Disguise plots in Elizabethan drama

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Preface

In this book the dramatic construction and stage representation of the plays of Shakespeare and his brother playwrights have been inspected from a new angle of observation; and it is believed that the results obtained may help the reader to understand more completely the practice of Elizabethan playwrights, the nature of their medium, and the tastes of their audience.

It is hoped that the illustrative significance of the four hundred and twenty-five plots here discussed may in some measure palliate the offense of many omissions. It should perhaps be explained that certain disguise situations, even though occurring in well-known plays, have been deliberately omitted in favor of other situations which served better to illustrate the point being made. Incidentally, this comparative study of Elizabethan plays in a new alignment has revealed a number of inter-relations which are here discussed for the first time.

I take pleasure in expressing my obligation to Doctor Orie L. Hatcher of Bryn Mawr College, who suggested the subject and has offered many constructive criticisms of this work; to Doctor Winifred Smith of Vassar College, who kindly loaned me her translations of the commedie delV arte in the Scala collection; and to Miss Vera Parsons for pointing out a great many disguise plots in Italian novelle. To Professor Brander Matthews and to Professor G. C. D. Odell, who have read the manuscript, I am greatly indebted for careful and illuminating criticisms. To my colleague Professor Francis B. Gummere I wish to express my heartfelt thanks for warm viii PREFACE

sympathy and encouragement. To a patient and inspiring teacher, Professor Ashley H. Thorndike, more is due than can easily be expressed. His extensive and exact knowledge of the drama has often been appealed to, and never in vain; and his searching comments have frequently stolen their way bodily into the pages of this book.

V. O. F.

Haverford College, January 25, 1915

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I Introduction 1

II The Technic of Dramatic Disguise 5

Chapter I Introduction

The use of disguise is an old stratagem in literature as well as in life. Achilles lived for a time undisturbed with his love because he was disguised as a maiden. Apollo in the stress of battle appeared in the guise of a common soldier and encouraged his favorite hero. Odysseus returned from his wanderings in the shape of a beggar in order that he might not be recognized at home. Haroun al Raschid dressed himself in lowly costume and pursued adventures among his people. Up in the icebound North, Thor had to utilize a female impersonation before he could regain his stolen hammer from Thrym. Down in the pastoral valley of Beersheba Jacob disguised himself as Esau and by a brief dissimulation gained his brother's birthright.

If we narrow our view to a single type of literature, the drama, we shall find a long succession of disguise situations reaching its height in the Renaissance drama of Italy, England, and Spain. On the London stage alone disguise occurs with important dramatic functions in more than two hundred extant plays which were produced before the death of Shakespeare.

A dramatic device so frequently used must be worthy of particular attention. 1 If we analyze Twelfth Night, for

1 The only previous studies that have come to my attention are Schulz's monograph on the sources of the disguises in eight of Shakeexample, we find that Viola's disguise has definite functions in the development and termination of the plot. When we learn that Ben Jonson did not dare to produce the same kind of plots as Plautus for fear his audience would not accept certain stage improbabilities, we become interested in the theatrical methods of representing disguise situations. The study of dramaturgy and stagecraft involves dramatic history; and this history reveals interesting relations which perpetuated definite traditions in disguise plots. The English dramatists, like Moliere, took their treasures where they could find them. Obviously these dramatists took the treasures, not because they found them, but because they recognized their value in the theater. This recognition of dramatic values resulted in repetition and conventionalizing. Our chief interest in this book, as may be guessed from the chapter headings, is to follow out the careers, so to speak, of the various traditional disguises in Elizabethan drama.

First of all we must make sure of our terms. Dramatic disguise, in our discussion, means a change of personal appearance which leads to mistaken identity. There is a double test, change and confusion. Disguise has a large number of relatives, and we ourselves must make no mistakes in identity. We cannot refer to the twin motive in the Comedy of Errors as disguise, because the confusion in that play is not due to a change of costume and facial appearance. Nor can we apply the term " disguise " to the trick of substitution in a dark chamber, or to the verbal misrepresentations of a stranger who misleads us with respect to his identity. Eavesdropping is similar to spying in dis-

speare's plays, Ziige's monograph on disguises in the English and Scottish ballads, Jackson's paper on disguise in Sanskrit drama, and Creizenach's half dozen pages of remarks on the use of disguise in English drama. Dr. H. W. L. Dana has an excellent unpublished article entitled " The Disguised Heroine in the Sixteenth Century."

INTRODUCTION 6

guise; it results in the same sort of complication for the person under observation. The pretence of deafness may also have the same results as spying in disguise. Yet in the cases of twins, substitution, misrepresentation, eavesdropping, and deafness the dramatic mistakes are not due to change of appearance.

On the other hand, change of appearance may not always lead to mistaken identity. Volpone makes up to seem at death's door, which results in deception, but the victims mistake his condition and not his identity. The wearing of a mask or fantastic costume by a person would not naturally induce another to decide on his identity. On the contrary, it would suspend the decision until the mask was removed or until some individual mark or manner betrayed the person. Let us understand then that the plots we are to study contain confusion of identity resulting from the alteration of personal appearance.

As a basis for the division of our material we shall use the disguise situation as such. We shall place in one category all cases of girls disguised as boys, whether such disguises have been prompted by love, hate, the spirit of adventure, curiosity, jealousy, or infidelity, and whether the action occurs in tragedy, comedy, or farce. The most definite division of disguises is according to sex. All women disguised as boys or men we shall call female pages, even though, for example, Bess Bridges masquerades as a sea captain, and not as a mere page. Boys or men disguised as women we shall include in the chapter entitled The Boy Bride. To be sure, Bartholomew, in the Induction to the Taming of The Shrew, does not actually become a boy bride; but the complication is essentially of the same nature as that in Epicoene. The spy in disguise became a traditional figure, appearing in situations that also became traditional. Hence we must classify spy plays in a group by themselves.

Plays in which a single character, usually a rogue, impersonates many parts with lightning changes, are grouped in the chapter entitled The Rogue in Multi-Disguise. Situations in which the lover employs disguise constitute another group. Thus we have five types of disguise situation, identified by the female page, the boy bride, the rogue in multi-disguise, the disguised spy, and the disguised lover. Each type is classified according to the dramatic pattern of plot weaving, and named according to the distinctive feature in that pattern. In the situations of the female page and the boy bride the changes of sex are more distinctive than the purposes which inspired those changes. The action derives its characteristic dramatic value from the costumes rather than from what is in the minds of the persons. In the disguised spy and disguised lover plays, however, the purposes, not the costumes, are paramount. Even though the spy be a woman dressed as a man, the plot pattern does not usually resemble that of a female page play. These five types then may be considered mutually exclusive; they are sufficiently inclusive for all the important disguises in English drama.

The year 1616 has been chosen as an arbitrary terminal in tracing out disguise traditions. Disguise appears frequently after that time but lacks novelty in dramatic method. Many of the later plays will be alluded to, but no exhaustive study of them will be made. Our limitation gives opportunity for a somewhat detailed study of the plays of Shakespeare and his immediate contemporaries.

Chapter II

THE TECHNIC OF DRAMATIC DISGUISE To counterfet well is a good consayte. — Magnificence.

Before we can intelligently follow the course of any traditional disguise situation, we must consider the technical aspects of disguise in general. Let us examine briefly the constructive function of the motive, from the point of view of the playwright, and its physical or theatrical value from the point of view of the stage manager. Disguise is an effective dramatic contrivance because the deception which produces action and the recognition which ends it are fundamentally dramatic transactions; and because the change of costume together with the mimetic action of body and dissimulation of voice involve the essence of theatricality. For dramaturgic effectiveness there are few better mechanical devices. Yet it must be understood from the beginning that disguise is only a mechanical and external cause of action. When a dramatist builds a tragedy on the basis of mad ambition or vacillating desire for revenge, he is using an abstract or psychological cause. When comic action results from gullibility, or braggadocio, the motive is again abstract. But when pity and fear are aroused by the clashing of bloody swords, or when laughter comes at the sight of unctuous avoirdupois or ridiculous grimacings, the dramatic causes are physical and concrete. Such a physical device is the disguise motive.

The test of plot structure needs no very elaborate formula. It is perhaps better to limit ourselves to two elements of plot action, the complication and ultimate resolution. A playwright, before constructing a plot, must find a factor which is capable of producing dramatic complication. He must also find a factor which will produce a sure resolution of this complication. It stands to reason then that a device which complicates and is at the same time capable of resolving, is especially desirable to him. Disguise is such a device. For as soon as disguise is successfully assumed there is probability of complication which involves the persons deceived and the one deceiving; and when the disguise is discovered there is an end to the complication. We shall consider disguise basic when it initiates and develops, as well as resolves, the action of the given plot.

As a complicating factor disguise is useful because its results seem natural. The results are also partly foreseen, an important consideration, since expectancy is one of the keenest joys of the spectator. When a girl disguises herself as a page and goes out into the world we know that there will be trouble before the day is over. She may fall in love with some man and regret that she cannot display her charms in feminine raiment. Some Olivia, mistaking her sex, may fall in love with her, and some rival may challenge her to a duel. She may meet her lover, and he may unknowingly utilize her disguise to deepen his own infidelity towards her. Other types of disguise may initiate similar dramatic actions. Suppose we have an amorous gull who is disposed to fall in love with any petticoat; he meets some boy disguised as a girl, and the farcical results are inevitable. Suppose we hear a ruler say that he is going on a vacation. We suspect that the mice intend to play. But the shrewd ruler, instead of departing, remains in disguise. Again the complications are probable and interesting. On some dark night a lover steals to his beloved in the disguise of her husband. We learn that the husband is returning and we eagerly anticipate the results. These are only a few typical examples to illustrate how easily disguise may initiate a convincing plot.

The plot once started, complications will accumulate with every circumstance until the revelation of disguise unties the knot. Many of the dramatic difficulties which beset the disguised person or his victims may be entirely unforeseen by the audience; in constructing such situations the playwright needs considerable dramaturgic skill if he would hold his audience balanced between suspense and surprise.

The most common use of disguise in constructing a plot is illustrated by Twelfth Night. The disguise of Viola is basic, and the results are manifold and highly dramatic; yet the use of this disguise is simple. Viola changes to male costume at the beginning of the story, and chance does the rest. She had not foreseen the complications and was simply a victim in the play. It was her disguise which constantly led her into difficulties.

A different method of producing action is illustrated by the spy in Measure for Measure. In such a spy situation the disguised person is decidedly active. He is, as it were, the stage manager of the plot; for he initiates, oversees, and terminates the action; but he is the chief actor too. In the simpler spying situations the spy may stand safely aloof and watch the process of events ; but in Measure for Measure, as in many spy plays, he utilizes disguise not only to observe but to shape events as well.

In multi-disguise plays disguise is by the definition basic. But it is not basic in the sense that the disguises in Twelfth Night or in Measure for Measure are basic, where a single and simple change of appearance operates with cumulative effect. A multi-disguise play is rather a series of transitions from one situation to another. Each disguise is an episode in itself, and the unity of the whole is like the unity in a string of beads. The complexity does not usually reach a logical crisis. Whether there shall be four changes of costume or four dozen, is settled arbitrarily by the playwright. A motive similar to multi-disguise is the device of shifting out of disguise into the real character, then into the disguise, then back into the real character again. It occurs in the Malcontent, Measure for Measure, and elsewhere.

The types above mentioned illustrate dramatic procedure when the audience is aware of the disguise and expectant of results. But in some plays, Epiccene and Philaster, for example, the presence of disguise is not known by the audience, and consequently cannot be used as an impelling cause of action. The plot must be woven apparently by some other agency. This subject of unforeseen discovery of disguise is so important that we shall discuss it somewhat in detail a few pages below.

Sometimes disguise is apparently a subsidiary, but actually a very important, factor in a play. Every Man in His Humour, for example, is appreciated chiefly as a comedy of "humours." But it is interesting to note that the movement from one situation to another is largely effected through the machinations of Brainworm with his disguises.

The use of a disguise episode as a dramatic link between two situations is a simple but effective dramaturgic device. It is best illustrated by Portia's manoeuvre in the Merchant of Venice. Her disguise enables her to terminate the tragic part of the plot, but it initiates a new set of comic complications, which end by her revelation of the stratagem only when she has sufficiently teased her husband.

A common disguise expedient was the costume exchange. For example, a prisoner escapes by exchanging costumes with a visitor who has come to see him. When the ruse is discovered the episode generally ends. This device is frequently used in the commedia delV arte (Creiz. IV, 252). It can be traced back through the Captivi of Plautus as far as the Frogs of Aristophanes, where master and slave exchange costumes. In England a rapid series of costume exchanges characterizes such multi-disguise plays as Look About You.

Thus we see how the disguise motive may become a useful part in the machinery of a plot, and how the machinery is kept in motion as long as the disguise remains an active part. The disguise ceases to be active as soon as it is discovered.

Every writer knows that it is easier to start a plot than to stop it. But the playwright who motivated an entire plot on the disguise of some character had no difficulty; the plot could stop anywhere, and almost every complication could be satisfactorily resolved by merely exposing the disguise. As to the proper ending of a play, dramatists by their practice, and critics by their precept, are not agreed. Price says that the end must be organic, and that "to deviate from the logical result is to -destroy at one blow all unity" (Technique, 109). Professor Brander Matthews, shrewdly observant of what is, as well as what should be, says: "But if an audience has sat for three hours, following with keen enjoyment the successive episodes of a complication between forces evenly balanced, it does not insist upon logic; it is often better pleased to have the knot cut arbitrarily than to be delayed by the process of untying" (Study, 195). The resolution by the disguise motive can satisfy both critics, because the revelation of the identity which we had originally seen concealed is an organic, immediate, and final denouement. The resolution by discovery of identity is absolute, even when the original assumption of disguise was not probable or convincing.

The denouement of a play always tests the skill of a dramatist. We have just said that a disguise denouement can be logical and convincing, for it is simply the removal of the cause which produced the difficulties. However, there are exceptions. Some disguise denouements are crude and ineffective because the writer was in haste, or was not alert to dramatic opportunity. In the Induction of The Shrew, for example, when Sly is victimized by a boy dressed as a girl the whole episode loses point because the disguise is not revealed and Sly does not discover that he is the victim of a practical joke. Another case of ineffective action is the last act of Greene's James IV, where the author deliberately altered the disguise plot of his source and brought the heroine on the stage in her own character instead of in disguise, thus missing an opportunity for the stage business of undisguising and its dramatic effect upon the other characters in the play.

Letting the plot run into a blind alley is still another technical error. In Lyly's Gallathea we have two girls disguised as boys. Each thinks the other really is a boy and falls deeply in love with "him." Obviously the revelation of the two disguises in no way satisfies the love-sick girls. The resolution of this play cannot be organic, and must be effected by some outside agency. Venus steps in and changes one girl into a boy.

These are interesting exceptions. But we find many ingenious and effective resolutions of plot by the discovery of disguise. The simultaneous appearance of doubles at the end of a play was an unusually theatrical means of forcing the revelation of identity. We have a situation of real doubles in such a play as the Comedy of Errors, where the resemblance of the pair is not artificial. But in Twelfth Night there is an artificial resemblance between Viola as page and Sebastian. The dramatic consequence of their simultaneous appearance is the revelation of Viola's artificial likeness. The entry of the doubles upon the scene produces a dramatic pause on a full stage, and while we are amused by the puzzled mien of some of the persons, we watch the expressions of brother and sister growing into recognition.

If the doubles in a play were both disguised like some third person, fictitious or real, their simultaneous appearance served as an exposure of fraud on both sides. Such a situation occurs very effectively at the end of Look About You, 1 where the two men disguised as the " hermit" appear, and each one, while maintaining his own genuineness, accuses the other of being an impostor.

The most subtle doubles situation of all is in Marston's What You Will. A man is impersonating another who is supposedly dead. A rival of this impersonator proposes to disguise a second impersonator like the absent man, and the knowledge of this counterplot leaks out. But this second disguise is never effected, a fact which does not leak out. The consequence is that when the supposedly dead man appears, the counterplotters think he is the first impersonator and the plotters think he is the second impersonator. Presently when the genuine character and his impersonator appear simultaneously, both are considered bogus. Thus the theatrical effect of a stock situation from Plautus was enriched by a slight touch in the spring of action.

Our study of the dramaturgic effect of basic disguises leads us into more and more intricate plots. The most elaborately motivated disguise situation of all is what I term the "retro-disguise." This will be discussed more fully in connection with a number of female page plays. 2 The formula is as follows: First, a girl disguises herself as a boy. Second, somebody who thinks this female page really is a boy dis-

1 The plot of Look About You is summarized in Chapter VI.

2 See Chapter IV, pages, 80-3.

guises "him" as a girl, which constitutes a retro-disguise, or an unconscious restoring of the right appearance and identity. The results during the play are highly involved and the denouement is double in structure. First, a number of victims have to be told that the girl is only a disguised page; then all the persons of the play have to learn that the page, as a matter of fact, is of the female sex, and had originally been in disguise. Such a plot, though intricate, is not too hard to follow when the audience is taken completely into confidence concerning all the action. But when the first disguise is not known by the spectators, but is revealed as a surprise at the end of the play, the plot seems a little too highly involved. An example of retro-disguise combined with surprise is Jonson's New Inn. 3

The surprise motive, which became very popular during the Jacobean drama, is, I believe, an English contribution to the technic of disguise plots. In the conventional disguise plot the character who was to disguise himself always told the audience of his intention, 4 sometimes directly in a monolog, and sometimes in discussion with a confidant. Usually the costume too was specified. Hence the audience not only knew that there was going to be a disguise, but was able to recognize the disguised character immediately upon appearance.

But in the surprise plot the audience was completely deceived and did not know until the end of the play that there had been disguise. In such a plot therefore the action could not be impelled by the disguise motive, for

3 See Chapter IV.

4 Such practice goes back at least as far as Aristophanes. In Acharnians when Dicaeopolis dresses as a beggar he says: "The spectators must know who I am; but the chorus, on the other hand, must stand by like fools, that I may fillip them with quibbles." Hickie, I, 18. See Arnold (56-58) for a discussion of the identification of disguised persons by the use of soliloquies.

that factor did not yet exist as far as the observer was concerned. But incidents had to have dramatic significance. Significance would come, to be sure, by the spectators' discovery of the disguise when the play ended, but during the progress of the play the incidents must not seem devoid of dramatic meaning. Therefore in surprise plots the playwright had to motivate the action by some cause which was independent of the concealed disguise motive. In Epiccene it is the bridegroom's hatred of noise that gives dramatic significance to the career of the boisterous bride. The startling revelation of the bride's sex is unsuspected, because the audience finds the action amusing and complete without seeking further motives. The denouement is a complete surprise.

Whether such surprise is good dramaturgy may be a question of taste. But I think the average spectator would rather be given certain dramatic causes and conflicts with a chance to guess at the probable outcome, than watch the unfolding of a dramatic story which ends with the disconcerting revelation that he had all the way through been ignorant of the cardinal fact in the story. If there is a secret, the spectator wants to be let in, so that he may enjoy the perplexed action of the characters during complications and their amazement when the cause of the complications is revealed. But if the secret is held back, the spectator may feel that he has been victimized as much as the gulls in the play. In Epiccene even Truewit, one of the comic conspirators, is deceived. He has the sympathy of the spectator when he says: "Well, Dauphine, you have lurched your friends of the better half of the garland by concealing this part of the plot." Perhaps this statement really represents a serious query of Jonson himself, who may have doubted the success of his departure from traditional technic in disguise intrigue.

We must remember that the surprise motive is operative only at the first witnessing of the play; and even then some obliging initiate may assume the responsibility of disclosing the secret. 6

A compromise between confided disguise and surprise is employed by Chapman in May Day (see Chapter IV, page 87). By two or three hints he arouses the suspicion of the audience that a certain boy might in reality be a girl. This type of a dimly suspected discovery of disguise would seem to be dramaturgically desirable; but for some reason it did not flourish.

If the dramatist grew tired of conventional disguise in its various functions, or if the retro-disguise and the surprise discovery lost their novelty, he could still amuse his audience with the same kind of complications as from disguise by simply pretending disguise when there was none at all. 6 In Honest Man's Fortune (see Chapter IV, page 97) a credulous character gets the notion that a certain page is a girl in disguise. The page, seeing an opportunity for a joke, says to himself substantially, "Very well, whoop la, I am in disguise," and acts as though he were a female page instead of a mischievous lad. We have already alluded to Marston's effective use of a supposed impersonation in What You Will. 7 The most laughable supposition of all is when the character imagines himself in disguise although there is no change of appearance. This is the situation in Albumazar (see Chapter VIII, page 186), where a farmer is made to believe that he has been magically transformed into another man, and conducts himself accordingly.

In the above paragraphs we have briefly pointed out the

6 This type of disguise is further discussed and illustrated in Chapter IV, pages 84-9, and in Chapter V, pages 114-18.

6 For Italian examples of supposed disguise see Chapter VIII, page 185.

7 See above, page 11.

various structural functions of the disguise motive. It remains for us to point out two or three other qualities which recommend it as a dramatic device.

The dialog of a disguise situation is especially capable of theatrical effectiveness. A disguised character is virtually two persons. One personality is maintained for the companions, who are deceived; and the other personality for the spectators, who are not deceived. This immediately gives an opportunity for double meanings or veiled allusions. Such subtlety of dialog is a valuable element of style, especially in Lyly and Shakespeare. 8 Furthermore, these subtleties are not subtleties of speech merely; they permit pretty shadings in the physical language of pantomime, and are therefore peculiarly important in theatrical art. 9

The dramatic economy of a playwright may be discovered by studying his use of disguise, which is always, even in simple use, an economic motive. By economy we mean getting the maximum dramatic value from every dramatic action. Disguise gives dramatic compactness by compressing two characters into one person. One is the fictitious character, who seems real enough to the people in the play; and the other is the real character, whose presence they do not suspect. The value of such duality may be illustrated by Chapman's Widow's Tears. Chapman found a story containing a dead husband, a widow, and a soldier lover. He made a play out of it by conceiving the husband supposedly dead but really disguised as the soldier lover. Thus he actually eliminated a character, but multiplied the dramatic results.

Dramatic irony is one of the best dramaturgic products of disguise. There is poetic irony in the conception of Viola in love with the duke, yet carrying his love messages

8 See Chapter IV, pages 65-6; 75-8.

9 In surprise plays veiled allusions are naturally impossible.

to Olivia, or in Julia's emotions as she carries her own betrothal ring as a love token to a rival mistress. Comic irony is exhibited in Measure for Measure when the duke, who has been spying, pretends to have returned from abroad, expresses confidence in his notorious deputy, and listens to the deputy's accusations of a certain "friar " (himself in disguise). Other examples of comic irony are Justice Overdo's spying out loose women only to find his wife among them, and Gremio's employing a rival lover, Lucentio, as his love agent. Tragic irony of disguise is illustrated by the death of the disguised lover in / Ieronimo, and in Beaumont and Fletcher's Captain, where a daughter amorously solicits her disguised father. 10