Malia Ruehl
“Theatre has to be assessed as theatre, not as textual criticism or commentary.”
-Andrew James Hartley
In this quote from his article, “The Schrödinger Effect: Reading and Misreading Performance,” Andrew James Hartley argues that merely reading the words of a theatrical piece for analysis is to ignore the choices determined in the performance. Using the example of Schrödinger’s Cat—existing simultaneously alive and dead until its box is open—Hartley writes that while a play in performance “can leave some things open-ended, it must also commit: each line (generally) will be delivered only one way, by an actor whose stance, demeanour [sic], costume, etc. all close off other options” (224). In other words, performance is what alerts the audience to the intended meaning.
It is with this assertion in mind that I examine The Revenger’s Tragedy by Thomas Middleton.[1] The immediate difficulty inherent in such an approach when applied to an early modern play is the lack of extant performance information available for analysis of original staging and presentation. Left without extensive records, readers are left to imagine the performance which might help to define meaning according to the elements left hinted at within the work itself.
It is the unfortunate reality of any attempt at considering performance in the analysis of early modern plays that some conjecture is unavoidable. I do not argue with this, but in an attempt to avoid more speculation than is strictly necessary, I intend to examine The Revenger’s Tragedy through the properties (props) specifically called for by the text and the staged scenes. This approach assumes that such properties, in their capacities as establishing setting, operate to influence the visual performances of the scenes where they appear. Specifically, I wish to argue that an examination of these properties can help to highlight visual parallels integral to understanding The Revenger’s Tragedy.
It is widely understood that there are numerous connections between Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Middleton’s The Revenger’s Tragedy. Each has a noble young avenger waging war against an unjust and immoral character in a position of power, and the textual parallels are too numerous for the time allotted here. Suffice it to say, The Revenger’s Tragedy was performed about five years after Hamlet and it is highly likely that the costumes, props, and actors were reused in ways which created visual echoes between the two works. While this comparison between the titular Hamlet and the protagonist of The Revenger’s Tragedy, Vindice, asks audiences to thinks about the differences between the two men as they seek revenge, lack of familiarity with The Revenger’s Tragedy in performance has lead to scholars often over-looking the internal contrast between Vindice’s hot-headed quest and the wronged Duke Antonio’s methodical pursuit of justice through traditional legal channels.
While textual analysis privileges reading practices which very well might make such connections apparent to academic examination, I explore the visual parallels between 1.4 and 2.3. In 1.4, Antonio presents the body of his wife who had killed herself after being sexually assaulted by the Duke’s stepson to other members of the court. In 2.3, as revenge for the Duke’s lascivious pursuit of Vindice’s fiancé which led to her death, Vindice throws aside his deliberate scheme for revenge in order to goad the Duke’s son into entering the Duke’s bedroom intent on catching the Duchess committing adultery with the Duke’s illegitimate son. Both scenes share revealed curtain, beds with women’s bodies on them, and men with drawn swords. These visual parallels were readily observed by Middleton’s original audiences who were without access to written versions of the work. It is my contention that this kind of comparison between performed scenes leads to a different understanding of the play’s presentation of revenge and its consequences.
Scene 1.4 begins with the stage direction, “Enter the discontented Lord Antonio, whose wife the Duchess’ youngest son ravished; he discovering the body of her dead to certain lords [including Piero] and Hippolito.” Andrew Gurr explains this with his description of a “discovery-space” as an area on stage, perhaps covered with curtains which could be pulled back to reveal something behind them (186). Picturing this scene, Antonio and the “certain lords” gazing at Antonio’s wife’s dead body,[2] it becomes necessary to imagine how the body might have appeared. Given Antonio’s apparent affection for her and the reverence of the other lords as they view her it is clear that she would not have been revealed laid on the ground. Shortly into the scene, Antonio remarks, “I marked not this before: A prayer book the pillow to her cheek— / This was her rich confection—and another / Placed in her right hand, with a leaf tucked up” (1.4.12-15). The deliberate posture in which the wife lays, with the prayer books attesting to her virtue, would not be accomplished if her body was merely sprawled out on the floor. It stands to reason that she is laid out on a bed of some kind just as can be seen visually echoed later in the play.
This process of discovery and revelation is mirrored in 2.3 where the stage directions read, “Enter again [Lussurioso, his sword drawn, and Vindice. A curtained bed is thrust out containing the Duke and the Duchess, hidden from view by the bed curtain].” Despite the editorially inserted stage directions indicated by the brackets, later lines make it clear that there is indeed a bed—the Duke cries out, “take me not in sleep” (2.3.9)—and the Duke and Duchess are discovered together, confounding Lussurioso’s expectations. The tableau created by pulling back the curtain and revealing the bed could very easily evoke the earlier scene revealing Antonio’s wife’s body.
Furthering this visual parallel, swords appear in both scenes. In 1.4.67-64, the swords are drawn in an orderly ritual of oath-taking as Antonio and the lords stand over his wife’s body and swear to carry out vengeance only if justice is not carried out by the court in a legal manner. The process is orderly, calm, and solemn. This is a stark contrast to this scene’s echo in 2.3 where Lussurioso rushes in with his sword already drawn and ready to murder the adulterers. As the Duke cries for his life, more men with swords rush onstage in a moment visual parodic of the reverence demonstrated in 1.4. Men are shouting and confusion reigns as Lussurioso protests his innocence, the Duchess yells “treason” (2.3.8). There is no time for measured and deliberate speeches.
In the earlier scene, Antonio presides over the body of his wife with measured intent. He describes her rape in detail, translates her virtue by calling attention to her prayer books, and finishes the scene with, “I joy / In this one happiness above the rest, / Which will be called a miracle at last: / That being an old man, I’d a wife so chaste” (1.4.74-77). As Kim Solga points out (and as is echoed throughout this play), women’s words were often not trusted. She writes, “The avowedly innocent rape victim must not only refuse consent to her attacker, but also find a way to make her non-consent visible to a public deeply skeptical of women's sexual motives” (58). By killing herself and including verses to explain her motive, “Better to die in virtue then live in shame” (footnoted translation of 1.4.23), Antonio’s wife attests to her innocence. As Antonio presents this and it is accepted by the accompanying lords, he presents the image of a devoted husband, willing to wait for justice to be served in the court. The oath that is sworn on swords, is lead by Hippolito, Antonio’s friend. Antonio is left as pure and innocent as his wife. With no hand in any of the murders filling the rest of the play, Antonio embodies propriety.
Vindice, intent on getting revenge for the death of Gloriana, is willing to enter into chaos. Already bent on killing the Duke, he sees no problem with trying to get Lussurioso to do it for him. He abandons his carefully laid plan to take advantage of the moment presented by Lussurioso’s presence. After the initial flurry and Lussurioso’s failure to kill the Duke in 2.3, Vindice expresses regret, “Would he had killed him! Twould have eased our swords” (2.3.33). He relishes his quest and nothing will stop him. He flees, resolved to find another opportunity to take revenge.
Antonio, on the other hand, appears ready to wait for justice. 1.4 is calm and collected. The lords express repeated support for Antonio’s wife and it is one of them that calls for an oath promising revenge if justice is not served. Even this violent oath, however, is performed quietly and with sincerity. Antonio responds only by thanking the men. He is all order and deliberation where Vindice is instinct and recklessness. This contrast is made clear by the staging requirements of these two scenes.
In literary criticism, it is expected that scholars closely study text and look for connections such as repeated phrases. What I hope to have proven with this examination of two scenes from The Revenger’s Tragedy is that, by considering the performance of this piece, an opportunity arises where the play invites audiences to compare the scenes and the men within them. Rather than comparing action and inaction as one might in an examination of Vindice and the more generally familiar Hamlet, by exploring beyond the limits of textual analysis and acknowledging performance to be integral to meaning-making in theatrical works, The Revenger’s Tragedy can be understood on its own as a performance of the consequences when people take the law into our own hands. Both men seek justice, but when the play ends, it is no coincidence that the lawful Antonio becomes the new Duke and Vindice is lead away to be executed for murder and treason. Antonio is unsullied by revenge having trusted in the order of law. Vindice, having become corrupted by multiple murders and schemes, is no longer on the side of justice. His path, that of vigilante justice and disorder, cannot be rewarded. The audience is left with a moral warning that crime, however justified, does not pay.
Notes
This conference paper is condensed from a longer piece of ongoing research.
Thanks to Sophia Metcalf, Carmen Kennedy, Noah East, Misha Canoy, Eric Schwan, and Megan O’Reilly for their feedback and interesting presentations. Additional thanks to Ariel Castaneda for organizing the panel and to Dr. Marlin Blaine for moderating it.
[1] For the purpose of this paper, I align myself with the majority of scholars currently attributing this play to Thomas Middleton. Previously, Revenger’s Tragedy was credited to Cyril Tourneur before reattribution based on internal textual clues (Miller 62).
[2] Troublingly, Antonio’s wife is never named in the play despite her death providing the inciting action for much of the plot. Conjecture about the reason for this is outside of the scope of this paper but potentially generative. Particularly considered in conjunction with the treatment of Gloriana’s skull by Vindice.
Works Cited
Gurr, Andrew. The Shakespearean Stage 1574-1642. Cambridge UP, 2014.
Hartley, Andrew James. “The Schrödinger Effect: Reading and Misreading
Performance.” Shakespeare Survey, Cambridge UP, 2009, pp. 222-235.
Middleton, Thomas. The Revenger’s Tragedy. English Renaissance
Drama. W. W. Norton & Company Inc, 2002, pp. 1297-1370.
Miller, Nichole. “The Revenger’s Decision: Exceptional Law between
Middleton and Schmitt.” Violence and Grace, Northwestern UP, 2014, pp. 61-96.
Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. The Riverside Shakespeare, edited by G.
Blakemore Evans et al., Houghton Mifflin, 1974, pp. 1135-1197.
Solga, Kim. “Rape's Metatheatrical Return: Rehearsing Sexual Violence
among the Early Moderns.” Theatre Journal, vol. 58, no. 1, Mar. 2006, pp. 53-72.
Biography
Malia Ruehl is a graduate student and teaching associate in the EML department at Cal Poly, Pomona with a dual focus on literature and rhetoric/composition. She is particularly interested in the possibilities generated by using rhetorical analysis in literary criticism, especially concerning theatrical texts.
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