Saha

Anuska Saha

Semester 2

English Honours

UID No: 0304200114

University Roll No: 202017-11-0365

University Registration No: 017-1211-3602-20

Course: CC4

The Real World in Shakespeare’s Comedies

Comedy has been assigned an inferior rank in dramatic importance to tragedy for the longest

time in the world of literary criticism. This judgement stems primarily from Aristotle’s

doctrines in Poetics, where he describes comedy as “an imitation of baser men”, designed to

fit the crude taste of an unsophisticated class. Despite its antique authority, this notion

disregards and is largely oblivious to the evolution of literature and drama since the age of

antiquity and the growth of comedy beyond just humour. Leon Golden, in his article

“Aristotle on Comedy” in The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, elaborates how both

comedy and tragedy have one goal; making relevant statements about the constituents of human

existence. Comedy achieves such effect through the employment of devices and evocation of

emotions fairly different from the “pity” and “fear” of tragedy. While tragedy seeks to dramatize

the loss of potential to a fatal flaw, comedy explores human errors and follies in a world where

possibility exceeds grim reality.

Among the first attempts to redeem the genre of comedy as a ___domain worthy of intellectual

inquiry were the works of feminist critics. They argued that the chief occupation of tragedy is the

enterprise of a single hero – invariably a man – whose single-minded pursuit and self-determined
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action directs the course of the play. Female characters in tragic plots struggle to break out of their

secondary presence to achieve a valid foreground. Julius Caesar’s Portia, one of the most

intelligent and strong-willed women of Shakespeare’s plays, reflects this when she defines her

worth by asserting her connections with the noble men in her life: “I grant I am a woman, but

withal / A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife.” (JC, 2.1.294-95).

In contrast, the vast scope of comedy allows its female characters to claim a central role,

where their actions lead the play. We find such interesting heroines in Portia, whose

confident and skilful argument in court saves Antonio from pitiful death, and Viola, whose

undaunted resourcefulness in the face of unforeseen crisis sustains her on a strange island.

Shakespeare’s comedies feature an array of charming and vibrant characters who interact and

intermingle within a seemingly comic plot to produce an honest projection of human

behavior.

The social climate of Renaissance Europe acquires its most realistic representation in The

Merchant of Venice, where the golden world of “romantic magic” meets the realm of “moral and

psychological realism” (Daiches 256). The first act itself establishes a jarring contrast between the

callous commercialism of Venice and the seat of hospitality and rejuvenation that is Belmont. This

contrast is carried out to the climax, with the subtlest indication that as much as the two worlds are

separate, they are mirror images of each other.

The play’s Jewish antagonist Shylock is the pivot of much of the critical discourse. His portrayal

in the theatres has ranged from the caricature of a stereotypical shrewish Jew to the mistreated

victim of social and religious persecution. This powerful, dignified villain is capable of evoking

feelings of sympathy and loathing simultaneously in his spectators. His dialogues and passionate

speeches are imbued with ironic meaning for Antonio, his adversary. The superficial friendliness

he feigns when offering Antonio a loan free of interest, “this kindness will I show” (MV, 1.3.115),
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betrays more than just his vengeful scheme. His equivocal usage of “kind” rings with an

implication of not only his ulterior intent to show his “kindness of deed” but an attempt to prove

his sameness of nature with his Christian foe that the latter firmly denies. At the end of the play, as

Shylock stands stripped of his wealth, religious identity, and integrity, this “kindness” of nature

becomes more pronounced than ever, calling into question Portia’s poetic preaching of the virtue

of “mercy” in her famous speech. The juxtaposition of Portia’s brilliant speech coupled with

Shylock’s passionate soliloquy earlier and his desperate insistence on lawful revenge strikes a

perplexing note of moral dilemma.

The festive denouement in Belmont with the comic ring episode does little to neutralize the bitter

aftertaste from the court scene. Against the romantic revelry of the moonlit night featuring three

united couples, Antonio’s secluded and passive presence stands out, recalling his objectless

melancholy at the beginning of the play, perhaps to highlight the alienation and estrangement that

pervades an entire community (Ryan 109-126).

Such latent social commentary runs deep in all of Shakespeare’s comedies, especially in Twelfth

Night, arguably the most symbolic and intriguing of them all. Amidst its perceived “carnivalesque

revelry” (Elam 19-21), Twelfth Night camouflages a larger truth about the culture that produced it.

The title of the play itself summons the medieval Christian festival which had survived into the

early Elizabethan society and which sanctioned an inversion of the social hierarchy coupled with

indulgent feasting and the dominance of misrule over order. Largely taking after the medieval

mystery plays, the play possesses an inherent eccentric quality in its characters and themes, a

deeper glance into which reveals profound truths about its social context while provoking

questions about the nature of identity. From the lovelorn, self-indulgent duke, Orsino, to Viola –

whose male disguise becomes the source of irony and humour, as well as the ambiguities around

gender – Twelfth Night offers a vista of characters worth examining.

One of the play’s most enigmatic characters is Feste, the professional fool who functions as a

metaphorical mirror to those around him, reflecting their follies and impracticalities with harsh

truthfulness in the harmless garb of jest. The different phases of the play are traced musically

through Feste’s songs, while the clown himself becomes the link between its multiple levels of

reality. On the other side of the character spectrum, there is the self-righteous steward Malvolio, a

satirized representation of puritanical sentiment. The typecasting of his character and his

humiliating punishment at the hands of his high-spirited counterparts may reflect Shakespeare’s

disfavour with the emerging Puritan tradition in late 16th century England.

All the loose strings of the plot – inconsistent passions, disguises, and misapprehensions – resolve

into a conveniently comic ending for everyone but Malvolio, who has been “most notoriously

abused” (TN 5.1.372), and swears revenge upon his aggressors before leaving the stage. His bitter

resentment leaves an unsettling feeling of insecurity at the realization that the real world lingers on

the horizon and will inevitably take over again. Feste’s concluding song about “the wind and the

rain” ruefully alludes to the different stages of life but ends abruptly with an address to the

audience: “But that’s all one, our play is done, / And we’ll strive to please you everyday.” (TN

5.1.400-401). The moment Feste breaks from his role as the fool and emerges as an actor, the

fantasy of Illyria disintegrates. If the world of Twelfth Night is one of “afternoon sunshine with a

hint of sunset in its quality” (Daiches 259), its climax epitomizes the complete retreat of the sun to

give way to the low-spirited drudgery of social reality.

Elements of unrealised tragedy are equally common in Shakespeare’s comedies as comic

interludes in his tragedies are. By the time this tonal ambiguity achieves its supreme example in

The Tempest, the playwright has completely betrayed all conventions that seek to classify dramatic

works as either of the preset binary. This complementary interplay between contrasting emotions

characterizes Shakespeare’s drama, while its subliminal elements transcend the confines of ‘plot’
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to display the collective experience of its culture. Shakespeare’s essence lies in his ability to

encapsulate subtle, raw human emotions in refined poetry.

Works Cited

Daiches, David. A Critical History of English Literature. Revised ed., vol. 1, New

Delhi: Supernova Publishers, 2010. Print.

Elam, Keir. Introduction. Twelfth Night, by William Shakespeare, Ed. Keir Elam, 3

ed., New Delhi: Bloomsbury Arden Shakespeare, 2013. 1-97. Print.

Golden, Leon. “Aristotle on Comedy.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 42.3

(1984): 283–290. JSTOR, Web. 5 June 2021.

Habicht, Werner. “Comedy, Tragedy, and Tragicomedy in Shakespeare.” Shakespeare

Quarterly, 32.3 (1981): 413–416. JSTOR. Web. 6 June 2021.

Haikka, Tiina. Jesters or Truth-tellers-a Study in Three Shakespearean Wise Fools:

Touchstone from As You Like It, Feste from Twelfth Night, and King Lear's Unnamed Fool.

MS thesis. Tampere University, 2006. 46-48. Trepo.tuni.fi. Web. 7 June 2021.

Hardison, O. B. “Logic Versus the Slovenly World in Shakespearean

Comedy.” Shakespeare Quarterly, 31.3 (1980): 311–322. JSTOR, Web. 6 June 2021.

John Wm. Sider. “The Serious Elements of Shakespeare's Comedies.” Shakespeare

Quarterly, 24.1 (1973): 1–11. JSTOR, Web. 6 June 2021.

Kastan, David Scott. “Shakespeare and ‘The Way of Womenkind.’” Daedalus, 111.3

(1982): 115–130. JSTOR, Web. 6 June 2021.

Mullan, John. “An introduction to Shakespeare’s comedy.” The British Library. N.p,

15 March 2016. Web. 6 June 2021.

Ryan, Kiernan. Shakespeare's Comedies. 1st ed., United Kingdom, Palgrave

Macmillan, 2009. Google Books. Web. 8 June 2021.