The Duchess of Malfi
The Duchess of Malfi: Guilty of Innocence
The marriage ceremony in Act One of The Duchess of Malfi is interpreted by James Calderwood as “an infringement of the rigidly established social order (of the day), and is ultimately an attack on the cosmological order.”[1] This strongly implies that such a “reversal of order”[2] is dangerous. Yet Calderwood’s serious assertion begs an obvious question. If The Duchess had understood that her actions were hazardous to the extent that she risked being eventually strangled to death, with her husband and children murdered in cold blood, would she still have gone through with it? The Duchess’ motivation, then, for such a reckless act- “a dangerous venture”, in her own words- is difficult to fathom. She is an intelligent, astute woman, fully aware of the importance of political hierarchies and social degree. She is politically experienced and understands the expectations of the patriarchal society that she herself has benefitted from. She is “apprehending danger” (1,2,260)m as she is watched closely by two Machiavellian brothers who are determined to keep her celibate and marketable. What would lead her to embark on a potentially fatal course of action? What prompts her to go into a “wilderness… where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue to be my guide?” (1,2,274/5)
“internal necessity”
One view is that she simply could not deny her true nature. Susan Baker argues that she is a “static protagonist”;that is, one “absolutely bound to a deeply rooted internal necessity which is non-negotiable”[3] Seemingly, her emotional instincts are so powerful that they cannot be resisted, let alone questioned. In this regard, “we (in the audience) are not obligated to establish motives for this act, only to recognise its centrality”[4]. But this seems wholly unsatisfactory. Baker’s identification of an unidentified “internal necessity” implies at best a conscious abrogation of duty; at worst, poor emotional control, political naivety, and serious lack of judgement. Yet there is nothing to suggest that the widowed Duchess has ever displayed anything other than effective leadership; while Antonio is hardly objective, his claim that “her days are practised in noble virtue” (1,2,119) seems to be empirically sound.
Reputation
Despite having established her impeccable reputation, Webster hints that The Duchess is not above an emotional reaction. It seems that she has been pushed to breaking point even though her weary response (“shall this move me?”) (1,2,256) suggests that her brothers’ co-ordinated, unreasonable bluster is nothing new. But she is proud and confident. Having been widowed, she has become successfully independent. She believes that she is both ready to remarry and strong enough to resist her brothers’ demands. However, she is a ruler, with far-reaching responsibilities. Her confidence becomes dangerous. By marrying a man of lower social standing, she “displays a disrespect for social realities”[5] and “…overturning a social code, she defies the responsibilities of degree by marrying beneath her”[6]. As if accepting her vulnerability, she automatically reverts to subterfuge, recognising how dangerous and politically inappropriate her action will seem. Ever practical, her maid, Cariola, is horrified by The Duchess’ decision and seems to realise its significance more realistically then her mistress:
“I’ll conceal this secret from the world
As warily as those that trade in poison
Keep poison from their children.” (1,2,266-8)
It seems that she devises her covert ceremony almost to spite her brothers. Calderwood damns this as “impetuosity”[7] She is aware that her plans represent “impossible actions” (1,2,261), foreshadowing her own fate. Her reassurance that “time will easily scatter the tempest” (1,2,381) is an unconvincing response to Antonio’s well-grounded and pragmatic concerns. Her optimism proves to be tragically misguided.
Family Control
Initially, behind The Duchess’ brothers’ insistence upon her staying single seems to be a recognition of the imperative to maintain social respectability and future potential marketability as a wife. The shrewd Duchess is aware that subtlety is required. To preserve and maintain the agency she feels she both deserves and needs, she must convince her brothers that, on the surface, she readily accepts the wisdom of their demands with docility: “This is terrible good counsel”.Her sarcasm presages duplicity and tragedy.
“Your privatest thoughts…will come to light…” (1,2,241)
Here, Webster appears to render her brothers’ decision more about emotional control than tradition. He hints that there are personal, deep-seated reasons emerging. Ferdinand’s slip when he says later, “I am to be – bespeak- a husband for you” (3,1,38/9) not only confirms this suspicion, but also blurs the line between any such darker, psychological motives and the more tangible political ambitions he may have had. Ferdinand’s lycanthropy later in the play reminds us of these earlier, disturbing suggestions. In any case, while “the argument over the marriage can indeed be seen as a dynastic argument concerned with the Duchess's body politic”[8], we realise that, in viewing their sister as both physical and political property, they are exercising their control over her with as much determination as they display politically; that is, for avoiding the ignominy of a new, lower-class brother-in-law that they had not themselves selected. It might be argued that Ferdinand’s need to manipulate his sister conveniently obscures any dark interior desire with more practical needs: “His incestuous inclination…is a social posture, of hysterical compensation- a desperate expression of the desire to evade degrading association with inferiors”[9]. Indeed, Calderwood argues in support of ambiguity here: “It is Ferdinand who is unsure of himself, not Webster” [10]. Whatever the motivation, when he states, sarcastically and threateningly, “…pursue thy wishes!” (3,2,78), it is his sister’s agency that Ferdinand wishes to control. This agency encompasses freedom of thought and sexual autonomy.
Self Belief
The Duchess is clearly no shrinking violet. Her words to the demanding brothers move between political duplicity, involving downright lies (I’ll never marry”) (1,2,218), and rancorous irony (“This is terrible good counsel”) (1,2,228). She clearly is well practised in the skills needed to navigate the treacherous waters of this psychotic family. She also seems capable of mastering the scheming politicians of her duchy. Her reading of the warnings she receives from her brothers is astute and perceptive, understanding well the subtleties of Machiavellian duplicity: “I think this speech...was studied; it came so roundly off” (1,2,244). Her position as a widow politically vulnerable yet she maintains an instinctively robust level of self-belief.
Susan Baker’s view of The Duchess’ as a “static protagonist” suggests that her integrity and blind idealism is innate and instinctive, thereby rendering duplicity unlikely. But this idea flies in the face of the evidence; by necessity she has must become a dissembling Machiavellian to survive politically; indeed, as Joan Pedersen argues, her decision to put private desire before public responsibility, the “disruption of her duchy”[11] places her on a par with her corrupt brothers.
A Simpler View
There is a simpler view of The Duchess’ motivation. “The truer, simple life of woman; a husband to worship, and children to love and rear; this is what she wishes for herself”[12] Bradford here insists that she was able to articulate her desires and act upon them. Susan Baker’s implication that The Duchess’ actions are instinctive and unavoidable contradicts this. However, her belief seems to support Bradford’s generous assertion, that “she is the victim of a cruel and hopeless fatality.”[13] Yet surely both readings deny her any independence of mind or suggest that she might take some responsibility herself. Unquestionably, she is the victim of both a cruel patriarchy and a repressive pair of powerful brothers. Yet she made a conscious decision, in the hideously unfair world in which she was both victim and beneficiary, that would lead to tragedy.
She seems aware that challenging the Church’s traditions regarding the ceremony will present problems. She hints at this: “We are now man and wife, and tis the church…That must but echo this.” The Duchess subverts the accepted ceremony to construct her own, just as she seeks to act both positively and honourably. She seeks to establish “private order within public disorder, to forge a circumference of harmony in the centre of discord.”[14] As the Duchess constructs her own certainty while challenging that of a corrupt society, Ferdinand loses his mind as he insists, successfully, that degree be upheld. This is Webster’s pragmatically dismal view of how impossible it is to challenge social iniquity.
Contemporary Attitudes
Webster seems to have considered the ambiguity of the situation. Contemporary attitudes towards widows- particularly those with status and money- were diverse. While the Catholic Church in the early 17th century may have espoused “perpetual widowhood” [15]for older women, remarriage was deemed possibly “not ill, but approved of” [16] for those widowed young. Generally, as Sara Steen notes, there would have been considerable public support in Jacobean theatre-going society for the Duchess’ decision, as “only a few critics have suggested…that audiences might not automatically have condemned remarriage” or the dramatic challenge to social order, the “violation of degree” [17] that it represents. In other words, the decision of The Duchess to exert her authority and will, while undermining contemporary mores, is not entirely out of keeping with the mood of the day. John Selzer supports the idea that the Duchess’ actions are part of a “new ethic, one rooted in the primacy of worth over degree”[18]), a meritocracy inspired by Antonio’s glowing description of the intrigue-free French court.
Pathological Determination
Webster’s complex and ambiguous portrayal of both The Duchess and Vittoria Corombona in The White Devil suggests that he was prepared to present female characters as intelligent, independent and formidable. Contemporary attitudes probably reflected this progressive view, particularly concerning widows and remarriage. Yet, while there may have been contemporary tolerance in such matters, Webster introduces two unpredictably psychotic brothers uninterested in public attitudes. In the play we can praise The Duchess’ courage, integrity, passion, and honesty. Unfortunately, the potency of her desire for both Antonio and her own personal agency impaired her ability to assess the depth of her brothers’ pathological determination. She erred in that she seriously underestimated how they would react to being deceived. Time did not “easily scatter the tempest”; quite the opposite.
[2] Muriel C. Bradbrook Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy Cambridge 1935 pp 186-212
[3] Susan C. Baker The Static Protagonist in The Duchess of Malfi Texas Studies in Literature and Language, Vol.
22, No. 3, (1980), pp. 343-357
[4] Baker (ibid)
[5] James Calderwood “Styles of Ceremony” Essays in Criticism XII (1961)
[6] Clifford Leech Webster: A Critical Study (London 1951)
[7] Calderwood, ibid. p. 107
[8] Theodora A. Jankowski Negotiating the Female Body in John Webster's "The Duchess of Malfi" Studies in Philology, Vol. 87, No. 2 (Spring, 1990) University of North Carolina.
[9] Frank Whigham Sexual and Social Mobilityin The Duchess of MalfiPMLA Vol. 100/2 (Mar 1985), pp. 167-186
[10] Calderwood, ibid.
[11] Joyce E Petersen Curs’d Example University of Missouri Press, (1978, p.78)
[12] G. Bradford The Women of Middleton and Webster The Sewanee Review Vol. 29/ 1 (Jan 1921), pp. 14-29
[13] Bradford, ibid.
[14] Calderwood p.113
[15] E. Oakes A Tragedy of Identity Studies in Philology Vol 96 No. 1 Winter 1999 pp.51-67
[16] Father Fulvius Androtius The Widdowes Glasse (London 1621)
[17]Sara Jayne Steen The Crime of Marriage: Arbella Stuart and The Duchess of Malfi The Sixteenth Century Journal, Vol. 22, No. 1 (Spring, 1991), pp. 61-76
[18] John Selzer, Merit and Degree in Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, English Literary Renaissance, Wiley, (1981)
The marriage ceremony in Act One of The Duchess of Malfi is interpreted by James Calderwood as “an infringement of the rigidly established social order (of the day), and is ultimately an attack on the cosmological order.”[1] This strongly implies that such a “reversal of order”[2] is dangerous. Yet Calderwood’s serious assertion begs an obvious question. If The Duchess had understood that her actions were hazardous to the extent that she risked being eventually strangled to death, with her husband and children murdered in cold blood, would she still have gone through with it? The Duchess’ motivation, then, for such a reckless act- “a dangerous venture”, in her own words- is difficult to fathom. She is an intelligent, astute woman, fully aware of the importance of political hierarchies and social degree. She is politically experienced and understands the expectations of the patriarchal society that she herself has benefitted from. She is “apprehending danger” (1,2,260)m as she is watched closely by two Machiavellian brothers who are determined to keep her celibate and marketable. What would lead her to embark on a potentially fatal course of action? What prompts her to go into a “wilderness… where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue to be my guide?” (1,2,274/5)
“internal necessity”
One view is that she simply could not deny her true nature. Susan Baker argues that she is a “static protagonist”;that is, one “absolutely bound to a deeply rooted internal necessity which is non-negotiable”[3] Seemingly, her emotional instincts are so powerful that they cannot be resisted, let alone questioned. In this regard, “we (in the audience) are not obligated to establish motives for this act, only to recognise its centrality”[4]. But this seems wholly unsatisfactory. Baker’s identification of an unidentified “internal necessity” implies at best a conscious abrogation of duty; at worst, poor emotional control, political naivety, and serious lack of judgement. Yet there is nothing to suggest that the widowed Duchess has ever displayed anything other than effective leadership; while Antonio is hardly objective, his claim that “her days are practised in noble virtue” (1,2,119) seems to be empirically sound.
Reputation
Despite having established her impeccable reputation, Webster hints that The Duchess is not above an emotional reaction. It seems that she has been pushed to breaking point even though her weary response (“shall this move me?”) (1,2,256) suggests that her brothers’ co-ordinated, unreasonable bluster is nothing new. But she is proud and confident. Having been widowed, she has become successfully independent. She believes that she is both ready to remarry and strong enough to resist her brothers’ demands. However, she is a ruler, with far-reaching responsibilities. Her confidence becomes dangerous. By marrying a man of lower social standing, she “displays a disrespect for social realities”[5] and “…overturning a social code, she defies the responsibilities of degree by marrying beneath her”[6]. As if accepting her vulnerability, she automatically reverts to subterfuge, recognising how dangerous and politically inappropriate her action will seem. Ever practical, her maid, Cariola, is horrified by The Duchess’ decision and seems to realise its significance more realistically then her mistress:
“I’ll conceal this secret from the world
As warily as those that trade in poison
Keep poison from their children.” (1,2,266-8)
It seems that she devises her covert ceremony almost to spite her brothers. Calderwood damns this as “impetuosity”[7] She is aware that her plans represent “impossible actions” (1,2,261), foreshadowing her own fate. Her reassurance that “time will easily scatter the tempest” (1,2,381) is an unconvincing response to Antonio’s well-grounded and pragmatic concerns. Her optimism proves to be tragically misguided.
Family Control
Initially, behind The Duchess’ brothers’ insistence upon her staying single seems to be a recognition of the imperative to maintain social respectability and future potential marketability as a wife. The shrewd Duchess is aware that subtlety is required. To preserve and maintain the agency she feels she both deserves and needs, she must convince her brothers that, on the surface, she readily accepts the wisdom of their demands with docility: “This is terrible good counsel”.Her sarcasm presages duplicity and tragedy.
“Your privatest thoughts…will come to light…” (1,2,241)
Here, Webster appears to render her brothers’ decision more about emotional control than tradition. He hints that there are personal, deep-seated reasons emerging. Ferdinand’s slip when he says later, “I am to be – bespeak- a husband for you” (3,1,38/9) not only confirms this suspicion, but also blurs the line between any such darker, psychological motives and the more tangible political ambitions he may have had. Ferdinand’s lycanthropy later in the play reminds us of these earlier, disturbing suggestions. In any case, while “the argument over the marriage can indeed be seen as a dynastic argument concerned with the Duchess's body politic”[8], we realise that, in viewing their sister as both physical and political property, they are exercising their control over her with as much determination as they display politically; that is, for avoiding the ignominy of a new, lower-class brother-in-law that they had not themselves selected. It might be argued that Ferdinand’s need to manipulate his sister conveniently obscures any dark interior desire with more practical needs: “His incestuous inclination…is a social posture, of hysterical compensation- a desperate expression of the desire to evade degrading association with inferiors”[9]. Indeed, Calderwood argues in support of ambiguity here: “It is Ferdinand who is unsure of himself, not Webster” [10]. Whatever the motivation, when he states, sarcastically and threateningly, “…pursue thy wishes!” (3,2,78), it is his sister’s agency that Ferdinand wishes to control. This agency encompasses freedom of thought and sexual autonomy.
Self Belief
The Duchess is clearly no shrinking violet. Her words to the demanding brothers move between political duplicity, involving downright lies (I’ll never marry”) (1,2,218), and rancorous irony (“This is terrible good counsel”) (1,2,228). She clearly is well practised in the skills needed to navigate the treacherous waters of this psychotic family. She also seems capable of mastering the scheming politicians of her duchy. Her reading of the warnings she receives from her brothers is astute and perceptive, understanding well the subtleties of Machiavellian duplicity: “I think this speech...was studied; it came so roundly off” (1,2,244). Her position as a widow politically vulnerable yet she maintains an instinctively robust level of self-belief.
Susan Baker’s view of The Duchess’ as a “static protagonist” suggests that her integrity and blind idealism is innate and instinctive, thereby rendering duplicity unlikely. But this idea flies in the face of the evidence; by necessity she has must become a dissembling Machiavellian to survive politically; indeed, as Joan Pedersen argues, her decision to put private desire before public responsibility, the “disruption of her duchy”[11] places her on a par with her corrupt brothers.
A Simpler View
There is a simpler view of The Duchess’ motivation. “The truer, simple life of woman; a husband to worship, and children to love and rear; this is what she wishes for herself”[12] Bradford here insists that she was able to articulate her desires and act upon them. Susan Baker’s implication that The Duchess’ actions are instinctive and unavoidable contradicts this. However, her belief seems to support Bradford’s generous assertion, that “she is the victim of a cruel and hopeless fatality.”[13] Yet surely both readings deny her any independence of mind or suggest that she might take some responsibility herself. Unquestionably, she is the victim of both a cruel patriarchy and a repressive pair of powerful brothers. Yet she made a conscious decision, in the hideously unfair world in which she was both victim and beneficiary, that would lead to tragedy.
She seems aware that challenging the Church’s traditions regarding the ceremony will present problems. She hints at this: “We are now man and wife, and tis the church…That must but echo this.” The Duchess subverts the accepted ceremony to construct her own, just as she seeks to act both positively and honourably. She seeks to establish “private order within public disorder, to forge a circumference of harmony in the centre of discord.”[14] As the Duchess constructs her own certainty while challenging that of a corrupt society, Ferdinand loses his mind as he insists, successfully, that degree be upheld. This is Webster’s pragmatically dismal view of how impossible it is to challenge social iniquity.
Contemporary Attitudes
Webster seems to have considered the ambiguity of the situation. Contemporary attitudes towards widows- particularly those with status and money- were diverse. While the Catholic Church in the early 17th century may have espoused “perpetual widowhood” [15]for older women, remarriage was deemed possibly “not ill, but approved of” [16] for those widowed young. Generally, as Sara Steen notes, there would have been considerable public support in Jacobean theatre-going society for the Duchess’ decision, as “only a few critics have suggested…that audiences might not automatically have condemned remarriage” or the dramatic challenge to social order, the “violation of degree” [17] that it represents. In other words, the decision of The Duchess to exert her authority and will, while undermining contemporary mores, is not entirely out of keeping with the mood of the day. John Selzer supports the idea that the Duchess’ actions are part of a “new ethic, one rooted in the primacy of worth over degree”[18]), a meritocracy inspired by Antonio’s glowing description of the intrigue-free French court.
Pathological Determination
Webster’s complex and ambiguous portrayal of both The Duchess and Vittoria Corombona in The White Devil suggests that he was prepared to present female characters as intelligent, independent and formidable. Contemporary attitudes probably reflected this progressive view, particularly concerning widows and remarriage. Yet, while there may have been contemporary tolerance in such matters, Webster introduces two unpredictably psychotic brothers uninterested in public attitudes. In the play we can praise The Duchess’ courage, integrity, passion, and honesty. Unfortunately, the potency of her desire for both Antonio and her own personal agency impaired her ability to assess the depth of her brothers’ pathological determination. She erred in that she seriously underestimated how they would react to being deceived. Time did not “easily scatter the tempest”; quite the opposite.
- James Calderwood “Styles of Ceremony” Essays in Criticism XII (1961)
- Muriel C. Bradbrook Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy Cambridge 1935 pp 186-212
- Susan C. Baker The Static Protagonist in The Duchess of Malfi Texas Studies in Literature and Language, Vol. 22, No. 3, (1980), pp. 343-357
- Clifford Leech Webster: A Critical Study (London 1951)
- Theodora A. Jankowski Negotiating the Female Body in John Webster's "The Duchess of Malfi" Studies in Philology, Vol. 87, No. 2 (Spring, 1990) University of North Carolina
- Frank Whigham Sexual and Social Mobilityin The Duchess of MalfiPMLA Vol. 100/2 (Mar 1985), pp. 167-186
- Joyce E Petersen Curs’d Example University of Missouri Press, (1978, p.78)
- G. Bradford The Women of Middleton and Webster The Sewanee Review Vol. 29/ 1 (Jan 1921), pp. 14-29
- Elizabeth Oakes “A Tragedy of Identity” North Carolina Press Winter (1999)
- Father Fulvius Androtius The Widdowes Glasse (London 1621)
- John Selzer, Merit and Degree in Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, English Literary Renaissance, Wiley, (1981)
[2] Muriel C. Bradbrook Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy Cambridge 1935 pp 186-212
[3] Susan C. Baker The Static Protagonist in The Duchess of Malfi Texas Studies in Literature and Language, Vol.
22, No. 3, (1980), pp. 343-357
[4] Baker (ibid)
[5] James Calderwood “Styles of Ceremony” Essays in Criticism XII (1961)
[6] Clifford Leech Webster: A Critical Study (London 1951)
[7] Calderwood, ibid. p. 107
[8] Theodora A. Jankowski Negotiating the Female Body in John Webster's "The Duchess of Malfi" Studies in Philology, Vol. 87, No. 2 (Spring, 1990) University of North Carolina.
[9] Frank Whigham Sexual and Social Mobilityin The Duchess of MalfiPMLA Vol. 100/2 (Mar 1985), pp. 167-186
[10] Calderwood, ibid.
[11] Joyce E Petersen Curs’d Example University of Missouri Press, (1978, p.78)
[12] G. Bradford The Women of Middleton and Webster The Sewanee Review Vol. 29/ 1 (Jan 1921), pp. 14-29
[13] Bradford, ibid.
[14] Calderwood p.113
[15] E. Oakes A Tragedy of Identity Studies in Philology Vol 96 No. 1 Winter 1999 pp.51-67
[16] Father Fulvius Androtius The Widdowes Glasse (London 1621)
[17]Sara Jayne Steen The Crime of Marriage: Arbella Stuart and The Duchess of Malfi The Sixteenth Century Journal, Vol. 22, No. 1 (Spring, 1991), pp. 61-76
[18] John Selzer, Merit and Degree in Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, English Literary Renaissance, Wiley, (1981)
