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Moral vision in the drama of Thomas Otway

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Moral vision in the drama of Thomas Otway
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Walker, John David, 1931-
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1967
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English
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vii, 217 leaves : ; 28 cm.

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Death ( jstor )
Fathers ( jstor )
Happiness ( jstor )
Hate ( jstor )
Human nature ( jstor )
Kings ( jstor )
Queens ( jstor )
Revenge ( jstor )
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Dissertations, Academic -- English -- UF
English thesis Ph. D
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Thesis - University of Florida.
Bibliography:
Bibliography: leaves 212-216.
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Manuscript copy.
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Vita.

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Copyright [name of dissertation author]. Permission granted to the University of Florida to digitize, archive and distribute this item for non-profit research and educational purposes. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions requires permission of the copyright holder.
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MORAL VISION IN THE DRAMA

OF THOMAS OTWAY










By

JOHN DAVID WALKER


A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THIE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF
THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE
DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY












UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA

June, 1967










































UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
3Illllll! 1lllll262 08552 4071
3 1262 08552 4071














PRf"ACE


What is known about Thomas Otway extends but a short distance

beyond his artistic achievements. Records of his life are sparse, and

other than his date and place of birth (3 March, 1652, Milland in the

parish of Trotton, Sussex); his matriculation at Winchester College

(1668) and Oxford (1669); his military service in Flanders (1678); and

his death (14 April, 1685), little else has been uncovered. Scholars,

however, have taken Otway's The Poet's Complaint of his Muse (1680) as

being autobiographical, and without any objective sources to corrobo-

rate the "facts" of the poem, have "constructed" from it a biography,

disregarding the transformation which may occur to a poet's history when

subjected to the pressures of an artistic mold.2

Though there are no extant manuscripts written by Otway, biograph-

ers have assumed that six letters published in 1697 in a volume entitled

Familiar Letters b.y the Earl of Rochester, And several other Persons of

Honour and Quality and "signed" with Otway's name are genuine. The

letters bear no superscription, yet biographers uncritically have

accepted a statement made in 1713 by the original publishers of the




1See J. C. Ghosh, The Works of Thomas Otway (Oxford, 1932), I, 6-29.
All quotations from Otway's works are taken from this edition.
2The practice is coomon to all who have commented on Otway's life.
See particularly Roawell Gray Ham, Otway And Lee: Biography from a
Baroque Age (New Haven, 1931).







"letters" that they were addressed to Mrs. Barry.3 Since they were

impassioned love letters, there was thus concocted a story of Otway's

"pathetic" and "unrealized" passion for the actress, which in turn was

read into Otway's tragedies. Bonamy Dobrde, for instance, referring to

the "letters," declares that Mrs. Barry "kept the unfortunate Otway in

a state of suspense which drove him to distraction. Thin was the

central experience which determined his outlook and his mentality; it

made him the poet he was, though in destroying the man it may have

stifled a still greater poet. . A victim of unrequited love, he

palpably relied upon the expression of the tortures of love for his most

poignant scenes." 4 Roswell Ham goes even further: "[Otway's] plays

are unusually distinct: the hero, forever the man Otway; the heroine,

the transfigured image of the woman he loved." 5 Such is the legend

that has grown from mere supposition and unfounded rumor, and that has

biased generations of readers who find in Otway's tragedies only the

mirror of "poor Otway's" hopeless love.

Until more facts about Otway's life history are discovered, any

biographical approach to his writing is hazardous and misleading. It is

equally hazardous to read Otway's tragedies in the light of the



3See Ghosh, I, 13-14. In fact, the "statement" by the original
publishers is made in an advertisement at the end of volume I of
Nathaniel Lee's works (1713) and repeated in the 1734 edition of his
works:
Familiar Letters, writ by John late Earl of Rochester,
to the honourable Henry Savile, Esqr.; and other
Persons of Honour and Quality: With Love-Letters by
the Ingenious Mr. Thomas Otway, to that excellent
Actress Mrs. Barry.
4Restoration Tragedy (Oxford, 1929), pp. 139-140.
5Otway and Lee, p. 85.








playhouse. As Aline Mackenzie Taylor points out, an interpretation of

Castalio as "ineffectual," or of Jaffeir as "effeminate," "cowardly,"

"indulgent," or of Pierre as an "intrepid" villain is more often than

not the effect produced by the acting of Betterton, Charles Kemble,

George Frederick Cook, or John Philip Kemble--not the effect produced

from a close reading of the plays. Yet even Taylor is unwilling to

rely solely on the text for understanding Otway's meaning, attempting

to mediate between the text and actors' interpretations. Her inclina-

tion, however, is towards the stage: "for Otway perhaps more than for

other dramatists of equal caliber is it true that the reality of his

plays lies not in the printed text, but in 'the soul of lively action'--

in the actors who bodied forth his characters on the stage."7 Yet

Dryden's estimate of where the "reality" of a play lies takes us away

from the playhouse and into the text; in his Dedication to The Spanish

Friar (1681), he writes, "as it is my ambition to please my audience, so

it is my ambition to be read: that I am sure is the more lasting and

the nobler design: for the propriety of thoughts and words, which are

the hidden beauties of a play are but confusedly judged in the vehemence

of action: all things are there beheld, as in a hasty motion, where the

objects only glide before the eye, and disappear." 8

Dryden's premise that the ultimate meaning of a play lies in its

text and not its staging underlies the kind of analysis of Otway's




6Next to Shakespeare: Otway's Venice Preserv'd and The Orphan and
Their History on the London Stage (Durham, 1950), pp. 6-7.
7Ibid., p. 7.
8The Works of John Dryden, ed. Walter Scott and George Saintsbury
(Edinburgh, 1883), VI, 408-409.








tragedies which I attempt in this critical study. I have not hesitated

to take from Otway's intellectual milieu that which casts light on the

meaning of his drama, but primarily the text of his plays is the central

concern. And as one would expect in a dramatic career that lasted only

eight years, it becomes increasingly apparent that a central theme

occupied Otway'a artistic endeavors, a theme which gives coherence and

unity to his tragic vision. Briefly stated, the theme is the paradox of1-

man's nature. At first, the theme is expressed in terms of dualities

which oppose one another within man and which pull him in opposite

directions. Later, in The Orphan and, particularly, in Venice Preserv'd,

the dualities are imaged as alloys which both bless and damn each human

being. In a very real- sense, Otway's theme of man's paradoxical nature

is akin to the medieval vision of man as the nodal point of creation, in

whom the animal and the angelic meet. But seldom have writers before or

after Otway delineated, with such telling effect, the results upon man's

existence of a nature which, like a whipsaw, pulls him between two dif-

ferent worlds.


I am grateful to my typists, Marion Hanscom and, especially, Althea

Benjamin, who produced the final typescript of the dissertation. I wish

also to acknowledge a large debt to Robert Kalmey, John Fischer, and

Earl Ramsey, whose commitment to the immense statements neo-classical

literature makes acts as a spur to my own efforts. Particularly I wish

to thank John Fischer for helping in a variety of ways to complete the

necessary forms in applying for the degree. My committee, who read this

dissertation at various stages of its development, offered valuable

counsel. But the debt which looms greater than all others is that which







I owe Aubrey Williams, who directed the dissertation and who urged at

every stage of its writing a more precise and thoughtful statement. And

in teaching the scholar's craft, like Pope, he also nurtures the man

within the critic, and for that I a# grateful. Finally, after all the

"Years following Years," there still is None, and for that too I am

grateful.















TABLE OF CONTENTS


CHAPTER I .................................................... 1

CHAPTER II ................................................... 26

CHAPTER III .................................................. 76

CHAPTER IV ................................................... 115

CHAPTER V .................................................... 158

LIST OF WORKS CITED .......................................... 212














CHAPTER I


Thomas Otway's first play, an heroic tragedy entitled Alcibiades,

was staged at the Duke's Theater, apparently in late September, 1675.1

Unfavorably criticized at its first performance, ignored by later

scholars, the play was not a particularly auspicious start to a

dramatic career which, though spanning only eight years, was to place

Otway among the foremost of English dramatists.2 Yet if one may judge

by the inscription from Horace on the play's title page Laudetur ab

his Culpetur ab illis -3 the initial critical response of the Restora-

tion audience was at least mixed. Otway in fact claimed in the Preface

to his second play, Don Carlos, that against "the objections some

people may make" about Alcibiades, he was "satisfy'd" that he "had the

greatest party of men of wit and sense on [his] side," a party which

included the Earl of Rochester, "the King, and his Royal Highness."

In the same Preface, Otway implies that the objection which some





J. C. Ghosh, ed. The Works of Thomas Otway (Oxford, 1932), I, 39.
See The London Stage, 1660-1800, ed. William Van Lennep (Carbondale,
1965), I, pt. I, 239.
20tway's last play, The Atheist, was acted not later than July, 1683
(The London Stage, I, 320). Ghosh describes Alcibiades as a poor
example of heroic drama, bearing "every trace of the immature hand"
(I, 39); Edmund Gosse dismisses it as a "mawkish piece of rhyming rant"
(Leaves and Fruit (London, 1927), p. 97).
3Satires, Bk. 1, ii, 1. 11.
4Ghosh, I, 173-174.








in his audience levelled at the play was aimed at his nonhistorical

characterization of an historical person: "...I found my self Father of

a Dramatique birth, which I called Alcibiades; but I might without

offence to any person in the Play, as well have called it Nebuchadnezzar.

for my Hero, to do him right, was none of that squeamish Gentleman I

make him .... This I publish to Antedate the objections some people may

make against that Play, who have been (and much good may it do 'em) very

severe, as they think, upon this."5 Certainly the play's hero bears

little resemblance to the Alcibiades of history. Briefly, Otway's hero

is an Athenian general who, having profaned the shrine of the Almighty

Thunderer, is condemned by the senate and forced to withdraw from Athens,

leaving behind his mistress, Timandra, and his sister, Draxilla. Join-

ing the Spartan army encamped near Athens, he becomes their general,

displacing Tissaphernes and incurring thereby his hatred. After

Alcibiades has left Athens, Timandra, fearful that he has found another

love, becomes jealous, and with Draxilla journeys to the Spartan camp.

There, reconciled with him, they are married. But their happiness is

short-lived, for Tissaphernes plots against Alcibiades, and the Spartan

Queen, enamoured with Alcibiades, murders the king and Timandra, believ-

ing that with their deaths he will marry her. But faced with the loss

of his wife, Alcibiades kills himself. By the play's end, both

Tissaphernes and the Queen have been brought to justice.

Otway's witty acknowledgment that his hero is unlike the historical

Alcibiades, that in fact the play could be called Nebuchadnezzar "with-

out offence to any person in the Play," may act as an oblique reminder


5Ibid., p. 173.








for his critics of the distinction Aristotle makes between poetry and

history. In the Poetics, Aristotle states that history describes what

has been, what, for example, "Alcibiades did or had done to him"; poetry,

on the other hand, describes what might be,' and "though it affixes

proper names to the characters," its aim is not historical accuracy, but

the universal truth of "what such or such a kind of man will probably or

necessarily say or do...." Aristotle insists further that although

tragedians tend to cling to historical names, they should not "aim at a

rigid adherence to the traditional stories on'which tragedies are

based." Otway does incorporate into his plot certain historical inci-

dents from the life of Alcibiades, such as his disfiguring the images of

deity, his joining Sparta in a war against Athens, and his involvement

with the Spartan Queen. 7 But his hero, in accord with Aristotle's

advice, is as remote from the historical Alcibiades as is Nebuchadnezzar,

and it seems surprising that part of his Restoration audience failed to

recognize the poetic validity of the fictional character of the play's

Alcibiades.

Perhaps Otway's own failure in artistic execution may account for

the mixed reception the Restoration accorded his play. For no matter

how sympathetic a reader may be towards Otway's first drama, he still

must recognize that the play is sometimes awkward in its versification

and plot. Otway does not seem at ease, at least in this play, with the

heroic couplet. On at least six occasions, he substitutes quatrains,




6 b
Aristotle, De Poetica, 1451 tr. Ingram Bywater, in The Works of
Aristotle, ed. W. D. Ross, vol. XI (Oxford, n.d.).
7See Plutarch's Life of Alcibiades, Otway's probable historical
source (Ghosh, I, 39).







8
rhyming a b a b or a b b a; and his rhymes are sometimes trivial,

as in Theramnes' speech, "Stay kind Polyndus here /Whilst I go pay my

just devotion there" (I, 87-88). As for the plot, the love relation-

ship between Draxilla and Patroclus seems awkwardly handled: introduced

in Act III, evidently to parallel the relationship between Alcibiades

and Timandra, it is almost immediately dropped, only to re-emerge

indirectly at the end of the play. But the play's awkwardness, though

it cannot be overlooked, may at least be attributed to the unsureness of

the poet's first dramatic efforts. Otway even admits, rather ruefully,

to the play's haphazard conception and gestation. In the Preface to

Don Carlos., he writes:


I must confess I had often a Tittillation to Poetry,
but never durst venture on my Muse, till I got her
into a Corner in the Country, and then like a bashful
young Lover when I had her private I had Courage to
fumble, but never thought she would have product any
thing, till at last I know not how, e're I was aware,
I found my self Father of a Dramatique birth, which
I called Alcibiades....


The offspring may indeed be somewhat awkward, but it is not devoid of

grace. As Malcolm Elwin says of the play, "The ideas are good but the

execution indifferent." 0 It is with the ideas expressed in the play

that we are here primarily concerned.









8See I, 31-34, 184-187; II, 173-176; III, 127-130; IV, 244-247;
V, 7-14 (a b a b c d c d).
9Ghoah, I, 173.
10Handbook to Restoration Drama (Port Washington, N.Y., 1966), p. 133.












Alcibiades opens with a servant's revelation to Timandra, "Oh all

your hopes are crost, /The Gallant Afcibiades is lost" (I, 1-2); it ends

with Patroclus' lament, "My Friends, my Mistress, and my Father, lost! /

Never were growing hopes more sadly crost" (V, 530-531). Between these

opening and closing scenes, the remainder of the play supports and

amplifies, through a variety of related images, the idea that, at the

very moment of greatest expectation, human hopes, aims, and desires seem

to meet with reversals. Responding to the servant's remark, Timandra

tells Draxilla (I, 31-34):


I, who before had nothing in my Eyes,
But Glory and Love growing to delight,
Like Chymists waiting for their labours prize;
My hopes are dash't and ruin'd in their height.


The suggestion of rising ("growing") and falling ("dash't...in their

height") becomes, in other contexts of the play, an explicit image, con-

veying the notions of sudden reversals which occur to aspirations. In

Alcibiades' absence, for example, Theramnes pursues Timandra, who, for a

moment, seems receptive, but then rejects him. Theramnes tells her,

"Thus Madam Barb'rous Cruelty y'ave shown, /Raising me up only to throw

me down" (I, 123-124). The Spartan King tells Alcibiades (I, 231-234):


By your success th' Athenian greatness rose,

And from that height to which by you th' are grown,
'Tis your success alone must throw 'em down.


Though he defeats the Athenian army, Alcibiades is in turn defeated by

Tissaphernes and the Queen. Displaced by Alcibiades as general of







Sparta, Tissaphernes asks, "Must he at last tumble my Trophies down, /

And Revel in the Glorys I have won?" (I, 285-286), privately vowing, "I

fond Youth will try to work thy fall, / Though with my own I Crown thy

Funeral" (295-296). And pursued by the Queen, Alcibiades, "who but now

did fame and Conquest bring, /And added to the glories of a King," finds

his "Trophyes all thrown down agen, /By the base passions of a lustful

Queen" (IV, 5-8). Thus it seems that hopes, desires, aspirations, and

trophies of personal achievements grow to a certain height only to there

meet frustration and reversal.

In imagery other than that of rising and falling, the play also

suggests that passion may grow to such an excess that it endangers the

very goal towards which it labors. Draxilla seems to recognize this

possibility in explaining to Timandra why Alcibiades fled Athens

(I, 53-56):


Think you his great soul could with patience see
His rifl'd Honours heap'd on's Enemy;
And not his Rage have grown to that excess,
As must have ruin'd all your happiness?


And just as excessive rage may destroy what it intends to protect, even

so love may grow to such an excess that it breeds a destructive passion

that threatens the object of love. Timandra's love for Alcibiades

"breeds.. .Jealousie" (I, 26); and prompted by "Jealousy and Love," she

(along with Draxilla) follows him to the Spartan camp. But before find-

ing him, Timandra contemplates, with a sense of guilt, the strange

effect which her love has produced (II, 1-4):


What uncouth Roads Afflicted Lovers pass
How strange prepost'rous steps their Sorrows traced
Oh Alcibiades, if thou art just,
Forgive th' excess of Love that bred distrust.







Breeding jealous distrust, Timandra's excessive love attacks the very

object it desires, for Timandra sends Draxilla to "wound" (II, 48)

Alcibiades with a false story of her death, Instructing her to say that,

distraught by his absence, she "so wrought sorrow to that height, / That.

her soul grew too tender for the weight" (II, 82-83). Hearing the story,

Alcibiades tries to take his own life, driven unwittingly to do so by a

love which bred distrust.

This general theme that human hopes, aims, ambitions, and pas-

sions seem incapable of realizing, even for a'moment, perfect fulfill-

ment is dramatically developed in depth throughout the play. Before

demonstrating the theme in detail, however, we should be aware of the

moral basis upon which the theme rests. Replying to Timandra's lament

that her hopes are "ruin'd in their height," Draxilla places the frus-

tration of hope in the larger framework of divine order (I, 35-42):


Alas, we but with weak intelligence
Read Heaven's decrees, Th'are writ in Mystick sence;
For were they open lay'd to Mortal Eyes,
Men would be Gods, or they no Dieties.
Perhaps the wiser pow'rs thought fit this way
To give your growing happiness allay,
Lest should it in its high perfection come,
Your soul for the Reception might want roome.


Affirming the existence of a divine government incomprehensible to man,

Draxilla explains that God's ways seem mysterious because man is not

God, and being less than God, he is less than perfect in his natural

powers. His very nature thus renders him incapable of receiving the

"high perfection" of his hopes, passions, and ambitions. These may grow

to a certain height, but there, short of perfection, they inevitably

meet with frustration and reversal the "allays" divinely decreed

through the limitations of man's nature.








II


In the development of his theme, Otway is aware of the dilemma

man's less than perfect nature creates, for though the human being is

incapable of experiencing the perfect fulfillment of his desires, he

nevertheless has private interests (what he conceives to be his personal

good) which demand satisfaction. The dilemma becomes more intense by

virtue of those limits imposed, not simply by his nature, but by the

private good of others. Desires demand satisfaction, but complete

satisfaction is in every way limited. And to refuse to accept limits

results in personal disaster. Theramnes, for example, desires Timandra,

but this desire is frustrated by her love for Alcibiades. Refusing to

accept this limitation, he uses the opportunity provided by the senate's

condemning Alcibiades "To supplant him, and his own ends promote"

(I, 10). He is made general of Athens, but his principal aim is to

supplant Alcibiades in Timandra's arms. Timandra, however, rejects him,

recognizing his design (I, 130-134):


How poorly did you envy the esteem
I for his matchless Vertues had, and Him]
When finding him abandoned by the State,
You, to advance your interest, did create
New feuds; -
As if my Love were ballanc't by his Fate....


Theramnes confesses, "Thus my mistaking Policy out-run/My Fate; and I'm

by my own Plots undone" (I, 163-164). Desiring Timandra, failing to

accept the limits imposed upon the satisfaction of his desire by

Timandra's love for Alcibiades, he is finally "undone" by the imperfec-

tion of mortal vision, for though he plots to circumvent, at Alcibiades'

expense, the limits to his desire, he cannot foresee the outcome, and







his "mistaking Policy" circles back upon himself, bringing with it

greater frustration.

This episode between Theramnes and Timandra is a brief epitome of

the demands and limitations of private interest, as well as the conse-

quences incurred when, in an attempt to circumvent limitations at

another's expense, one employs plots, stratagems, or designs. The

consequences for Theramnes are, for the moment, no more serious than a

rebuff. But urged by his friend, Polyndus, to meet and defeat

Alcibiades in battle, he revives his hopes for success with Timandra,

exclaiming, "How can my aymes but in my wishes end" (I, 190). Pursuing

anew his private interest, he ultimately comes under the influence of

Tissaphernes, who engages him in a plot to murder Alcibiades and to rape

Timandra, a plot which once more turns back upon him, this time to

destroy him.

In a brief portrayal of the Athenian senate, Otway seems to empha-

size the essential impiety of plotting to destroy the good of another.

A democratic body, the senate appears generally to image "States" where

(as the Queen remarks) "those monstrous many-headed pow'rs/ Of private

interest public good devours" (III, 17-18). The Spartan King inter-

prets the senate's action in condemning Alcibiades as their devouring

the good of another in order to satisfy their own interests (I, 213-219)


Thou [Alcibiades] like a tow'ring Eagle soard'st above
That lower Orb in which they faintly move;
A flight too high for their dull souls to use,
Which prompted 'em that honour to abuse:
Thinking their baseness they might palliate,
With the dark Cloud of Policy and State.
But let them that black mistery pursue....


He apparently means that Alcibiades, because of the honors he had won,








soared above the senate, "A flight too high" for them to control and

thus "too high" for Alcibiades to be of use to the interests of the

senate. Their condemning him for having profaned the shrine of the

Almighty Thunderer becomes then a pretext, a "dark Cloud of Policy and

State," a "black mistery" to hide their real intention. The use of the

term "mistery" to describe a secret design, in this and other contexts

of the play,ll seems meant to recall the "Mystick" ways of providential

design (I, 36), suggesting that man's use of hidden schemes to advance

his personal good is a mimicry or impious parody of providence. The

ultimate consequence of the senate's policy, as in the case of Theramnes,

is the turning of that design upon themselves, for Alcibiades, whose

life the senate sought, survives to destroy them. Leading the Spartan

army against Athens, he unleashes his fury "Like thunder from a Cloud.../

On all his Enemies..." (III, 46). The Athenian army, defeated, is

scattered over the plain "Like the sad Ruins of a Hurricane" (III, 39).

The imagery of storm and thunder suggests a divine retribution hurled

against Athens by the Almighty Thunderer through the person Athens had

plotted to destroy.

Otway's most telling portrayal of the consequences which result

from an individual's plots and designs to satisfy the demands of an

unlimited private good may be best observed in the career of Tissaphernes

and the Queen. At one point in the play, Tissaphernes remarks, "Thus to

my aimes no limits I'l allow" (V, 28); and Otway emphasizes his refusal

to acknowledge limitations. For Tissaphernes, there is no moral

behavior imposed by conscience (III, 354-361):


11See III, 217; IV, 502, 372 ("Mystick Policy").








Conscience! a trick of State, found out by those
That wanted power to support their Laws;

That Soul's no Soul which to it self's a slave.
Who any thing for Conscience sake deny,
Do nothing else but give tNfmelvea the lye.


Nor does the fear of divine wrath act as a limitation to his aims.

Towards the end of the play, the ghost of Theramnes rises out of hell to

warn him of "sin": "Short time is here left for thee to remain. / 'Twere

fit that thy repentance soon begin, /For think what 'tis to live in end-

less pain" CV, 12-14). But Tissaphernes dismisses the warning as

merely "an odd speech," boasting that "Hell it self trembles at what I

do" (15-16).

Certainly Tissaphernes does not limit his private aims in consider-

ation of another's good. Reflecting upon his intent to destroy the King

and Alcibiades, he says (II, 210-215):


Let Cowards spirits start at Crueltie,
Remorse has still a stranger been to me.
I can look on their pains with the same eyes,
As Priests behold the falling Sacrifice.
Whilst they yell out the horror of their moans,
My heart shall dance to th' Musick of their groanes.


The King and Alcibiades are to be "sacrifices" in the attainment of his

own private ends. And the use of religious imagery in his speech may

suggest the impiety which seems implied in his refusal to admit limits

to his aims. Tissaphernes in fact aspires to divinity: "I'l act such

things whilst here I have abode, /Till my own Trophyes raise me to a

God" (V, 32-33). Like a god, he feels himself unlimited in the

potential satisfaction of his desires.

Yet his first attempt both to be revenged on Alcibiades for








displacing him as Spartan general, and to satisfy his ambition to be

king prefigures his own destruction. At the wedding ceremony of

Alcibiades and Timandra, he believes "ev'ry thing does as I'd wish com-

bine, /To give a happy end to my design" (II, 197-198). Having with

"great secresy and care" (202) poisoned the wine cup Alcibiades is to

offer the King, he plans that (206-209),


The poyson and his sudden death will seem
Fully a Trayterous design in him [Alcibiades].
Then must the Crown descend on me, and so
I feast my Rage, and my Ambition too.


But like Theramnes earlier, he is almost undone by his own plot. With h

gesture which seems a rich emblem of the way dark designs turn upon the

plotter to destroy him, the King, having received the cup from

Alcibiades, gives it to Tissaphernes as a mark of honor: "Come drink to

such a depth as may express / Thy wishes for their Joy, and Sparta's

happiness (II, 250-251). To save himself from his own evil,

Tissaphernes pretends faintness and drops the cup.

Tissaphernes' second attempt to realize his aims seems momentarily

more successful. He draws Theramnes (who has been captured in battle

and imprisoned) into a design against Timandra and Alcibiades

(III, 320-337). Although the scheme goes awry when Alcibiades kills

Theramnes, Tissaphernes quickly adapts the new circumstance to fit

another design: he employs murderers to kill Theramnes' guards and then

weaves a web of false evidence around Alcibiades, blaming him with the

murders on the pretext that Theramnes refused to join with him in a

conspiracy against the King (IV, 328-335; 380-390). The King believes

the story, and Alcibiades, along with Timandra who wishes to share his

fate, is imprisoned.







At this point, however, Tissaphernes' private interests come into

conflict with the Queen's. Burning with passion for Alcibiades

(II, 142-143), the Queen is determined to satisfy her desires, even

though, because of his respect for tmt King and his love for Timandra,

he has rejected her (IV, 110-117). Her response, however, to his

rejection is as simple as It is direct (IV, 136-138):


...why should I to fears and sorrows bend,
If only on their fate [Timandra's and the King's] my
hopes depend?
A Rival, and a King, I may remove....


To satisfy her desires, she does not balk at devouring the public good

of others. In fact, like Tissaphernes, she refuses to acknowledge any

limits to the fulfillment of her aims. She scorns the restraining

dignity of majesty, that "Ill-natur'd pageant mockery of fate"

(II, 144-145), which raises "us high" only "To barr us of the benefits

below" (147-148); she rejects the restraint of marriage vows, since

husbands "never reach the height of bliss, /But ignorantly with Loves

Magick play, /Till they raise Spirits they want pow'r to lay" (158-160);

she contemns "Honour" as "a very word; an empty name" (183). And in a

speech which reflects her desire for unlimited freedom, she also rejects

the restraint of conscience (185-189):


Give me the Soul that's large and unconfin'd;
Free as the Ayr, and boundless as the Wind:
Nature was then in her first excellence,
When undisturb'd with puny Conscience,
Mans Sacrifice was pleasure, his God, sence.


The Queen in fact equates herself with deity (II, 151-154):








Th' Almighty Pow'r of Heav'n came down from thence,
To tast the sweets of Am'rou's Excellence:
Why then should Princes that are Gods below,
Think that a sin which Heav'n is proud to do?


Like Tissaphernes, her refusal to recognize limits to her desires is

tantamount to an impious identifying of self with deity.

The King's imprisoning of Alcibiades causes the Queen to put into

motion a design of her own (IV, 543-546; 549):


So now or never must my love succeed,
Vainly weak King hast thou his doom decreed.
In this beginning of his fall th'ast shown
But the imperfect figure of thy own.

Timandra's and thy death is one design....


In the following scenes, Tissaphernes and the Queen plot with and

against each other, each moved by the unlimited demands of private

Interests. The Queen plans to "bait" Tissaphernes with a promise of the

Crown in exchange for his murdering the King (V, 37-41):


Then if complacent to my ends he prove,
In seeming to comply with his design,
I'l make him but an instrument to mine:
For when success me to my wishes calls,
I'l shake him off, and then unpropt he falls.


He seems complacent enough, but, knowing her passion for Alcibiades, is

aware that her"trap was dang'rously and subtly lay'd" (V, 90). As a

result he counterplots (98-101):


I'l cherish her in all that she pretends,
So make her ayms but covers to my ends.
For when I'm seated on the Spartan Throne,
Both her and all her Treasons I'l disown....


The Queen's design breeds Tissaphernes' counterplot, and these






conflicting plots seem emblematic not only of the self-destructiveness

of unlimited aims, but of the way evil seems to negate itself.

For Tissaphernes, the "short time," which the ghost of Theramnes

had said was left for repentance, istlmost gone. Agreeing to make the

King a "Sacrifice" for the Queen (V, 136), Tissaphernes finds the King

asleep. The Queen takes his crown and places it on Tissaphernes, but

whether by design or awe of majesty, he is unwilling to stab him.

Taking the'degger, the Queen kills the King, and, seemingly horrified,

Tissaphernes tells her he cannot "conceal" her deed. She falls to her

knees and cries "Treason" (V, 183); to quiet her he grabs the dagger, as

if to kill her. At that moment, however, the lords of Sparta enter, and

Tissaphernes finds himself in a circumstance similar to the one in which

he had placed Alcibiades. The crown on his head, dagger in hand, the

body of the King nearby, and the Queen pleading for her life form such a

web of circumstantial evidence that he is doomed, just as earlier he had

woven a web of false evidence around Alcibiades. The moment which

seemed the fulfillment of his private interests turns out to be the

moment of his destruction, and he is taken away to "Justice" (V, 220),

undone finally by his own plots.

The Queen's design, however, is not complete. With the King dead

and Tissaphernes doomed, she moves next to Timandra, forcing her to take

poison. As Timandra lies dying behind the curtain, Alcibiades, somehow

freed from prison (V, 378), enters the room, and the Queen informs him

that Tissaphernes killed both the King and Timandra. She then offers

herself and the crown to him, but for the second time he rejects her

(405-410). In anger, she pulls back the curtain to reveal Timandra,

boasting that she, not Tissaphernes, was the murderer. Timandra dies,







and Alcibiadea kills himself. Patroclus then enters, having been told

by the Queen's maid of all the Queen's plots against the King and

Timandra. Her dark designs now lie exposed to the light of justice

(V, 499-505), and, like Theramnes and Tiassaphernes, she is, at the

moment of her highest expectation, undone by her own "mistaking Policy."



III


Although Otway describes at greater length the inevitable conse-

quences which attend the unlimited pursuit of one's private desires, he

also suggests in the course of the play the means by which desires

should be limited. In addition to his implicit affirmation of those

limits Tissaphernes and the Queen reject (conscience, moral behavior,

piety), Otway focuses on love as being a force to restrain and govern

private desires. Theramnes declares that "Love...ne're clog'd his

Proselytes with Law" (III, 90), but elsewhere in the play Otway counters

this statement with images affirming love to be a regulating and govern-

ing force.

Draxilla, defending Alcibiades' withdrawalfrom Athens, suggests

that love may overrule the demands of other private interests. She

tells Timandra (I, 53-58):


Think you his great soul could with patience see
His rifl'd Honours heap'd on's Enemy;
And not his Rage have grown to that excess,
As must have ruin'd all your happiness?
But he withdrew, and like a Zealous Hermit did forgoe
Those little Toys, to gain a Heav'n in you.


His love for Timandra restrained Alcibiades from defending his "rifl'd

Honours," causing him to sacrifice "Those little Toys" kor a greater







happiness; the religious image of the lover as a "Zealous Hermit" who

sacrifices worldly honor for the sake of Heaven seems suggestive of more

than a courtly love convention, recalling a kind of love that, through

sacrificing worldly interests, laysaup treasure in heaven,

The conception of a kind of love that governs and restrains self-

interest is more fully imaged later in another speech Draxilla makes to

Timandra (II, 13-14; 19-22):


The serving you, my happiness secures,
I'm only something by my being yours;

Your Kindness gave my yielding spirits rest,
And rais'd me to a dwelling in your breast:
Then ought I not in all my soul resign,
To ease her griefs that kindly pitty'd mine?


She suggests that one's private interest ("happiness") is secured, not

through unlimited pursuit, but paradoxically through service to another,

through resigning self-interests in the charitable relief of another's

sorrow. And again in a seeming paradox, she implies that individual

worth is defined by surrender to the confining love of another in whom

one finds a spiritual habitation. It is because of this kind of love

that Patroclus cannot follow his father's evil counsel to murder Alcibi-

ades, since, as he tells his father, "In that I should prove a self-

murderer: /Peircing his Breast I stab m'own image there" (III, 223-224).

And it is this kind of self-effacing love that Tissaphernes rejects.

The King, upon retiring Tissaphernes from the army's leadership, tells

him (l, 250-253):


But if thy spacious soul thou canst confine,
Within this narrow Mansion of mine:
Be this the utmost of thy wishes bound,
Possess his grateful heart, whose head th'ast Crown'd.








Tissaphernes, however, allows no bounds or limits to his aims, and his

boundless pursuit of self-interest becomes ironically the sacrifice of

his own worth.

The paradox that one's interest is secured and defined by its self-

sacrifice is like the Christian paradox that to lose one's soul for the

sake of a self-sacrificing love is to find it, and nowhere in the play

is this paradox better expressed than in Draxilla's definition of love,

made in answer to Timandra's question "how grows Gratitude to that

degree, /To be afflicted thus, and weep for me?" (II, 25-26). Echoing

both the biblical injunction that one should love his enemies

(Math. 5:44) and St. John's statement that "Greater love hath no man

than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13),

Draxilla replies (28-36):


To our worst Enemies our Tears we owe.
Friendship to such a noble height should rise,
As their devotion does in Sacrifice,
Who think they shew a zeal remiss and small,
Except themselves as nobler Victims fall.
With as great courage could I for you dye,
And my Triumphant Soul to Heav'n should fly;
There I again my Friendship would renew,
And lay up chiefest joyes in store for you.


Priest and victim become one in the sacrifice which love demands; but

when the sacrifice is made, love transforms the fall of the victim into

the elevation of the priest. Here, in the sacrifice love requires, the

rising and falling that seem to afflict man's less than perfect nature

are harmonized into an ascent to heaven. Love thus offers the proper

way by which man may imitate deity and ascend to godhead, a way implied

in the chant spoken by the priests of Hymen during the marriage masque,

"by Love alone we see /On Earth the glorys of a Diety" (II, 226-227).







Rejecting the self-sacrifice that love demands, Tissaphernes, in con-

trast, makes others his sacrifice, delighting, like an unholy priest, in

the horrorr Of their moans" (II, 212-215); and choosing unlimited free-

dom, he seeks to achieve godhead by the acquisition of personal glory

(V, 31-32).

Another image reflecting the regulating control of love and the

proper imitation of deity appears in Timandra's speech to Alcibiades

following their decision to marry (II, 126-129):


And when our faithful happy hearts shall be
Nearer united by that sacred tye,
How in an endless Road of bliss we'l move,
Steering our motions by our perfect Lovel


Bound by love, they are guided in their motions by love; and in the

remainder of the speech, the image of planets moving in harmonious con-

junction (an image submerged in the above lines) becomes explicit

(132-139):


There we'll reflect o' th' various hopes and fears,

Of distress Lovers, whilst we'll kindly thence,
Through a strange mystical Intelligence,
Give 'em Redresses by our influence:
Till so by ours, -
Their full-grown Joyes receive a happy birth,
As Planets in their kind Conjunctions bless the Earth.


Made by love to be like planets in harmonious conjunction, they become

also like deity in the "strange mystical Intelligence" by which they

"influence" the growth of other lovers. It is this kind of controlling

love Alcibiades offers the Queen (IV, 124-131):


Our entwin'd Souls each other shall enjoy,
Tread vertues paths, and never loose their way.
But if one in his motion chance to err,








Strait regulate it by the other's sphear:
Till at the last,
When the short Zodiack of this life w'ave past;
With new imp't Zeal beyond the Stars wee'l fly,
There meet, and mingle to a Deity.


But considering herself already a god (II, 153) and desirous of

unlimited freedom, the Queen rejects the love which controls and

governs.

The dilemma, however, with which man is confronted because of his

less than perfect nature is complex, for while Otway'affirms that man's

attempt at the unlimited satisfaction of his private interests results

ultimately in defeat, he seems also to affirm that, whether limited or

unlimited, an individual's private good inevitably falls short of its

earthly goal. Timandra, for instance, knows "No greater aymes, nor more

Ambition" than "how...to obliege" Alcibiades (III, 123-124), yet she is

denied the satisfaction of even these limited desires, for, though no

torture can make her "forgo" her "love and interest" (V, 348), she is

deprived of life itself by the Queen. Alcibiades, whose interests lie

in serving the King and in loving Timandra, is falsely condemned by the

King as a traitor, and loses Timandra through her death. The question

asked by Alcibiades early in the play upon hearing the false story of

Timandra's death, seems pertinent, not only to its immediate context,

but to the play as a whole: "Ye Gods! Is't thus your Justice you dis-

pence, / To lay th' reward of Guilt on Innocence?" (II, 88-89). In

view of the loss which attends the private aims of both the guilty and

the innocent, the question demands an answer, one that reaches beyond

the simple, though basic truth that, not being gods, men are imperfect

and "with weak Intelligence /Read Heaven's decrees, Th'are writ in

Mystick sence...."







The answer lies partly in the fact that none of the principal

characters is guiltless. Alcibiades tacitly admits his own guilt in the

lines which immediately follow his questioning of divine justice, for he

refers to his impious overthrowing of the Almighty Thunderer's image

(II, 90-91) and assumes that Timandra's "death" is punishment for his

sacrilegious act (92-93). He also is indirectly responsible for the

Queen's design against the King and Timandra, for when the Queen reveals

to him her passion, Alcibiades employs a "stratagem" to free himself

from her and, at the same time, to protect his manhood (IV, 111-117):


For if these eyes had ne're Timandra known,
You only might have called my heart your own.
But whilst with her I enjoy love, and life,
And you remain the mighty Agis wife;
Know this is all I can in justice do,
I'm ready on your least commands, to shew
I live for her; but yet could dye for you.


The stratagem seems innocent enough, but it turns upon Alcibiades, for

it gives the Queen motive and incentive for murdering husband and rival

(IV, 136-139). And though Alcibiades assumes in his questioning of

divine justice that Timandra is innocent, her guilt lies in an excessive

love which bred a jealous distrust of him, a distrust which causes her

to use a vicious stratagem to test his fidelity. And the false story of

her death she has Draxilla tell Alcibiades succeeds in almost precipi-

tating his suicide (II, 93-98). At the end of the play, Timandra is

placed in a situation similar to the one in which she had placedAlcibi-

ades (just as Tissaphernes also finds himself in a situation like that

in which he had placed Alcibiades), for the Queen tempts Timandra either

tb relinquish her interest in Alcibiades, or to suffer death

CV, 308-309). And choosing death, Timandra indeed precipitates

\







Alcibiades' suicide as if earlier her false story prefigured what

becomes her punishment for using stratagem.

Yet it is clear that Alcibiades and Timandra are far less guilty

than either Theramnea, Tiasaphernes, or the Queen: and for this reason,

Otway's defense of divine justice is complex. The justice which heaven

dispenses in the play seems, for example, to make evil serve an ultimate

good. Tissaphernes' attempt to make his son, Patroclus, murder Alcibi-

ades has an effect different from that intended. Teaching his son the

mysteryy" of smiling "in's face we mean to wound" (III, 217-218), he

commands him to kill his friend. But Patroclus refuses, and Tissa-

phernes forces his son to choose between himself and Alcibiades: "Give

this unmanly Childish pitty o're, /Or ne're presume to call me Father

more" (250-251). Patroclus sacrifices his own interest for that of his

friend (252-255):


Then see how I resigned that interest here!
Thus all the bonds of duty canceled are.
Whilst such black horrours in your soul I see,
Y'are not my Father, but my enemy.


Patroclus then asks his father to sacrifice him instead of Alcibiades,

and Tissaphernes is forced to smooth over his design with a pious dis-

guise. He tells Patroclus, "Alas, in this disguise I did but try/ The

strength and vertue of thy constancy" (277-278), meaning ostensibly his

son's constancy toward his friend. Patroclus replies (284-287):


Such mystick wayes fate does our loves confirm,
As rooted Trees stand faster by a storm.
After this shock our friendship's more secure,
As Gold try'd in the fire comes forth more pure.


The mysteryy" Tissaphernes attempted to practice through Patroclus is







given a different effect by the "mystick wayes" of providence which

brings good out of evil. Instead of harming Alcibiades, Tissaphernes'

plot only succeeds in confirming more emphatically the love between his

son and Alcibiades. 'I

In a similar way, Timandra's false and vicious story, though it

nearly destroys Alcibiades, finally causes him to repent his impious act

against the Almighty Thunderer. For when he discovers that Timandra is

alive, his joy leads to repentance (II, 104-110):


This was the greatest bliss Heav'n had to give.
How rashly did my impious rage prophane
Your Goodnessl oh but wash away that stain,
Then I with Victims will your Altars load,
And have a Sacrifice for ev'ry God;
Till by those holy fires, this black offence
Be purg'd and purify'd to Innocence.


Timandra's selfish design serves ultimately to lead Alcibiades into

atonement with the divine good.

Probably the play's most profound vindication of divine justice

lies in heaven's transforming what seems, for the victims of human evil,

irrevocable loss into eternal gain. Timandra and Alcibiades die as a

result of the Queen's plotting, but these deaths are emblematically

portrayed, in the masque of spirits which appear to Timandra, as their

ultimate victories. While asleep in the tent which has become her

prison, Timandra sees in a vision a group of spirits who turn the

darkened prison into the "bright delightful Grove" of "Elizium"

(V, 267-269). The spirits then reveal a "glorious Temple" hovering in

the air in which are seated "Spirits of the happy." After informing her

that she and Alcibiades soon will take their places among the happy

(280-285), the spirits "bless her with a nearer view" of the temple






(294-295), which moves downward to enfoldthe tabernacle where she

sleeps. The masque prefigures the transformation which divine justice

brings to the darkness of human injustice; and the descent of the temple

to enfold the tabernacle seems richly emblematic of divine justice swal-

lowing up death in victory. And what is emblematically protrayed in

this masque is realized at the play's end when, as Timandra dies, her

soul finds an apotheosis. Alcibiades cries: "Yonder she Mounts,

tryumphant Spirit stay: / See where the Angels bear her Soul awayl"

(V, 474-475); he then follows her in death.

From yet another point of view, the gain derived from the seeming

loss that death causes is the exchanging of mortal imperfection for

immortal perfection; through death, desires which have been limited by a

mortal nature are now able to realize perfect fulfillment. Timandra

says as much in answer to the Queen's question, "Madam do you know what

'tie to dye?" (V, 328; 329-330; 337-340):


Yes, 'tis to lay these clogs our bodys by,
And be remov'd to blest eternity.

Death is a blessing, and a thing so far
Above that worst of all our frailties fear;
It claims our joy, since by it we put on
The top of happiness, perfection.


For those guided by a self-sacrificing love, imperfection ends with

death, for there the soul finds roomm" to receive the "high perfection"

of "growing happiness" (I, 40-42).

In other words, Alcibiades ultimately is Otway's attempt to

describe a theodicy, an attempt which seems necessary because, in

Otway's view, man's nature is so contradictory that no matter which way

a human being turns, he seems only to encounter defeat. In Alcibiades,





the contradiction between the demands of man's nature both to satisfy

his private interests and yet to limit that satisfaction forms a basis

* upon which Otway, in his later tragedies, structures his depiction of

opposing impulses in man's nature. And for this reason, if for no

other, Alcibiades is significant as the first stage in Otway's develop-

ment as a dramatic poet.














CHAPTER I1


Otway's second play, Don Carlos, Prince of Spain, acted at the

Duke's Theater in June, 1676, followed Alcibiades by less than a year,

and the great advance now displayed is made the more striking by the

shortness of the interval separating the two plays. His contemporaries

who nine months earlier had criticized him severely now acclaimed Don

Carlos as "the best Heroick Play that has been written of late...,"2

and critics of our own day rate the play among the finest of the age.

The nature of Otway's advance in Don Carlos may be indicated by two

important developments in dramatic technique, both of which may also

help to explain the attraction the play held for the Restoration

audience. Although still an heroic drama, Don Carlos signals.the be-

ginning of Otway's movement away from the declamatory and stylized

rhetoric of conventional heroic drama and towards the freer, more flexi-

ble rhetoric of his blank verse tragedies. Ghosh takes notice of this

development (though his comments reveal an undue bias against heroic

drama): "The language is free from the unnatural violence and inflation




1Ghosh, I, 39. cf. The London Stage, I, pt. 1, 245.
2Ghosh, I, 174. The quotation is from Otway's Preface to Don Carlos.
3Ghosh, i, 40; Montague Summers, ed., The Complete Works of Thomas
Otway CBloomsbury, 1926), I, 111; Elwin, p. 134. John Downes, prompter
to the Duke's Company, records in Roscius Anglicanus (1708) that Don
Carlos "lasted successively 10 days; it got more Money than any preced-
ing Modern Tragedy" (The London Stage I, pt. I, 245).

26







common to the heroic play .... For the first time in the history of

Restoration tragedy we hear the language of nature and passion instead

of vapid rhetoric.... In this respect, though acclaimed as the best

heroic tragedy of the day, it has reilly nothing of that genre except

the French origin and the rhymed verse, and Is essentially Elizabethan

in spirit."4 This stylistic development may well be part of the reason

for the play's warm reception, for by 1676 heroic drama was on the

wane. Dryden already had announced in the Prologue to Aureng-Zebe

(1675) that he had grown "weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme"; and

in 1677 he was to produce his blank verse tragedy, All for Love, marking

a return to Elizabethan models. In one sense, Otway's Don Carlos stands

"betwixt two ages cast": its form is still that of heroic drama, but

its rhetoric anticipates a return to the greater flexibility of blank

verse tragedy.

A second, less definable development may also be observed in Don

Carlos, an emergence of what one may call the particular grace of

Otway's tragedies. Otway describes its general "effect":


...I thank Heaven I am not yet so vain, but this
I may modestly boast of, which the Author of
the French Berenice has done before me in his
Preface to that Play, that it never fail'd to
draw Tears from the Eyes of the Auditors, I mean
those whose Souls were capable of so Noble a
pleasure....6


This effect which Otway claims Don Carlos had on its audience is in





4Ghosh, I, 40.
5The London Stage, I, pt. I, CXXIII.
6Gosh, I,,174.







accord with that which Restoration criticism held to be a principal aim

of tragedy. Dryden, for instance, declares in his "Defence of an Essay

of Dramatic Poesy" (1668): "It is true, that to imitate [nature] well

is a poet's work; but to affect the soul, and excite the passions, and,

above all, to move admiration (which is the delight of serious plays),

a bare imitation will not serve." Later, in the Dedication to Amboyna

(1673), Dryden defines "admiration" as "that noble passion, to which

poets raise their audience in highest subjects, and they have then

gained over them the greatest victory, when they are ravished into a

pleasure which is not to be expressed by words."8 Said more simply, one

effect which Restoration tragedy sought was to create the concernmentt"

of the audience by touching their passions, to "delight" by affecting

the soul.

No Restoration dramatist was more successful than Otway in achiev-

ing this desired aim, and his success in large measure is due to his

natural affinity for the pathetic mode in writing, an affinity which

becomes manifest for the first time in Don Carlos and achieves its

finest expression in Venice Preserv'd. To write pathetically, moreover,

is to describe the passions; in the Preface to Troilus and Cressida

(1679) Dryden implicitly identifies the art of describing the passions

with that of pathetic writing: "To describe these [the passions]

naturally, and to move them artfully, is one of the greatest commenda-

tions which can be given to a poet: to write pathetically, says

Longinus, cannot proceed but from a lofty genius. A poet must be born



7Sir Walter Scott and George Saintsbury, eda. The Works of
John Dryden (Edinburgh, 1882), II, 295.
8 Ibid., V, 5.







with this quality....'9 Dryden evidently thought that Otway possessed

this "quality" as much as any poet past or present. In his praise of

Otway after the latter's death Dryden declared: "Mr. Otway possessed

this part [the ability to describe tie passions] as thoroughly as any of

the ancients or moderns. I will not defend everything in his Venice

Preserv'd; but I must bear this testimony to his memory, that the pas-

sions are truly touched in it...nature is there, which is the greatest

beauty."10

But not only must a poet (to be successful) have a natural talent

for writing pathetically, he must also, according to Dryden, have "an

acquired knowledge of the passions, what they are in their own nature,

and by what springs they are to be moved"; and he must have judgment,

and skill "in the principles of moral philosophy."11 For though the aim

of tragedy is to excite the soul of the audience, it does so in order to

instruct, and of course it achieves this aim not by emotional appeal

alone, but by discovering and describing, as Sir William Davenant states,

"truth in the passions": "For wise Poets think it more worthy to seek

out truth in the Passions then to record the truth of Actions, and prac-

tise to describe Mankinde just as we are perswaded or guided by

instinct...."12 In other words, with deliberate and thoughtful care,

Restoration tragedians sought for meaning in the passions, and as a

result thought and feeling became peculiarly one in their dramas. Otway




9 Ibid., VI, 274.
0Ibid., XVII, 325-326.
Ibid., VI, 274-275.
12"Preface to Gondibert" (1650), in Critical Essays of the Seventeenth
Century, ed. J. E. Spingarn (Oxford, 1957), II, 3.
\\








particularly is successful in the marriage of the two in Don Carlos, and

the play marks his emergence as a mature dramatist.

With his greater flexibility of versification and with his more

mature comprehension of man's passions, Otway is better able in Don

Carlos than in Alcibiades to bring into sharp focus his vision of man's

contradictory nature. Am it amerges in the play, that vision is one in.

which disorder appears as part of man's estate, where, under the pres-

sure of man's essential "unkindness," degree, relationship, and happiness

are fragmented. Yet even though human nature seems inevitably affected

by disorders, a significant focus of the play is also on moral law.

Though moral law cannot restore order to human nature in this life,

Otway suggests in Don Carlos that law may guide man toward another world

where order, "kindness," and happiness are found.



I


As though in answer to Don John's question, "Why should dull Law

rule Nature, who first made /That Law, by which her self is now betray'd"

(II, 1-2), Otway argues implicitly and dramatically throughout Don

Carlos that law is necessary to impose order upon nature--specifically
13
human nature. At the same time, the various conceptions of human

nature, either explicitly held by the characters in Don Carlos or at

least inherent in their actions, indicate that any definition of man's




13The word "Nature" is, of course, capable of varied meanings: see
Arthur 0. Lovejoy and George Boas, Primitivism and Related Ideas in
Antiquity (Baltimore, 1935), pp. 12-13; also Lovejoy's essay, "Nature
as Aesthetic Norm," Essays in the History of Ideas (New York, 1960),
pp. 69-77. The focus of Don Carlos, as I understand'it, is on human
nature.







nature is at best uncertain. In the speech which follows his,question,

Don John, for example, describes his particular view of human nature

(II, 3-9):


E're Man's Corruptions made him wretched, he
Was born most nobel that was born most free:
Each of himself was Lord; and unconfin'd
Obey'd the dictates of his Godlike mind.
Law was an Innovation brought in since,
When Fools began to love Obedience,
And called their slavery Safety and defence.


According to his view, man's "true" nature is egotistically self-

sufficient, or "Godlike," though now defaced by a "fall" into the cor-

ruptions of social and moral law. Don John suggests that, in order to

regain his rightful nature, man must once again become lord of himself

and, unconfined by law, be free to do as he wills. His view of man's

nature, of course, is influenced by the fact of his illegitimacy, for

like Edmund in King Lear, whose address to Nature as his goddess is

recalled in Don John's soliloquy, he is a bastard and wishes to appeal

to a "natural" law that will justify the exercise of an egocentric

"freedom" beyond that prescribed by social law and obligation.

But "freedom" to Don John has special significance. In the scene

which follows Don John's account of man's "true" nature, Eboli, whom he

has been awaiting, enters, and he describes her as "the Bright Cyprian

Goddess" and himself as the "Warlike God she Loves" (II, 20; 22). His

reference to Venus and Mars, emblems here, perhaps, of voluptas, espe-

cially the epicurean deities, provides a "primitivistic" context in

which the freedom of Don John's "Godlike" nature receives a sexually

hedonistic emphasis. This freedom is then brought into contrast with

the restrictions of moral law. Eboli asks him (II, 30-32):







...if we could with happiest secresy
Enjoy these sweets; Oh whither shall we fly
T'Escape that sight whence we can nothing hidel


She alludes specifically to the Judeo-Christian belief that "The eyes of

the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good" (Proverbs

15:3), a belief which makes every transgression of moral law an open

sin, for "all things are naked and open unto the eyes of him with whom

we have to do" (Hebrews 4:13). In reply, Don John urges her to set

aside Christian moral law (with its concept of a judging lord) and to

turn to a religion whose god is more pleasing and whose doctrine is more

permissive (33-36).


Alas lay this Religion now Aside;
I'le show thee one more pleasant, that which Jove
Set forth to the old World, when from above
He came himself and taught his Mortals Love.


He makes even more explicit the sexual freedom of man's "true" nature,

once again in contrast with moral law, in his soliloquy following his

love-making with Eboli (III, 1-5):


How vainly would dull Moralists Impose
Limits on Love, whose Nature brooks no Laws:
Love is a God, and like a God should be
Inconstant: with unbounded liberty
Rove as he list.


In short, Don John's view of man's "true" nature is that held by

the libertine. More precisely, it is the view contained in the

"Epicurean" vein of libertine thought. Dale Underwood states that the

"hedonistic ethics with pleasure as the summum bonum was...a central

doctrine for the libertine.... Beyond that the individualistic and ego-

centric aspects of Epicurean ethics were congenial to the libertine....
\








There was, for example, the denial of an ordained and fixed order in

nature and consequently of any absolute justice and law. On these

grounds among others the libertine could dismiss orthodox morality as

mere custom." 14 Don John's conception of man's "ideal" condition,

where "Each of himself was Lord; and unconfin'd /Obey'd the dictates of

his Godlike mind," is essentially "individualistic and egocentric." And

since law is an "Innovation" upon the "ideal" condition, morality

becomes "mere custom" to be dispensed with at will. Without law, man

has the freedom to find in sexual promiscuity his summum bonum. Don

John says (III, 18-20):


How wretched then's the man who, though al6ne,
He thinks he's blest; yet as Confin'd to one,
Is but at best a pris'ner on a Throne.


Happiness, he asserts, lies in a sexual indulgence which remains uncon-

fined and inconstant.

Underwood also demonstrates that the libertine "was almost as pre-

occupied with the Fall of Man as was the orthodox Christian"; in Don

John's first speech (II, 1-9) there seems present an ironic parallel

between his and the Christian's view of man's fall From a "Godlike" and

individualistic nature, man has fallen, according to Don John, into a

communal form of life, demanding "Safety and defence," and thus into an

"' unnatural world of law and order." 16 As Underwood states, in

libertine thought "man had fallen from his original and primitive state




14Etherege and the Seventeenth-Century Comedy of Manners, Yale Studies
in English, vol. 135 (New Haven, 1957), p. 15.
15 Ibid., p.. 32.
16Ibid., p. 34.








of bliss by following the Ignis fatuus of what the orthodox called

'civilization'. If the libertine were to redeem his fall...he could do

so only by freedom from the artificial and coiruptive restrictions of

custom. 17 Man's "redemption," moreover, is provided in the pattern of

a god who descended, as Don John says, "and taught his Mortals Love."

Don John adds that "Love is a God,." and one recalls (rather hauntingly,

perhaps) that indeed Christian doctrine declares that "God is Love."

Libertine thought, however, was, at best, contradictory concerning

man's nature. For as Underwood says, "if the naturalism of the liber-

tine looked one way toward the primitivist's Golden Laws of Nature, it

looked another way toward the naturalism of Machiavelli and later of

Hobbes.... 18 In contrast with the "state of grace" which Don John's

"soft primitivism" envisioned as man's true condition, Otway places the

"state of war" implied by Gomez's view of nature. Gomez represents a

conception of human nature best described as Homo homini lupus, a con-
19
ception which reflects the "jungle world of Ii Principe" and the war-

ring "state" of nature described by Hobbes.20 Essentially this world is

one where human nature "is not endowed with any spark of natural reason,

or any natural gregariousness. Instead, it is natural to man to have an

unlimited desire for acquisition, and...self-advancement or self-

assertiveness is commensurate with self-preservation."'21 Though the





17Ibid.

18Ibid., p. 26.
19Hiram Haydn, The Counter-Renaissance (New York, 1960), p. 165.
20Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. Michael Oakeshott (Oxford, n.d.),
p. 82.
21Haydn, p. 442.







motives for Gomez's duplicity are varied--ambition (I, 114-116); self-

protection (I, 167-173); revenge (I, 197); love (I, 206)--each has its

origin in self-interest, thus reflecting the basic motivation of the

Machiavellian and Hobbeslian "natural& man.

But the conception of man as a wolf to man emerges principally

through the imagery Gomez employs to describe his activities. He tells

Eboli (I, 208-215):


...methinks I view from hence a King,
A Queen and Prince, three goodly Flowers spring,
Whilst on 'em like a subtle Bee I'l prey,
Till so their Strength and Vertue drawn away,
Unable to recover, each shall droop,
Grow pale and fading hang his Wither'd Top:
Then fraught with Thyme Triumphant back I'l come
And unlade all the previous sweets at home.


The bee traditionally has been an emblem of communal life, particularly

the communal life of a monarchy. Furthermore, the bee sipping on

various flowers, even noxious weeds, was an image of the way the good

man, especially the Christian humanist, could extract sweetness and

health out of a variety of earthly contexts.22 But in Gomez's use of

the image, the bee acquires sinister implications, for subtly and with

murderous intent, it saps the life of the flowers. Gomez, of course, is

anticipating his own subtle attack on the King, Queen, and Carlos, which

makes the image even more "unnatural," for bees "preying" on flowers

involves two different "kinds": but man preys upon his own kind. The




22A clear and concise use of the tradition appears in Jonathan Swift's
The Battle of the Books, in Gulliver's Travels and Other Writings, ed.
Louis A. Landa (Boston, 1960), pp. 366-367. See also John Lyly, Euphues
and his England, in English Reprints, ed. Edward Arber (London, 1869),
II, 262-265.







image of one kind of man as an "unnatural" animal is more explicit when

later Gomez says (II, 81-84):


Thus unaccompany'd I subtilly range
The Solitary paths of dark revenge:
The fearful Deer in herds to Coverts run,
Whilst Beasts of prey affect to Roam alone.


Granted that animals prey upon animals, the words "subtilly" and "dark

revenge" impart a sinister, "unnatural" emphasis to the image. One

recalls Rochester's description of the difference between the "natural"

animal and man:


Birds feed on Birds, Beasts on each other prey;
But savage Man alone, does Man betray.
Prest by Necessity, They kill for Food;
Man undoes Man, to do himself no good.
With Teeth, and Claws, by Nature arm'd They hunt
Nature's allowance, to supply their want:.
But Man with Smiles, Embraces, Friendships, Praise,
Inhumanely, his Fellows Life betrays,
With voluntary Pains, works his Distress;
Not through Necessity, but Wantoness.23


Solitary, subtle, lacking "any natural gregariousness," man becomes a

beast of prey in Gomez's view of human nature, a view not unlike that

considered by Hobbes in his description of the "state of nature" where

solitary men are "apt to invade, and destroy one another..." and

where force and guile become necessary virtues.25 By these means Gomez

"toils" (one of the operative terms of the play), that is, he sets traps





23John Hayward, ed., Collected Works of John Wilmot Earl of Rochester
(London, 1926), pp. 38-39. See also the discussion of man as an
"unnatural" animal in Lovejoy and Boas, pp. 20-22.
24Hobbes, p. 82.
25 bid., p. 83.






and snares for his fellow man. When confronted with this jungle world,

Posa reacts openly by condemning it to Gomez (III, 144-147):


Since what may bless the World we ought to prize,
I wish there were no publijk enemies.
No lurking Serpents poyson to dispence,
Nor Wolves to prey on noble Innocence.


But Gomez responds predictably by later catching Posa in a trap and

treacherously murdering him; honesty seems utterly defenseless before

that man who is a wolf to man.

Along with these two contradictory views of man's nature, held by

Don John and Gomez, Otway suggests still a third view in Eboli. Like

Don John, she is a libertine for whom pleasure is a principal good

(IV, 241-242); and like Gomez, she also is partially motivated by

revenge and political ambition, employing deviousness to gain her ends.

In this sense then Eboli may represent both the "epicurean" libertinism

of Don John (whose duplicity is only a means to sensual gratification)

and the Machiavellian-Hobbesian "naturalism" of Gomez. It is Eboli who

starts in motion the series of events which culminate in the deaths of

Carlos and the Queen, and her motives are a complex mixture of desire

for sexual satisfaction and for revenge. Sensing the King's jealousy,

she advises Gomez to increase it, ostensibly in order that Gomet may be

revenged for past wrongs. But in her soliloquy at the end of the first

act, she implies other motives (216-218):


In thy fond policy Blind fool go on,
And make what hast thou canst to be undone,
Whilst I have nobler business of my own.


By engaging Gomez in a design against the royal family, she provides a

screen to hide her own "nobler bus'nessi" Her motive, however, becomes







more complex, for she then describes what her "nobler business" is

(219-226):

Was I bred up in Greatness, have I been
Nurtured with glorious hope@ to be a Queeni
Made love my study, and with Practic'd Charms
Prepar'd my self to meet a Monarch's Arms;
At last to be Condemn'd to the Embrace
Of one, whom Nature made to her disgrace?
An old Imperfect feeble dotard, who
Can only tell Alasl what he would do?

Sensual pleasure is for Eboli a "nobler business" whose profit is polit-

ical power. But with Gomez, Eboli has neither pleasure nor political

profit; thus her motive in encouraging him to plot against the King is

to trap him in his own designs, to urge him "to make what hast thou

canst to be undone."

As she continues her soliloquy, her motive for encouraging Gomez

reveals yet another aspect (229-234):

No, though all hopes are in a husband dead,
Another path to happiness I'l tread,
Elsewhere find Joyes which I'm in him deny'd:
Yet while he can let the slave serve my pride.
Still I'l in pleasure live, In Glory shine:
The gallant Youthful Austria shall be mine.

The ambiguity in the first line is rather chilling, for in one sense

Eboli's hopes are in the death of her husband. But while he lives, she

still will seek her summum bonum of pleasure for political profit in

Don John, who is both virile and a prince. And alive Gomez may yet

"serve" her "pride," allowing her, in another sense, to shine "In

Glory." For the events Eboli has set in motion by her advice to Gomez

are also motivated by her own desire to revenge herself on the King and

Carlos. In Eboli's confession in the last act of the play, she tells the

King (V, 238-245):







When I perceiv'd my hopes of you were vain,
Led by my lust I practis'd all my Charms,
To gain the Prince Don Carlos to my Arms:
But there too cross't, I did the purpose change,
And pride made him [i.e., Gomez] my Engine for Revenge:
Taught him to raise your gpwing Jealousie.
Then my wild passion at this Prince [i.e., Don John] did fly...


Rejected by King and Prince, Eboli had employed Gomez to revenge her

pride.

Primarily, then, Eboli's soliloquy implies a nature in which the

libertine quest for pleasure is merged with Machiavellian ruthlessness

and self-advancement. And the ruthless, devious way in which she

attempts to gain her end indicates her relationship with the jungle

world of Gomez. Eboli in fact in another speech links sexual imagery

with imagery of a hunter's trap (II, 75-80):


Too easily I'le not my self resign,
E're I am his, I'le make him surely mine;
Draw him by subtle baits into the Trap,
Till so too far got in to make escape,
About him swiftly the soft snare I'le cast,
And when I have him there I'le hold him fast.


Pleasure is the tender trap in which Eboli snares her victim.

In Don John, Gomez, and Eboli, Otway thus describes one set of

natures man may assume. The effect of this description is to imply that

human nature is so multifarious as to be definable only in terms of each

individual. And in view of Don John's question, "Why should dull Law

rule Nature...," a further implication seems to be that law is necessary

to impose at least a semblance of order on the disorders of some kinds

of human nature.







II


Otway enriches his theme of disorder in human nature by embedding

deep within the grain of Do_ SL as the stain of "unnaturalnsas." This

thematic development may be observed in the play through a word pattern

involving the repetition of "unkind," "too kind," and "kind." At the

first of the play, Gomez advises Carlos (I, 87-88):


Let not a Fathers ills misguide your mind,
But be Obedient, though he's prov'd unkind.


In one sense, "unkind" may here be understood to mean "cruel." But

throughout the play, Otway implies that the King's cruelty is a mani-

festation of a diseased sexuality--an unnaturalnesss" which erupts in

cruel behavior. Commenting on the King's jealousy, the Queen says

(III, 204-208): I


His unjust doubts have soon found out the way,
To make their entry on our Marriage day:
For yet he has not with me known a night;
Perhaps his Tyranny is his delight.
And to such height his Cruelty is grown,
He'd Exercise it on his Queen and Son.


And in similar terms, Carlos tells the King (III, 314-316):


And since You take such Joy in Cruelties;
E're of my death the new delight begin,
Be pleas'd to hear how cruel You have been.


With apparent irony, the Queen suggests that since the King's "unjust

doubts" have been the only thing "To make" an "entry" on her "Marriage

day," the cause for his sexual indifference may be that "Tyranny,"

instead of love, "is his delight." Carlos also indicates that the King





41

finds "Joy in Cruelties," and the effect of these two speeches is the

implication that, for the King, cruelty is a sexual "delight."

Otway in fact seems to suggest that the King's cruelty achieves its

"climax" in the scene where the King visits the Queen as she is slowly

dying from the poison he has ordered given to her. The King seems

insistent that the Queen remain unaware that she is dying, for he orders

Eboli to administer the poison secretly, and then says (IV, 654-658):


...to prevent all sence
Of dying, tell her I've released the Prince,
And that e're Morning he'l attend her: I
In a disguise his presence will supply:
So Glut my rage, and smiling see her dye.


Wanting to be mistaken for his son, the King, upon arriving at the

Queen's room, once more instructs Eboli (V, 31-38):


Quickly then to her: say that Carlos here
Waits to confirm his happiness with her.
Go: that my vengeance I may finish quite,
'Twould be imperfect should I lose the sight.
But to contrive that I may not be known,
And she may still mistake me for my Son:
Remove all Lights but that which may suffice
To let her see me scorn her when she dies.


Horrible as it may seem, the King's desire to be disguised as his son,

the sexual innuendo of the phrase "confirm his happiness with her," the

darkened room, and the embrace he gives her when he enters (V, 119) all

seem to point towards a cruel and "unnatural" wish to have sexual inter-

course with the Queen as she lies dying. The Queen, however, sees

through the disguise, and the King is reduced to taunting her. In a

moment of anger, the Queen returns his taunts, and he exclaims, "I ne're

had pleasure with her till this Night" (V, 190). Though frustrated in

his main design, the King here seems to reach a "climax" of cruelty, and







the darkened room indeed becomes the scene of a perverse wedding night.

It is perhaps the only kind of wedding night the King is able to

experience, for with almost clinical awareness, Otway Implies a relation-

ship between the King's "unnatural" joy in cruelty and him impotency.

In the first scene of Act I, the King tells the Queen (48-51):


Virgins should only fears and blushes show,
But you must lay aside the Title now.
The Doctrine which I preach by Heav'n is good;
Ohl the Impetuous sallyes of my Blood!


But the hint of his impotency (contradicting his assertion of lust in

the above lines) is advanced in Henrietta's reply to the Queen's amaze-

ment at the King's "Gravity" (II, 187-192):


Alas, what can you from old age expect,
When frail uneasie men themselves neglect?
Some little warmth perhaps may be behind,
Though such as in extinguish fires you'l find:
Where some remains of heat the ashes hold,
Which (if for more you open) straight are cold.


A later assertion of his lust seems even more false than the first when,

following their momentary reconciliation, the King gives the Queen to

Eboli's care "Whilst I retiring hence, my self make fit / To wait for

Joyes, which are too fierce to meet" (III, 428-429). In Act V, these

hints culminate in Don John's explicit statement linking impotency with

cruelty (71; 73-76):


I know your Queen and Son y'have doom'd to die,

Why would you cut a sure Succession off,
At which your Friends must grieve, and Foes will laugh;
As if since Age has from you took away
Increase, you'd grow malicious and destroy?


With loss of virility the King's sexuality seems to turn to malicious

destruction.






Otway increases the scope of the King's "unnatural" sexuality by

suggesting that the King's suspicion of incest between Carlos and the

Queen is another "unnatural" response prompted by impotency. As the

Queen is dying, she tells the King (V, 154-157)1


Not your own Daughter could have lov'd you more:
Till Conucious of your Age my faith was blam'd,
And I a lewd Adulteress proclaimed;
Accus'd of foulest Incest with your Son....


One is tempted to read the first verse as a taunt which the Queen,

scornful of the King's fixation on incest, throws at him, but the last

verses seem more clearly to indicate that the King's consciousness of

his age (i.e., his impotency) motivated his charge of adultery and

incest against Carlos and the Queen. By recalling Gomez's advice to

Carlos ("Let not a Fathers ills misguide your mind, / But be Obedient,

though he's prov'd unkind") which associates the King's "unkindness"

with a disease, the relationship between the King's impotency and his

charge of incest may be more readily discernible. For Otway implies

that the King's suspicions of incest are part of a sexually diseased

imagination whose development is apparently related to impotency. After

Gomez has first hinted at the existence of a passion between Carlos and

the Queen, the King returns to him and begs (II, 127-133):


Quickly what past between 'em more declare.
How greedily my Soul to ruine flyes,
As he who in a Feavour burning lyes,
First of his Friends does for a drop implore,
Which tasted once, unable to give 'ore:
Knows 'tie his bane, yet still thirsts after more.
On then--


The "drop" which the fevered, diseased imagination of the King implores

is a description of love-tokens which may have passed between Carlos and





44


the Queen. The King in fact wants ocular proof of their incest. He

demands of Gomez (III, 71-72):


No, lead me where I may their Incest see.
Do: or by heav'n--do and I'le worship Theel


The tone is difficult to determine, compounded as it is of threat and

sexual excitement, but the implication of a perverted desire of the

imagination to witness their incest is present.

The King concludes this conversation with Gomez with a speech whose

imagery implicitly brings together the three aspects of his "unkindness":

cruelty, impotency, and a diseased imagination (III, 121-128):


No, no: I need not hear it o're again.
No repetitions--something must be done.
Now there's no ill I know that I would shun.
I'l fly, till them I've in their Incest found,
Full charged with rage and with my vengeance hot,
Like a Granado from a Cannon shot,
Which lights at last upon the Enemies ground,
Then breaking deals destruction all around.


The first three lines, being fully end-stopped and the first two being

divided internally by strong caesuras, suggest a tension within the King

which will erupt in cruelty. And that cruelty, joined with his desire

to find or "see" the Queen and Carlos in the act of incest, becomes the

"ill" he will not shun. Otway seems to imply through the phallic sug-

gestiveness in the image of a cannon whose projectile is the King, "full

charged with rage and with...vengeance hot," that the King's cruelty and

desire to witness their incest are expressions of an "unnatural" sexual-

ity.

One other possible sexual unnaturalnesss," again associated with

the King's impotency, should perhaps be mentioned. Otway may suggest







that the King is provedd unkind" in the sense that even his cruelty is

more effeminate than manly, for as the Queen is dying, she tells him

(V, 165-174):


Thus having Urg'd your Malice to the head,
You spightfully are Come to rail me dead.
Had I been man and had an impious Wife,
With speedy fury I'd have snatch'd her life:
Torn a broad passage open to her heart,
And there have ransack't each polluted part:
Triumph'd and laugh'd t'have seen the Iss'uing flood,
And Wantonly have bath'd my hands in blood.
That had out-done the low revenge You bring,
Much fitter for a Woman then a King.


The very act by which he destroys her is an emblem of his "unkindness"

in that it suggests the deed of a woman and not a man. And perhaps by

now it may be apparent that by relating the King's cruelty and sick

imagination to his impotency, Otway ultimately is hinting at an essen-

tial negativism of the evil which renders man "unkind."

The motif of sexual "unkindness," furthermore, reappears in con-

texts other than those involving the King's character. Otway provides a

hint that Gomez (who, like the King, is old and impotent (III, 168-169),

a man whom Eboli (I, 226) describes as one who "can only tell Alas! what

he would do") turns to the cruel entrapment of others as a sexual sub-

stitute for pleasing Eboli. When he tells Eboli, fcr instance, that,

like a bee, he will draw the "Strength and Vertue...away" from the King,

Queen, and Carlos, and "Then fraught with Thyme Triumphant" return "And

unlade all the previous sweets at home," there is at least the implica-

tion of a perverted sexuality in his "unkindness." This implication

particularly becomes apparent when one recalls the use of "sweets"

throughout the play to refer to sexual love: Eboli refers to the possi-

bility of adultery "if we could with happiest secresy /Enjoy these
\







sweets" (II, 30-31); and Don John replies that the nobly born "should

highest prize /Loves sweets" (43-44); the King laments that jealousy

poisons "all Loves sweets" (II, 114); Don John speaks of Eboli's love-

making as "Like too near sweets" (III, 12); and Carlos reminds the King

that once he acted as a father by helping Carlos find a wife, "Then

Loves dear sweets you to me would display" (III, 321). One of the

effects of this persistent word pattern is to illuminate the hint Otway

provides in Gomez's statement, for unable to discharge the sexual sweets

of love, Gomez will unlade the previouss sweets" of cruelty for Eboli.

Sexual "unkindness," however, is expressed as well by being "too

kind"--either extreme becomes a departure from the norm of "kind."

After Eboli sends Gomez to inflame the King's jealousy, she then makes

love with Don John. Gomez returns sooner than she expected, and, some-

what flustered, she upbraids him with his lack of attendance upon her.

He reminds her of the task she gave him, and she replies (II, 91-94):


'Tis true,
Your pardon, for I do remember now:
If I forgot, 'twas love had all my mind,
And 'tis no sin I hope to be too kind.


Though deliberately ambiguous, Eboli of course refers in the last two

verses to her love-making with Don John, hopeful that it has been "no

sin...to be too kind." But as if to underscore the "unkindness" of

Eboli's "too kind" encounter with Don John, Otway provides Gomez with

the ironic response (95): "How.happy am I in a faithful Wife!" To be

"too kind" (as Eboli has been) destroys the "kindnesE." of marriage. The

King also employs the term "too kind" to imply the Queen's "unkindness"

when he criticizes the Queen's friendship with Carlos (II, 145-148):







True, she may show promiscuous blessings down
On slaves that gape for what falls from a Crown.
But when too kindly she his brightness sees,
It robs my Lustre to add more to his....


To be "too kind" sexually is to be pkomlseuous and thus "unkind" to the

marriage relationship.

The theme of "unkindness," permeating the play, has been described

thus far as primarily sexual. But it also appears in Don Carlos in the

sense of a breakdown in family relationships. Gomez's warning to Carlos

to be "Obedient," though the King has "prov'd unkind," may be understood

as referring to the collapse of the "kindness" binding father and son.

Having been robbed by his father of his bride-to-be, Carlos laments, "A

cruel Father thus destroys his Son" (I, 78). And as the King's jealousy

grows, Posa warns Carlos and the Queen, "The King, the King your Father's

jealous grown; /Forgetting her, his Queen, or you his Son" (III, 194-195).

In the confrontation which follows between Carlos, the Queen, and the

King, Carlos attempts to address the King, "Father, if I may dare to

call you so, / Since now I doubt if I'm your Son or no" (III, 309-310),

but the King replies, "Will then that Monster dare to speak again?"

(312). The suggestion is that, at least for the King, "kindness" has

collapsed and son has become "Monster." The loss of "kind" extends to.

include the King's relationship with the Queen, for when Gomez insinu-

ates that against the King's commands Carlos is visiting the Queen, the

King exclaims (IV, 300-302):


0 Woman! Monstrous WomanI
Did I for this into my breast receive
The promising repenting Fugitive?


And finally Carlos, his "heart" poisoned "with the Dishonours" done to







him (IV, 9-10), is brought to deny "kindness" (IV, 160-162):


Henceforth be ever curs't the name of Son:
Since I must be a Slave because I'm one.
Dutyl to whom? He's not my Father: no....


Carlos later will affirm the father-son relationship, but now, under the

pressure of the King's "unkindness," order, degree, and relationship

become fragmented for him.

Don John, however, at least feebly attempts to recognize familial

"kindness." He tells Carlos (IV, 137-142):


The King your Father is my Brother, true,
But I see more that's like my self in you.
Freeborn I am, and not on him depend:
Oblig'd to none but whom I call my Friend.
And if that Title you think fit to bear,
Accept the Confirmation of it here.


Carlos replies, "From you, to whom I'm by such Kindness ty'd, /The

secrets of my Soul I will not hide" (143-144). But even here centrif-

ugal forces tend to destroy kindness. The focus seems to shift for

Don John away from the more central relationship of brother to brother

(almost grudgingly admitted by him) to the more distant relationship of

uncle to nephew. But at the same time, Don John (in accord with his

bastardy) denies any obligation inherent in familial "kindness," shift-

ing it to the distant, self-determined "kindness" of friendship. The

ambiguousness of Carlos's reply makes it difficult to determine whether

Carlos is bound to Don John by the "kindness" of family or friendship;

perhaps he is bound by both, but again the focus seems to be on that of

friendship.

Yet on another occasion, and rather ironically in view of his

bastardy, Don John appears to affirm the obligations of family








relationship in the face of the King's attempt to dissipate or at least

obfuscate it. The King, trying to win Don John's approval of his inten-

tion to destroy the Queen and Carlos, tells him (V, 77-80):


...Thou my Brother art,
And in my blood I'm certain hast a part.
Onely the Justice of my Vengeance own,
Th' art Heir of Spain. and my adopted Son.


When a half-brother becomes an adopted son in exchange for the approval

of the murder of the natural son, familial kindnesss' seems emptied of

meaning or obligation. But Don John replies (81; 83-84; 87-88):


I must confess therein a Crown are charms,

But in my Nephew's wrong I must decline,
Since he must be extinguish't e're I shine.

Did you we're Love, or have you ever known
The mighty Value of so brave a Son?


Once again the central relationship between father and son has collapsed

and only in the peripheral relationship between uncle and nephew are

degree and order maintained. But even this distant relationship the

King dismisses with contempt, "I guess'd I should be treated thus

before; /I know it is thy Kindness, but no more" (89-90).

Yet even though Don John affirms the bonds of "kindness" with

Carlos, his egocentric view of man's nature causes him to contribute

unwittingly to Carlos's death, for it leads him into sexual promiscuity

with Eboli and thus into becoming part of her motivation in encouraging

Gomez against the King and Carlos. Thus the disorders which may afflict

human nature seem to make it difficult, if not impossible, 'to maintain

"kindness." And even those whose natures are not disturbed by inward

disorders often find themselves forced by the disorders of others into








dilemmas where "kindness" again seems impossible to maintain. The

King's foolish marriage to the Queen creates for Carlos a situation

where he is pulled by opposing loyalties. But these contradictory

loyalties may perhaps be best illustrated by the situation which the

Queen finds imposed on her. If she is "kind" to the King as her husband,

she then must be "kind" to Carlos as her son and "unkind" to him as

lover; and if she is "kind" to Carlos as her lover to whom she once was

betrothed, she must be "unkind" to him as a son and to the King as her

husband. Indeed the world which Carlos and the Queen find themselves a

part of seems very like that John Donne described:


'Tis all in pieces, all cohaerence gone;
All just supply, and all Relation:
Prince, Subject, Father, Sonne, are things forgot,
For every man alone thinks he hath got
To be a Phoenix, and that there can bee
None of that kind, of which he is, but hee.
This is the worlds condition now.... 26





III


The disorders afflicting human nature extend in the play beyond

man's "unkindness," and the multifarious natures he assumes, to include

human reason as well. Throughout Don Carlos, the characters express

their uncertainty and unknowing:

For Heav'n my Lord, you know not what you do (1, 37)

Alas, my Lord, you know not with what fear / ...I come (II, 23)





26The First Anniversary, 11. 213-219, in Frank Manley, ed.,
John Donne: The First Anniversaries (Baltimore, 1963), pp. 73-74.







I know not what to grant (II, 266)

For half my miseries thou can't not know (II, 321)

I know not what I'd have thee do (III, 52)

I shiver all, and know no what I do (III, 375)

What shall we do? (III, 476)

Alas I'mtorn, and know not what to do (IV, 601).


And if human reason confronts the present with uncertainty, the future

also is uncertain, for Carlos's interpretation of his own intention to

join the rebels in Flanders undergoes alteration. At first he claims

that his intention is to "vindicate their Cause" and by force to gain a

Crown (IV, 21-32); but then he tells Don John that "for Flanders I

intend my way. /Where to th' insulting Rebels I'le give Law, / To keep my

self from wrongs, and them in awe" (IV, 148-150). And finally he tells

the King (IV, 509-516):


At last this only way I found, to flye
Your anger, and divert your Jealousie--
To go for Flanders, and be so remov'd
From all I ever honour'd, ever Lov'd.
There in your right, hoping I might compleat,
'Spight of my wrongs, some Action truly great.
Thus by my Faith and Sufferings to out-wear
Your hate, and shun that storm which threatened here.


The motivation for a future act (which in this instance is never com-

pleted) changes in a flux of uncertainty.

Much of the characters' uncertainty results from their having to

live in a world of appearances, where discrepancies exist between what

seems to be and what is. Gomez exploits this discrepancy for his own

gain, though finally he fails because he too is victimized by Eboli's

duplicity., Aware of the King's jealousy, Gomez increases it by simply

\







reporting to him what he has seen occurring between Carlos and the Queen,

knowing as he does so that the King will interpret these occurrences in

the light of his diseased jealousy. When the King tells him, "I would

not find my self at last deceiv'd," Gomez replies (III, 115; 118-119)1


Nor would I againstt your reason be believed;

Your Queen and Son may yet be innocent,
I know but what they did, not what they meant.


But as Gomez expects, the King replies, "Meant? what should looks and

sighs and pressings mean?" (120), for, as F. N. Coeffeteau states in

A Table of Humane Passions (1621), "jealousie makes bad Interpretations:'

being "like unto those counterfeit glasses, which never represent the
,27
true proportions....

Though jealousy leads the King to make bad interpretations of

appearances, Otway implies that the King is guilty of perhaps a greater

fault--intellectual pride. The absurdity of the King's intellectual

assertiveness throughout the play is obvious, and it is through this

absurdity that Otway suggests the fallibility of human reason. The King

warns Gomez that he will not endure being tortured by suspicions, and

the latter replies ironically (II, 168-171):


Good Heaven forbid that I should ever dare
To Question Virtue in a Queen so fair.
Though she her Eyes cast on her Glorious Sun,
Men oft see Treasures and yet covet none.


The King answers (172-175):






27tr. Edward Grimeston (London, 1621), p. 178.







Think not to blind me with dark Ironies,
The Truth diaguis'd in Obscure Contraries.
No, I will trace his windings; All her dark
And subtlest paths, Each little Action mark....


The intellectual arrogance in the King's reply is profound, for though

the pronouns "his" and "her" refer to Carlos and the Queen, syntacti-

cally they may also refer to "Truth." Thus the King implicitly reveals

his conviction that he can perceive "Truth" though it be hidden in "dark

Ironies" and "Obscure Contraries"; that he can "trace" and map its

windingg" and "dark...subtlest paths." In other words, appearances do

not present a barrier to the King's perception of true "reality." He

thinks himself able, as he tells Don John, to perceive the "truth" con-

cerning the Queen, "Oh Austria, that a form so outward bright, / Should

be within all dark and ugly night" (III, 35-36). And later he tells the

Queen (III, 258-261):


Holdl let me look! indeed y'are wondrous fair,
So on the out-side Sodoms Apples were.
And yet within, when open'd to the view,
Not half so dangerous, or so foul, as you.


Truth holds no mystery for the King: the without and within, appearance

and reality, yield their secrets to him in the pride of his reason.

The irony is obvious: a slave to the passion of jealousy, mis-

guided by his senses, the King is perhaps more blind than any other

character in the play. By means of the great distance separating what

is from what the King thinks exists, Otway implies the limited vision of

human reason which, directed by the senses, can often only perceive the

appearances of things, and, influenced by the passions, makes distorted

interpretations of appearances. The abundance of visual and auditory

images, especially references to the eyes and ears, implies throughout
\







the play,furthermore, that all any one knows is dependent upon the

senses. And the senses, as J. F. Sennault describes in The Use of

Passions (1649), are "bad masters":


When I consider the soul as a prisoner in the body,
I bewail her condition, and I wonder not if she so
oft takes falsehood for truth, because it entereth
by the gate of the senses; this divine Spirit is en-
closed in the body, not having any other cognizance
save what she borrowth either from the Eies or the
Eares thereof; and these two- senses which by nature
seem so particularly appropriated to knowledge are
such deceivers, as their devices are for the most
part but impostures .... They consider only the appear-
ances of things; they stop at accidents, their weakness
cannot penetrate into substances....They make us only
see the appearance of objects, and hide their truth
from us. We remain ignorant under these bad masters,
and our Imagination being informed but by their reports,
we can only conceive false opinion.... Hence it is that all
our knowledge is full of error, and that the truth is never
without falsehood, that our opinions are uncertain, and
that our Passions which obey them, are alwaies out of
order.28


Reason then is ultimately unable to pierce the dark ironies and obscure

contraries which hide the truth, and the consequence for the human being

is his uncertain sojourn in a world whose realities remain a mystery.

To pretend otherwise is to end in madness--as does the King.



IV


Otway suggests, furthermore, that human nature--indefinable,

various, "unkind," and severely limited in its perceptual powers--has

lost the awareness of what constitutes its final good. Don Carlos

begins with the King's assertion of happiness and ends with Don John's


28Tr. Henry Earle of Monmouth (London, 1649), pp. 75-76.







lament, "Despairl how vast a Triumph hast thou made?" (V, 500). And

between this beginning and end the characters act out their tragic

search for happiness in this life. jor Don John, happiness is synony-

mous with pleasure, but Otway describes pleasure as a transient,

illusory happiness at best, as evidenced by Don John's statement to

Eboli (XI, 44-49):


...Oh let me fly into those Eyes,
There's something in 'em leads my Soul astray,
As he who in a Negromancer's glass
Beholds his wish't for fortune by him pass,
Yet still With greedy Eyes--
Pursues the Vision as it glides away.


The libertine view of man's nature provides a happiness whose chief good

is as brief as it is illusive, for (as the King "prophetically" implies

in his madness) age, disease, and impotency ultimately destroy it

(V, 483-489):


Look to 'tl strange things I tell thee are designed.
Thou Austria shalt grow old, and in thy age
Doat, Doat, my Heroel oh a long gray Beard,
With Eyes distiling Rheum, and hollow Cheeks,
Will be such charms thou can't not want success:
But above all beware of Jealousie.
It was the dreadful Curse that ruin'd me.


His "prophecy" is his own painful awareness and acceptance--now too late

--of his age and impotency; it is "strange" and unacceptable only to the

man, like Don John, whose final good lies in physical pleasure.

Eboli takes "Another path to happiness" (I, 230), not altogether

different from that taken by Don John, but one whose end includes not

only pleasure but political advantage. And for Eboli, pleasure's

happiness is as illusive as it is for Don John: she tells Gomez,

"Whilst with your absence tortur'd, I in Vain/ Pant after joys I ne're
\








can hope to gain" (II, 87-88). Otway infuses her statement with degrees

of irony, and perhaps the most profound is the futility of the libertine'?

search for sexual happiness. Having found happiness with Don John, it

quickly slips away, for both of them, vanishing with the novelty af it.

first experiences. Eboli says of Don John (IV, 240; 244-247):


H'has reapt his Joys, and now he would be free,

Yet will I hold him; Tho' enjoyment tyres,
Though Love and Appetite be at the best;
He'll serve as common meats fill up a Feast;
And look like plenty though we never taste.


Political advantage and revenge, like pleasure, are also self-defeating,

for Eboli's "path to happiness" ends with her death at the hands of

Gomez and the public exposure of her self-interested motives. At that

point, Don John's first description of her as "the Bright Cyprian

Goddess" (II, 20) is stripped of ambiguity by his last description--

"vile prostitute" (V, 310). Eboli's path of pleasure for political

profit leads only to the "happiness" of the common whore.

The duplicity and Machiavellian craft by which Gomez. pursues his

happiness is just as self-defeating. When Eboli asks him why he loses

"the pleasure of this happy night" by toiling "with the dull business of

the State" (I, 175-178), Gomez replies (I, 179-183):


Only my fair one, how to make thee great:
Thou tak'st up all the business of my heart,
And only to it pleasures canst impart:
Say say, my Goddess, when shall I be blest?
It is an Age since I was happy last.


Impotent as Gomez is, happiness must lie elsewhere for him than in

sexual delight, and he implies that it lies in making Eboli great.

Eboli then prompts him to scheme against the royal family, declaring,








"Nay Sir, I'l try what mighty Love you show: /If you will make me great,

begin it now" (1, 205-206). And from that moment the business of his

heart becomes the Machiavellian attempt to make Eboli great and thus

make himself happy. But his business becomes a "toil" in which he him-

self is caught and destroyed. Discovering Eboli embracing Don John, he

says (IV, 443-445):


...Whilst I was busie grown
In others ruines, here I've met my own.
Ohl had I perish't e're 'twas understood.


Shortly afterwards he does perish at the hands of the King.

Still another path to a false happiness is taken by the King.

Quickly losing the seeming happiness he possesses at the first of the

play, he moves into the torments of jealousy. Happiness for the King

resides in a release from those torments, and that release he seeks

through the destruction of Carlos and the Queen. Poison having already

been given the Queen, the King tells Don John (V, 57-60):


...I'm all that can
Be counted miserable in a man:
But thou shalt see how calm anon I'le grow,
I'le be as happy and as gay as Thou.


But Don John replies (61-64):


No Sirl my happiness you cannot have,
Whilst to your abject passions thus a slave.
To know my ease you thoughts like mine must bring,
Be something less a man, and more a King.


The King, impotent and old, cannot know the libertine's happiness, but

the irony of course is that both he and the libertine are slaves to

.passion. Don John, however, may mean that the King, by being "a slave







to th' vilest that obey" and following "blindly...as they lead astray"

(V, 95; 97), has abdicated reason's rule over the passions; and that

only by reasserting his kingly control of himself will he be able to

show less human frailty. But the King misunderstands, and him r mponsa

indicates that he means to "grow" into Don John's kind of happiness by

becoming, not lord of himself as Don John would have, but a tyrant whose

jealous passions will utterly destroy "pleading Nature" and "Love"

(65-70)3


I'm growing so: 'Tis true that long I strove
With pleading Nature, combated with Love.
Those Witchcrafts that had bound my Soul so fast,
But now the Date of the Enchantment's past:
before my rage like ruined down they fall,
And I mount up true Monarch o're e'm all.


Through the cruel assertion of a tyrannic authority which reduces

"Nature" and "Love" to "ruines," the King mounts towards a happiness

which, like that of the others, is self-defeating, being purchased "at

so dear a rate" (IV, 667).

Otway seems to suggest in Don Carlos that true happiness is

unattainable by anyone in this life: political interest misguidess our

wills, /And with false happiness smooths o're our ills" (II, 195-196);

Fate seems to work against happiness;29 even law and moral order may

deny happiness (Carlos can find happiness only with the Queen, but moral

law, imposed by the Queen, keeps him at a distance.) He tells her

(II, 278-280):


29See III, 96; III, 452-456.







How difficult's the path to happiness!
Whilat up the Precipice we climb with pain,
One little slip throws us quite down again.


Their dilemma brings the Queen finally to lament (III, 469-473)1


Oh that we had never met,l
But in our distant Clymates still been freely
I might have heard of you, and you of me:
So towards happiness more safely mov'd;
And never been thus wretched, Yet have lov'd.


But Otway leaves the impression in Don Carlos that all pathways to hap-

piness in this world seem doomed to end in failure.

Otway, nevertheless, implies also that there is a path which, lead-

ing through death, ends in a restoration of happiness in another world.

By means of a pervasive image of happiness as a treasure man either

loses or has stolen from him,30 Otway perhaps recalls Christ's statement

that man should not lay up for himself treasures upon the earth, but

rather he should lay up treasures in heaven: "For where your treasure

is, there will your heart be also" (Matt. 6:19-21). The happiness which

Don John, Eboli, Gomez, and the King seek is a treasure of this world.

And so it is for Carlos, but the Queen, by imposing moral law on him,

forces him to remove his hope for treasure on earth to treasure in

heaven, where, as the Queen says, "without spot hereafter we above/May

meet when we shall come all soul all love" (II, 297-298). Though law

cannot provide happiness for man in this life, it may lead him to where

happiness can be achieved. Paradoxically, that time and place where

happiness may be found are in death, for only then do Carlos and the




30See 1, 12-13; 227-228; II, 170-171; 270-275; 311-314; III, 116-117;
321-322; 426-427; V, 200.








Queen find happiness in the anticipation of an imminent life together in

paradise.



V


The focus thus far in this analysis of Otway's Idramatic argument

for law as a necessary guide for human nature has been on the disorders

which may afflict individual human nature, the dilemmas such disorders

create for others, and on man's search to find his lost felicity, all of

which reveal the need for some ordering principle. It now remains to

describe Otway's more positive affirmation of law as that principle of

order. His affirmation, moreover, is twofold, encompassing the under-

lying principles of both the Christian and Hebraic views of moral law.

On the one hand, confronted by uncertainties and the limited scope of

human reason, Otway implies that man must walk by faith and not by sight.

By following what one may call a law of faith, furthermore, man may find

the path to true happiness. Defending the Queen, Carlos tells the King

(III, 363-365):


If to her Cause you do not credit give,
Fondly against your happiness you'll strive,
As some loose Heav'n because they won't believe.


And the King then tells the Queen (402-405):


Oh wert thou true how happy should I bel
Think'st Thou that I have Joy to part with thee?
No, all my Kingdom fot the bliss I'd give:
Nay though it were not so but to believe.


But his diseased jealousy makes the King unwilling to believe the virtue

of his Queen, and he loses the path to.happiness, his Queen, and heaven








itself, for his disbelief turns his world into a hell. He tells Don

John (V, 103-107):


...why, is there any Truth
In Women Vowes, or DiaobAient Youth?
I sooner would believe this World were Heav'n;
Where I have nought but Toyles and Torment met,
And never comfort yet to man was given....


Faith will not change the miseries of life, but it may provide a fore-

taste of the happiness of heaven: by his disbelief, the King is left

with only the "Toyles and Torment" that prefigure hell.

If faith is required in the midst of uncertainties, Otway also sug-

gests through the dilemma confronting Carlos and the Queen that moral

law is required to govern the disorders within human nature. Their

dilemma is one in which the principal conflict is between passionate,

individual desires and the moral law requiring honor to one's father

(Exodus 20:12) and forbidding incest (Lev. 18:8). In the latter, the

conflict is made more intense (and Otway's affirmation of law more

emphatic).because only by law are Carlos's desires "unnatural,"' since

only by law is the Queen related to him. The emphasis then is not on

the unnaturalnesss" of his desires, but rather upon the demand for

obedience to law.

As the play opens, Carlos reveals his rebelliousness towards

authority (I, 14-17):


Cursel What's obedience? a false Notion made
By Priests, who when they found old Cheats decay'd,
By such new Arts kept up declining Trade.
A Father ohl--


The imagery indicates that his rebelliousness is not only towards the

authority of the King, his father, but towaids moral authority
\.








itself.31 Similar imagery appears in Carlos's response to the advice

Gomez offers to "Let not a Fathers ills misguide your mind, / But be

Obedient, though he's prov'd unkind": Carlos replies, "Hence Cynick to

dull Slaves thy Morals teach, /f have no leisure now to hear thee

Preach" (I, 87-90). The obedience towards which Carlos moves throughout

the play may be described as a submissiveness both to parental and moral

authority.

This movement begins with the first, private interview Carlos has

with the Queen. She attempts to avoid him, bdt he stops her and asks

(II, 218-219):


Is Carlos sight ungrateful to you grown?
If 'tis, speak. In Obedience I'le retire.


When the Queen answers, "No, you may speak, but must advance no nigher"

(220), Carlos replies (221-226):


Must I then at that Awful distance sue,
As our forefathers were Compel'd to do
When they petitions made at that great Shrine,
Where none but the High Priest might enter in?
Let me approach; I've nothing for your Ear,
But what's so pure it might be Offer'd there.


The imagery on one level portrays the Queen as love's temple whose

sanctum sanctorum only the King (as High Priest) may enter. And on this

level, Carlos reveals his disregard for parental and legal authority.

But on another level the imagery of the Hebraic Temple suggests the

larger dimensions of Carlos's rebellion. One may recall that because of

the disorder within human nature occasioned by the Fall, God becomes a




31See Il, 41: "My Son! That Rebel both to Heav'n and mel"
\








hidden God, veiled in the obscurity of the holy of holies. The commnnon

worshipper's being forced to remain outside emblems the "Awful distance"

separating him from Deus absconditus, and it is only by ritual of law

that he is enabled to approach throdkh petitions what once the first man

beheld. Carlos wants (like Don John) to "lay this Religion now Aside"--

in effect to deny the Fall and law, implying that his nature is "pure"

and thus rightfully able to speak directly to his deity. The virtue of

the Queen, however, restrains him (245-248):


If e're you lov'd me you would this forbear;
It is a Language which I dare not hear:
My Heart and Faith become your Fathers right,
All other passions I must now forget.


They both have lost the "kindness" of lovers: she may no longer hear

his language of love, and he may not enter the shrine of love's temple.

And the implication is present--in contradiction to Don John's assertion

of man's "Godlike" nature--that man has lost his "kindness" with deity,

and only through obedience to law may the "Awful distance" be bridged.

The Queen, however, finds "That still at least I cannot be unkind"

(II, 267), and then proceeds to a statement of the only possible

"kindness" permissible within the "unkindness" her marriage to the King

imposes between her and Carlos. In response to Carlos's plea, "Let me

love on" (285), she replies (295-298):


Love then Brave Prince, whilst I'l thy Love admire,
Yet keep the Flame so pure, such chest desire,
That without spot hereafter we above
May meet when we shall come all soul all love.


Their profane love must image holy love, and in this sense the Queen

describes a type of caritas, the only "kindness" they may experience,








and one which may infuse restrictive moral law with a foretaste of that

love they may find when their "kindness" is restored in heaven.

But though the Queen may be an emblem of both human and divine law

(perhaps even grace), she herself is subject to the same temptations

that face Carlos. For while speaking to Carlos (as the stage directions

indicate), she "Gives her hand, which D. Carlos during all this speech

kisses eagerly." The stage effect thus emblems the conflicting demands

of desire and moral law which clash within Carlos and for the moment

within the Queen. Recognizing her danger, "Oh whither am I run astray"

(II, 299), she leaves. But Carlos is overcome, telling Posa, "I'm more

Impatient than before, /And have discovered Riches, make me mad" (311-

312). Posa tells him that "those Treasures are not to be had" and

advises that he "correct desires" which lead him "Beyond that duty which

becomes a Son": "The Brave may by themselves be happy made. /You to

your Father now must all resign" (313-318). Posa seems to counsel

Christian patience, which, according to Lactantius' Divine Institutes.

is a virtue that, by acquiescing to divine decrees, "recalls the dis-

turbed and wavering mind to its tranquility; it mitigates, it restores a

man to himself." 32 But Carlos replies (319-324):


But we're he rob'd me of her she was mine.

Make my self happy bid the damn'd do so;
Who in sad Flames, must be for ever tost,
Yet still in view of the lov'd Hea'vn th'ave lost.


His refusal to submit in lawful worship before the shrine he cannot





32The Ante Nicene Christian Library, eds. Alexander Roberts and
James Donaldson (Edinburg, 1867-1872), XXI, 347.
k








enter increases that "Awful distance" separating the obedient worshipper

from the holy of holies to the still more "Awful distance" separating

the damned in hell from heaven.

Yet guided by the Queen, Carloamoves closer to obedience. Having

urged to Carlos the necessity of submission and of a holy love, the

Queen next urges the need for hope. Informed of the King's jealous rage,

Carlos expresses a desire to die in her defense, but she replies

(III, 220-225):


Talk not of death, for that ev'n Cowards dare,
When their base fears compel e'm to despair.
Hope's ,the far nobler passion of the Mind,
'Fortune's a Mistriss that's with Caution kind,
Knows that the constant merit her alone;
They, who though she seem froward, yet court on.


Hope should stand between Carlos and despair, but Otway seems to suggest

in Don Carlos that hopes are fulfilled only in that world where man

exists "all soul all love." Through perseverance and constancy, man may

be led by Fortune to the place where the treasure of his desire may be

granted, but not in this life. Not until their deaths do Carlos and the

Queen recognize this truth. Yet Carlos replies, "To wretched minds thus

still some comfort gleames, /And Angels ease our griefs though but with

dreams" (226-227).

Carlos has now reached the point where, in defense of the Queen, he

confesses to the King his disobedience (III, 354-360):


I love the Queen, I have contest 'tis true:
Proud too to think I love her more than you;
Though she by Heav'n is clear--but I indeed
Have been unjust, and do deserve to bleed.
There were no lawless thoughts that I'did want,

Tho' I ne're yet found hopes to raise 'em on....








That his confession, however, is not a true submission is indicated by

the Queen: "No Sir, he through despair all this has said, /And owns

Offences which he never made" (370-371). Yet his movement towards

obedience is implicit. The scene ends with the reconciliation between

the King and Queen, and with Carlos's exile from the court. With this

exile and their reconciliation, any hope for his present poeeession of

the Queen is extinguished (515-518):


Thus long I wander'd in Loves crooked way,
By hope's deluding Meteor, led astray:
For e're I've half the dangerous desert crost,
The glimm'ring light's gone out, and I am lost.


Carlos now recognizes, if not accepts, the impossibility of fulfilling

his hope of love--that hope which is a false light. Relinquishing this

hope, Carlos is left with the alternatives of obedience through exile or

armed rebellion.

But whether Carlos leaves the court or not, he recognizes his loss.

Act IV begins with his resigned lament (1-6):


The next is the Apartment of the Queen;
In vain I try, I must not venture in.
Thus is it with the Souls of murder'd men;
Who to their Bodies would agen repair,
But finding that they cannot enter there,
Mourning and groaning wander in the Aire.


His refusal to enter her apartment may imply a growing acceptance of his

condition. But rebelliousness is yet present (7-10):


Rob'd of my Love, and as unjustly thrown
From all those hopes that promised me a Crown,
My heart, with the Dishonour's to me done,
Is poison'd....


And Carlos has Posa write to the Rebels in Flanders, intending at this
\








point an armed rebellion to gain the Crown. Yet this intention is only

momentary' (as we have seen) and his motives change as he draws nearer

true submission.

In another image, Carlos describes his loss and what now appears to

be hie acceptance of it. Eboli offers him her love, and Carlos, think-

ing she refers to the Queen's love, replies (IV, 51-54)t


No Madaml what's my due none e're can pay,
There stands that Angel Honour in the way
Watching his Charge with never sleeping eyes,
And stops my Entrance into Paradice.


The imagery on one level brings to mind lo, whom Zeus loved yet lost

through circumstance, and her guardian, the never-sleeping Argus.33

More clearly perhaps the imagery may recall the garden of Hesperides,
34
guarded over by the ever-watchful dragon. And on this level the Queen

is imaged as a lost lover and an earthly paradise which "Honour," the

imperative of moral law, prohibits Carlos from enjoying. On another

level, the imagery recalls the garden of Eden from which, Otway implies,

Carlos is exiled, a paradise where, because of man's disordered, fallen

nature, entrance is prohibited by an angel. Whatever else "Honour" may

mean, it serves both as a voice of law to govern fallen nature and as a

reminder of man's lose of Eden, the seat of his true nature.



33See Ovid, Metamorphoses, tr. Rolfe Humphries (Bloomington, 1958),
pp. 21-22.
34
In Shakespeare's Pericles, a play which also concerns incest, though
in a considerably different manner, Antiochus describes his daughter to
Pericles (I, i, 29-31):
Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,
With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
For death-like dragons here affright thee hard:
Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
Her countless glory, which desert must gain....








With this apparent resignation to his exile from his paradise,

Carloe, when once more pursued by the renewed rage of the King, accedes

to the Queen's request (IV, 379-383):


Yet then be kind; your angry Father's rage,
I know the least submission will asswage.
You're hot with Youth, He's cholerick with Age.
To him: and put a true obedience on;
Be humble, and express yourself a Son.


But when he kneels in submission before his father, the King disowns

him, casting doubt on the faithfulness of Carlos's mother, and Carlos

exclaims, "Submission, which way got it entrance here" (IV, 471). The

King then reveals the body of Posa, charging Carlos with treason, and

Carlos draws his sword in vengeance. But at this crucial moment Carlos

rejects armed rebellion and thus is left with the other alternative of

submission. Throwing away his sword, he recognizes the King as father:

"No: Tho' unjust, you are my Father still. /And from that Title must

your safety own" (488-489).

In the justification which Carlos then gives the King for intending

to go to Flanders, he reveals the beginning of his true obedience.

Admitting that, because of the'dishonor the King had done him, his "Duty

Long with Nature was at strife" (IV, 500-503), Carlos interprets his

intention to join the Rebels as an attempt to escape the King's anger

and jealousy and, at the same time, to complete "There in your right...

some Action truly great" (509-514). His intention then (at least in the

light now of Carlos's submission) was to confirm the'demands of "Duty"

or law over the demands of his rebellious nature. But the King in his

jealousy refuses his obedience, and Carlos is condemned to death. Once

more Carlos returns to the Queen to stand in opposition to his Father,








but the situation is somewhat different, for Carlos now opposes the

King, not through willful choice, but because the King's cruelty has

forced it upon him.

This obstacle of the King's jealousy and cruelty, however, is

removed for Carlos in the last act through Eboli's confession and the

King's realization that he has been misled. The scene is set in a

darkened room "With one dim Lamp that yields imperfect light" (V, 40)

where the Queen lies dying. The setting is a fit emblem for the limita-

.tions of human reason of which the King now becomes tragically aware.

Into this setting, Carlos is brought, having opened his own veins and

having been secretly poisoned by Gomez. He tells the King (348-350):


I come to take my farewell, e're I go
To that bright dwelling, where there is no room
For Blood, and where the Cruel never Come.


But the King has lost his cruelty, and when Carlos asks to be placed by

the Queen's side, the King, no longer jealous, leads him. Carlos says

(368-371):


Y'ave thus more kindness shown,
Then if y'ad Crown'd and plac't me on your Throne.
Methinks so highly happy I appear,
That I could pity you, to see You there....


The paradoxes involved are Otway's indication of the ultimate tragedy of

the human predicament. The King's return to "kindness" is met by the

ruins caused by his "unkindness"; Carlos finds happiness only when

dying. And finally his true act of obedience is made when it has become

too late (406-414):







I was a wicked Son, Indeed I was;
Rebel to Yours as well as Duties Laws.
By head-strong will too proud to be confined;
Scorn'd your Commands, and at your Joyes repin'd.
When to my love your Royal Claim was layd,
I should have born my Inj'ries and obeyd;
But I was hot, and would my right maintain,
Which you forgave; yet I rebell'd again,
And nought but death can now wash off the stain.


The human predicament, Otway seems to suggest, is that the limitations

and disorders of human nature are finally understood only through the

tragedies they cause.

Though law may not avert tragedy, Otway also implies that law may

lead to a life beyond tragedy. Carlos, guided by the Queen's virtue,

has progressed to within the boundaries of moral law and order, and

through their tragedies they both discover a greater life. The Queen

says (435-439):


From all my Injuries and all my fears,
From Jealousie Love's bane, the worst of Cares,
Thus I remove to find that stranger rest.
Carlos thy hand; support me on thy breast:
Within this minute how shall we be blest!


Death paradoxically becomes their marriage rite and the beginning of

their life together; Carlos replies (440-443):


Oh far above
What ever wishes fram'd, or hopes designed;
Thus where we go we shall the Angels find,
For ever pressing, and for ever kind.


In that place where they will become "all soul all love," happiness is

reached, hopes are fulfilled, and "kindness" for ever restored.







VI


Otway thus implicitly answers in Don Carlos the question, "Why

should dull Law rule Nature...." Arj if his answer centers primarily on

the disorders within man which need the ordering rule of law, perhaps it

is because Otway sees human nature as fallen from the state of its crea-

tion. The result of that fall, as Pascal states, is disorder: "Man

does not know in what rank to place himself. He has plainly gone astray,

and fallen from his true place without being able to find it again. He

seeks it anxiously and unsuccessfully everywhere in impenetrable dark-

ness" (427).35 Or as Otway describes it, man's disorder is imaged in

his "unkindness": he seeks his true nature, but only succeeds in assum-

ing multifarious, often contradictory, natures. And no matter what

nature he assumes, he carries with him always an essential "unkindness"

which serves only to discover the "impenetrable darkness" of his uncer-

tainty and the loss of his happiness.

If ever the human being is to return to his true nature, Otway sug-

gests that it must be by way of obedience to law. But since disorder

seems to be an almost inescapable condition of human life, Otway suggests

that law serves ultimately to instruct and guide man toward a time and

place beyond death where order is finally restored and man's true place

re-established. As man's guide and instructor, law may act, Otway

implies, as an agent of divine providence. When the King realizes his

injustice in destroying the Queen, he asks, "Heav'n where is now thy

sleeping providence, /That took so little care of Innocence?" (V, 288-289).




35Blaise Pascal, Pensees tr. W. F. Trotter (New York, 1941), p. 135.







But part of the King's blindness is his inability to perceive the work-

ing of providence in a world where he has met only "Toyles and Torment."

Otway, however, has shown throughout Don Carlos that providence has been

actively attempting to lead, not only Carlou end the Quesn, but also the

King through the appeal of moral law. But the King rejects the plea of

providence that he should submit to the law of faith, a plea uttered

through Carlos as he stands in defense of the Queen. Yet providence

pursues the King, incorporating the tragic results of his disbelief into

a design to bring him into an awareness of his infidelity. Tormenting

the dying Queen, the King asks, "How comes it that above such mercy

dwels, /To permit Sin, and make us Infidels?" (V, 143-144). Though his

question is an ironic and blasphemous attack on divine mercy, providence,

moved no longer by mercy but now by justice, is in effect guiding the

King toward a tragic recognition of his own infidelity. This design of

providence to bring the King into an awareness of his sin may be illumi-

nated by the following quotation, expressive of a Christian commonplace,

from The Heptameron of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre:


"I confess," replied Longarine, "that if the
word of God doth not show us by faith the leprosy
of infidelity that is hidden in our hearts, God
does us good service when we fall into some open
sin, by the which the secret plague becomes
clearly manifest. And happy are they whom faith
has so humbled that they have no need of making
trial of their sinful nature by its outward
effects.36




36tr. Arthur Machen (Philadelphia, n.d.), II, 25. cf. Saint Augustine,
Confessions, [VIII,vii], tr. F. J. Sheed (New York, 1943), p. 169: "And
You [God] set me there before my own face that I might see how vile I
was, how twisted and unclean and spotted and ulcerou. .... You were set-
ting me face to face with myself, forcing me upon my own sight, that I
might see my iniquity and loathe it."







Having rejected faith, the King is brought by the "outward effects" of

his infidelity into an awareness of his sin and into an acceptance of

faith, an acceptance, however, which now serves only to render him

self-condemned.

But providence has also been active, through the medium of law, in

leading Carlos and the Queen toward the happiness which their dilemma

renders impossible of attainment in this life. And while being led

herself by law, the Queen also serves a figurative purpose in the play

by becoming the human agent through whom providence guides Carlos into

obedience to law. "She is the Star that rules my Destiny" (IV, 530),

Carlos says, and in light of the implications Otway associates with the

star image in the play, one may say that providence rules Carlos's

destiny. The implications concerning the star image emerge ironically

through the King's speeches. Before giving in altogether to jealousy,

the King asks "...she's all divine: /Speak Friends, can Angels in per-

fection sin?"; Gomez replies, "Angels that shine above do oft bestow/

Their Influence on poor Mortals here below" (II, 139-142). The Queen

seems "divine," an Angel "in perfection," and Gomez says that as such

she is a star who bestows heaven's influence on "Mortals here below"-

a reference perhaps to the tradition that each star had its angel or was

an angel, and thus exerted influence in a kind of astrological provi-

dence. Later, the King tells the Queen (IV, 590-595):










37See C. S. Lewise The Discarded Image (Cambridge, 1964), pp. 115-116.
\







Th' art Woman, a true Copy of the first,
In whom the race of all Mankind was curst.
Your Sex by Beauty was to Heav'n ally'd;
But your great Lord the Devil taught you pride.
He too an Angel till he durst rebel;
And you are sure the Stars that with him fell.


The King's misinterpretation of the Queen leaves the impression that the

Queen may be, in her obedience to divine law, an angelic star yet stand-

ing in the firmament. And as the star which rules Carlos's destiny, the

Queen ultimately is a figure of that divine providence which sheds its

influence on Carlos to lead him into obedience to moral law. In con-

trast to the Queen, Eboli perhaps emblems a "fallen" star, whose influ-

ence leads away from heaven's light into lawlessness. She is, as Gomez

says, "the Star by whom my Course I steer" (I, 174).

Guided then by providence into an awareness of moral order and law,

Carlos and the Queen are led into an apotheosis (V, 444-446) where they

become "all soul all love." For the King, however, providence, though

leading him to a "conversion" to faith, seems primarily to lead him into

a profound awareness of his spiritual disorder. In brilliant contrast,

Otway turns from the apotheosis of Carlos and the Queen to the sinking

despair of the King (448-456):


Th' are gone, th' are gone, where I must n'ere aspire.
Run, sally out, and set the World on fire.
Alarum Nature, let loose all the winds;
Set free those spirits whom strong Magick binds.
Let the Earth open all her Sulph'rous Veins,
The Fiends start from their Hell and shake their Chains,
Till all things from their Harmony decline,
And the Confusion be as great as mine.
Here I'l lye down, and never more arise....


The King describes the "Confusion" within his own nature in terms that

.image an apocalyptic vision of the ultimate disorder which will bring on







the world's final ruin and conflagration. By means of this contrast

between apotheosis and despair, Otway seems to suggest the dual role of

providence, guiding through law the obedient to a new heaven and earth,

and condemning through law, and man't tragic awareness of his violation

of it, the disobedient to final ruin.



















./1














CHAPTER III


According to its epilogue, The History and Fall of Caius Marius,

Otway's first blank verse tragedy, was "made" when he "Had nought but

Drums and Trumpets in his head. /H' had banish'd'Poetry and all her

Charms, /And needs the Fool would be a Man at Arms" (8-10). On Febru-

ary 10, 1678, Otway was appointed, by recommendation of the Earl of

Plymouth, ensign in a newly formed regiment under the command of the

Duke of Monmouth, and probably it was while serving with his regiment

in Flanders that Otway either designed or wrote the play. When England

recalled its troops early in 1679,2 Otway returned to London with his

play possibly yet unfinished, since it was not performed until the

autumn of that same year.

Caius Marius is significant in Otway's growth as a dramatic poet

(it reveals the presence both of an awakened political consciousness

and, consequently, of a larger awareness of man's enigmatic nature)

but, curiously enough, the play is now read chiefly for reasons which

have little to do with any intrinsic interest in Otway's thought. The

play is a partial/ adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, and the effect which

this "arrant pilfering"4 has had on critics is best illustrated by



Ghosh, I, 23.
2 Ibid.
3The London Stage, I, pt. 1, 281-282.
4Malcolm Elwin, p. 137.


76







George Odell's reaction: "Otway...conceived the really astounding idea

of grafting the romantic story of Romeo and Juliet on a situation

involving strife between Marius and Sylla.... For sheer ingenuity, this

device eclipses the glory of any the most venturesome flight conceivable

in this domain of adaptation; one can merely admire (in the sense of

wonder at) the mental perversity that could plan such a union of seem-

ingly discordant elements. No amount of familiarity with the resulting

work can quite dim one's astonishment at it."5 One readily concedes

that the kind of use Otway makes of Romeo and Juliet--the bold intrusion

of whole blocks of verbatim dialogue from Shakespeare into another con-

text--is disconcerting, but there can be no mistaking that Otway's

adaptation, as Malcolm Elwin remarks, "has deluded critics into con-

temptuous condemnation" of a play that has power, craftsmanship, and

meaning worthy of serious consideration.

In an attempt to offset the uncritical response which Otway's

adaptation seems to illicit, Montague Summers, despite his own disquiet,

claims that "Having made due allowances, it is still possible, I think,

to regard Caius Marius as an excellent play...," 7 and these allowances,

it seems, are as follows:


It is probably impossible for us to appreciate Otway's
Caius Marius as the poet intended it, and as the
spectators of 1679 received it. Yet surely if we can
disassociate our minds from so extraordinary a conjunc-
tion [between scenes from Romeo and Juliet and those
Otway devised], the scenes of the strife between Marius
and Sylla, the dramatic flight from Rome, the eerie




5Shakespeare--From Betterton to Irving (New York, 1963), I, 51-52.
6Handbook to Restoration Drama, pp. 137-138.
7The Complete Works of Thomas Otway, I, Ixxv.







apparition of the Syrian Hag, the massacres, and the
sudden crashing of despotism..., all form a series
of striking pictures drawn with no little power and
force of imagination.,


But as charitable as Summers is in making his own particular allowances,

it is difficult to see how he is able to regard Caius Marius as an

"excellent play." In effect he argues that Caius Marius is no longer

meaningful to the modern reader or that it is so only in some few of

its parts, and that we should "disassociate our minds from," that is,

ignore those scenes from Romeo and Juliet. The result of such "din-

association" is of course to reduce the play by less than half and

render it meaningless.

Perhaps the best way to approach the play seriously then is to

assume, at least for the moment, its structural integrity and to read

it, with its adaptation, as essentially a new creation. By doing so we

may be able to come to an understanding, not only of the play's meaning,

but even of Otway's bold use of Romeo and Juliet.



I


The significance which Summers admits The History and Fall of

Caius Marius probably held for its Restoration audience may reside

partly in the play's description of political disorder. Acted in the

autumn, 1679, the play appeared during what David Ogg calls "one of the

really critical years in the history of England, when the Commons were

fighting a fierce battle against the King...."9 Ogg states that "Had


8Lbid., Ixxii.
9England in the Reign of Charles II, second ed. (Oxford 1963), II,
510.







Charles died at any time in 1679 there would probably have been a

revolution; this was brought within measurable distance by the sudden

and serious illness of the King in August of that year, when the duke

of York had to be sent for from his exile; and for a moment it seemed

that the monarchy itself would disappear in the whirlpool by which it

was surrounded." It was precisely during this critical time of the

King's illness (which Otway (L. 35) makes brilliant thematic use of in

his prologue) when England seemed on the verge of chaos that Otway's

politically charged play was performed. Perhaps few plays have been

acted at a time more advantageous to their themes.

To appreciate the political scope of the play, we should recall

that a large part of the difficulty between Charles II and Parliament

was due to a fervent republicanism which had steadily spread since his

coronation. For even though the Restoration, to all practical purposes,

had destroyed the grand design of classical republicans to build

republican Rome anew in England, the vision of that design yet lingered

to re-emerge in the 1670's as the "ideal" of those who, for what ever

reason, opposed arbitrary monarchy. Not quite two decades, in fact,

followed Milton's despairing lament on the eve of Charles's return to

the throne--"Where is this goodly tower of a commonwealth which the

English boasted they would build to overshadow kings and be another Rome







10Ibid., p. 591.
T11he classical republicans' were such men as Milton, James Harrington,
Henry Nevill, and Algernon Sydney who looked to the republics of Athens,
Rome, and Venice as models for the government they desired to see
established in England. See Zera Fink, The Classical Republicans,
second ed. (Evanston, 1962).







12
in the west?" --before England (in 1678-79) once more seemed headed

towards "revolution or republicanism." 13

Zera Fink advances several conjectures in The Classical Republi-

cans to explain-why republicanism, after so resounding a defeat in 1660,

again became an "issue in English politics."14 Probably his most sig-

nificant observation is that Charles II was extremely lenient towards

his republican foes: the most notorious were imprisoned; others were

allowed to enter obscure retirement; still others were permitted to

live abroad. In effect, while scattering his enemies, Charles allowed

them to live and thus remain able to renew their teaching should oppor-

tunity permit. In addition, Fink observes that such an opportunity

seemed destined to arise because of the "failure of the Restoration to

produce a really effective attack on the political reputation either of

the classical states to which republicans looked or of their supposed

modern counterpart." 15

Royalist attacks of course were made, both before and after the

Restoration, on the reputation of republican states. These attacks

generally employed the charge, which classical histories made obviously
,16
true, "that Rome under the republic was torn by internal dissentions....









The Ready and Easy Way, in John Milton. Complete Poems and
Major Prose, ed. Merritt Y. Hughes (New York, 1957), p. 884.
13Ogg, II, 459.
14Fink, The Classical Republicans, p. 123.
15Ibid.

1bid., p. 124.







Sir Robert Filmer, for instance, describes republican Rome in Patriarchs

as "a sanctuary for all turbulent, discontented and seditious

spirits";17 and in his Observations Uvon Aristotle's Politics Touching

Forms of Government (1652), he maintained that in the republican inter-

lude between the time of Rome's Kings and Emperors "there lasted a con-

,18
tinued strife, between the nobility and Commons .... But the classi-

cal republicans took the sting from the charge by admitting that it was

true and claiming that Rome's disorders were due to defects in the

balance of power and not in republicanism.19 Nevertheless, Otway's

Caius Marius is a dramatic portrayal of the internal strife of republi-

can Rome, and (Fink to the contrary) his play does seem to constitute a

truly effective attack on republicanism, for, at the center of Rome's

disorder and his play, Otway places those passions of hatred, pride,

ambition, and fickleness to which human nature seems inevitably prone

and which finally make all attempts to achieve a genuine balance of

power impossible of fulfillment.

But the political scope of the play extends beyond an attack on

republican Rome as an "ideal" government to include a more urgent

depiction of the disorder within England itself. And indeed the "Rome"





17Patriarcha and Other Political Works of Sir Robert Filmer ed.
Peter Laslett (Oxford, 1949), p. 89. Patriarchs was first published
in 1680, though Laslett states that "It is known that Patriarcha
circulated in various manuscript copies after its composition [1640?]
and before its first printing" (p. 44). See p. 3 for Laslett's dating
of the composition.
1Ibid., p. 210.
19Fink, p. 124.








of the play is a thin disguise for England during 1678-79. Ogg

describes, for example, the apprehension felt by many in England during

1678:


The summer of 1678 abounded in omens that great
events were impending. "There seems a more than
usual concernment among all men," wrote Andrew Marvell,
"as if some great, and I hope good thing were to be
expected."...In the heavens something uncommon was
afoot; for in that year there were three eclipses of
the sun and two of the moon, and in April of the pre-
ceding year there had appeared a blazing comet, the
effects of which were still awaited with apprehension.
Astrologers prophesied "frenzies, inflammations and new
infirmities".. as well as "troubles from great men and
nobles."


Similarly, ill omens seem to abound in the play's "Rome." Sulpitius

tells Caius Marius (1, 417-425):


...the Heav'ns
Play tricks with us. Our Ensigns, as they stood
Display'd before our Troups, took fire untouch'd,
And burnt to tinder.
Three Ravens brought their young ones in the streets,
Devouring 'em before the people's eyes,
Then bore the Garbage back into their Nests.
A noise of Trumpets rattling in the Air
Was heard, and dreadfull Cries of dying men.


And later two herdsmen discuss the "sad times" (IV, 192-200):


Nay, I thought there was no good Weather
towards, when my bald-fac'd Heifer stuck up her
Tail Eastward, and ran back into a new Quick-set,
which I had just made to keep the Swine from
the Beans.

2. Herds. And t'other night, as I was at
Supper, in the Chimny-corner, a whole Family
of Swallows, that had occupy'd the Tenement these


200gg, II, 559.







seven years, fell down, Nest and all, into the
Porridge-pot, and spoil'd the Broath. Sad
times sad times, Brother!


Anticipating both the public and private tragedy which Caius Marius

will bring upon "Rome" and his family, these omens seem also to serve

as indications of some divine displeasure with "Rome."

But probably of greater consequence to Charles II than the omens

of his own day was the "Country Party's" attack on his prerogatives.

His reign, as Ogg states, stood "between two worlds":21 absolutism, on

the one hand, where authority resided in the crown; and representation,
22
on the other, where authority resided in Parliament. These two

worlds impinged on one another during Charles's reign, and though "by

sheer political genius" Charles kept intact (for the most part) his

prerogatives, the central conflict he faced was between the rights of

the monarchy and the rights of the subject.23 The result for England.

was at least a theoretical uncertainty as to where the center of

authority lay.

The opening speech of Caius Marius, in which Metellus presents the

uncertainties plaguing "Rome," just as aptly describes the uncertain-

tied within England (I, 1-6):

When will the Tut'lar Gods of Rome awake,
To fix the Order of our wayward State,
That we may once more know each other; know
Th' extent of Laws, Prerogatives and Dues;
The Bounds of Rules and Magistracy; who
Ought first to govern, and who must obey?


21Ibid., p. 445.
22
Ogg states that "It was in 1679 that the word 'representation'
first came into general use as a political term..." ibidd., p. 479).
23
Ibid., p. 459. See also pp. 450-460 for Ogg's discussion of
Parliament's attack on the various prerogatives of the King.







The factions which historically (and in Otway's play) set the Roman

senate, assembly, and consuls at odds with one another succeeded, in

the days of Caius Marius, in eliminating the center or at least the

balance of authority. And the situation undoubtedly seemed to Otway

roughly analogous to the confusion which the strife between Charles II,

the House of Lords, and the Commons brought about. These uncertainties

become in the play an image of a dark wilderness--Metellus states

(I, 147-150) that "Rome" has become,


Confusion's Night, where in the dark Disorders
Of a Divided State, men know not where
Or how to walk, for fear they lose their way,
And stumble upon Ruine.


Yet England's political disorder was equaled by a corresponding

moral disorder. It is well-known that Charles II had been bought by

Louis XIV to keep England neutral in France's wars. Moreover, large

sums of French money were also employed to bribe Parliament. In 1677,

Louis sent 200,000 livres to his ambassador in London with instructions

"to direct his efforts at embroiling the two Houses so that nothing

definite would result from the session."24 And in 1678, when Charles,

having yielded to public pressure to send troops to Flanders (of which

Otway was an officer), called Parliament into session to secure appro-

priations, "Louis...set in motion a vast organization for sowing dis-

sension among his enemies," sending money to his ambassador who, with

the help of such men as "Buckingham, Holles, Russell, and...

Shaftesbury," handed out bribes.25 At the same time, Danby, Charles's-



24Ibid., p. 540.

25bid., p. 551.







chief minister, secured sixty thousand pounds "for a campaign of

counter-bribery...." Ogg adds that "There were also Dutch and Spanish

paymasters, and in consequence only the ultra-scrupulous remained

unbribed." 26 By 1680, Louis was emlently successful, his only problem

being a rather ironic inflation of the price of bribery; as Ogg states:

"Louis had begun by bribing the king; he was now spending money in

bribing parliament...and as each party was subsidized against the other,

everybody's terms went up. The money was there, butnot even Barrillon

[the French Minister] was sure how it should be spent."27 But bribery

had thus eliminated England "from decisive influence in European

politics." 28 And against this background of bribery, the pervasive

imagery of selling in Caius Marius gains added significance, for while
29
it reflects historically accurate conditions in Rome,29 it makes the

play's "Rome" seem even more like England. Cinna remarks that in "Rome"

are yet men able to govern, "Were we not sold to Ruine" (I, 12-17).

Metellus replies (17-20):


Cinna, there
Thou'st hit my Mark: We are to Ruine sold;
In all things sold; Voices are sold in Rome:
And yet we boast of Liberty.


Yet the faction led by Caius Marius describes Cinna (I, 187-190) as,







26Ibid.

2Ibid., p. 599.
28Ibid.
29 See E. Heitland, The Roman Republic (Cambridge, 1923),
II, 220-221.








...one whose Gain's his God;
And to that cursed end he'd sacrifice
His Country's Hohour, Liberty, or Peace,
Nay, had he any, ev'n his very Gods.


But not only were members of the English Parliament subject to

bribery; the populace as a whole "became accustomed to [the] associa-

tion of their vote with some return, either in money, or privilege, or

(at least) entertainment; and so the expenses of elections increased

considerably." 30 An election in Bedfordshire in the spring of 1679,

Ogg reports, cost the candidates six thousand pounds. And at Bucking-

ham, "the rival candidates (one of them a peer) danced all night with

the wives of the burgesses, and the noble competitor assured his dance

partners that his lady would welcome their acquaintance."31 That Otway

was concerned by the implications of this "democratic" process seems

implied in Metellus's remark concerning similar situations in "Rome"

(1, 20-23):


Just Godsl
That Guardians of an Empire should be chosen
By the lewd noise of a Licentious Rout I
The sturdiest Drinker makes the Ablest Statesman.


Antonius replies (24-27):


Would it not anger any true-born Roman,
To see the giddy Multitude together,
Never consulting who 'tis best deserves,
But who Feasts highest to obtain their Suffrage?


He then describes a recent election in "Rome" where two candidates



30Ogg, ii, 479.
311bid., Ogg does not identify the location of Buckingham, but it
seems quite clear that he refers to the town in the county of Bucking-
hamshire.







"stood equal" for the consulship. Each sought to gain the popular vote

by bribing the people, who thus were continually "Changing their Voices

with their Entertainment," until one candidate thought of a "Stratagem."

bringing "A mighty Vsaaell of alerni n Wine" into the lorum, "t' at

both ende'tapt his Butt, and got the Consulship" (I, 28-44). The

Restoration audience of 1679 probably saw more in Antonius's description

than merely a case of simple bribery in republican "Rome."



II


The effect which Otway thus achieves is like a double exposure:

the moral and political disorders in monarchal England may be seen

through the image of the strife-ridden republic of Rome. It should not

matter greatly that the correspondence between the two states is not

exact, for as we shall see, Otway's dramatic argument against republi-

can forms of government rests ultimately on disorders within human

nature which make any form of government liable to internal strife.

Republican government, however, in his play seems particularly suscepti-

ble to human disorder, because it depends entirely for success on a

balance of power among the executive, legislative, and popular estates.

Polybius provides the classic text for this dependence; commenting on

Lycurgus's legislation creating a mixed state, Polybius states that

"Lycurgus...combined together all the excellences and distinctive fea-

tures of the best constitutions, that no part should become unduly pre-

dominant, and be perverted into its kindred vice [i.e., the monarchy

becoming absolute, aristocracy becoming an oligarchy, and democracy, a

lawlesaa mob]; and that, each power being checked by the others, no one

part should turn the scale or decisively out-balance the others; but
\







that, by being accurately adjusted and in exact equilibrium, the whole

might remain long steady like a ship sailing close to the wind."32 The

republican ship of Rome sank, however, though seventeenth-century

exponents of the mixed state in England were quick to point out that

Rome's failure was due to defects in the balancing of power and not in

republican theory.33 But by focusing on the ungoverned passions of

Caius Marius, Metellus, and the Roman citizens, Otway suggests implic-

itly in Caius Marius (as indeed Swift later was to do)34 that a govern-

ment which depends on an "exact equilibrium" between its estates will

fail because the nature of man is prone to excesses of passion which in

turn adversely affect the "scale of power" in government.

The opening speech of the play makes it evident that the "temp'rate

poise" of Rome's "Scale of Pow'r" has been lost. Describing the die-

orders afflicting Rome--disorders which render it difficult to know who

"ought first to govern, and who must obey" (I, 6)--Metellus adds

(I, 7-11):





32The Histories of Polybius, tr. Evelyn S. Shuckburgh (London, 1889),
I, 467.
33See Milton, The Ready and Easy Way. p. 890; James Harrington, The
Commonwealth of Oceana (London, 1887), pp. 35, 37, 44.
34Swift states that "it is hard to recollect one folly, infirmity,or
vice, to which a single man is subjected, and from which a body of
commons, either collective or represented, can be wholly exempt. For,
beside that they are composed of men with all their infirmities about
them, they have also the ill fortune to be generally led and influenced
by the very worst among themselves.... Whence it comes to pass, that
in their results we have sometimes found the same spirit of cruelty and
revenge, of malice and pride, the same blindness and obstinacy and un-
steadiness, the same ungovernable rage and anger, the same injustice,
sophistry, and fraud, that ever lodged in the breast of any individual."
A Discourse of the Contests and Dissensions Between the Nobles and Com-
mons in Athens and Rome (1701), in The Works ef Jonathan Svift, ed.
John Nichols (New York, 1812), II, 315.








It was not thus when God-like Scipio held
The Scale of Pow'r; he who with temp'rate poise
Knew how to guide the People's Liberty
In its full bounds, nor did the Nobles wrong,
For he himself was one -


In thins scene, Metellus and his fellow senators place the blame for

Rome's troubles (Otway closely following classical authorities)35 on

the ungoverned ambition of Caius Marius. Six times consul, Marius is,

at the time of the play's action, seeking to be consul once more, and

Metellus rightly asserts that "Our harassed State is Crippled with the

weight /Of his Ambition" (I, 56-57). Another senator, Antonius,

bitterly declares, "Ambition, raging like a Daemon in him, /Distorts

him to all ugly forms, sh'as need to use" (I, 66-67). And though now

an old man, "Ev'n Age can't heal the rage of his Ambition" (I, 97).

Later, Caius Marius exclaims (I, 428-430; 434-436):


Ambitionl oh Ambitioni if I've done
For thee things great and well...shall Fortune now
Forsake me?

Else why have I thus bustled in the World,
Through various and uncertain Fortunes hurl'd,
But to be Great, unequall'd, and alone?


The state's temperate poise is bound to collapse under the weight of



:Otway relies chiefly on Plutarch's Life of Caius Marius, but he
presents in the play a more balanced view of Marius's good and bad
qualities than is found in Plutarch's hostile account. He may be
influenced by the moderate and more sensible estimate of Marius found
in Sallust's The Jugurthine War. Sallust emphasizes the ambitiousness
of Marius, but his account (as well as Otway's play) is more in line
with Livy's summation of Marius as "a man about whom it would be hard
to say, if his vices and virtues are scrutinized together, whether the
excellence of his services in war outweighed the damage he did in
peace, or the reverse. So true is it that as a soldier he saved the
state, and as a civilian first confounded that same state...and in the
end made devastating war on it." Livy, tr. Alfred C. Schlesinger, Loeb
Classical Library (Cambridge, 1949)T7p. 103.







Marius's ambitious passion to be absolute in power.

Otway does not, however, fix the blame for Rome's disorder

entirely on Caius Marius. Throughout the play appears the ubiquitous

ficklanes of the citizen. Swayed by flattering oratory, catering to

bribes, the populace has become a lawless mob, a "riotous unruly

Rabble, /That bear down all Authority before 'em" (I, 15-16). And just

as important as a cause for Rome's disorder is the perverseness which

afflicts the senate. The classical historian Sallust records that

Metellus (the play's chief representative of the senate), "though

eminently distinguished by virtue, honour, and other qualities valued

by the good, had yet a haughty and disdainful spirit, the common fail-

ing of the nobility." 36 Beneath the civic anxieties expressed in his

opening speech lie other, less patriotic promptings. His praise of

Scipio as an able consul who maintained the balance of power by guiding

the people and not wronging the nobles, "For he himself was one,"

offers a hint of aristocratic pride which is then picked up and ex-

pounded by another senator, Cinna (I, 11-14):


He was indeed,
A Noble born: and still in Rome there are
Moat worthy Patrons of her ancient Honour,
Such as are fit to fill the seat of Pow'r....


Caius Marius is a plebeian, and it becomes apparent in the play that

the opposition which the senators express towards him is largely

prompted by their contempt towards the political aspirations of one who

is low born. Discussing Marius, Metellus tells his fellow senators




36The JUrpurthine War, in Sallost, Flotus, and VeliEs PAteraclus.
.tr. John Selby Watson (London, 1852), p. 155.








(1, 54-55; 57-65):


Let uB consult and weigh this subject well.
0 Romans, he's the Thorn. that galls us all.

...We're ot safe in Marlus.
Do I not know his Rise, his low Beginning,
From what a wretched despicable Root
His Greatness grew? Godsl that a Peasant's Brat,
Born in the outmost Cottages of Atoos,
And foster'd in a Corner, should by Bribes,
By Covetousness, and all the hatefull means
Of working Pride, advance his little Fate
So high, to vaunt it o're the Lords of Romel


But his appeal to an objective assessment of Caius Marius ("Let us con-

sult and weigh this subject well...") is undercut by the haughty pride

of the aristocrat which disdains the low birth of Marius. And it is

this- pride which leads the senators to reject Caius Marius, with his

"Ill manners, Ignorance, and all the Ills /Of one base born" (I, 95-96)

and to support for consul Sylla, "...a Roman Noble.../...sprung from

the ancient Stock /Of the Cornellii" (I, 112-114).

The blame for Rome's disorder then may not be placed exclusively

on any one person or faction: instead, the ambition of Caius Marius,

the pride of the nobility, and the fickleness of the multitude seem

equally responsible for the loss of equilibrium in Rome. Otway, how-

ever, probes beyond the ills which have brought about the collapse of

balance in Rome's government to expose a deeper infection that will

prove mortal to the republic: the unrelenting hatred that makes recon-

ciliation impossible between the factions led by Metellus and Marius.

Metellus bears a large share of the guilt, for at least it was he who

was first infected with hatred. He tells the senators, "I must confess

it burthens much my Age, /To see the,Man I hate thus ride my Country"

(1, 79-80), and then relates that in the war "against Jugirtha," where







he took Marius as one of his lieutenants, "'Twas there his Pride first

shew'd it self in Actions, /Opprest my Friends, and robb'd me of my

Honour" (I, 89-92). Metellus here refers to Marius's leaving the war

to return to Rome in order to stand for his first consulship. Winning

the election, Marius returned to Africa and "robb'd" Metellus of his

-"Honour" by taking away his command. Concerning this incident, Sallust

writes that Metellus "had too little firmness in bearing trouble of

mind. His irritation [at Marius's election to consul] was by some

imputed to pride; others said that a noble spirit was wounded by

insult.... But to me it is well known that he was more troubled at the

honour bestowed on Marius than at the injustice done to himself...." 37

This resentment of a haughty spirit becomes in the play a hatred which

burthenss" his age and burdens Rome as well. Metellus now supports

Sylla for consul, not only because of aristocratic pride, but because

Sylla "hates Marius, still has crost /His Pride, and clouded ev'n his

brightest Triumphs" (I, 116-117). And later when Sylla leaves Rome to

quiet a disturbance in the Roman army at Capua (IV, 127-128), Metellus

supports Cinna for consul because he "Hates Marius too: that, that's

the dearest point" (IV, 117).

Metellus may bear the larger share of guilt in the hatred between

himself and Marius because twice he rejected Marius's offers of alli-

ance between their two houses through the marriage of young Marius with

Lavinia, Metellus's daughter (I, 235-238). The extent, moreover, to

which hatred dominates his nature is indicated in his willingness to




37Ibid., p. 171. The play's Marius also imputes the beginning of
Metellus's hatred to incidents in the Jurgurthine War which wounded
Metellus's pride (I, 230-235).




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MORAL VISION IN THE DRAMA OF THOMAS OTWAY By JOHN DAVID WALKER A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE KEQIHEEMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA June, 1967

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..i^.l^lVERSITY OF FLORIDA 3 1262 08552 4071

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PR^ACE What Is known about Thomas Otway extends but a short distance beyond his artistic achievements. Records of his life are sparse, and other than his date and place of birth (3 March, 1652, Milland in the parish of Trotton, Sussex); his matriculation at Winchester College (1668) and Oxford (1669) ; his military service in Flanders (1678) ; and his death (14 April, 1685), little else has been uncovered. Scholars, however, have taken Otway's The Poet's Complaint of his Muse (1680) as being autobiographical, and without any objective sources to corroborate the "facts" of the poem, have "constructed" from it a biography, disregarding the transformation which may occur to a poet's history when 2 subjected to the pressures of an artistic mold. Though there are no extant manuscripts written by Otway, biographers have assumed that six letters published in 1697 in a volume entitled Familiar Letters by the Earl of Rochester . And several other Persons of Honour and Quality and "signed" with Otway's name are genuine. The letters bear no superscription, yet biographers uncritically have accepted a statement made in 1713 by the original publishers of the See J. C. Ghosh, The Works of Thomas Otway (Oxford, 1932), I, 6-29, All quotations from Otway's works are taken from this edition. 2 The practice is common to all who have commented on Otway's life. See particularly Roswell Gray Ham, Otway eind Lee : Biography from a Baroque Age (New Haven, 1931). 11

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3 "letters" that they were addressed to Mrs. Barry. Since they were impassioned love letters, there was thus concocted a story of Otway's "pathetic" and "unrealized" passion for the actress, which in turn was read into Otway's tragedies. Bonamy Dobr^e, for instance, referring to the "letters," declares that Mrs. Barry "kept the unfortunate Otway in a Ktftte of suspense which drove him to dlBtractlon. This wan the central experience which determined his outlook and his mentality; it made him the poet he was, though in destroying the man it may have stifled a still greater poet. ... A victim of unrequited love, he palpably relied upon the expression of the tortures of love for his most poignant scenes." Roswell Ham goes even further: "[Otway's] plays are unusually distinct: the hero, forever the man Otway; the heroine, the transfigured image of the woman he loved." Such is the legend that has grown from mere supposition and unfounded rumor, and that has biased generations of readers who find in Otway's tragedies only the mirror of "poor Otway's" hopeless love. Until more facts about Otway's life history are discovered, any biographical approach to his writing is hazardous and misleading. It is equally hazardous to read Otway's tragedies in the light of the See Ghosh, I, 13-14. In fact, the "statement" by the original publishers Is made in an advertisement at the end of volume I of Nathaniel Lee's works (1713) and repeated in the 1734 edition of his works : Familiar Letters, writ by John late Earl of Rochester , to the honourable Henry Savile . Esqr.; and other Persons of Honour and Quality: With Love-Letters by the Ingenious Mr. Thomas Otway , to that excellent Actress Mrs. Barry. ^Restoration Tragedy (Oxford, 1929), pp. 139-140. Otway and Lee , p. 85. til

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playhouse. As Aline Mackenzie Taylor points out, an Interpretation of Castallo as "Ineffectual," or of Jaffeir as "effeminate," "cowardly," "indulgent," or of Pierre as an "intrepid" villain is more often than not the effect produced by the actin| of Betterton, Charles Kemble, George Frederick Cook, or John Philip Kemble~not the effect produced from a close reading of the plays. ^ Yet even Taylor is unwilling to rely solely on the text for understanding Otway's meaning, attempting to mediate between the text and actors' interpretations. Her inclination, however, is towards the stage: "for Otway perhaps more than for other dramatists of equal caliber is it true that the reality of his plays lies not in the printed text, but in 'the soul of lively action'— in the actors who bodied forth his characters on the stage." Yet Dryden's estimate of where the "reality" of a play lies takes us away from the playhouse and into the text; in his Dedication to The Spanish Friar (1681), he writes, "as it is my ambition to please my audience, so it is my ambition to be read: that I am sure is the more lasting and the nobler design: for the propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action: all things are there beheld, as in a hasty motion, where the •I 8 objects only glide before the eye, and disappear. Dryden's premise that the ultimate meaning of a play lies in its text and not its staging underlies the kind of analysis of Otway's Next to Shakespeare ; Otway's Venice Preserv'd and The Orphan and Their History on the London Stage (Durham, 1950), pp. 6-7. ^Ibid., p. 7. ^The Works of John Dryden . ed. Walter Scott and George Saintsbury (Edinburgh, 1883), VI, 408-409. Iv

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tragedies which I attempt In this critical study. I have not hesitated to take from Otway's Intellectual milieu that which casts light on the . meaning of his drama, but primarily the text of his plays Is the central concern. And as one would expect In a dramatic career that lasted only eight years, It becomes Increasingly apparent that a central theme occupied Ocway'a artistic endeavors, a theme which gives coherence and unity to his tragic vision. Briefly stated, the theme Is the paradox of ' man's nature. At first, the theme Is expressed In terms of dualities which oppose one another within man and which pull him In opposite directions. Later, In The Orphan and, particularly. In Venice Preserv'd , the dualities are Imaged as alloys which both bless and damn each human being. In a very real sense, Otway's theme of man's paradoxical nature Is akin to the medieval vision of man as the nodal point of creation. In whom the animal and the angelic meet. But seldom have writers before or after Otway delineated, with such telling effect, the results upon man's existence of a nature which, like a whlpsaw, pulls him between two different worlds. I am grateful to my typists, Marlon Hanscom and, especially, Althea Benjamin, who produced the final typescript of the dissertation. I wish also to acknowledge a large debt to Robert Kalroey, John Fischer, and Earl Ramsey, whose commitment to the Immense statements neo-classical literature makes acts as a spur to my own efforts. Particularly I wish to thank John Fischer for helping in a variety of ways to complete the necessary forms in applying for the degree. My committee, who read this dissertation at various stages of its development, offered valuable counsel. But the debt which looms greater than all others is that which

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I owe Aubrey Williams, who directed the dissertation and who urged at every stage of its writing a more precise and thoughtful statement. Ab in teaching the scholar's craft, like Pope, he also nurtures the man within the critic, and for that I ait grateful. Finally, after all the "Years foil 'wing Years," there still is Nona, and for that too I am grateful. vi

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TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER I 1 CHAPTER II 26 CHAPTER III 76 CHAPTER IV 115 CHAPTER V 158 LIST OF WORKS CITED 212

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CHAPTER I Thomas Otway's first play, an heroic tragedy entitled Alclblades , was staged at the Duke's Theater, apparently In late September, 1675. Unfavorably criticized at Its first performance. Ignored by later scholars, the play was not a particularly auspicious start to a dramatic career which, though spanning only eight years, was to place 2 Otway among the foremost of English dramatists. Yet if one may judge by the inscription from Horace on the play's title page Laudetur ab 3 his Culpetur ab illis the initial critical response of the Restoration audience was at least mixed. Otway in fact claimed in the Preface to his second play, Don Carlos , that against "the objections some people may make" about Alclblades , he was "satisfy 'd" that he "had the greatest party of men of wit and sense on [his] side," a party which Included the Earl of Rochester, "the King, and his Royal Highness." In the same Preface, Otway implies that the objection which some J. C. Ghosh, ed. The Works of Thomas Otway (Oxford, 1932), I, 39. See The London Stage . 1660-1800 , ed. William Van Lennep (Carbondale, 1965), I, pt. I, 239. 2 Otway's last play. The Atheist , was acted not later than July, 1683 (The London Stage , I, 320). Ghosh describes Alclblades as a poor example of heroic drama, bearing "every trace of the Immature hand" (I, 39); Edmund Gosse dismisses it as a "mawkish piece of rhyming rant" (Leaves and Fruit (London, 1927), p. 97). ^Satires . Bk. 1, 11, 1. 11. | *Gho8h, I, 173-174.

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In his audience levelled at the play was aimed at his nonhlstorlcal characterization of an historical person: "...I found my self Father of a Dramatique birth, which I call'd Alclblades ; but I might without offence to any person in the Play, as well have call'd it Nebuchadnezzar. for my Hero, to do him right, was none of that squeamish Gentleman I tn«k« hlB) ....Thin X publish to Antedate the objections eomc people may make against that Play, who have been (and much good may it do 'em) very severe, ad they think, upon this." Certainly the play's hero bears little resemblance to the Alclblades of history. Briefly, Otway's hero is an Athenian general who, having profaned the shrine of the Almighty Thunderer, is condemned by the senate and forced to withdraw from Athens, leaving behind his mistress, Timandra, and his sister, Draxilla. Joining the Spartan army encamped near Athens, he becomes their general, displacing Tlssaphernes and incurring thereby his hatred. After Alclblades has left Athens, Timandra, fearful that he has found another love, becomes jealous, and with Draxilla journeys to the Spartan camp. There, reconciled with him, they are married. But their happiness is short-lived, for Tlssaphernes plots against Alclblades, and the Spartan Queen, enamoured with Alclblades, murders the king and Timandra, believing that with their deaths he will marry her. But faced with the loss of his wife, Alclblades kills himself. By the play's end, both Tlssaphernes and the Queen have been brought to justice. Otway's witty acknowledgment that his hero is unlike the historical Alclblades, that in fact the play could be called Nebuchadnezzar "without offence to any person In the Play," may act as an oblique reminder ^Ibld .. p. 173.

PAGE 11

for his critics of the distinction Aristotle makes between poetry and history. In the Poetics . Aristotle states that history describes what has been, what, for example, "Alcibiades did or had done to him"; poetry, on the other hand, describeB what mi|ht be, and "though it affixes proper names to the characters," its aim is not historical accuracy, but Che universal truth of "what such or such a kind of man will probably or necessarily say or do " Aristotle insists further that although tragedians tend to cling to historical names, they should not "aim at a rigid adherence to the traditional stories on -which tragedies are based." ^ Otway does incorporate into his plot certain historical incidents from the life of Alcibiades, such as his disfiguring the images of deity, his joining Sparta in a war against Athens, and his involvement with the Spartan Queen. ^ But his hero, in accord with Aristotle's advice, is as remote from the historical Alcibiades as is Nebuchadnezzar, and it seems surprising that part of his Restoration audience failed to recognize the poetic validity of the fictional character of the play's Alcibiades . Perhaps Otway 's own failure in artistic execution may account for the mixed reception the Restoration accorded his play. For no matter how sympathetic a reader may be towards Otway 's first drama, he still must recognize that the play is sometimes awkward in its versification and plot. Otway does not seem at ease, at least in this play, with the heroic couplet. On at least six occasions, he substitutes quatrains. ^Aristotle, De Poetica , 1451 , tr. Ingram Bywater, in The Works of Aristotle, ed. W. D. Ross, vol. XI (Oxford, n.d.) . ''see Plutarch's Life of Alcibiades , Otway's probable historical source (Ghosh, I, 39).

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p rhyming abab or abba; and his rhymes are sometimes trivial, as In Theramnes ' speech, "Stay kind Polyndus here /Whilst I go pay my just devotion there" (I, 87-88). As for the plot, the love relationship between Draxllla and Patroclus seems awkwardly handled: Introduced in Act III, evidently to parallel the relationship between Alciblades and Timandra, it is almost immediately dropped, only to re-emerge indirectly at the end of the play. But the play's awkwardness, though it cannot be overlooked, may at least be attributed to the unsureness of the poet's first dramatic efforts. Otway even admits, rather ruefully, to the play's haphazard conception and gestation. In the Preface to Don Carlos , he writes: I must confess I had often a Tlttillatlon to Poetry, but never durst venture on my Muse, till I got her into a Corner In the Country, and then like a bashful young Lover when I had her private I had Courage to fumble, but never thought she would have produc't any thing, till at last I know not how, e're I was aware, I found my self Father of a Dramatlque birth, which I call'd Alciblades ^ The offspring may indeed be somewhat awkward, but it is not devoid of grace. As Malcolm Elwin says of the play, "The ideas are good but the execution indifferent." It is with the ideas expressed in the play that we are here primarily concerned. ^See I, 31-3A, 184-187; II, 173-176; III, 127-130; IV, 244-247; V, 7-14 (a b a b c d c d). ^Ghosh, I, 173. Handbook to Restoration Drama (Port Washington, N.Y., 1966), p. 133.

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Alclblades opens with a servant's revelation to Tlmandra, "Oh all your hopes are crost, /The Gallant Atcibiades Is lost" (I, 1--2) ; It ends with Patroclus' lament, "My Friends, my Mistress, and my Father, lost!/ N«v«r w«r« growing hopo nor© ladly cro»t" (V, 530-531). Between these opening and closing scenes, the remainder of the play supports and amplifies, through a variety of related images, the Idea that, at the very moment of greatest expectation, human hopes, aims, and desires seem to meet with reversals. Responding to the servant's remark, Timandra tells Draxilla (I, 31-34): I, who before had nothing in my Eyes, But Glory and Love growing to delight. Like Chymists waiting for their labours prize; My hopes are dash't and ruin'd in their height. The suggestion of rising ("growing") and falling ("dash't. . .In their height") becomes, in other contexts of the play, an explicit image, conveying the notions of sudden reversals which occur to aspirations. In Alcibiades ' absence, for example, Theramnes pursues Timandra, who, for a moment, seems receptive, but then rejects him. Theramnes tells her, "Thus Madam Barb'rous Cruelty y'ave shown, /Raising me up only to throw me down" (I, 123-124). The Spartan King tells Alcibiades (I, 231-234): By your success th' Athenian greatness rose. And from that height to which by you th' are grown, 'Tis your success alone must throw 'em down. Though he defeats the Athenian army, Alcibiades is in turn defeated by Tlssaphemes and the Queen. Displaced by Alcibiades as general of

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Sparta, Tlssaphernes asks, "Must he at last tumble my Trophies down, / And Revel in the Glorys I have won?" (I, 285-286), privately vowing, "I fond Youth will try to work thy fall, / Though with my own I Crown thy Funeral" (295-296). And pursued by the Queen, Alcibiades, "who but now did fame and Conquest bring, /And added to the glories of a King," finds hla "Trophyes all thrown down ag«n, / By the base pasaionB of a lustful Queen" (IV, 5-8). Thus it seems that hopes, desires, aspirations, and trophies of personal achievements grow to a certain height only to there meet frustration and reversal. . In imagery other than that of rising and falling, the play also suggests that passion may grow to such an excess that it endangers the very goal towards which it labors. Draxllla seems to recognize this possibility in explaining to Timandra why Alcibiades fled Athens (I, 53-56): Think you his great soul could with patience see His rifl'd Honours heap'd on's Enemy; And not his Rage have grown to that excess. As must have ruin'd all your happiness? And Just as excessive rage may destroy what it intends to protect, even so love may grow to such an excess that it breeds a destructive passion that threatens the object of love. Timandra 's love for Alcibiades "breeds. . .Jealousie" (I, 26); and prompted by "Jealousy and Love," she (along with Draxllla) follows him to the Spartan camp. But before finding him, Timandra contemplates, with a sense of guilt, the strange effect which her love has produced (II, 1-4): What uncouth Roads Afflicted Lovers pass! How strange prepost'rous steps their Sorrows tracel Oh Alcibiades . if thou art just. Forgive th' excess of Love that bred distrust.

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Breeding Jealous distrust, Timandra's excessive love attacks the very object it desires, for Timandra sends Draxilla to "wound" (II, 48) Alcibiades with a false story of her death, instructing her to say that, distraught by his absence, she "so wrought sorrow to that height, / That her soul grew too tender for the weight" (II, 82-83). Hearing the story, Alcibiades tries to take his own life, driven unwittingly to do so by a love which bred distrust. This general theme that human hopes, aims, ambitions, and passions seem incapable of realizing, even for a 'moment, perfect fulfillment is dramatically developed in depth throughout the play. Before demonstrating the theme in detail, however, we should be aware of the moral basis upon which the theme rests. Replying to Timandra's lament that her hopes are "ruin'd in their height," Draxilla places the frustration of hope in the larger framework of divine order (I, 35-42); Alas, we but with weak intelligence Read Heaven's decrees, Th'are writ in Mystick sence; For were they open lay'd to Mortal Eyes, Men would be Gods, or they no Dieties. Perhaps the wiser pow'rs thought fit this way To give your growing happiness allay. Lest should it in its high perfection come. Your soul for the Reception might want roome. Affirming the existence of a divine government Incomprehensible to man, Draxilla explains that God's ways seem mysterious because man is not God, and being less than God, he is less than perfect in his natural powers. His very nature thus renders him incapable of receiving the "high perfection" of his hopes, passions, and ambitions. These may grow to a certain height, but there, short of perfection, they inevitably meet with frustration and reversal the "allays" divinely decreed through the limitations of man's nature.

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II In the development of his theme, Otway Is aware of the dilemma man's less than perfect nature creates, for though the human being Is Incapable of experiencing the perfect fulfillment of his desires, he nevertheless has private interests (what he conceives to be his personal good) which demand satisfaction. The dilemma becomes more Intense by virtue of those limits Imposed, not simply by his nature, but by the private good of others. Desires demand satisfaction, but complete satisfaction Is In every way limited. And to refuse to accept limits results in personal disaster. Theramnes, for example, desires Tlmandra, but this desire is frustrated by her love for Alclblades. Refusing to accept this limitation, he uses the opportunity provided by the senate's condemning Alclblades "To supplant him, and his own ends promote" (I, 10). He is made general of Athens, but his principal aim is to supplant Alclblades in Tlmandra 's arms. Tlmandra, however, rejects him, recognizing his design (I, 130-134): I How poorly did you envy the esteem I for his matchless Vertues had, and Hlml When finding him abandon 'd by the State, You, to advance your Int'rest, did create New feuds ; As if my Love were ballanc't by his Fate.... * Theramnes confesses, "Thus my mistaking Policy out-run / My Fate; and I'm by my own Plots undone" (I, 163-164). Desiring Tlmandra, falling to accept the limits Imposed upon the satisfaction of his desire by Tlmandra 's love for Alclblades, he is finally "undone" by the imperfection of mortal vision, for though he plots to circumvent, at Alclblades' expense, the limits to his desire, he cannot foresee the outcome, and

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his "mistaking Policy" circles back upon himself, bringing with It greater frustration. This episode between Theramnes and Tlmandra Is a brief epitome of the demands and limitations of private Interest, as well as the consequences Incurred when, In an attempt to circumvent limitations at another's expense, one employs plots, stratagems, or designs. The consequences for Theramnes are, for the moment, no more serious than a rebuff. But urged by his friend, Polyndus, to meet and defeat Alclblades In battle, he revives his hopes for success with Tlmandra, exclaiming, "How can my aymes but In my wishes end" (I, 190). Pursuing anew his private Interest, he ultimately comes under the Influence of Tlssaphernes, who engages him In a plot to murder Alclblades and to rape Tlmandra, a plot which once more turns back upon him, this time to destroy him. In a brief portrayal of the Athenian senate, Otway seems to emphasize the essential impiety of plotting to destroy the good of another. A democratic body, the senate appears generally to image "States" where (as the Queen remarks) "those monstrous many-headed pow'rs/ Of private int'rest publick good devours" (III, 17-18). The Spartan King interprets the senate's action in condemning Alclblades as their devouring the good of another in order to satisfy their own Interests (I, 213-219): Thou [Alclblades] like a tow 'ring Eagle soard'st above That lower Orb in which they faintly move; A flight too high for their dull souls to use, Which prompted 'em that honour to abuse: Thinking their baseness they might palliate, With the dark Cloud of Policy and State. But let them that black mlstery pursue.... He apparently means that Alclblades, because of the honors he had won.

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soared above the senate, "A flight too high" for them to control and thus "too high" for Alcibiades to be of use to the interests of the senate. Their condemning him for having profaned the shrine of the Almighty Thunderer becomes then a pretext, a "dark Cloud of Policy and State," a "black mlstery" to hide their real intention. The use of the term "mlstery" to describe a secret design. In this and other contexts of the play, seems meant to recall the "Mystlck" ways of providential design (I, 36), suggesting that man's use of hidden schemes to advance his personal good is a mimicry or impious parody of providence. The ultimate consequence of the senate's policy, as in the case of Theramnes, is the turning of that design upon themselves, for Alcibiades, whose / life the senate sought, survives to destroy them. Leading the Spartan army against Athens, he unleashes his fury "Like thunder from a Cloud.../ On all his Enemies..." (Ill, 46). The Athenian army, defeated, is scattered over the plain "Like the sad Ruins of a Hurricane" (III, 39). The imagery of storm and thunder suggests a divine retribution hurled against Athens by the Almighty Thunderer through the person Athens had plotted to destroy. Otway's most telling portrayal of the consequences which result from an individual's plots and designs to satisfy the demands of an unlimited private good may be best observed in the career of Tissaphemes and the Queen. At one point in the play, Tissaphemes remarks, "Thus to my aimes no limits I'l allow" (V, 28); and Otway emphasizes his refusal to acknowledge limitations. For Tissaphemes, there is no moral behavior imposed by conscience (III, 354-361): ^^See llj:, 217; IV, 502, 372 ("Mystick Policy").

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11 Conscience! a trick of State, found out by those That wanted power to support their Laws; That Soul's no Soul which to it self's a slave. Who any thing for Conscience sake deny, Do nothing el»« but give tlfttnaelves the lye. Nor does the fear of divine wrath act as a limitation to his aims. Towards the end of the play, the ghost of Theramnes rises out of hell to warn him of "sin": "Short time is here left for thee to remain. / 'Twere fit that thy repentance soon begin, /For think what 'tis to live in endless pain" CV, 12-14) . But Tlssaphemes dismisses the warning as merely "an odd speech," boasting that "Hell it self trembles at what I do" C15-16). Certainly Tissaphemes does not limit his private aims in consideration of another's good. Reflecting upon his intent to destroy the King and Alclbiades, he says (II, 210-215): Let Cowards spirits start at Crueltie, Remorse has still a stranger been to me. I can look on their pains with the same eyes , As Priests behold the falling Sacrifice. Whilst they yell out the horrour of their moans. My heart shall dance to th' Musick of their groanes. The King and Alcibiades are to be "sacrifices" in the attainment of his own private ends. And the use of religious imagery in his speech may suggest the impiety which seems implied in his refusal to admit limits to his aims. Tissaphemes in fact aspires to divinity: "I'l act such things whilst here 1 have abode, /Till my own Trophyes raise me to a God" (V, 32-33). Like a god, he feels himself unlimited in the potential satisfaction of his desires. Yet his first attempt both to be revenged on Alclbiades for

PAGE 20

12 displacing him as Spartan general, and to satisfy his ambition to be king prefigures his own destruction. At the wedding ceremony of Alciblades and Timandra, he believes "ev'ry thing does as I'd wish combine, /To give a happy end to my designe" (II, 197-198). Having with "great secresy and care" (202) poisoned the wine cup Alcibiades is to offer th« King, he plana that (206-209), The poyson and his sudden death will seem Fully a Trayterous design in him [Alcibiades] Then must the Crown descend on me, and so I feast my Rage, and my Ambition too. But like Theramnes earlier, he is almost undone by his own plot. With a gesture which seems a rich emblem of the way dark designs turn upon the plotter to destroy him, the King, having received the cup from Alcibiades, gives it to Tissaphernes as a mark of honor: "Come drink to such a depth as may express / Thy wishes for their Joy, and Sparta 's happiness " (II, 250-251). To save himself from his own evil, Tissaphernes pretends faintness and drops the cup. Tissaphernes' second attempt to realize his aims seems momentarily more successful. He draws Theramnes (who has been captured in battle and imprisoned) into a design against Timandra and Alcibiades (III, 320-337). Although the scheme goes awry when Alcibiades kills Theramnes, Tissaphernes quickly adapts the new circumstance to fit another design: he employs murderers to kill Theramnes' guards and then weaves a web of false evidence around Alcibiades , blaming him with the murders on the pretext that Theramnes refused to Join with him in a conspiracy against the King (IV, 328-335; 380-390). The King believes the story, and Alcibiades, along with Timandra who wishes to share his fate. Is imprisoned. \

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13 At this point, however, Tlssaphernes ' private Interests come Into conflict with the Queen's. Burning with passion for Alclbiadcs (II, 142-143), the Queen Is determined to satisfy her desires, even though, because of his respect for t!fe King and his love for Tlmandra, he has rejected her (IV, 110-117). Her response, however, to his rejection is as simple as it is direct (IV, 136-138) : ...why should I to fears and sorrows bend. If only on their fate [ Tlmandra 's and the King's] my hoi)es depend? A Rival , and a King , I may remove .... To satisfy her desires, she does not balk at devouring the public good of others. In fact, like Tlssaphernes, she refuses to acknowledge any limits to the fulfillment of her alms. She scorns the restraining dignity of majesty, that "lll-natur'd pageant mockery of fate" (II, 144-145), which raises "us high" only "To barr us of the benefits below" (147-148); she rejects the restraint of marriage vows, since husbands "never reach the height of bliss, /But ignorantly with Loves Magick play, /Till they raise Spirits they want pow'r to lay" (158-160); she contemns "Honour" as "a very word; an empty name" (183). And in a speech which reflects her desire for unlimited freedom, she also rejects the restraint of conscience (185-189) : . Give me the Soul that's large and unconfln'd; Free as the Ayr, and boundless as the Wind: Nature was then in her first excellence. When undisturb'd with puny Conscience, Mans Sacrifice was pleasure, his God, sence. The Queen in fact equates herself with deity (II, 151-154):

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14 Th' Almighty Pow'r of Heav'n came down from thence, To tast the sweets of Am'rous Excellence: Why then should Princes that are Gods below. Think that a sin which Heav'n is proud to do? Like Tlssaphernes, her refusal to recognize limits to her desires is tantamount to an impious identifying of self with deity. The King's Imprisoning of Alcibiades causes the Queen to put into motion a design of her own (IV, 543-5A6; 549): So now or never must my love succeed. Vainly weak King hast thou his doom decreed. In this beginning of his fall th'ast shown But the imperfect figure of thy own. Timandra 's and thy death is one design.... In the following scenes, Tissaphernes and the Queen plot with and against each other, each moved by the unlimited demands of private interests. The Queen plans to "bait" Tissaphernes with a promise of the Crown in exchange for his murdering the King (V, 37-41): Then if complacent to my ends he prove. In seeming to comply with his design, I'l make him but an Instrument to mine: For when success me to my wishes calls, I'l shake him off, and then unpropt he falls. He seems complm:ent enough, but, knowing her passion for Alcibiades, is aware that her"trap was dang'rously and subtly lay'd" (V, 90). As a result he counterplots (98-101) : I'l cherish her in all that she pretends. So make her ayms but covers to my ends . For when I'm seated on the Spartan Throne, Both her and all her Treasons I'l disown.... The Queen's design breeds Tissaphernes' counterplot, and these

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15 conflicting plots seem emblematic not only of the self-destructiveness of unlimited aims, but of the way evil seems to negate itself. For Tissaphernes, the "short time," which the ghost of Theramnes had said was left for repentance, Is ^Imost gone. Agreeing to make th« King a "Sacrifice" for the Queen (V, 136), Tissaphernes finds the King Mlecp. The Queen takes his crown and places it on TlssapherneB, but whether by design or awe of majesty, he is unwilling to stab him. Taking the dagger, the Queen kills the King, and, seemingly horrified, Tissaphernes tells her he cannot "conceal" her deed. She falls to her knees and cries "Treason" (V, 183); to quiet her he grabs the dagger, as if to kill her. At that moment, however, the lords of Sparta enter, and Tissaphernes finds himself in a circumstance similar to the one in which he had placed Alcibiades. The crown on his head, dagger in hand, the body of the King nearby, and the Queen pleading for her life form such a web of circumstantial evidence that he is doomed, just as earlier he had woven a web of false evidence around Alcibiades. The moment which seemed the fulfillment of his private interests turns out to be the moment of his destruction, and he is taken away to "Justice" (V, 220), undone finally by his own plots. The Queen's design, however, is not complete. With the King dead and Tissaphernes doomed, she moves next to Timandra, forcing her to take poison. As Timandra lies dying behind the curtain, Alcibiades, somehow freed from prison (V, 378) , enters the room, and the Queen Informs him that Tissaphernes killed both the King and Timandra. She then offers herself and the crown to him, but for the second time he rejects her (A05-410). In anger, she pulls back the curtain to reveal Timandra, boasting that she, not Tissaphernes, was the murderer. Timandra dies.

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16 and Alclblades kills himself. Patroclus then enters, having been told by the Queen's maid of all the Queen's plots against the King and Tlmandra. Her dark designs now lie exposed to the light of justice (V, 499-505), and, like Theramnes and Tlssaphernes, she Is, at the nonent of her highest expectation, undone by her own "mistaking Policy." Ill Although Otway describes at greater length the Inevitable consequences which attend the unlimited pursuit of one's private desires, he also suggests in the course of the play the means by which desires should be limited. In addition to his implicit affirmation of those limits Tlssaphernes and the Queen reject (conscience, moral behavior, piety), Otway focuses on love as being a force to restrain and govern private desires. Theramnes declares that "Love. . .ne're clog'd his Proselytes with Law" (III, 90), but elsewhere in the play Otway counters this statement with images affirming love to be a regulating and governing force. Draxllla, defending Alclblades' withdrawal from Athens, suggests that love may overrule the demands of other private interests. She tells Tlmandra (I, 53-58): Think you his great soul could with patience see His rifl'd Honours heap'd en's Enemy; And not his Rage have grown to that excess. As must have ruin'd all your happiness? But he withdrew, and like a Zealous Hermit did forgoe Those little Toys, to gain a Heav'n in you. His love for Tlmandra restrained Alclblades from defending his "rifl'd Honours," causing him to sacrifice "Those little Toys" tor a greater

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17 happiness; the religious Image of the lover as a "Zealous Hermit" who sacrifices worldly honor for the sake of Heaven seems^ suggestive of more than a courtly love convention, recalling a kind of love that, through saeriflelng worldly Interests, laya^up treasure In heaven. The conception of a kind of love that governs and restrains selfintarest is more fully imaged later in another speech Draxllla makes to Timandra (II, 13-14; 19-22): The serving you, my happiness secures, I'm only something by my being yours; Your Kindness gave my yeelding spirits rest. And rais'd me to a dwelling in your breast: Then ought I not in all my soul resign. To ease her griefs that kindly pitty'd mine? She suggests that one's private interest ("happiness") is secured, not through unlimited pursuit, but paradoxically through set-vice to another, through resigning self-interests in the charitable relief of another's sorrow. And again in a seeming paradox, she implies that individual worth is defined by surrender to the confining love of another in whom one finds a spiritual habitation. It is because of this kind of love that Patroclus cannot follow his father's evil counsel to murder Alciblades, since, as he tells his father, "In that I should prove a selfmurderer: / Peircing his Breast I stab m'own image there" (III, 223-224). And it Is this kind of self-effacing love that Tissaphemes rejects. The King, upon retiring Tissaphemes from the army's leadership, tells him (I, 250-253): But if thy spacious soul thou canst confine. Within this narrow Mansion of mine: Be this the utmost of thy wishes bound. Possess his grateful heart, whose head th'ast Crown'd. \

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18 Tissaphemes, however, allows no bounds or limits to his alms, and his boundless pursuit of self-interest becomes ironically the sacrifice of his own worth. The paradox that one's Interest Is secured and defined by its selfsacrifice Is like the Christian paradox that to lose one's soul for the sake of a self-sacrificing love is to find it, and nowhere in the play is this paradox better expressed than in Draxilla's definition of love, made in answer to Timandra's question "how grows Gratitude to that degree, /To be afflicted thus, and weep for me?" ClI, 25-26). Echoing both the biblical Injunction that one should love his enemies (Math. 5:44) and St. John's statement that "Greater love hath no man / than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13) » Draxilla replies (28-36): To our worst Enemies our Tears we owe. Friendship to such a noble height should rise. As their devotion does in Sacrifice, Who think they shew a zeal remiss and small, Except themselves as nobler Victims fall. With as great courage could I for you dye, And my Triumphant Soul to Heav'n should fly; There I again my Friendship would renew, And lay up chlefest Joyes in store for you. Priest and victim become one in the sacrifice which love demands; but when the sacrifice is made, love transforms the fall of the victim into the elevation of the priest. Here, in the sacrifice love requires, the rising and falling that seem to afflict man's less than perfect nature are harmonized into an ascent to heaven. Love thus offers the proper vay by which man may Imitate deity and ascend to godhead, a way implied In the chant spoken by the priests of Hymen during the marriage masque, "by Love alone we see /On Earth the glorys of a Dlftty" (II, 226-227).

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19 Rejecting the self-sacrifice that love demands, Tissaphernes, in contrast, makes others his sacrifice, delighting, like an unholy priest, in the "horrour of their moans" (II, 212-215); and choosing unlimited freedom, he seeks to achieve godhead by the acquisition of personal glory CV, 31-32). Another image reflecting the regulating control of love and the proper imitation of deity appears in Timandra's speech to Alciblades following their decision to marry (11, 126-129): And when our faithful happy hearts shall be Nearer united by that sacred tye, How in an endless Road of bliss we'l move. Steering our motions by our perfect Love I Bound by love, they are guided in their motions by love; and in the remainder of the speech, the image of planets moving in harmonious conjunction (an image submerged In the above lines) becomes explicit (132-139) : There we'll reflect o' th' various hopes and fears. Of distrest Lovers, whilst we'll kindly thence. Through a strange mystical Intelligence, Give 'em Redresses by our influence: Till so by ours, Their full-grown Joyes receive a happy birth. As Planets in their kind Conjunctions bless the Earth. Made by love to be like planets in harmonious conjunction, they become also like deity in the "strange mystical Intelligence" by which they "influence" the growth of other lovers. It is this kind of controlling love Alciblades offers the Queen (IV, 124-131) : Our entwin'd Souls each other shall enjoy. Tread vertues paths, and never loose their vay. But if one in his motion chance to err.

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Strait regulate It by the other's sphear: ; Till at the last, When the short Zodlack of this life w'ave past; With nev imp't Zeal beyond the Stars wee'l fly. There meet, and mingle to a Deity. But considering herself already a god (II, 153) and desirous of unlimited freedom, the Queen rejects the love which controls and governs. The dilemma, however, with which man is confronted because of his less than perfect nature is complex, for while Otway' affirms that man's attempt at the unlimited satisfaction of his private interests results ultimately in defeat, he seems also to affirm that, whether limited or unlimited, an individual's private good Inevitably falls short of its earthly goal. Timandra, for Instance, knows "No greater aymes , nor more Ambition" than "how... to obliege" Alclblades (III, 123-12A) , yet she is denied the satisfaction of even these limited desires, for, though no torture can make her "forgo" her "love and int'rest" (V, 348), she is deprived of life itself by the Queen. Alcibiades, whose Interests lie in serving the King and in loving Timandra, is falsely condemned by the King as a traitor, and loses Timandra through her death. The question asked by Alcibiades early in the play upon hearing the false story of Timandra' 8 death, seems pertinent, not only to its immediate context, but to the play as a whole: "Ye Gods! Is't thus your Justice you dispence, / To lay th' reward of Guilt on Innocence?" (II, 88-89). In view of the loss which attends the private aims of both the guilty and the innocent, the question demands an answer, one that reaches beyond the simple, though basic truth that, not being gods, men are imperfect and "with weak intelligence / Read Heaven's decrees, Th'are writ in Hystick sence...." • . " ' .-^

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21 The answer lies partly In the fact that none of the principal characters is guiltless. Alclbiades tacitly admits his own guilt in the lines which immediately follow his questioning of divine Justice, for he refers to hla impious overthrowing oi the Almighty Thunderer's image (II, 90-91) and assumes that Timandra's "death" is punishment for his aacrileglous act (92-93). He also la Indirectly responsible for the Queen's design against the King and Timandra, for when the Queen reveals to him her passion, Alcibiades employs a "stratagem" to free himself from her and, at the same time, to protect his manhood (IV, 111-117): For if these eyes had ne're Timandra known. You only might have call'd my heart your own. But whilst with her I enjoy love, and life. And you remain the mighty Agis wife; Know this is all I can in justice do, I'm ready on your least commands, to shew I live for her; but yet could dye for you. The stratagem seems innocent enough, but it turns upon Alcibiades, for it gives the Queen motive and incentive for murdering husband and rival (IV, 136-139) . And though Alcibiades asstunes in his questioning of divine Justice that Timandra is innocent, her guilt lies in an excessive love which bred a Jealous distrust of him, a distrust which causes her to use a vicious stratagem to test his fidelity. And the false story of her death she has Draxilla tell Alcibiades succeeds in almost precipitating his suicide (II, 93-98). At the end of the play, Timandra is placed in a situation similar to the one in which she had placed Alcibiades (Just as Tissaphemes also finds himself in a situation like that in which he had placed Alcibiades), for the Queen tempts Timandra either to relinquish her Interest in Alcibiades, or to suffer death CV, 308-309). And choosing death, Timandra Indeed precipitates

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22 Alclblades* suicide as If earlier her false story prefigured what becomes her punishment for using stratagem. Yet It Is clear that Alclblades and Tlmandra are far less guilty than either Theraransa, Tissaphernes, or the Queen j and for this reaeon, Otway's defense of divine Justice Is complex. The justice which heaven dispensea in the play seems, for example, to ifiake evil serve an ultimate good. Tissaphernes' attempt to make his son, Patroclus, murder Alclblades has an effect different from that intended. Teaching his son the "mlstery" of smiling "in's face we mean to wound" (III, 217-218), he commands him to kill his friend. But Patroclus refuses, and Tissaphernes forces his son to choose between himself and Alclblades: "Give this tinmanly Childish pitty o*re, /Or ne're presvme to call me Father more" C250-251) . Patroclus sacrifices his own interest for that of his friend (252-255): Then see how I resigne that int'rest here! Thus all the bonds of duty cancel 'd are. Whilst such black horrours in your soul I see, y'are not my Father, but my enemy. Patroclus then asks his father to sacrifice him instead of Alclblades, and Tissaphernes is forced to smooth over his design with a pious disguise. He tells Patroclus, "Alas, in this disguise I did but try / The strength and vertue of thy constancy" (277-278), meaning ostensibly hlB son's constancy toward his friend. Patroclus replies (284-287): Such mystlck wayes fate does our loves confirm. As rooted Trees stand faster by a storm. After this shock our friendship's more secure. As Gold try'd in the fire comes forth more pure. The "mlstery" Tissaphernes attempted to practice through Patroclus Is

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23 given a different effect by the "mystick wayes" of providence which brings good out of evil. Instead of harming Alclblades, Tissaphernes' plot only succeeds in confirming more emphatically the love between his son and Alclblades. * In a similar way, Tlmandra's false and vicious story, though it n««rly destroys Alclblades. finally causes him to repent his Impious act against the Almighty Thunderer. For when he discovers that Tlmandra is alive, his joy leads to repentance (II, lOA-110) : This was the greatest bliss Heav'n had to give. How rashly did my impious rage prophane Your Goodness! oh but wash away that stain, Then I with Victims will your Altars load, , And have a Sacrifice for ev'ry God; Till by those holy fires, this black offence Be purg'd and purify *d to Innocence. Tlmandra 's selfish design serves ultimately to lead Alclblades into atonement with the divine good. Probably the play's most profound vindication of divine Justice lies in heaven's transforming what seems, for the victims of human evil. Irrevocable loss into eternal gain. Tlmandra and Alclblades die as a result of the Queen's plotting, but these deaths are emblematically portrayed, in the masque of spirits which appear to Tlmandra, as their ultimate victories. While asleep in the tent which has become her prison, Tlmandra sees in a vision a group of spirits who turn the darkened prison into the "bright delightful Grove" of "Elizium" (V, 267-269). The spirits then reveal a "glorious Temple" hovering In the air in which are seated "Spirits of the happy." After informing her that she and Alclblades soon will take their places among the happy C280-285), the spirits " bless her with a nearer view" of the temple

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24 (294-295), which moves downward to enfold the tabernacle where she sleeps. The masque prefigures the transformation which divine justice brings to the darkness of human Injustice; and the descent of the temple to enfold the tabernacle seems richly emblematic of divine justice swallowing up death In victory. And what Is emblematically protrayed in this masque is realized at the play's end when, as Tlmandra dies, her soul finds an apotheosis. Alclblades cries: "Yonder she Mounts, tryumphant Spirit stay: / See where the Angels bear her Soul away!" (V, 474-475); he then follows her in death. From yet another point of view, the gain derived from the seeming loss that death causes Is the exchanging of mortal Imperfection for immortal perfection; through death, desires which have been limited by a mortal nature are now able to realize perfect fulfillment. Tlmandra says as much In answer to the Queen's question, "Madam do you know what •tia to dye?" (V, 328; 329-330; 337-340): Yes, 'tis to lay these clogs our bodys by. And be remov'd to blest eternity. Death Is a blessing, and a thing so far Above that worst of all our frailties fear; It claims our joy, since by it we put on The top of happiness, perfection. For those guided by a self-sacrificing love, imperfection ends with death, for there the soul finds "roome" to receive the "high perfection" of "growing happiness" (I, 40-42). In other words, Alclblades ultimately is Otway's attempt to describe a theodicy, an attempt which seems necessary because, in Otway's view, man's nature Is so contradictory that no matter which way a human being turns, he seems only to encounter defeat. lA Aleibiades ,

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the contradiction between the demands of man's nature both to satisfy his private interests and yet to limit that satisfaction forms a basis upon which Otway, in his later tragedies, structures his depletion of opposing impulses In man's nature. And for this reason, if for no other, Aldblades Is significant as the first stage In Otway 's development ee e drametlc poet.

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CHAPTER II Otway's second play, Don Carlos , Prince of Spain , acted at the Duke's Theater in June, 1676, followed Alclblades by less than a year, and the great advance now displayed Is made the more striking by the shortness of the Interval separating the two plays. His contemporaries who nine months earlier had criticized him severely now acclaimed Don 2 Carlos as "the best Herolck Play that has been written of late...," 3 and critics of our own day rate the play among the finest of the age. The nature of Otway's advance In Don Carlos may be Indicated by two Important developments In dramatic technique, both of which may also help to explain the attraction the play held for the Restoration audience. Although still an heroic drama, Don Carlos signals the beginning of Otway's movement away from the declamatory and stylized rhetoric of conventional heroic drama and towards the freer, more flexible rhetoric of his blank verse tragedies . Ghosh takes notice of this development (though his comments reveal an undue bias against heroic drama) : "The language is free from the unnatural violence and inflation Ghosh, I, 39. cf. The London Stage , I, pt. 1, 245. 2 Ghosh, I, 174. The quotation is from Otway's Preface to Don Carlos . 3 Ghosh, I, 40; Montague Summers, ed., The Complete Works of Thomas Otway CBloomabury, 1926), I, 111; Elwln, p. 134. John Downes , prompter to the Duke's Company, records in Roscius Ailplicanus (1708) that Don Carlos "lasted successively 10 days; it got more Money than any preceding Modem Tragedy" (The London Stage s I, pt. I, 245). 26

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27 common to the heroic play.... For the first time In the history of Restoration tragedy we hear the language of nature and passion Instead of vapid rhetoric. .. .In this respect, though acclaimed as the best heroic tragedy of the day. It has retlly nothing of that genre except the French origin and the rhymed verse, and Is essentially Elizabethan In spirit." This stylistic development may well be part of the reason for the play's warm reception, for by 1676 heroic drama was on the wane. Dryden already had announced In the Prologue to Aureng-Zebe (1675) that he had grown "weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme"; and in 1677 he was to produce his blank verse tragedy. All for Love , marking a return to Elizabethan models. In one sense, Otway's Don Carlos stands "betwixt two ages cast": Its form Is still that of heroic drama, but its rhetoric anticipates a return to the greater flexibility of blank verse tragedy. A second, less definable development may also be observed in Don Carlos , an emergence of what one may call the particular grace of Otway's tragedies. Otway describes its general "effect": ...I thank Heaven I am not yet so vain, but this I may modestly boast of, which the Author of the French Berenice has done before me in his Preface to that Play, that it never fall'd to draw Tears from the Eyes of the Auditors, I mean those whose Souls were capable of so Noble a pleasure....^ This effect which Otway claims Don Carlos had on its audience is In *Ghosh, I, 40. The London Stage . I, pt. I, CXXIII, ^Ghosh, I, 174.

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accord with that which Restoration criticism held to be a principal aim of tragedy. Dryden, for instance, declares in his "Defence of an Essay of Dramatic Poesy" (1668): "It is true, that to imitate [nature] well is a poet 'a work; but to affect the aoul, and excite the passions, and, above all, to move admiration (which is the delight of serious plays), a bare imitation will not serve." Later, in the Dedication to Amboyna (1673), Dryden defines "admiration" as "that noble passion, to which poets raise their audience in highest subjects, and they have then gained over them the greatest victory, when they are ravished into a o pleasure which is not to be expressed by words." Said more simply, one effect which Restoration tragedy sought was to create the "concernment", of the audience by touching their passions, to "delight" by affecting the soul. No Restoration dramatist was more successful than Otway in achieving this desired aim, and his success in large measure is due to his natural affinity for the pathetic mode in writing, an affinity which becomes manifest for the first time in Don Carlos and achieves its finest expression in Venice Preserv'd . To write pathetically, moreover, is to describe the passions; in the Preface to Troilus and Cressida (1679) Dryden implicitly identifies the art of describing the passions with that of pathetic writing: "To describe these [the passions] naturally, and to move them artfully, is one of the greatest commendations which can be given to a poet: to write pathetically, says Longinus, cannot proceed but from a lofty genius. A poet must be bom . Sir Walter Scott and George Saintsbury, eds. The Works of John Dryden (Edinburgh, 1882), II, 295. ^Ibid . . V, 5. . , ^ \ ! ,

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29 with this quality...'.'^ Dryden evidently thought that Otway possessed this "quality" as much as any poet past or present. In his praise of Otway after the latter 's death Dryden declared: "Mr. Otway possessed this part [the ability to describe tf?e passions] as thoroughly as any of the ancients or modems. I will not defend everything in his Venice Preserv'd; but I must bear this testimony to his memory, that the passions are truly touched in It... nature is there, which is the greatest beauty." But not only must a poet (to be successful) have a natural talent for writing pathetically, he must also, according to Dryden, have "an acquired knowledge of the passions, what they are in their own nature, and by what springs they are to be moved"; and he must have Judgment, and skill "in the principles of moral philosophy." For though the aim of tragedy is to excite the soul of the audience, it does so in order to instruct, and of course It achieves this aim not by emotional appeal alone, but by discovering and describing, as Sir William Davenant states, "truth in the passions": "For wise Poets think it more worthy to seek out truth in the Passions then to record the truth of Actions, and practise to describe Mankinde Just as we are perswaded or guided by 12 instinct...." In other words, with deliberate and thoughtful care. Restoration tragedians sought for meaning In the passions, and as a result thought and feeling became peculiarly one in their dramas. Otway ^Ibld. , VI, 274. "^Ibid., 3CVII, 325-326. ^4bld., VI, 274-275. 12 "Preface to Gondlbert" (1650) , In Critical Essays of the Seventeenth Century , ed. J. E. Splngam (Oxford, 1957), II, 3.

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30 . particularly is successful In the marriage of the two In Don Carlos , and the play marks his emergence as a mature dramatist. With his greater flexibility of versification and with his more mature comprehension of man's passions, Otway Is better able In Den Carlos than In Alclblades to bring Into sharp focus his vision of man's contfAdletory nature. Ae it emerge* in the pley, that vtelon 1« one in which disorder appears as part of man's estate, where, under the pressure of man's essential "unklndness," degree, relationship, and happiness are fragmented. Yet even though human nature seems Inevitably affected by disorders, a significant focus of the play Is also on moral law. Though moral law cannot restore order to human nature In this life, ^ Otway suggests in Don Carlos that law may guide man toward another world where order, "kindness," and happiness are found. As though In answer to Don John's question, "Why should dull Law rule Nature, who first made /That Law, by which her self is now betray'd" (II, 1-2), Otway argues implicitly and dramatically throughout Don Carlos that law is necessary to Impose order upon nature — specifically 13 human nature. At the same time, the various conceptions of human nature, either explicitly held by the characters in Don Carlos or at least Inherent in their actions, indicate that any definition of man's 13 The word "Nature" is, of course, capable of varied meanings: see Arthur 0. Love joy and George Boas, Primitivism and Related Ideas in Antiquity (Baltimore, 1935), pp. 12-13; also Lovejoy's essay, "Nature as Aesthetic Norm," Essays in the History of Ideas (New York, 1960), pp. 69-77. The focus of Don Carlos , as I understand It, is on human nature.

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31 nature Is at best uncertain. In the speech which follows his. question, Don John, for example, describes his particular view of human nature (II. 3-9): E're Man's Corruptions made him wretched, he Was born most nobel that was born most free; Each of himself was Lord; and unconfln'd Obey'd the dictates of hla Godlike mind. Law was an Innovation brought in since, When Fools began to love Obedience, And call'd their slavery Safety and defence. I According to his view, man's "true" nature is egotistically selfsufficient, or "Godlike," though now defaced by a "fall" into the corruptions of social and moral law. Don John suggests that, in order to regain his rightful nature, man must once again become lord of himself and, unconfined by law, be free to do as he wills. His view of man's nature, of course, is Influenced by the fact of his illegitimacy, for like Edmund in King Lear , whose address to Nature as his goddess is recalled in Don John's soliloquy, he is a bastard and wishes to appeal to a "natural" law that will justify the exercise of an egocentric "freedom" beyond that prescribed by social law and obligation. But "freedom" to Don John has special significance. In the scene which follows Don John's account of man's "true" nature, Eboll, whom he has been awaiting, enters, and he describes her as "the Bright Cyprian Goddess" and himself as the "Warlike God she Loves" (II, 20; 22). His reference to Venus and Mars, emblems here, perhaps, of voluntas . especially the epicurean deities, provides a "primitivlstic" context In which the freedom of Don John's "Godlike" nature receives a sexually hedonistic emphasis. This freedom is then brought into contrast with the restrictions of moral law. Eboll asks him (II, 30-32):

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32 ...If we could with happiest secresy Enjoy these sweets; Oh whither shall we fly T' Escape that sight whence we can nothing hide I She alludes specifically to the Judeo-Chrlstlan belief that "The eyes of the Lord are In every place, beholding the evil and the good" (Proverbs 15:3), a belief which makes every transgression of moral law an open sin, for "all things are naked and open unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do" (Hebrews 4:13). In reply, Don John urges her to set aside Christian moral law (with its concept of a judging lord) and to turn to a religion whose god is more pleasing and whose doctrine is more permissive (33-36) . Alas lay this Religion now Aside; I'le show thee one more pleasant, that which Jove Set forth to the old World, when from above He came himself and taught his Mortals Love. He makes even more explicit the sexual freedom of man's "true" nature, once again in contrast with moral law, in his soliloquy following his love-making with Eboll (III, 1-5): How vainly would dull Moralists Impose Limits on Love, whose Nature brooks no Laws: Love is a God, and like a God should be Inconstant: with unbounded liberty Rove as he list. In short, Don John's view of man's "true" nature is that held by the libertine. More precisely, it is the view contained in the "Epicurean" vein of libertine thought. Dale Underwood states that the "hedonistic ethics with pleasure as the summum bonum was... a central doctrine for the libertine. .. .Beyond that the individualistic and egocentric aspects of Epicurean ethics were congenial to the libertine....

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33 There was, for e:jample, the denial of an ordained and fixed order in nature and consequently of any absolute justice and law. On these grounds among others the libertine could dismiss orthodox morality as mere euBto»." ^* Don John's eoneeption of man'* "ideal" eondltion, where "Each of himself was Lord; and unconfln'd / Obey'd the dictates of hl« Godllk* mind," is essentially "individualistic and egocentric." And since law Is an "Innovation" upon the "Ideal" condition, morality becomes "mere custom" to be dispensed with at will. Without law, man has the freedom to find In sexual promiscuity his summum bonum. Don John Bays (III, 18-20): How wretched then's the man who, though aldne, ^ He thinks he's blest; yet as Confln'd to one, Is but at best a prls'ner on a Thrbne. Happiness, he asserts, lies In a sexual Indulgence which remains unconflned and Inconstant. Underwood also demonstrates that the libertine "was almost as preoccupied with the Fall of Man as was the orthodox Christian"; in Don John's first speech (II, 1-9) there seems present an Ironic parallel between his and the Christian's view of man's fall From a "Godlike" and Individualistic nature, man has fallen, according to Don John, into a communal form of life, demanding "Safety and defence," and thus into an " 'unnatural 'world of law and order." As Underwood states, in libertine thought "man had fallen from his original and primitive state 14 Etherege and the Seventeenth-Century Comedy of Manners , Tale Studies in English, vol. 135 (New Haven, 1957), p. 15. ^^Ibld., p. 32. . . ^ ^Ibid .. p. 34.

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34,. ' of bliss by following the Ignis fatuus of what the orthodox called 'civilization'. If the libertine were to redeem his fall... he could do so only by freedom from the artificial and corruptive restrictions of custom." Man's "redemption," moreover, is provided In the pattern of a god who descended, as Don John says, "and taught his Mortals Love." Don John adds that "Love is a God," and one recalls (rather hauntingly, perhaps) that Indeed Christian doctrine declares that "God is Love." Libertine thought, however, was, at best, contradictory concerning man's nature. For as Underwood says, "if the naturalism of the libertine looked one way toward the primitivist's Golden Laws of Nature, it looked another way toward the naturalism of Machiavelli and later of 18 Hobbes...." In contrast with the "state of grace" which Don John's "soft primitivism" envisioned as man's true condition, Otway places the "state of war" implied by Gomez's view of nature. Gomez represents a conception of human nature best described as Homo homini lupus . a con19 ception which reflects the "jungle world of 11^ Principe " and the war20 ring "state" of nature described by Hobbes. Essentially this world is one where human nature "is not endowed with any spark of natural reason, or any natural gregariousness. Instead, it is natural to man to have an unlimited desire for acquisition, and. . .selfadvancement or self21 assertiveness is commensurate with self-preservation." Though the . ^^ Ibid . ^®Ibid. , p. 26, 19 Hiram Haydn, The Counter-Renaissance (New York, 1960), p. 165. 20 Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan , ed. Michael Oakeshott (Oxford, n.d.)t , 82. ^^aydn, p. A42.

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35 motives for Gomez's duplicity ate varied — ambition (I, 114-116); selfprotection (I, 167-173); revenge (I, 197); love (I, 206)— each has Its origin In self-interest, thus reflecting the basic motivation of the Machiavellian and Hobbeslan "natural*^ man. But the conception of man as a wolf to man emerges principally through the Imagery Gomez employs to describe his activities. He tells Eboli (I, 208-215): . . .methinks I view from hence a King, A Queen and Prince, three goodly Flowers spring. Whilst on 'em like a subtle Bee I'l prey. Till so their Strength and Vertue drawn away, Unable to recover, each shall droop. Grow pale and fading hang his Wither 'd Top: Then fraught with Thyme Triumphant back I'l come And unlade all the pretious sweets at home. The bee traditionally has been an emblem of communal life, particularly the communal life of a monarchy. Furthermore, the bee sipping on various flowers, even noxious weeds, was an image of the way the good man, especially the Christian humanist, could extract sweetness and 22 health out of a variety of earthly contexts. But in Gomez's use of the image, the bee acquires sinister implications, for subtly and with murderous intent, it saps the life of the flowers. Gomez, of course. Is anticipating his own subtle attack on the King, Queen, and Carlos, which makes the image even more "unnatural," for bees "preying" on flowers Involves two different "kinds": but man preys upon his own kind. The 22 A clear and concise use of the tradition appears in Jonathan Swift's The Battle of the Books , in Gulliver's Travels and Other Writings , ed. Louis A. Landa (Boston, 1960), pp. 366-367. See also John Lyly, Euphues and his England , in English Reprints , ed. Edward Arber (London, 1869), II, 262-265.

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.36 Image of one kind of man as an "unnatural" animal is more explicit when later Gomez says (II, 81-84): Thu8 unaceompany'd I subtilly range The Solitary paths of dark revenge: The fearful Deer in herds to Coverts run, Whilst Beasts of prey affect to Roam alone. Granted that animals prey upon animals, the words "subtilly" and "dark revenge" impart a sinister, "unnatural" emphasis to the image. One recalls Rochester's description of the difference between the "natural" animal and man: Birds feed on Birds, Beasts on each other prey; -^ But savage Man alone, does Man betray. < Prest by Necessity, They kill for Food; j ' Man undoes Man, to do himself no good. With Teeth, and Claws, by Nature arm'd They hunt Nature's allowance, to supply their want:. But Man with Smiles, Embraces, Friendships, Praise, Inhumanely, his Fellows Life betrays, With voluntary Pains, works his Distress; Not through Necessity, but Wantoness.23 Solitary, subtle, lacking "any natural gregariousness," man becomes a beast of prey in Gomez's view of human nature, a view not unlike that considered by Hobbes in his description of the "state of nature" where 24 solitary men are "apt to Invade, and destroy one another..." and 25 where force and guile become necessary virtues. By these means Gomez "toils" (one of the operative terms of the play), that is, he sets traps John Hayward, ed. , Collected Works of John Wilmot Earl of Rochester (London, 1926), pp. 38-39. See also the discussion of man as an "unnatural" animal in Love joy and Boas, pp. 20-22. 24 Hobbes, p. 82. v ' , ^^Ibld., p. 83. ' -'

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A37 and snares for his fellow man. When confronted with this jungle world, Posa reacts openly by condemning it to Gomez (III, lAA-147): Since what may bless the World we ought to prize, 1 wish there were no publick enemies. No lurking Serpents poyson to dispence, Nor Wolves to prey on noble Innocence. But Gomez responds predictably by later catching Posa in a trap and treacherously murdering him; honesty seems utterly defenseless before that man who is a wolf to man. Along with these two contradictory views of man's nature, held by Don John and Gomez, Otway suggests still a third view in Eboli. Like Don John, she is a libertine for whom pleasure is a principal good (IV, 241-242); and like Gomez, she also is partially motivated by revenge and political ambition, employing deviousness to gain her ends. In this sense then Eboli may represent both the "epicurean" libertinism of Don John (whose duplicity is only a means to sensual gratification) and the Machiavellian-Hobbeslan "naturalism" of Gomez. It is Eboli who starts in motion the series of events which culminate in the deaths of Carlos and the Queen, and her motives are a complex mixture of desire for sexual satisfaction and for revenge. Sensing the King's Jealousy, she advises Gomez to increase it, ostensibly in order that Gomez may be revenged for past wrongs. But in her soliloquy at the end of the first act, she implies other motives (216-218): In thy fond policy Blind fool go on. And make what hast thou canst to be undone. Whilst I have nobler bus'ness of my own. By engaging Gomez in a design against the royal family, she provides a screen to hide her own "nobler bus'ness." Her motive, however, becomes

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38 more complex, for she then describes what her "nobler bus'ness" ±b (219-226): ^ Was I bred up In Greatness, have I been Nurcur'd with glorious hopes to b@ a Queent Made love my study, and with Practic'd Charms Prepar'd my self to meet a Monarch's Arms; At last to be Condemn 'd to the Embrace Of one, whom Nature made to her disgrace? An old Imperfect feeble dotard, who Can only tell Alas! what he would do? Sensual pleasure Is for Eboll a "nobler bus'ness" whose profit Is political power. But with Gomez, Eboll has neither pleasure nor political profit; thus her motive In encouraging him to plot against the King Is to trap him In his own designs, to urge him "to make what hast thou ^ canst to be undone." As she continues her soliloquy, her motive for encouraging Gomez reveals yet another aspect (229-234): No, though all hopes are in a husband dead. Another path to happiness I'l tread, Elsewhere find Joyes which I'm in him deny'd: Yet while he can let the slave serve my pride. Still I'l in pleasure live, In Glory shine: The gallant Youthful Austria shall be mine. The ambiguity in the first line is rather chilling, for in one sense Eboll 's hopes are in the death of her husband. But while he lives, she still will seek her summum bonum of pleasure for political profit In Don John, who is both virile and a prince. And alive Gomez may yet "serve" her "pride," allowing her, in another sense, to shine "In Glory." For the events Eboll has set in motion by her advice to Gomez are also motivated by her own desire to revenge herself on the King and Carlos. In Eboll 's confession in the last act of the play, she tells the King (V, 238-245): ' ,\

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39 When I perceiv'd my hopes of you were vain. Led by my lust I practls'd all my Charms, To gain the Prince Don Carlos to my Arms : But there too cross' t, I did the purpose change. And pride made him [i.e., Gomez] my Engine for Revenge: Taught him to raise your growing Jealousie. Then ray wild passion at this Prince [i.e., Don John] did fly. Rejected by King and Prince, Eboli had employed Gomez to revenge her pride. Primarily, then, Eboli 's soliloquy implies a nature in which the libertine quest for pleasure is merged with Machiavellian ruthlessness and self-advancement. And the ruthless, devious way in which she attempts to gain her end indicates her relationship with the Jungle world of Gomez. Eboli in fact in another speech links sexual Imagery with imagery of a hunter's trap (II, 75-80): Too easily I'le not my self resign, E're I am his, I'le make him surely mine; Draw him by subtile baits into the Trap, Till so too far got in to make escape. About him swiftly the soft snare I'le cast. And when I have him there I'le hold him fast. Pleasure is the tender trap In which Eboli snares her victim. In Don John, Gomez, and Eboli, Otway thus describes one set of natures man may assume. The effect of this description is to imply that human nature is so multifarious as to be definable only in terms of each individual. And in view of Don John's question, "Why should dull Law rule Nature...," a further implication seems to be that law is necessary to impose at least a semblance of order on the disorders of some kinds of human nature.

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40 II Otway enriches his theme of disorder in human nature by embedding deep within the grain of D gn Caylo s the stain of "unnaturalnese." Thi« thematic development may be oberved in the play through a word pattern involving the repetition of "unkind," "too kind," and "kind." At the first of the play, Gomez advises Carlos (I, 87-88): Let not a Fathers ills misguide your mind. But be Obedient, though he's prov'd unkind. In one sense, "unkind" may here be understood to mean "cruel." But throughout the play, Otway implies that the King's cruelty is a mani/ festation of a diseased sexuality — an "unnaturalness" which erupts in cruel behavior. Commenting on the King's jealousy, the Queen says (III, 204-208): 1. •• ' ! ' -' .. His unjust doubts have soon found out the way. To make their entry on our Marriage day: j For yet he has not with me known a night; Perhaps his Tyranny is his delight. And to such height his Cruelty is grown, i He'd Exercise it on his Queen and Son. And in similar terms, Carlos tells the King (III, 314-316): And since You take such Joy in Cruelties; ^ E' re of my death the new delight begin, Be pleas 'd to hear how cruel You have been. With apparent irony, the Queen suggests that since the King's "unjust doubts" have been the only thing "To make" an "entry" on her "Marriage day," the cause for his sexual indifference may be that "Tyranny," instead of love, "is hia delight." Carlos also indicates that the King

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finds "Joy in Cruelties," and the effect of these two speeches Is the Implication that, for the King, cruelty is a sexual "delight." Otway in fact seems to suggest that the King's cruelty achieves its "climax" in the scene where the King visits the Queen as she is alowly dying from the poison he has ordered given to her. The King seems Iniistanc that the Queen remain unaware that she is dying, for h« orders Eboli to administer the poison secretly, and then says (IV, 654-658): ...to prevent all sence Of dying, tell her I've releas'd the Prince, And that e're Morning he'l attend her: I In a disguise his presence will supply: So Glut my rage, and smiling see her dye. Wanting to be mistaken for his son, the King, upon arriving at the Queen's room, once more instructs Eboli (V, 31-38): Quickly then to her: say that Carlos here Waits to confirm his happiness with her. Go: that my vengeance I may finish quite, 'Twould be imperfect should I lose the sight. But to contrive that I may not be known, And she may still mistake me for my Son: Remove all Lights but that which may suffice To let her see me scorn her when she dies. Horrible as it may seem, the King's desire to be disguised as his son, the sexual innuendo of the phrase "confirm his happiness with her," the darkened room, and the embrace he gives her when he enters (V, 119) all seem to point towards a cruel and "unnatural" wish to have sexual intercourse with the Queen as she lies dying. The Queen, however, sees through the disguise, and the King is reduced to taunting her. In a moment of anger, the Queen returns his taunts, and he exclaims, "I ne're had pleasure with her till this Night" (V, 190). Though frustrated In his main design, the King here seems to reach a "climax" of cruelty > and

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the darkened room Indeed becomes the scene of a perverse wedding night. It Is perhaps the only kind of wedding night the King Is able to experience, for with almost clinical awareness, Otway implies a relatiot>•hlp between the King's "unnatural" Joy in cruelty and his impotancy. In the first scene of Act I, the King tells the Queen (48-51): Virgins should only fears and blushes show. But you must lay aside the Title now. The Doctrine which I preach by Heav'n is good; Ohl the Impetuous sallyes of my Blood! But the hint of his impotency (contradicting his assertion of lust In the above lines) is advanced in Henrietta's reply to the Queen's amazement at the King's "Gravity" (II, 187-192): / :: / :' , ' Alas, what can you from old age expect, When frail uneasie men themselves neglect? Some little warmth perhaps may be behind. Though such as in extinguisht fires you'l find: Where some remains of heat the ashes hold. Which (if for more you open) straight are cold. / . A later assertion of his lust seems even more false than the first when, following their momentary reconciliation, the King gives the Queen to Eboll's care "Whilst I retiring hence, my self make fit / To wait for Joyes, which are too fierce to meet" (III, 428-429). In Act V, these hints culminate in Don John's explicit statement linking Impotency with cruelty (71; 73-76): I know your Queen and Son y'have doom'd to die. Why would you cut a sure Succession off. At which your Friends must grieve, and Foes will laugh; As If since Age has from you took away Increase, you'd grow malicious and destroy? With loss of virility the King's sexuality seems to turn to malicious \ destruction.

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A3 Otway increases the scope of the King's "unnatural" sexuality by suggesting that the King's suspicion of incest between Carlos and the Queen is another "unnatural" response prompted by impotency. As the Queen Is dying, she tells the King (y, 154-157) i Not your own Daughter could have lov'd you more: Till Conscious of your Ags my fsith wss blsm'd, And I a lewd Adulteress proclaim' d; Accus'd of foulest Incest with your Son.... One is tempted to read the first verse as a taunt which the Queen, scornful of the King's fixation on incest, throws at him, but the last verses seem more clearly to indicate that the King's consciousness of his age (i.e., his impotency) motivated his charge of adultery and ^ Incest against Carlos and the Queen. By recalling Gomez's advice to Carlos ("Let not a Fathers ills misguide your mind, / But be Obedient, though he's prov'd unkind") which associates the King's "unkindness" with a disease, the relationship between the King's Impotency and his charge of incest may be more readily discernible. For Otway implies that the King's suspicions of incest are part of a sexually diseased Imagination whose development is apparently related to impotency. After Gomez has first hinted at the existence of a passion between Carlos and the Queen, the King returns to him and begs (II, 127-133): Quickly what past between 'em more declare. How greedily my Soul to ruine flyes. As he who in a Feavour burning lyes. First of his Friends does for a drop implore. Which tasted once, unable to give 'ore: Knows 'tis his bane, yet still thirsts after more. On then — The "drop" which the fevered, diseased imagination of the King implores is a description of love-tokens which may have passed between Carlos and

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44 the Queen. The King In fact wants ocular proof of their Incest. He demands of Gomez (III, 71-72): No, lead me where I may their Incest see. Dos or by heav'n — do and I'le worship Thee I The tone Is difficult to determine, compounded as It Is of threat and sexual excitement, but the Implication of a perverted desire of the Imagination to witness their Incest Is present. The Ring concludes this conversation with Gomez with a speech whose Imagery Implicitly brings together the three aspects of his "unklndness": cruelty* impotency, and a diseased imagination (III, 121-128): No, no: I need not hear it o're again. No repetitions — something must be done. Now there's no ill I know that I would shun. I'l fly, till them I've in their Incest found. Full charg'd with rage and with my vengeance hot, Like a Granado from a Cannon shot, Which lights at last upon the Enemies ground, Then breaking deals destruction all around. The first three lines, being fully end-stopped and the first two being divided Internally by strong caesuras, suggest a tension within the King which will erupt in cruelty. And that cruelty, joined with his desire to find or "see" the Queen and Carlos in the act of incest, becomes the "ill" he will not shun. Otway seems to imply through the phallic suggestlveness in the image of a cannon whose projectile is the King, "full charg'd with rage and with. . .vengeance hot," that the King's cruelty and desire to witness their Incest are expressions of an "unnatural" sexuality. One other possible sexual "unnaturalness," again associated with the King's impotency* should perhaps be mentioned. Otway may suggest ' ' • * \ I

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45 that the King 1b "prov'd unkind" in the sense that even hie cruelty la more effeminate than manly, for as the Queen is dying, 8he tells him (V, 165-174): • Thus having Urg'd your Malice to the head, You spightfully are Come to rail me dead. Had I been man and had an impious Wife, With speedy fury I'd have snatch 'd her life: Tom a broad passage open to her heart. And there have ransack' t each polluted part: Triumph 'd and laugh 'd t'have seen the Iss'uing flood. And Wantonly have bath'd my hands in blood. That had out-done the low revenge You bring, Much fitter for a Woman then a King. The very act by which he destroys her is an emblem of his "unkindness" in that it suggests the deed of a woman and not a man. And perhaps by now it may be apparent that by relating the King's cruelty and sick Imagination to his impotency, Otway ultimately is hinting at an essential negativism of the evil which renders man "unkind." The motif of sexual "unkindness," furthermore, reappears in contexts other than those involving the King's character. Otway provides a hint that Gomez (who, like the King, is old and impotent (III, 168-169), a man whom Eboli (I, 226) describes as one who "can only tell Alas! what he would do") turns to the cruel entrapment of others as a sexual substitute for pleasing Eboli. When he tells Eboli, for instance, that, like a bee, he will draw the "Strength and Vertue . . . away" from the King, Queen, and Carlos, and "Then fraught with Thyme Triumphant" return "And unlade all the pretlous sweets at home," there is at least the implication of a perverted sexuality in his "unkindness." This implication particularly becomes apparent when one recalls the use of "sweets" throughout the play to refer to sexual love: Eboli refers to the possibility of adultery "If we could with happiest secresy /Enjoy these

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A6 sweets" (II, 30-31); and Don John replies that the nobly bom "should highest prize / Loves sweets" (A3-4A) ; the King laments that jealousy poisons "all Loves sweets" (II, 114); Don John speaks of Eboll's lovenaklng as "Like too near sweets" (III, 12); and Carlos reminds the King that once he acted as a father by helping Carlos find a wife, "Then Loves dear sweets you to me would display" (III, 321). One of the effects of this persistent word pattern is to illuminate the hint Otway provides in Gomez's statement, for unable to discharge the sexual sweets of love, Gomez will unlade the "pretlous sweets" of cruelty for Eboll. Sexual "unkindness," however, is expressed as well by being "too kind" — either extreme becomes a departure from the norm of "kind." After Eboll sends Gomez to inflame the King's Jealousy, she then makes love with Don John. Gomez returns sooner than she expected, and, somewhat flustered, she upbraids him with his lack of attendance upon her. He reminds her of the task she gave him, and she replies (II, 91-94): 'Tis true, Your pardon, for I do remember now: If I forgot, 'twas love had all my mind, And 'tis no sin I hope to be too kind. Though deliberately ambiguous , Eboll of course refers in the last two verses to her love-making with Don John, hopeful that it has been "no sin... to be too kind." But as if to underscore the "unkindness" of Eboll's "too kind" encounter with Don John, Otway provides Gomez with the ironic response (95): "How happy am I in a faithful Wife!" To be "too kind" (as Eboll has been) destroys the "kindness" of marriage. The King also employs the term "too kind" to imply the Queen's "unkindness" when he criticizes the Queen's friendship with Carlos (II, 145-148):

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A7 True, she may showr promiscuous blessings down On slaves that gape for what falls from a Crown. But when too kindly she his brightness see^. It robs my Lustre to add more to his .... To be "too kind" sexually Is to be p»omiseuous and thus "unkind" to the marriage relationship. The theme of "unklndnese," permeating the play, has been described thus far as primarily sexual. But it also appears in Don Carlos in the sense of a breakdown in family relationships. Gomez's warning to Carlos to be "Obedient," though the King has "prov'd unkind," may be understood as referring to the collapse of the "kindness" binding father and son. Having been robbed by his father of his bride-to-be, Carlos laments, "A cruel Father thus destroys his Son" (I, 78). And as the King's jealousy grows, Posa warns Carlos and the Queen, "The King, the King your Father's Jealous grown; /Forgetting her, his Queen, or you his Son" (III, 194-195). In the confrontation which follows between Carlos, the Queen, and the King, Carlos attempts to address the King, "Father, if I may dare to call you so, / Since now I doubt if I'm your Son or no" (III, 309-310), but the King replies, "Will then that Monster dare to speak again?" (312). The suggestion is that, at least for the King, "kindness" has collapsed and son has become "Monster." The loss of "kind" extends to _ Include the King's relationship with the Queen, for when Gomez insinuates that against the King's commands Carlos is visiting the Queen, the King exclaims (IV, 300-302): Woman! Monstrous Woman I Did I for this into my breast receive The promising repenting Fugitive? And finally Carlos, his "heart" poisoned "with the Dishonours" done to

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48 him (IV, 9-10), Is brought to deny "kindness" (IV, 160-162): Henceforth be ever curs't the name of Son ; Since I must be a Slave because I'm one. Dutyl to whom? He's not my Father: no.... Carlos later will affirm the father-son relationship, but now, under the pressure of the King's "unkindness," order, degree, and relationship become fragmented for him. Don John, however, at least feebly attempts to recognize familial "kindness." He tells Carlos (IV, 137-142): The King your Father is my Brother, true. But I see more that's like my self in you. Freeborn I am, and not on him depend: Oblig'd to none but whom I call my Friend. And if that Title you think fit to bear. Accept the Confirmation of it here. Carlos replies, "From you, to whom I'm by such Kindness ty'd, /The secrets of my Soul I will not hide" (143-144). But even here centrifugal forces tend to destroy kindness. The focus seems to shift for Don John away from the more central relationship of l^rother to brother (almost grudgingly admitted by him) to the more distant relationship of uncle to nephew. But at the same time, Don John (in accord with his bastardy) denies any obligation Inherent in familial "kindness," shifting it to the distant, self-determined "kindness" of friendship. The ambiguousness of Carlos 's reply makes it difficult to determine whether Carlos is bound to Don John by the "kindness" of family or friendship; perhaps he is bound by both, but again the focus seems to be on that of friendship. , Yet on another occasion, and rather ironically in view of his bastardy, Don John appears to affirm the obligations of family

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49 relationship in the face of the King's attempt to dissipate or at least obfuscate it. The King, trying to win Don John's approval of his intention to destroy the Queen and Carlos, tells him (V, 77-80); • ...Thou my Brother art. And in my blood I'm certain hast a part. Onely the Justice of my Vengeance own, Th' art Heir of Spain , and my adopted Son, When a half-brother becomes an adopted son in exchange for the approval of the murder of the natural son, familial "kindness^' seems emptied of meaning or obligation. But Don John replies (81; 83-84; 87-88): I must confess there in a Crown are charms. But in my Nephew's wrong I must decline. Since he must be extinguish 't e're I shine. Did you e're Love, or have you ever known The mighty Value of so brave a Son? Once again the central relationship between father and son has collapsed and only in the peripheral relationship between uncle and nephew are degree and order maintained. But even this distant relationship the King dismisses with contempt, "I guess 'd I should be treated thus before; /I know it is thy Kindness, but no more" (89-90). Yet even though Don John affirms the bonds of "kindness" with Carlos, his egocentric view of man's nature causes him to contribute unwittingly to Carlos 's death, for it leads him into sexual promiscuity with Eboli and thus into becoming part of her motivation in encouraging Gomez against the King and Carlos. Thus the disorders which may afflict human nature seem to make it difficult, if not impossible, to maintain "kindness." And even those whoae natures are not disturbed by inward disorders often find themselves forced by the disorders of others Into

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50 ^„,. dilemmas where "kindness" again seems Impossible to maintain. The King's foolish marriage to the Queen creates for Carlos a situation where he is pulled by opposing loyalties. But these contradictory loyalties may perhaps be best illustrated by the situation which the Queen finds imposed on her. If she is "kind" to the King as her husband, she then must be "kind" to Carlos as her son and "unkind" to him as lover; and if she is "kind" to Carlos as her lover to whom she once was betrothed, she must be "unkind" to him as a son and to the King as her husband. Indeed the world which Carlos and the Queen find themselves a part of seems very like that John Donne described: 'Tis all in pieces, all cohaerence gone; All Just supply, and all Relation: • Prince, Subject, Father, Sonne, are things forgot, For every man alone thinks he hath got To be a Phoenix, and that there can bee None of that kinde, of which he is, but hee. This is the worlds condition now. ...26 III The disorders afflicting human nature extend in the play beyond man's "unklndness," and the multifarious natures he assumes, to Include human reason as well. Throughout Don Carlos, the characters express their uncertainty and unknowing: For Heav'n my Lord, you know not what you do (I, 37) Alas, my Lord, you know not with what fear / ...I come (II, 23) 26 The First Anniversary . 11. 213-219, in Frank Manley, ed., John Donnes The First Aiiniversaries (Baltimore, 1963), pp. 73-7A,

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51 I know not what to grant (II, 266) For half my miseries thou can'st not know (II, 321) 1 know not what I'd have thee do (III, 52) I shiver all, and knew no^ what I do (III, 375) What shall we do? (Ill, A76) Alas I'm torn, and know not what to do (IV, 601) . And if human reason confronts the present with uncertainty, the future also is uncertain, for Carlos 's interpretation of his own intention to join the rebels in Flanders undergoes alteration. At first he claims that his intention is to "vindicate their Cause" and by force to gain a Crown (IV, 21-32); but then he tells Don John that "for Flanders I intend my way. /Where to th' insulting Rebels I'le give Law, / To keep my self from wrongs, and them in awe" (IV, 148-150). And finally he tells the King (IV, 509-516): At last this onely way I found, to flye Your anger, and divert your Jealousie — To go for Flanders , and be so remov'd From all I ever honour 'd, ever Lov'd. There in your right, hoping I might compleat, 'Spight of my wrongs, some Action truly great. Thus by my Faith and Sufferings to out-wear Your hate, and shun that storm which threaten 'd here. The motivation for a future act (which in this instance is never completed) changes in a flux of uncertainty. Much of the characters' uncertainty results from their having to live in a world of appearances, where discrepancies exist between what seems to be and what is. Gomez exploits this discrepancy for his own gain, though finally he falls because he too is victimized by Eboll's duplicity. Aware of the King's Jealousy, Gomez increases it by simply

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' ' ' • .52 reporting to him what he has seen occurring between Carlos and the Queen, knowing as he does so that the King will interpret these occurrences in the light of his diseased jealousy. When the King tells him, "I would not find my self at last deeeiv'd," Gome* replies (III, 115; 118-119) I Nor would I 'gainst your reason be believ'd; Your Queen and Son may yet be innocent, I know but what they did, not what they meant. ' But as Gomez expects, the King replies, "Meant? what should looks and sighs and pressings mean?" (120), for, as F. N, Coeffeteau states in A Table of Humane Passions (1621), "Jealousie makes bad interpretations" being "like unto those counterfeit glasses, which never represent the M 2 7 true proportions...." Though Jealousy leads the King to make bad interpretations of appearances, Otway implies that the King is guilty of perhaps a greater fault — intellectual pride. The absurdity of the King's intellectual assertiveness throughout the play is obvious, and it is through this absurdity that Otway suggests the fallibility of human reason. The King warns Gomez that he will not endure being tortured by suspicions, and the latter replies Ironically (II, 168-171): Good Heaven forbid that I should ever dare To Question Virtue in a Queen so fair. Though she her Eyes cast on her Glorious Sun, Men oft see Treasures and yet covet none. The King answers (172-175) : 27 tr. Edward Grimeston (London, 1621), p. 178.

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53 Think not to blind me with dark Ironies, The Truth dlsguls'd in Obscure Contraries. No, I will trace his windings; All her dark And subtlest paths. Each little Action mark.... The Intellaetual arrogance In the King's reply is profound, for though the pronouns "his" and "her" refer to Carlos and the Queen, syntactically they may also refer to "Truth." Thus the King implicitly reveals his conviction that he can perceive "Truth" though It be hidden in "dark Ironies" and "Obscure Contraries"; that he can "trace" and map its "windings" and "dark. . .subtlest paths." In other words, appearances do not present a barrier to the King's perception of true "reality." He thinks himself able, as he tells Don John, to perceive the "truth" concerning the Queen, "Oh Austria , that a form so outward bright, / Should be within all dark and ugly night" (III, 35-36). And later he tells the Queen (III, 258-261): Hold! let me look! indeed y'are wondrous fair. So on the out-side Sodoms Apples were. And yet within, when open'd to the view. Not half so dang'rous, or so foul, as you. Truth holds no mystery for the King: the without and within, appearance and reality, yield their secrets to him in the pride of his reason. The irony is obvious: a slave to the passion of jealousy, misguided by his senses, the King is perhaps more blind than any other character in the play. By means of the great distance separating what is from what the King thinks exists, Otway implies the limited vision of human reason which, directed by the senses, can often only perceive the appearances of things, and, influenced by the passions, makes distorted Interpretations of appearances. The abundance of visual and auditory images, especially references to the eyes and earsi implies throughout

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. 54 . . the play, furthermore, that all any one knows Is dependent upon the senses. And the senses, as J. F. Sennault describes in The Use of Passions (1649), are "bad masters": When I consider the soul as a prisoner in the body, I bewail her condition, and I wonder not if she so oft takes falsehood for truth, because it entereth by the gate of the senses; this divine Spirit is enclosed in the body, not having any other cognizance save what she borrowth either from the Eies or the Eares thereof; and these twosenses which by nature seem so particularly appropriated to knowledge are such deceivers, as their devices are for the most part but impostures. .. .They consider only the appearances of things; they stop at accidents, their weakness cannot penetrate into substances. .. .They make us only see the appearance of objects, and hide their truth from us. We remain ignorant under these bad masters, and our Imagination being informed but by their reports, we can only conceive false opinion. . . .Hence it is that all our knowledge is full of error, and that the truth is never without falsehood, that our opinions are uncertain, and that our Passions which obey them, are alwales out of order. 28 Reason then Is ultimately unable to pierce the dark ironies and obscure contraries which hide the truth, and the consequence for the human being Is his uncertain sojourn in a world whose realities remain a mystery. To pretend otherwise is to end in madness — as does the King. IV Otway suggests, furthermore, that human nature — indefinable, various, "unkind," and severely limited in its perceptual powers — has lost the awareness of what constitutes its final good. Don Carlos begins with the King's assertion of happiness and ends with Don John's 28 Tr. Henry Earle of Monmouth (London, 1649), pp. 75-76.

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55 lament, "Despairf how vast a Triumph hast thou made?" (V, 500). And between this beginning and end the characters act out their tragic search for happiness In this life, for Don John, happiness Is 83mony-> mou8 vlfch pleasure, but Otway describes pleasure as a transient » Illusory happiness at best, as evidenced by Don John's statement to Ebolt (II, 44-49): ...Oh let me fly into those Eyes, There's something In 'em leads my Soul astray, As he who In a Negromancer 's glass Beholds his wlsh't for fortune by him pass. Yet still With greedy Eyes — Pursues the Vision as It glides away. The libertine view of man's nature provides a happiness whose chief good Is as brief as It Is Illusive, for (as the King "prophetically" Implied In his fnadness) age, disease, and impotency ultimately destroy It (V, 483-489): Look to 'tl strange things I tell thee are deslgn'd. Thou Austria shalt grow old, and in thy age Doat, Doat, my Heroe! oh a long gray Beard, With Eyes dlstillng Rheum, and hollow Cheeks, Will be such charms thou can'st not want success: But above all beware of Jealous le. It was the dreadful Curse that ruln'd me. His 'prophecy" is his own painful awareness and acceptance — now too late — of his age and Impotency; it Is "strange" and unacceptable only to the man, like Don John, whose final good lies in physical pleasure. Eboll takes "Another path to happiness" (I, 230), not altogether different from that taken by Don John, but one whose end Includes not only pleasure but political advantage. And for Eboll, pleasure's happiness Is as Illusive as It Is for Don John: she tells Gomez, "Whilst with your absence tortur'd, I In vain / Pant after joys I ne're

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56 can hope to gain" (II, 87-88). Otway Infuses her statement with degrees of Irony, and perhaps the most profound Is the futility of the llbertlne^s search for sexual happiness. Having found happiness with Don John) it quiefcly slips away, for both of ehem, vanishing with the novelty el Ita first experiences. Eboll says of Don John (IV, 2A0; 244-247): H'has reapt his Joys, and now he would be free, Yet will I hold him; Tho' enjoyment tyres. Though Love and Appetite be at the best; He'll serve as common meats fill up a Feast; And look like plenty though we never taste. Political advantage and revenge, like pleasure, are also self-defeating, for Eboli's "path to happiness" ends with her death at the hands of Gomez and the public exposure of her self-interested motives. At that point, Don John's first description of her as "the Bright Cyprian Goddess" (II, 20) is stripped of ambiguity by his last description — "vile prostitute" (V, 310). Eboli's path of pleasure for political profit leads only to the "happiness" of the common whore. The duplicity and Machiavellian craft by which Gomezpursues his happiness is just as self-defeating. When Eboll asks him why he loses "the pleasure of this happy night" by toiling "with the dull bus'ness of the State" (I, 175-178), Gomez replies (I, 179-183): Only my fair one, how to make thee great: Thou tak'st up all the bus'ness of my heart. And only to it pleasures canst impart: Say say, my Goddess, when shall I be blest? It is an Age since I was happy last. Impotent as Gomez is, happiness must lie elsewhere for him than In seKual delight, and he implies that It lies in making Eboll great. Eboll then prompts him to scheme against the royal family, declaring.

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57 "Nay Sir, I'l try what mighty Love you show: /If you will make me great, begin It now" (I, 205-206). And from that moment the business of his heart becomes the Machiavellian attempt to make Eboll great and thus make hlnaalf happy. But his buslneaa becomes a "tell" In vhich ha hln» self Is caught and destroyed. Discovering Eboll embracing Don Johni he says (IV, 443-445): ...Whilst I was busle grown In others rulnes, here I've met my own. Oh! had I perish 't e're 'twas understood. Shortly afterwards he does perish at the hands of the King. Still another path to a false happiness Is taken by the King. Quickly losing the seeming happiness he possesses at the first of the play, he moves Into the torments of Jealousy. Happiness for the King resides In a release from those torments, and that release he seeks through the destruction of Carlos and the Queen. Poison having already been given the Queen, the King tells Don John (V, 57-60): . . .I'm all that can Be counted miserable In a man: But thou shalt see how calm anon I'le grow, I'le be as happy and as gay as Thou. But Don John replies (61-64): No Sir I my happiness you cannot have. Whilst to your abject passions thus a slave. To know my ease you thoughts like mine must bring, Be something less a man, and more a King. The King, Impotent and old, cannot know the libertine's happiness, but the irony of course is that both he and the libertine are slaves to passion. Don John, however, may mean that the King, by being "a slave

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58 to th' vilest that obey" and following "blindly. . .as they lead astray" (V, 95; 97), has abdicated reason's rule over the passions; and that only by reasserting his kingly control of himself will he be able to show less hunan frailty. But the Ring miaunderstanda, and hli respenaa Indicates that he means to "grow" into Don John's kind of happiness by bacoiaing, not lord of himself as Don John would have, but a tyrant whose Jealous passions will utterly destroy "pleading Nature" and "Love" (65-70) J I'm growing so: 'Tis true that long I strove With pleading Nature, combated with Love. Those Witchcrafts that had bound my Soul so fast. But now the Date of the Enchantment's past! before my rage like ruines down they fall. And I mount up true Monarch o're e'm all. / Through the cruel assertion of a tyrannic authority which reduces "Nature" and "Love" to "ruines," the King mounts towards a happiness which, like that of the others, is self-defeating, being purchased "at so dear a rate" (IV, 667). Otway seems to suggest in Don Carlos that true happiness is unattainable by anyone in this life: political interest "misguides our wills, /And with false happiness smooths o're our ills" (II, 195-196); 29 Fate seems to work against happiness; even law and moral order may deny happiness (Carlos can find happiness only with the Queen, but moral law, Imposed by the Queen, keeps him at a distance.) He tells her (II, 278-280)1 ^^See III, 96; III, 452-456.

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59 How difficult' 8 the path to happiness I Whilst up the Precipice we climb with pain. One little slip throwes us quite down again. Their dllenoia brings the Queen finally to lament (III, 469-473) « Oh that we had never met. But in our distant Clymates still been fre^l I might have heard of you, and you of me: So towards happiness more safely mov'd; And never been thus wretched, Yet have lov'd. But Otway leaves the impression in Don Carlos that all pathways to happiness in this world seem doomed to end in failure, Otway, nevertheless, implies also that there is a path which, leading through death, ends in a restoration of happiness in another world. By means of a pervasive image of happiness as a treasure man either 30 loses or has stolen from him, Otway perhaps recalls Christ's statement that man should not lay up for himself treasures upon the earth, but rather he should lay up treasures in heaven: "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Matt. 6:19-21). The happiness which Don John, Eboli, Gomez, and the King seek is a treasure of this world. And so it is for Carlos, but the Queen, by imposing moral law on him, forces him to remove his hope for treasure on earth to treasure in heaven, where, as the Queen says, "without spot hereafter we above / May meet when we shall come all soul all love" (II, 297-298). Though law cannot provide happiness for man in this life, it may lead him to where happiness can be achieved. Paradoxically, that time and place where happiness may be found are in death, for only then do Carlos and the ^°See I, 12-13; 227-228; II, 170-171; 270-275; 311-314; III, 116-117; 321-322; 426-427; V, 200.

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60 Queen find happiness In the anticipation of an Imminent life together In paradise. % The focus thus far in this analysis of Otway's dramatic argument for law as a necessary guide for human nature has been on the disorders which may afflict individual human nature, the dilemmas such disorders create for others, and on man's search to find his lost felicity, all of which reveal the need for some ordering principle. It now remains to describe Otway's more positive affirmation of law as that principle of order. His affirmation, moreover, is twofold, encompassing the underlying principles of both the Christian and Hebraic views of moral law. On the one hand, confronted by uncertainties and the limited scope of human reason, Otway implies that man must walk by faith and not by sight. By following what one may call a law of faith, furthermore, man may find the path to true happiness. Defending the Queen, Carlos tells the King (III, 363-365): • ., If to her Cause you do not credit give, • Fondly against your happiness you'l strive. As some loose Heav'n because they won't believe. And the King then tells the Queen (402-405) s Oh wert thou true how happy should I be I Think' St Thou that I have Joy to part with thee? No, all my Kingdom fot the bliss I'd give: Nay though it were not so but to believe. But his diseased jealousy makes the King unwilling to believe the virtue of his Queen, and he loses the path to happiness, his Queen, and heaven \

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61 Itself, for his disbelief turns his world into a hell. He tells Dcra John (V, 103-107): ...why, is there any Truth In Woraena Vowea, or Diaobetilent Youth? I sooner would believe this World were Heav'n; Where I have nought but Toyles and Torment met, And never comfort yet to man was given. ... Faith will not change the miseries of life, but it may provide a foretaste of the happiness of heaven: by his disbelief, the King is left with only the "Toyles and Torment" that prefigure hell. If faith is required in the midst of uncertainties, Otway also suggests through the dilemma confronting Carlos and the Queen that moral law is required to govern the disorders within human nature. Their dilemma is one in which the principal conflict is between passionate, individual desires and the moral law requiring honor to one's father (Exodus 20:12) and forbidding incest (Lev. 18:8). In the latter, the conflict is made more intense (and Otway 's affirmation of law more emphatic) because only by law are Carlos's desires "unnatural," since only by law is the Queen related to him. The emphasis then is not on the "unnaturalness" of his desires, but rather upon the demand fair obedience to law. As the play opens, Carlos reveals his rebelliousness towards authority (I, 14-17): ; . Curse! What's obedience? a false Notion made By Priests, who when they found old Cheats decay 'd. By such new Arts kept up declining Trade. A Father oh I — The imagery indicates that his rebelliousness is not only towards the authority of the King , his father , but towards moral authority

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Itself. ^^ Similar Imagery appears in Carlos 's response to the advice Gomez offers to "Let not a Fathers ills misguide your mind, / But be Obedient, though he's prov'd unkind": Carlos replies, "Hence Cynick to dull Slaves thy Morals teach, / 1 have no leisure new te hear thee Preach" (I, 87-90). The obedience towards which Carlos moves throughout the play nay be described as a submlssiveness both to parental and moral authority. This movement begins with the first, private interview Carlos has with the Queen. She attempts to avoid him, biit he stops her and asks (II, 218-219): « ' . ,,;' Is Carlos sight ungrateful to you grown? i If 'tis, speak. In Obedience I'le retire. When the Queen answers, "No, you may speak, but must advance no nigher" (220), Carlos replies (221-226): Must I then at that Awful distance sue, As our forefathers were Compel 'd to do When they petitions made at that great Shrine, Where none but the High Priest might enter in? Let me approach; I've nothing for your Ear, But what's so pure it might be Offer 'd there. The imagery on one level portrays the Queen as love's temple whose sanctum sanctorum only the King (as High Priest) may enter. And on this level, Carlos reveals his disregard for parental and legal authority. But on another level the imagery of the Hebraic Temple suggests the larger dimensions of Carlos 's rebellion. One may recall that because of the disorder within human nature occasioned by the Fall, God becomes a ^^See III, 41; "My SonI That Rebel both to Heav'n and mel"

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63 hidden God, veiled In the obscurity of the holy of holies. The conimon worshipper's being forced to remain outside emblems the "Awful distance" separating him from Deus abscondltus , and It is only by ritual of law that h« la enabled to approach throi<|h petitlona what once tha flrat man beheld. Carlos wants (like Don John) to "lay this Religion now Aside"— In affect to deny the Fall and law, implying that his nature Is "pure" and thus rightfully able to speak directly to his deity. The virtue of the Queen, however, restrains him (245-248): If e're you lov'd me you would this forbear; It is a Language which I dare not hear: My Heart and Faith become your Fathers right. All other passions I must now forget. , They both have lost the "kindness" of lovers: she may no longer hear his language of love, and he may not enter the shrine of love's temple. And the Implication is present— in contradiction to Don John's assertion of man's "Godlike" nature—that man has lost his "kindness" with deity, and only through obedience to law may the "Awful distance" be bridged. The Queen, however, finds "That still at least I cannot be unkind" (II, 267), and then proceeds to a statement of the only possible "kindness" permissible within the "unkindness" her marriage to the King imposes between her and Carlos. In response to Carlos 's plea, "Let me love on" (285), she replies (295-298): Love then Brave Prince, whilst I'l thy Love admire. Yet keep the Flame so pure, such chast desire, That without spot hereafter we above May meet when we shall come all soul all love. Their profane love must image holy love, and in this sense the Queen describes a type of caritas, the only "kindness" they may experience,

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64 . and one which may infuse restrictive moral law with a foretaste of that love they may find when their "kindness" is restored in heaven. But though the Queen may be an emblem of both human and divine law (perhaps even grace), she herself is subject to the same temptatiens that face Carlos. For while speaking to Carlos (as the stage directions Indicate), she " Gives her hand , which D. Carlos during all this speech kisses eagerly ." The stage effect thus emblems the conflicting demands of desire and moral law which clash within Carlos and for the moment within the Queen. Recognizing her danger, "Oh whither am I run astray" (II, 299), she leaves. But Carlos is overcome, telling Posa, "I'm more Impatient than before, /And have discover'd Riches, make me mad" (311^ 312). Posa tells him that "those Treasures are not to be had" and advises that he "correct desires" which lead him "Beyond that duty which becomes a Son"; "The Brave may by themselves be happy made. / You to your Father now must all resign" (313-318). Posa seems to counsel Christian patience, which, according to Lactantius' Divine Institutes, is a virtue that, by acquiescing to divine decrees, "recalls the disturbed and wavering mind to its tranquility; it mitigates, it restores a nan to himself." ^ But Carlos replies (319-324): But e're he rob'd me of her she was mine. Make my self happy! bid the damn'd do so; Who in sad Flames, must be for ever tost, Yet still in view of the lov'd Hea'vn th'ave lost. His refusal to submit in lawful worship before the shrine he cannot ^^The Ante Nlcene Christian Library, eds , Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (Edlnburg, 1867-1872), XXI, 347.

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65 enter increases that "Awful distance" separating the obedient worshipper from the holy of holies to the still more "Awful distance" separating the damned in hell from heaven. Yet guided by the Queen, Carlos^moves closer to obedience. Having urged to Carlos the necessity of submission and of a holy love, the Queen next urges the need for hope. Informed of the King's Jealous rage, Carlos expresses a desire to die in her defense, but she replies (III, 220-225): Talk not of death, for that ev'n Cowards dare, When their base fears compel e'm to despair. Hope's ^the far nobler passion of the Mind, Fortune's a Mistriss that's with Caution kind, Knows that the constant merit her alone; They, who though she seem froward, yet court on. Hope should stand between Carlos and despair, but Otway seems to suggest in Don Carlos that hopes are fulfilled only in that world where man exists "all soul all love." Through perseverance and constancy, man may be led by Forttine to the place where the treasure of his desire may be granted, but not in this life. Not until their deaths do Carlos and the Queen recognize this truth. Yet Carlos replies, "To wretched minds thus still some comfort gleames, /And Angels ease our griefs though but with dreames" (226-227). Carlos has now reached the point where, in defense of the Queen, he confesses to the King his disobedience (III, 354-360): I love the Queen, I have confest 'tis true: Proud too to think I love her more than you; Though she by Heav'n is clear — but I Indeed Have been unjust, and do deserve to bleed. There were no lawless thoughts that I did want. Tho' I ne're yet found hopes to raise 'em on...

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' .66 That his confession, however, Is not a true submission is Indicated by the Queen: "No Sir, he through despair all this has said, /And owns Offences which he never made" (370-371). Yet his movement towards ebedlcne* la Implicit. The scene ends with the reeenellletlon between the King and Queen, and with Carlos 's exile from the court. With this exile and their reconciliation, any hope for his present poeeession of the Queen is extinguished (515-518): | Thus long I wander 'd In Loves crooked way. By hope's deluding Meteor, led astray: For e're I've half the dang'rous desart crost. The gllmm'ring light's gone out, and I am lost. Carlos now recognizes, if not accepts, the impossibility of fulfilling his hope of love — that hope which is a false light. Relinquishing this hope, Carlos is left uLth the alternatives of obedience through exile or armed rebellion. But whether Carlos leaves the court or not, he recognizes his loss. Act IV begins with his resigned lament (1-6): • ;. • The next is the Apartment of the Queen; In vain I try, I must not venture in. Thus is it with the Souls of murder 'd men; Who to their Bodies would agen repair. But finding that they cannot enter there. Mourning and groaning wander in the Aire. His refusal to enter her apartment may imply a growing acceptance of his condition. But rebelliousness is yet present (7-10) j Rob'd of my Love, and as unjustly thrown 1 From all those hopes that promls'd me a Crown, My heart, with the Dishonour's to me done. Is poison 'd. , . . And Carlos has Fosa write to the Rebels in Flanders, intending at this \

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67 point an armed rebellion to gain the Crown. Yet this intention is only momentary (as we have seen) and his motives change as he draws nearer true submission. IB another Image, Carlos describes his loss and what now appaara to be his acceptance of it. Eboli offers him her love, and Carlos » thinking aha refers to the Queen's love, replies (IV, 51-54) t No Madam I what's my due none e're can pay, There stands that Angel Honour in the way Watching his Charge with never sleeping eyes. And stops my Entrance into Paradlce. The imagery on one level brings to mind lo, whom Zeus loved yet lost 33 through circumstance, and her guardian, the never-sleeping Argus. More clearly perhaps the imagery may recall the garden of Hesperides, 3A guarded over by the ever-watchful dragon. And on this level the Queen is imaged as a lost lover and an earthly paradise which "Honour," the imperative of moral law, prohibits Carlos from enjoying. On another level, the imagery recalls the garden of Eden from which, Otway implies, Carlos is exiled, a paradise where, because of man's disordered, fallen nature, entrance is prohibited by an angel. Whatever else "Honour" may mean, it serves both as a voice of law to govern fallen nature and as a reminder of man's loss of Eden, the seat of his true nature. 33 See Ovid, Metamorphoses , tr. Rolfe Humphries (Bloomington, 1958), pp. 21-22. 34 In Shakespeare's Pericles , a play which also concerns incest, though in a considerably different manner, Antiochus describes his daughter to Perlclea (I, i, 29-31): Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view Her countless glory, which desert must gain....

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68 With this apparent resignation to his exile from his paradise, Carlos, fThen once more pursued by the renewed rage of the King, accedes . to the Queen's request (IV, 379-383): Yet then be kind; your angry Father's rage, , I know the least submission will asswage. You're hot with Youth, He's cholerlck with Age. To him: and put a true obedience on; Be humble, and express yourself a Son. But when he kneels In submission before his father, the King disowns him, casting doubt on the faithfulness of Carlos 's mother, and Carlos exclaims, "Submission, which way got it entrance here" (IV, A71) . The King then reveals the body of Posa, charging Carlos with treason, and Carlos draws his sword in vengeance. But at this crucial moment Carlos rejects armed rebellion and thus is left with the other alternative of submission. Throwing away his sword, he recognizes the King as father: "No: Tho' unjust, you are my Father still. /And from that Title must your safety own" (488-489). In the Justification which Carlos then gives the King for Intending to go to Flanders, he reveals the beginning of his true obedience. Admitting that, because of the 'dishonor the King had done him, his "Duty Long with Nature was at strife" (IV, 500-503), Carlos Interprets his intention to Join the Rebels as an attempt to escape the King's anger and Jealousy and, at the same time, to complete "There in your right... some Action truly great" (509-514) . His intention then (at least In the light now of Carlos' 8 submission) was to confirm the demands of "Duty" or law over the demands of his rebellious nature. But the King in his Jealousy refuses his obedience, and Carlos is condemned to death. Once more Carlos returns to the Queen to stand in opposition to his Father*

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69 but the situation Is somewhat different, for Carlos now opposes the King, not through willful choice, but because the King's cruelty has forced it upon him. This obstacle of the King's jealousy and cruelty, however, is removed for Carlos in the last act through Eboli's confession and the King's realization that he has been misled. The scene la set in a darkened room "With one dim Lamp that yields imperfect light" (V, 40) where the Queen lies dying. The setting is a fit emblem for the limitations of human reason of which the King now becomes tragically aware. Into thia setting, Carlos is brought, having opened his own veins and having been secretly poisoned by Gomez. He tells the King (348-350): I come to take my farewel, e're I go To that bright dwelling, where there is no room For Blood, and where the Cruel never Come. But the King has lost his cruelty, and when Carlos asks to be placed by the Queen's side, the King, no longet jealous, leads him. Carlos says (368-371): Y'ave thus more kindness shown. Then if y'ad Crown' d and plac't me on your Throne. Methinks so highly happy I appear. That I could pity you, to see You there.... The paradoxes involved are Otway's indication of the ultimate tragedy of the human predicament. The King's return to "kindness" is met by the ruins caused by his "unkindness"; Carlos finds happiness only when dying. And finally his true act of obedience is made when It has become too late (406-414):

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70 I was a wicked Son, Indeed I was; Rebel to Yours as well as Duties Laws. By head-strong will too proud to be confined; Scorn 'd your Commands, and at your Joyes repln'd. When to my love your Royal Claim was layd, I should have bom my Inj'ries and obeyd; But I was hat, and would my right maintain* Which you forgave; yet I rebell'd again, And nought but death can now wash off the stain. The human predicament, Otway seems to suggest, is that the limitations and disorders of human nature are finally understood only through the tragedies they cause. Though law may not avert tragedy, Otway also implies that law may lead to a life beyond tragedy. Carlos, guided by the Queen's virtue, has progressed to within the boundaries of moral law and order* and through their tragedies they both discover a greater life. The Queen says (435-439): From all my Injuries and all my fears. From Jealousie Love's bane, the worst of Cares, Thus I remove to find that stranger rest. Carlos thy hand; support me on thy breast: Within this minute how shall we be blest! Death paradoxically becomes their marriage rite and the beginning of their life together; Carlos replies (440-443): Oh far above What ever wishes fram'd, or hopes design 'd; Thus where we go we shall the Angels find, For ever pressing, and for ever kind. In that place where they will become "all soul all love," happiness is reachedt hopes are fulfilled, and "kindness" for ever restored.

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71 VI Otway thus Implicitly answers in Don Carlos the question, "Why should dull Law rule N«ture..,." Ai\^ If his answer centers primarily on the disorders within man which need the ordering rule of law, perhaps it is because Otway sees human nature as fallen from the state of its creation. The result of that fall, as Pascal states, is disorder: "Man does not know in what rank to place himself. He has plainly gone astray, and fallen from his true place without being able to find it again. He seeks it anxiously and unsuccessfully everjrwhere in impenetrable dark35 ness" (A27). Or as Otway describes it, man's disorder is imaged in his "unkindness": he seeks his true nature, but only succeeds in assuming multifarious, often contradictory, natures. And no matter what nature he assumes, he carries with him always an essential "unkindness" which serves only to discover the "impenetrable darkness" of his uncertainty and the loss of his happiness. If ever the human being is to return to his true nature, Otway suggests that it must be by way of obedience to law. But since disorder seems to be an almost inescapable condition of human life, Otway suggests that law serves ultimately to instruct and guide man toward a time and place beyond death where order is finally restored and man's true place re-established. As man's guide and instructor, law may act, Otway implies, as an agent of divine providence. When the King realizes his Injustice in destroying the Queen, he asks, "Heav'n where is now thy Bleeping providence, / That took so little care of Innocence?" (V, 288-28S0. 35 Blalae Pascal, Pfeiis^ea . tr. W. F. Trotter (New York, 1941), p. 135.

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\ 12 But part of the King's blindness is his inability to perceive the working of providence in a world where he has met only "Toyles and Torment," Otway, however, has shown throughout Don Carlos that providence has been actively Ateempeing to lead, not only Carlot «n4 eh» Que«ni but alio th« King through the appeal of moral law. But the King rejects the plea of providence that he should submit to the law of faith, a plea uttered through Carlos as he stands in defense of the Queen. Yet providence pursues the King, incorporating the tragic results of his disbelief into a design to bring him into an awareness of his infidelity. Tormenting the dying Queen, the King asks, "How comes it that above such mercy dwels, /To permit Sin, and make us Infidels?" (V, 143-144). Though his question is an ironic and blasphemous attack on divine mercy, providence, moved no longer by mercy but now by justice. Is in effect guiding the King toward a tragic recognition of his own infidelity. This design of providence to bring the King into an awareness of his sin may be illtminated by the following quotation, expressive of a Christian commonplace, from The Heptameron of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre: "I confess," replied Longarine, "that if the word of God doth not show us by faith the leprosy of Infidelity that is hidden in our hearts, God does us good service when we fall into some open sin, by the which the secret plague becomes clearly manifest. And happy are they whom faith has so humbled that they have no need of making trial of their sinful nature by its outward effects. 3^ tr. Arthur Machen (Philadelphia, n.d.), II, 25. cf. Saint Augustine, Confessions, [VIII, vii], tr. F. J. Sheed (New York, 1943), p. 169: "And You [God] set me there before my own face that I might see how vile I was, how t%rf^ted and unclean and spotted and ulcerou^. . . .You were setting me face to face with myself, forcing me upon my own sight, that I might see my iniquity and loathe it."

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73 Having rejected faith, the King Is brought by the "outward effects" of his Infidelity Into an awareness of his sin and Into an acceptance of faith, an acceptance, however, which now serves only to render him self -condemned. But providence has also been active, through the medium of law, in leading Carlos and the Queen toward the happiness which their dilemma renders Impossible of attainment In this life. And while being led herself by law, the Queen also serves a figurative purpose in the play by becoming the human agent through whom providence guides Carlos into obedience to law. "She is the Star that rules my Destiny" (IV, 530), Carlos says, and in light of the implications Otway associates with the star image in the play, one may say that providence rules Carlos 's destiny. The implications concerning the star image emerge Ironically through the King's speeches. Before giving in altogether to jealousy, the King asks "...she's all divine: /Speak Friends, can Angels in perfection sin?"; Gomez replies, "Angels that shine above do oft bestow/ Their Influence on poor Mortals here below" (II, 139-1A2) . The Queen seems "divine," an Angel "in perfection," and Gomez says that as such she is a star who bestows heaven's influence on "Mortals here below"— a reference perhaps to the tradition that each star had its angel or vas an angel, and thus exerted influence in a kind of astrological provl37 dence. Later, the King tells the Queen (IV, 590-595): 37 See C. S. Lewis^ The Discarded Image (Cambridge, 1964), pp. 115-116,

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74 Th' art Woman, a true Copy of the first, In whom the race of all Mankind was curst. Your Sex by Beauty was to Heav'n ally'd; But your great Lord the Devil taught you pride. . He too an Angel till he durst rebel; And you are sure the Stars that with him fell. The King's misinterpretation of the Queen leaves the impression that the Queen may be, in her obedience to divine law, an angelic star yet standing in the firmament. And as the star which rules Carlos' s destiny, the Queen ultimately is a figure of that divine providence which sheds its influence on Carlos to lead him into obedience to moral law. In contrast to the Queen, Eboli perhaps emblems a "fallen" star, whose influence leads away from heaven's light into lawlessness. She is, as Gomez says, "the Star by whom my Course I steer" (I, 174). Guided then by providence into an awareness of moral order and law, Carlos and the Queen are led into an apotheosis (V, 444-446) where they become "all soul all love." For the King, however, providence, though leading him to a "conversion" to faith, seems primarily to lead him into a profound awareness of his spiritual disorder. In brilliant contrast, Otway turns from the apotheosis of Carlos and the Queen to the sinking despair of the King (448-456): Th' are gone, th' are gone, where I must n'ere aspire. Run, sally out, and set the World on fire. Alarum Nature, let loose all the winds; Set free those spirits whom strong Magick binds. Let the Earth open all her Sulph'rous Veins, The Fiends start from their Hell and shake their Chains, Till all things from their Harmony decline. And the Confusion be as great as mine. Here I'l lye down, and never more arise.... The King describes the "Confusion" within his own nature in terms that Image an apocalyptic vision of the ultimate disorder which will bring on \

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75 the world's final ruin and conflagration. By means of this contrast between apotheosis and despair, Otway seems to suggest the dual role of providence, guiding through law the obedient to a new heaven and earth, and condamnlng through law, and man*t tragic awar«n»sa of hl» violation of it, the disobedient to final ruin.

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CHAPTER III According to its epilogue, The History and Fall of Caius Marius , Otway's first blank verse tragedy, was "made" when he "Had nought but Drums and Trumpets in his head . / H' had banish'd ' Poetry and all her Charms , / And needs the Fool would be a^ Man at Arms" (8-10) . On February 10, 1678, Otway was appointed, by recommendation of the Earl of * Plymouth, ensign in a newly formed regiment under the command of the Duke of Monmouth, and probably it was while serving with his regiment in Flanders that Otway either designed or wrote the play. When England 2 recalled its troops early in 1679, Otway returned to London with his play possibly yet unfinished, since it was not performed until the 3 autumn of that same year. Caius Marius is significant in Otway's growth as a dramatic poet (it reveals the presence both of an awakened political consciousness and, consequently, of a larger awareness of man's enigmatic nature) but, curiously enough, the play is now read chiefly for reasons which have little to do with any intrinsiq interest in Otway's thought. The play is a partial adaptation of Romeo and Juliet , and the effect which this "arrant pilfering" has had on critics is best illustrated by \ Ghosh, I, 23. \ ^Ibid. 3 The London Stage . I, pt. 1, 281-282, ' 4 Malcolm Elwln, p. 137. 76

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77 George Odell's reaction: "Otway. . .conceived the really astounding idea of grafting the romantic story of Romeo and Juliet on a situation involving strife between Marius and Sylla.... For sheer ingenuity, this device eclipses the glory of any the most venturesome flight conceivable in this domain of adaptation; one can merely admire (in the sense of wonder at) the mental perversity that could plan such a union of seemingly discordant elements. No amount of familiarity with the resulting work can quite dim one's astonishment at it." One readily concedes that the kind of use Otway makes of Romeo and Juliet — the bold intrusion of whole blocks of verbatim dialogue from Shakespeare into another context — is disconcerting, but there can be no mistaking that Otway 's adaptation, as Malcolm Elwin remarks, "has deluded critics into contemptuous condemnation" of a play that has power, craftsmanship, and meaning worthy of serious consideration. In an attempt to offset the uncritical response which Otway 's adaptation seems to illicit, Montague Summers, despite his own disquiet, claims that "Having made due allowances, it is still possible, I think, to regard Caius Marius as an excellent play...," and these allowances, it seems, are as follows: It is probably Impossible for us to appreciate Otway 's Caius Marius as the poet Intended it, and as the spectators of 1679 received it. Yet surely if we can disassociate our minds from so extraordinary a conjunction [between scenes from Romeo and Juliet and those Otway devised], the scenes of the strife between Marius and Sylla, the dramatic flight from Rome, the eerie Shakespeare— From Betterton to Irving (New York, 1963), I, 51-52. Handbook to Restoration Drama , pp. 137-138. The Complete Works of Thomas Otway . I, Ixxv.

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78 apparition of the Syrian Hag, the massacres, and the sudden crashing of despotism..., all form a series of striking pictures drawn with no little power and force of Imagination. ° But as charitable as Summers is in making his own particular allowances, it is difficult to see how he is able to regard Caius Marius as an "excellent play." In effect he argues that Caius Marius is no longer meaningful to the modern reader or that it is so only in some few of its parts, and that we should "disassociate our minds from," that is, ignore those scenes from Romeo and Juliet . The result of such "disassociation" is of course to reduce the play by less than half and render it meaningless. Perhaps the best way to approach the play seriously then is to assume, at least for the moment, its structural integrity and to read it, with its adaptation, as essentially a new creation. By doing so we may be able to come to an understanding, not only of the play's meaning, but even of Otway's bold use of Romeo and Juliet. The significance which Summers admits The History and Fall of Caius Marius probably held for its Restoration audience may reside partly in the play's description of political disorder. Acted in the autumn, 1679, the play appeared during what David Ogg calls "one of the really critical years in the history of England, when the Commons were g fighting a fierce battle against the King...." Ogg states that "Had Ibid .. Ixxii. 9 England in the Reign of Charles II . second ed. (Oxford , 1963), II, 510.

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79 Charles died at any time in 1679 there would probably have been a revolution; this was brought within measurable distance by the sudden and serious illness of the King in August of that year, when the duke of York had to be sent for from his exile; and for a moment it seemed that the monarchy Itself would disappear in the whirlpool by which it was surrounded." It was precisely during this critical time of the King's illness (which Otway (£. 35) makes brilliant thematic use of in his prologue) when England seemed on the verge of chaos that Otway 's politically charged play was performed. Perhaps few plays have been acted at a time more advantageous to their themes. To appreciate the political scope of the play, we should recall that a large part of the difficulty between Charles II and Parliament was due to a fervent republicanism which had steadily spread since his coronation. For even though the Restoration, to all practical purposes, had destroyed the grand design of classical republicans to build republican Rome anew in England, the vision of that design yet lingered to re-emerge in the 1670 's as the "ideal" of those who, for what ever reason, opposed arbitrary monarchy. Not quite two decades, in fact, followed Milton's despairing lament on the eve of Charles's return to the throne — "Where is this goodly tower of a commonwealth which the English boasted they would build to overshadow kings and be another Rome ^" ^Ibid ., p. 591. The classical republicans were such men as Milton, James Harrington, Henry Nevill, and Algernon Sydney who looked to the republics of Athens, Rome, and Venice as models for the government they desired to see established In England. See Zera Fink, The Classical Republicans. second ed. (Evans ton, 1962).

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80 12 in the west?" — before England (in 1678-79) once more seemed headed 13 towards "revolution or republicanism." Zera Fink advances several conjectures in The Classical Republicans to explain why republicanism, after so resounding a defeat in 1660, 14 again became an "issue in English politics." Probably his most significant observation is that Charles II was extremely lenient towards his republican foes: the most notorious were imprisoned; others were allowed to enter obscure retirement; still others were permitted to live abroad. In effect, while scattering his enemies, Charles allowed them to live and thus remain able to renew their teaching should opportunity permit. In addition, Fink observes that such an opportunity seemed destined to arise because of the "failure of the Restoration to produce a really effective attack on the political reputation either of the classical states to which republicans looked or of their supposed modem counterpart." Royalist attacks of course were made, both before and after the Restoration, on the reputation of republican states. These attacks generally employed the charge, which classical histories made obviously iJ.6 true, "that Rome under the republic was torn by internal dissentions.... 12 The Ready and Easy Way , in John Milton. Complete Poems and Major Prose , ed. Merritt Y. Hughes (New York, 1957), p. 884. "Ogg, II, 459. Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 123. '^bid. ' ^ ^Ibid .. p. 124.

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81 Sir Robert Filmer, for instance, describes republican Rome iii Patriarcha as "a sanctuary for all turbulent, discontented and seditious spirits"; and in his ObBervations Upon Atriatotle's Politics Touchine Forms of Government (1652) , he maintained that in the republican interlude between the time of Rome's Kings and Emperors "there lasted a continued strife, between the nobility and Commons...."^® But the classical republicans took the sting from the charge by admitting that it was true and claiming that Rome's disorders were due to defects in the balance of power and not in republicanism. Nevertheless, Otway's Calus Marius is a dramatic portrayal of the internal strife of republican Rome, and (Fink to the contrary) his play does seem to constitute a truly effective attack on republicanism, for, at the center of Rome's disorder and his play, Otway places those passions of hatred, pride, ambition, and fickleness to which human nature seems inevitably prone and which finally make all attempts to achieve a genuine balance of power impossible of fulfillment. But the political scope of the play extends beyond an attack on republican Rome as an "ideal" government to include a more urgent depiction of the disorder within England itself. And indeed the "Rome" Patriarcha and Other Political Works of Sir Robert Filmer. ed. Peter Laslett (Oxford, 1949), p. 89. Patriarcha was first published In 1680, though Laslett states that "It is known that Patriarcha circulated in various manuscript copies after its composition [16A0?] and before its first printing" (p. 44). See p. 3 for Laslett 's dating of the composition. 1 o Ibid ., p. 210. 19 Fink, p. 124.

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82 of the play is a thin disguise for England during 1678-79. Ogg describes, for example, the apprehension felt by many in England during 16781 ' The summer of 1678 abounded in omens that great events were Impending, "There seems a more than usual eoneernment among all men," wrote Andrew Marvell, "as if some great, and I hope good thing were to be expected.". . .In the heavens something uncommon was afoot; for in that year there were three eclipses of the sun and two of the moon, and in April of the preceding year there had appeared a blazing comet, the effects of which were still awaited with apprehension. Astrologers prophesied "frenzies, inflammations and new infirmities". . .as well as "troubles from great men and nobles."^" Similarly, ill omens seem to abound in the play's "Rome." Sulpltius tells Caius Marius (I, 417-425): . . .the Heav'ns Play tricks with us. Our Ensigns, as they stood Display 'd before our Troups, took fire untouch 'd, And burnt to tinder. Three Ravens brought their young ones in the streets, Devouring 'em before the people's eyes. Then bore the Garbage back into their Nests. A noise of Trumpets rattling in the Air Was heard, and dreadfull Cries of dying men. And later two herdsmen discuss the "sad times" (IV, 192-200): Nay, I thought there was no good Weather towards, when my bald-fac'd Heifer stuck up her Tail Eastward, and ran back into a new Quick-set, which I had just made to keep the Swine from the Beans. 2, Herds . And t'other night, as I was at Supper, in the Chlmny-comer, a whole Family of Swallows, that had occupy 'd the Tenement these 20 Ogg, II, 559.

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83 seven years, fell down, Nest and all, into the Porridge-pot, and spoil 'd the Broath. Sad times! sad times, Brother I Anticipating both the public and private tragedy which Caius Marius will bring upon "Rome" and his family, these omens seem also to serve as indications of some divine displeasure with "Rome." But probably of greater consequence to Charles II than the omens of his own day was the "Country Party's" attack on his prerogatives. 21 His reign, as Ogg states, stood "between two worlds": absolutism, on the one hand, where authority resided in the crown; and representation, 22 on the other, where authority resided in Parliament. These two worlds impinged on one another during Charles's reign, and though "by sheer political genius" Charles kept intact (for the most part) his prerogatives, the central conflict he faced was between the rights of 23 the monarchy and the rights of the subject. The result for England was at least a theoretical uncertainty as to where the center of authority lay. The opening speech of Caius Marius , in which Metellus presents the uncertainties plaguing "Rome," just as aptly describes the uncertainties within England (I, 1-6): When will the Tut'lar Gods of Rome awake, To fix the Order of our wayward State, That we may once more know each other; know Th' extent of Laws, Prerogatives and Dues; The Bounds of Rules and Magistracy; who Ought first to govern, and who must obey? ^^Ibid. , p. 445. 22 Ogg states that "It was in 1679 that the word 'representation' first came into general use as a political term..." (ibid., p. 479). 23 Ibid., p. 459. See also pp. 450-460 for Ogg's discussion of Parliament's attack on the various prerogatives of the King.

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84 The factions which historically (and in Otway's play) set the Roman senate, assembly, and consuls at odds with one another succeeded, in the days of Caius Marius, in eliminating the center or at least the balance of authority. And the situation undoubtedly seemed to Otway roughly analogous to the confusion which the strife between Charles II, the House of Lords, and the Commons brought about. These uncertainties become in the play an image of a dark wilderness — Metellus states (I, 1A7-150) that "Rome" has become. Confusion's Night, where in the dark Disorders Of a Divided State, men know not where Or how to walk, for fear they lose their way. And stumble upon Ruine. Yet England's political disorder was equaled by a corresponding moral disorder. It is well-known that Charles II had been bought by Louis XIV to keep England neutral in France's wars. Moreover, large sums of French money were also employed to bribe Parliament. In 1677, Louis sent 200,000 livres to his ambassador in London with instructions "to direct his efforts at embroiling the two Houses so that nothing 24 definite would result from the session." And in 1678, when Charles, having yielded to public pressure to send troops to Flanders (of which Otway was an officer), called Parliament into session to secure appropriations, "Louis... set in motion a vast organization for sowing dissension among his enemies," sending money to his ambassador who, with the help of such men as "Buckingham, Holies, Russell, and... 25 Shaftesbury," handed out bribes. At the same time, Danby, Charles's ^^Ibid., p. 540. "ibid., p. 551.

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85 chief minister, secured sixty thousand pounds "for a campaign of counter-bribery...." Ogg adds that "There were also Dutch and Spanish paymasters, and in consequence only the ultra-scrupulous remained 26 unbrlbed." By 1680, Louis was eminently successful, his only problem being a rather ironic inflation of the price of bribery; as Ogg states: "Louis had begun by bribing the king; he was now spending money In bribing parliament. . .and as each party was subsidized against the other, everybody's terms went up. The money was there, but, not even Barrillon [the French Minister] was sure how it should be spent." But bribery had thus eliminated England "from decisive influence in European 28 politics." And against this background of bribery, the pervasive Imagery of selling in Calus Marlus gains added significance, for while it reflects historically accurate conditions in Rome, it makes the play's "Rome" seem even more like England. Clnna remarks that In "Rome" are yet men able to govern, "Were we not sold to Ruine" (I, 12-17). Metellus replies (17-20): Clnna . there Thou'st hit my Mark: We are to Ruine sold; In all things sold; Voices are sold in Rome : And yet we boast of Liberty. Yet the faction led by Calus Marlus describes Clnna (I, 187-190) as. "ibid. ^'ibld., p. 599. ^"iWd. 29 See W. E. Heltland, Thfe Roman Republic (CambridRe, 1923). II, 220-221.

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...one whose Gain's his God; And to that cursed end he'd sacrifice His Country's Honour, Liberty, or Peace, Nay, had he any, ev'n his very Gods. iut not only were menbera of the English Parliament subject to bribery; the populace as a whole "became accustomed to [the] association of their vote with some return, either in money, or privilege, or (at least) entertainment; and so the expenses of elections increased 30 considerably." An election in Bedfordshire in the spring of 1679, Ogg reports, cost the candidates six thousand pounds. And at Bucking-* ham, "the rival candidates (one of them a peer) danced all night with the wives of the burgesses, and the noble competitor assured his dance 31 partners that his lady would welcome their acquaintance." That Otway was concerned by the implications of this "democratic" process seems implied in Metellus's remark concerning similar situations in "Rome" (I, 20-23): Just Gods! That Guardians of an Empire should be chosen By the lewd noise of a Licentious Rout I , The sturdiest Drinker makes the Ablest Statesman. ^tonlus replies (24-27) : Would it not anger any true-born Roman . To see the giddy Multitude together. Never consulting who 'tis best deserves. But who Feasts highest to obtain their Suffrage? He then describes a recent election in "Rome" where two candidates ^°Ogg, IX, A79. 31 Ibid., Ogg does not identify the location of Buckingham, but It seems quite clear that he refers to the town in the county of Buckinghamshire. ...... \.. -

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87 "stood equal" for the consulship. Each sought to gain the popular vote by bribing the people, who thus were continually "Changing their Voices with their Entertainment," until one candidate thought of a "Stratagem." Irlnglni "A aighfcy V«sa«ll of Falernian Mtn«" Into fcha forum, "H' «e both ends tapt his Butt, and got the Consulship" (I, 28-44). The RMtoratlon audience of 1679 probably saw more in Antonlua's description than merely a case of simple bribery in republican "Rome." II The effect which Otway thus achieves Is like a double exposure: the moral and political disorders in monarchal England may be seen ' through the image of the strife-ridden republic of Rome. It should not matter greatly that the correspondence between the two states is not exact, for as we shall see, Otway 's dramatic argument against republican forms of government rests ultimately on disorders within human nature which make any form of government liable to internal strife. Republican government, however, In his play seems particularly susceptible to human disorder, because it depends entirely for success on a balance of power among the executive, legislative, and popular estates. Polyblus provides the classic text for this dependence; commenting on Lycurgus's legislation creating a mixed state, Polyblus states that "Lycurgus.. .combined together all the excellences and distinctive features of the best constitutions, that no part should become unduly predominant, and be perverted into its kindred vice [i.e., the monarchy becoming absolute, aristocracy becoming an oligarchy, and democracy, a lawless moblj and that, each power being checked by the others, no one part should turn the scale or decisively out-balance the others; but

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88 that, by being accurately adjusted and in exact equilibrium, the whole 32 might remain long steady like a ship sailing close to the wind." The republican ship of Rome sank, however, though seventeenth-century exponents e£ the nixed atate In England were quick to point out that Rome's failure was due to defects in the balancing of power and not in 33 republican theory. But by focusing on the ungovemed passions of Caius Marius, Metellus, and the Roman citizens, Otway suggests impllc34 Itly in Caius Marius (as Indeed Swift later was to do) that a government which depends on an "exact equilibrium" between its estates will fall because the nature of man is prone to excesses of passion which In tuim adversely affect the "scale of power" in government. The opening speech of the play makes it evident that the "temp 'rate poise" of Rome's "Scale of Pow'r" has been lost. Describing the disorders afflicting Rome — disorders which render it difficult to know who "ought first to govern, and who must obey" (I, 6) — Metellus adds (I, 7-11): / 32 The Histories of Polyfaius . tr. Evelyn S. Shuckburgh (London, 1889), I, 467. 33 See Milton, The Ready and Easy Way , p. 890; James Harrington, The Commonwealth of Oceana (London, 1887), pp. 35, 37, 44. 34 Swift states that "it is hard to recollect one folly, infirmity, or vice, to which a single man is subjected, and from which a body of commons, either collective or represented, can be wholly exempt. For, beside that they are composed of men with all their infirmities about them, they have also the ill fortune to be generally led and influenced by the very worst among themselves.... Whence it comes to pass, that in their results we have sometimes found the same spirit of cruelty and revenge, of malice and pride, the same blindness and obstinacy and unsteadiness, the same ungovernable rage and anger, the same injustice, sophistry, and fraud, that ever lodged in the breast of any individual." A Discourse of the Contests and Dissensions Between the Nobles aad Commons in Athens and Rome (1701) , in The Works of Jdnathan Swift , ed. John Nichols (New York, 1812), II, 315.

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89 It was not thus when God-like Sclpto held The Scale of Pow'r; he who with temp 'rate poise Knew how to guide the People's Liberty In its full bounds, nor did the Nobles wrong. For he himself was one In this scene, Metellus and his fellow senators place the blame for 35 Rome's troubles (Otway closely following classical aiithorltles) on the ungoverned ambition of Calus Marius. Six times consul, Marius is, at the time of the play's action, seeking to be consul once more, and Metellus rightly asserts that "Our harass 'd State is Crippled with the weight /Of his Ambition" (I, 56-57). Another senator, Antonlus, bitterly declares, "Ambition, raging like a Daemon in him, /Distorts him to all ugly forms, sh'as need to use" (I, 66-67). And though nofw an old man, "Ev'n Age can't heal the rage of his Ambition" (I, 97). Later, Calus Marius exclaims (I, 428-430; 434-436): Ambition I oh Ambition! if I've done For thee things great and well... shall Fortune now Forsake me? Else why have I thus bustled in the World, Through various and uncertain Fortunes hurl'd, But to be Great, unequall'd, and alone? The state's temperate poise is bound to collapse under the weight of Otway relies chiefly on Plutarch's Life of Calus Marius . but he presents in the play a more balanced view of Marius 's good and bad qualities than is found in Plutarch's hostile account. He may be Influenced by the moderate and more sensible estimate of Marius found in Sallust's The Jugur thine War . Sallust emphasizes the ambitlousness of Marius, but his account (as well as Otway 's play) is more in line with Llvy'a summation of Marius as "a man about whom it would be hard to say, if his vices and virtues are scrutinized together, whether the excellence of his services In war outweighed the damage he did in peace, or the reverse. So true is it that as a soldier he saved the state, and as a civilian first confounded that same state... and in the end made devastating war on It." Livy, tr. Alfred C. Schlesinger, Loeb Clssstcal Library (Cambridge, 1949)7p. 103.

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90 Karlua's anhltlous passion to be absolute In power. Otvay does not, however, fix the blame for Rome's disorder entirely on Calus Marlus. Throughout the play appears the ubiquitous fiekl»n«ii« of the eltlsenn. gway«d by flattering or«tory, catering to bribes, the populace has become a lawless mob, a "riotous unruly Rabble, /That bear down all Authority before 'em" (I, 15-16). And just as Important as a cause for Rome's disorder Is the perverseness which afflicts the senate. The classical historian Sallust records that Metellus (the play's chief representative of the senate), "though eminently distinguished by virtue, honour, and other qualities valued by the good, had yet a haughty and disdainful spirit, the common falling of the nobility." Beneath the civic anxieties expressed in his opening speech lie other, less patriotic promptings. His praise of Scipio as an able consul who maintained the balance of power by guiding the people and not wronging the nobles, "For he himself was one," offers a hint of aristocratic pride which is then picked up and expounded by another senator, Cinna (I, 11-14): He was indeed, A Noble born: and still in Rome there are Most worthy Patrons of her ancient Honour, Such as are fit to fill the seat of Pow'r.... Caius Marlus is a plebeian, and it becomes apparent in the play that the opposition which the senators express towards him is largely prompted by their contempt towards the political aspirations of one who is low born. Discussing Marlus, Metellus tells his fellow senators 36 Thfe jUfgutthlnfe War, in Sallust . Flbtus , and VAllA s Patfetculus , tr, John Selby Watson (London, 1852), p. 155.

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91 a, 54-55; 57-65): Let u6 consult and weigh this subject well. Romans , he's the Thorn that galls us all. ...We're not safe in Mariua . Do I not know his Rise, his low Beginning, From what a wretched despicable Root His Greatness grew? Gods I that a Peasant's Btat, Born In the outmost Cottages of Arpos . And foster'd in a Corner, should by Bribes, By Covetousness, and all the hatefull means Of working Pride, advance his little Fate So high, to vaunt it o're the Lords of Rome I But his appeal to an objective assessment of Calus Marius ("Let us consult and weigh this subject well...") is undercut by the haughty pride of the aristocrat which disdains the low birth of Marius. And it is this pride which leads the senators to reject Caius Marius, with his "111 manners. Ignorance, and all the Ills /Of one base bom" (I, 95-96) and to support for consul Sylla, ".. .a Roman Noble. ../.. .sprung from the ancient Stock /Of the Comellii " (I, 112-114). The blame for Rome's disorder then may not be placed exclusively on any one person or faction: instead, the ambition of Caius Marius, the pride of the nobility, and the fickleness of the multitude seem equally responsible for the loss of equilibrium in Rome. Otway, however, probes beyond the ills which have brought about the collapse of balance in Rome's government to expose a deeper infection that will prove mortal to the republic: the unrelenting hatred that makes reconciliation impossible between the factions led by Metellus and Marius. Metellus bears a large share of the guilt, for at least it was he who was first Infected with hatred. He tells the senators, "I must confess It burthena much my Age, /To aee the Man I hate thua ride my Country" (Ij 79-80), and then relates that In the war "against JuftUrtha ." where

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92 he took Marlus ae one of his lieutenants, " 'Twas there his Pride first &hew*d it self in Actions, /Opprest my Friends, and robb'd me of my Honour" (I, 89-92)^ Metellus here refers to Marius's leaving the war to return to Rome in order to stand for hla first consulship. Winning the election, Marlus returned to Africa and "robb'd" Metellus of his "Honour" by taking away his command. Concerning this Incident, Sallust writes that Metellus "had too little firmness In bearing trouble of mind. His irritation [at Marius's election to consul] was by some Imputed to pride; others said that a noble spirit was wounded by insult.... But to me it is well known that he was more troubled at the 37 honour bestowed on Marlus than at the injustice done to himself...." This resentment of a haughty spirit becomes in the play a hatred which "burthens" his age and burdens Rome as well. Metellus now supports Sylla for consul, not only because of aristocratic pride, but because Sylla "hates Marlus . still has crost /His Pride, and clouded ev'n his brightest Triumphs" (I, 116-117). And later when Sylla leaves Rome to quiet a disturbance in the Roman army at Capua (IV, 127-128), Metellus supports Clnna for consul because he "Hates Marlus toos that, that's the dearest point" (IV, 117). Metellus may bear the larger share of guilt in the hatred between himself and Marlus because twice he rejected Marius's offers of alliance between their two houses through the marriage of young Marlus with Lavlnla, Metellus's daughter (I, 235-238). The extent, moreover, to which hatred dominates his nature is indicated in his willingness to 37 IBld . . p. 171. The play's Marlus also Imputes the beginning of Metellus' & hatred to incidents in the Jurgurthine War which wounded Jtetellus'e prld« (I, 230-235). < <

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93 use Lavlnla as a pawn to crush Marlus. He tells the senators CI, 123-129): This monster Martus . who has us'd me thus, Ev'n now would wed his FanAly with mine, And asks my Daughter for his hated Offspring, But, for my Wrongs, Lavinia shall be Sylla 's. My eldest born, her and the best of all My Fortune I'll confirm on him, to crush the Pride Of this base-bom hot-brain' d Plebeian Tyrant. Later, when Lavinia refuses to marry Sylla, Metellus's reaction exposes the depths of his hatred; demanding that she comply or be cast away, he tells her, "Go, try thy Risk in Fortune's barren Field, / Graze where thou wilt, but think no more of Me, / Till thy Obedience ^ welcome thy Return" (II, 139-141). Hatred for Marius causes him to reduce his daughter to the level of a grazing animal. And Lavinia 's reply to her father's cruel command is an imaginative, yet starkly graphic description of exile (II, 142-158) — a description which convicts her father of a tragic failure of charity. Weighed down with hatred, Metellus's nature is out of balance, and Rome in consequence is made to suffer. But whether less guilty or not, Caius Marius is infected with just as much hatred as Metellus . As with Metellus, Marius 's hatred begins with resentment. Sallust records that, though Marius "had industry, integrity, great knowledge of war, and a spirit undaunted in the field ...was temperate in private life, superior to pleasure and riches, and 36 mhltioua only of glory," he later "suffered hlinself to be actuated ^ ^IBld .. p. 154.

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94 39 ...by ambition and resentment, the worst of counsellors." His resentment, directed In the play towards "Th' Ingratefull Senate,... Metellus Pride" (III, 86), and the fickleness of Rome (I, 191-196), becenefl In time an "Inveterate Hate." But primarily hla hatred centers on Metellus. Reminding his sons that he it was who "brought Jurgurtha chain'd In triumph hither" (I, 172), spent his "years In Toil and cruel War" till he had "brought settled Peace and Plenty home" (I, 17A-176), and crushed the invasion of the Cimbri and Teutones (I, 199-210), Marius blames the "cursed Craft, /Petulant Envy, and malignant Spight" of Metellus (I, 279-280) for causing Rome," now her noblest Fortune is at stake, /And Mithridates Sword is drawn" (I, 275-276), to cast him ^ aside "like some old broken batter'd Shield" (I, 277). And the resentment erupts in hatred (I, 288-291): I hate him worse then Famine or Diseases. Perish his Family, let inveterate Hate Commence between our Houses from this moment; And meeting never let 'em bloudless part. As In the case of Metellus, Otway once more Images the collapse of charity f which hatred causes, through Marius 's reaction to young Marlus's love for Lavlnia (I, 311-317): Hell! love her? Dam her: there's Metellus in her. In every Line of her bewitching Face, There's a Resemblance tells whose Brood she came of. I'd rather see thee in a Brothel trapt. And basely wedded to a Ruffian's Whore, Then thou shouldst think to taint my generous Bloud With the base Puddle of that o' re-fed Gown-man. 39 IMd. , p. 155.

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95 Inveterate In their hatred » Metellus and Calus Marlus have created a situation where reconciliation aeems Infinitely remote; and Instead of a "Scale of Pov'r" there nov Is substituted In Rome Marlus' 8 "Rod of... tavMigs" CI, 2«7) and "Rod of Pow'r" (III, 2).*° 40 The seemingly irreconcilable differences between the factions led by Metellus and Marius may appear emblematically in the first act. The first scene, composed of Metellus and senators, is deliberately contrasted with the second, composed of Marius and his followers, creating a stage emblem of the bitter opposition between the two. It may be worthwhile to note with what deliberate care Otway contrasts the two scenes. In the opening speech (I, 1-6) Metellus expresses a keen desire for order "That we may once more know each other"; but Calus Marlus, in his first speech, implies that the senators are actually engaged In disorder (I, 165-168): There Rome's Daemons go. Like Witches in ill weather, in this Storm And Tempest of the State they meet in Comers, And urge Destruction higher.... Metellus describes Caius Marius as one who "Six times the Consul's Office has... born: /How well, our present Discords best declare" (98-99). Yet Caius Marius praises himself for having "brought settled Peace and Plenty home" (176), while young Marius blames disorder on the "Old gouty Senatours of crude Minds and Brains, /That always are fermenting Mischief up" (181-182) . Cinna is described by Metellus as "Rome 's better Genius" (53), but by Granius as "that Bell-weather of Mutiny" (185) . And though Cinna decries that Rome is "sold to Ruine" (17), Granius condemns him as "one whose Gain's his God" (187). Metellus asserts that Sylla, the senate's champion, once gaining power will "scatter all those Goblins of the night, /Confusion's Night" (146-147). Rut Calus Marlus, who describes him as the senate's "Imp, their dear Famlllat Sylla" (169) , asserts that Sylla "bodes Confusion, Rome, to thee and thine" (263)*

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96 III The political and personal disorders which trouble the play's "Rom«" (and England) have turned the once-flourlshlng state Into an linage of a "wilderness" where peace and plenty no longer exist. The "Divided State" has become "Confuelon's Night," where, ae in a decaying wilderness "men know not where / Or how to walk, for fear they lose their way, /And stumble upon Rulne" (I, 147-150). Metellus thinks of Marius and his followers as "Goblins of the Night" (I, 146) who bring confusion to the "Divided State," and Marius thinks of the senate as "Rome ' B Daemons" who "Like Witches in ill weather, In this Storm /And Tempest of the State... meet in Corners, /And urge Destruction higher" (I, 165-168). Similar imagery occurs when Metellus, finding Lavinla awake late at night asks (II, 10-13): Why up at this unlucky time of Night, When nought but loathsome Vermin are abroad. Or Witches gathering pois'nous Herbs for Spells By the pale light of the cold waning Moon? There may be in his question a faint reminder of the seditious activities of Marius 's "Goblins of the Night," but taken together these descriptions, mingling public and private disorders, image "Rome" as a morally-decaying "wilderness." Other Instances occur in the play where characters reflect a "wilderness" Image. Metellus says of Marius, "I never lov'd his rough untoward Nature, /And wonder such a Weed got growth in Rome" (I, 50-51). Shifting his metaphor, he describes Harlus as a "Thorn" (I, 55), and then aeema to image him as a tree whose greatness sptings from an I Insignificant beginning; "Do I not know his Rise, his low Beginning, / \

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97 From what a wretched despicable Root /His Greatness grew?" (I, 58-60). And trtien Marlus Is defeated In battle, his strength exhausted, he exclaima (III, 424-427): • Is this all That's left of Marlus ? the old naked Trunk Of that tall Pine that was? Away, ye Shrubs, Ye clinging Brambles; do not clog me thus.... Later In the play, Lavlnla's description of a "tall, young, slender, well-grown Oak" (IV, 313) casts a reflective light on earlier descriptions of certain of "Rome's" youth as being "Tall wild young men" (I, 143), and of one whom Sulpltlus kills as being a "gay tall / Young thing" (I, 363-364)~a8 If they too are Imaged as trees In "Rome's" "wilderness." But perhaps the most pervasive "wilderness" Image Is that of men described as animals (Marlus describes humankind (IV, 328) as "The Nobler sort of Beasts entltl'ed Men"). Marlus is a "Havocker, / That with his Kennell of the Rabble hunts /Our Senate into Holes, and frights our Laws" (I, 119-121); Sulpltlus is a "mad wild Bull" (I, 135^ senators are "Idzy Droans that feed on others Labours" (I, 179); Clnna, a "Bell-weather of Mutiny" (I, 185), a "Fly" buzzing about "itching Ears" to Infect with "Rancour and Sedition" (III, 74-77). Metellus is "that old barking Senate's-Dog" (I, 281), and the citizens of "Rome" are bees whom Granius (Marlus 's other son) would like "Driven by Sulphur from their Hives" (I, 265-266), or sheep who "break their Herd, / When the Wolf's out [Marlus], and ranging for his Prey" (II, 495-496). Instances of this kind of Imagery (by no means exhausted In this brief listing) add considerably to the description of a "wUdemess" where moral disorder has destroyed the peace and plenty of the state.

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98 It is, moreover, through the Implicit imagery of a storm whose thunder and lightning devastate the "wilderness'' that we are able to move towards an understanding of the play's timeless significance, transcending both the tine and place of Rone or England. At the beginning of the play, Metellus asks: "When will the Tut'lar Gods of Rome awake, /To fix the Order of our wayward State" (I, 1^2). But the Gods are awake (Hetellus's arrogant impiety to the contrary), and the play ultimately concerns divine retribution which bursts like a storm upon human folly. At the close of Act II, after the first battle described In the play between the two warring houses of Marius and Metellus, Marlxis proclaims (506-512): Horrour, Confusion, and inverted Order, Vast Desolation, Slaughter, Death and Ruine Must have their Courses e're this Ferment settle. "Thus the Great Jove above, who rules alone, "When men forget his Godlike Pow'r to own, "Uses no common means, no common ways, "But sends forth Thunder, and the World obeys. The distinctive typography of the last four verses lends an important ambiguity to the speech. Assuming that they are spoken by Marius and in character (which seems likely) , they reflect the profound impiety with which Marius identifies himself with Jove and conceives of his war on "Rome" as a "divine" storm to bring horror and ruin to those who fail to recognize his own "Godlike Pow'r." But the somewhat gnomic quality of the last four verses, indented as they are and set off by quotation marks, lends an air of uncertainty as to whether or not these verses should be understood exclusively as being apoken by Marine in character. In other words, it seems that momeatArily Otway may intrude to speak directly, apparently to provide

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99 his audience with a perspective for understanding the meaning of events in the play's "Rome." And from this vantage point, the ambition, pride, fickleness, And, most of all, hatreds that have made "Rome" a "wilderneas." may be seen as calling forth flhe "Thunder" of a Jove whom men seem to have forgotten. The ambiguity which Otway builds into Marius's •peach allows us to see the Impiety and ambitious folly of Marlua as being Jove's retributive thunder both upon the ills of Marius and upon the evils of the state: by providential design, human evil thus becomes its own Judge and executioner. Lucan records in Pharsalia a similar, more explicit view of Marius as an instrument of divine providence. He tells of a Cimbrian (a member of a race that Marius decimated) who enters a dungeon where Marius, in exile after his defeat by Sulla, is hiding; intent upon murdering Marius, the Cimbrian sees a "great light" illuminating the darkness and hears a "fearful voice" cry: "Do not strike off that head, Cimbrian I Marius is destined to ruin a great many more men before he dies himself; let him be I Ay, if you wish to be avenged on the old man who massacred your people, spare his life! Divine providence, guided by wrath rather than loving-kindness, has preserved this savage as the instrument for Rome's destruction." We should maintain, however, a careful balance between viewing the ills of Marius serving as divine retribution upon "Rome," and those ills serving as divine retribution on Marius himself. This balance seems suggested in Metellus's description of Marius as "the Scourge /Of Truth and Justice, and the Plague of Rome" (III, 357358), for though he means that Marius is the destruction of truth. 41 tr, Robert Graves (Baltimore, 1957), p. 49.

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100 Justice, and "Rome," Ironically he describes his dual role. As the "Scourge /Of Truth and Justice," Marius la both their "disease" (see OED), and their "instrument" (OED) for divine chastisement; and as the "Plague of Rome" he is both emblematic of "Rome 'a" disease and Rome's destroyer. In the play's Imagery of a storm, the paradox of this dual role may appear more readily. In Act I, offended by the attempts of MetelluB and the senate to cast him aside, Marlus prays (282-284): Stake me. Just Gods, with Thunder to the Earth, Lay my gray Hairs low in the Cave of Death, Rather then live in mem'ry of such Shame. ' His prayer Is answered In Act V where in the tomb of the Metellll he Is forced by the "Thunder" of divine retribution to see the evil of his ambition and hatred. Unable to accept with patience, humility, or charity the "Shame" of withdrawing from political life, Marlus is subjected by his own prldeful ambition to the divine wrath of the Thunderer. Yet at the same time, as an instrument of divine Wrath against "Rome," Marlus is, in this sense, the very image of that wrath: as he prepares to enter "Rome" to destroy it, ambassadors from the senate approach/ his camp to sue for peace, but are dubious of their success, for, observing Marlus, one remarks, "on that Brow there still appears a Cloud /That never rose without a following Storm" (V, 50-51). And on the outskirts of the city, Marlus tells Sulpltius "Whom-e're I smile on let thy Sword go through" (V, 93), then describes his coming destruction of the city in terms of a storm ravaging the vilderness (98-101) :

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101 Re't. with me rather (Gods,) as Storms let loose. That rive the Trunks of tallest Cedars down. And tear from Tops the loaded pregnant Vine, And kill the tender Flow'rs but yet half blown. As he ravages the city, the cltlsens pray to the Cods for pltyj "Step, atop the Fury of this cruel Tyrant; / Or send your Thunder forth to strike us d«ad" (V, 161-162); but Marlus Is Jove's thunder sent to blast the "wilderness" of "Rome" where men have forgotten "his Godlike Pow'r." Though "Rome's" divided state is ironically united by Marius (and providence) into "one noisome House of slaughter" (V, 159), providence functions in the play in still a different way to bring Marius and Metellus into judgment. Following her father's demand that she marry Sylla, Lavinia (echoing Shakespeare's Juliet) meditates (II, 174-177): Is there no Pity sitting in the Clouds That sees into the bottom of my Grief? Alas I that ever Heav'n should practise Stratagems Upon so soft a Subject as my self I But Jove (as Lucan says) is guided now by wrath, having put aside his loving-kindness, and both Lavinia and young Marius are destined to play tragic roles in Jove's "Stratagems." Their tragedy lies primarily In the futility of their love; when young Marius tells her of his love, she replies (II, 299-301): Oh Marius I vain are all such Hopes and Wishes. The hand of Heav'n has thrown a Bar between us. Our Houses Hatred and the Fate of Rome . . . . Separated by the "inveterate Hate" between their fathers and the fate ^idilch that hatred holds for Rome, they also are barred from happiness by the retribution which their fathers* hatred calls forth from Jove

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1(J2 ("Bar" In the above lines suggesting the lightning bolt thrown by Jove). At other times in the play Lavlnla seems aware of some divine warning againat the consummation of their love, warnings conveyed by the Imagei of lightning. When Metellus, for example, utters a curs* upon Lavlnla and whomever she should marry for refusing to marry Sylla (II, 165-169), ftha rapltas 0170-172): What have you done? alas I Sir, as you spoke, Methought the Fury of your words took place, ,' And struck my Heart, like Lightning, dead within me. And later, when she and young Marius have pledged their love, Lavlnla (again In language borrowed from Romeo and Juliet ) says (II, 329-331): I'm hardly satisfy 'd with this night's Contract: It seems too rash, too unadvls'd and sudden. Too like the Lightning.... But despite these inward warnings, Lavlnla marries young Marius, and waiting for her wedding night, Lavlnla, hearing the distant clamor of swords, prays, "Guard my Love, ye Gods, /Or strike me with your Thunder when he falls" (III, 350-351). In Act V, her prayer seeas answered, for both Lavlnla and young Marius fall as victims to the "thunder" of Jove's wrath against "Rome." But though divine pity is withheld from the two lovers, they yet become part of Jove's "Stratagems." For through their love for each other, Lavlnla and young Marius achieve a "balance" between strength and pliancy whijch "inveterate Hate" has caused their fathers to lose. And this, "balance" serves in the play as an emblem of the way by which "Rome" could be saved from civil war. But since Calus Marius and Itetellus reject the "balance" their children attain, that "balance"

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103 serves ultimately as judgment upon the "imbalance" of the two fathers. Regarding young Marlus, Otway may have taken a hint from Plutarch's rather hostile descrtptlbn: "At first. Being esteemed resolute and daring against hisenemies, he was named the son of Mars, hut afterwards, hlff actions betraying his contrary disposition, he was called the son of Venus." At any rate, the play's" young Marlu» is m "son of Arms" Cm, 91) who Cas Lavlnla says) Is "by his Father's Nature rough and fierce" (II, 189). But this rough strength Is made pliant by his love for Lavlnla; he tells Calus Marlus Cl, 303-307): Must I resolve to hate Metellus Race, Yet know Lavlnla took her Being thence? Lavlnla! Oh I there's Muslck In the Name, That softnlng me to Infant Tenderness, Makes my Heart spring like the first leaps of Life. The Inflexibility, however, of Marlus 's hatred and ambition makes him unwilling to accept his son's love for Metellus 's daughter, and he demands that he "scorn" her "like a Slave" (I, 310). Young Marlus replies (1, 333-336): My Soul is all Lavlnla' s, now she's flxt Firm in my Heart by secret Vows made there. You'd have me hate her. Can my Nature change? His nature, of course, has already altered, and the son of Mars is balanced by the son of Venus; the warrior's strength by the pliant tenderness of a child. But in a state hostllely divided between two warring houses. 42 PlUtareh^^'s Lives . Th6 TtSftslAtlon CSlled Drtd6ri's« corrected and revised by A. H. Clough (New York, n.d.), I, 428.

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104 loyalties are inflexibly determined, and young Marius« with hla now pliant nature y is caught in a dileinma. In th6 garden scene (appropriated from Romeo and Juliet ) , Lavinia, overheard by young Mariu8» •xelaiBS (II, 267-268; 272; 279-281): Mdrlus, Marlus l ... Deny thy Family, renounce thy Namei 'TIs but thy Name that is my Enemy. Marlus, lose thy Name, And for that Name, which is no part of Thee, Take all LaVlnla. Marlus replies, "Call me but Thine, and Joys will so transport me, / I shall forget my self, and quite be chang'd" (282-283). If young Marlus should deny his name and family, pliancy would become weakness. At the same time, he is challenged by his father to the opposite extreme: offended by his son's love for Lavinla, he tells him, "inglorious Boy, behold my Face no more, / Till thou'st done something worthy of my Name" (I, A12-A13) . When young Marlus misses a battle because of Lavinia, Caius Marlus orders him to "Call me by some other Name" than father (III, 197-203): Disgrace me not: I'm Marlus ; And surely Marlus has small right in Thee. Would Sylla 's Soul were thine, and thine were his. That he, as Thou hast done, now Glory calls. Might run for shelter to a Woman's Arms, And hide him in her Bosome like a Babe. Yet by not renouncing his name nor rejecting Lavinia, young Marlus walks a tightrope between these two extremes, maintaining a precarious balance bi£tveen the pliancy of love and the strength of the soldier. LavlAlji also attains a similar "balance" 1ft her nature. In .-.. . ^ .V •.. . . • • \

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105 developing her character, Otway emphasizes her gentleneoas 'Is she not," young Marius asks Clj 318-322), As; harmless as the Turtle of the Woods? Fair as the Summer-Beauty of the Fields? As opening Flow'rs untainted yet with Winds, The pride of Nature, and the Joy of Sense? Her feminine gracefulness and beauty here is imaged as a meadow of peace and plenty, and as such it both contrasts with and complements manly strength and ambition imaged as a soaring pine or cedar (cf. Ill, 426; V, 99). Yet gentle and pliant as she is, Lavlnia gathers strength through her love for young Marius to withstand her father's tyrannical demand that she marry Sylla. She even has courage to tell Metellus her lover's name by playing ambiguously on the fact that father and son bear the same name (II, 120-126). Furthermore, she has the courage to marry secretly young Marius, and, after her wedding night, to follow him into exile. As she prepares to go, she describes herself as "Fond as a Child, and resolute as Man" (IV, 112). As with young Marius, Lavlnia achieves a "balance" between child-like pliancy and mature resolution. In other terms taken from the play, the "balance" the lovers attain may be imaged in a different fashion. Recalling Marius 's metaphoric description of his ravaging of Rome — "Be't with me rather (Gods,) as Storms let loose, /That rive the Trunks of tallest Cedars down, / And tear from Tops the loaded pregnant Vine" — it is possible to Image the "balance" as being like the "Marriage" between the pliant, fertile "Vine" which vlnds about the "top" of the ambitious and strong

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106 "cedar." Each of the two lovers experiences a "marriage" of these opposltea within their natures, and Indeed Lavlnla's, marriage to Marlus Is hut a larger emblem of the union between pliant tenderness and strength. And it is through their marriage that Otway mak«a perfectly clear the way by which Rome could be saved. Young Marlus tells Lavlnla'v nurae that "this day.../ When the unhappy Discords first took flame / Betwixt my Father and the Senate" (III, 129-131) he and Lavlnla were married; the same day In which the houses of Metellus and Marlus conflict In battle Is also the day In which those houses are united In love by their children. The contrast Is significant, for love has transformed for young Marlus the house of Metellus Into the "Mansion of Lavlnla" (H, 212); after his betrothal to her, he describes her and her house as "the blessed Mansion of my Joy" (III, 155); and Lavlnla describes him and his house as "the Mansion of a Love" (III, 288). In other words, while Metellus and Marlus pursue a path of "inveterate Hate" which turns their houses Into warring factions, those same houses are "merged" Into one mansion of love by Lavlnla and young Marlus. In this connection, we may recall Christ's words "In my Father's house are many mansions" (Jn. 1A:2), which proclaim the unity love occasions amidst diversity in the Kingdom of God, and the implications of this 43 The vine wound about the tree is a proverbial emblem of marriage between man and woman. See Ovid, Metamorphoses (xiv, 11.661 ff), tr. Rolfe Humphries (Bloomington, 1958), p. 358; Milton, Paradise Lost (V, 215 ff), in John Milton , ed. Hughes, p. 307. Rosemond Tuve states that the cedar is symbolic of ambition, in Allegorical Imagery CPrlnceton, 1966), p. 10. 44 See St . Augustine , Lectures or Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John, tr. James Innes (Edinburgh, 1884) II, 244. The note on John XIV, 2, In th6 Glossa Ordenarla . PL, 114, col. 407, is as follows: "Ift d6mo. etc. Domus Del, templum Del, regnum Del. Regnum caelorun, sunt homines justl. In qulbus sunt multae differentiae Inter se. Et hae sunt manslones Ip slue domus."

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107 kind of unity for the political realms of "Rome" and England should be apparent. But obdurate In their pride, strength, ambition, and hatred, Meeellua and Marlus lead Rone away from possible redemption and towards destruction. Of the two men, Otway images only Marlus as being in the least susceptible to flexible attitudes or a pliant tenderness. He it is who first sought a merger, through the marriage of the two children, between his and Metellus's house. And it is Marlus who confesses to "a tender Foolishness" which "May sometimes get the better of my Rage" (III, 82-83) i though he asks Sulpitlus to help suppress it. Later he saves from death a young child (though he kills the grandfather) because (as he says) "I've a Softness in my heart pleads for him" (V, 234). But these are only brief instances of pliancy, and for the most part Marlus, like Metellus, is inflexible. Yet it may be because of the potential pliancy within Marlus that he is granted in the play a final opportunity to attain the "balance" his son has achieved, though the probability of his doing so seems remote; and as it turns out, the opportunity, like the love between his son and Lavlnla, serves only to damn him further for his "inveterate Hate." After defeat in battle, the "tall Pine that was" now blasted to an "old naked Trunk" (III, 425-426), Marlus is exiled from Rome. Stripped of power, humbled in ambition, he is left only with his hatred, and, kneeling in prayer with his sons and followers, he "devotes" the city AS a sacrifice to that hatred (III, 467-471) : ...By all the Destinies, By all the Furies, and the Fiends that wait Abou.t the Throne of Hell, and by Hell's King, He^ll bring Destruction to this cursed City; Let not one Stone of all her Tow^'rs stand safe.

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, 108 But during hla exile In the wilderness, Marlus's inflexible hatred is given by providence an occasion to soften and change into charity. Passing over a desolate stretch of earth where the sun's heat relentlessly tonnents hlra (symbolle perhaps of the Inward fires of hatred which consume him), Marius comes upon a green wood (IV, 236-2A3) , where, stretching himself upon the ground (287), he pleads for "cooling Herbs,/ And Water to allay my ravenous Thirst" (288-289) . But having "not one Drachma to buy Food," he tells his sons, "Must ve then starve? no, sure the Birds will feed us" (292-293) . ' His reference to being fed by birds sets the scene for the act of providence which next occurs, being an allusion to T. Kings 17:1-6 where Elijah in the wilderness is fed by ravens sent by God. Lavinia then enters (having followed young Marius into exile), bearing food and water, and Marius exclaims (340-342): What? all this from Thee, Thou Angel, whom the Gods have sent to aid me? I don't deserve thy Bounty. Again the allusion seems to be to Elijah who, in another wilderness scene, driven this time by Jezebel into exile, is providentially cared for by an angel (I Kings 19:4-8); and the significance of these two allusions is their implication that providence now offers to Marius a way to redemption. For the moment, humbly admitting that he does not "deserve" her "Bounty," Marius softens in his hatred and tells her, "Come near — /And let me bless thee, though thy Name '6 my Foe" (33^-335}. Lavinia then offers hlffi food and water (336-340; 342-344} : .

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109 Alas! my Father, you seem much oppreflt : Will you partake such Fruits as I have gather 'd? Taste, Sir, this Peach, and this Pomegranate; hoth are Ripe and refreshing. . . * Here, Sir, ' mora. I found a Crystall Spring too In the Wood, And took some Water; 'tis most soft and cool. In a scene whose design is symbolic (accounting perhaps for the almost "ritual" flatness of diction), Otway probably chose with some care the offering Lavinia makes. The pomegranate, for instance, is an ancient and traditional symbol for the "reconciliation of the multiple and 45 diverse within apparent unity," and it may signify for Caius Marlus the potential grace to unite divided Rome into one hbuse of peace. Moreover, the peach, in Christian art, contrasts symbolically with the 46 apple of Eden to signify salvation, and the water from the "Crystall Spring" may recall the "water of life, clear as crystal" of Revelation 22tl. As well as physical restoratives, the fruit and water seem symbolic of the restoratives of grace which providence now extends to Marlus in his exile. But Marius is quickly brought back to the fact of his exile by a command from a neighboring landlord to "depart this place." In despair, he exclaims, "How am I falleni" (IV, 392), and his cry seems more of an Implied question than an exclamation, for Marius is near the time when he must choose the course of his future actions. " Soft Muslck" is heard by Marius, and with the entrance of Martha, a " Syrian Prophetess" 45 Juan E. Clrlot, A Dlfctldriary of Symbols, tr. Jack Sage (New York, 1962), p, 249. 46 George Wells Ferguson, Signs and Symbols In Christian Art (New York, 1954), p. 46.

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no who once served Marlus till banished from Rome, the stage seems to be set for some divine revelation. She tells him that " Rome is once more thine" (IV, 410) and that Cinna, forced out of his consulship, is coming with an army for Marius to lead "baek with Terraur to that City" (IV, All-413). He asks her to "Speak on," whereupon she offers to "relieve thy wearied Eyes with Sleep, /And chfear thee in a Dream with promis'd Fate" (A17-418) . Marius sleeps, and spirits perform a dance. In a context of supernatural music and dance, the sleep which Martha induces would appear to be some revelatory trance^ but Otway does not describe the dream; instead, he provides only a brief glimpse of its content, but enough perhaps to allow us to estimate Its significance. In his sleep, Marius speaks out (IV, 424-427): No more, I'll hear no more. Metellus live? no, no; He dies, he dies. We may infer from this exclamation that Marius is "instructed" by the dream to use charity towards Metellus when he enters Rome — to soften, in other words, the inflexibility of his "inveterate Hate." But Marius rejects the revelation of his dream, choosing to follow the way of hatred, and Rome's fate is sealed. Entering the woods with his army, Cinna greets Marius (IV, 457-459): Marius , be our Hearts united ever. To carry Desolation into Rome. And waste that Den of Monsters to the Earth. Lavinia is "born back with force to Rome . / Ry Ruffians headed by her Father's BULnsmen" (IV, 477-478), Martha is not heard from again, and the opportuiiity providence offers Marius for redemption is utterly lost,

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Ill Marlua Is. fallen into tragedy. The play novr moves swiftly to the tragic results of Marlus's choice. In order to escape a forced marriage to Sylla, Lavinia drinks a potion which the priest gives her that will counterfeit death, and she is placed in the tomb of the Metellii; Caius Marius Qike a storm) enters Rone to devastate It; and while Rome Is being turned into "one noisome House of slaughter," young Marius, ill informed about Lavinia 's "death," makes his way to the tomb of the Metellii. He has bought poison from an apothecary whose shop (the description is borrowed from Shakespeare) is imaged as a sterile and decayed wilderness (,V, 280-285): ...in his needy Shop a Tortoise hung, An Allegator stufft, and other Skins Of ill-shap'd Fishes: and about his Shelves A beggarly account of empty Boxes, Green earthen Pots, Bladders, and musty Seeds, Remnants of Packthread, and old Cakes of Roses.... Mindful of the play's image of Rome as a wilderness, the description of the shop takes on a larger metaphoric significance, for in reality the barren desolation and savagery of a divided state finally "poisons" young Marius. Arriving at the tomb, young Marius unwittingly kills the priest who could have properly informed him about Lavinia 's "death," then tears down the side of the tomb, that "detestable Maw, thou Womb of Death, / Gorg'd with the dearest Morsell of the Earth" (V, 347-3A8) . But upon seeing Lavinia, this particular "Cave of Death" is transformed for him into a "gorgeous Palace" (V, 351), a poignant reminder of a happy union of the two houses into a mansion of love that once seemed possible. Now, however, the events of this final scene between Lavinia And young Marius are filled with frustration and a strange Imbalance.

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112 He entera the tomK of the "dead" Lavinia, drinks poison, embraces her, and fixesT on her lipa "the Seal of an eternall Contract" (V, 363) — only then to have her awaken in his arms, She thinks he has come to take her from the tomb, but he believes she is sent from paradise to "redeem me from the vale of Torments" and bear him "to those Hills of Joys" (V, 3e8'-389} . Each speaks In greeting, unaware it is their parting. He dies, and only then does she discover the truth. The failure in communication and the striking reversal in situation where the scene begins with the "dead" Lavinia held by Marius and ends with the dead Marius held by Lavinia creates an illusion of imbalance and frustration* For this reason (not, as Ghosh would have, an appeal "merely to cheap emotion") , Otway departs from Shakespeare in having Lavinia awake before young Marius dies: in a state where government, community, and families are dominated by inflexible hatreds, all balance — even that between the innocent — is finally destroyed. With the death of young Marius, the "gorgeous Palace" becomes once more a "Cave of Death." Caius Marius enters, pursuing Metellus, whom he kills as Lavinia watches. Recognizing her, he seems ashamed and tries to leave (V, 417-420), but seizing his sword, she forces him to confront her and to remember the charitable acts she performed for him in the wilderness; he replies (V, 439-444): ...thou wert next the Gods my onely Comfort. When I lay fainting on the dry parcht Earth, Beneath the scorching heat of burning Noon, Hungry and dry, no Food nor Friend to chear me! Then Thou, as by the Gods some Angel sent. Cam' St by, and in Compassion didst relieve me. *^Gho8h, I, 47.

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113 The memory of that charity and compassion now returns In Judgment on hlK "Inveterate Hate." Lavlnla says (V, A48-450) : And see hov well I am at last rewarded. All could not balance tot the short-term'd Life Of one Old man. . . . Sword In hand, like an emblem of divine justice, Lavlnla damns Calus Marlus for the imbalance between strength and pliant charity which his hatred caused. In her despair, Lavlnla thrusts the sword, which had killed her father, into her breast (V, 454-455), but it is Marlus who suffers the wound (V, 458-461): Nay, now thou hast outdone me much in Cruelty. Be Nature's Light extinguisht; let the Sun Withdraw his Beams, and put the world in Darkness, Whilst here I howl away my Life in Sorrows. For Calus Marlus, both the natural light of the sunlit world and the greater light of grace seem extinguished in the storm of divine judgment that falls on him. Spiritually dead, he symbolically buries himself with his fallen enemy (V, 462-464): Oh I let me bury Me and all my Sins Here with this good Old man. Thus let me kiss Thy pale sunk Cheeks, enbalm thee with my Tears. Turning then to his son, he damns himself in the recognition of what might have been had charity softened his tmyielding hatred (V, 465-468) : My Son, how cam'st thou by this wretched End? Va might have all bin Friends, and in one House Enjoy^'d the Blessings of eternal Peace. But oh.1 my cruel Nature has undone me.

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, . 114 . . I ', '.. 'i' . ' : ' ' ' ' ' ! The "one House" which the marriage of Lavlnla and young Marlus had Imaged la now only a vision from the Irredeemable past whose recollection stands In judgment of Calus Marlus. As ff addressing directly the Restoration audience of 1679, Calus Marlus states the bitter lesson his tragedy has taught (V, A77-A80): Be wam'd by me, ye Great ones, how y 'embroil Tour Country's Peace, and dip your Hands In Slaughter. Ambition Is a Lust that's never quencht. Grows more Inflam'd and madder by Enjoyment. In a final Image, Calus Marlus appears as an emblem of the ship of "Rome," perhaps the ship of man, certainly the ship of fools whose course is set by inflexible ambition and "inveterate Hate" — "A hopelesse Vessel bound for the dark Land /Of loathsome Death, and loaded deep with Sorrows" (V, 482-483) . \ •

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CHAPTER IV In late February, 1680, approximately four months after the first performance of Calus Marius . Otway added to the repertory of the Duke's Theatre a tragedy that was to hold the stage for nearly a century and a 2 half. With the exception of Venice Preserv'd . successive generations who either read or saw The Orphan performed agree with the praise which the play originally received and which Otway records In his dedication: "the World has been so kind to me to Judge of this Poem... as the most 3 pardonable fault which I have made In Its kind...." It was not until the nineteenth century that critics began to cast a cold eye on the play, though they still maintained It was, next to Venice Preserv'd . I A the best of Otway s tragedies. Samuel Johnson earlier had said that The Orphan 's "whole power is upon the affections; for it is not written with much comprehension of thought, or elegance of expression" — though he adds, "But, if the heart is Interested, many other beauties may be wanting, yet not be missed." Ghosh, I, 47; the London Stage . I, pt. 1, 285. 2 See "Appendix B: List of Performances," in Aline Mackenzie Taylor, Next to Shakespeare (Durham, 1950), pp. 286-293, for performance dates of The Orphan . 3 Ghosh, II, 3. 4 See Taylor for a summary of nineteenth-century criticism of The Ofphan . particularly the remarks made by Saintsbury (p. A), A. W. Ward (p. 8), Edmond Gosse (pp. 8-9). Livea of the Eiigllsh Poets (London, 1954), I, 143. 115

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.116 Intended primarily to be complimentary, his remarks nevertheless seem responsible for the kind of critical response the play now receives; the affective power of The Orphan merely hides Otway's lack of Ideas. Thua Allnc Mackenzie Taylor, in her otherwise admirable stage history of The Orphan and Venice Preserv'd . bows "before Dr. Johnson's wisdom" and admits "that Otway is muddle-headed, perhapa even ahallow." Clifford Leech asserts that Otway is "bent on exciting the kind of emotion that depends on the discouragement of thought," and claims that in The Orphan Monlmia "may innocently be led to disaster, but there is no philosophical Implication. . .no hint that the sad story presented is evidence of something wrong in the universal frame of things." More recently, John Loftis follows suit by remarking that in The Orphan "our attention is likely to be less fully engaged because the abundant pathos o is unrelieved by the play of ideas." Bonamy Dobr^e stands almost alone among modern critics in his particular estimation of Otway's art; concerned with poets who "think that poetry can be made out of the emotions alone," Dobr^e states that "Otway never fell into that error; he was always striving for the marrlage of thought and feeling which produces good poetry...." And here, if nowhere else, let it be said that such a marriage does occur in The Taylor, p. 13. I am in general disagreement with Taylor's analysis of the play. Shakespeare's Tragedies and Other Studies in Seventeenth Century Drama (London, 1950), pp. 107; 106. An example of Leech's puzzling and seemingly Irresponsible criticism is his statement that in their tragedies "Dryden plays with nostalgic fancies; Otway begs us to smoke hashish with him" (p. 186). 8 The Politics of Drama in Augustan England (Oxford, 1963), p. 19. 9 Restoration Tragedy (Oxford, 195A) , p. 64.

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117 Orphan . With Its body of meaning properly recognized and understood, The Orphan Is a play whose affective and Intellectual contents are Inseparably linked In a common affirmation that something Is tragically wrong, if not "In the universal frame of things," at least in the nature of man. For the principal characters seem to "fall" from an appearance o£ pe«c« and harmony Into a condition where fraud and force are weapons In a "war" of brother against brother; a "fall" which in the play seems analogous to Adam's fall from a state of peace; a "fall" caused by a radical fault in the nature of man. There Is a certain placeless and timeless quality about Acasto's estate. The statement of setting, at the end of the list of personae, locates his dwelling somewhere In Bohemia, but nowhere in the play Itself Is there any reference to this locality. Landscape and scene are generalized to the extent that a reader finds It difficult to determine with certainty even the particular dramatic setting where characters meet and events occur. Setting thus seems to fade into an indistinct background, with the Immediate effect of thrusting the characters outward towards the reader. The temporal setting is similarly obscure, for though the present moment Is emphatic in the play (as it always is in the experience of man) , all of the human past seems to intrude upon the present. Characters at different moments of the pla/s temporal present -seem allusively to resemble Adam and Eve, Jacob and Eeau, the bride and bridegroom of the Song of Solomon, even Oedipus and

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118 Jocasta. The general effect of the play's uncertain physical and temporal setting is an impression on the reader that the drama which unfolds before him may occur anjwhere in the present life of man — whenever and wherever that present may be. With the obscuring of local and temporal setting, greater emphasis accns placed In the play on the Interdependence between character and dramatic situation. We learn from the first of the play that Acasto's retirement to his country estate is a voluntary exile from a society that has treated him wrongfully; for after "Long, hard, and faithful Toyle" in the King's wars had left on his "old body... the marks... /Of many wounds" (I, 21; II, 140-lAl) , he expected in recompense "Places in Honour, and employment high," but Instead "A huffing shining flat'rlng cringing Coward, /A Canker-worm of Peace was rais'd above him" (I, 2224). Embittered by this humiliating insult, he turns his back on "pompous pow'r, /The luxury of Courts, [and] wealth of Cities" (II, 108109) to seek in retirement the simple life of peace and virtue. But above all, in his estate remote from society, Acasto seeks to impose on his sons a virtuous life. Having "ta'ne himself a surfeit of the World," he "cries it is not safe" that they "should taste it" (I, 108-109), and thus refuses (as Paulino says) to "permit his Sons/ To launch for Fortune in th' uncertain World" (I, 64-65). His own bitter experience with "both Courts, and Camps" (I, 67-69), Where Dilatory Fortune plays the Jilt With the brave noble honest gallant man, To throw her self away on Fools and Knaves, 10 These allusions will be isolated and their significance discussed later in the chapter.

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119 urges him to warn his sons against society's treachery and deceit. The play, in fact, is interlaced with his admonitions: at court, dissemhllng flattery is "next to mony current there, /To be seen daily in as many forms, /As there are sorts of Vanities, and Men" (II, 20-22); and at the camps, "Where Honour ought to have the fairest play," there is only "Corruption, envy, discontent, and Faction, /Almost in every Band" (II, 58; 60-61). But the fault which "grates" most on Acasto's "Nature" (II, 158) Is the abuse of speech, the subject of his most persistent warning. In particular, Acasto warns against flattery, a seeming-kindness which often conceals ill motives; he tells Castalio (II, 15-19): No flattery. Boy! an honest man can't live by't. It is a little sneaking Art, which Knaves Use to Cajole and soften Fools withall; If thou hast flatt'ry in thy Nature, out with't.... He also seeks to correct those who, as Thomas Hobbes says, "use words metaphorically; that is, in other sense than that they are ordained for; and thereby deceive others." On one occasion he tells Chamont (IV, 303-308): You talk to me in Parables, Chamont . You may have known that I'm no wordy man. Fine Speeches are the Instruments of Knaves Or Fools, that use 'em, when they want good sense; But honesty Needs no Disguise nor Ornament: Be plain. His ideal of plain speech, the middle way which shuns extremes, is implied in hl6 advice to his sons during his period of illness (III, 7681): ^he viathan , p. 19.

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120 , , : ." ! ; Be not less Friends because you're Brothers; shun The man that's singular, his mind's unsound, His Spleen o' re-weighs his Brains, but above all Avoid the politick, the factious Fool, The busie, buzzing, talking, hardn'd Knave; The quaint, smooth Rogue, that sins against his Reason.... The "singular," solitary, uncommunicative man stands at one extreme, while the talkative "quaint, smooth Rogue" Is at the other: both are deceptive and dangerous. But for Acasto it is the "talking" dissembler who "sins against his Reason" and who thus seems the more dangerous of the two. His wariness of the "talking. . .Knave" reflects, moreover, a commonplace Renaissance attitude. Thomas Wright, for instance, in The Passions of the Minde (London, 1620), having described the man who talks too much, adds: "Some contrariwise be of two [sic] litle speech, the which Tacitumitie, although it repugneth to modestie, which standeth betwixt these two extremes [too much and too little speech], yet commonly wise men account this extreame more secure; for many words almost ever 12 offend, but silence very rarely...." This wariness towards the man who talks too much, particularly for Acasto, seems also to reflect the traditional notion that speech is the art which most nearly imitates nature, or, as Thomas Wright says, represents "most exactly the very 13 image of the mind and soule...." When that art is abused, as it is by the "talking. . .Knave" who dissembles with words, nature itself is abused and reason is sinned against. By admonitions, directed pjartlcularly towards abuses of speech. 12 p. 108. ^^p. 105.

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121 and by remoteness from society, Acasto attempts to raise his sons In virtue and Innocence. Moreover, he provides an "Example" of soulsearching by confessing each "Mom, and Evening" his thoughts to heaven (IV, 33-34) { and he impresses en hl^ sons the way of meditation as being the proper course for the "Active mind" to pursue (II, 71-73): Busie your minds then, study Arts and Men: Learn how to value Merits though in Rags, And scorn a proud ill-manner' d Knave in Office. Teaching, learning, meditation, soul-searching, and a kind of monastic existence — all are ways which medieval and Renaissance theologians thought proper for the redemption of time. St. Paul said, "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise. Redeeming the tine, because the days are evil" (Eph. 5:15-16), and Acasto's efforts seem ultimately aimed at fulfilling Paul's admonition. Following his sudden Illness, Acasto excuses himself from his friends (III, 152-154): Good-night I my Friends, Heaven guard ye all! good night! To morrow early we'll salute the day. Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time. In the larger context of Acasto's efforts on his estate, the redemption he speaks of is not just time lost by his illness, but the redemption of all "lost time." Time, however, proves to be Irredeemable in the play. Georges Poulet's description of time in Racine's drama is Just as true of time In The Orphan ; "... what one calls the present is not solely pure and 14 See Paul A. Jorgensen. Redeeming Shakespeare's Words . (Berkeley, 1962). p. 63.

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122 ceaseless Invention, but a preservation of the past and a continuation of the past Into the present. .. .Even God Is unable tp make the past cease to exist and, therefore, also to make evil cease to continue and repeat itself... the whole Racinian drama is presented as the intrusion of a fatal past, of a determining past, of a past of efficient cause, into a present that seeks desperately to become independent of It." For Acasto (or, it seems, any one), the redemption of time would necessitate a return to Eden and a correcting of the first evil from whence all evil in time subsequent originates. And whether consciously or not, Acasto' 8 efforts to redeem time lead to a "recreation," in the present, of Eden, evidenced by the allusions to Polydore, Castalio, and Monimla as types of Adam and Eve, and by Chamont's parabolical description of Acasto's estate as an Eden "Where the Sun always shines" (IV, 296-302). But the only Eden which Acasto can "recreate" is that Eden which existed at the precise moment the serpent struck. Time proves to be irredeemable, and Innocence, even among those secluded from society, seems impossible. II The conveTsation between the two servants which begins the play, generally criticized as awkward exposition, is nevertheless Important to the play's design, for it mirrors the deceptive appearances which Acasto's attempt to redeem time creates. From their conversation Studies in Human Time , tr. Elliott Coleman (Baltimore, 1956), p. 118. 16 See Summers, I, Ixxxvlll. ^

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123 emerges a picture of peace and harmony on Acasto's estate (I, 35-50), where, seemingly free from the 111 effects of time, the family appears to live In a state of primal vigor and Innocence: "Twins from the Womb," Polydore and Castallo seem "still. .. [to] live, /As If they would go Twins too to the Grave" (I, 38-39); Serlna, "whose blooming Age/ Promises Goodness equal to her Beauty" (45-46) , finds In Monlmla "A faithful partner" of her "Infant Nature" (48-49); and even the "old man," Acasto, seems "Lusty as health come ruddy to the Field," pursuing the "Chace as if he meant /To o' retake Time and bring back Youth again" (78-80). The portrayal of peace and harmony is particularly evident in Paulino's description of Polydore and Castallo (I, 37-43): They're both of Nature mild, and full of sweetness. They came Twins from the Womb, and still they live, As if they would go Twins too to the Grave: Neither has any thing he calls his own. But of each others Joys as griefs partaking, So very honestly, so well they love. As they were only for each other bom. 17 The impression Paulino conveys of an almost Eden-like harmony seems a reversal of the human conflict which exists in the Hobbesian natural condition of mankind, where, as Hobbes remarks, because "Nature hath 18 made men. . .equal, in the faculties of the body, and mind," and because there is "no propriety, no dominion, no mine and thitie distinct; but only that to be every man's, that he can get: and for so long, as 17 Paulino's description recalls the economic "communism" that was part of certain classical views concerning the Golden Age. See Lovejoy and Boas, Primitivism and Related Ideas in Antiquity , pp. 14; 273j 354. 18 Leviathan , p. 80.

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19 he can keep it," there exists a perpetual warfare. Whatever else may be meant by the brothers being twins , there seems Implied their equality "in the faculties of the body, and mind"; and in Paulino's deaerlptlon, «a in Hobbes's account of the natural condition of man, there is "no mine and thine distinct" between Polydore and Castallo. But for Hobbea the lack of dletinctlon leads to competition and warfare, while in Paulino's account it leads to the brothers' mutual sharing of all things. The scenes which follow reveal how utterly mistaken the servants are in their impressionsof Acasto's family, for beneath the family's superficial appearance of peaceful harmony, there indeed exist conditions of "warfare" where dissembling, fraud, and force are weapons used by the brothers to secure an object they cannot share. It is this contrast, moreover, which may suggest the importance of the opening scene to the design of the play. The servants' description of family harmony seems to serve a dual purpose: while allowing for a dramatic design which unfolds to reveal the discord that actually exists, it also presents an Eden-like ideal from which the characters are seen as fallen. When the reader first meets Castallo and Polydore they are describing the dangers of a boar hunt from which they are just returned. Castallo recounts being hurled by the boar's savage rush "headlong with him down the Rock" (I, 85-86) where finally Castalio kills him, but not before Polydore "like Perseus mounted on his winged Steed / Came on, and down the dang'rous precipice leapt, /To save Castalio " (89-91). The mythological reference seems to cast over the boar hunt an heroic 19 Ibid ., p. 83.

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125 shadow larger than life; and indeed the chase is but a weak substitute for the brothers' restless desire for glory in battle, as Castallo indicates (96-101) : So, Polidor, me thinks we might in War Rush on together; Thou shou'dst be my guard. And I'd be thine; what is't could hurt us then? Now half the Youth of Europe are In Armes, How fulsome must it be to stay behind. And dye of rank diseases here at home? The significance of having the reader first encounter Polydore and Castalio as they return from a boar hunt, discoursing on their eagerness for war and likening their hunt to some heroic battle, lies in the sudden revelation that, amidst the peace of Acasto's estate described by the servants, there exists in what Paulino calls the mild, sweet natures of Castalio and Polydore a restless disposition to engage in the war of man against man; that in fact Acasto's Eden-like estate only thinly veils the wilderness of man's true world. The hunting of the 20 boar proves in the play to be an inadequate, though moral, outlet for the brothers' spirit of strife. The scene changes from a boar hunt to a sexual "hunt" which, with the military images that are associated (as we shall discover) with Polydore, becomes another, but more dangerous (since htiman beings are both hunter and hunted) outlet for the disposition to war; and at the play's end the true condition of mankind seems expressed in the duel, the mortal combat between brothers. 20 For the relationship between the passions of war and the passions of the chase, see Aubrey Williams, "Introduction" to Windsor-Forest . in Alexander Pope, Pastoral Poetry and an Essay on Criticism , ed. Williams and E. Audra, Twickenham edition, vol. I (London, 1961), 139, See also Earl Wasserman, The Subtler Language (Baltimore, 1959), pp. 119; 129-133.

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126 , Polydore and Castallo shift the topic of their conversation from the boar to Monlmla, and the first dissembling which marks the beginning of their covert warfare with one another occurs. With an inviting candor and honesty, Polydore asks Castallo if he loves Monlmla. Castallo becomes defensive and then angry (I, 133-137): Is love a Fault? Pol . In one of us it may be; What if I Love her? Cast . Then I must Inform you, I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the Claim, But will preserve the Birth-right of my Passion. Pol . You will! Cast . I will. Pol . No more, I've done. In the distant allusion to Esau who sold his birthright to his twin brother Jacob (Genesis 25: 29-34), one may hear the ironic accent of the tragedy to come, for Castallo does forfeit, by the dissembling he now begins, the birthright of his passion. It isnot his love for Monimla which Castallo conceals. Having admitted his passion, Castallo, calming his own anger, then attempts to soothe Polydore by encouraging him to continue in his own pursuit of Monlmla, Justifying their natural passion by falling back upon the presumed harmony of their being twins and sharing in all things: "sure we're such Friends, /So much one man, that our affections too /Must be united and the same as we are" (I, 151-153). Polydore then admits, "I doat upon Monlmla ." and Castallo responds, "Love her still; /Win, and enjoy her" (I, 154-155). And Polydore correctly answers, "Both of us cannot" (I, 155). Polydore' e candid recognition that both of them cannot possess Monlmla reflects the basic predicament underlying Hobbes's conception \ ' .

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12 7 of the natural condition of mankind. Having presented his views on the natural equality of men, Hobbes states: "From this equality of abllltyg arlseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. And therefore • if any twe men desire the aame thine , which neverthelagg they eannet_ both enjoy , they become enemies ; and in the way to their end, which is principally their own conservation, ^nd some time a their delectation 21 only , endeavor to destroy, or subdue one another." The twins, "so much one man" that they seem equal in ability, are caught in the dilemma of desiring the same thing which both cannot enjoy, and, already disposed to warfare, become enemies. Choosing not to dissemble his love for Monlmia, Castallo Instead dissembles their intention to marry, for, at this point, they already are engaged (II, 279-280). In reply to Polydore's question, "You would not wed Monlmia . would you?" (I, 158), Castallo answers (158-162): Wed her! No! were she all desire could wish, as fair As would the vainest of her Sex be thought. With Wealth beyond what Woman pride could waste. She should not cheat me of my Freedom. Marry? And to give substance to his deception, he leads Polydore to the "Scene of Love" (185) where he was to meet Monlmia, but now allows Polydore an opportunity to try his fortune with her, with but one condition, "That no false Play be offer'd to thy Brother" (187) — which, after his own dissembling, seems savage hypocrisy. Castallo* 8 dissembling with Polydore is readily apparent throughout the play and needs no demonstration. What may be In need of more 'K eviathan . p. 81. My Italics.

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128 explanation, however, is the cause or motivation for his dissembling. Taylor remarks that "Castalio's motive for concealing his marriage from Polydore is the weakest point in the structure of The Orphan . His motive la inadequately explnlnedi and yet en hla eoneealment dependa 22 the catastrophe of the play." Her criticism is generally in line with that of earlier critics who also find little motivation in the 23 play for his dissembling. And true enough, there is only one explicit statement Castallo makes in explanation of his deception. When Monlmla accuses him of falseness in dissembling with Polydore and In allowing Polydore to take his place in the assignation with her, he attempts to Justify his actions (II, 358-363): I knowing him precipitate and rash, To calm his heat and to conceal my Happiness, Seem'd to comply with his unruly will; Talkt as he talk't, and granted all he ask't; Lest he in Rage might have our Loves betray' d. And I for ever had Monimia lost. John Dennis, in "Remarks Upon Cato" where he compares The Orphan with Addison's play, takes Castalio's statement at face value: "In the Orphan . Castallo boasts of his Passion, and is resolv'd to maintain the Birth-Right of it; that which he conceals is his Intention of Marriage, which is a great deal more easy to be conceal 'd than Love, and which it is highly probable that one dn Castalio 's Circumstemces would conceal, least it should come to his Father's Ear by his Brother's Resentment...." What those circumstances are Dennis does not say, though 22 Taylor, p. 2A. i 23 ' '^ IkM24 The Critical Works of John DenQls i ed . Edward Nlles Hooker (Baltimore, 1943), II, 66.

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129 one Imagines that they must have something to do with Monimia's being the ward of Acasto and without dowry. Other critics, however, find Castalio's Justification inadequate, for nothing in the play supports a • 23 belief that Acasto would not be pleased with the marriage. But placed in a larger thematic context, Castalio's statement to Monlmia becotnea more meaningful. For Castallo seems representative of what Christian thought generally calls the overprudent man. Christ said, "Be not therefore solicitous for tomorrow; for the morrow will be solicitous for itself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof" (Matt. 6:34). Commenting on this passage and on prudence in general, Thomas Aquinas provides the traditional Christian interpretation: "Due foresight of the future belongs to prudence. But it would be an inordinate foresight or solicitude about the future, if a man were... to 26 forestall the time for solicitude," that is, if he were to "anticipate the time of anxiety... by being solicitous now for the needs i not 27 of the present, but of a future time...." : For every time has its own fitting proper solicitude; thus solicitude about the crops belongs to the summer time, and solicitude about the vintage to the time of autumn. Accordingly if a man were solicitous about the vintage during the summer, he would be needlessly forestalling [i.e. anticipating] the solicitude belonging to a future time. Hence Our Lord forbids such like excessive solicitude, saying: Be... not solicitous for 25 See Taylor, pp. 25-26. 26 Summa Theologica (II-II, Q. 55, art. 7, ad. 2), tr. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (London, n.d.), X, 97. 27 ' Summa Theologica (I-II, Q. 108, art. 3, ad. 5), in Basic Wfitittgs of Saint Thomas Aquinas, ed. Anton C. Pegis (New York, 1945), II, 975-976.

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' '•':; 130 tomorrow , wherefore He adds, for the morrow will be solicitous for Itself , that Is to say, the morrow will have its own solicitude, which will be burden enough for the soul. ° Caetallo's solicitude for the future is ao bound up with his desire to possess Monimia that the two are inseparable. Fearful of losing her, Castalio refuses to trust his father (V, 42-43) because, like the overly-cautious chaplain, he simply does not know "what reception" his marriage might "find /With old Acasto " (III, 250-251), and overprudently anticipates the worse. He refuses to trust Polydore, for knowing that he also loves Monimia, he fearfully anticipates that Polydore "in Rage might have our Loves betray'd. . . ." Aquinas states 29 that "over much fear and distrust are the cause of over solicitude," and certainly it is Castalio 's fear and distrust which prompt his overprudent desire to secure his possession of Monimia against possible or imagined threats . Castalio moreover is motivated, not only by overprudence, but also by false prudence. Christianity generally recognizes that the ultimate end which prudence should consider and by which its actions should be 30 guided is the salvation of the soul. Guided by any other final end, prudence becomes false prudence. Now the goal towards which Castalio 28 Summa Theologlca (II-II, Q. 55, art. 7, resp.), tr. Fathers of the English Dominican Province, X, 97. 29 Ibid .. (II-II, Q. 47, art. 9, ad. 3), X, 16. 30 See Summa Theologlca (II-II, Q. 47, art 13, resp.), X, 23: ".. .prudence. . .both true and perfect. . .takes counsel. Judges and commands aright in respect of the good end of man's whole life...." See ibid. (II-II, Q. 55, art. 1, resp.), X, 87: "...prudence regards things which are directed to the end of life as a whole. Hence prudence of the flesh [i.e., false prudence] signifies the prudence of a man who looks upon carnal goods as the last €nd of his life."

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131 labors Is the possessing of Monimla; she is the "paradise" he seeks to attain. At the end of Act II, embracing her, he exclaims (401-408): Where am II surely Paradise is round me I Sweets planted by the hana of Heaven grow herep And every sence is full of thy Perfection. To hear thee speak might calm a mad-mans Frenzy, Till by attention he forgot his sorrows; But to behold thy Eyes, th* amazing Beauties, Might make him rage again with Love as I do. To touch thee's Heav'n, but to enjoy thee oh! With its emphasis on the five senses, the imagery insists that we view Monimla as being for Castalio the earthly and sensuous "paradise" he seeks to possess. But not only is she his "paradise," she is also, as the final end which governs his actions, his "god"; as he goes, at midnight, to consummate his secret wedding with her, he describes himself and Monimla (III, 507-509): At Midnight thus the Us'rer steals untract. To make a Visit to his hoarded Gold, And Feast his Eyes upon the shining Mammon.... Christ declares that, since man cannot serve God and mammon (Matt. 6:24), he should lay up in store treasures in heaven, not treasures on earth where "thieves break through and steal" (Matt. 6:19). For Castalio, however, Monimla becomes his "hoarded Gold," his "shining Mammon," and his earthly "paradise"; and, like one who worships a temporal good, he becomes a "Us'rer" and miser. But oversollcitous for an earthly treasure, Castalio will find that a thief has broken in and robbed him of all that his misdirected prudence sought to secure. Guided by a worldly and oversollcitous prudence, Castalio, out of fear and distrust, engages in dissembling, a practice which in Christianity is described as an aspect of false prudence. Hobbes reflects

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' ^ this general view of dissembling: "To prudence, if you add the use of unjust, or dishonest means, such as usually are prompted to men by fear, or want; you have that crooked wisdom, which is called CRAFT; whleh la • sign of puslilanlralty. For magnanimity Is eentempt of unjust or dishonest helps. And that which the Latins call versutla , translated Into English, shifting , and is a putting off of a present danger or Incommodlty, by engaging into a greater, as when a man robs one to pay another, is but a shorter-sighted craft, called versutla . from versura . which signifies taking money at usury for the present 31 payment of interest." Desirous of protecting his future, fearful of losing it, Castallo, like an overprudent man, becomes short-sighted, "putting off" by his dissembling what he imagines as "present danger" only to engage "into a greater" and more real danger. Overprudently refusing to reveal his heart to Polydore (I, 120), Castallo indeed creates a real threat to his own future happiness by deceiving his brother into thinking he has an opportunity equal with Castallo 's to win Monlmla. And unaware that Castallo is already engaged to her, deceived into thinking that their competition is merely the age-old contest between men for the sexual love of a woman, Polydore becomes a dangerous competitor. In effect, his desire for glory now finds expression in the pursuit of Monlmla. After his first interview with her in which she rejects his love, Polydore begins to think of his pursuit in terms of military Images: like a soldier storming and 31 Leviathan , p. 45. See Summa Theologlca (II-II, Q. 55, art. 3, ad. 3), X, 91: "Under worldly prudence Gregory included everything that can pertain to false prudence, so that it comprises craftiness also."

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133 ravishing a citadel, he Intends to "Walt on, and watch her loose unguarded hours," and then "when her Vertue nods" to "rush upon her in a storm of Love, /Bear down her guard of Honour all before" him and "Surfeit on Joy« ttll even deslra grow* alek" (I, 369-375). Whan he discovers that Castallo is meeting Monlmia secretly, like a soldier he •eta hie young page to spy, comnandlng him to "watch my Brother throughly: /If he should chance to meet Monlmia . make / Just observation of each word and action; /Pass not one circumstance without remark" (II, 320-323); and when he receives the report, he demands exactness, "Express it to me all /In words may make me think I saw it too" (III, 1-2). Upon hearing that Castallo and Monlmia, after a quarrel, were reconciled in a "gentle calm of Love" (III, 10), Polydore reacts both as a soldier and as a hunter (III, 15-17; 19-21; 22-26): Happy Castallo ! Now by my Great Soul, M' Ambitious Soul, that Languishes to glory, I'll have her yet... But for Castallo why was I refused? Has he supplanted me by some foul play, Traduc'd my Honour? ... It must be so: we parted and he met her, Half to compliance brought by me, surpriz'd Her sinking Vertue till she yielded quite: So Poachers basely pick up tir'd Game, Whilst the fair Hunter's cheated of his Prey. And finally when he confronts Castallo, who (still maintaining his deception) asks Polydore to "leave this Peevish Beauty to her self" (III, 333), Polydore replies (III, 334-337): What, quit my Love? as soon I'd quit my Post In fight, and like a Coward run away. No, by my Stars I'll chase her till she yields To me, or meets her Rescue in Another.

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13A Castalio's use of that "crooked wisdom, which is called CRAFT" has created a situation in which he stands to lose all that a cautious, but honest prudence might have secured • Aa a soldier who desirda glory, Pelydore is a dangerous fee In the covert warfare to possess Monimia. He seems even more dangerous because his dsslrs tot glory erlglnatea, at lease In part. In f««llng8 of Infsrlorlty; having overheard Castalio's arrangements to enter Monimia' s apartmeilt at night, Folydore begins to search his mind for some scheme to foil Castalio (III, 370-374): Oh I for a means now how to Counterplot And disappoint this happy Elder Brother. In ev'ry thing we do, or undertake. He soars above me, mount what height I can, And keeps the start he got of me in Birth. Polydore's competition with Castalio over Monimia seems as much motivated by desire to defeat his brother as it is by desire to possess Monimia. But Polydore's greatest threat (as Castalio knows) lies in his being "precipitate and rash." Said another way, Folydore, in contrast with Castalio, is imprudent, lacking in any care at all for the 32 future. He seems, as Poulet says of Pyrrhus in Racine's Aodromaque . "to want to seize in passion an instant that is without faith and with33 out memories"; or in the language of Hobbes, he seems to desire the "felicity of beasts" which consists in "the enjoying of their quotidian 32 Aquinas consistently uses the terms "rash" and "precipitate" to describe imprudence; e.g., "...the rash man wills the act of Imprudence, because he wishes to act precipitately," The Summa Theologica (II-II, Q. 53, art. 1, ad. 1), X, 71. 33 Studies la Human Time , p. 120. ... \

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135 food, ease, and lusts; as having little or no foresight of the time to come...." ^ For like "The lusty Bull" that "ranges through all the Field, /And from the flerd singling his Female out, / Enjoyes her, and •bandena har at Will" (1, 365-367) , *olydore dealraa to "ruah upon" Monlmia "in a storm of Love" (373; 375-377): Surfeit on Joys till even desire grows sick; Then by long Absence liberty regain And quite forget the pleasure and the pain. Polydore seems to believe that he can experience a present that is independent of the past and future, a sensual present without memory or 35 faith. More specifically, his lack of prudence appears in the Imploxis prayer he utters before entering Monimia's apartment (III, 427429) t Blest Heav'n, assist me but in this dear hour. And my kind Starrs be but propitious now, Dispose of me hereafter as you please. 34 Leviathan , p. 70. 35 Concerning the probable relationship between Polydore 's desire to emulate animal nature and his imprudence, the following from Hobbes seems relevant: "The train of regulated thoughts is of two kinds: one, when of an effect imagined we seek the causes, or means that produce it: aQd this is common to man and beast. The other is, when imagining any thing what soever, we seek all the possible effects, that can by it be produced. .. .Of which 1 have not at any time seen any sign, but in man only; for this is a curiosity hardly incident to the nature of any living creature that has no other passion but sensual... " (Leviathan , p. 15).

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136 The surface quiet of the country estate where Acasto vainly seeks tins' 8 r«d«option thus opens to rsvssl « "war" of rivalry betwssn brotherd for possession of a woman. Seeming harmony yields to disorder i And the prlmaxy cause of this disorder, as John Dennis observes, lies in the violence of passion: ... the Calamities of all three [Castalio, Monimia, Polydore] are occasion 'd by Faults which Aristotle terms Involuntary, that is, by Faults occasion'd by the Force of an outrageous Passion. The Fault of Castalio , is dissembling with his brother, and marrying Monimia, without the Knowledge or Consent of his Father; that of Monimia Is the marrying I Castalio . without the Knowledge and Consent of his / Father, who was her Benefactor; that of Polldor , is dissembling with his Brother, and the debauching Monimia without her Consent, contrary to the Rights • of Hospitality, and that Veneration that was due to his Father's Protection and Guardianship; which Faults in all of them proceed from the Violence of a Passion, which is admirably painted by the most ingenious Author.^" More specifically, their "Faults" are caused by the "Violence of a Passion" that rebels against the dictates of reason. Castalio is aware that his dissembling towards his brother is wrong (II, 310-313): 'Twas not well done to trifle with my Brother: I might have trusted him with all the secret, Open'd my silly heart and shewn it bare: But then he loves her too; but not like me.... He rejects the dictates of his reason, vainly believing that later when all is known, Polydore will "sure forgive / The first Transgression of a ^ ^Critical Works . II, 66-67.

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137 wretched Friend /betray 'd to Love..." (II, 317-319). Monlmia's reasoa also seems apprehensive of danger; her first speech in the play reveals an unease concerning her situation with Castallo (I, 205-207; 211-214) s Sure some ill Fate's upon me. Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart, And Apprehension shocks my timerous Soul. Castallo I oh Castallo 1 thou hast caught My foolish heart; and like a tender' Child, That trusts his play-thing to another hand, I fear Its harm, and fain would have It back. Though sensing potential danger In her clandestine Involvement with Castallo, she seems. In spite of her apprehensions, unable to take back her heart, passively submitting to Castallo's deception of his father, and later of his brother. When she learns from the page that Castallo and Polydore, after angry exchanges, had finally agreed not to quarrel for her (I, 247-252), and that Castallo had even vowed never to marry (1, 268-269), her apprehensions become greater (I, 272-274): Ye Gods, that Guard the Innocent, and guld The weak; protect, and take me to your care. Oh I but I love him: There's the Rock will wrack me I Aware of her weakness and danger she calls on heaven for aid. But her prayer Is undercut by a burst of passion ("OhI but I love him") and by her recognition that this passion is a "Rock" that will ultimately wreck her. And like Castallo, Polydore seems aware that his own dissembling is at fault. Putting into motion his scheme to outwit Castallo, he sends the young page to delay his brother's going to Monlmia's room: "Tell him a pretty story that may please / His Ear: Invent a Tale, no matter what" (III, 390-391). Then, in an aside, he \

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138 murmurs, "Well said, Polydore ; /Dissemble with thy Brother: That's one Point" (394-395). No matter whether the tone is ironic or guilty, his remark seems to express a knowledge that what he is doing is wrong. WamingB ef eenseienee also aeem present in his remark, after the page has left, "To cheat this brother, will't be honest, that / I heard the Sign she order'd him to give?" (A09-A10) . But petition for Monlmle as well as envy towards Castalio prevail over whatever warning Polydore 's conscience may provoke. Probably the most significant indication in The Orphan of passion's sin against reason is the violation by the three principal characters of Acasto's ideal of plain, honest speech. We have seen that speech is an art which should imitate, or mirror, the mind; when speech is abused so as to veil the true drift of the mind, reason itself is sinned against. It should be added that speech is a primary point of interaction between reason and passion, an interaction which is emphasized In Polydore' 8 account of the origin of speech (I, 305-311): Who can behold such Beauty, and be silent? Desire first taught us words: Man, when created At first alone, long wander 'd up and down, [ Forlorn, and silent as his Vassal Beasts; But when a Heav'n-bom Maid, like you, appear 'd. Strange pleasures flll'd his eyes, and fir'd his heart, Unloos'd his Tongue, and his first talk was Love. Though more nearly allied to reason, the art of speech was "taught" by

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139 37 "Desire" which, as Polydore says, "Unloos'd" the "Tongue." And this Interaction between reason and passion is Implied even more pointedly by making love the first subject of Adam's artlculaton. New the slgnlfleaaee ei this meeting ef passion and reaaen in the art of speech is that passion may affect language not Just in mode of expression, but in content as well. For an "outrageous Passion" will abuse speech, as in Castalio's verbal dissembling, and thus be responsible for the sin against reason. And though Acasto, aware of the sin against reason potentially present in languagfe, insists on honest, open speech, even he seems on one occasion to commit that sin. When he becomes ill, he counsels his sons as to the reasonable course their lives should take, urging them to live "united" and to "Be not less Friends because you're Brothers" (III, 69; 76); he warns them against the "singular" man and the "busle, buzzing, talking, hardn'd Knave" (77-80), but then suddenly alters both the tone and content of his advice (84-91; 94-96): 37 I have found only one other specific reference to Adam's being created without the art of speech, Thomas Traherne's poem, "Dumness," The Poetical Works , ed. Gladys I. Wade (London, 1932), p. 158: Sure Man was bom to meditate on things And to contemplate the Eternal Springs Of God and Nature, Glory, Bliss, and Pleasure; And therefore Speechless made at first, that he Might in himself profoundly busied be... I. did my Bliss , when !_ did Silence , break . ^^ Hobbes indirectly attributes the origin of speech to the passions: The passions of man, as they are the beginning of' voluntary motions : so are they the beginning of speech , which is the motion of the tongue." The English Works of Thomas Hobbes . ed. William Molesworth (London. 1840), IV, 25.

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lAO Be very careful how ye make new Friends, Men read not Morals now, 'twas a Custom, But all are to their Fathers Vices born: And in their Mothers Ignorance are bred. Let Marriage be the last mad thing ye doe. For all the Sins and Follies of the past. tt you hsv® Children, never give them knowledge, 'Twill spoil their Fortune, Fools are all the fashion. . . .never shew Religion Except y« mean to pass for Knaves of Conscience, And cheat believing Fools that think ye honest. Beginning in wise counsel against those who sin against their reason, the speech ends in Ironic bitterness that is itself an inversion of reason— as If the disillusionment and hatred of the court "where he was bred and llv'd," wells up into some "outrageous Passion" that suddenly alters the tone and content of his speech into a sin against reason. Passion, however, may abuse speech (and reason) in ways other than the use of dissembling or misleading language. Though Hobbes states that "true and false are attributes of speech, not of things," and that 38 "wherespeech is not, there is neither truth nor falsehood ." Otway indicates throughout the play that the refusal to speak may be as much an abuse of speech as lying is. The silence of both Castalio and Monimla towards Acasto regarding their intention to marry is as false as Castalio' 8 dissembling lies are to Polydore; thus the silence is as much responsible for the tragedy as the lies. And the deliberate silence of Polydore while in Monimla 's bed is the means by which he Is able to dissemble Castalio 's presence. Through either silence or verbal dissembling, Castalio, Monimla, and Polydore are led by the force of passion to abuse speech and to sin against reason. Leviathan , p. 21.

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lAl Passion's sin against reason, however, Is related » In Christian tradition and In Otway's play, to a still more radical fault In man's I nature. Chamont tells Monlmla (II, 288-289); Trust not a man; we are by Nature false. Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant. . . . Monlmla already knows (though her passion proves stronger than her knowledge) that men may be "faithless" (I, 361), that they "Will flatter, feign, and make an Art of love" (II, 105). But Chamont seems to mean something more than simply man's faithlessness. He seems to mean that through a fault (one of the play's operative terms) In his nature, man Is Inclined to falseness. Elsewhere In the play It appears that the fault In human nature Is related to man's being a creature composed of passion and reason. On the morning following his being turned away from Monlmla 's apartment where he had gone to spend his wedding night, Castalio, observing a herd of deer, "Male, Female, Father, Daughter, Mother, Son, /Brother and Sister mingled all together" (V, 18-19) , reflects bitterly on the unllkeness between animal and human nature,^ particularly In regard to their different sexual urges (26-28): Once In a Season too they taste of Love: Only the Beast of Reason is its Slave, And In that Folly drudges all the year. The use of the term "Beast" to describe part of man's nature Is a commonplace to mean the passions. As far back as The Republic , Plato, describing the "appetites" which are "innate in everyone," states that these appetites "bestir themselves In dreams, when the gentler part of the soul slumbers and the control of reason Is withdrawn; then the wild

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142 beast in us.. .becomes rampant and shakes off sleep to go in quest of what will gratify its own instincts. .. .it will cast away all shame and prudence at such moments and stick at nothing. In phantasy it will not shrink from intercourse with a mother or anyone else, man, god, or brute...." Philo Judaeus refers to the "beasts of the soul, the passions," comparing them to "untamed and wild" birds which "descend upon the intellect; for their onset is swift and difficult to withstand...." By calling man a "Beast of Reason," Otway means that he is a creature composed of an alloy of passion and reason, and thus cannot be of a kind with unreflective animal nature. It is from the interaction of passion and reason, moreover, that the fault of man's nature is bom, for though they once interacted in perfect harmony, and yet may still aid one another, they are all too often at strife, and what Plato describes as occurring in sleep may also occur when waking. Lawrence Babb, summarizing the moral basis of Elizabethan "psychological" literature on the passions, states that "Since the sin of Adam the passions have been, not the obedient followers of reason that they should be, but rebellious subjects, always ready to rise in insurrection, to blind, to vitiate, or simply to overpower the rational faculties." The conflict between passion and reason, or, as Etienne Gilson says in his analysis of Augustine's philosophy, the "body's revolt against the spirit," is the disorder which altered the 39 The Republic , tr. Francis MacDonald Comford (New York, 1963), pp. 296-297. Works, tr. C. D. Younge (London, 1854), I, 83. "On the Nature of Elizabethan Psychological Literature," Joseph Quincy Adams ; Memorial Studies , ed. James G. McManaway (Washington, 1948), p. 513.

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143 perfect harmony of man's nature in consequence of the original sin of Adam; and this disorder, "propagated down to our own day" is "original sin itself, carried on in the effects it has caused...." The fault then of man's nature ia the failure of reason to guide and control passion, and its origin is in the fall of Adam and Eve. Caatallo, Polydora, and Monlmla, through thalr pasalons, have (as we have seen) sinned against reason, and their allusive resemblance, on four separate occasions in the play, to Adam and Eve indicates that their sin becomes the defect of their nature, a fault which originated in Eden and which is being re-enacted in their lives. Prior to his "rape" of Monimia, Polydore sees himself as Adam before the Fall and Monimia as Eve, the "Heav'n-bom Maid," (I, 306-311); after his "rape" and the revelation of his deceit to Monimia, and her revelation to him that she is Castalio's wife, they become like Adam and Eve cast out of paradise (IV, 442-449): First if the Fruit of our detested Joy, A Child be bom, it shall be murder'd. Mon. No. Sure, that may live. Pol . Why? Mon . To become a thing More wretched than its Parents, to be branded With all our Infamy, and Curse its Birth. Pol. That's well contriv'd! then thus let's go together Full of our guilt, distracted where to roam. Like the first Wretched Pair expell'd their Paradise. Rebellious passion and its fruition are the effects of "original" sin; like Cain, man is branded with the fault of his father. 42 I The Christian Phlloeophv of St. Augufitine , tr. Ll E. M. Lynch (New York, 1960), p. 151.

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144 Castallo also seems like Adam. After a reconciliation following a brief quarrel with Monimia, and before the deception of their wedding night, Castallo envisions himself in paradise with Eve (II, 401-403; 409.412)1 Where am I! surely Paradise is round me! Sw««ca planted by the hend of Heaven grow here, And every sence is full of thy Perfection. Thou Natures whole perfection in one piece I Sure framing thee Heav'n took unusual care. As its own Beauty it design 'd thee Fair; And form'd thee by the best lov'd Angel there. But when he is turned away on his wedding night from Monimia 's apartment, Polydore having gotten there before him, Castallo curses "Woman the Fountain of all Humane Frailty," tracing the "mighty Ills... done by Woman" back through time (III, 580-585), ending finally at their Bource in Eden (587-594): Woman to Man first as a Blessing giv'n, When Innocence and Love were In their prime, Happy a while in Paradise they lay, But quickly Woman long'd to go astray, Some foolish new Adventure needs must prove, And the first Devil she saw she chang'd her Love, To his Temptations lewdly she inclln'd . Her Soul, and for an Apple damn'd Mankind. Like Adam and Eve, they had known happiness awhile, but now, through the deceits prompted by an "outrageous Passion," they experience the effects of the original fault which damns human kind. For Otway then the human condition seems to have its origin in a defect of human nature, occasioned by the Fall, which inclines men to be "false /Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant," the effect of passion' B original rebellion against reason. The "ill-condition" of

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145 man's existence is the seemingly Ineluctable state of fallen nature where whether solitary or in society, the "Beast of Reason" will experience the tragic effects of the war within hfs twofold nature. And these ef feefes for the eharaeters of The Orphan seem almost dream-ilkei when Castalio meets Monimia after she has learned that it was Polydore, not Caatalio. who spent the night with her, she hold* him at distance, "No nearer, lest I vanish!" Castalio responds, "Have I been in a Dream then all this while I" (V, 207-208). And after Castalio learns the truth he tells Chamont, "Vanish, I charge thee..." (V, A86) . Plato's metaphoric beast which bestirs itself in dreams when man's reason slumbers has become for Monimia and Castalio a waking reality. IV Reading The Orphan , one may sense something of the inexorable in the simple progression of events from beginning to end. At the middle of the play is Polydore's sexual deception of Monimia, an event which occurs at midnight (III, 507), the point on the clock marking simultaneously the end of one day and the beginning of another. The sexual deception is itself a point of demarcation in the play, separating the deceptions and hostilities of the day, which, as sufficient cause, now conclude in the "effect" of incest and "rape," from the effects which those deceptions (including the sexual) have on the characters during the next day. In short, the play's structural progression seems modelled on the principle of cause and effect. More specifically, the effects of the past day's deceptions manifest themselves in Monimia and Castalio. at first, in a rather vague sense of alteration in their condition. After a night of love-making

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A6 , ; . sweets" (II, 30-31); and Don John replies that the nobly bom "should highest prize / Loves sweets" (43-4A); the King laments that Jealousy poisons "all Loves sweets" (II, 114); Don John speaks of Eboli's lovemaking « "Like too near sweets" (III, 12); and Carlos reminds the King that once he acted as a father by helping Carlos find a wife, "Then Loves dear sweets you to me would display" (III, 321). One of the effects of this persistent word pattern is to illuminate the hint Otway provides in Gomez's statement, for unable to discharge the sexual sweets of love, Gomez will unlade the "pretlous sweets" of cruelty for Eboll. Sexual "unklndness," however, is expressed as well by being "too kind" — either extreme becomes a departure from the norm of "kind." After Eboli sends Gomez to inflame the King's jealousy, she then makes love with Don John. Gomez returns sooner than she expected, and, somewhat flustered, she upbraids him with his lack of attendance upon her* He reminds her of the task she gave him, and she replies (II, 91*94): 'Tis true, Your pardon, for I do remember now: If I forgot, 'twas love had all my mind, And 'tis no sin I hope to be too kind. Though deliberately ambiguous, Eboli of course refers in the last two verses to her love-making with Don John, hopeful that it has been "no sin... to be too kind." But as if to underscore the "unklndness" of Eboli's "too kind" encounter with Don John, Otway provides Gomez with the ironic response (95): "How happy am I in a faithful Wife!" To be "too kind" (as Eboli has been) destroys the "kindness" of marriage. The King also employs the term "too kind" to imply the Queen's "unklndness" when he criticizes the Queen's friendship with Carlos (II, 1A5-148) : \

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47 True, she may showr promiscuous blessings down On slaves that gape for what falls from a Crown. But when too kindly she his brightness see^. It robs my Lustre to add more to his .... To be "too kind" sexually is to be promiscuous and thus "unkind" to the marriage relationship. The theme of "unklndneas," permeating the play, has been described thus far as primarily sexual. But it also appears in Don Carlos in the sense of a breakdown in family relationships. Gomez's warning to Carlos to be "Obedient," though the King has "prov'd unkind," may be understood as referring to the collapse of the "kindness" binding father and son. Having been robbed by his father of his bride-to-be, Carlos laments, "A cruel Father thus destroys his Son" (I, 78). And as the King's Jealousy grows, Posa warns Carlos and the Queen, "The King, the King your Father's jealous grown; /Forgetting her, his Queen, or you his Son" (III, 194-195), In the confrontation which follows between Carlos, the Queen, and the King, Carlos attempts to address the King, "Father, if I may dare to call you so, / Since now I doubt if I'm your Son or no" (III, 309-310), but the King replies, "Will then that Monster dare to speak again?" (312). The suggestion is that, at least for the King, "kindness" has collapsed and son has become "Monster." The loss of "kind" extends to _ include the King's relationship with the Queen, for when Gomez insinuates that against the King's commands Carlos is visiting the Queen, the King exclaims (IV, 300-302): Woman! Monstrous Woman I Did I for this into my breast receive The promising repenting Fugitive? And finally Carlos, his "heart" poisoned "with the Dishonours" done to

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, 1 . ; 148 ruddy.' But Solomon's bride only dreams of a separation from her lord. For Monlmia, the separation Is reality. The echo from the biblical past seems for her to vibrate with the loneliness of her condition and with an ironic prophecy of her irrevocable loss. For the effect of past actions on Monlmia and Castallo is their lrr«eoncllabl« separation. To alter present effect would necessitate the removal of past cause, which Monlmia vainly wishes (V, 211-213): Oh! were it possible that we could drown V In dark Oblivion but a few past hours. We might be happy. But as Almanzor, in The Conquest of Granada , recognizes, the destruction of even a small part of the past is impossible: So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain Would, like divided waters, join again. It wonnot be. . . . 44 Like a chain with minutes as the links, time would collapse if only one link were removed. The only alternative, it seems, that Monlmia has to escape present effect is to annihilate, not time, but herself, and this she chooses when she drinks "a healing draught / For all my Cares... (V, 427-428). But before she takes this course of action, Castallo comes to understand the cause of their estrangement. Like Oedipus seeking to Henry Ainsworth understood the phrase to refer to Christ who "in his glory had his face shining as the Sun, and his rainment white as the light . ..." Solomon's Song of Songs in English Meter and with Annotations (London, 1639), p. 41. See Act V, 425-417 for another possible echo from Solomon's Song. Works of John Dryden , ed. Walter Scott and George Saintsbury, IV, p. 74. '-..''

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149 unravel the past, he asks Monimia why, when beneath her window, she was "Deaf to [his] Cryes and senseless of [his] pains" (V, 256); and like Jocasta, she begs him "to forbear inquiry" (257) . He insists that she "Unfold this riddle e're my thought* grow wild" (266), but she tells him. "We ne're must meet again" (270). In Castalio's reply may be heard an echo, not from the classical, but from the biblical p««t (274276): Thou art my hearts inheritance, I serv'd A long and painful, faithful slavery for thee, And who shall rob me of the dear bought blessing? Jacob labored seven years for Rachel, only to be robbed of his blessing by Laban's duplicity (Genesis 29:9-25), even as Castalio is robbed of Monimia by his brother's dissembling. Yet Jacob and Castalio are not altogether comparable, for Jacob finally won Rachel, while Castalio loses Monimia, not only because of Polydore's deception, but in a very real sense because of his own overprudent dissembling. His loss is indeed the Inheritance of his own craft. The answer to the riddle comes from Polydore. Left by Monimia, the overprudent Castalio, now forced to solve the mystery of his past, meets Polydore, who is suffering the effect of his imprudent past, and their meeting seems an emblem of the reversals which time has brought them. From one who prayed heaven to bless his present, "Dispose of me hereafter as you please" (III, 429), Polydore is changed into one who fears the effects which present action may cause (V, 304-307): To live, and live a Torment to my self, Vlhat Dog would bear't that knew but his Condition? We have little knowledge, and that makes us Cowards; Because it cannot tell us what's to come.

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150 Once desirous to emulate the freedom of animals, he now seems aware that taan differs profoundly from animal nature, for though an animal, man has reason sufficient to make him wary of effects which may result from present causes improperly understood. For sheer weight of tragic pathos, the duel scene between the two brothers is surely one of the greatest in dramatic literature. Left bewildered by Monimia's declaration that she must ever "be a stranger to thy Love" (V, 280) , Castalio (ironically) seeks consolation from Polydore, but Polydore tells him, "I fear, Castalio . I have none to give thee" (V, 326). By a kind, though diffident probing, Polydore leads him to confess his fault: "why this mourning, this disorder"; "didst thou e're conceal thy thoughts from Polydore ?" (331; 336). Castalio replies (337; 340-348): Oh, much too oft.... Our Destiny contriv'd , . To plague us both with one unhappy Love: Thou like a Friend, a constant generous Friend, In its first pangs didst trust me with thy passion, Whilst I still smooth'd my pain with smiles before thee, And made a Contract I ne're meant to keep. Pol . How! Cast . Still new ways I study 'd to abuse thee. And kept thee as a stranger to my Passion, Till yesterday I wedded with Monimia. Having prompted this confession, Polydore prepares to reveal the effect of this dissembling and the cause for Castalio 's misery. First, he lashes Castalio verbally, cancelling their friendship, calling him "Traytor" (353-355). Bewildered by this onslaught, Castalio says, "I've lost all happiness, and know not why" (357). Polydore continues to damn him, finally provoking a duel in which he runs upon Castallo's sword. At that Instant, mortally wounded, he fmswers for Castalio the riddle of the past.

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151 The motives which lead Polydore to provoke the duel seem complex. In one sense, the duel serves as an emblem of both the cause and effect of the tragedy: all that caused the tragedy Is now brought into the open— the attitude (though unintended) Implicit In their pursuit of Monlmia that she is a "Whore" (375-378), "A common stake, a prize for love in Jest" (I, 262),^^ and dissembling speech (Polydore's vilification of Castallo are deliberate lies). The effect of these causes is also present in the duel. Lord Kames, in The Elements of Criticism (1762), offers an intelligent and sensitive statement explaining Polydore's motives in provoking the duel, and his criticism reflects the effect which the past now has on the two brothers: Castallo and Polydore. . .had sworn mutual confidence: Castallo broke his faith. . .which unwarily betrayed Polydore into. . .polluting his brother's bed. Thus he . [Polydore] had injured his brother, and was injured by him: justice prompted him to make full atonement by his own death; resentment against his brother required a full atonement to be made to himself. In coexistent passions so contradictory, one of them commonly prevails after a struggle: but here happily an expedient occurred to Polydore for gratifying both, which was, that he should provoke his brother to put him to death. Polydore's crime, in his own opinion, merited that punishment; and justice was satisfied, when he fell by the hand of the man he had Injured: he wanted, at the same time to punish his brother for breach of faith; and he could not do this more effectually, than by betraying his brother to be his executioner. 46 Made to confess his fault, and to re-enact in the duel the cause and effect of his condition, Castallo has been led by Polydore to the moment of final clarification. * See also acta IV, 375; V, 152-15A. 46 Quoted In Taylor, p. 23.

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152 Polydore tells him, "I've staln'd thy Bed, thy spotless Marriage Joys /Have been polluted by thy Brothers Lust" (V, 410-411). Admitting his blame, he then makes Castallo recognize his own share of the blame (431-440)! Hadst thou, Castallo . us'd me like a Friend, This ne're had happem'd; hadst thou let me know Thy Marriage, we had all now met in Joy; But ignorant of that, Hearing th' appointment made, enrag'd to think Thou hadst out-done me in successful Love, I in the dark went and supply 'd thy place; Whilst all the Night, midst our Triumphant Joys, The trembling, tender, kind, deceiv'd Monimia Embrac'd, Carest, and call'd me her Castallo . Castallo, knowing now why he has "lost all happiness," is left alone with the effects of his deceit: the ruin of Monimia, the "murder" of his brother, and, when Acasto learns what has happened, the probable "sin of Parricide" (443-448). Unable to endure these effects, Castallo kills himself, but not before uttering an apocalyptic curse upon mankind (V, 502-509): Confusion and disorder seize the World, To spoyl all trust and converse amongst men; 'Twixt Families ingender endless f ewds , In Countrys needless fears, in Cities factions. In States Rebellion, and in Churches Schism: Till all things move against the course of Nature; Till Form's dissolv'd, the Chain of Causes broken. And the Originals of Being lost. His curse seems to summarize the cause of his own predicament, reflecting the spoiling of trust and conversation between himself and Polydore, the feud between them, and between Acasto *s family and Chamont; but the curse also generalizes Castallo 's own experience into a condition that every man, all families, "Countrys," "Cities," "States," and "Religions"

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153 will suffer. And the final effect of such a cursed condition is annihilation—the breaking of the "chain of causes" and the Utter collapsing of time and human history. V In a world governed by cause and effect, there exists, however, a very real, though strict, form of justice. A character in Dryden's and Lee's Oedipus (1679) describes it thus: There's a chain of causes Linked to effects; invincible necessity That whate're is, could not but so have been; That's my security. ^^ It is to be sure a bleak security, but nonetheless one which rests upon the ultimate Justice that whatever is, is right, since all exists as the Just effect of certain causes. And even though the remote sins of past generations may have an effect upon their present, Polydore, Castallo, and Monimia are largely responsible for their own destiny, for they set in motion the immediate causes whose effects they must experience. The kind of Justice conveyed by this cause and effect is like that in St. Paul's proverb, "for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap" (Gal. 6:7)— a Justice shared by both the natural and moral world. By the end of the play, as Chamont surveys the tragic scene, he seems to understand the Justice of the effects wrought by dissembling, distrust, and falseness (V, 529-530): Works of John Drvden . ed. Scott and Saintsbury, VI, 138-139.

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154 'Tls thus that Heaven It's Empire does maintain. It may Afflict, but man must not Complain. Governing by a "chain of causes /Linked to effects," heaven Justly maintains Its empire, punishing 111 causes with 111 effects. Chamont did not easily achieve this uncomplaining acceptance of heaven's goveiminent. Until the last scene of the play, he seems to think of himself as one capable both of determining and effecting Justice. And from the moment he enters the play, there are associated 48 with him the traditional emblems of justice, the sword and the scales. In their first conversation In the play, Chamont expresses to Monlmla his fears that she Is betraying her honor with Acasto's sons. She Interrupts to plead her Innocence, but he tells her, "Hear all, and then let Justice hold the scale" (II, 242). Later he tells Acasto, "I'll calmly hear the story, /For I would fain know all, to see which Scale /Weighs most..." (IV, 280-282). His desire for justice, moreover, Is emphatic throughout the latter part of the play. Finding Monlmla In tears, he says, "Tell me the story of thy Wrongs; and then/ See If my soul has rest till thou hast justice" (IV, 165-166); when she refuses, he tells her, "You use me 111, Monlmla ; /And I might think with Justice most severely / Of this unfaithful dealing with your Brother" (IV, 177179). After she Informs him of Castallo's cruel treatment of her, he encounters Acasto, tells him that Castallo has wronged Monlmla (IV, 317322), and demands, "Do her Justice, /Or by the Gods I'll lay a Scene of Blood, /Shall make this Dwelling horrible to Nature" (323-325). Acasto answers, "You shall have Justice," and he replies, "Nay — I will have 48 Erwln Fanofsky, Studies In Iconblogy (New York, 1939), pp. 13; 84.

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155 Justice" (328-329). But Otway suggests In The Orphan that man cannot of his own will and knowledge effect justice. In the first place, because he is a creature of passion as well as reason, he often is blind to what Is Just; and because he has "little knowledge," he often is ignorant of th« true cause* of injustice. For these reasons, it seetne, though Chamont desires justice, he is ineffective. He admits to Acasto that his "Nature's jealous" (II, 177), not only of Monimia's honor, but his own (II, 206-218); and when Monlmia tells him that Castalio has treated her cruelly, he takes that cruelty as an affront to himself as well as to Monlmia (V, 82-87) . Almost literally blinded by the passion that wells up in him (he confronts (IV, 268-282) and fails to recognize Acasto), he pursues Castalio, challenges him to a duel, and only after the true cause for the tragedy is revealed does he recognize his mistake. Castalio then points out Chamont 's blind, impassioned pursuit of justice (V, 496-498): Thou, unkind Chamont , Unjustly hast pursu'd me with thy hate. And sought the life of him that never wrong'd thee.... Passion and the ignorance of true causes ironically turn Chamont 's efforts to procure justice into acts of injustice. But the ultimate reason why Chamont cannot right the wrongs done Monlmia is that one of the causes lies beyond his reach in the far distant past. Having learned of Castalio 's cruel treatment of Monlmia, Chamont, blinded by passion, momentarily fails to recognize Acasto, curses him, but then, recognizing him, asks forgiveness. Acasto asks, "Whence came the Cause?" (IV, 290), and Chamont 's answer is a parable (294-302) :

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• 156 You took her up a little tender Flower, Just sprouted on a Bank, which the next Frost Had nipt; and with a careful loving hand Transplanted her into your own fair Garden, Where the Sun always shines; there long she flourish'd, Grew Sweet to sense, and Lovely to the eye, Till at the last a Cruel Spoiler came, Cropt this fair Rose, and rifled all its Sweetness; Then cast it like a loathsome Weed away. The "Cause" of Chamont's desire for justice, veiled by this parable, is ostensibly the wrong Castalio has done to Monimia. But the imagery in the parable has wider significance, being reminiscent of the deflowering of Eve in Eden. Consequently, the "Cause" which Chamont demands to be rectified is in reality the first fault of mankind from which springs all subsequent faults, but to right the wrongs of Eden no man can do. ' Chamont finally accepts the right of heaven to administer justice and maintain its empire, and his final acceptance seems commensurate with his general attitudes throughout the play, for if there is in The Orphan an emblem of right behavior it is Chamont. Though mistaken in his belief that he can effect justice, there yet is something noble in the desire. Chamont seems moreover to understand human nature, warning Monimia to beware its faults, and counselling prudence (II, 287-291). He himself refuses to engage in dissembling or to hide his heart (III, 109-110; 113-114): I am unpractis'd in the Trade of Courtship, And know not how to deal Love out with Art. So I would open my whole heart at once. And pour out the abundance of my Soul. If Castalio and Monimia had followed this prudent course instead of hiding their hearts from Polydore and Acasto, the effect of their marriage would have been different and all would have "met in Joy"; dealing

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157 honestly with Acasto, Chamont wins the love of Serlna, and ultimately he wins serenity itself in his calm acceptance of heaven's will. But though Chamont seems to provide an emblem of how man may survive in the spiritual wilderness created by man's fallen nature, the image of the "Beast of Reason" which emerges from The Orphan is bleak. Passion e«ns too oft«n In control of reason, and, as in Godfrey Goodman's The Fall of Man (1619), The Orphan seems to repeat, "mans nature is corrupted, mans nature is corrupted: and therefore with patience we must endure the yoke, no longer sonnes of a loving mother, but servants and slaves to a stepdame." Perhaps the play's title should be taken broadly to refer, not just to Monimia or Chamont, but to man himself, Eden's own orphan. For the image of man in The Orphan seems like that Spenser describes in the Faerie Queene (II, II, ii, 5-12) : Poore Orphane in the wide world scattered, As budding braunch rent from the native tree, And throwen forth, till it be withered: Such is the state of men: thus enter wee Into this life with woe, and end with mise^ee.^^ 49 Quoted in Victor Harris, All Coherence Gone (Chicago, 1949X p. 37. J. C. Smith and E. De Selincourt, eds. The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser (London, 1960), p. 76.

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CHAPTER V Venice Preserv'd . Otway's last and best tragedy, acted February 9, 1682, appeared at a time of Tory rejoicing following Charles II 's triumph at Oxford over Shaftesbury and the exclusionists. The Tories, loudly applauding its performance, apparently adopted the play as emblematic of their Oxford victory, for Charles attended the play on February 11, the poet's day; it was chosen as entertainment on April 21 in honor of the Duke of York's return from exile; and it was acted on 2 May 31 in celebration of the Duchess of York's return. The special appeal the play held for the Tories lay no doubt in its satiric caricatures of Shaftesbury as the lecherous senator Antonio and the consplrator Renault. Yet in a more general way, the play's appeal must have existed also in the attack Otway makes on Venice, the republican state so ardently admired by the Whigs . By the late seventeenth century, republicans, both in England and on the Continent, had created a popular myth of an ideal Venice. An Ghosh, I, 54. See Ogg, II, 613-619, for a description of Charles's triumph at Oxford. 2 Ghosh, I, 54. John Robert Moore, "Contemporary Satire in Otway's Venice Preserv'd. " PMLA, A3 (1928), 173-178, provides a detailed examination of the caricatures. See also Aline Mackenzie Taylor, Next to Shakespeare (Durham, 1950), pp. 54-58. 4 Venice as a model government for Whig republicans is discussed at length in chapter two, "The Most Serene Republic," of Fink's The Classical Republicans . 158 :..:' r : , .

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159 awareness of at least the significant aspects of this myth should enable us to understand not only the play's partisan appeal, but the extent to which Otway's attack on the republican myth of Venice shapes the imagery of his play. The esteem, for example, which republicans in England bestowed on Venice arose largely from their conviction that, «B Zera Fink remarks, "the Venetians had created a government with ao perfect an adjustment of its organs that it was not subject to decay." ^ Fink's Imagery reflects that of Renaissance and seventeenth-century writers who sang the praises of the serene republic, imagery implicit in Machiavelll's description of Venice as a state "that confines itself ...to its own preservation."^ Casparo Contarini, the first great mythologizer of an ideal Venice, maintains in The Commonwealth and Government of Venice (London, 1599) that for centuries Venice had been preserved unchanged and uncorrupted and would continue in the same condition until the end of the world. ^ The preservation of Venice is proclaimed also in a poem by Thuanus, found in James Howell's A Survay of the Slfinorie of Venice (London. 1651) : "Till Nature and the Universe decline, / Venice within her Watry Orb shall shine." ^ And in his P olitick Discourses (London, 1657), Paolo Paruta states that Venice, "not having given way to such corruptions as use to trouble the quiet of civil life... hath been able for a very long space of time to maintain herself in one and the same condition...."^ M«^ "^^Si?? r*^ ^"fi^^^ Political Thought in the Seventeenth Century," Modem Philology . 38 (1940-1941), 158. ««-ury, ^The Discourses , tr. Christian E. Detmold (New York, 1950). p. 123. Fink, The Classical Republicans , pp. 39-40. V3. 9 Quoted in Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 37,

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160 In England, James Howell, whose view of Venice seems to border on the mystical, helped to perpetuate the myth of a changeless Venice. In Instructions for F6rralne Travel (London, 1642), he claims that for "twelve long ages" Venice has been preserved "under the same forme and face of Government without any visible change or symptome of decay, or the least wrinkle of old age." Janea Harrington states a similar view in The Commonwealth of Oceana ; "Venice... is the only commonwealth in the make whereof no man can find a cause of dissolution; for which reason we behold her... at this day with one thousand years upon her back, yet for any internal cause, as young, as fresh, and free from decay, or an appearance of it, as she was born; but whatever in Nature is not sensible of decay by the course of a thousand years, is capable of the whole age of Nature...." As late as 1681, Heniry Nevill, in an attempt, just prior to the Oxford Parliament, to sway both King and Parliament towards a republican government based on Venetian models, published his Plato Redivivus in which he repeats the "favorite notion of Venetian admirers that the state had lasted for twelve centuries 12 • without change." In 1677, four years before Nevill 's book, there had appeared in England a fully-developed attack upon the myth of a preserved Venice — the translation of Amelot de la Houssaye's phenomenally successful book. ^ ^Ibid .. p. 48. •'•'•p. 232. 12 Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 130.

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161 13 The History of the Government of Venice . In the Preface, Houssaye states the common-sense view that Venice "like other Nations" is "made up of good and bad...," and then briefly traces the growth of Vetiice 15 * from birth to "old age." '' The book as a whole deflates the mythic proportions of Venice to a recognizable and realistic commonwealth: "...new Laws are created every day; but being too frequent, they are seldom observed..."; thus "the Seignory. . .cajole the People with a false appearance of liberty...." Moreover, "the Senat cajoles the People by suffering them to live idly and debauch 'd, having no better way to debase them, and to render them obedient than to indulge them their pleasures and licentiousness of life, which they call Liberty, though in effect it is the greatest occasion of their slavery." '"^ He 19 then describes the lack of justice; the corruption of the clergy to 20 which the Senate caters; the wide-spread prevalence of whores and the necessity of allowing them to practice their trade, since "the Maladies of State are incurable when they are old; and that a Cacochemical and ill-affected Body is better let alone in Repose, than to have the Humors stirr'd by Physick that cannot carry them off."^-*The diversity and 13_, , , The translator's name is not given (at least not in the copy at my disposal) in the London, 1677, edition. Houssaye, according to Fink, The Classical Republicans , "spent three years in Venice in a minor diplomatic capacity..." (p. 142). p. 5. . pp. A-5. "p. 30. "p. 41. "p. 42. %p. 68-70. 21 ,, p. 72.

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162 depth of Houssaye's attack on the myth of Venice culminates In the chapter entitled "A Discourse containing the Chief Causes of the decay of the Venetian Commonwealth," wherein Houssaye maintains that "if it be true that a state can never maintain It self, but by means conformable to ItiB principle, no wonder if the Republick of Venice conceived in f««r, brought forth In the Waters, brought up in Poverty, and elevated 22 in Peace, began to decline from its greatness...." To present Houssaye's description of Venice is not to imply Otway's indebtedness, though such a possibility is attested to by the popularity of a book which, from its first appearance in France in 1674 to its translation into English in 1677, went through twenty-two editions, 23 including translations into other languages. The point is that doubt as to the myth of a changeless Venice was in the air. By employing imagery of decay and corruption, Otway seems to attack in Venice Preserv'd the republican myth of the unchangiijg state, "in such a wretched State as this of Venice " (I, 207), one is almost overwhelmed by the odor of decadence: in Antonio, a "rank old bearded Hirco" whom Pierre finds embracing Aquilina and drives "stinking home" (I, 193), > and whose lechery is excited even by the smell of Aquilina' s "dear fragrant foots and little toes, sweet as, e e e e . . ." (V, 207-208); in Renault, "That mortify'd old wither'd Winter Rogue" (III, 11, 235), whose attempted rape of Belvidera leads Jaffeir to reflect bitterly on "how the old Fox stunk... /When the rank fit was on him" (III, ii, 245246) , and then to decide to "put him to some tryal" to "See how his 22 p. 254. 23 Fink, The ClAsaical Republicans , p. 143.

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163 rotten part will bear the touching" (III. li, 267-268); and even in Aqullina, who has the "Taint" of "Fool" about her, "a sully." an infection left by the embrace of Antonio (II. A-9) . To redeem herself with Pierre, Aquilina threatens her serv'ants that if ever they admit Antonio again they shall be "poison'd all, poison'd. like Rats: every Comer of the house shall stink of one of you..." (HI. i, 140-142). In so wretched a state as Venice, Jaffeir remarks, "Senators should rot / Like Dogs on Dunghills; but their Wives and Daughters / D^^e of their own diseases" (II, 120-122). And Priuli laments that "a disease / Incurable has seiz'd upon my memory /To make it rot and stink to after ages" (V, 6-8). Pervasive as such imagery is in the play, the list of instances could be considerably increased, but what seems apparent even on a cursory reading needs no elaboration. Instead, it should simply be remarked that the overwhelming presence of these images of decay, corruption, and disease functions not as an indication of Otway's misanthropy and disillusion,^^ but as part of Otway's deflation of the myth that Venice is preserved without decay. Images of sexuality in the play have a function similar to those of decay. Writers who extolled Venice generally associated her changelessness with virginity. Thomas Coryate's Crudities (1611) describes Venice as "this incomparable city, this most beautiful Queene, this untainted vlrglne..." , and Howell, who seems fascinated by the figure, repeating it in practically all of his works, states that Venice ^William H. McBumey, in "Otway's Tragic Muse Debauched: Sensuality in Venice Preserv'd ." JEGP, 58 (1959), reads the play as expressing Otway's "basic misanthropy and disillusion..." (p. 396). ^^Quoted in Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 44, ftn. 74.

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164 26 "hath continued a Virgin. . .nere upon twelve long ages...." And In Observations Topographical . Moral , and Physiological (1673) , John Ray remarks that Venice "hath continued a Vlrgln-Clty, (having never been 27 rsviahed nor attempted by an Enemy) since its first foundation....*' But In Venice Preserved Pierre strikes directly at this myth of a virgin city (II, 292-295)! How lovely the Adriatlque Whore, Drest in her Flames, will shine! devouring Flames! Such as shall bum her to the watery bottom And hiss in her Foundation. And later, when brought before the senate in chains, Pierre defends himself (IV, 232-238): Are these the Trophies I've deserv'd for fighting Your Battels with confederated Powers, When winds and Seas conspir'd to overthrow you. And brought the Fleets of Spain to your o\m Harbours? When you, great Duke, shrunk trembling in your Palace, And saw your Wife, th' Adriatick, plough 'd Like a lew'd Whore by bolder Prows than yours.... But not only is the "Adriatick" Venice personified as a whore; one of the principal characters, Aquillna (whose name may recall "Aquileia . which Town," Houssaye remarks, "was anciently the Metropolis of the 28 Province of Venice...," and thus may identify her as an emblem of Venice), is indeed a whore, and her house even serves as the setting for much of the play's action. Furthermore, one need only recall the perverse sexuality of the Venetian senator Antonio and the lechery of 96 Ibid ., p. AS. 27 p. 150. 28 Houssaye, p. 203.

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165 Renault to be reminded that the Venice of the play is anything but a virgin city. Embraces and allusions to sexual love seem omnipresent in the play, so much so that William H. McBumey is led to say that "The play is outstanding among the traditional masterpieces of English 29 tragic literature in its insistent physicality." Another aspect of the myth of Venice to come under attack in Venice Preserv'd is the popular belief that Venetian government "was so contrived as to overcome the natural evil which [Venetians] shared with other men." ^° In The Impartial Trimmer (1682) , an anonymous poet declared: happy Venice, whose good Laws are such. No private Crime the pub lick Peace can touch. 31 The clearest expression of this myth is found in Harrington's Oceana , and I should like to quote it at length: Unless a man will deny the chain of causes, in which he denies God, he must also acknowledge the chain of effects; wherefore there can be no effect in Nature that is not from the first cause, and those successive links of the chain without which it could not have been. Now except a man can show the contrary in a commonwealth, if there be no cause of corruption in the first make of it, there can never be any such effect. Let no man's superstition impose profaneness upon this assertion; for as man is sinful, but yet the universe is perfect, so may the citizen be sinful, and yet the commonwealth be perfect. And as man, seeing the world is perfect, can never commit any such sin as shall render it imperfect, or bring it to a natural dissolution, so the citizen, where the commonwealth is perfect, can never commit any such crime ^s will render 29 McBumey, p. 392. 30 Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 61. ^ ^Ibid .. p. 137.

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166 It imperfect, or bring it to a natural dissolution. To come to experience: Venice, notwithstanding we have found some flaws in it, is the only commonwealth in the make whereof no man can find a cause of dissolution; for which reason we behold her (though ehe consists of men that are not without sin) at this day with one thousand years upon her back, yet for any internal cause, as young, as fresh, and free from decay, or any appearance of It, as she was born.... Houssaye, however, rejects this myth, for after cataloging the faults of Venetian government, he concludes, "And indeed no Government can be 33 perfect, because there will be Exorbitances whilst there are men." Otway seems in agreement with Houssaye, for the "Exorbitances" of Venetian senators are everywhere present in Venice Preserv'd . Pierre calls the senators "Domestick spoilers" (I, 163), describing how private vice destroys public good (I, 153-160): . . .our Senators Cheat the deluded people with a shew Of Liberty, which yet they ne'r must taste of; They say, by them our hands are free from Fetters, Yet whom they please they lay in basest bonds; Bring whom they please to Infamy and Sorrow; Drive us like Wracks down the rough Tide of Power, Whilst no hold's left to save us from Destruction.... Jaffelr remarks that in Venice "all agree to spoil the Publick Good" (I, 208); Pierre replies (I, 211-215): ...the foundation's lost of Common Good; Justice is ' lame as well as blind amongst us; The Laws (corrupted to their ends that make 'em) Serve but fbr Instruments of some new Tyranny, That every day starts up to enslave us deeper.... 32 p. 232. 33 %. 72.

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167 Though Harrington and other republicans believe that a perfect form of government may remain unsullied by human vice, Otway seems to assert in Venice Preserv'd that, no matter how perfect its form, government cannot remain impervious to the imperfections of men who make and enforce its laws: the alloy of government is inevitably the governors. Government, In fact, la so closely related In the play to the citizens that its very existence depends in large measure upon their actions. Critics of Venice Preserv'd who express "irritation with a plot In which political events are decided by domestic issues" miss the point. Otway 's deliberate interweaving of political with private actions strikes at the core of the republican myth that Venetian government exists, as it were, in a vacuum, where it remains undisturbed by private human actions. Pierre is justly motivated to rebel against Venice because of the senate's corruption, but he is equally motivated by the private and domestic loss of his mistress who has been "purchased" by a senator. And Jaffelr is drawn Into rebellion, not only by a desire to correct civil wrongs, but to revenge on the state his wife's sufferings which his own prodigality largely caused. And later Jaffelr' s decision to save Venice from civil war is again motivated In part by love for Belvldera and a desire to revenge the dishonour a conspirator had brought upon her. The destruction or preservation of Venice depends upon the private morality and acts of it inhabitants, not just on the perfection of its form of government. In view of the extensive attack Otway makes on the republican myth 34 Taylor, p. 39. I am in general disagreement with Taylor's reading of the play.

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,;; • 168 of Venice, there is little wonder that the Tories, still tasting the sweets of victory, so wildly applauded the play's appearance. Moreover, the play ultimately is a defense of England's government. And though It may seem odd at first, Otway manages this defense by making the play's Venice representative of restoration England. Otway certainly had precedent in drawing a parallel between Venice and England. "Englishmen had long cherished the idea that their King was more like 35 the Doge of Venice than like any other Continental sovereign...." And in 1651 Howell had written in his Preface to A Survay of the Signo rle of Venice; Moreover , if likeness may beget love , England hath reason to affect Venice more than arr^ other , for in point of security Ther is much resemblance between them , being both seated in the Sea , who is their best Protector ; The one preserves Her-self by her Gallies . the other by her Galeons ; The fairest flower of England ±s^ the Dominion of the Narrow Seas . the greatest glory of Venice l£ the Dominion of the Adriatic Gulph 700 miles in extent. ...-'" But even though Englishmen had been conditioned by praise of Venice to think of their own country as parallel in certain respects to that republic, it should be clear that the parallel which exists in Venice Preserv'd consists only of the imperfections which plague both states. Critics have often remarked that Renault, one of the play's conspirators, is a virulent caricature of Shaftesbury, and that indeed the 37 play's conspiracy is designed to call to mind the Whig conspiracy. 35 Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 46. 36 Big. BV. 37 See Moore's essay, already cited, and Fink, The Classical Republicans , pp. 145-146.

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169 The play's characters repeatedly refer to the conspiracy as the "glorious Cause," or simply the "Cause," and a restoration audience could hardly fail to associate the term with the phrase the "good old cause" commonly used since 1660 to describe Puritan extremists, and, by 1681, "turned into a verbal weapon by the Tories in order to smear contemporary Whig extremists " ^8 conspiracy, furthermore, would not be far from the memory of Tories, since affairs in England had reached the point, just prior to the Oxford Parliament in March, 1681, that, as Ogg states, "everywhere there were rumours of the appeal to force and civil war."^^ Whigs (as well as Tories) went armed to Oxford, and Fink adds that "the variety of the evidence is such as to enable us to say with certitude that Venetian precedents [i.e., forms of Venetian government] were in the minds... of Whigs generally and in particular of those who were seen by the Tories as involved in a plot to subvert the government, and who in the period after Charles's sudden dissolution of the Oxford Parliament .. .resorted to plans for an insurrection." Whig conspiracy, then, was very much in the air when V enice Preserv'd was performed, and with Shaftesbury, the Whig leader, caricatured in the figure of Renault, the active leader of the play's conspiracy, it is highly probable that the Tory audience drew the parallel that seems expected. Logical extensions of such parallels make the Venice of the play representative of England, and Venetian government representative of 38 ^^«^''"» "j Hopkins, " 'The Good Old Cause' in Pope, Addison, and Steele, Review of English Studies , 17 (February, 1966), 62-6A. Ogg, H, 614. 40 The Classical Republicans , p. 139.

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170 English government. Any other view results in the strained interpretation Fink makes: Venice as it appears in the play is a hostile, Tory representation, not of the England that the Whigs were accused of conspiring against, but of what is taken as the Whig ideal of a Venetian state. Otway thus aimed a double-barreled attack at the Whigs. He satirized them both as conspirators and as wishing to introduce a corrupt and vicious Venetian system into England. The conspirators of the play are the Whig conspirators; the Venice of it is a representation of what they would set up in England.,.. If it be objected that this interpretation makes the conspirators of the play stand in the allegory for the system which they were plotting to overthrow, I answer that this need not bother us in a play in which Shaftesbury in his character as Renault 'plots to overthrow Shaftesbury in his character as Antonio, the Venetian senator.... Otway, however, is not as clumsy as Fink would suggest. There is evidence in the play to indicate that Venice is indeed representative of the England ruled by Charles II. A prime example of such evidence is Renault's speech to the conspirators (II, 265-271): The publick Stock's a Beggar; one Venetian Trusts not another: Look into their Stores Of general safety; Empty Magazines, A tatter' d Fleet, a murmuring unpaid Army, Bankrupt Nobility, a harrast Commonalty, A Factious, giddy, and divided Senate, Is all the strength of Venice . . . . The distrust between Venetians is parallel to that between Englishmen in the late 1670 's and early 1680' s. In his Prologue, Otway writes (1-5): ^^Ibld., pp. 147-148.

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171 In these distracted times , when each man dreads The bloudy stratagems of busle heads ; When we have fear'd three years we know not what . Till Witnesses begin to die o' th' rot . What made our Poet meddle with a_ Plot ? • The three years prior to Venice Preserv'd had witnessed the exploits of Titus Gates and his fantastic Popish Plot, three years In which neighbors were frightened of each other and grudges were repaid by false witness. Ogg reports that "Round Dates there surged a broth, all the Ingredients of which had the same characteristic flavour. Incriminating letters were found behind wainscots or at the bottom of tubs; concocted papers were 'planted' on victims and then searched for; accused persons turned Informers, and victimized others; the families of the archinformers took up the prosperous trade of papist-hunting, or made money by informing against their own relatives; confessions were recanted and again sworn-to; both truth and honour were completely dissolved In this 42 boiling mass." Certainly if "One Venetian / Trusts not another..., neither did an Englishman trust his fellow citizen. The description, moreover, of Venice's depleted "Stores / Of general Safety," "Empty Magazines. . .tatter 'd Fleet [and] murmuring unpaid Army" aptly describes England's military condition. England's practice of paying her disbanded soldiers with debentures rather than with ready money was notorious. Perhaps drawing upon his own experience when disbanded from military service in the summer of 1679, Otway has Courtine say in Act I, 11. 187-194, of The Souldiers Fortune (1680): ^^Ogg. II. 597.

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172 ...'twas Fortune made me a Souldler, a Rogue In Red, the grievance of the Nation. . .then Fortune disbanded us, and lost us two Months pay: Fortune gave us Debentures instead of ready Money, and by very good Fortune I sold mine, and lost heartily by it, in hopes the grinding ill natur'd dog that bought it will never get a shilling for't — The sailor fared no better than the soldier, "and the years 1679-84, when commlSBlonerahlps were given to men without naval experience, were years of neglect and decline in the English Navy." Equally applicable to England is Renault's reference to "A FactloiB, giddy, and divided Senate," perhaps even more so, since the Venetian senate was not based upon a party system, and, as Fink remarks, "the Venetians had a keen sense of the disasters which factional feuds had brought to other Italian cities...." The secret ballot which the Venetian senate employed made it "impossible to enforce on occasion or assert consistently that party discipline without which political parties do not readily maintain themselves." . Even Houssaye does not accuse the Venetian senate of factions. Instead, he states that the senate, fearful of the power of the people, "kept the City divided into two contrary Parties..." in order "to divide and weaken the People. .. ."^^ A3 Ibid., I, 260. The reference to Venetian weakness (while reflecting conditions in England) is also an attack on republican estimates of Venetian strength; see Howell, A Survay of the Slgnorie of Venice : "this rare perpetuity of the Republic of Venice may be ascribed allso to her Treasure , and Arsenal , whereof the one is grown to be a proverb for riches , the other for strength, being stord with huge magazines of both" (p. 5). Houssaye, however, writes that the senate's extreme frugality had emptied the Arsenal and left Venice unprepared to counter foreign attacks (Fink, The Classical Republicans , p. 143). 44 The Classical Republicans , p. 32. *^Ibid., pp. 32-33. 46 Houssaye, pp. 45-46.

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173 But the same cannot be said for the English Parliament; the reign of Charles II is characterized by the violent factions that sprang up between the Court and Country parties, and the bitterness of the division is Illustrated by Ogg's description of an incident which occurred in the spring of 1675: How evenly parties were divided and how strongly personal feelings had been aroused was shown when the question of a further address for the recall of British soldiers abroad was first put to the House in Grand Committee (May 10) ; for 135 were counted on each side, and when the numbers were disputed, there was a scene in which periwigs were torn off, swords were drawn, some honourable members spat in the faces of their opponents, while others put their feet on the mace, which lay under the table.... These factions finally led to the birth of the modern party system Whig and Tory but the gestation and travail which produced the system, Ogg states, "almost rent the nation in sunder." With Venice then representative of England, Otway's defense of Tory government lies, not merely in the fact that Venice is saved, but In the reason which Otway dramatically provides for that preservation. Ironically, it is spoken by Renault in defense of the conspiracy (III, 11, 383-385): Then let's call to mind, my dearest Friends, That there's nothing pure upon the Earth, That the most valu'd things have most allays.... Government, rather than rebellion, is, in the play, man's "most valu'd" possession, thus subject to most alloys. If the conspirators had ^Vg. II. 531-532. *®Ibld., II, 606-607.

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174 succeeded in their rebellion, it seems quite evident from the play that their government would have been no less alloyed than the one overthrown, for though the senate has its Shaftesbury in Antonio, the conspirators have theirs in Renault. And the slaughter that would accompany so futile a change of government would have destroyed the city. In this context, Otway's dramatic defense of government resembles a statement made by Houssaye following his remark that "no Government can be perfect, because there will be Exorbitances whilst there are men": "This it was made the Great Cosmo de Medicis say, that the City of Florence had better be Corrupted than Ruined , implying that a Prince has more Honour b;^ preserving his Country in what condition soever , 49 than in losing it quite ." It is a bleak confirmation of government Otway makes, and it may have given the Tories, amidst their wild rejoicing, a moment of thoughtful reflection. i II 'Renault's statement that "there's nothing pure upon the Earth, / That the most valu'd things have most allays" is not only Otway's defense of government; it is the theme of Venice Preserv'd . Most of the play's richness and complexity results from Otway's careful mingling of good with evil, evil with good to create dramatically the alloyed state of man's life. As David Hauser observes, Venice Preserv'd "takes place in a world of ambivalence where good and evil are inextricably mingled and where the hinnan mind is not always capable of 49 Houssaye, p. 72,

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175 distinguishing between them." Hauser Is right In pointing out the limitation of reason In the play, for in the world of Venice Preserv'd . reason gropes for distinctions between right and wrong. Certainly questions asked by characters are abundant, questions expressing bewilderment, loss of identity, moral uncertainty, loss of direction. And complementing, perhaps eymbollelng, reaeon** incertitude, almost all of the play's action occurs at midnight, the hour of greatest darkness. The play's emphasis, however, seems to be on the will, rather than on reason. "A unique feature of the Play," remarks John Robert Moore, "is the vast amount of offering and taking of formal oaths of loyalty 51 and of truth, without a parallel in English drama." Besides "formal" oaths (e.g., I, 297-298), there are in the play a large number of "Informal" oaths: a character, for example, will swear "by my sufferings" (I, 2); "By all thy Wrongs" (II, 1); "By these tears" (IV, 30A); "By all my fears" (IV, A61) . Permeating the play with their oaths, characters continually assert their wills. But equally remarkable is the fact that so many oaths are broken. Observing that the "number of broken oaths... in the play is astounding," Hauser concludes that "in Venice Preserv'd the will is not in absolute control of events; emotions 52 war against the will and often counteract it." Hauser's remark is perceptive, for though Venice Preserv'd is not explicitly a Christian play, it nonetheless seems to be implicitly so. 50„ Otway Preserved: Theme and Form in Venice Preserv'd ." Studies in Philology . 55 (1958), 488. ~ Moore, p. 170 » 52 Hauser, pp. 48A-A85.

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^ / -'• 176 reflecting general Christian views about man's will. The play's emphasis, however, is not so much on the conflict between passion and the will as it is upon the directions the will takes when influenced either by the passion of a self-interested love or by reason and a com53 passionate love. When directed by the former, Jaffeir's will tends towards a particular and mutable good, Imaged in the play by the conspiracy; directed by the latter, his will inclines towards a universal and immutable good, imaged by the civil community. The oaths Jaffeir makes while a self-centered love inclines his will towards conspiracy are necessarily broken when reason and a charitable love incline him towards community. In order for us to understand better the kind of alteration in Jaffeir which causes him to break the oaths he made to the conspirators, it is necessary first to understand why he becomes part of the conspiracy. The answer is complex, but rests largely in the kind of love he manifests towards himself, Belvldera, and others. In his argument with Priull at the beginning of the play, Jaffeir asserts that he possesses a "Nature" which could never brook "Injustice or the doing wrongs" (I, 7-8). This proud assertion of his own goodness is contradicted by Priull, who reminds him that, after treating him "like an open friend" and making available his "House. . .Table, nay my Fortune too" (19-21), Jaffeir 53 See Aquinas, Summa Theologica (I-II, Q. 19, art. 3, respon.), tr. Fathers of the English Dominican Province, VI, 237-238. F. N. Coef f eteau comments on the relationship between love and the will in A Table of Humane Passions (1621): " Love . . .hath her seat in the Will (they [i.e., the philosophers] doe not consider it as a Passion onely, which riseth in the sences, but also as a quality which in the end becomes splrituall;) . . . .the Will being toucht with the Love of her object, suffers it selfe to bee drawne to his Image..." (p. 165).

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177 "treacherously practls'd to undo" him by marrying Belvidera without Prluli's consent or knowledge (24-26). Priuli, in fact, accuses him of being a thief: "You stole her from me, like a Theif you stole her, / At dead of night " (49-50). Jaffeir, however, declares, " 'lis to tile you owe her" (I, 27), and hlB explanation Introduces a pattern of Imagery Important to our understanding of his feeling towards Belvidera and the world at large. Jaffeir reminds Priuli of the time when, having "sail'd to see / The Adriatick wedded by our Duke" (31-32), their boat was "Dash ' t ... upon a Rock" (34); Belvidera being swept into the sea, Jaffeir plunged after her, and (41-48), Redeem 'd her Life with half the loss of mine; Like a rich Conquest in one hand I bore her, And with the other dasht the sawcy Waves, That throng 'd and prest to rob me of my prize: I brought her, gave her to your despairing Arms: Indeed you thank' t me; but a nobler gratitude Rose in her soul: for from that hour she lov'd me. Till for her Life she paid me with her self. Though Jaffeir is answering Priuli 's charge that he is a thief, the use of financial imagery in his reply indicates more than merely a refutation of thievery, for Belvidera becomes in the imagery a "rich Conquest," a "prize," which he paid for ("Redeem'd") with his heroic act. And the effect of the imagery turns their marriage into a commercial transaction, for, while it is true that he "gave her" back to Priuli, it is apparent that he does so with the sense that Priuli "owes" her to him. But it Is Belvidera (whose love Jaffeir here interprets as "gratitude") , rather than Priuli, who finally "pays" him "with her self" in marriage. As something more than a rhetorical expedient for refuting Priuli 's charge of thievery, Jaffeir 's "economic" interpretation of his marriage

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178 is reemphasized by the event Otway alludes to as forming the scenic background in which their betrothal originates (1.47) — the Sposalazio del Mare or wedding of the Adriatic. By the early seventeenth century (when historically the play's conspiracy occurred), the ceremony, which began as a simple religious rite, had developed into a magnificent and ornate ritual, climaxed by the Doge casting a golden ring into the sea while saying, "Sea, we wed thee in token of our true and perpetual 54 dominion over thee I" The ceremony celebrated the commercial "wedding" between Venice and the sea, and, as the -background to Jaffeir's and Belvidera's betrothal, the ceremony seems symbolic of the kind of love Jaffeir (at the first of the play) experiences for Belvidera, a love which holds her as a prized possession, a treasure from the sea, almost, it seems, as chattel earned by his own effort. The effect which this kind of love for Belvidera has on Jaffeir brings him to financial ruin. His "proud" and "swelling heart" (I, 112) will not let him return home, for his "Dores are hatefull to [his] eyes, /Fill'd and damm'd up with gaping Creditors, / Watchfull as Fowlers when their Game will spring" (I, 113-115). His bankruptcy is the result, he tells Priuli, of having "treated Belvidera like your Daughter" (I, 88-92): The Daughter of a Senator of Venice ; Distinction, Place, Attendance and Observance, Due to her Birth, she always has commanded; Out of my little Fortune I have done this.... Pridefully setting Belvidera before the world as a prized treasure. 54 Summers, The Works of Thomas Otway . Ill, 280.

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179 Jaffelr has overextended his credit without the means of repaying; and the advice Priuli gives him, when stripped of its bitterness, is sound (I, 104-108): Home and be humble, study to retrench; Discharge the lazy Vermin of thy Hall, Those Pageants of thy Folly, Reduce the glittering Trappings of thy Wife To humble Weeds, fit for thy little state.... But pride and the kind of love he has for Belvidera have not allowed him to be humble, and will yet lead him into greater ruin. From the play's first scene to its last, Otway manages with careful deliberation to keep the dramatic action continually alloyed with good and evil, and in this first scene it is necessary for us to emphasize the poise between right and wrong. In one sense, Priuli 's charge of thievery is right: Jaffeir has borrowed on credit what he cannot repay. And both he and Belvidera have acted unjustly towards Priuli, for Belvidera has betrayed her "Duty" to her father (I, 69), and Jaffeir, presuming upon the credit earned by his heroic rescue, has violated the right of the father to freely give in marriage his daughter. But though Priuli has justice on his side, it is alloyed with evil, for it lacks charity and forgiveness, even to the extent of cursing his grandson with hunger, so that (as he tells Jaffeir) he will "bait thee for his bread, and din your ears /With hungry Cries: Whilst his unhappy Mother / Sits down and weeps in bitterness of want" (I, 64-66). And though Jaffeir' s love for Belvidera as an earthly treasure leads to financial ruin and dishonesty, there is potentially present in his marriage a kind of love that can redeem him, if not from financial distress, then from spiritual ruin. This different love is also

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180 symbolized by the Sposalazlo del Mare , the ceremony forming the setting for the birth of Belvidera's and Jaffeir's love. Inaugurated in the eleventh century as a simple, religious service on Ascension Day, the ceremony had developed, by the seventeenth century, into an ornate and lavish ritual whose original significance, though still present, was ovsrvhadowed by eommerelal Ineereaeai Horatio F. Brown deaerlb«« th« original ceremony and its meaning: The ceremony was one of supplication and placation; the formula in earliest use consisted in the prayer, "Grant, Lord, that for us, and for all who sail thereon, the sea may be calm and quiet; this is our prayer. Lord, hear us." After which the Doge and his suite were aspersed, and the rest of the water was poured into the sea, while the priests chanted the words, "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean." Such was the ceremony in its primitive form.... In all probability there was a double meaning in the observance. The Venetians desired to assert solemnly ... that they and the sea on which they lived were inseparably one; and secondly... a purification of themselves and the rejection of their sins, symbolised by the aspersion and by the reversion of the water into the Jaffeir's marriage, like the latter-day Sposalazio del Mare , is dominated by a proud love oriented towards worldly treasure, but there is present in his marriage a potentially purging and redeeming love. His "Life feeds on her," and his "Soul" cannot know "satiety" (I, 78-79); the strength of so great a passion, now cursed because falsely oriented in private interest, is capable of moving him (as it later does) to self-denial and "merciful repentance" of his sins (III, ii, 272). And the guide for his passion is also present in Belvidera. Like Venus, 55 Venice , aa Historical Sketch of the Republic (New York, 1893), p. 69.

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181 who In myth Is the treasure from the sea, Belvldera acts in the play as an emblem of love; she is, as her name indicates, the "beautiful vision" of love who continually exerts a guiding influence on Jaffeir to turn him £rom a love whose object is a mfttable treasure to the vision of an immutable and compassionate charity. His marriage, though now his curse, !• potentially his blessing. The "beautiful vision" Belvidera represents and offers to Jaffeir becomes apparent in their first interview in the play. Prior to their meeting, Jaffeir, faced with financial ruin, had prayed (I, 308-315): Tell me why, good Heav'n, Thou mad'st me what I am, with all the Spirit, Aspiring thoughts and Elegant desires That fill the happiest Man? Ah! rather why Did' St thou not form me sordid as my Fate, Base minded, dull, and fit to carry Burdens? Why have I sence to know the Curse that's on me? Is this just dealing. Nature? If the "Curse" on Jaffeir is his financial inability to secure the worldly comfort towards which his "Elegant desires" aspire, there is even a greater "Curse" in his being conscious of his condition. And this greater "Curse" leads him to question Nature's "just dealing" in making him a creature with the power of self -awareness rather than an unreflective beast of burden. I Following his prayerful address to "good Heav'n," Jaffeir encounters Belvidera who tells him, "Oh smile, as when our Loves were in their Spring" (I, 321), and he replies (322-324): As when our Loves o Were in their Spring? has then my Fortune chang'd? Art thou not Belvidera . still the same.... With Belvidera's answer, there begins her attempt to reorient Jaffeir's

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182 vision of love from one whose object Is a mutable good to one whose object is immutable (328-330): Does this appear like Change, or Love decaying? When thus I throw my self into thy bosom. With all the resolution of a strong Truth.... The object of love, ehe seema to suggest, may be as enduring as an unchanging and resolute truth. The effect of her language and her love leads Jaffeir to exclaim (337-342): Oh Woman! lovely Woman! Nature made thee To temper Man: We had been Brutes without you; Angels are Painted fair, to look like you; There's in you all that we believe of Heav'n, Amazing Brightness, Purity and Truth, Eternal Joy, and everlasting Love. Jaffeir perceives, at least momentarily, that Nature has indeed dealt Justly with man by creating woman, for as an object of love she may draw from man that kind of love which views her as an immutable good and which, inclining man towards her, inclines his will also towards heaven's "Amazing Brightness, Purity and Truth...." Human love may thus "temper" man's cursed condition by resembling divine love and enabling his "Aspiring thoughts and Elegant desires" to properly fix on a treasure which "neither moth nor rust doth corrupt" and which "thieves do not break through nor steal...." Responding to Jaffeir 's speech, Belvidera continues her attempt to reorient his vision of love (I, 343; 345-349; 350; 352): i If Love be Treasure, wee'l be wondrous rich: Vow's cannot express it, when I wou'd declare How great's my Joy, I am dumb with the big thought; I swell, and sigh, and labour with my longing.

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183 Oh lead me to some Desart wide and wild, Barren as our Misfortune.... Where I may tell aloud With what a boundless stock my bosom's fraught.... * Though Belvidera uses mercantile imagery to describe her love, she redefines the imagery to mean, not a mutable and readily depleted worldly treasure, but a rich, fertile, and "boundless stock" of love that has nothing to do with the market place. Jaffeir, however, falls back into equating love with worldly fortune, telling her (I, 356-359): Oh Belvidera ! double I am a Begger, Undone by Fortune, and in debt to thee; Want! worldly Want I that hungry meager Fiend Is at my heels, and chaces me in view.... And though she has said that, even in the barren desert of financial misfortune, they are rich with love's treasure, Jaffeir asks if, when suffering the miseries of poverty (I, 367-370), When in a Bed of straw we shrink together, And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads; Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then Hush my Cares thus, and shelter me with Love? In answer, Belvidera describes the kind of love which is an immutable good, a love like that she had implied earlier when telling Jaffeir, "I joy more in thee, /Than did thy Mother when she hugg'd thee first, /And bless 'd the Gods for all her Travel past" (I, 332-33A) — a selfless, compassionate love that transforms the curse of suffering into a blessing (I, 375-381):

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18A Though the bare Earth be all our Resting-place, It's Root's our food, some Clift our Habitation, I'l make this Arm a Pillow for thy Head; As thou sighing ly'st, and swell 'd with sorrow, Creep to thy Bosom, pour the balm of Love Into thy Soul, and kiss thee to thy Rest; Then praise our God, and watch thee 'till the Morning. The distant echo in her speech of the parable of the' Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-35) — a story of man's compassion for his neighbor — helps define Belvidera's love as a selfless, compassionate, and charitable love, analogous to a holy love. And when the will is moved by this kind of love, it inclines towards an immutable good, and the curse of poverty seems tempered with a value greater than financial worth. If Jaffeir were guided by the kind of love Belvidera emblems, his worldly state would be tempered into a blessing; but dominated as he is by a possessive, self-interested love, whose value is defined by terms of the market place, his state is cursed. He seems, in this scene, unable to receive the better love Belvidera offers, though he Is momentarily moved by her passion to accept his poverty (I, 383; 386-394): Reign, reign ye Monarchs that divide the World, Like gawdy Ships, th' obsequious Billows fall And rise again, to lift you in your Pride; They wait but for a storm and then devour you: I, in my private Bark, already wreck' t. Like a poor Merchant driven on unknown Land , That had by chance packt up his choicest Treasure In one dear Casket, and saved only that: Since I must wander further on the shore. Thus hug my little, but my precious store.... Reminiscent of his description to Priuli of Belvidera's rescue from the sea, Jaffeir still likens himself to a "poor Merchant" — as it were, a merchant of Venus — for whom love is valued as a possession, a "precious store" of worldly treasure, salvaged from fortune's sea.

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185 Shipwrecked In his personal wealth, Jaffelr is led by his imperfect kind of love into the greater misfortune of conspiracy, where even his last and "choicest Treasure," Belvidera, is pawned as a "pledge" of his honesty towards the conspirators (II, 345-346). And serving as a representative of Jaffeir's worldly love, Pierre is both the guide and abettor to hlB movement into conspiracy. At their first meeting in the play» following Jaffeir's argument with Priuli, Pierre minimizes whatever effect Priuli 's charge of thievery has on Jaffeir. Responding to Pierre's greeting, "How fares the honest Partner of my Heart?" (I, 121), Jaffeir says, "I'm thinking Pierre, how that damn'd starving Quality/ Call'd Honesty, got footing in the World" (123-12A) . Though the passage may offer the reader an ironic reminder that had Jaffeir been honest, instead of living on credit he could not repay, he indeed would have lived in far more humble circumstances, it is more probable that Jaffeir^ unconvinced by Priuli 's charge, and proudly seeing himself as honesty "' merely wonders at the value of a virtue which produces poverty. At least Pierre seems to understand Jaffeir to mean this, for, in reply, he minimizes the value of what may be called "commercial" or legal honesty (I, 125-129; 132-134): Why, pow'rful Villainy first set it up. For its own ease and safety: Honest men Are the soft easy Cushions on which Knaves Repose and fatten: Were all mankind Villains, They'd starve each other; Lawyers wou'd want practice, Honesty was a Cheat invented first To bind the Hands of bold deserving Rogues, That Fools and Cowards might sit safe in Power.... Honesty is, "Like wit, much talkt of, not to be defin'd" (137); like Jaffeir's "damn'd starving Quality," honesty for Pierre is "a ragged Virtue" (139).

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186 While seeming, however, to disvalue the honesty of paying one's "debts when they'r contracted" (I, 144), Pierre emphasizes a type of honesty that relates wholly to the public good. Paying his debts, stealing "from no man" (I, 14A-149) , Pierre yet claims to be a "Villain" (I, 152-154; 158-159; 161-163): To see the suffring's of my fellow Creatures, And own my self a Man: To see our Senators Cheat the deluded people... Bring whom they please to Infamy and Sorrow; Drive us like Wracks down the rough Tide of Power, All that bear this are Villains; and I one. Not to rouse up at the great Call of Nature, And check the Growth of these Domestick spoilers.... Pierre's repeated assertions in the play of his desire for the public good seem a testimony of his sincerity. Yet genuine as his desire may be, it is less honest because alloyed with a private and baser passion — revenge against the Senate. At the phrase "Domestick spoilers," Jaffeir (who, ironically, is one, having taken Belvidera from Priuli) says (I, 165-167): Oh Aqullina ! Friend, to lose such Beauty, The Dearest Purchase of thy noble Labours; She was thy Right by Conquest, as by Love. Pierre tells of finding in the arms of his mistress, the courtesan Aqullina, "A Wretched old but itching Senator; /A Wealthy Fool, that had bought out my Title" (1, 186-187). When Pierre chased Antonio away, the "rank old bearded Hlrco " complained to the senate, and Pierre was "censur'd basely, /For violating something they call priviledge" CI, 193-196). He then tells Jaffeir (I, 199-204):

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187 A Souldier's Mistress Jaffeir 's his Religion, When that's prophan'd, all other Tyes are broken. That even dissolves all former bonds of service, And from that hour I think my self as free To be the Foe as e're the J'riend of ' Venice Nay, Dear Revenge, when e're thou call'st I am ready. His desire to right what he considers public wrongs is thus alloyed with • revengeful paealon. The kind of love which adversely alloys Pierre's will to effect the public's good, and which leads to a desire for revenge, is defined partly by his passion for Aquilina and partly by his attitude towards the conspiracy. For Pierre, Aquilina is (as Jaffeir says) the "Dearest Purchase" of his "Labours"; she is a possession to which Pierre holds the "Title"; and, more important, she is a whore, and as such she seems an emblem of Pierre's conception of a worldly and commercialized love to be bought and sold. She is also, to be sure, his "Religion," and as such she represents his own "beautiful vision" of love, one in which love seems defined as possession or property with commercial-like values. When his "Religion" is "prophan'd" and his "property" despoiled by a senator of Venice, love leads to desire for revenge against the state. Pierre's desire for private revenge, moreover, may help explain a contradiction which exists in his intent to relieve "the suffring's" of his "fellow Creatures," for though he wishes to relieve the oppressed, he intends, at the same time, "the Destruction/ Of a whole People" (III, ii, 226-227). Desiring revenge against Antonio and the senate for despoiling his possession of Aquilina, Pierre seems moved by the Justice of an eye for an eye. The "whore" of Venetian government is Venice, the "Adriatique Whore," as Pierre describes her, a "People nurst

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188 up equally In Vices /And loathsome Lusts" (III, 11, 368-369), as Renault claims. Despoiled of his own whore, Pierre would despoil the senate's whore. Thus Pierre's will to relieve the oppressed and restore justice Is basely alloyed with a self-interested and selfish love which moves him towards revenge and injustice. And this alloyed condition is also reflected In the two terms Pierre uses to describe the conspiracy: a "Cause" and a "Business," the first reflecting a charitable desire, the second, a selfish, self-interested purpose. Jaffeir and Pierre thus seem motivated by similai: kinds of love, and for this reason Pierre is able to seduce Jaffeir into a desire for revenge against the state similar to his own. He tells him (I, 232-237): I past this very moment by thy dores. And found them guarded by a Troop of Villains; The sons of public Rapine were destroying: They told me, by the sentence of the Law They had Commission to seize all thy fortune. Nay more, Priuli 's cruel hand hath sign'd it. Pierre describes the "massy Plate," and "thy antient most domestick Ornaments, /Rich hangings, intermixt and wrought with gold," all "Tumbled into a heap for publick sale" (239-2AA) ; and then he says (245-2A9): The very bed, which on thy wedding night Receiv'd thee to the Arms of Belvidera, The scene of all thy Joys, was violated, By the course hands of filthy Dungeon Villains, And thrown amongst the common Lumber. In effect, Pierre turns the act of foreclosure — occasioned because 56 For Pierre's use of the term "Business," see II, 87; 157; 30A.

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189 Jaffeir could not pay his debts, and thus legally justified, though Priuli, in signing the order against his daughter, reveals again his lack of charity — into a public rape of Jaffeir 's possessions, the most valuable being Belvldera, Jaffeir' s "choicest Treasure." And by imaging the foreclosure as a public rape, Pierre, at least emotionally, overrides the legal heneety ef the act (even ee he overlooked the feet that Aquilina "sold" herself to Antonio) in order to provide Jaffeir with motivation for revenge similar to his own. When Jaffeir weeps at the story and thinks of suicide, Pierre once more emphasizes the motive for revenge (I, 286-291): Man knows a braver Remedy for sorrow: Revenge 1 the Attribute of Gods, they stampt it With their great Image on our Natures; dye! Consider well the Cause that calls upon thee: And if thou art base enough, dye then: Remember Thy Belvldera suffers: Belvldera ! Jaffeir' s "beautiful vision" of love as worldly treasure does Indeed suffer, and he swears "By Sea and Air! by Earth, by Heaven and Hell, / I will revenge my Belvldera' s Tears!" (I, 297-298). They agree to meet that night "On the Ryalto " where, Pierre says, "every Night at Twelve/ I take my Evening's walk of Meditation" (I, 303-30A) . The Rialto, the market place and center of Venice's commercial life, is a fitting emblem of the self-interested and worldly love which guides both Jaffeir and Pierre. In a world where good and evil are inextricably mixed, one needs* however, to keep in mind that both Jaffeir and Pierre, though impelled by private interests, earnestly desire to relieve the oppressed of Venice. Especially is it necessary for the reader to maintain this poise in the midnight scene between Jaffeir and Pierre on the Rialto,

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190 for there both are imaged as figures of Satan. Waiting for Pierre, Jaffelr meditates (II, 66-76): 1 am here, and thus, the Shades of Night around me, I look as if all Hell were in my Heart, And I in Hell. Nay, surely 'tis so with me; I've heard, how desperate Wretches, like my self, Have wander 'd out at this dead time of Night To meet the Foe of Mankind in his walk: Sure I am so Curst, that, tho' of Heav'n forsaken. No Minister of Darkness cares to Tempt me. Hell I Hell! why sleepest thou? Jaffeir's soliloquy, reminiscent of Milton's description of Satan as well as Satan's soliloquy in Bk. IV of Paradise Lost , allusively associates him with Satan at the moment when, prior to entering Eden, Satan looks Into his conscience. Pierre too is likened to Satan, "the Foe of Mankind in his walk" that Jaffeir has come to meet. As if in answer to Jaffeir's question, "Hell! Why sleepest thou," Pierre enters: "Sure I have stay'd too long: / The Clock has struck, and I may lose my Proselyte" (II, 77-78). The significance of the comparison seems to be, not that Jaffeir is evil incarnate, but that, directed by a worldly love, he is moving farther away from divine good (the "beautiful vision" Belvidera represents) and deeper into a self-centered love that seeks revenge. Pierre is already a member of the rebelling conspiracy, and thus a "Foe of Mankind," but Jaffeir, on the point of joining the rebellion, looks into his own conscience (as Satan did) and damns himself. He thus seems aware of the direction in which his will leads him, though he does not turn back. When Pierre, for instance, gives him money — "here's something to buy Pins, / Marriage is Chargeable" (II, 98-99) — Jaffeir v responds (99-103): f

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191 I but half wlsht To see the Devil, and he's here already. Weill What must this buy, Rebellion, Murder, Treason? Tell me which way I must be damn'd for this. 9 It is as if Jaffeir, out of his own sense of love as self-interest, recognizes the price tag attached to Pierre's charitable and wellintentioned gift of money. As earlier, in his conversation with Belvidera, he momentarily seemed aware that a curse may also be a blessing* Jaffeir now seems close to recognizing that a blessing (such as a friend's love) may also be a curse, and that to relieve the oppressed may involve acts of injustice. But despite whatever awareness of moral danger he has, Jaffeir joins the conspiracy, for the love which dominates him (like the selfcentered love of Satan), when offended, leads only to revenge. Pierre asks, "Has Priuli 's heart relented? /Can he be honest?" (II, 108-109); prompted thus to remember the "despoiling" of his possessions, Jaffeir curses Priuli (II, 109-115): Kind Heav'n! let heavy Curses Gall his old Age; Cramps, Aches, rack his Bones; And bitterest disquiet wring his Heart; Oh let him live 'till Life becomes his burden! Let him groan under' t long, linger an Age In the worst Agonies and Pangs of Death, And find its ease, but late. Jaffeir here assumes the role of priest, his curse recalling anathemas delivered by popes and bishops against grave offenders who threatened 57 the divine order. But in Jaffeir 's hands, the curse he calls down See Robert A. Bryan, "John Donne's Use of Anathema," JEGP, 61 (1962), 305-312.

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192 . from heaven becomes an Instrument, not of divine justice, but of his own private and personal revenge, "a Curse / To kill with" (II, 122-123). Daggers, however, are more effective means of private revenge, and Jaffeir accepts Pierre's offer of "A thousand Daggers, all in honest hands" (II, 128). As he and Pierre leave to join the conspirators, J«ff«ir vowK (II, X92-X95)j Come let's begone, for from this hour I chase All little thoughts, all tender humane Follies Out of my bosom: Vengeance shall have room: Revenge I The love which moves Jaffeir leads ultimately farther and farther away from charity, no matter how desirous he and Pierre are to restore the liberty of citizens. The place where the conspirators meet and where Pierre takes Jaffeir provides the play's most striking emblem of the kind of love which alloys Jaffeir, Pierre, and the conspirators, a love characterized 58 by private interest and defined by values of the commercial world. 58 Renault's first soliloquy is representative both of his and the conspirator's motivations (II, 196-202): Why was my choice Ambition, the worst ground A Wretch can build on? it's indeed at distance A good Prospect, tempting to the View, The Height delights us, and the Mountain Top Looks beautiful, because it's nigh to Heav'n, But we ne're think how sandy's the Foundation, What Storm will batter, and what Tempest shake us! His ambition, described in the traditional terminology of the Hill of Fortune whose "Prospect" is his and the conspirator's "beautiful vision," aspires to a mutable good (see Howard R.' Patch, The Goddess Fortuna in Medieval Literature (Cambridge, 1927), pp. 124-125; 132-136). Renault's speech also echoes Matt. 7:26-27, where Christ describes the man who chooses a mutable good as being like one who builds his house upon the sand, "And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it."

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193 For the conspirators meet at Aqullina's house, the house of a whore. There Jaffelr formally joins the conspiracy, reaching it seems the final destination of his ill-directed will. But in order to become a * conspirator, Jaffeir must "buy" admission into the rebellion, for the conspirators are fearful that he is a "Villain" (II, 332-333). The prlc« Jaff«lr pays ta his last and beat "Treasure," Belvldera, whom he offers as security, "A Pledge, worth more than all the World can pay for" (II, 346). With her he also gives a dagger, that if he should prove "unworthy /You know the rest: Then strike it to her heart" (II, 394-395). Belvidera's remark, "Nay, take my Life, since he has sold it cheaply" (II, 400), places his act in true perspective, for the treasure which Jaffeir 's love has as its object is one that may be bought and sold. As Belvidera is led away by Renault, Jaffeir both literally and figuratively turns his vision away from her and the divine good she ultimately emblems (II, 417-422): Oh my Eyes ! Look not that way, but turn your selves awhile Into my heart, and be wean'd all together. My Friend, where art thou? Pierr. Here, my Honour's Brother. Jaff . Is Belvidera gone? With his gaze directed into his own heart, Jaffeir seems lost in darkness. For separated from Belvidera, he is cut off from the "beautiful vision" of "the divinest /Good man e're possest" (II, 380), the light and vision of charity. And looking into his heart, his eyes seem wholly fixed on the mutable and self-centered good of a private revenge. Following Jaffeir' s separation from Belvidera, there occurs the famous scene between Aquilina and Antonio, the Venetian senator, which

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194 has caused critic and audience alike considerable discomfort. Yet the scene is a brilliant reinforcement of the tragedy Implicit in Jaffeir's "selling" Belvldera, for it graphically portrays the ultimate moral disfiguration which attends the man whose love inclines hlra towards a carnal or worldly object, whether (as with Antonio) it be sexual indulgenc*. or («« with the conaplrdtors) political fortune, or (aa with Jaffeir) revenge. The scene between Antonio and Aquillna resembles in at least one respect the preceding scene between Jaffeir and the conspirators. Arriving late at night at Aquilina's house, Antonio (like Jaffeir) is coldly received and is forced to buy his way into her good graces (even as Jaffeir had to "buy" acceptance from the rebels) with a bag of gold and a "fine" speech (III, i, 58-65): My cruel fair one, [ Takes out a^ Purse of Gold , and at every pawse shakes it . Since it is my Fate, that you should with Your Servant angry prove; tho late at Night 1 hope 'tis not too late with this to gain Reception for my Love There's for thee my little Nicky Nacky take it, here take it I say take it, or I'l throw it at your head how now, rebel I Antonio's verse-like speech requesting acceptance (in contrast with the prose used throughout the scene) and his offer to buy admittance, coming immediately after Jaffeir 's scene with the conspirators, seems designed to make the reader view the Nicky-Nacky scene as a parody of, even a moral comment upon, the preceding scene. Antonio's use of the word "rebel" to describe Aquilina seems in particular to link this scene with the preceding in which Jaffeir "buys" the good will of the rebels. Antonio, moreover, seems to image the perversity which attends the kind of love centered in private Ipterest and commercial values. His

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195 love alms at a "Game at Rump" (III, i, 25); and the human being whose good is dictated by sensual appetite seems debased into a wholly animallike nature. Antonio, "that old hideous Animal" (III, 1, 12), pretends he Is a "Bull, a BasanBull, the Bull of Bulls, or any Bull" (III, 1, 82-83); then a dog, "Ay a Dog" (97). The value of the carnal or worldly good towards which iUitenlo's lev(^ inelinn* his will ta also auggestad in Antonio's renaming of Aquillna: " Nacky did I say? Ay Nacky ; Aquilina , Una . Una , quillna . qullina . quilina . Aquilina . Naqullina . Naquillna , Acky . Acky . Nacky . Nacky . Queen Nacky . . . " (III, 1, 17-19). He then calls her "Madona ." and when, in surprise, she asks, "Who am I?" he replies, " Madona . as I take it you are my you are thou art my little Nicky Nacky that's all!" (Ill, 1, 28-31). Antonio's treasure is a knick-knack, a trivial object to be bought and sold. And though "Madona" is a common Italian title of respect, one cannot avoid associating the term with Mary, emblem of divine love; and thus It seems that for Antonio the "beautiful vision" love beholds becomes merely a knickknack, mutable and worthless a "vision" also implicit in Jaffelr's selling Belvldera "cheaply." In becoming an "old hideous Animal," Antonio is led by a worldly love into becoming something less than man, even as Jaffeir (as he later discovers), led by a similar kind of love, "forgets his nature" (III, 11, 304) by becoming a "Devil," that is, one who rejects the Immutable good in exchange for a mutable and self-centered good. Probably the final judgment Otway implicitly makes on Antonio's encounter with Aquilina and* indirectly, on Jaffelr's betrayal of Belvldera Is contained in Antonio's reference to the "BasanBull." for the reference alludes to Psalms 22 where the poet laments, "Many bulls have compassed me, strong bulls of

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196 Bashon have beset me round" (v. 12), and "dogs have compassed me" (v. 16) — the two animals which Antonio imitates. The familiar opening V verse of the Psalms, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me," aptly defines the world at the center of the play, for the world imaged in the house of Aqullina is one where God is absent, because the love which Inclines Its Inhabitants leads away from divine good and Into the selfinterest of a mutable good. Ill Jaffeir's passion for Belvidera, however, is too strong to permit him to remain separate from her. Though he tries to "weam" (II, 419) himself from her vision, he suffers the unquiet of longing, and, meeting her on the morning after he had "sold" her, he tells her (III, ii, 1721): ...every moment I am from thy sight, the Heart within my Bosom Moans like a tender Infant in its Cradle Whose Nurse had left it: Come, and with Songs Of gentle Love perswade it to its peace. With Belvidera gone, Jaffeir's heart lies in darkness, and the hope of his redemption rests in Belvidera's return to guide ("perswade") and temper his discordant heart into the Just harmony of a "gentle Love." But Belvidera first chides Jaffeir (III, ii, 22-26): I fear the stubborn Wanderer will not own me, 'Tis grown a Rebel to be rul'd no longer. Scorns the Indulgent Bosom that first lull'd it. And like a Disobedient Child disdains The soft Authority of Belvidera . Jaffeir's heart, the emblem of his passions and love, has wandered and

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197 "grown a Rebel" to that "Authority" which should "rule" and "perswade it to its peace," the "Authority" of that "beautiful vision" of charitable love which the intellect perceives and by which reason guides the passions and moves the will, in shdtt, "The soft Authority" which Belvidera represents. And at this point in the play, the term "Rebel" unites rebellion against Venice with rebeHion agslnut the authority of the "divines t Good man e're posses t." With Jaffeir's return to Belvidera, there begins his change from a love whose object is a mutable good to one whose object is truly a "beautiful vision," and with the change in the kind of love which dominates him, there is a corresponding change in the direction his will takes. Otway, moreover, seems deliberately to parallel Jaffeir's movement out of conspiracy with his movement into it, as if events, like the nature of man, contain a mixed potential for good and evil. As Jaffeir had turned to Pierre for guidance, he now turns to Belvidera: "Teach me how / I may deserve such matchless Love as thine" (III, ii, 73-74). The humility implicit in his recognition that he must learn to "deserve" her "matchless Love" contrasts sharply with his earlier attitude that Belvidera was "owed" to him, and that she had "paid" him "with her self"; now, at the turning point in Jaffeir's movement, imagery of the market place, formerly expressive of his love, fades and is replaced by his sense of humility and undeserving. After Jaffeir has confessed to her his involvement in a conspiracy to kill Priuli, the senators, and hapless citizens, Belvidera begins to teach him the "bitter Lesson" he must learn in order to be blessed with the "matchless Love" she represents. She asks (III, ii, 156-165):

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198 Can I behold him [Prlull] With smiles of Vengeance, butcher 'd in his Age? The sacred Fountain of my life destroy 'd?59 And canst thou shed the blood that gave me being? Nay, be a Traitor too, and sell thy Country? Can thy great Heart descend so vilely low, Mix with hired Slaves, Bravoes, and Common stabbers. Nose-slitters, Ally-lurking VilliansI joyn With such a Crew, and take a Ruffian's Wages, To cut the Throats of Wretches as they sleep? Her speech recalls Pierre's dismay at seeing "the suffring's of [his] fellow Creatures" (I, 152), but her charity towards her father ( a senator) stands in contrast to Jaffeir's (or Pierre's) willingness to "sell" his country for the sake of revenge. And stung by her description of his fellow conspirators, Jaffeir responds (III, ii, 166-170); Thou wrong 'st me, Belvidera l I've engag'd With Men of Souls: fit to reform the ills Of all Mankind: There's not a Heart amongst them, But's as stout as Death, yet honest as the Nature Of Man first made, e're Fraud and Vice were fashions. But she offers as proof of the alloyed condition of his comrades Renault's attempt to rape her (III, ii, 179-195). As Pierre's earlier description of the "rape" of Jaffeir's possessions (and, symbolically, of Belvidera) had led Jaffeir to seek vengeance against the state, Belvidera' s disclosure of Renault's attempted rape turns him about and causes him to desire vengeance on the conspirator (III, ii, 187). And as Jaffeir agreed to meet Pierre at midnight to begin his journey to Aquilina's house (I, 306), he now promises to meet Belvidera at midnight to begin his journey back to community (III, ii, 206): 59 See I, 70-72, where Priuli uses the same phrase, but with the unkind intention to "forget her."

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199 When shall we meet again? jaff. Anon at Twelve! The parallel extends to include the prayer which ended Jaffeir's meeting with Pierre (I, 305-315) and that thlch ends his meeting with Belvidera (III, il, 211-217): Let Heav'n forget me When I remember not thy Truth, thy Love. How curst is my Condition, toss'd and justl'd, From every Comer; Fortune's Common Fool, The Jest of Rogues, an Instrumental Ass For Villains to lay loads of Shame upon. And drive about just for their ease and scorn. Believing his condition "curst" before joining the conspiracy, he now finds that still he is cursed as "Fortune's Common Fool." Shocked at recognizing anew his "cursed Condition," at finding the taint of lechery within the conspiracy, and at the bond he has made to kill his fellow citizens, Jaffeir exclaims (III, ii, 270-272): What, be a Devil! take a Damning Oath For shedding native blood I can there be a sin In merciful repentance? And as he joins the conspirators at night for their last meeting, he looks about and wonders (III, ii, 302-304): Heav'n 1 where am I? beset with cursed Fiends, That wait to Damn me: What a Devil's man When he forgets his nature — hush my heart. Just as Jaffeir, waiting earlier to meet Pierre at midnight, had looked into his conscience and found hell within and without, even so now he once more confronts conscience and sees himself as in hell; but now, responding differently, he seeks repentance, seeming to recognize that

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200 rebellion is a false good, for vengeance against his own kind is sin against his nature. The repentance which emerges from Jaffeir's clearer vision of his cursed condition and from a will now inclined by compassion has still its price, not in terms, however, expressive of the self-interest of the market place. Once led by Pierre to Aqulllna's house and conspiracy, Jaffeir is led by Belvidera away from the house and to the senate, but on the way he learns another part of the "bitter Lesson" Belvidera teaches: "Where dost thou lead me? Every step I move, / Me thinks I tread upon some mangled Limb / Of a rack'd Friend..." (IV, 1-3). She reminds him that they are going (IV, 5-13) ; To doe a deed shall Chronicle thy name. Among the glorious Legends of those few That have sav'd sinking Nations: thy Renown Shall be the future Song of all the Virgins, Who by thy piety have been preserv'd From horrid violation: Every Street Shall be adom'd with Statues to thy honour. And at thy feet this great Inscription written. Remember him that prop'd the fall of Venice. But Jaffeir replies (IV, 14-19) Rather, Remember him, who after all The sacred Bonds of Oaths and holyer Friendship, In fond compassion to a Womans tears Forgot his Manhood, Vertue, truth and Honour, To sacrifice the Bosom that reliev'd him. Why wilt thou damn me? The price repentance demands is self-sacrifice: the denial of friendship, Tianhood, virtue, truth, honor — an utterly selfless commitment to the "beautiful vision" of human compassion. Certainly it seems that if love is, to a degree, always a blessing, the "bitter Lesson" is that to a degree It is always a curse.

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201 Aware of Jaffeir's potential failure to pay the "price" repentance and compassion demand, Belvidera reorders Jaffeir's imagination so that It "sees" clearly the object which revenge seeks, "sees," in fact, the price revenge will cost. She beglfts with herself (IV, 21; 23-25; 28-31): Do, return back, re-place me in my Bondage, And let thy Dagger doe its bloudy office. Oh that kind Dagger, Jaf feir » how twill look Stuck through my heart, drench 'd in my bloud to th' hilts I Or if thou think'st it nobler, Let me live Till I am a Victim to the hatefull lust Of that Infernal Devil, that old Fiend That's Damn'd himself and wou'd undoe Mankind.... Her description awakens Jaffeir's memory of Renault's attempt to rape her, and memory corroborates the truth of her imagination (IV, 32; 3A-38) : Name, name it not again. ...Oh the Villain! That durst approach such purity as thine On terms so vile: Destruction, swift destruction Fall on my Coward-head, and make my Name The common scorn of Fools if I forgive him. . . . But as Jaffeir becomes more deeply moved by charity, he seems even to "forgive" Renault, for before betraying to the senate the names of the conspirators (including, no doubt, Renault's) he makes the senate swear an oath to forgive them their crimes and preserve their lives. The irony of course in Jaffeir's reply to Belvidera is that he, like Renault, approaches "such purity" as the charity Belvidera represents "On terms so vile" as the denial of all that constitutes his honor, an alloy that he cannot avoid.

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202 Belvidera describes further the price Jaffeir would have to pay for revenge if he followed the way of conspiracy. By making him "see" the effects of brutal rebellion, she intensifies his compassion through imagination; urging him to "Save thy poor Country," its nobles, and "all those little Infants which the Swords / Of murtherers are whetting for thin moment" (IV, 46-50), she says (IV, 51-53; 58-6A; 66-68; Italic* mine) ; Think thou already hearst their dying screams, Think that thou seest their sad distracted Mothers Kneeling before thy feet, and begging pity Think thou seest this, and then consult thy heart. Jaff. Oh I Belv . Think too. If thou lose this present minute. What miseries the next day brings upon thee. Imagine all the horrours of that night, Murther and Rapine, Waste and Desolation, Confusedly ranging. Think what then may prove My Lot I the Ravisher may then come safe. Doe a damn'd deed; perhaps too lay a Train May catch thy life; then where will be revenge. The dear revenge that's due to such a wrong? Belvldera's repeated insistence that Jaffeir use his reason to imagine the object towards which his vengeful passion had inclined his will in effect brings that passion under the "rule" of reason and thus under the "soft Authority" of the "beautiful vision" of charity, though (as it ever seems to be) the vision is precariously held (IV, 69-77): By all Heavens powers Prophetick truth dwells in thee, For every word thou speak' st strikes through my heart Like a new light, and shows it how't has wander'd; Just what th' hast made me, take me, Belvidera . And lead me to the place where I'm to say This bitter Lesson, where I must betray My truth, my vertue, constancy and friends: Must I betray my friends? Ah take me quickly, Secure me well before that thought's renew 'd....

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203 His heart which had wandered in darkness is now illuminated in an epiphany of light which "truth" brings. And with the light, truth brings also the "bitter Lesson" "that the most valu'd things have most allays" — that even compassionate charity, "the dlvlnest Good man e're possest," requires a full self-sacrifice. Jaffelr may wonder "Why was such hspplness not given me pure? /Why dash'd with cruel wrongs, and bitter wantings?" (IV, 85-86), but at least he accepts the alloy of sacrifice which repentance and compassion demand; he tells Belvidera (IV, 87-94): Come, lead me forward now like a tame Lamb To Sacrifice: thus in his fatal Garlands, Deck'd fine and pleas'd. The wanton skips and plays. Trots by the enticing flattering Priestess side . And much transported with his little pride . Forgets his dear Companions of the plain . Till b^ Her , bound , Hee's on the Altar layn ; Yet then too hardly bleats , such pleasure's in the pain . Recognizing that pleasure is alloyed with pain, Jaffeir places himself in the ancient tradition of the sacrificial lamb—the most notable being Christ—offered both for the guilt of mankind and in praise of divine love. He then enters the senate as a sacrificial lamb "in pity / To all those wretches whose unhappy dooms" are sealed by the sins of the conspirators (IV, 142-143) . Though Jaffeir accepts his self-sacrifice, the test of his compassion occurs when he confronts Pierre, captured and brought in chains before the senate. Pierre disgraces Jaffeir with a "vile blow" (IV, 278), but, recognizing his own numberless faults, Jaffeir in return asks for compassion (IV, 280-283):

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20A ...use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me. For I am fallen beneath the basest Injuries; Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy, With pity and with charity behold me.... Pierre, however, dismisses him as a "whining Monk" (IV, 287), though later even Pierre accepts compassion, summoning him to the scaffold to •k forglvene** for hid "vlls blew." But now Pierre, utill m "Worn of Mankind," tempts Jaffeir back into the way of vengeance, for he returns "this dagger, /Given with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stoln" (IV, 361-362). Memory once more awakens in Jaffeir (IV, 378-381): This dagger, well remembred, with this dagger I gave a solemn vow of dire Importance, Parted with this and Belvidera together; Have a care, Mem'ry, drive that thought no farther. Exercising rational control over memory ("Have a care, Mem'ry..."), he nonetheless is tempted to keep his vow to the conspirators. And embracing Belvidera, he momentarily wrestles with vengeful passion, but finally throws the dagger away. (IV, 520-523): I am, I am a Coward; witness' t, Heaven, Witness it, Earth, and every being Witness; 'lis but one blow yet: by immortal Love, I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee. Submitting to "such matchless Love" as Belvidera represents, he submits to an immutable and "immortal Love," and now fully accepts the dishonor that such love demands as sacrifice. When Jaffeir prepares to meet Pierre on the scaffold, after the There seems an echo here of Priuli's charge that Jaffeir had stolen Belvidera from him, as if Priuli and Pierre are momentarily alike in their lack of charity.

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205 senate has treacherously violated its sworn oath to save the lives of the conspirators, his parting words to Belvldera affirm that now he understands and accepts the truth "That the most valu'd things have most allays...." He asks, "How long is'^ since the miserable day / We wedded first" (V, 256-257), and when she replies, "was't a miserable day?" (261), h« N«ya (261-271) J A curs ' d one . Bel . I thought it otherwise, and you've oft sworn, In the transporting hours of warmest love When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn you bless'd it. Jaf f . Twas a rash oath. Bel . Then why am I not curs'd too? Jaff . No, Belvldera ; by th' eternal truth, . I doat with too much fondness. Bel . Still so kind? Still then do you love me? Jaff . Nature, in her workings, Inclines not with more ardour to Creation, Than I doe now towards thee; man ne'r was bless'd. Since the first pair met, as I have been. Cursed and blessed at the same time, Jaffeir only now understands the effect of life's alloy. Blessed earlier by his love for her, he was cursed because it was valued as a possession and an earthly treasure; blessed now by a greater love for her, he yet is cursed in the selfdenial it demands. Jaffeir moves towards a final emblematic portrayal of the sacrifice that compassion has led him to make. The scene shifts from their parting to "a^ Scaffold and a^ Wheel " and the " great Rabble" gathered to witness the executions. Pierre fends off the Priest who seeks to "convert" him, asserting that he has never broken peace with heaven "by cruel murthers, /Rapine, or perjury, or vile deceiving, /But liv'd in moral Justice towards all men" (V, 376-378) , though the irony of his own blindness seems inescapable. When Jaffeir appears, Pierre seems

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206 compassionate, forgiving him for betrayal and asking forgiveness for the unkind blow he struck him. He then asks Jaffelr to perform one more act of charity "to preserve my Memory /From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it" (V, A50-451). Jaffelr consents to stab Pierre, and they both "ascend the Scaffold ." When Pierre is bound and gives the word, Jaffeir iitaha him, and then ht«ael£. But ht^fotp hm dittm, J«ff«lr turns to the rulers and utters this ritual curse (V, 469-474) : Now, ye curs'd Rulers, Thus of the blood y'have shed I make Libation, And sprinkl't mingling: May it rest upon you, And all your Race: Be henceforth Peace a stranger Within your Walls; let Plagues and Famine waste Your Generations Mingling the blood of himself and Pierre into a libation, Jaffelr becomes a priest (in a way profoundly different from his earlier asstmption of "priesthood," for now he becomes both priest and sacrifice) and the gallows seem for a moment to become an altar. Even the "Wheel" that emblems cruelty, the treachery of senates, the misfortune and sufferings of the world, seems transformed by the ritual of sacrifice. Here Jaffelr 's journey ends at the top of the ascent into the tragic grandeur of man's alloyed nature, where will and love meet as victim and priest in the ritual of compassionate sacrifice. The transfiguration which Jaffelr 's sacrifice effects on the wheel and scaffold, transforming them into an altar, includes the dagger, the former emblem of his vengeance, for as he dies he bequeaths it, now as a love object, to Belvidera (V, 474-477):

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207 ...oh poor Belvldera ! Sir, I have a Wife, bear this in safety to her, A Token that with my dying breath I blest her, And the dear little Infant left behind me.°^ But Belvldera has fallen into madntos, and perhaps the starkness of human alloys, where blessing mingles with curse, is best seen in her eollapae. For after having *teed as a defense of love against reveng* and brutality; after having brought to Jaffeir the "beautiful vision" of compassion; after having become a priestess to lead Jaffeir as victim in order to preserve Venice; after having brought a compassion finally to Priuli (V, 94-113) after all this Belvldera collapses upon parting from Jaffeir, slips momentarily into a bitter cursing of creation (V, 349-362) , then falls into a madness which itself becomes a poignant reminder of a pastoral simplicity and purity that the alloyed world can never approach. She utters in her madness a haunting catalogue of lovely things (V, 368-369) : Murmuring streams, soft shades, and springing flowers, Lutes, Laurells, Seas of Milk, and ships of Amber. Belvldera dies, pulled into her grave, at least sjnmbolically, by the compassionate, "sad vision" her mind perceives of Jaffeir's and Pierre's ghosts (V, 500-509) , becoming the final sacrificial victim in the preservation of Venice. At their parting, Belvldera asked, "Leave thy dagger with me. / Bequeath me something" (V, 332-333) . It seems reasonable that Jaffeir now honors her request. See E. H. W. Meyerstein, "The Dagger in 'Venice Preserved' ," TLS, Sept. 7, 1951, p. 565.

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208 IV Venice Preserv'd . finally, like Alciblades , Is a theodicy, expressed of course In language which a sophisticated Restoration audience could accept. Jaffelr (as well as mankind) Is cursed with an alloyed nature where reason no longer ie always In control of the will* and the play In part comprises an answer to Jaffelr 's question, "Is this just dealing. Nature?" Behind the play's answer lies what seems for Otway a favorite scripture: "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is there will your heart be also" (Matt. 6:19-21). Otway dramatically argues that man's alloyed nature is predominantly a curse when passion Inclines the will toward a selfish and mutable good, a treasure whose purchase darkens the heart and creates a spiritual hell; it is predominantly a blessing when reason and a charitable love inclines the will towards an immutable treasure. Two examples from the play may illustrate the point. The first is Jaffeir's description of himself as a "poor Merchant" who, being shipwrecked, "had packt up his choicest Treasure," Belvldera, "and sav'd only that" (I, 391-392). At this point in the play, Jaffeir seems guided by a self-centered passion defined by the imagery of the merchant and his treasure, and guided by this kind of passion Jaffeir is cursed, for it leads him into conspiracy, a type of hell. The second example occurs when Jaffeir experiences a change in the direction his will takes. Directed now by Belvldera and charity towards the senate, he tells her (IV, 80-82):

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209 ...th* art my Soul It self; wealth, friendship, honour, All present Joys, and earnest of all future, Are sunnn'd in thee.... The commercial Imagery is transformed into that which expresses spiritual worth, for the treasures of the world ("wealth, friendship, honour ...Joys") are "summ'd in" the "beautiful vision" of charity and thus transfigured into the treasures of the soul, types of the one immutable good. Guided by charity, man's alloyed nature can become a blessing. In a more general way, Jaffeir's question calls in doubt heaven's "Just dealing," and as a result the play's theodipy includes a defense of divine Justice, not simply as it pertains to man's nature, but to human society as well. Otway's defense emerges principally from the impious assumptions of the conspirators that they are representative of divine vengeance against a corrupt city, that in fact they are, as Pierre says, "Men like Gods" (II, 139). Bedamar, the Spanish ambassador, tells the conspirators, for instance, that they are (II, 224-227): Men separated by the Choice of Providence, From the gross heap of Mankind, and set here In this great assembly as in one great Jewel T' adorn the bravest purpose it er'e smiled on.... Renault, while giving the final orders to the conspirators, states that Venice will bum "with flames rather from Heav'n than ours" (III, ii, 377). Yet Bedamar 's use of the image of a "Jewel" a treasure of the world to describe the assembled conspirators points to the private interest that alloys their desire for justice. And alloyed with ambition and private interest, they are incapable of righting human wrongs; to think otherwise Involves them in the proud impiety of considering

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210 , _ themselves to be "Men like Gods," specially appointed by Providence to wield the flames of retribution. Pierre's statement, "Revenge I the Attribute of Gods, they stampt it /With their great Image on our Natures" (I, 287-288), reflects his own Impiety by ignoring the fact that vengeance is the one attribute heaven reserves for itself; writing to the Romans, St. Paul aaya, "Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance ±s_ mine; I will repay, saith the Lord" (Romans 12:19). Recognizing then that his alloyed nature makes it impossible for him to effect justice, man must temper his desire for justice with charity, as Jaffeir finally does, and resign the sword of vengeance into the hands of the only just judge of men, again as Jaffeir does in the apocalyptic curse he utters upon learning of the senate's treacherous betrayal of its vows (V, 219-227) . Yet even though Jaffeir is finally led by charity, Otway never permits the reader to assume that once charity moves the will, it remains always as the dominant guide. While on the scaffold, just before the final sacrifice, Jaffeir for a moment falls back into revengeful desires. Pierre asks, "doe me some way Justice," and Jaffeir, seemingly distraught beyond his power to endure, replies, "I have a Wife, and she shall bleed, my Child too / Yield up his little Throat, and all t' appease thee" (V, 453-A56) . Pierre, however, having come to know compassion, brings Jaffeir back to charity, "No this no more!" (V, 457). The justice Pierre wants is Jaffeir's charitable act "to preserve my Memory" (V, 450); and his death by Jaffeir's hand seems to preserve his memory, not as one who conspired to destroy a city, but as one who became a sacrifice to the injustice of "curs'd Rulers." Difficult to achieve, compassionate charity seems even

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211 more difficult to maintain, but only charity Is able to preserve Venice, and mankind. In The Orphan and In Venice Preserv'd . Otway brings to perfection what began in Alelbiadea as an attempt to describe dramatically the complex nature of man. Private Interest In Alclblades . lawlessness In Pen Caylea . "Inveteraee Hate" in Caiua M&ylua . watrlng In man against better Impulses towards charity, obedience, and pliant strength, all are summed up In passion's effect upon reason In The Orphan , and Its effect on the will In Venice Preserv'd . His reason often biased and his will misguided, man seems ultimately for Otway what he was for the medieval mind and what he was for the last poet to speak from that great vision, a creature who stands. In doubt to deem himself a God, or Beast; In doubt his Mind or Body to prefer, Born but to die, and reas'nlng but to err; Alike in ignorance, his reason such. Whether he thinks too little, or too much: Chaos of Thought and Passion, all confus'd; Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole Judge of Truth, in endless Error hurl'd: The glory, jest, and riddle of the worldl

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LIST OF WOFK.S CITED Alnsworth, Henry. Solomon 'b gone o| ^ong^ , ii\ Er^plieh Meter and with Annotations . London: n.p., 1639. Aquinas, Thomas. Basic Writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas , ed. Anton C. Pegis. New York: Random House, 1945. Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologlca , tr. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. 22 vols. London: Burns Dates and Washbourne, n.d. Aristotle. The Works of Aristotle , ed. W. D. Ross. 12 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910-1952. Augustine. Confessions , tr. F. J. Sheed. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943. Augustine. Lectures or Tractates on the Gospel According to St . John , tr. John Glbb and James Innes. 2 vols. Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1873-1884. Brown, Horatio F. Venice , an Historical Sketch of the Republic . New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1893. Bryan, Robert A. "John Donne's Use of Anathema," JEGP . LXI (April, 1962), 305-312. Cirlot, Juan E. A Dictionary of Symbols , tr. Jack Sage. New York: Philosophical Library, 1962. Coeffeteau, F. N. A Table of Humane Passions , tr. Edward Grimeston. London: n.p., 1621. Dennis, John. The Critical Works of John Dennis , ed. Edward Niles Hooker. 2 vols. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1943. Dobr^e, Bonamy. Restoration Tragedy . Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1929. [Donne, John]. John Donne : The First Anniversaries , ed. Frank Man ley. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1963. Dryden, John. The Works of John Dryden . ed. Walter Scott and George Saintsbury. 18 vols. Edinburgh: W. Paterson, 1882-1893. 212

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213 Elwin, Malcolm. Handbook to Restoration Drama . Port Washington, N. Y.: Kennlkat Press, 1966. Ferguson, George Wells. Signs and Symbols in Christian Art . New York: Oxford University Press, 195A. Pllmer, Sir Robert. Patriarcha an
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214 Jorgensen, Paul A. Redeeming Shakespeare's Words . Berkeley: University of California Press, 1962. Joseph QuincY Adams : Memorial Studies , ed. James G. McManaway, e_t. al . Washington: The Folger Shakespeare Library, 1948. Leech, Clifford. Shakespeare's Tragedies and Other Studies in Seventeenth Century Drama . London: Chatto and Wind us , 1950. Lewis, C. S. The Discarded Ima&e . Cambridge: University Press, 1964. [Livy]. Livy , tr. Alfred C. Schlesinger. 14 vols. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1949. Loftis, John. The Politics of Drama in Augustan England . Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963. The London Stage . 1660-1800 . ed. William Van Lennep. vol. 1, pt. 1 (1660-1700). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1965. Lovejoy, Arthur 0. Essays in the History of Ideas . New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1960. Lovejoy, Arthur C, and George Boas. Prlmitivlsm and Related Ideas In Antiquity . Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1935. Lucan. Pharsalia . tr. Robert Graves. Baltimore: Penguin Books, Inc., 1957. Lyly, John. Euphues and His England . English Reprints , ed. Edward Arber, no. 9. London: A. Murray and Sons, 1869. McBurney, William H. "Otway's Tragic Muse Debauched: Sensuality in Venice Preserv'd ." JEGP, LVIII (July, 1959), 380-399. Machiavelli, Niccolo. The Prince and The Discourses , tr. E. R. P. Vincent and Christian E. Detmold. New York: Modern Library, 1950. Marguerite D'Angouleme. The Heptameron , tr. Arthur Machen. 2 vols. Philadelphia: George Barrie, n.d. Meyerstein, E. H. W. "The Dagger in 'Venice Preserv'd,' " Times Literary Supplement . Sept. 7, 1951, p. 565. (Milton, John]. John Milton . Complete Poems and Major Prose , ed, Merritt Y. Hughes. New York: The Odyssey Press, 1957. Moore, John Robert. "Contemporary Satire in Otway's Venice Preserv'd ," PMLA . XLIII (March, 1928), 166-181. Odell, George. Shakespeare From Betterton to Irving . New York: B. Blom, 1963.

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215 Ogg, David. England in the Reign of Charles II. Second ed. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963. Otv/ay, Thomas. The Complet e Works of Thomas Otway , ed. Montague Summers. 3 vols. Bloomsbury: The Nonsuch Press, 1926. • Otway, Thomas. The Works of Thomas Otway , ed . J. C. Ghosh. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932. Ovid. Metamo rpho ses , tr. Rolfe Humphries. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1958. Panofsky, Erwin. Studies in Iconology. New York: Oxford University Press, 1939. Pascal, Blaise. Pensces and the Provincia l Letters , tr. W. F. Trotter and Thomas M'Crie. New York: Random House, 1941. Patch, Howard R. The Goddess_ Fortuna in Medieval Literature . Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1927. Philo Judaeus. Works , tr. C. D. Younge. 4 vols. London: H. G. Bohn, 1854-1855. Plato. The Republic, tr. Francis MacDonald Cornford. New York: Oxford University Press, 1963. [Plutarch] . Plutarch's Lives. The Translation called Dryden's , corr. and rev. by A. H. Clough. 5 vols. New York: A. L. Burt, n.d. Polybius. The Histories of Pol ybius , tr. Evelyn S. Shuckburgh. 2 vols. London: Macmillan and Co., 1889. Pope, Alexander. Poems of Alexan der Pope. Twickenham Edition, gen. ed. John Butt. 6 vols. London: Methuen and Co., 1938 — . Poulet, Georges. St udies in Human Time, tr. Elliott Coleman. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1956. Ray, John. Observat ions Topographical , Moral, and Ph ysiological . London: n.p., 1673. Roberts, Alexander, and James Donaldson, eds. The Ante Nicene Christia n Library . 25 vols. Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1867-1897. [Sallust]. _Sallust, F lorus , and Velle ius Paterculus , tr. John Selby Watson. London: Henry G. Bohn, 1852. Sennault, J. F. The Use of Passions , tr. Henry Earle of Monmouth. London: n.p. , 1649 . Spenser, Edmund. The Poetical Works of Edmund _S_Penser , ed. J. C. Smith and E. De Selincourt. London: Oxford University Press, 1960.

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216 Splngam, J. E., ed. Critical Essays of the Seventeenth Century . 3 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1957. Swift, Jonathan. Gulliver's Travels and Other Writings , ed. Louis A. Landa. Boston: The Riverside Press Cambridge, 1960. Swift, Jonathan. The Works of Jonathan Swift , ed. John Nichols. 24 vols. New York: William Durell and Co., 1812-1813. Taylor, Aline Mackenzie. Next to Shakespeare ; Otway's Venice Preserv'd and The Ogphan end Thely HiHtofv on the London Stage . Dutham: Duke University Press, 1950. Traheme, Thomas. The Poetical Works , ed. Gladys I. Wade. London: P. J. and A. E. Dobell, 1932. Tuve, Rosemond. Allegorical Imagery . Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966. Underwood, Dale. Etherege and the Seventeenth-Century Comedy of Manners . Yale Studies in English, vol. 135. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957. Walafrid Strabo (?). Glossa Ordenaria . Patrologiae Latina . ed. J. P. Migne. vol. 114. Paris: Migne, 184A ~. Wasserman, Earl. The Subtler Language . Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1959. Wilmot, John. Collected Works of John Wilmot Earl of Rochester , ed. John Hayward. London: The Nonesuch Press, 1926. Wright, Thomas. The Passions of the Minde . London: n.p., 1620.

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BIOGRAPtftCAL SKETCH John David Walker was bom July 19, 1931, at Mineral Wells, Texas. In June, 19A8, he was graduated from Sunset High School, Dallas, Texas. In June, 1952, he received the degree of Bachelor of Arts from Abilene Christian College. In August, 1956, he received the degree of Master of Arts from the University of Texas. From 1956 until 1960, he taught English at Centre College, Danville, Kentucky. In 1960, he enrolled in the Graduate School of Rice University, and in 1961, in the Graduate School of the University of Florida. Having completed all requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, except for the dissertation, he began teaching in 1964 at the State University of New York at Binghamton, where he is presently teaching. John David Walker is married to the former Nona Foster and is the father of five children. 217

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This dissertation was prepared under the direction of the chairman of the candidate's supervisory committee and has been approved by all members of that committee. It was submitted to the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences and to the Graduate Council, and was approved as partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. June 20, 1967 Dean, ColLege Of Arts and Sciences Dean, Graduate School Supervisory Committee: Chairman: