Thomas Middleton and the Plural Politics of Jacobean Drama

Mark Kaethler

• Publisher: Medieval Institute Publications
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781501513992
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Medieval & Early Modern Literary Criticism
• Index: Literature

Thomas Middleton and the Plural Politics of Jacobean Drama represents the first sustained study of Middleton's dramatic works as responses to James I's governance. Through examining Middleton's poiesis in relation to the political theology of Jacobean London, Kaethler explores early forms of free speech, namely parrh?sia, and rhetorical devices, such as irony and allegory, to elucidate the ways in which Middleton's plural art exposes the limitations of the monarch's sovereign image. By drawing upon earlier forms of dramatic intervention, James's writings, and popular literature that blossomed during the Jacobean period, including news pamphlets, the book surveys a selection of Middleton's writings, ranging from his first extant play The Phoenix (1604) to his scandalous finale A Game at Chess (1624). In the course of this investigation, the author identifies that although Middleton's drama spurs political awareness and questions authority, it nevertheless simultaneously promotes alternative structures of power, which manifest as misogyny and white supremacy.

Chapter 1 “He that knows how to obey, knows how to reign”: James as The Phoenix

Introduction

Elizabeth I’s encroaching death spurred anxiety amongst Londoners with the uncertainty of who would assume the throne in her place, so there was considerable relief when James was announced as her successor. This transition was characterized according to the political theology of the era as the continuation of the body politic with a new monarch’s body natural assuming the throne after the queen’s death. The mythical bird of the phoenix commonly represented the transition this year as in previous instances: “In the affairs of the English Church, continuity was equally the order of the day, ‘The Phoenix of her ashes reigns over us’ was the comment of one rising churchman on the new Supreme Governor.”¹ The phoenix emblematizes the everlasting kingdom and its body politic. Royalty are therefore commonly associated with the creature in artistic representations. Elizabeth aligned herself with this creature in her Phoenix Portrait, and James was widely depicted as a phoenix after being announced as England’s new king. This phoenix, however, had a considerable journey from Scotland to make, which was followed by a prolonged bout of plague. The mythical iconography and these circumstances both contribute to Middleton’s play and its titular character. Middleton’s The Phoenix begins with the old Duke reflecting that he has reigned for “[f]orty-five years” (1.7), the exact duration that Elizabeth had ruled as Queen of England. This announcement within the first ten lines of the play therefore immediately establishes that Middleton’s first extant single-authored play preoccupies itself with the new monarch’s politics and the middle point between the rulers. Middleton’s protagonist Phoenix serves as an allegorical representation of the king, for whom the play was initially performed, but also of the monarchy that had come to pass. The play thus establishes a mirror of the times with topical allusions that manifest a didacticism for its audiences at court and for aspiring gentlemen and lawyers in attendance at St. Paul’s, but the drama has been interpreted as both Jacobean propaganda and critical of the newly established monarch’s actions. This chapter locates a middle ground between these scholarly views and in so doing claims that Middleton’s drama unsettles the early image of masculine superiority James promoted in his reprinted tracts, Basilicon Doron (1603) and The True Law of Free Monarchies (1603). The play instead points to work that James had yet to complete, namely his travels through London as part of his coronation celebrations, The Magnificent Entertainment (1604).

The notion that the phoenix reigns over the people lamenting their departed queen is therefore fitting, as the city had yet to celebrate their new monarch. The play has not commonly been read in connection with these ceremonies, though, so this chapter first substantiates recent suggestions that 1604 was the year in which the play was first performed. The play’s preoccupation with a disguised ruler’s navigation of his polis concerns this real journey that James would soon take and to which Middleton contributed a speech. The contractual nature of both this speech and the play that preceded it is influenced by Richard Martin’s own speech welcoming James into London as king. Martin’s parrhēsiastic contract praises the monarch while reminding him of his obligation and sets the stage for ideal governance as mutually constituted with, rather than imposed upon, citizens. Theater frames this fluid vision and dependent bond more indirectly, but nevertheless in a vein of political performance spanning the course of the early modern era. This historical backdrop establishes an interpretive framework for the monarch: James is encouraged to wrestle with the issues presented to him – which echo topical matters in his first year as king – and to enact contractual governance – as he would also be encouraged to do when he embarked on his progress through the city. These coronation celebrations establish a camera regis in which London is personified as a bride newly married to James and represents the king’s bedchamber, symbolizing a union and power relation between city and monarch. Drama from this transitional period is regularly preoccupied with similar allegories. As Julia Reinhard Lupton elucidates, Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, which borrows from Middleton’s play, represents the city through Isabella.² Performed before Shakespeare’s play, The Phoenix offers some initial influences for this gendered allegory with the figure of the Jeweller’s Wife, whose parrhēsia Phoenix cannot readily dismiss. The gendered politics of the play thus remind the ruler of his limited capacity, which is why its indications of James’s fallibility are especially poignant. In both The Phoenix and The Magnificent Entertainment, Middleton dismantles James’s image as dominant and almighty masculine authority through renegotiating the terms of the city’s union with him to establish a reciprocal bond.

James’s diminished authority results as well from the material circumstances of the drama. Middleton’s The Phoenix is one of the plays he wrote for the later reassembled boy company of St. Paul’s, but what differentiates Middleton’s political allegory from his other plays for these actors is that James is rendered into a young man. As aforementioned, James presented himself as engaged with and interested in literary dialogue, so the notion of him as a novice learning of his kingdom and engaging in a dialogic literary work would not be presumptuous on Middleton’s part. Middleton’s lessons address these opera basilica, which point to matters that linger and thereby signal the state’s perpetual renovation. This fluidity takes material shape in the boy actor’s body, which corresponds with the mythological bird that informs the play’s political theology. By having a boy actor play Phoenix – the allegorical representation of James – Middleton stages the adult monarch as younger, metaphorically addressing the infancy of his reign in England. However, Middleton is also careful to praise Phoenix (and therefore James) for his wisdom. This chapter therefore posits that Middleton both questions and upholds James’s abilities as a ruler, perceiving him as fit to reign while reminding him that he has not been infallible, even early on in his reign. The myth of the phoenix and its connection to the king’s body natural and body politic accentuate his shared humanity and fallen state, indicating a fluid embodiment of sovereignty that destabilizes James’s intransigent masculinity and situates him in dialogue with other members of the body politic as a limited governor.

From Tudor Ashes and Parrhēsia’s Flame

Scholars hypothesize that The Phoenix may have been performed at some point between March 24, 1603, when James assumed the throne, and 1604, when the theaters reopened after a prolonged outbreak of plague. However, James Leeds Barroll’s historical documentation and evidence concerning the 1603–1604 plague period indicates only brief windows – between April 28, 1603 and May 5, 1603 or between May 9, 1603 and May 19, 1603 – during which The Phoenix could have been performed before the theaters fully closed.³ Middleton’s reference to “the plague that never leaves the city” makes it even less likely that The Phoenix was performed during these intervals, as the line suggests that the plague had already lasted for some time (15.231). A likely topical reference Middleton makes to “the Turk” as an “Infidel” near the end of the play contributes as well to this timeline (15.252, 253). Given that the play was performed for James, this late mention in the play likely refers to the king’s line of verse “cruell Turkes and Infidels” in his poem Lepanto.⁴ Like Basilicon Doron and The True Law of Free Monarchies, Lepanto was another Scottish text reprinted for English book buyers “[w]ithin three weeks” of Basilicon Doron’s March 1603 release date.⁵ Although “Turks” are regularly referred to as infidels in early modern literature,⁶ the use of this phrase with a court performance in mind likely caters to James, especially given that “Turks” are not mentioned until this concluding scene. The ability to cater to the monarch’s interests, especially in the concluding scene, makes it likely that Middleton had read Lepanto in preparation for The Phoenix, and its print date would have given him insufficient time for a performance before the full outbreak of plague occurred. Basing the play’s date upon Lepanto alone, however, remains tenuous given the unfortunate ubiquity of this white supremacist association, indicating that more evidence is required in order to situate the play in relation to James’s accession. Looking to other disguised-duke narratives offers further answers. John Marston’s The Malcontent (1603) was most likely performed in 1603 and printed in 1604.⁷ At the beginning of act 2, scene 3, Pietro observes: “The night growes deepe and fowle.”⁸ This same line appears interrupted in The Phoenix. Near the end of Phoenix and Quieto’s meeting, Phoenix begins to say, “The night grows deep, and – ” before he is cut off by two Officers who enter the scene (12.203). I have been unable to locate another concatenation of these words in Early English Books Online (EEBO) and therefore conclude that Middleton gained inspiration to write The Phoenix from seeing Marston’s The Malcontent in 1603 before the theaters closed or somehow gaining access to a manuscript copy, and that he reproduced this line, consciously or not, from memory.⁹

Another text or oration offers further confirmation for a later date of composition and performance. Master Richard Martin’s A Speech Delivered to the King, performed upon James’s arrival to London in 1603, contains language extremely reminiscent of The Phoenix. There was clearly interest from dramatists in this event. Middleton’s collaborator Thomas Dekker had written a pageant for James’s entry into the city that was unfortunately not performed as initially planned,¹⁰ so it is very likely that both dramatists were in attendance or aware of what was spoken. The printed record offers several correspondences with Middleton’s play. There is the common association of James with the phoenix who rises “Out of the Ashes,”¹¹ but there are also references to “Vnconcionable Lawiers, and greedie officers … no longer spinn[ing] out the poore mans cause … and the delay of iustice,” which correspond with Falso and Tangle; the fact that “No more shall bribes blinde the eyes of the wife,”¹² which speaks to the Jeweller’s Wife’s affair with the Knight; and the mention of ports and sea ventures “shall now” wash “away our reproach of vniuersall pirats and sea-wolues,” which connects with the play’s portrayal of a deplorable Captain.¹³ Even after setting aside the recurring analogy of James to a phoenix, then, Middleton’s play takes inspiration for multiple plotlines from Martin’s speech and sets these actions to life onstage. These various details indicate that The Phoenix is written for performance after James’s accession and likely composed during the time in which the playhouses were closed.¹⁴ This chapter therefore positions The Phoenix historically as a play that was first performed before James at court in the winter of 1604 and later in the year at St. Paul’s for theatergoers.

This dating is in keeping with E. K. Chambers’s suggested court performance of February 20, 1604, which he based on the title page’s indication that the play was staged before James, and the corresponding moments in the records at which a performance at court might have occurred.¹⁵ Chambers substantiates his historical inquiry with a letter by Philip Gawdy dated February 20, 1604, in which Gawdy writes: “Ther hath bene ij playes this shroftyde before the king and ther shall be an other to morrow.”¹⁶ Lawrence Danson and Ivo Kamps have supported Chambers’s groundwork with reference to Gawdy’s records and to Chambers’s reference to payment made to Edward Pearce, who was master of the children of Paul’s. Based upon these details, they surmise that “it is reasonable to conclude that one of the plays referred to by Gawdy is the same for which the Paul’s Boys were paid on 20 February 1604; and, if the title-page of the 1607 quarto speaks true, that play was The Phoenix.”¹⁷ The supposition is based upon the quarto text of The Phoenix, first printed in 1607 with a title page stating that the play “hath beene sundry times Acted by the Children of Paules, And presented before his Maiestie.”¹⁸ Although there is no unequivocal extant evidence to establish that the play was definitely performed before James at court, it remains highly probable, especially given Thomas Pendleton’s account of the title pages of Paul’s ch...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction: Thomas Middleton’s Plural Politics
• Chapter 1 “He that knows how to obey, knows how to reign”: James as The Phoenix
• Chapter 2 “And in all times, may this day ever prove / A day of triumph, joy and honest love”? The Witch and the Overbury Trials
• Chapter 3 “Two ways at once”: The World Tossed at Tennis and the Thirty Years War
• Chapter 4 “If this be virtue’s path, ’tis a strange one”: A Game at Chess’s Competing Histories
• Conclusion: “Use but your royal hand”
• Index