The five plays in this collection represent the complexity of Jonson's art as a playwright. 'Every Man In His Humor', represents the high point of the 'humors' comedy with which Jonson is always associated. 'Sejanus', is an experiment in tragedy on classical principles. 'Volpone' and 'The Alchemist' are Jonsons most distinctive comedies set among a world of rogues and dissemblers. 'Bartholomew Fair' is more tolerant of human weakness as it is more relaxed in form, and is now perhaps the most attractive of Jonson's plays.
Benjamin Jonson was an English Renaissance dramatist, poet and actor. A contemporary of William Shakespeare, he is best known for his satirical plays, particularly Volpone, The Alchemist, and Bartholomew Fair, which are considered his best, and his lyric poems. A man of vast reading and a seemingly insatiable appetite for controversy, Jonson had an unparalleled breadth of influence on Jacobean and Caroline playwrights and poets. A house in Dulwich College is named after him.
I'll review each of these separately as I read them (or get around to it) rather than waiting until I've finished all five and probably re-blog the post each time I add to it.
Every Man in his Humour
I ended up reading this twice because of inattention early on which led to me losing the plot entirely... There's a certain amount of wit and playfulness in the language of this early comedy from Jonson and an Elizabethan favourite of stage comedy, characters in disguise and identity confusion but it's not all that funny on the page. Plainly some inventive visual/physical comedy would be required to make it work in the theatre but even then I can't rate it as anything other than a match for one of Shakespeare's weakest comedic efforts.
Sejanus, His Fall
Tragedy in the vein of Richard III or Tamburlaine the Great i.e. the protagonist is an evil git from the outset and you know it's going to end badly for him from page 1. I found this play tedious. The language was unexciting, as was the plot and I didn't feel that it offered any great insight into the mind or motivations of Sejanus either. Thus far I'd rate everyElizabethean or Jacobean playwright I've come across as better than Jonson - but these are early plays and perhaps his most famous work, Volpone, is next up. I'm hoping for better there.
Volpone
Ah ha! This is why Jonson has a decent reputation! Volpone is a rich bloke in Venice and on his deathbed - except he's faking it, whilst various acquaintances try to ingratiate themselves with expensive gifts in the hope of being named as beneficiary in Volpone's will. Volpone is aided in his scheme by his "parasite", Mosca, who deftly manipulates all around him...and that's how things stand at the beginning of this deft comedy which explores morality, trickery and motivation through increasingly complex shenanigans and unexpected twists of plot that lead me a merry chase.
The writing is much better here than in either of the predecessors in this volume in just about any way I look at it. Interesting, even gripping by the end, plotting - I really wanted to know how the admittedly guessable resolution would actually be achieved. Effective comedy throughout (Sejanus isn't a comedy, however) much of which could be greatly enhanced on stage in an inventive production. Better characterisation and something I really liked, clever manipulation of my sympathies.
Examining some of these in more detail:
The plotting of this play takes an abrupt turn away from the predictable and gets increasingly complicated in a manner that reminds me of the Restoration Comedy of folks like Richard Brinsley Sheriden that was to come later. It's concern with cuckoldry brought to mind Moliere who also wasn't yet born when Volpone was first performed but, oddly, it also foreshadows Jacobean Revenge Tragedy in it's climax and resolution.
Initially, I was sympathetic towards Volpone, surrounded as he is by insincere flatterers, intent only on trying to benefit from his death. His trick of feigning terminal illness seemed fairly just. As the play progresses, though, Volpone is revealed as someone who revels in trickery for its own sake and as a method of obtaining whatever he wants, regardless of its morality (or lack there-of) and sympathy shifts to a couple of innocents caught up in the general scheming and perfidy of all and sundry. A neat trick by the author, in a play full of tricks, I thought.
This is the earliest use of Dickensian character naming that I can recall off-hand, though it's done in Latin: for example, Volpone (Fox) and Voltore (Vulture). The persons of the play are largely caricatures rather than really rounded people but that suits Jonson's purposes, I think, and makes them more interesting than everybody in both the earlier plays in this volume.
There's a lot of wit on display but as the names of the characters exemplify, much of it is quite erudite - and not just in the way that topical jokes that are four hundred years old are obscure or the way that puns can become unrecognisable without help because of changes in the language over the same length of time. No, Jonson makes jokes about people quoting and mis-quoting Classical Greek and Roman poets and philosophers and such like that must have been obscure to most of a contemporary audience.
Elizabethan theatre was very similar to current Hollywood; it would have rapidly gone bankrupt if it had not appealed to a mass audience from all strata of society - and back then very few had any education to speak of, let alone a grasp of the Classics good enough to know when a character is mis-quoting or mis-attributing a quote. One of the differences between plays then and films now is that authors tried much harder to appeal to everybody with every work. No separate art-houses and multiplexes then, though there were royal command performances sometimes. This makes me wonder whether Shkespeare's "Small Latin and less Greeke" as Jonson claimed, was not a factor in his greater popularity; jokes that have to be explained just aren't funny and hardly anybody was going to get all these references to Pythagoras and co.
So, perhaps less readily accessible than Shakespeare and not nearly as spectacular in his use of imagery and poetry but still this goes to the top of my favourites list of plays from the period, not by the Bard himself - and better than Will's worst efforts by some distance.
The Alchemist
This plays shares a number of themes - trickery, deception, greed - with Volpone. Unfortunately it lacks the wit and humour and was a dull slog for the first three Acts. The obscure alchemical and other references made it a particular chore. It, also like Volpone, had Dickensian character names, which has me beginning to wonder why they aren't referred to as "Jonsonian" names, since he wrote two centuries prior...this time the names are English, not Latin, however.
The action and plotting is very slow initially but (as with many five Act comedies) picks up a great deal in Acts IV and V and the alchemical jargon is dropped as the schemers' plans begin to unravel. There is still very little humour, however - some irony in the plotting is the sum total. I think even in production this would be a bit of a struggle to sit through until after the interval between Acts III and IV.
Volpone remains the stand-out work so-far, with only Bartholomew Fair to go.
Bartholomew Fair
Typically Jonsonian (at least as defined by the plays in this volume) in its focus on more "ordinary" members of society rather than the high-born, royal or historically famous characters that frequent most of Shakespeare's output (even of comedies). Also the Dickensian character names and the type of trickery and deception also seen in Volpone and The Alchemist, although for the most part the shenanigans here are much more light-hearted, less malicious and with the kind of wave-a-magic-wand last couple of scenes plot resolution you get in, say, As You Like It. And people in disguises! This era of theatre was obsessed with folks dressing up and pretending to be other folks, as far as I can tell.
It's obvious that this play would gain an enormous amount from production as much of the "plot", which is a huge pile of silliness upon silliness, calls for considerable physical action, though not of the "alarums and excursions" kind often called for by Shakespeare but off the page, Volpone is easily my favourite out of the five plays in this volume - and probably Jonson's most famous work, too.
I'm not in a massive hurry to read more Jonson. I'd rather finish up the complete works of Shakespeare and read more by their other contemporaries and near contemporaries but if I did go back to Jonson, I think I'd look for things from the latter half of his career as the later plays in this volume are clearly superior to the earliest two. This obvious improvement with age and practice is evident in Shakespeare, too, I think. I'd pay to watch any of the latter three in this collection, go out of my way to see Volpone, which is the only one that comes close to being on a level with a good Shakespeare comedy.
Jonson was a contemporary of Shakespeare and hence writes using some of the same expressions and style, but he, like Marlowe, will never be confused with Shakespeare. It's unfortunate that we can't read him without reference to Shakespeare, because I think in any other era Jonson would be considered a good writer in his own right.
***Every Man in His Humour*** Those who have read Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor will be amused to see the inspiration for that play in this Jonson play, in which Shakespeare apparently played the role of Old Knowell.
While Shakespeare tends to make the world his stage, Jonson is quite content to focus on London and its characters and such a focus offers its own lessons.
"You have an excellent good leg, Master Stephen, but I cannot stay to praise it longer now, and I am very sorry for it." (I.iii.40-41)
(Justice Clement) "Your cares are nothing! They are like my cap, soon put on and as soon put off." (IV.ii.72-73)
***Sejanus His Fall*** This cautionary tale is, in a way, Jonson's Coriolanus, but without the ending in which society learns something for its betterment. The fickleness of a crowd can just as easily and quickly destroy a person it has raised up to rule it. That said, Coriolanus is a lot less deserving of the people's hate than Sejanus is, so Sejanus' comeuppance is more satisfying.
"Adultery? it is the lightest ill, I will commit. A race of wicked acts Shall flow out of my anger..." II.150-152
***Volpone*** Volpone is the original "con man" play and in Jonson's moral universe everyone gets what he/she deserves in the end. A bit long and uneven, but quite a fun read nevertheless.
"Sir, to a wise man, all the world's his soil." II.i.1
"Before, I feigned diseases, now I have one." III.iv.62
"My Madam, with the everlasting voice... All my house, But now, steamed like a bath, with her thick breath." III.v.4-8
"Honour? Tut, a breath; There's no such thing in nature: a mere term Invented to awe fools." III.vii.38-40
"Are heaven and saints then nothing? Will they be blind, or stupid?" III.vii.53
"'If you have conscience—' ''Tis the beggar's virtue,'" III.vii.209-210
"Let's die like Romans Since we have lived like Grecians." III.viii.14
"Sir, I will sit down, And rather wish my innocence should suffer Than I resist the authority of a father." IV.v. 113-114
"Creeping, with house, on back: and think it well, To shrink my poor head in my politic shell." V.v.88-89
"If this be held the high way to get riches, May I be poor." V.xii.99
***The Alchemist*** The Alchemist reminds us that the "something for nothing" culture is not something that popped up in Wall Street in the 1920s, but is an unfortunate aspect of the human condition, most frequently seen these days in the mendacious term "passive income."
Jonson also features a rather strong (but warranted) send-up of the boring old Puritans.
If you derive your primary pleasure in play-reading from form and construction, The Alchemist will please you. If you are looking for mellifluous language, this is not the place to look.
***Bartholomew Fair*** Perhaps the most scatalogically-focused of Jonson's plays I have read, Bartholomew Fair is not a good place for new readers for Jonson to start. It's a bit more freewheeling and relaxed in its frame and structure, and you will struggle to cruise to that moral ending he is so known for in his plays. Instead we get a loose moral of: don't be so focused on justice. The ending is rushed and while the characters have some depth, none are particularly lovable or enjoyable.
"I will be more tender hereafter. I see compassion may become a Justice, though it be a weakness..." IV.i.72-73
"Humors" which the Renaissance inherited from Galen are almost modern, endocrine functions. Jonson's Every Man in His Humor, and his later Every Man Out of, feature moral qualities like Envy or Vain Self-promotion (say, 2015 US presidential candidates) as dominant traits/ humors along with the Galenic four: melancholy, sanguine, choler, and phlegmatic. Sanguine tends to be robust, rosy cheeked and optimistic (now, Govt hires to discuss the economy); melancholy, the opposite, even disturbed (a thick book by Burton analyzes depression, sex, eating and more) like Hamlet; choler, quick to anger, dominates both Katherine the Shrew and her suitor Petruchio; phlegmatic has been paraphrased in the US race as "low energy." Downright, in In, is plain-spoken as an American radio host or politician. Jonson includes Plautus's character types as humors, like the cocktail-hour dependent Parasite or the Braggart Soldier (a problem in Rome, Elizabethan England, and 2015 US News commentary). Of course, Shakespeare began writing comedies by stealing from Plautus's Errors-Menaechmus twins (and another, his Amphitruo, I think, though maybe Euthyphro, too). Should I plague you readers with the pulse in Ibn Sina (Avicenna) which I translated from medieval Latin MS reprint? If only I could recall my 1990's paper from Kalamazoo-zoo-zoo (I've got a gal in…or not).
Look, there is something to be said for Johnson, especially in his metatextual play in The Alchemist's introduction, and the hilarious contract in the introduction to Bartholomew Fair, but the plays themselves are shallow at best. They are a mess of silly things that go beyond mere silliness, but honestly not much further. Jonson has no interest in exploring human characters, and is more content with a modified version of morality tales, where people are a certain set of characteristics, for reasons no one will ever know, they never change, and they simply act out their little parts in silly manners. It has its place, but I find it uninteresting, and his messy plots are confusing for the sake of confusion (exception: Volpone is quite easy, and the most Shakespearean feeling along those lines).
To a degree, Jonson is more complicated than his contemporaries (Marlowe and Shakespeare), but mostly he is less interesting and less developed, if more interested in the actual textual document of the plays (he was in charge of printing his plays, and took very special care with them, especially with the metatextual moments).
It's instructive to compare the "get thee to a nunnery" scene in 'Hamlet' with the scenes in 'Volpone' where Corvino threatens Celia. The scene in 'Hamlet' is terrible and necessary because it demonstrates how far a human being can be pushed from his normal behavior and the consequences for those around him. It ‘works’ because we can sympathize with both characters in the situation while in no way condoning Hamlet’s behavior.
Corvino’s speeches to Celia are full of threats of the most brutally excessive, sexualized, violence. The excess serves no dramatic purpose. There is nothing about Corvino which invites our interest or sympathy: he is a two dimensional character who is vicious, greedy and stupid. Jonson’s art does not allow him to show how a man might become like this or to cause us to stop and think how we might. He has threatened to disfigure and torture his wife because she appeared at a window, ruining his reputation (2.5) and then threatens her with equally excessive violence because she will ruin his reputation by not allowing him to prostitute her for what the audience knows is a silly trick played on a stupid man (3.7). Sympathy, dramatically, is with Celia, because of the situation she is in. The threats are therefore unnecessary. There’s also an excess to the threats, a sense that the audience is being asked to enjoy them for their own sake. This is ugly. It does nothing to contribute to our sympathy for Celia nor our condemnation of Corvino. They are ugly failures of craft. One of the many answers to the initial question.