A multifaceted gem of the Jacobean theatre, John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi invites both controversy and commendation

from the seventeenth century until today. Though critic Fitzgeffrey's 1617 review assessed Webster's language as "crabbed" and William Archer derided him for being "melodramatic" in 1893, twentieth century critics and audiences have been fascinated by the work. Feminists celebrate the strong females in many of Webster's plays. Writer P. D. James weaves Webster's lines into several of her murder mysteries. Webster is most famous today for his cameo representation in Shakespeare In Love, as a street urchin cruelly dangling a live mouse in front of a cat. The Duchess of Malfi is John Webster's best-known drama, tempered by existentialist philosophy, and sparked with breath-taking poetry. T. S. Eliot's famous comment that Webster "saw the skull beneath the skin" aptly captures the play's preoccupation with death; the tragedy's dark world includes shocking images and grotesque portrayals. A severed hand, corpse-like wax figures imitating the Duchess' husband and children, a ghostly echo, and the twisted brother Duke Ferdinand's descent into wolf-madness, all contribute to the horror. It is not surprising that French Modernist Antonin Artaud appropriated Jacobean tragedies as models for his Theatre of Cruelty, and Bertolt Brecht revised and presented The Duchess of Malfi with W. H. Auden in 1946. There is a feeling of doom from Act One onward in The Duchess of Malfi, yet there is courage in the midst of evil. The Duchess and her chosen Antonio create their own circle of familial happiness, and as the Duchess says following their covert wedding, "All discord, without his circumference, /Is only to be pitied, and not fear'd." The characters' lives and legacies are central, transcending morbidity. Mortality is a way to measure what immortally endures.

In The Duchess of Malfi, John Webster combines several literary and philosophical conventions. His characters Bosola and Duke Ferdinand represent unbridled Machiavellian ambition with which the English were fascinated, following translation of The Prince, Nicolo Machiavelli's political instruction in duplicity dedicated to the Medicis. Although the Duchess, Ferdinand, and the Cardinal were Spanish rulers occupying parts of a divided Italy, the setting allows Webster to exploit the xenophobic audience's fears of Renaissance Italy's murderous corruption. The works of the ancient Roman writer Seneca, dark and bloody adaptations of Greek tragedy, were also a major influence on Webster and his

contemporaries. Like Hamlet, whose plot features Senecan conventions of the five-act structure, the ghost, proverbial expressions, an appointed avenger, and prolonged delay in the action, The Duchess of Malfi is a revenge tragedy. Seneca's stoic philosophy, maintaining the need for inner goodness and fortitude in a corrupt world, influences the work as well. Delio summarizes the play's crux with the stoic concluding comment: "Integrity of life, is fame's best friend/Which nobly (beyond Death) shall crown the end." Portrayed as a dark character known as a malcontent, Bosola's psyche is influenced by early modern views of melancholy. His brooding nature, like Hamlet's, excuses him from punishment, despite his biting criticism of those in power.

Yet, The Duchess of Malfi is a play about breaking conventions. The Duchess woos and marries her household steward, an inversion of tight Jacobean male/female roles and class restrictions. She proclaims her unconventional behavior with: "I am going into a wilderness,/Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clew/To be my guide." Bosola, hired by Ferdinand as spy and revenger of his sister's marriage, switches sides and turns revenger against her brothers, a radical departure from typical Senecan dramas. Structural order is violated when the titled protagonist dies one act before the play's end. And significantly, the Duchess' eldest son by Antonio, rather than by her first husband, inherits her rank, overturning Webster's historical source, and perhaps validating her unorthodox marriage. Watching The Duchess of Malfi, the key question is why this young widow remarries in such a seemingly foolhardy manner. Webster contributed to Thomas Overbury's volume of character sketches, prose selections both satirical and commendatory, caricaturing members of Jacobean society. Webster's "The Virtuous Widow" contrasted the praiseworthy widow who remained chastely true to her husband's memory, never remarrying, with his "The Common Widow" who, unwilling to give up her physical pleasures, quickly remarried. This latter point of view is echoed in Act One of the drama, as the Duchess of Malfi's brothers lecture their sister in virtue, their sexually charged remarks summated by Ferdinand's "Farewell, lusty widow." The play's viewpoint becomes ambiguous, however, when, contrasted with her brothers, the Duchess appears as a model woman, and her remarriage as a courageous act. Yet, the viewer is left to decide the wisdom of her actions and the consequences they unleash. Reinforcing her brothers' viewpoint, the Duchess

unabashedly admits her desires. "This is flesh, and blood Sir" she proclaims to Antonio. The Renaissance was an increasing time of individualism, moving away from the medieval society's more communal structure. The Duchess' assertion of herself shows both the heroism and limitations of self-definition, especially for a woman whose position in early modern patriarchal society is tenuous. Her public role as a political figure is violated by desire for a personal life, reminding the audience of King James' predecessor Queen Elizabeth's decision to remain unmarried, in deference to her country. The lady-in-waiting Cariola's assessment of the Duchess' marriage illustrates the Jacobean division of females from power: "Whether the spirit of greatness, or of woman/Reign most in her, I know not, but it shows/A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity."

The counterpoint to the Duchess is Bosola, the most complex male character. Like the Duchess, he moves to a position of individual action, but his self-assertion occurs later. At first the brothers' lackey, his hopes for economic and social advancement (mirroring Antonio's reality) are quashed. As he turns against the brothers in support of Antonio, perhaps he learns about and displays another side of himself; one concerned with justice, rather than exploitation. Bosola's transformation, however, is ambiguous, and once again the viewer must decide if this malcontent is motivated by disgust for the brothers, admiration for the Duchess, or lack of payment for services rendered, as the Arragonian brothers fail to reward him for his murderous role. Nonetheless, Bosola's insightful commentary on the court and characters is invaluable to the audience, as is Antonio's initial exposition. Antonio, the faithful servant and husband of the Duchess, is presented as a virtuous man throughout the play, caught up in the events sometimes without knowing why.

The brothers Duke Ferdinand and the Cardinal are as Antonio says twins "in quality" if not biology. One holds political position, the other religious office, yet both abuse their power, manipulating and corrupting others in the process. The Cardinal's sin, which includes fornication with and murder of a married woman, validated the antiCatholic views of Webster's audience. His mistress Julia

demonstrates unbridled lust, although she fatally repents. It is difficult not to associate the Duke with the reign of James I, who was known for his insistence on absolutism, behind the scenes method of rule, and secretive personality. Duke Vincentio in Shakespeare's Measure for Measure similarly echoes James. Political issues aside, the audience can watch Ferdinand's already unbalanced state descend into madness, as he confronts the result of his actions in the person of his dead sister. "Cover her face. Mine eyes dazzle: she died young," laments Ferdinand. His obsessive attempt to control the Duchess has created critical speculation over his motives; does he merely want to inherit her lands and fortune, unimpeded by more heirs; is he trying to maintain the family's aristocratic lineage, or is he caught in incestuous desire?

Webster's ambiguity seems more postmodern than antiquated, and in this way, the play rings true for the twenty-first century. With all the horror, one may wonder why the play attracts audiences as it does. Against the dark background of terror and evil, the heroine and hero shine brightly. This is a play that explores what it means to be human, an individual yet part of society. The tragedy questions where meaning lies, if justice and even God exists, or whether, as Bosola philosophizes: "We are merely the stars' tennisballs." The issues of The Duchess of Malfi are the issues that confront us all. Carol Blessing, Ph.D. Associate Professor of Literature Point Loma Nazarene University San Diego, CA