Use these links to go
- 26 -
CHAPTER TWO
THE EARLY COMEDIES (II)
A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor
and The Merchant of Venice
In the next three Early Comedies there is a significant increase in the importance of music, song and dance. This is clearly seen in A Midsummer Night's Dream, which has love as one of its central themes. It opens with the preparations for a royal wedding, this being closely followed by the introduction of a lovers' quarrel. Plans for Quince's production of a play concerning the ill-fated love of Pyramus and Thisbe come next, and lastly we see the love relationship between Oberon and Titania under stress. Another concern of the play is the supernatural: the real world is made to interact with, and is influenced by, the fairly world, and Elizabethans would have found no difficulty in associating both love and the supernatural with music. The harmony of music was thought to correspond with harmony in love, as seen when Helena remarks on the love between herself and Hermia, who are said to be 'warbling of one song, both in one key' (III.ii.206). 2.1 There is ample evidence (discussed below), even within this one play, that music was thought to have mystical powers, and so it is hardly surprising, with love and fairies prominent in the play, that music is used on a larger scale in A Midsummer Night's Dream than in any of the earlier plays.
Egeus is the first to mention music, when he accuses Lysander of stealing Hermia using magic charms:
... thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchang'd love tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung
With faining voice verses of feigning love.
(I.i.29-31)
He concludes, 'With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart' (I.i.36). When it is realised that at the time this play was written the word 'cunning' could imply occult arts, 2.2 the significance of the song by moonlight is clear: Egeus thinks Lysander has used the mystic powers of music and rhymes to win Hermia. 2.3 This is not only the first mention of music within the play; it is also the first hint of the supernatural, in a context which Elizabethan audiences would probably find credible, magic powers being attributed to a song by moonlight. This prepares the way for the more fantastic moonlit scenes which are to follow.
The next appearance of music is in Helena's speech to Hermia later in the same scene:
- 27 -
Your eyes are lode-stars, and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than the lark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O were favour so,
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go:
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
(I.i.183-189)
Music here is seen as part of Nature: just as the lark pleases the shepherd with its song, so Hermia's voice, likened to a melody, pleases its hearers. The shepherd is soothed by the green wheat, hawthorn buds, and the lark's song, all presenting an harmonious pastoral scene which reflects the harmony between Hermia and her friends. Here music is attributed an almost magic power, as if it had some invisible, unexplained attractive force. Another pastoral setting with music is used when Titania encounters Oberon, accusing him of inconstancy:
... thou hast stol'n away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin, sat all day
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida.
(II.i.65-68)
Just as Egeus had accused Lysander of using the power of music to charm Hermia, so now Titania accuses Oberon of wooing a shepherdess by the same means. When, a little later, she again attributes a mystic power to music in saying, 'No night is now with hymn or carol blest' (II.i.102), there are clearly religious overtones, although it should be remembered that a carol could be secular.
The final reference to music before any is actually heard in the play is made by Oberon:
Thou rememb'rest
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid's music?
(III.i.148-154)
The power of music here is nothing short of miraculous, as it calms stormy seas and is able to make a star leave its guiding sphere. The sea-maid's music was indeed remarkable, as the harmony of the whole of Nature was bound up in the music of the spheres, which dictated the movement of the heavenly bodies. 2.4 After five references to music, each pointing to its
- 28 -
mystic power, Shakespeare has prepared his audience for the actual use of music in a charm.
This appears when Titania is to be sung to sleep, the song being 'You spotted snakes' (II.ii.9), a charm both to assist sleep and to protect the sleeper from danger. This song, together with the dance requested by Titania at the outset of the scene, would make the weaving of the spell the more obvious as well as adding delightfully to the visual impact. One of the functions of music in the play is to set the fairies apart from the mortals, 2.5 but it is not music per se which does this, however, as both fairies and mortals are involved in music making. Rather, it is the type of music used and the situation in which it is used that sets the fairies apart, the words of the present song adding considerably to the effect of fairy enchantment. All the creatures mentioned in the song, while harmless to full-sized men, are mentioned as threatening to fairies, thus emphasising their diminutive size. Oberon had mentioned at the close of the preceding scene that the snake's skin would be 'weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in' (II.i.256), and so the spotted snakes of the song would have little difficulty in swallowing a fairy whole.
This dainty fairy song puts Titania to sleep, while it is the rude song of Bottom which awakens her, the contrasting songs emphasising the difference between the real and fairy worlds. Bottom's song, 'The ousel cock, so black of hue' (III.i.120), may have been derived from 'A Poem of a Mayde Forsaken', 2.6 although the superficial resemblance between the two suggests that the words in the play are Shakespeare's own. The tune used would probably be a familiar one and the singing far from refined. The song is little more than a catalogue of birds, but mention of the cuckoo prompts the inevitable cuckold jest as it had done in Love's Labour's Lost:
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay ....
(III.i.125-128)
The significance of the cuckoo in this context is that Bottom could be, unwittingly, about to cuckold Oberon, while the last line of the song implies that no man can be absolutely sure of his wife - he dares not deny the cuckoo's accusation. The irony is that Bottom misinterprets this, saying the cuckoo is a foolish bird, not worth answering - just as Titania is preparing to approach him. The flower juice has taken effect:
I pray thee gentle mortal, sing again:
- 29 -
Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note;
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ....
(III.i.132-134)
Bottom's singing, as I have already mentioned, should be unrefined: he may even deliver the last word, 'nay', as a loud and tuneless 'neigh', to suit his ass's head, thus making Titania's infatuation the more ridiculous, while at the same time heightening the difference between the fairies and the 'mortal grossness' (III.i.153) of Bottom.
By the time Bottom sings his song his character as a confident, somewhat overbearing weaver has already been established in the rehearsal scenes. His taste in music, as established by the song and referred to again in the next act, reveals yet another facet of his character:
Tita.
What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
Bot.
I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs and bones.
(IV.i.27-29)
There has been some debate as to whether music should be played at this point, and Brooks follows Capell in thinking that Titania's next line, 'Or say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to eat?' (IV.i.30) dismisses Bottom's suggestion. 2.7 It could be argued that Titania could not bear to listen to such music, even to please Bottom, but Long, after admitting that this is 'a conflict ... difficult to resolve', favours the playing of music. 2.8 The Folio, which has more stage directions than the Quartos, 2.9 requires 'Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke' (1541), and I think it unlikely that Shakespeare would have included the reference to music in the dialogue at this point if he had not intended any to be played. The playing of 'Rurall Musicke' serves to emphasise Bottom's grossness, and need not interrupt the action. If Titania speaks over the music her line will sound quite natural as a thought just come to her, suggesting food as well as music, while the background of 'Rurall Musicke' would make Bottom's choice of asinine foods seem all the more ridiculous.
The next occurrence of music is after Titania has been released from the spell cast by Oberon, and it remains for the five sleeping mortals to be restored to their normal states (except for Demetrius). They must 'think no more of this night's accidents | But as the fierce vexation of a dream' (IV.i.67-68). To achieve this, music is used:
Obe.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tita.
Music ho, music, such as charmeth sleep!
(IV.i.80-82)
- 30 -
The music called for, 'such as charmeth sleep', would give sleep supernatural powers, thus making the night's events seem 'the fierce vexation of a dream'. Clearly this is yet another instance of mystic powers being attributed to music. The 'Musick still' (1600) called for in the Folio is probably some quiet, haunting piece which would create a suitable atmosphere, making the spell seem the more credible.
As soon as Bottom's ass's head has been removed Oberon calls for music again, this time jolly music to which he and Titania dance. At this point all the crises within the play have been resolved, the most important being that concerning Titania and Oberon, as it influenced the others. It may be recalled that earlier Oberon had ignored Titania's invitation to join in the fairy dance, preferring rather to upset their revels:
... never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou has disturb'd our sport.
(II.i.82-87)
The music and dancing which are performed when Oberon and Titania are reconciled symbolise their new-found harmonious relationship and give it physical expression. That dancing was commonly associated with love between man and woman is seen in Elyot's Boke Named the Gouernour of 1531:
And for as moche as by the association of a man and a woman in daunsinge may be signified matrimonie, I could in declarynge the dignitie and commoditie of that sacrament make intiere volumes, if it were nat so communely knowen to all men .... In euery daunse, of a moste auncient custome, there daunseth to gether a man and a woman, holding eche other by the hande or the arme, which betokeneth concorde. 2.10
Once their dispute is settled Oberon is able to predict that the two couples will be 'wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity' (IV.i.91), the implication being that the disruption in the fairy world had caused a corresponding disruption in the mortal world. Only when the fairy world is restored to harmony will the real world prosper, and so the fairy dance is a celebration of a return to order in the real world.
As soon as the fairies have left the stage there is the direction 'Winde Hornes' (1622), the obvious function of this being to grace the entrance of the royal hunting party. The hunting call is followed by a lengthy discussion between Theseus and Hippolyta on the blending of hounds' voices to produce a pleasing sound. Theseus' hounds are
- 31 -
... match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each: a cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn ....
(IV.i.122-124)
The harmony of cries was highly prized, even above ability to pursue in hunting. Obviously the use of the horn at the entrance of the party and its mention at the end of the discussion on the harmony of dogs' cries has some significance, particularly as, once the lovers are discovered asleep, Theseus gives the order to 'bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns' (IV.i.137). While it was fairy music which Titania used to influence their sleep, the mortal music of horns wakes the lovers to a world of reality. 2.11 It is also a world of harmony, as seen in the harmony of the cries of dogs in the hunt which follows the observance of the rite of May. The music of the horns confirms that the fairy spells have worked and that harmonious relationships have been restored between lovers.
After the triple wedding has taken place, Quince and his company present their play, which is followed by a Bergomask dance, 'a dance after the manner of the people of Bergamo, commonly ridiculed for their rusticity'. 2.12 It is quite possible that the music accompanying this dance was a song, particularly as Bottom asks the company if they would like to 'hear' the dance (V.i.339). This could, of course, be yet another of his comic misassociations of the functions of the senses, such as his 'The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen' (IV.i.209). The dance not only provides a satisfactory conclusion to the night's entertainment, but also serves as a final reminder of the contrast between the mortal world and that of the fairies, who bring the play to a close with a short masque-like episode which includes dance and song. Both Long and Noble suggest that the song to be sung by the fairies is not lost, although they differ in their opinions of exactly what words in the text constitute the song. 2.13 I have already mentioned that the music accompanying dances could be sung, 2.14 and it is quite possible that Shakespeare intended an appropriate song, now lost, to be used as the dance music. The function of the dance and song, quite clearly indicated by Titania, is to bless the newly married couple, and Oberon's speech which follows gives the blessing a more definite form:
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
(V.i.389-392)
Thus the two most important dramatic functions of music in A Midsummer
- 32 -
Night's Dream are to symbolise a harmonious love relationship and to create or strengthen an impression of the supernatural. In performing this second function it also emphasises the difference between the mortal world and the fairy world. Shakespeare's next comedy, The Merry Wives of Windsor, also makes use of fairy music, but in quite a different way.
I have decided to group The Merry Wives of Windsor with the Early Comedies, although it is often placed much later in the Shakespearean canon. Oliver has argued very convincingly for the date of 1597 for this play, but some editors place it as late as 1602. 2.15 Several musical similarities exist between it and A Midsummer Night's Dream, indicating that they were possibly written fairly close together. Both plays make use of a chorus of boys for fairy songs and dances; both use horn calls to herald a return to the real world from the fairy world; both plays contain what may be termed 'fear songs' - those sung to disguise fear (Bottom sings 'The ousel cock' and Evans sings 'To shallow rivers', both in attempts to keep up their spirits); and finally, they both make use of animal head disguises in situations using music. Taken together these points give some additional evidence, albeit slight, for placing The Merry Wives of Windsor shortly after A Midsummer Night's Dream.
In The Merry Wives of Windsor, the least serious of Shakespeare's plays, music and song play a significant part in the humour. The first instance of this is seen at Falstaff's first entrance, when he is attacked by the enraged Shallow:
Shal.
Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my lodge.
Fal.
But not kissed your keeper's daughter?
(I.i.103-105) 2.16
Oliver agrees with earlier editors that Falstaff's reply 'seems to be a quotation from some lost deer-stealing ballad', 2.17 but I think it likely that both Shallow's accusation and Falstaff's reply are related to a ballad. Presumably Shallow had used words at least similar, if not identical, to those of a ballad, and this had prompted Falstaff's impertinent rejoinder. The complete ballad may have had some relevance to the play, as, for example, is the case with the fragments from The Taming of the Shrew, already discussed. Even without this, Falstaff's quick perception of the opportunity to poke fun at the cantankerous Shallow would have raised a laugh.
Another fragment is used later in the first act when Mistress Quickly is surprised by the unexpected arrival of Caius. The Folio reads, '(and downe, downe, adowne'a. & c.' (436), this being italicised, probably indicating that it should be sung. The '& c.' is obviously an instruction
- 33 -
to carry on singing (until interrupted by Caius) the well-known refrain, the words of which are unimportant, although Long suggests a bawdy ballad was the original. 2.18 The humour is not so much in what is sung as in the situation. Mistress Quickly, no doubt sure that she is succeeding admirably in concealing Simple, is over-elaborate and quite artless in her attempt: with the probably confused John standing before her, she cries, 'What, John Rugby! John! What, John, I say! Go John, go enquire for my master: I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home' (I.iv.36-38). After this comes her ridiculous song, performed with supreme nonchalance. Caius, unimpressed, says, 'Vat is you sing? I do not like des toys' (I.iv.40), but he does not pursue the matter.
The next use of song is in the dialogue between Mrs Ford and Mrs Page, who are discussing Falstaff's letters. Mrs Ford makes a musical comparison:
... I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the hundred Psalms to the tune of 'Greensleeves'.
(II.i.57-61)
The tune of this amorous lyric would have been considered unsuitable for the sacred words of the Psalms, but a fitting context for 'Greensleeves' is the final meeting between Mrs Ford and Falstaff, where the latter, calling up 'a tempest of provocation' (V.v.21), cries, 'let it thunder to the tune of "Greensleeves"' (V.v.19). Although as far as Falstaff is concerned 'Greensleeves' is an admirable expression of his carnal desires, the choice is an unfortunate one, as it will probably remind Mrs Ford (and the audience) of her earlier comparison, thus reinforcing at this critical moment the idea that he is insincere in his protestations of love.
The success of Mrs Ford's simile concerning the Psalms and 'Greensleeves' depends on the audience's sense of the ridiculous. A similar appeal is made in Act III, where Evans awaits the arrival of Caius, his opponent in a duel, singing in order to take his mind off the impending crisis. This in itself is funny, but the humour is heightened by the lyrics, which have two sources. The first is Marlowe's poem, 'Come liue with mee', given in full by Seng. 2.19 The words Evans sings appear half way through the second stanza:
And wee will sit vpon the Rocks,
Seeing the sheepheards feede theyr flocks,
By shallow Riuers to whose falls,
Melodious byrds sings Madrigalls.
This poem was very popular, and would therefore have been well-known by the audience. 2.20 Its theme is love, and, as the sexual imagery of the first
- 34 -
stanza shows, it was certainly not suitable for a parson to sing:
Come liue with mee, and be my loue,
And we will all the pleasures proue,
That Vallies, groues, hill and fieldes,
Woods, or steepie mountaine yeeldes.
The second source of Evans' song is Psalm 137 in the metrical version, from which he takes only the beginning, 'Whenas we sat in Babylon'. 2.21 Oliver suggests that the confusion in Evans' mind arises from similarities between the psalm and the poem: sadness, rivers and trees. 2.22 I would add that sitting is another link: the psalm's 'Whenas we sat in Babylon' and Marlowe's 'And wee will sit vpon the Rocks'. Clearly Evans is thinking more of the duel than what he is singing.
Seng, while conceding that it is impossible to know whether Evans used a secular tune or a psalm tune for his song, suggests that it was probably the latter. 2.23 Oliver refutes this, citing the fact that the Quarto does not quote Psalm 137, but a ballad, 'There dwelt a man in Babylon'. 2.24 Presumably, therefore, the Quarto reporter had no recollection of a psalm, an unlikely lapse of memory if a psalm tune had been used. Oliver himself argues elsewhere that the Quarto is 'a most corrupt version of the play', 2.25 and I feel that his grounds for rejecting a psalm tune are therefore unsound. Seng comments on the obvious humour of hearing the parson singing profane words to sacred music, 2.26 but fails to mention that the idea had already been prepared for in Mrs Ford's speech in the previous act, where she mentioned singing Psalms to 'Greensleeves'. I think it likely that Shakespeare thought the idea a good one, and used it in reverse with Evans.
It is interesting to speculate on Shakespeare's reasons for choosing Marlowe's words and why he should have made Evans start in the second stanza, at the third line. Any amatory lyric would have been adequate if the only aim was to make the parson look ridiculous. Bearing in mind that the reason Caius has challenged Evans is that he thinks Evans is wooing Anne Page, the words are seen to be ironic, as the song is precisely the type Evans would be expected to sing if he were courting Anne. The second word of his song, 'shallow', perhaps reminds the audience that it should be Shallow who is fighting the duel, as it is Shallow who is instrumental in winning Anne's affections for Slender. There had been a similar play on names earlier when Caius declared, 'Dere is some simples in my closet dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind' (I.iv.58-59). Instead of finding his simples in the closet, he finds Simple himself. 'Shallow rivers' may also refer to another of the play's characters, Ford. He is particularly to be associated with rivers, as his chosen alias when in disguise is Brook,
- 35 -
and Falstaff has already punned on this: 'Such Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflows such liquor' (II.ii.145-146). The 'falls' would then be the downfall of Ford, Falstaff being the singer of Madrigals, or lover of Ford's wife. Supporting this interpretation is the fact that Evans confuses Marlowe's words, giving them bawdy overtones. Marlowe's lines read:
And I will make thee beds of Roses,
And a thousand fragrant poesies.
Evans twists this to 'There will we make our peds of roses' (III.i.18). This is much less subtle than Marlowe: the flower was a common symbol for the female sexual organ, and the rose was used similarly. 2.27 The 'peds' are thus beds of lust. This is made more explicit the second time Evans sings the words, as, in his increasing agitation, his Welsh pronunciation becomes more marked, resulting in a change of 'fragrant' to 'vagram':
Melodious birds sing madrigals -
Whenas I sat in Pabylon -
And a thousand vagram posies.
(III.i.22-24)
It is a small step from 'vagram' to 'vagrom', an illiterate form of 'vagrant' which was used by Dogberry: 'you shall comprehend all vagrom men' (Much Ado III.iii.25). 2.28 Marlowe's 'fragrant poesies' thus become women of ill repute in Evans' hands.
The matter is made even worse, if this is possible, by the syntax. The singer not only sat in Babylon, but also in 'a thousand vagram posies'. Sitting in Babylon has a sexual meaning, Babylon being the name of the great apocalyptic whore:
And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication: And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. 2.29
The idea of a terrified parson unintentionally singing such indecent words to the tune of a psalm is irresistibly funny.
For the main business of the final scene of the play Shakespeare chose a masque-like episode. It is generally agreed that the idea for this came from Lyly's Endimion, 2.30 although the degree to which Shakespeare was influenced by Lyly cannot be determined. Exactly how much music was included in the final scene of The Merry Wives of Windsor when it was first performed
- 36 -
will probably never be known, as the Quartos and First Folio differ considerably. The Folio is the more reliable text, 2.31 although, without any real justification, Long prefers the Quarto version for this final scene alone, the Quarto requiring two fairy songs, although the words for both are missing. 2.32 The Folio has only one song and gives its words.
The masque starts humorously as Falstaff greets Mrs Ford and Mrs Page: 'As I am a true spirit, welcome!' (V.v.29-30). At this point horns sound and the supposed fairies enter. Falstaff is, however, not a true spirit, and the fairies are most unwelcome to him. The use of horns here not only heralds the supernatural, but also reminds Falstaff of Herne the hunter: 2.33 he has good grounds for fear. The fairy speeches in rhyming couplets have an air of ritual which will make itself felt despite the fact that Mistress Quickly, Evans and Pistol are the principal players, and cannot entirely disguise their normal speech habits. That this is so is evidenced by the fact that Falstaff refers to a 'Welsh fairy' (V.v.82).
The song, sung by the whole chorus of boy fairies, fulfils several dramatic functions. The most important of these is that it provides a charming background to the punishing of the lecherous Falstaff in its condemnation of 'lust and luxury' (V.v.95). While it is being sung the fairies mete out the traditional fairy punishment of pinching as they dance about their victim. 2.34 A second function of the song is that it provides the confusion necessary to cover up the three elopements in the Anne Page plot. A lengthy stage direction in the Quarto describes the dumb-show which takes place during the singing of the song:
Here they pinch him, and sing about him, & the Doctor comes one way he takes a boy in greene: And Fenton steales misteris Anne, being in white. And a noyse of hunting is made within: and all the fairies runne away. 2.35
The song is thus an elegant and concise means of terminating both the main plot and the sub-plot. The play has been concerned with different types of love: the carnal love of Falstaff, which can end only disastrously; Slender's indifferent love (if that is not too strong a word) which is entirely a matter of his own slender reason (I.i.206-207); the love of Caius, a social contract arranged by Mrs Page; and finally, the true love of Fenton, also initially concerned with wealth, but matured into something deeper (III.iv.13-18). All these love affairs reach their culmination simultaneously, with a fairy blessing being pronounced on true love and honesty, while false love (of the flesh) is condemned. The condemnation is not so serious as to obscure the humour: while the song is performed it is punctuated by cries from the ridiculously disguised Falstaff, and
- 37 -
Slender's call of 'mum' with the boy's reply of 'budget'. Predictably, the song and dancing over, the play ends happily, with only Slender and Caius being seriously thwarted. Falstaff seems to have learnt the lesson taught him by the fairy song and dance, and even he is invited home by Mrs Page, to 'laugh this sport o'er by a country fire' (V.v.239).
From the comfortable English world of The Merry Wives of Windsor, a frivolous comedy, Shakespeare moved to the more disturbing Italy of The Merchant of Venice. In this play he attempted to fuse comedy and tragedy, and although tragic element are present in earlier comedies (The Two Gentlemen of Verona in particular), the comic action is never seriously threatened as it is in The Merchant of Venice. The most disturbing features of the play are Shylock's treatment of Antonio, and, closely related to it, Portia's treatment of Shylock. The Jew is shown to be cunning and avaricious, but what escapes most critics of the play is that the Christians are no better. Music is one device used to highlight the faults of the Christians. For many years the song in The Merchant of Venice has been a controversial issue. Many critics maintain that when Portia orders the song she tells Bassanio which casket to choose, 2.36 while others take the opposite view, that Portia remains true to her father's will not to reveal the secret of the caskets. 2.37 The validity of these opinions cannot be assessed without considering the play as a whole, for much depends on how the characters of Bassanio and Portia are to be interpreted. I propose, therefore, to discuss Shakespeare's intentions in writing the play before I consider the dramatic function of the song itself.
The question arises as to what sort of character Shylock is. Charlton suggests that Shakespeare had intended to create a villain similar to Barabas in Marlowe's The Jew of Malta, 2.38 for whom an audience could feel no sympathy. Shakespeare's Shylock, I feel, is noticeably different: however much his behaviour may be detested, there is always an uneasy feeling that he has been badly treated. Shylock, unlike Barabas, is human. 2.39 There was a good deal of hostility towards Jews when Shakespeare wrote The Merchant of Venice and the sensational trial and execution of the Portuguese Jew, Roderigo Lopez, charged with treason, must have intensified feelings. Palmer suggests that Shakespeare may have known Lopez personally, and if he did not actually see his public execution he would have known its sordid details. 2.40 Palmer does not, however, attribute to Shakespeare any 'political or social intentions' in writing the play, 2.41 which is most surprising. I think it likely that Shakespeare the artist was able to view the political events of his time more objectively than most men and that he would have questioned the morality of Christian attitudes to Jews.
This questioning is disguised behind the favourite Elizabethan theme
- 38 -
of the conflict between appearances and reality - and many critics have seen only the appearance, not the reality. Shylock only appears inhuman, whereas a closer examination reveals that his inhumanity, his thirst for vengeance, is a direct result of his treatment by the Christians. 2.42 Although he has declared that he hates Antonio for his Christian principles, he tries to come to terms with him:
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with ....
(I.iii.134-135) 2.43
There is no corresponding goodwill on the part of Antonio, who hates Shylock for his usury. This hatred, which is flaunted as if it were a virtue, is hypocritical, as the man who agrees to borrow on interest, as Antonio wanted to, is himself countenancing usury. Bassanio needs the money to help him to marry Portia - for her money, which will help him to clear his debts. Thus the characters of Bassanio and Antonio are far from spotless.
This applies equally to Portia. Her double standards are seen in the trial scene where she asks Shylock to be merciful, but grants him none herself. The audience has been prepared for her conduct by Bassanio's comment as he contemplates the caskets:
So may the outward shows be least themselves -
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament -
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil?
(III.ii.73-77)
Portia goes about Antonio's defence in a most cruel way, leading Shylock into a position which enables her to crush him utterly. Her deliverance of Antonio serves her desire to persecute Shylock.
If Portia is capable of this, she is surely capable of artfully contriving to guide Bassanio in his choice of casket. The precedent for this is in one of Shakespeare's possible sources, Ser Giovanni's Il Pecorone, where the servant of the beautiful lady warns Gianetto not to drink the drugged wine, thus helping him to win her. 2.44 Seng argues that the similar behaviour of Portia in guiding Bassanio 'would be no more than a charming - and pardonable - fault'. 2.45 In other words, the end justifies the means, however dishonest. The end gives a seeming respectability to what is in reality a dishonourable act. Once again, the Christians are seen in a bad light.
How, exactly, does Portia guide Bassanio? To be scrupulously true to her father's will she should have treated every suitor identically. The
- 39 -
only music conferred upon Morocco and Arragon is the conventional flourish at their entrances, while Bassanio, on the other hand, is given a song. Brown notes that this 'dignifies and adds expectation to the dramatic context'. 2.46 It does indeed: the use of music at this point creates an atmosphere quite unlike that in the two previous casket scenes. Even without the aid of words, instrumental music could go a long way in inducing a suitably meditative frame of mind which might help the chooser make the right decision. Portia goes further, however, and adds a song - one which is singularly inappropriate to her stated reasons for ordering music: as a dirge if Bassanio makes the wrong choice, or, if the right choice is made, as a 'flourish, when true subjects bow | To a new-crowned monarch' (III.ii.49-50). Surely, in the latter case at least, the same flourish as greeted Morocco and Arragon would have sufficed?
Superficially, the song is a warning to the young lovers. 'Fancy' may be taken to mean a capricious liking, and the song suggests that such affection between lovers will not last: 'Fancy dies | In the cradle where it lies' (III.ii.68-69). Fancy 'is engend'red in the eyes' (III.ii.67), a clear reminder of the type of love Bassanio initially had for Portia, which was illustrated in his earlier discussion with Antonio. He emphasised her beauty (as well as her wealth) and continued:
... sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages ....
(I.i.163-164)
Thus Bassanio's love is based partly on Portia's good looks and partly on her money. Similarly Portia places great stress on outward appearance, as seen when Nerissa says of Bassanio, 'he of all the men that ever my foolish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady' (I.ii.112), and Portia agrees. The song's warning thus applies equally to both lovers.
However, it is possible to read 'fancy' in a different way. It could mean true love, in which case its being 'engend'red in the eyes' does not refer to superficial amour based on good looks, but to an early belief still current in Elizabethan times, that the soul could leave or enter the body through the eyes. When two people fell in love it was supposed that their souls left their bodies and mingled with each other. The returning soul thus took with it some of the soul with which it had mixed. A clear illustration of this is found in Donne's 'The Extasie'. 2.47 This reading finds support in the 'fair speechless messages' Bassanio received from Portia's eyes. Furthermore, Portia has said,
- 40 -
Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'erlook'd me and divided me,
One half of me is yours, the other half yours, -
Mine own I would say: but if mine then yours ....
(III.ii.14-17)
If this is the correct reading then the death of Fancy in the second stanza needs some explanation. Freud has suggested that the three caskets are symbols for three women, and shows, by reference to dreams, myths and fairy tales, that the third woman should be Death. 2.48 For this reason Portia is the leaden casket, lead being associated with death. That the third woman in myth is not Death, but, like Portia, the most beautiful of women, is explained by Freud as a reaction against something undesirable: 'Man, as we know, makes use of his imaginative activity in order to satisfy the wishes that reality does not satisfy'. 2.49 The fact remains, however, that there is always an element of death, or sacrifice, in love, and Long notes that 'the paradox of the lover choosing death in choosing love' is not unusual in the literature of the period. 2.50 Empson says, 'Lead, a fundamental mere humanity, eventual death, must be accepted, must be chosen, before one can get what one wants'. 2.51 This is part of the conflict between appearance and reality, emphasised by the fact that the golden casket contains a portrait of Death, while Portia's portrait, a symbol of the living woman, is enclosed in lead.
It is in the consideration of this conflict that Bassanio receives his most direct clue as to which casket to choose. Noble says, 'The tenour of the song is very obvious, the hint very plain to be beware of that which is pleasing to the sight'. 2.52 Bassanio's meditation which follows the song seems prompted by the song, being a continuation of the thoughts expressed there:
So may the outward shows be least themselves -
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament ....
(III.ii.73-74)
Brown missed the point in saying that Bassanio's 'thirty-four lines would be an odd elaboration if he believed that the song had given him the secret'. 2.53 The song does not directly tell Bassanio how to choose; it merely sets him on the (inevitably) right path. Portia's duplicity was in providing the clue which would enable Bassanio to work out the answer for himself.
Dover Wilson has suggested two more possible clues in the song: 'lead' rhymes with the rhymes of the first stanza, and the funeral bell in the second stanza could be associated with lead, as corpses were buried in lead. 2.54 The first of these suggestions seems plausible enough, particularly as this type of word-play was popular in Elizabethan drama. Granville-Barker
- 41 -
objects: 'how is an audience to be let into the secret? Are they likely to tag extra rhymes to the words of a song as they listen to it?' 2.55 While this seems a reasonable objection, it should be remembered that the audience has seen two caskets eliminated already: only the lead remains. If they have noticed this, they are likely to think that Bassanio might associate lead with the rhymes. The second of Dover Wilson's suggestions seems highly tenuous to me, although it would add weight to the sub-conscious Freudian association of the third casket with death, which I have already discussed.
Both Dover Wilson and Empson see the song as directed more to the audience than Bassanio. 2.56 But Bassanio must hear the song as well, and, according to a stage direction (probably Shakespeare's own) he comments on the caskets during the song: 'Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himselfe' (1406-1408). His speech after the song is a continuation of his thoughts, and shows clearly that he has listened to the song. In suggesting that the audience is not meant to notice that Portia is helping Bassanio, thereby removing any moral problem in the use of the song, Empson misses the point. The song is Portia's means of disobeying her father's will while seeming to honour it. As a means of revealing Portia's duplicity, the song is an integral part of the play. If, on the other hand, the play is viewed romantically, as pure comedy, then the song can indeed be seen as a commentary directed at the audience, rather than Bassanio. In either case there are other (subservient) dramatic functions of the song: it removes the necessity of a third reading of the inscriptions on the caskets, 2.57 it heightens dramatic tension, 2.58 and it distinguishes Bassanio's casket scene from the other two, making the audience realise that this is a climactic moment.
No sooner has Bassanio made his choice than news arrives of Antonio's forfeiture of the bond. The trial scene, the second climax of the play, follows the return to Venice. After this, back in Belmont, the idyllic setting of moonlight and music deliberately softens the effect of the distasteful breaking of Shylock. It does not, however, cover up the Christians' faults entirely. The episode of the rings with its bawdy humour shows the lovers' relationships in their true light. The point is made clear by Lorenzo's evocation of love and harmony which opens the scene, after which the love of Portia and Bassanio seems hollow and ephemeral.
Lorenzo's discourse on music is lyrical, and to add to the effect music plays while he is speaking. Dramatically this is highly effective: music not only creates a meditative atmosphere, but may also stir the emotions of the listener. The music must remain essentially in the background if the words are not to be lost. There is a clear reference to the music of the spheres: 2.59
- 42 -
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
(V.i.60-65)
Music was a powerful symbol of love and harmony, and the perfect music of the spheres represented perfect love and harmony, unattainable by mortals. The closest approach to it was in real, audible music. The power of music over the spirit and its ability to put the soul into harmony with God and Nature explains why Jessica is 'never merry' (V.i.69) when she hears music. Her 'spirits are attentive' (V.i.70), caught up in the ecstasy induced by music. She, at least, is moved by music, but what of the man who is not? A man who has
... no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils,
....
Let no such man be trusted: - mark the music.
(V.i.83-85, 88)
This is reminiscent of Shylock. His reaction to the masque in Act II seems to indicate that he does not like music: he refers to 'the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife' (II.v.30) and 'the sound of shallow fopp'ry' (II.v.35). At Antonio's trial he refers to those who, 'when the bagpipe sings i' th' nose, | Cannot contain their urine' (IV.i.49-50). It seems, then, that Shylock is not to be trusted.
However, there are others to whom this judgement may apply. Solanio refers to those who 'laugh like parrots at a bagpiper' (I.i.53), bagpipe music being thought mournful, and this slight evidence brings his taste for music into doubt. Far more significant is Portia's reaction to the music in Act V. Our attention has just been drawn to the music by Lorenzo when Portia enters, and she seems to find musical sounds almost a matter of indifference. She feels the music sounds better at night, as does Lorenzo: 'soft stillness and the night | Become the touches of sweet harmony' (V.i.56-57). She then finds that, under the right circumstances, crow and lark, nightingale and wren, may be thought to have equally beautiful songs. This simply is not true, and indicates her lack of response to music, a slight stain on her character. This is in keeping with what has been seen of her at the trial, her conduct regarding the caskets, and, in a lighter vein, her behaviour in deceiving her husband and getting his ring. Once again,
- 43 -
music has been used to emphasise a central concern of the play: that the Christians are not perfect.
The three comedies dealt with in this chapter illustrate Shakespeare's growing confidence in using music, song and dance. A Midsummer Night's Dream contains more music than any of the earlier comedies, perhaps because music was such a powerful means of creating the illusion of a fairy world. This also accounts for the music and dancing at the end of The Merry Wives of Windsor, a play in which much of the humour is intimately concerned with music. Of the three plays, The Merchant of Venice contains the least music, but also the most important song, dramatically: 'Tell me where is Fancy bred' is an integral part of the plot, being the means whereby Bassanio is guided in his choice of caskets. The seven Early Comedies obviously did much to establish Shakespeare's techniques, preparing him to write his greatest works in the purely comic vein, Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It, and Twelfth Night.
- 109 -
CHAPTER TWO
2.1 The edition cited is William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, ed. Harold F. Brooks (London: Methuen, 1979). return
2.2 Onions, p.438: 'Cunning ... sb. ... 4. A science or art, a craft. In early times often = occult art. -1592'. return
2.3 There is a later parallel, without music, in Brabantio's accusation of Othello (I.iii.60-64). return
2.4 Naylor, p.147 et seq. return
2.5 Long, Seven Comedies, p.101. return
2.6 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.35. return
2.8 Long, Seven Comedies, p.95. return
2.9 Brooks, pp.xxii-xxviii. return
- 110 -
2.10 Thomas Elyot, The Boke Named the Gouernour, ed. Ernest Rhys (London: Dent, n.d.), p.94. return
2.11 Long, Seven Comedies, p.95 return
2.13 Long, Seven Comedies, p.98; Noble, p.56. The Folio has 'The Song' (2184) heading the stanzas starting at 'Now vntill the breake of day' (2185) and ending with 'Meet me all by breake of day' (2206), which are italicised. The Quartos, more likely to be correct, give this speech to Oberon (see Brooks, p.126, collation), and mention neither song nor dance in the stage directions. I feel that a song and dance should appear where the Folio has 'The Song', but the song has been lost. return
2.14 See Naylor, pp.110-111. return
2.15 William Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor, ed. H.J. Oliver (London: Methuen, 1979), pp.xlix-lviii. return
2.16 The edition cited is that by Oliver, mentioned in the previous note. return
2.18 Long, Final Comedies, p.5. return
2.19 Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.164-165. return
2.21 Ibid., pp.165-166. return
2.23 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.164. return
2.25 Ibid., p.viii and pp.xiii-xxxvii. return
2.26 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.164. return
2.27 Eric Partridge, Shakespeare's Bawdy: A Literary and Psychological Essay and a Comprehensive Glossary, rev. ed. (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1968), p.176. return
2.28 Onions, p.2330: 'Vagrom ... a. 1599. [Illiterate alteration of VAGRANT ...]'. Onions' date is obviously based on the use of the word 'vagrom' in Much Ado About Nothing, but this itself could be evidence of its earlier use. return
2.30 Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.168-169. return
2.31 As already mentioned. See Oliver, pp.xiii-xxxvii. return
2.32 Long, Final Comedies, p.5. return
- 111 -
2.34 See Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.169-170. Dromio of Syracuse in The Comedy of Errors, when he suspects fairies of tormenting him, says, 'They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue' (II.ii.192). return
2.35 Oliver, p.142, collation. return
2.36 Noble, p.45; Long, Seven Comedies, p.107; Peter J. Seng, 'The Riddle Song in Merchant of Venice', Notes and Queries, CCII (1958), 191 (hereafter cited as Seng, Riddle); A.D. Moody, Shakespeare: The Merchant of Venice (London: Edward Arnold, 1971), p.33; Quiller-Couch and Dover Wilson in William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, ed. Arthur Quiller-Couch and John Dover Wilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), p.149. return
2.37 John Russell Brown, 'The Riddle song in The Merchant of Venice', Notes and Queries, CCIV (1959), 235 (this work is not cited again); Harley Granville-Barker, Prefaces to Shakespeare: Second Series (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1954), p.73 n. (hereafter cited as Granville-Barker, Second Series). return
2.38 H.B. Charlton, Shakespearian Comedy (London: Methuen, 1973), p.127. return
2.39 Charlton attributes this humanity to Shakespeare's 'creative imagination' (p.160): the artist's intuition, his higher vision, could not allow him to realise his anti-Semitic intentions. If this is correct, it is a serious indictment on Marlowe's artistic vision! It seems more likely that Shakespeare intended his Jew to arouse sympathy ,while Marlowe did not. return
2.40 John Palmer, Political and Comic Characters of Shakespeare (London: Macmillan, 1965), p.401. return
2.42 Moody, p.30 et seq. return
2.43 The edition cited is William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, ed. John Russell Brown, 7th ed. (London: Methuen, 1966). return
2.44 See Noble, p.45, and Brown, p.147. return
2.45 Seng, Riddle, p.193. return
2.47 For the poem see Helen Gardner, ed., The Metaphysical Poets (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972), p.74. return
2.48 Sigmund Freud, 'The Theme of the Three Caskets', The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, trans. and ed. James Strachey, Anna Freud, Alix Strachey and Alan Tyson (London: Hogarth Press, 1968), XII, 292 and 295. return
2.50 Long, Seven Comedies, pp.110-111. return
2.51 William Empson, Seven Types of Ambiguity, 3rd ed. (London: Chatto and Windus, 1956), p.44. return
- 112 -
2.54 Dover Wilson, Comedies, p.99. return
2.55 Granville-Barker, Second Series, p.74 n. return
2.56 Dover Wilson, Comedies, p.100; Empson, p.43. return
2.59 For a good account of Pythagorianism particularly relevant here, see Gretchen Ludke Finney, Musical Backgrounds for English Literature 1580-1650, rpt. (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1976), p.32 et seq. return
Proceed to Chapter Three