''The World of Wrestling' and Medieval English Drama

''The World of Wrestling' and Medieval English Drama

   In Roland Barthes' collection of essays Mythologies he takes a variety of mundane objects and experiences and draws philosophical observations from them. He opens the collection with 'The World of Wrestling' in which he discusses the spectacle of wrestling in 1950's France. In this piece I will argue first that many of the aspects of wrestling that Barthes remarks upon are shared with medieval drama and second that this means that some of Barthes' philosophical conclusions could also be applied to early drama.

   The first aspect of wrestling which Barthes finds notable is the fact that it was often 'an open air spectacle'¹ that 'aligns with drama as well as the Spanish Bullfights' (page 3). To Barthes, when wrestling occurs outdoors it has the grandiose sense of being performed under the stars. Even when wrestling is actually performed inside 'in the most squalid Parisian halls' (page 3), it retains this grandiosity because the of the floodlights inside. The key, Barthes argues, is that 'light without shadow generates emotion without reserve' (page 3). Perhaps what he means here is that with the lack of shadows and with no need for a spotlight, emotional scenes and performances are made all the more raw.

   These things are true of medieval drama. Like the Parisian wrestling, it is by its nature an 'open air spectacle' (page 3) with the sun as a light source. In fact, the York play of 'The Crucifixion' is an excellent example of the power of 'light without shadow' to produce 'emotion without reserve' (page 3). When Christ is pulled up on his cross and addresses the spectators, saying 'All men that walkis by waye or strete/ [...] Byholdes myn heede, myn handis, and my feete', he would have been high and bathed in light, outside of the shadow of the surrounding buildings.² Perhaps it isn't a coincidence that the most raw and striking moment in all the cycle plays occurs when Barthes' condition for 'emotion without reserve' (page 3) is met.

   Barthes' description of the 'performance' of the wrestlers is also important. He argues that, in the performances of the wrestlers, the public wants:

                    'the image of passion, not passion itself. There 

                    is no more a problem of truth in wrestling than 

                    in theatre. In both, what is expected is the 

                    intelligible representations of moral 

                    situations which are usually private' (page 7).

   The phrase that interests me here is the expectation of 'the intelligible representation of moral situations which are usually private' (page 7). While Barthes of course intends it to mean the exaggerated actions and facial expressions of professional wrestlers in a staged match, I would argue that this phrase rather perfectly describes so-called 'morality plays'. Plays like Mankind are in their essence just that – 'intelligible representations of moral situations which are usually private' (page 7). Mankind is the exploration of one nameless individual's struggle with temptation and religion. It is, then, a depiction of a moral situation which is usually private.

   A second phrase from that passage that is worth further remark is when Barthes states that 'there is no more a problem of truth in wrestling than in theatre' (page 7). The type of wrestling which Barthes discusses, like the modern WWE in the USA, is staged rather than athletic or competitive; he states that 'wrestling is not a sport, it is a spectacle […] the public is completely uninterested in knowing whether the contest is rigged or not […] it abandons itself to the primary virtue of spectacle' (page 3). Like staged wrestling, medieval drama lacks any realism. By this I mean it lacks the truth provided by any relatable or recognisable characters or situations, opting instead for allegory and crude representations of abstractions. Barthes' argument is that a spectacle with no real truth is not necessarily robbed of meaning. The meaning is in the spectacle and thus despite the fact that fantastic scenes such as the battle between the vices and the virtues in The Castle of Perseverance, which shares the sense of a 'mythological fight between good and evil' (page 12) with wrestling, have no truth or reality to them, the very spectacle of the improbable has value.

   Medieval theatre is often seen as a rather remote subject matter but I hope I have shown with this short piece the opportunities of applying modern philosophy and literary theory to ancient texts.

1 Roland Barthes, 'The World of Wrestling' in Mythologies (London: Vintage, 2009), pp. 3-14, page 3. Further references follow quotations in the text.

2 York, The Crucifixion in Medieval Drama: An Anthology, ed. by Greg Walker, (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2000), pp. 134-42, ll. 253-5.

Life Imitating Art: Donald Trump and the English Cycle Plays

Life Imitating Art: Donald Trump and the English Cycle Plays

   The world has greeted the election of Donald Trump to the presidency of the United States of America with some consternation due to the divisive, haranguing diatribes that characterised his campaign. The speeches, which could reasonably be called performances, that he gave were full of threats of violence and dismissal of his opponents and are echoed by far-right groups active across the world at the moment. However, if other scholars of early drama are anything like me, then they will have recognised speeches such as these from another source; the English Cycle pageants.

   The English Cycle plays, particularly those originating in the city of York, depict two of the most significant Biblical tyrants. The first is, of course, the Pharaoh of Exodus who appears in the York play of Moses. The parallels between the Pharaoh and Trump in terms of identity and racial politics are undeniable and obvious (for example, the Pharaoh says of the Jews 'Fy on tham! To the devell of helle […/] bondage shall we to tham bede') but I would argue that Donald Trump is more comparable to the second despot of the Cycle; Herod Antipater and it is upon this persona that I will focus.¹ In particular I will examine the depiction, and the speeches, of Herod in the York play Christ Before Herod and draw out comparisons between the persona of Herod and Trump.² I will end by suggesting possible appropriate reactions to such rhetoric.

   Herod, as is common in the plays featuring either of these despots, opens the play with a rant in which many tropes of Trump's rhetoric are present. Like Trump, he threatens physical violence upon those who do not listen to him when he says 'þis brande þat is bright schalle brese in youre brain',³ like Trump he boasts of his own prowess when he states that 'agaynste jeauntis [giants] ongentill have we joined with ingendis' (l.14), like Trump he threatens to imprison his enemies when he warns that 'whoso repreve our esrare we schal choppe þam in cheynes' (l. 17). That this opening speech alone is so reminiscent of Trump tells us a great deal about his political strategies. Herod as depicted in this play displays the very definition of bad kingship; ranting, dictatorial, barely coherent. It should worry us all that so many parallels to Trump's campaign can be drawn from this speech.

   Traces of Trump are not confined to the Herod's opening speech. Herod's concern about Jesus also has parallels with Trump and his supporters. The first time in the play that Herod seems concerned with anything other than his own rants is when he feels threatened by the potential power of Jesus, asking his advisor, 'menys þou þat [his..] myghtyng schulde my myghtes marre[?]' (l. 108) and later again rather anxiously asking 'knowes he þat oure myghtis are þe more[?]' (l. 132). This angst about Jesus' power is coupled with pettish complaints about his lack of reverence when Herod complains that 'he meks hym no more unto me/ þanne it were to a man of þer awn towne' (ll. 180-1). The insecurity about his own power that Herod reveals here is key to understanding Trump's presidential campaign. The campaign was built on the insecurity and fear of white males that they, hitherto unquestionably the kings of the USA, may no longer be given the preferential status to which they are accustomed. Like Herod, Trump and his supporters do not react well to the possibility that their power may be threatened by interlopers.

   So, this said, how should we respond to these real life Herods, ranting and threatening, terrified of their power slipping from their fingers? It is here that life must cease imitating art. In the pageant, Jesus reacts with a stoic silence, saying not one word for the whole performance. This first amuses ('Lo sirs, he deffis us with dynne' (l. 190)), then enrages ('Wele Lorde, saie! What devyll never a dele[?]' (l.239)) Herod and his court.

   This silent strategy of Christ in the play, however dramatically striking, is not appropriate for those of us who would count ourselves among the opponents of Trump and his supporters. We, unlike Christ, must speak up against every Herod-esque rant that we hear and counter them with reasoned, calm and firm moral arguments. Of course Trump, like Herod, will not listen but make no mistake – everyone that speaks up will be heard by someone. We need not demand 'Pes' (l. 1) and silence as Herod does, nor need we threaten our audience. Kindness is always heard eventually. So while Trump continues the performance of a despot that have been played before the people for centuries, we must not tailor ours on the same sources. Be less like Christ. Be heard.

NOTE: Greg Walker's anthology cited in this piece comes highly recommended and can be purchased here.

1 'The Play of Moses' in English Mystery Plays, ed. By Peter Happe (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1985) ll.67-74.

2 For those unfamiliar with medieval English drama, it is established practice to refer to the dramatic figures as personae rather than characters as, arguably, the idea of characterisation upon the stage had not yet fully developed. Natalie Crohn Schmitt's essay 'The Idea of a Person in Medieval Morality Plays' (Comparative Drama, Volume 12, No. 1 (1978), pp. 23-34) attempts in part to tackle this rather thorny issue and is worth reading.

3 'Christ Before Herod' in Medieval Drama: An Anthology, ed. By Greg Walker, (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2000), pp. 112-123, l. 4. Further references follow quotations in the text..

The Theology of Jacob and Esau

The Theology of Jacob and Esau

   An especially interesting mid-Tudor play is the Biblical interlude, Jacob and Esau. The play was printed in 1558, right on the cusp between Mary and Elizabeth’s reigns and, crucially, between the Catholic revival of Mary's reign and the full fledged Protestantism of Elizabeth's. In light of the date of this play's publication, in this post I will explore the arguments as to whether the play espouses a more Catholic or Protestant theology.

   The play is based on the story of Isaac’s son Esau who is robbed of his inheritance by his twin brother Jacob in Genesis 25 and 27. This may seem like an unremarkable biblical plot but the fact that it was printed in the year of Mary’s death and Elizabeth’s accession gives it inescapable political resonances. This is, after all, a play that is at its most basic level about succession. Jacob asks the starving Esau, ‘can ye be content to sell your birth-right to me?’¹ and their mother Rebecca conspires to ensure that ‘Jacob [may] have the blessing’ (4.2.6) of Isaac and therefore become Lord after Isaac’s death in place of his brother. Indeed, most of the last two acts are taken up by Rebecca’s plan to trick the blind Isaac into giving Jacob the blessing meant for Esau, thereby ensuring that Jacob should succeed his father. The play, then, in much the same way as the cycle plays of the previous century discusses issues of significant and dangerous contemporary importance through the smokescreen of biblical stories and imagery. Of course, Mary was not tricked out of her throne in the way that Esau was but what is important is not the detail of the story but the fact that it raises questions as to the legitimacy of succession at a time when Elizabeth had either recently taken the throne or was about to.

   However, the play is not just related to succession; it also advances an attitude to the religious changes of the preceding period. The nature of the attitude and whether it is primarily Catholic of Protestant is debated by various critics. The argument, in essence, centres around the prologue which states that ‘before Jacob and Esau yet born were,/ Or had either done good, or ill perpetrate:/ As the prophet Malachi and Paul witness bear,/ Jacob was born and Esau reprobate:/ Jacob I love (saith God) and Esau I hate’ (Prologue, ll. 8-12). Critics disagree as to whether this is, as Paul Whitfield White states, ‘moderately Calvinist in its view of predestination’² or in fact much earlier in its theology.

   In 1969, Helen Thomas suggested that there was no need to look to Calvin for the source of this predestination theology when ‘the Biblical story on which the play is based forms part of the lively controversy in the twenties between Erasmus […] and Luther on the question of free will and eternal predestination with no regard to the merits of man’.³ While more recent scholars such as White and Ephraim argue against this view, opting instead for the more conventional description of the play as Protestant in its theology, Thomas is convincing and it would be a mistake to dismiss her views entirely.

   Of course, the description of Esau as 'reprobate' may seem to be rooted in Calvinist theology but the OED cites reprobate being used to mean 'predestined by God to eternal damnation' as far back as c.1425 which would support Thomas' theory that the play's theology is linked to earlier Catholic theological debates. If Thomas is indeed correct and the play espouses an Erasmian theology, it can be placed securely in Mary’s reign and can therefore be seen not only as a comment on the succession but as a deliberate return to the Biblical model of the earlier cycle plays made possible by the presence of a Catholic monarch on the throne.

   I would like to end on the caveat that, despite the fact that I find Thomas' argument more convincing, the answer to the question of the play's theology will always be up for debate until new evidence should arise. Unfortunately, due to the lack of interest in Marian drama, new evidence seems unlikely to appear any time soon.

   NOTE: All of the essays referenced in this piece come highly recommended and were available on Jstor at the time of writing. Farmer's edition of Jacob and Esau, however, leaves a lot to be desired. It lacks line numbers and any substantial notes. A new edition is definitely required if anyone wanted to take up the challenge!

1 Anonymous, Jacob and Esau, in Early English Dramatists: Six Anonymous plays ed. by John S. Farmer (London: Early English Drama Society, 1966), pp. 1-90, 2.2.105. Further references follow quotations in the text.

2 Paul Whitfield White, ‘Predestination Theology in the Mid-Tudor Play Jacob and Esau in Renaissance and Reformation, Vol. 12 (1988), pp. 291-302, page 300. For a more recent proponent of this view see Michelle Karen Ephraim, ‘Jewish Matriarchs and the staging of Elizabeth I in The History of Jacob and Esau’ in Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900, Vol. 43, no. 2, (2003), pp. 301-21.

3 Helen Thomas, ‘Jacob and Esau – “Rigidly Calvinistic”?’ in Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900, Vol. 9, No. 2 (1969), pp. 299-213, page 210.   

An Alternative Top Five Scottish Books

An Alternative Top Five Scottish Books

   Recently the BBC ran a national survey to discover what, in the opinion of the public, were the best Scottish books ever written. Lewis Grassic Gibbon's Sunset Song (1932) was a worthy winner but it wasn't what I would have chosen as number one. With that in mind alongside the fact the I think the blog should also reflect my interest in Scottish literature as well as medieval literature, I thought I would write an alternative list. Some of my alternative top five were in the full list but didn't make it into the top ten but most didn't make the list at all.

   My criteria was slightly different to that of the BBC. To me, it was important that the author of the texts be Scottish. I rather doubt that Harry Potter, for example, can reasonably be considered Scottish literature.

   So, without further ado, here is my alternative top five Scottish books and my reasons for choosing them.

5) The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker by Tobias Smollett (1771)

   “The pills are good for nothing – I might as well swallow snowballs to cool my reigns – I have told you over and over, how hard I am to move; and at this time of day, I ought to know something of my own constitution.” (Page 5).

   This epistolary novel did not appear anywhere on the list, let alone in the top ten. I am not sure what the reason for this is. It is certainly rarely read and eighteenth century novels in general do not seem to appeal to the modern audience. Whatever the reason, its exclusion is a real pity.

   The novel depicts a family travelling through Scotland and England ostensibly on doctor's orders to cure the gout of the patriarch Matthew Bramble. The conflicting accounts of the events of the novel given through letters home from each of the characters are a great source of humour and often astute observations about contemporary life in England and Scotland in the first century after the Union of the Parliaments.

   The eponymous Humphrey Clinker, a stableman and the illegitimate son of Bramble, is a particularly amusing character and his various sexual adventures serve to give the novel a risqué edge that was surprisingly common in the eighteenth century.

   All in all this is a great example of an early Scottish novel. It is a little on the long side but definitely worth the effort.

4) Waverley by Walter Scott (1814)

   “The title of this work has not been chosen without the brave and solid deliberation which matters of importance demand from the prudent.” (Page 3).

   Of all the novels excluded from the BBC's list, this one surprised me the most. It is Walter Scott's first novel and arguably one of the first historical novels in English. It is actually rather shocking that a novel which spawned one of the most popular genres in popular literature didn't make the list.

   Not only is the novel a pioneer of genre, it is also a fantastic story. In the year 1745 Edward Waverley is sent on a journey from his home in the south of England initially to the Scottish Lowlands, then to the Highlands where he ends up joining the Jacobite uprising of that year. 

   Like Clinker, the novel explores the interplay between Scottish and English identities, presenting the Highlands as a place of otherworldly beauty typified by the stunning Flora Mac-Ivor. The wildness of the Highlands is set alongside the 'civility' of England and the question is asked as to which of these paths Scottish civilisation should take in light of the 1707 Union of the Parliaments.

   The novel is immensely topical now as Scotland wavers between decisions of whether Scotland and England's union should continue in the current political climate. Waverley asks whether the dual identity of Scotland as union member and as wild, untamed place, can ever be reconciled.

3) The Cone Gatherers by Robin Jenkins (1955)

   “It was a good tree by the sea-loch, with many cones and much sunshine; it was homely too, with rests among its topmost branches as comfortable as chairs.” (Page 1).

   This novel was included in the full BBC list at position 17 but I believe it should have had a much higher position. Written in 1955, the novel is set during WWII and depicts the deformed hunchback Calum and his brother Neil as they work in the private forest of a rich upper-class family to collect cones used to grow back forests depleted in the war effort.

  They are harassed by both Lady Runcie-Campbell, who dislikes their presence on her land, and by the gamekeeper Duror who projects his hatred of his morbidly obese wife on to the misshapen but kind Calum, eventually killing him.

   My belief that this novel deserves a much higher spot on the list is because it deals so closely and unabashedly with one of the most important issues in Scottish society. That of class. Lady Runcie-Campbell's hatred of the lower class brothers due to their lack of good breeding blinds her to Calum's kindness and, in turn, Neil's dislike of the upper classes and ingrained belief that those above him have nothing to offer but hatred and cruelty is just as damaging.

2) The Testament of Cresseid by Robert Henryson (c. 1508)

   “Ane doolie sessoun to ane cairfull dyte/ Suld correspond and be equivalent:/ Richt sa it wes quhen I began to wryte/This tragedie” (lines 1-4).

   The inclusion of this one is actually a bit of a cheat. It's not a novel but a poem. However, it has a strong narrative structure and exemplifies the fat that Scots have always been at the forefront of beautiful literature. It also, just, satisfies the criteria to be medieval and I think that medieval Scottish writing is extremely under-studied and under-appreciated.

   The poem tells the story of Cresseid from Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida who has been abandoned by her lover Diomedes and curses the gods for her misfortune. The gods take offence at this and, in a dream sequence, debate what her punishment should be. They eventually decide that the appropriate punishment is leprosy, robbing her of the beauty that led her to that position.

   The poem is a fascinating continuation of Chaucer's tale and shows that the often neglected Scottish medieval authors were well aware of and in conversation with their more famous English counterparts.

1) The Trick is to Keep Breathing by Janice Galloway (1989)

   “I watch myself from the corner of the room sitting in the armchair, at the foot of the stairwell.” (Page 7).

   The final book on my alternative list is Janice Galloway's utterly stunning The Trick is to Keep Breathing. Like The Cone Gatherers, it did appear on the full list at number eighteen. The novel is set in Glasgow and shows the struggle of its first person protagonist Joy as she struggles to deal with her mental health issues brought about by the death of her lover on holiday.

   The novel plays constantly with form and manages to mimic the disjointedness of a mind with mental health issues, bring the reader along with Joy for her exploration of her paranoid and suicidal thoughts as well as her experiences of being a woman in the persistently patriarchal Scottish society.

   Her disjointedness also follows novels like Clinker and Waverley in demonstrating the duality of Scottish identity. Just as the people of Scotland struggle to reconcile the identities of Scottishness and Britishness, so does Joy struggle to reconcile the different roles she must play which leads in part to her mental health issues.

   The novel is not only in my opinion the best Scottish novel ever written but also one of the very best examples of English literature.

Cymbeline Review

Cymbeline, directed by Melly Still (RSC - National Theatre 

Live): 'A Confident Adaptation' -★★★

   There's a lot to like in this confident adaptation of Shakespeare's rarely performed Romance, Cymbeline. In typical National Theatre style, no expense has been spared and the performance is teeming with extras, musical numbers and sumptuous staging.

   What stands out immediately are director Melly Still's casting choices. Oliver Johnstone as Iachimo gives a stunning performance that is at once villainous and vulnerable to a degree usually reserved for portrayals of Shylock or Richard III. Johnstone manages to make the key, essentially solo, scene in Act Two in which he creeps around Innogen's room at night humorous without losing a sinister sense of invasion. As well as this, his transition from amorous cad to apologetic coward is beautifully handled.

   Bethan Cullinane's Innogen is also worth note for an emotional performance in the latter half of the play which more than makes up for an overwrought first half. Her performance is crowned with a stunning scene in which she smears the blood of Cloten on her face, believing it to be that of her erstwhile husband. Cloten himself, played ably by Marcus Griffiths, injects some much-needed humour into the scenes at the English court and shares with Johnstone the fine balance between comic relief and sympathy.

   This being said, not every performance is brilliant. Hiran Abeysekera as Posthumus is alternately overwrought and listless, and Gillian Bevan as Cymbeline always appears more like a harassed mother than a regal queen.

   Bevan's performance brings me to what is a significant issue in the play – the fact that Still has made Cymbeline female. Gender swaps are not something with which I generally have an issue but I would suggest that this particular swap is poorly thought through. All Still has achieved here is to give one of the most significant and defiant female speeches in Shakespeare ('that opportunity…', Act Three, Scene One) and give it to a man. This seems counter intuitive. As well as this, a great deal is lost in the relationship between Innogen and the Queen (now the Duke). This is not to say that there is an issue with gender swaps in general; making Pisanio female allows Kelly Williams to bring a great deal of charm to a role that could easily have been just an afterthought.

   There are some other directorial changes that don't quite work. The post-apocalyptic setting deserves note. It could do with a bit more commitment from Still – Rome seems fine, after all. As well as this, it adds nothing to the play other than an excuse for fashionably eclectic costumes. The use of humming lights and freezing for soliloquies is also quite jarring.

   I will end with some notes on the experience of seeing the play in the cinema rather than the theatre. I have seen several of the National Theatre Live streamed performances and I have to say that this was not one of the most successful performances I have seen. This is chiefly due to the fact that many of the Rome scenes were spoken in Latin. While I applaud the effort, the subtitles projected on to the back wall were impossible to read.

   All in all this was a fairly good performance. The actors were a mixed bag and there were some poor directorial choices but these two facts did little to change the fact that this is a largely enjoyable adaptation with a lot to like and, with some months still to run, there is plenty of time to see it.

After a run at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Cymbeline transfers to London's Barbican Theatre from 31 October - 17 December 2016.

If an academic edition of the play is required then I recommend the Oxford World's Classics edition. It is the most recent good quality edition and has an excellent introduction by Roger Warren. I often favour the Arden Shakespeare editions but their Cymbeline was published in 1955 so should be avoided until it is updated. The Oxford edition can be purchased here.