a hospital drive very slippery, like ice.  The surface made me lose control of the car and crash.  Fortunately I was not hurt, and the car was reparable.

1976 was the year Jane and I made the major decision to leave Liverpool and to move to South Wales.  We had separate job interviews with Mid Glamorgan County Council: I was interviewed in Cardiff, with work based in Bridgend in mind; and Jane had an interview in Bridgend for a teaching job in Kenfig Hill. 

Jane actually drove from Liverpool to Bridgend in one day, setting out very early.  (She had kept her commitment to the Liverpool Welsh Choral the previous day.)  Unfortunately, she locked herself out of the house.   I was not at home, and unable to let her back in.  So her intended early start was delayed.  She got back in by climbing through a window that had louvres at the top, at the back of the house, supervised by an officer from Wavertree Police Station.  Then she left about six instead of five, for an interview in Bridgend at ten or half-past, travelling along a route she did not know – at least, the far end of it.  She did not see a sign for Bridgend until she was in the Cowbridge area and she stopped a policeman to check that she was on the right road and not far.  She arrived for her interview on time.

So, we put our house in Liverpool on the market, but it did not sell for months.  We let Friends stay in it while they were house hunting, rent-free.  On one occasion I went up by train to see how they were getting on.

At the end of August we moved, with basics, to stay with my parents in Newport.  We had one stop, about half-way, in a layby in Brayston Hill, near Shrewsbury, on the A49.  I felt upset – I don’t know why.  I remember the feeling whenever we travel the same way.

The drought (just ending) meant that the water supply was rationed in Newport, whereas in the Bridgend area it was still plentiful, because of a local spring that never gave out.

Day after day we commuted along the A48 to our work-places.  Not only was the route busy and congested.  The drought ended and it rained every day till Christmas. 

We thought of ways of being more flexible.  We spent a couple of nights a week at the Friends meeting House, Park Street, Bridgend, to save on travel.  (Sometimes, in the evening, people involved in evening classes would knock on ayour door and ask us questions we could not answer.)  In those days, the Meeting House was cold and dark and not very inviting.

We bought an old “mini” van, so we had a vehicle each.  Unfortunately, neither of our cars was very reliable. 

Staying with my parents was not very convenient, for anybody.  It was hard for us, after living independently; and it was hard on my parents too.

At weekends we house-hunted as best we could.  We secured a semi-detached house in Westminster Way, Cefn Glas, Bridgend.  (We had made an offer on another house, earlier in the year, but had had to withdraw, because of not selling our own in Liverpool.)  We moved in in late December.  This was before completion of the sale, though.  We were told off by solicitors and had to pay a week’s rent for the house we did not yet own.

Just after moving in, round about the New Year, one evening, we were sitting in our new house minding our own business, when we heard a knock at our back door.  We opened it to find a young girl (about twelve) there.  She was anxious.  She had left home nearby, after a row.  We took her in and thought what to do.  After talking to her and calming her somewhat, we rang her parents, to tell her that their daughter was safe.  They asked whether we could be trusted.  We knew that we were in positions of authority and trust, in our occupations, but we did not want to say too much about ourselves.  In the end, we arranged to take the girl home, in the dark, without making direct contact with her family.  And we never saw anything of her again.

Thus ended an eventful year.

‘King Lear’ 2018

Background – general

Prof G K Hunter has written: “King Lear is generally agreed today to be Shakespeare’s ‘greatest play’….The play as a whole gives an impression of a monolithic and rough-hewn grandeur” [New Penguin edition, 1972, page 7].

Prof R A Foakes has written: “King Lear stands like a colossus at the centre of Shakespeare’s achievement as the grandest effort of his imagination” [Arden 3 edition, 1997, page 1].

However, doyen theatre critic Michael Billington has left Lear out of his 101 Greatest Plays [Guardian Books and Faber & Faber, 2015].  He explains his decision thus: “I admit it’s a craggily awesome play….I can only say that….I find it structurally unwieldy: the Gloucester sub-plot too consciously mirrors the main plot, and I find Edgar’s refusal to identify himself to his father inexplicable and needlessly cruel” [page 15].

Television productions

TV productions include the BBC Television version (1982) (with Sir Michael Hordern as Lear), the Granada Television version (1983) (with Laurence Olivier as the King), and the British-American TV film shown on the BBC in May 2018, directed by Sir Richard Eyre, with Sir Anthony Hopkins in the title role.  The running time of the latter is 115 minutes, because of substantial cuts.  Because of the bleakness and the cruelty intrinsic to the play – enhanced in performance – I have waited for nearly three years to watch it (saved as it is on my “black box” hard drive).

Evaluation

In order to properly revisit the play and to re-evaluate it, I decided to re-read it and also to compare it with the 2018 television film. 

I have found that my re-reading, at speed, with little reference to explanatory notes, has taken about three-and-a-quarter hours.  I have relied on the Arden 3 text – a conflation of the Quarto and Folio texts of the early 17^th century.  A performance of all of this would take as long, if not longer, because of stage business (music and movements without speech).  It is a long play: doubtless all directors feel obliged to curtail it somewhat.

Conclusions from re-reading

1 The main plot resembles a fairy tale, with its two “bad” elder daughters and one “good” younger one.  Compare the Cinderella story, in its various versions.  The minor plot has one “good” elder son and one “bad” younger one.

2 King Lear’s career goes through the last three stages of Shakespeare’s “Seven Ages of Man” (compare As You Like It): at the outset, he is like the “justice”; as he declines there is some resemblance to the “pantaloon” and even “second childishness”.  However: (i) Lear’s character undergoes a partial reversal of this process, at the end; (ii) it is Gloucester, not Lear, who is “sans eyes”, from Act 3 Scene 7 onwards.

3 Does Lear go “mad”?  Many say so.  Does he suffer from dementia?  But he does not suffer from a readily recognisable mental illness.  The best fit is a depression, in reaction to his vicissitudes (and to his realisation of his poor decision making).

4 The language of the play is rhetorical and poetic; it is varied; but many words and phrases are obscure and require notes for understanding.  Often, the poetry overwhelms the progress of the story.  Some passages are like operatic arias: see for example Edgar’s description of the coastal landscape [4.6.11-24] from the top of the cliff, and also his pretence that his father has survived a great fall [4.6.49-59].

5 While editors Hunter and Foakes use the Folio text rather than the Quartos as the basis of their editions, several Quarto passages omitted from the Folio are useful for inclusion in a performance because of their poetic and dramatic qualities – for example Lear’s “trial” of Goneril and Regan [3.6.17-55].

6 The part of the Fool is an attractive one.  He is the only source of “comic relief” in the whole play.  Unaccountably, he goes missing in the middle of the play. 

7 The opening scene is truly magnificent – it is all that one could hope for as an exposition.  It is paralleled somewhat by the final tableau [circa 5.3.229-325], where all three daughters are re-united – albeit in death – on the stage, where Lear himself joins them.

8 The scene where Gloucester is blinded on stage (Act 3 Scene 7) is unbearable to watch.  An example of an excess of bad taste?

9 Arguably, Shakespeare loses control of his complex material in the last third or so of the play.  There are some riddles here: 

• What happens to the Fool?
• What happens to the King of France? 
• What does Kent do during the battle?
• Why does Edgar not reveal his true identity to his father?
• How does Edgar change back into a respectable-looking man (and make a good impression on Albany)? 
• Does Edmund die from his wounds?
• How can a private duel take place in the aftermath of a battle?

10 The Gloucester-Edgar-Edmund sub-plot is closely linked to the main plot, but the elaborate working out of it takes up much space on the page (and much time on the stage or screen if it is given its full scope).  I have some sympathy with the judgement of Michael Billington (above), but I wonder how any excision of the sub-plot could be carried out satisfactorily.

Remarks on the 2018 television film

1 This is a “modern dress” production, which includes “soldiers” in camouflage uniform.  (Perhaps the real armed forces contribute to the pool of extras.)

2 The principal actors are justly famous, and their acting here is impressive.  Sir Anthony as Lear, Emma Thompson as Goneril, Emily Watson as Regan, and Jim Broadbent as Gloucester, fit their roles as hands fit in gloves.  The roles of Cordelia (Florence Pugh), Edgar (Andrew Scott) and Kent (Jim Carter) are much reduced.

3 The cuts mentioned above are pretty drastic; the momentum – the main thrust of the story – is maintained; some of the links in the chain of events are missing, because of these omissions.   

4 Emma Thompson and Emily Watson succeed in making Goneril and Regan appear as somewhat reasonable in contrast with their unreasonable father – that is, until their capability for mercilessness and cruelty is exposed unambiguously.

5 The film is well worth watching.

Conclusion

King Lear has many fine dramatic qualities, with memorable poignant scenes and evocations of character.  It also has many highly poetic passages.  Visiting it and revisiting it (whether on the page, in the theatre, in the cinema or on television) is a “must” for lovers of Shakespeare. 

Whether it is his “greatest play” remains a matter of dispute.  This not a competition!

Plots and Plautus

I have been rather occupied with the Ancient Roman playwright Plautus recently.  I have been looking at the influence of his Menaechmi – about twin brothers – upon Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors (which has often been remarked upon).  I have also been wondering too about the relationship between Menaechmi and Oscar Wilde’s Importance of Being Earnest, which is not as obvious.  

Wilde was very well read in the plays of 1^st millennium BCE dramatists, including those of Menander, Plautus and Terence.  In her 2014 PhD dissertation (see below) Prof SS Witzke argues that not only Menaechmi but also other ancient plays had an influence on Wilde’s society comedies, namely, Lady Windermere’s Fan, A Woman of No Importance, An Ideal Husband, and The Importance of Being Earnest itself. 

First I touch upon the Menaechmi-Earnest link (which is my own focus).

There are two separated brothers in Plautus’s Menaechmi, who finally meet up.  There are two brothers in Wilde’s Importance of Being Earnest. But the two brothers in Earnest already know each other, albeit only as friends, as the true identity of one of them is concealed.  For the two brothers in Menaechmi, fraternity is more important than marriage (sex is available from the likes of Erotium); and the one existing marriage is dissolved at the end of the play.  It is better to be a brother than an only child, in Earnest; at the same time, both principal men are in the marriage market (while not being in competition with each other); and, as in many comedies, the play ends with the prospect of marriages. 

There are major differences between the plots and the settings of Menaechmi and Earnest.  But there are similarities, and I take note here of two.

Firstly, the visiting brother in Menaechmi arrives in his brother’s city and takes advantages of the latter’s pleasures, just as Algernon invades Jack’s country domain in Act II of Earnest.  Prof Witke sums this up as follows:

Secondly, in Act III of Earnest, the two principal men are revealed to be brothers, just as Plautus’s twins are at the end of his play.  (This reminds one that Algernon woos Cecily, Jack’s ward, just as Sosicles [aka Antipholus of Syracuse] woos Luciana (actually his sister-in-law) in Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors.)

The worlds of Menander, Plautus and Terence reflect an overtly patriarchal society, where a lower status is granted to women.  Any such discrimination against women in the 1895 English world of Earnest is not evident: Lady Bracknell, Gwendolen Fairfax and Cecily Cardew are all very assertive (Miss Prism less so).  Indeed, Lady Bracknell acts as a “blocking agent” vis-à-vis the relationship between Jack and Gwendolen in Act I.

Cecily, thinking Algernon was Ernest, invited him in to lunch like Erotium invited Sosicles (II.169-71). Cecily remarks that “Ernest” is in the dining room when Jack arrives (II.302-03). Over an agitated tea Algernon also deprives Jack of his muffins (II.823-92).  Thus Wilde partially enacts much of the Menaechmi plotline.  [Witke, 2014, p190]

Plautus writes farces, where the dynamic plot is more important than characterisation: in other words, there are “types”, such as the braggart soldier (in Miles Gloriosus) and the miser (in Aulularia).  Earnest is a sort of a farce.  It is witty.  There are plot twists.  There is social satire.  The characters go through the paces of the farcical plot.  However, the characters have sufficient depth to be interesting.  (Some have multiple identities.)  They may not be admirable, but they are human.  The happy endings (three weddings!) please everybody.

As for Menaechmi and The Comedy of Errors, I tabulate some similarities and differences, as follows:

Similarities

1. A young man seeks his lost brother
2. The visiting brother and his slave come from Syracuse
3. The resident brother is married, the visiting brother is not
4. The local brother is locked out by his wife (see also the Amphitryon [note other spellings] of Plautus)
5. There is a mad doctor
6. The resident brother is arrested but escapes (in Errors), whereas he is seized but rescued by his slave (in Menaechmi)

Differences

1. The location – Epidamnus (Plautus) versus Ephesus (Shakespeare)
2. Exposition through dialogue in the first scene (Shakespeare) versus an address to the audience by an actor, as a prologue (Plautus)
3. One slave (Plautus) versus two (Shakespeare)
4. Still living relatives (if any) not mentioned (Plautus) versus parents still alive (Shakespeare)  – Errors is somewhat book-ended by the involvement of the father at the beginning and the mother at the end
5. The risk of death to the father (Shakespeare) – not a factor in Plautus
6. The early entry of the resident twin (Plautus, line 110) versus that of the visiting twin (Shakespeare, Act 1 scene 2)
7. More lines for the resident twin (Plautus) versus more lines for the visitor Shakespeare)
8. Long speeches (in verse) by the resident sisters and the visiting brother (Shakespeare, Act 2 scenes 1 and 2 and Act 3 scene 2) [see the next point]
9. The wooing by the visiting brother of the unmarried sister (Shakespeare only), ultimately leading to the prospect of marriage
10. Selling up and moving back to Syracuse (Plautus) versus staying put (Shakespeare) [see the next point]
11. Divorce (Plautus) versus reconciliation and marriage (Shakespeare) – one wife given up versus a second wife gained
12. Different minor characters: note the jokes the visitors make about the kitchen-maid (Shakespeare, Act 3, scene 2)
13. The role of the prostitute in Plautus is toned down by Shakespeare.

(Doubtless more differences can be detected by the careful reader.)

Here we can see that Shakespeare has worked hard and very imaginatively with the materials available and has added his own.  The additions contribute to the greater length of Errors – circa 1,780 lines – versus 1,162 in Menaechmi.

Reference

Witzke, S S (2014), Reading Greek and Roman New Comedy through Oscar Wilde’s Plays, PhDdissertation, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.  https://doi.org/10.17615/pb1b-hn04