Farces

I've read quite a few farces over the past few days - a fantastic dramatic genre for my research as they frequently emphasise the extravagance and bombasticity of heroic drama.

Picking plays to use is a dicey subject, though: I spent ages on Sunday looking for William D'Avenant's The Playhouse to be Let (1663), the fifth act of which, I had read, is one of the earliest examples of English burlesque. It features several characters typical of heroic dramas, tragedies, and romances - Cleopatra, Marc Anthony, and Caesar - presented in a decidedly unromantic way. Once I had finally found a copy online, through EEBO, it was a little disappointing. It was very short (not even five pages long) and about the best joke was the consistent naming of Anthony as "Tony" - as farcical jokes go, rather weak.

Reading Thomas Duffett's The Empress of Morocco (1674) now, which is slightly more interesting - especially as the cast-list reveals that the female characters were all played by men in its original run. It's a direct spoof of Elkanah Settle's own The Empress of Morocco and turns the London underclasses into a sort of alternative Moroccan nobility: Morena, the titular empress, is also an "apple woman", for example.

Speaking objectively, I do feel that a lot of farces of this period have fallen out of popularity deservedly. There's a lot of pantomime humour in them, which makes them extremely useful to use as sources to tell us what was popular in the late seventeenth century - the humour in The Playhouse to be Let, for example, derrives from the baseness of Cleopatra et al's behaviour, and indicates that the official take on them was far more serious. By burlesquing their characters in suggesting an everyday humanity to their behaviour, pretension of taste and ideology is being lampooned. As I say, this is interesting for what it tells us about seventeenth-century cultural. beliefs. Yet at the same time, no one can expect a modern audience to go to a play fully briefed on all the intricacies of Restoration culture and society. And as much as anything else, a lot of the humour is very cheap, frequently with a rushed feel about it.

All the same, I'll defend The Dragon of Wantley to the death. Cheap or not, any hero who wins the day by kicking his adversary in the bum is pretty funny.

Benchmark

I hit ten thousand words this morning! Even though that's only between an eighth and a tenth of the final product, I feel pleased. As it stands, I believe the chapter is about two-thirds complete; if I put my all into it, I think I could even have a finished penultimate draft by the end of the week.

One of the greatest problems I've faced is the order in which I present my argument. I feel as though I have four competing themes throughout the chapter - sword-fighting vs. masculinity vs. classicism vs. the seventeenth century - and I've spent a lot of time with my beloved whiteboard in an attempt to find a solution that will best suit what I'm trying to say. Do I start chronologically and discuss Greek and Roman literature and philosophy before leaping forward to the sixteenth century to talk about humanism and the flurry of literature inspired by antiquity? Do I put ideas about masculinity at the forefront and discuss their development through time?

I've settled on trying to give all four aspects fairly equal "page-time", although classicism and the seventeenth century are discussed more as influencing factors in the development of sword-fighting which is in turn an expression of masculinity. Much has been made of the post-Renaissance evolution of the "self-fashioned man", and self-fashioning (I think) was reliant on violence. All the great, powerful, and righteous protagonists of classical literature were invariably warriors who used violence outside of war to achieve their personal ends.

Odysseus' slaughter of the Suitors is a good example of this. He could have returned home and declared his presence to them (he is King of Ithaca, after all, and a renowned warrior), but he must display his cunning by tricking the Suitors, show his skills in battle by shooting an arrow through the axe heads, and finally kill them all for dishonouring him in his own. Late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century literature is filled with allusions to and variations on the classical world; I argue that it also represents young men as following in the violent, self-serving tradition of Odysseus.

The subsequent backlash against literary heroes of this kind is what I want to look at in the rest of my thesis...