The Moral Stage?

Inhalt

Introduction

1. Aesthetic Preliminaries: The ‘Induction on the Stage’

2. The ‘Soulless Fair’: Jonson’s Analysis of the Human Condition

3. Stairway to Salvation? - Three Moral Case Studies
3.1. Quarlous: Pragmatic Reason
3.2. Overdo: Philanthropic Naïveté
3.3. Busy: Religious Hypocrisy

Conclusion: Towards Redemption?

Bibliography

Introduction

In the course of this essay, I shall focus upon Ben Jonson’s complex relation to questions of theatricality, aesthetic judgment and the ethical value of dramatic production as expressed in his later prose-comedy Bartholomew Fair (1614).^[1] By way of a close reading of the most relevant passages of the play, I will try to provide a detailed investigation into his moral criticism of contemporary society, his conception of theatricality as a vehicle for moral education, and the role of distanced intellectual judgment as a crucial factor in this process.

My interpretation shall be centered around three major issues: In the first chapter, I will scrutinize Jonson’s concept of an ideal audience response and his insistence on intellectual engagement by a close analysis of his ‘Induction on the Stage’. My aim here is to point out the aesthetic prerequirements Jonson deems necessary for understanding his play. In the second chapter, I shall turn to the comedy itself and investigate Jonson’s treatment of the ‘Fair’ as a key motive for depicting the overall moral condition of humanity. Chapter 3 shall be devoted to the interpretation of three particular characters (Quarlous, Overdo, Busy) who remain de- tached from this scheme and thus constitute exceptional cases of (im)moral behavior. My aim here is to show, in how far their claim to moral superiority is undermined by the transfor- mations they undergo throughout the play. Finally, I will analyze the uneasy tension between moral criticism and dramatic reconciliation as it becomes apparent at the end and emphasize again the morally educative potential of theater for the audience.

1. Aesthetic Preliminaries: The ‘Induction on the Stage’

Jonson designed two independent metatheatrical openings for his drama, the ‘Induction on the Stage’ as well as a ‘Prologue to the King’s Majesty’. Both could be applied alternatively, depending on the context of the performance.^[2] However, it is only in the ‘Induction’ that Jonson explores the problematic aspects of theatrical representation and aesthetic judgment in full extent. Since these issues are presented in the form of requirements necessary for a proper aesthetic appreciation of Jonson’s theatre, the ‘Induction’ can well be understood as establishing the basic “thematic parameters”^[3] of the ensuing comedy.

The first possible irritation Jonson seeks to eliminate is the idea of a fundamental difference between reality and its artistic depiction. The ‘Induction’ features an ignorant Stage- Keeper who, incapable of comprehending the basic heterogeneity of life and art, prefers real fairs to those displayed on stage. He complains about the inauthenticity of Bartholomew Fair, Jonson’s artistic invention: “These master-poets, they will ha’ their own absurd courses; they will be informed of nothing!” (Induction, 24 f.). By favoring the crude, mindless enter- tainment offered at real fairgrounds over the aesthetic experience of a work of art, the Stage- Keeper just fails to recognize the essential discrepancy between the two spheres: While real fairs are nothing but fairs, Jonson’s Fair functions as part of a larger artistic construction, which - apart from its entertainment value - aims at reasonable ‘enlightenment’ and moral instruction. The theatrical depiction of the Fair appeals not so much to our desire for fair pleasures, but rather to our cognitive faculties, from which it demands an appropriate reflective distance and the capacity for critical judgment - a “disengaged intellectual consideration of the performance as performance”.^[4] With the Stage-Keeper’s naïve monologue, Jonson ironically draws attention to the fact that, as a work of art, Bartholomew Fair has to be understood and evaluated on its own (aesthetic) premises.

The other issues raised in the ‘Induction’ appear as part of a mock-serious contract between spectators and playwright, which contains a number of so-called ‘articles of agree- ment’. In one of them, the author promises “to delight all, and to offend none; provided they have either the wit or the honesty to think well of themselves” (Induction, 75 ff.). Whereas ‘honesty’ in this case might be taken to refer to those individuals who actually intend to engage in critical reflection with the ensuing drama (and thus constitute part of Jonson’s ideal audience), ‘wit’ probably points to the faction of spectators who merely gathered for the sake of dull amusement. The intention of this double-faced remark might be that both groups will enjoy the play, but only those who can honestly approve of their critical attitude do so for the right reasons. Critical involvement, after all, does not exclude aesthetic pleasure - on the contrary, real appreciation and enjoyment of art (which entails appreciation of its educative potential) is only possible by means of intellectual engagement.

Nevertheless, Jonson also seems concerned about the dangers of excessive overinterpre- tation. Thus, the contract goes on to ridicule any attempt to seriously “search out who was meant by the Gingerbread-Woman, who by the Hobby-horse-man […], what great Mirror of Magistrates is meant by the Justice, what great lady the pig-woman, what concealed statesman by the seller of mousetraps, and so of the rest” (Induction, 124 ff.). By doing so, the author obviously wishes to evade the charge of directing his satirical jokes at particular, recognizable members of contemporary London society. Still, on a more profound level, it seems as if Jonson wishes the audience not to misunderstand his comedy as clinging too tightly to real-life circumstances. As products of an artistic imagination, the dramatis person æ always retain a final degree of autonomy - they remain infinitely more complex, meaningful and open to interpretation than those spectators assume, who try to exhaust their significance by categori- zing them in one way or another. Thus, Jonson arrives at a more elaborate specification of his former demand for intellectual engagement: The adequate appreciation and interpretation of a work of art goes beyond a merely sterile application of prefabricated, ready-made concepts - it is to be a creative, dynamic response to the challenge posed on stage.

Just as the previous ‘article’ helps to sophisticate Jonson’s former invitation to exercise intellectual judgment, his following remark serves as a critical reconsideration of the complex relation between reality and art. Here, the playwright defends his comedy against the possible charge of “scurrility” and “profaneness” (Induction, 134 ff.). Whereas his earlier reflections emphasized the essential difference between both spheres (in order to refute accusations of inauthenticity), Jonson now tends to realign real fair-life and its theatrical representation to some degree (in order to refute accusations of inappropriate vulgarity). Reality and art, he seems to argue, have to be understood and evaluated as separate entities, even though representation, in order to remain credible and verisimilar, is sometimes forced to include trivial, vulgar and profane elements. This justification gains even more significance if we consider that throughout Jonson’s career, the historical and geographical accurateness of artistic depiction remained one of his most important stylistic principles.^[5]

This insistence on sober, naturalistic portrayal (though not to be confused with reality itself) leads Jonson to yet another invective, this time directed at certain types of outdated drama. Most notably, Jonson justifies his own aesthetic preferences against the free-wheeling inventiveness of an escapist, dream-like imagination as apparent in the late romances of William Shakespeare: “If there be never a servant-monster i’ the Fair, who can help it? he says; nor a nest of antics? He is loth to make nature afraid in his plays, like those that beget Tales, Tempests, and such like drolleries” (Induction, 114 ff.; emphasis in the original).^[6] By defending his theatrical methods against possible misunderstandings from both sides (either from those who long for simple realism unsubdued to the transformative powers of artistic cre]ativity, or from those who desire a product of mere imagination, detached from all elements of reality), Jonson manages to define his status as a playwright precisely: Bartholomew Fair is shaped according to the aesthetic guidelines of an “artful realism”^[7] and the ‘Induction’ does nothing less than to prepare the contemporary audience for this innovative type of aesthetic experience.

Finally, Jonson turns to the problematic issue of aesthetic appreciation in the broader context of an uprising market economy. The contract states that every spectator is allowed to exercise judgment according “to the value of his place […]. And if he pay for half a dozen, he may censure for all them too, so that he will undertake that they shall be silent” (Induction, 81 ff.). This remark seems somewhat problematic, since it does not become very obvious whether Jonson here in fact “ruefully […] acknowledges the power of market forces over theatrical success”^[8], or whether his equation of commercial wealth and judgmental capacity rather serves as an ironic reflection of capitalist attitudes. In my opinion, his statement can well be understood as a reflection of the contemporary power-shift from state authorities to market forces and business, but still it does so by means of a critical reaction. By cynically referring to the omnipresent capitalist structures, Jonson might want to draw our attention to art as a unique resort, an autonomous sphere where market rules simply fail to apply: the proper aesthetic judgment as such is per definitionem independent of commercial values, it cannot be altered by social or economic interests. Admittedly, such structures constitute the framework into which every work of art is necessarily embedded, but, as Jonson argues, they should not interfere with the individual intellectual appreciation of any performance given on stage.^[9]

As we can see from the preceding analysis, Jonson’s ‘Induction’ to Bartholomew Fair can be understood as a preliminary, didactic attempt to adjust and educate his audience’s mode of reception in order to enable them to exercise an aesthetic and moral judgment based on critical reflection rather than immediate experience. By emphasizing the crucial role of the understanding, Jonson reveals part of his intellectual background: He clearly belongs to the classical-humanist tradition^[10], according to which true knowledge and insight is only to be gained through the faculty of intellect, whereas sense experience, on the contrary, is usually dismissed as an inferior and distorted type of knowledge. - The fundamental importance of Jonson’s insistence on critical evaluation and reasoned judgment becomes more obvious as soon as we turn to the play itself.

2. The ‘Soulless Fair’: Jonson’s Analysis of the Human Condition

Among the many structural features that shape and define Bartholomew Fair, one of the most obvious is the significant ‘gap’ between the first and the subsequent four Acts (whichportray the world of the Fair in its dazzling, intriguing complexity).

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^[1] Ben Jonson: Bartholomew Fair, in: M. Jamieson (ed.): Ben Jonson: Three Comedies (London: 1985), pp. 325 - 460. Throughout the essay, references to Jonson’s play are given in parenthesis within the text.

^[2] The ‘Induction’ was used for the first public performance at the Hope Theatre, Bankside, London (31st October 1614), the ‘Prologue’ for the subsequent performance at the Court of King James I. the following day.

^[3] Richard A. Cave: Ben Jonson (New York: 1991), p. 100

^[4] Suzanne Gossett (ed.): “Introduction” to Ben Jonson: Bartholomew Fair (Manchester/New York: 2000), p. 2; cf. also Richard Dutton: Ben Jonson. To the First Folio (Cambridge: 1983), p. 159. - Apart from the ‘Induction’, the play itself employs a number of self-reflective devices in order to point again to the artificial nature of the perfor- mance - for example, when Proctor John Littlewit, pondering over the date of the Fair, cheerfully exclaims: “Barthol'mew upon Barthol'mew! There's the device! Who would have marked such a leap-frog chance now?” (I, i, 7). In the context of Bartholomew Fair, these devices serve as reminders for the spectator in order to test if his individual mode of perception actually conforms to the standards which are necessary to understand the play in its full significance.

^[5] Cf. Jonas Barish: “Jonson and the Loathèd Stage”, in: The Antitheatrical Prejudice (Berkeley: 1981), p. 142. In his masque Mercury Vindicated from the Alchemists at Court, Jonson similarly criticizes the pretence of artists who aspire to create a second, artificial nature more impressive than reality. Instead, he insists on a meticulous “adherence to the natural” as a guideline for artistic creation (Barish, p. 142).

^[6] The italicized allusions refer to Shakespeare’s The Tempest and The Winter's Tale (both 1611), as does Jonson’s remark about the ‘servant-monster’ (Caliban).

^[7] Dutton, p. 162

^[8] Gossett, p. 2

^[9] In opposition to my view, most commentators understand this article as proof for Jonson’s growing distrust in the integrity of individual aesthetic judgment and as an (at least temporary) commitment to the all-encompassing rule of capitalist structures: Cf., for example, Gossett, p. 2; Cave, p. 99; Dutton, p. 159 as well as Peter Womack: Ben Jonson (Oxford: 1986), p. 161.

^[10] Cf. Barish, p. 143