Law and Justice {week 9 response}

I’ve been doing a lot more reading this week that’s been specifically geared towards Merchant and, more particularly, Portia. It really is time (soon, very soon!) to stop reading and start writing. The semester is coming rapidly to a close, and I am having trouble not drowning in the articles and chapters. My thoughts are getting lost in a sea of other people’s arguments,  and I’m feeling uncertain about what I have to contribute to this conversation.

Hopefully I will have something to say, and it will hopefully go a little like this. In the very vaguest of maps for the final paper I am envisioning, I am looking to:

1. tackle the idea of equity. In a legal sense, what is its history in England?
2. How is the notion of equity figured in MOV?
3. Equity is (basically) the legal sense of the idea of mercy in this play. It is set in opposition to the notion of justice, but this opposition seems too simplistic. I think this will be the meat of my paper -- figuring out exactly how this tension works.
4. If equity is the prerogative of the monarch, then I would like to at least begin considering in the “second half” (or so, ish) of the paper, how this figures into the history plays where the monarch is so central?

Last week, I spent some time with “the quality of mercy,” and I’m really not even close to scratching the surface.

I’m interested in the idea of compulsion in this speech. It begins with Portia’s line “Then must the Jew be merciful” (IV.i.201, emphasis added). Shylock’s answer responds directly to this word “must”: “On what compulsion must I? Tell me that” (203-4). I’ve read a couple different arguments about these lines -- that Portia slips up with the use of “must,” that Shylock misreads “must” as compulsion when really what Portia means is that if Antonio is to be saved, then the only course is for Shylock to be merciful, that the beauty of “The quality of mercy” is that it is completely spontaneous because of this question and answer. The line could certainly be read in a number of ways, but the important argument of the speech is that mercy must be freely given; it cannot be compelled. Whether she is correcting herself or not, Portia is certainly correcting Shylock. There can be no compulsion: “The quality of mercy is not strained” (204). Does this mean that mercy is without strength or power, however?

The “quality of mercy” stands in contrast to “the force of temporal power” (211, emphasis added). Mercy cannot be “strained” or compelled; it is therefore the opposite of forceful. Mercy stands “above this sceptred sway” of forceful, earthly power (214). 

Many critics have commented on Portia’s turn back to the concept of justice at the end of this speech. They often suggest that Portia undercuts her arguments about mercy or that she is even vengefully drawing Shylock away from the idea of mercy and insidiously suggesting that he should push for justice. [Got to find and footnote these!] I would like to suggest, however, that she is returning not specifically to the idea of justice but to the idea of compulsion. If Shylock continues down the path of justice, then the court “Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the Merchant there” (228, emphasis added). By impressing upon Shylock that he is using force, compelling the court to act against Antonio, she is offering a reminder of the umbrage Shylock took at the idea of being himself forced to be merciful. It is a final gesture towards mercy, whose quality is decidedly “not strained” (204).

All in the speech points towards ease and gentleness, including my favorite phrase of the play, “When mercy seasons Justice” (218). The meaning of “seasons” here is “to qualify by a beneficial admixture; to moderate, alleviate, temper” (OED, 1d). When mercy moderates or tempers the harshness of Justice, it softens it. It is the “quality of mercy” to do this, “not strained” but qualified, softened, alleviated. Once again, this is the sense which Portia tries to leave us with. She has spoken “To mitigate the justice of thy [Shylock’s] plea” in hopes of softening his cries for justice into a gentler act of mercy.

This week, I used the Applause First Folio edition edited by Neil Freeman. 

Law and Justice {week 8 response}

In working towards my final paper, I've begun compiling an annotated bibliography. There are piles of books everywhere, and I just invested in a file box to keep all the article print-outs and photocopied chapters. I'm trying to balance research, reading, and writing in these last few weeks of the semester so that my seminar paper won't be a complete nightmare on May 4!

In the interest of balance, therefore, I've done some free-writing on "The quality of mercy" from Merchant with some pointed questions at the end thinking towards 2 Henry VI.

***********************

On a simplistic level, in the quality of mercy speech, the text is pitting the notions of mercy and justice against each other. They feel at first like opposites, but they are not entirely mutually exclusive concepts. Although Portia suggests that if we proceed exclusively “in the course of Justice”,  mercy is not possible, she also suggests that it is indeed possible, even desirable, for mercy to attenuate justice: “when mercy seasons Justice” (IV.i.195). This is after all what she is arguing.

Mercy also is seated in a power relationship. Mercy is offered to and begged by those in a position of weakness. Antonio hopes for mercy; he is entirely in Shylock’s power. Portia acknowledges this relationship: “‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest” (186). Those who can offer mercy have power over those who seek it. Mercy is most powerful in the hands of the most powerful. It places spiritual power in the hands of those who already possess earthly power, most notably, of course, “The throned Monarch.” Mercy is the prerogative of kings, or rather when kings exercise mercy it has a more powerful effect than when a commoner does. Perhaps Portia hopes to sway Shylock with this idea of kingly power?

In this speech, Portia clearly argues for the preeminence of mercy. It is above all the other symbols of power the king possesses: his crown and scepter: “But mercy is above this scepter’d sway” (191). Although crown and scepter are the visible symbols which identify the king’s position and power, they are less significant. If the king shows mercy, he shows himself to be beyond “temporal power” (188) and more “likest God’s” (194). A crown, a scepter, a throne, awe, majesty, dread, and fear are also subject to the power of the divine, which is specifically identified not with Justice but with mercy.

It is worth noting that Portia herself does not take on the power of distributing mercy. She deflects it to the Duke -- the seated monarchical power in Venice. “Down and beg mercy of the duke.” Antonio becomes conflated in this position as well since Shylock’s wealth is to be split between the treasury of Venice (represented by the Duke) and Antonio. This is where I become frustrated by arguments of Portia’s “con.” I don’t see her as acting entirely out of self-interest. If she were, she could take Bassanio’s suggestion that she “Wrest once the Law to your authority” (213). The law must take precedence. Portia is here, then, identified with the law. The law itself is identified with justice. Mercy is seated in the human (divine?) figure of the monarch. If Portia speaks for the law, then mercy is not her prerogative.

Looking to the early histories (2 Henry VI in particular), what then do we see as the king’s relationship to the law? In the courtroom of Merchant, the figure of Portia seems to separate the voice of the law from the voice of mercy, which is the voice of the monarch. The voice of King Henry VI, however, is weak. He seems strongest when banishing Suffolk (unmercifully?), yet this is at the force of Warwick and the commons. What is the king’s relationship with justice and equity? Is he unjust in the hearing of accusations against Gloster? Is he just in his banishment of Suffolk? Where does Henry exercise mercy? Although it feels like he preaches it, where does he enact it?

**Line numbers are from Bevington, Complete Works, 4th edition. Capitalizations are preserved from First Folio.

Reading List

Since heading back to school last year, I've noticed that I have developed a pretty consistent trend over the course of the semester. I start out reading like crazy (which never really lets up), and perhaps I also have an overarching idea that I'm interested in pursuing throughout the class (which sometimes changes drastically). Around midterms (usually just after I've written my midterm paper), I start researching with my final paper in mind. I've read around enough to have a good (if sometimes basic) idea of what's out there, or at least where I should start looking. And I've refined my "overarching idea" enough to make a final paper out of it.

That's about where I am right now in my Emergence of Modernism class and in my directed research. I spent most of Friday trolling library online catalogs and databases. I've got a list of books to pick up and a pile of articles in my downloads folder to sift through - exciting! I'm working towards writing on the legal notion of equity and its historical place as the purview of the monarch. It's the perfect marriage between The Justice Project and the beginnings of The Kingship Cycle. I still have to do the legal part of the research, so I'm hoping for some help researching on West Law and Lexis Nexis. Here are a few of the titles on my reading list:

Law and Empire in English Renaissance Literature by Brian C. Lockey

Rhetoric and Law in Early Modern Europe by Victoria Kahn

The Poetics of English Nationhood, 1590-1612 by Claire McEachern

Shakespeare and the Legal Imagination by Ian Ward

Treason by Words: Literature, Law, and Rebellion in Shakespeare's England by Rebecca Lemon

Metadrama in Shakespeare's Henriad by James Calderwood

Forms of Nationhood by Richard Helgerson

I'd better put some tea on and get reading!

Law and Justice {week 6 response}

It is post-Spring Break. I have finally recovered from two sinus infections and two Shakespeare IN THE RAW productions. It is time to get back on track with my reading responses.

I am a bit sad and a bit nostalgic to leave behind The Merchant of Venice and Measure for Measure, but I am also feeling invigorated to completely switch gears to the early history plays. I have a much larger question in mind for my dissertation project of The Kingship Cycle (Part 1, Fall 2012: 1, 2, 3 Henry VI and Richard III and Part 2, Spring 2013: Richard II, 1 & 2 Henry VI, and Henry V) about the education of a king. Looking for questions of law, equity, and justice feels like a good basis for this.

This week I've been focusing my reading on 1 & 2 Henry VI. I'm interested in the legality of Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York's claim to the English throne over our titular king of these plays, Henry VI. Throughout these Big 8 history plays is the lingering of question of legal succession to the throne. In order to make some semblance of sense of the line of succession:

Edward III (incredibly fertile)

||

Richard II (deposed)

||

Henry IV ("usurps")

||

Henry V (succeeds)

||

Henry VI (succeeds at 9 months old)

||

Richard, Duke of York

(claims throne according to descent from Lionel, Duke of Clarence,* never crowned)

||

Edward IV (son of Richard, Duke of York)

||

Edward V (never crowned, deposed)

(one of the famous Princes in the Tower allegedly murdered by Richard III)

||

Richard III

This is possibly the most simplistic and rudely basic line of succession that I can draw in a blog post without proper tools.

* Here's what I want to be more specific about. The claim actually proceeds from before Richard II. Edward III had seven sons. His eldest son (also named Edward and more famously known as the Black Prince of Wales) would have succeeded Edward III, but died. His son Richard succeeds as king. But because Richard II is #1) usurped and #2) dies without heirs, the claims to the throne following are messy (to put it lightly).

Henry IV descends from Edward III's fourth son, John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster. Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York and his son Edward IV claim the throne through Edward III's third son, Lionel, Duke of Clarence:

YORK  The third Son, Duke of Clarence, 

              From whose line I claim the Crown, 

              Had Issue Philippe, a Daughter,
              Who married Edmond Mortimer, Earl of March:
              Edmund had Issue, Roger, Earl of March;
              Roger had Issue, Edmund, Anne, and Elianor. 

SALISBURY This Edmund, in the Reign of Bolingbroke,
              As I have read, laid claim unto the Crown,
              And but for Owen Glendower, had been King;
              Who kept him in Captivity, till he died.
              But to the rest. 

YORK                         His eldest sister, Anne,

              My Mother, being Heir unto the Crown,
              Married Richard, Earl of Cambridge, 
              Who was to Edmund Langley, 
              Edward the third’s fifth Son’s Son;
              By her I claim the Kingdom:
              She was Heir to Roger, Earl of March, 
              Who was the Son of Edmond Mortimer, 
              Who married Philippe, sole Daughter 
              Unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.
              So, if the Issue of the elder Son
              Succeed before the younger, I am King. 

WARWICK What plain proceedings is more plain than this?
              Henry doth claim the Crown from John of Gaunt,
              The fourth Son, York claims it from the third: (II.ii)

This excerpt is taken from ADK Shakespeare's prepared performance script, based on First Folio.

York's argument convinces Warwick and Salisbury. Is it supposed to convince the reader/the audience? The average audience member of Shakespeare's day would certainly have a greater level of familiarity with the line of British kings than today's average American audience member. The claim is filled with such intricacies, twists and turns, that Shakespeare no doubt thought his average audience member would not perfectly follow this history. Warwick's response, "What plain proceedings is more plain than this?" aims for (and likely receives) a hearty chuckle. Of course, these proceedings are far from plain! Warwick then reduces the claim to the more digestible germ: Henry VI claims "the Crown from John of Gaunt, / The fourth son, York claims it from the third". Insert collective "Oh!" here.

The basis of York's argument is a legal one. His claim must be legal if he hopes to have full support. My question is what kind of law and legality do we have in these plays (specifically 1 & 2 Henry VI, but even more broadly through 3 Henry VI and Richard III too)? Do we have strict readings of the law such as Angelo and Shylock respectively advocate in Measure and Merchant? Or are these technicalities, such as what Portia finds in the bond? Or are either of Henry VI's and York's respective claims to the crown too liberally interpreted?

So much of what I am reading is clearly setting up events-to-come. What I want to look for as I continue to read:

• the legality of establishing a claim to kingship
• the contrast of liberty / justice (like what we saw in Measure and Merchant)
• who is interpreting law and how? And whose side is the play on?

Law and Justice {belated Week 4 response}

With the successful closing of The Justice Project this past weekend, it is time to re-focus my energies on text, on reading and writing. I've been very wrapped up in production, but I hope the productions will sharpen my readings on Merchant and Measure.

The mid-term of the semester is almost here, so I'm hoping this week to have a potential germ for my final paper. Thus far, I've been doing a lot of thinking about the character of Portia, but I'm not sure that I want to continue this train of thought through for the rest of the semester. In performance, I played Portia in Merchant and also doubled as Escalus in Measure. This double was really fascinating, as Escalus acts as judge in the majority of his scenes in the play. Perhaps I'll want to draw out the connection of these two characters?

I am also interested, however, in the second half of this semester's reading as I move into some of the political plays. In "The quality of mercy," Portia talks of the power of kings on earth, and this seems to me a good jumping-off point for reading these early history plays. How do we see "earthly power" played out in the Henriad plays and in Richard III? Portia speaks abstractly of "the mightiest," but in the history plays that's who we spend our time with. What should the "throned Monarch" do with these concepts of law, justice, and equity (or mercy) that we've spent so much time thinking about and staging in The Justice Project?

Law and Justice {belated Week 3 Response}

This post is coming to you a few days later than my usual Friday response. I took a break from my regularly scheduled reading because we began rehearsing for The Justice Project just a week ago today. (How is that possible? It feels as though it's been at least a month.) We then opened our first production of Measure for Measure on Friday night and The Merchant of Venice on Saturday. So reading, writing, and scholarship gave way to practice.

We were faced with questions of each character's arc, where to stage Belmont and where to stage Shylock's house, how to navigate placement of chairs, should we use a prop or mime it? With only twelve hours to stage each production, we were out of time to spend with learning lines, with looking up shades of meaning, with notating scripts. It was show time.

During Shakespeare IN THE RAW rehearsals, we strive for 100% accuracy with the text, and that is where the vast majority of our rehearsal time is spent. Speaking the text through, holding if a line is spoken incorrectly, then fixing the error, and speaking it correctly. It can be a frustrating experience for an actor who has learned even a single word wrong or made an inversion early on in their memorization process. There have been tears on more than one occasion. But of course (as we love to quote Hamlet), "The play's the thing" and all of our preparation and rehearsal is in service of the play.

My own preparation is heavily academic. (Shocked, right? I know.) Before I can even do anything as actor, however, Patrick or I spend innumerable hours preparing the script. We do not cut any of the text, but we format it preserving Folio capitalizations, punctuation, and some spelling. We also have very often to make choices between various editions of the text. Do we go with Folio 1 or with Quarto 2? Decisions, decisions! Once the script is finally prepared, I switch over to "actor mode." I scan the verse in my script. I look up meanings galore -- even (or rather especially) of words that I know. What is the real difference between "dread" and "fear"? Imagine my frustration with the Lexicon when it defined each word with the other! I highlight in different colors word repetitions. For The Justice Project, I used orange to highlight all the words associated with the law: justice, mercy, law, bond, slander, sentence, etc. My script has a lot of orange blobs in it now. This work gives me a strong base of support, of comprehension, of through-line when it is time to put the script away and focus on the acting ensemble around me.

I am a big believer in marrying scholarship and practice. I wouldn't be juggling a doctoral degree program with running a theatre company if I weren't. A production will always be stronger when supported by the rigor of academic study and questioning, but at the end of the day, these plays were written for the stage, to have life breathed into the words, to be performed by a talented ensemble of actors. I can't say how proud I am of The Justice Project, which has so beautifully balanced academic scholarship and theatrical practice. These productions are not only smart and clearly delivered, but they are also emotional powerhouses. This weekend, our audience laughed out loud. They wept. They cheered and clapped, because they were moved. Which tells me ... we did our job, and we did it well.

Antonio (Julia Jones) and Portia (Tara Bradway)
Photo by Michael Bernstein.

Law and Justice {Week 2 Response)

I'm working through several pieces in The Law and Shakespeare, edited by Constance Jordan and Karen Cunningham. I'm finding the articles a little uneven so far, but I do quite like this one by Thomas C. Bilello on “Law, Equity, and Portia’s Con.” While I don't agree with his arguments, he very clearly explains each step in his argument and I find his explanations of Aristotle very helpful. Also, my citations to The Merchant of Venice are from the Applause First Folio, prepared and annotated by Neil Freeman.

Bilello is interested in the tension between law and equity, a concept which he defines through an Aristotelian lens. I want to spend some time looking at his descriptions of Aristotle since I’m unfamiliar, but before I do, I want to look at Bilello’s argument:

He writes, “I will argue that Portia’s judgment has little to do with justice or equity. Instead, she is motivated more by her desire to protect Antonio, her new husband’s confidant. Indeed, by inserting herself by artifice into the legal proceedings to enforce the bond, Portia converts the law into an instrumentality of her will” (110). I do not agree with this assertion. If Portia was disinterested in justice, she would make such a heated response to Bassanio in the courtroom when he begs her, “Wrest once the Law to your authority. / To do a great right, do a little wrong” (4.1.239-40). If she were truly concerned only with saving Antonio, she could do so here. She could take this opportunity to take up the Duke’s call who threatens on his power “to dismiss this court” (XX). But she does not. She replies (I think with passion), “It must not be, there is no power in Venice / Can alter a decree established: / ‘Twill be recorded for a President, / And many an error by the same example, / Will rush into the state: It cannot be” (4.1.242-5). This, I think, is Portia’s concern. Yes, she hopes to save Antonio, but of equal if not greater importance is upholding the law. Antonio must be saved without damaging that statutes of Venice.

Back to Aristotle. Bilello breaks down Aristotle’s definitions thus. The law is a set of “general rules” which operate mechanically. Their operation is considered “legally just,” but in particular cases the application of justice can become problematic. Equity acts as a balance in such cases by requiring the law to be interpreted “as if the lawgiver ‘were present’ and ‘had known of this particular case’” (110-1). He goes to look at an early modern text published in approx. 1530 called Doctor and Student by Christopher St. German in which St. German considers the concept of equity. He argues that equity is universal and that, in agreement with Aristotle, it must “follow the ‘intent of the lawe,’ rather than the strict ‘wordes of the lawe’” (111).

For me this is the balance happening all over Merchant, most especially through the character of Portia. It is easy to the strict words, but it not always easy interpret the intent of those words. Isn’t this what is happening with the casket test? Portia does not necessarily know what her father’s intention was; she is frustrated by the text of his will. “Is it not hard, Nerissa” she asks (1.2) -- yes, of course it is. We are invited to feel compassion and pity for Portia’s predicament. We don’t understand why any father would constrain his daughter in this kind of test. To my mind, this seems less like a test for Portia’s suitors than a test for Portia herself. The onus of the test does indeed fall to her own interpretation. This is why so much seems to be written on Portia’s “con,” yes? She does end up bending the letter of the will, but she may still uphold its intent. Nerissa tells us the most about the will itself and the lottery of the caskets. She consoles Portia that the correct casket “wil no do bout never be chosen by any right-ly, but one who you shall rightly love” (1.2.223-5). The syntax is slightly ambiguous here, since Shakespeare often exchanges “who” for “whom.” Will the casket be chosen only by one who shall rightly love Portia? Or by one whom Portia shall rightly love?

This is a question I want to pursue throughout the course of the play. What is Portia’s relationship to strict law and to the law’s intent? How does it change? I have a lot of thoughts about this relationship in the courtroom, of course, and in the final scene of the play. In a nutshell I see Portia’s arc through the play as coming to realize the importance of equity, of finding the intent of the law. This is perhaps her dilemma in Acts I and II. She is focused on the strict words of her father’s will. In the scenes with Morocco and Arragon (which bear closer examination), she does not sway their decision. It is during Bassanio’s test that this changes. To the man she actually wants to choose rightly she slips strong hints, but she does not say in uncertain terms “You shall choose lead.” Yes, there’s gray area in regards to the hints she drops, but here Portia learns to value equity over strict legal justice. Is not possible that this is the true test her father sets for her?

This is where I’d like to pick up next week -- posing this question throughout the courtroom scene and then through the final scene in the play. I’m very invested in debunking the cynical view of Portia that I’m finding in most contemporary productions of this play. The interpretation of Portia is one of the hinge-pins of the play, the other being the portrayal of Shylock. It seems like most modern productions will not allow both characters to be sympathetic. If we sympathize with Shylock, we must hate Portia. But I think a fully sympathetic Shylock destroys the narrative that the play intends, precisely because we are not supposed to hate Portia. In terms of mere number of lines, this is Portia’s play -- she speaks close to 600 lines of text, whereas Shylock speaks about 350. He appears in five scenes; she appears in nine. They certainly counter each other, but structurally Portia is our hero and Shylock is our villain. And I really have to stop sidetracking myself ... the question for next week (in addition to my reading becoming more focused on Measure) is to look at Portia’s relationship with law and equity in the courtroom scene and in the final scene.

On an unrelated note, I just found this book on Amazon. Kill All the Lawyers?: Shakespeare's Legal Appeal. How did I miss this? And what else can I order to make it to $25 and free super saver shipping?

Law and Justice {Week 1 Response}

This semester I'm doing an independent study on "The Law and Justice in Shakespeare," and each week I am planning to write up a short response to one of the many things I'm reading. This week I had a little too much on my plate to get to everything that I read, but one of the chapters really pushed my buttons more than anything else. Here's my response to Kenji Yoshino's chapter on Portia of The Merchant of Venice -- "The Lawyer." It's rather disorganized, and there's so much more that I have to say about it, but for the sake of getting some ideas on the page ... well, here it is. I hope you enjoy my semester of ramblings!

Yoshino’s chapter on Merchant is driving me up the wall. He fixes Portia under the heading of “The Lawyer,” a categorization with which I wholeheartedly disagree. Portia does not advocate for either the plaintiff or the defendant. She offers an opinion on the case according the present statutes of law. This is the action of the judge, not the lawyer.

His desire for a “darker vision” and a “skeptical portrayal of Portia” is frustrating and, I think, completely contradictory to the structure of the play (31). Portia is the hero of this comedy, operating almost a deus ex machina for the titular character. Of course the play does not end happily for Shylock, but Shylock is the comic villain of The Merchant of Venice. And in comedy, the villain is not rewarded, not lauded, not loved -- unless we love to hate him. I would suggest that Shylock, while not rewarded, is treated with some degree of mercy and not only the justice that he so strongly demands.

Justice for Shylock’s actions -- which are indeed an attempt at killing an individual (“manifest proceeding” IV.i) -- would be, as Portia describes, the loss of his property and possibly his life. It is the mercy of the Duke that pardons his life, turns the seizure of his property to a fine, and the mercy of Antonio that turns the other half of his lost property into a “deed of gift” for his daughter and Lorenzo. I do think, from a 21st century sensibility, that the requirement of baptism goes too far and is not a merciful act, but it is not difficult to see that Antonio could certainly see it as mercy.

I would like to contest his reading of “The quality of mercy” at another time, but that would take too much space at present. Something I did find valuable from Yoshino’s chapter is his breakdown of the three tests which divide the play. His division, however, of whose trial each stood for was, for me, more questionable. He classifies the ring test in Act V as a test devised by Portia to entrap Bassanio. I think, however, that this is a test for Portia -- is she able to practice the mercy she’s preached in Act IV?

My sense of this play is that it weighs in balance mercy and justice, the spirit of the law and the letter of the law. I see this as Portia’s struggle throughout the play. The letter of the law does not always take into account the human spirit. This seems to be the lesson that Portia’s father wishes to impart. The casket test is not just for the suitors; it is for Portia as well. She finds a way to operate within the strict construction, the letter of the law, but she nevertheless is able to hint to Bassanio about what the correct choice will be. Does she therefore violate the spirit of the law? I would venture to say no, as who can imagine a father so draconian, who could raise such a daughter as Portia?