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Tim Antonides
Dr. R. Strickland
English 378
6 August 2002
Restoring Amends: New Comedic Convention in Shakespearean Comedy
In “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” chaos seems to run amok. The lovers flip back
and forth from love to detestation. There is intense passion and then the deepest revulsion.
Yet, Puck assures us that “Jack shall have Jill” and “Naught shall go ill.” Everything will
work out for the best. We just need to allow events to run their course.
For many readers and viewers of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy, this is the salient
thread that runs through his work. Through its own agency, romantic love will somehow
conquer all barriers and transcend all limitations. Love is the all-powerful, the all-knowing.
Omniscient and omnipresent. It unfolds events as it sees fit, and the human figures in its grasp
are essentially along for the ride.
Yet, a closer examination reveals a much different set of dynamics. There are many
different agents at work in his comedic plots (as well as in some tragedies). It is especially
helpful to note the influence of classical New Comedy in much of Shakespeare’s work. The
New Comedic plot frequently places lovers in a moment where they must contend with the
power structure. Boys have to risk their futures and very lives to gain the love of girls whom
they are forbidden to have. Girls must risk banishment or even death to leave their families
and run away with their lover. In such a structure, the obstacle to be overcome is embodied in
a figure from an older generation—perhaps parental, perhaps aristocratic. Such a figure is
often occupying a marginal place in the society, perhaps as a result of class structure or
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perhaps because he/she has chosen to exist on the fringes. Regardless, this character is
engaged in a critical role.
In a sense, New Comedy embraces the value that individual fulfillment is to be
pursued at all costs (a prescient idea to later modernity). As Beiner suggests, this should be so
even if the individual characters are too blind to pursue their true romantic desires (31).
Whether it is blindness or fear that impels, there is a necessity in New Comedy for another
character to enter the fray. Frequently, it is an individual from an older generation who acts as
a “go-between” to allow the romance to be realized. This character acts sometimes as a deus
ex machina to bring resolution in a seemingly impossible situation (Miola 142). As a result of
his/her involvement, the lovers are married and the marginalized boy enters into acceptance in
the culture. Essentially, the events in the play are driven by the play’s ending, rather than
being led to it (Jensen 21). Using his/her contextual location, the go-between must remove the
obstacle so that the lovers can find fulfillment. Jack must have Jill.
Though this resonance of New Comedy is a typical plot pattern in many
Shakespearian plays, it functions differently in each. This is certainly true of “A Midsummer
Night’s Dream,” “Romeo and Juliet,” and “The Merchant of Venice.” All three plays utilize
New Comedic conventions but in distinct ways. In doing so, each play produces particular
dramatic and thematic effects.
The central romantic conflict in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” involves Lysander,
Demetrius, Helena, and Hermia, but the New Comedic convention works in Lysander and
Hermia’s romantic relationship. The two have declared their love for one another, but
Hermia’s father Egeus has forbidden their union—giving preference to Demetrius. Egeus is
the “blocking agent”—the representative of an older generation who stands in the way of
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fulfillment. Demetrius stands waiting in the wings to claim his legal right. This is certainly a
classic New Comedy situation. As such, the play requires a figure who will become involved
in the problem and facilitate a pleasing resolution. The fascinating aspect of this play,
however, is that the go-between characters are actually part of a loosely hierarchical structure
and that their success in getting the lovers together comes inadvertently out of their whimsical
interference rather than from intentional strategy. In this sense, the obstacle that the lovers
face is breached unwittingly. Nonetheless, it has been facilitated. As in most New Comedy
forms, the facilitators are marginal members of society. In this case, they are of course
invisible to the society and only act within the unilateral paradigm that exists between the
physical and spiritual worlds.
Oberon, Puck, and the fairies work together to perform mischief on the lovers, but it is
Oberon who seems to be the primary agent. He and Titania have already facilitated the love of
Theseus and Hippolyta. Now he turns his attention to the four lovers. He sets things in motion
by asking for the “little western flower” where “the bolt of Cupid fell” (2.1.165). A potion
will be procured to begin the manipulation. At first, the purpose is to distract Titania so that
Oberon can steal away the changeling boy, but events unfold much differently. Strikingly, the
potion seems to function as a symbol of irrationality, but it eventually leads to clarity and
realization (Hassel 65). As a result of the potion, the lovers realize their true loves but also
their depravity, fickleness, and selfishness. And yet they are led to the place where they need
to go. Oberon proves a curious agent in this enterprise, as his own relationship to Titania has
succumbed to fairy life’s inherent lack of principle and responsibility. Yet, he will
unintentionally direct events that culminate in the bond and responsibility of marriage.
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Puck also joins in the manipulation of the lovers. We don’t truly get a sense of
whether or not he entirely approves of the endeavor, however. He is whimsical and merry
initially but seems to understand more of the gravity of the situation later, triumphantly
declaring his wish for all to be amended for. It is Puck who nearly ruins everything by placing
“idleness” in the wrong set of eyes (Bloom 51). He bumbles through some of his tasks and
seems to lead the lovers to their destruction. Yet, he makes things right and unknowingly
helps the lovers overcome their obstacle. Like his master Oberon, Puck is willing to get
involved in the confusion of the lovers but finds that all works out for the best, despite (and
partly because of) their efforts. They are playing in the dangerous realm of magic and spirit
(Schleiner 68) but find that rational justice is ultimately served.
In line with the conventions of New Comedy, Lysander is ultimately accepted into the
mainstream of nobility. All the magic potion and interference of the fairy world has led all
four lovers to find their love. Most importantly, Demetrius discovers his deep passion for
Helena, making it impossible for Egeus to “prosecute” his right. The obstacle is removed.
The way in which the New Comedic convention is used in “A Midsummer Night’s
Dream” creates an interesting thematic effect. Essentially, love is portrayed as a
transcendental force but still requiring some human impetus. Unlike other Shakespearean
comedies, the main characters face both the disapproval of society and the malevolence of the
spirit world. There seems no hope for a healthy resolution. It is only in the mix-ups and
mistakes that events work out for the best. There is an underlying notion that deeply
passionate romantic love can somehow thrive both through the intrusion of humankind and
despite its injurious purposes. It is love as grace—being bestowed on the recipient despite the
distortion of his/her own depravity, and yet as a result of it. This is not a Christian redemptive
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grace, however. It is one entrenched in the human sexual instinct, and the agent of redemption
(though supernatural) is ultimately human-centered (Kay & Jacobs 62).
The dramatic effect of the way in which New Comedy functions in the play’s plot is
striking as well. The lack of a clear directive purpose in the interference of the spirit world
creates a pervasive dissonance for the reader/viewer. There is no salient direction in which
redemption will take place. The lovers’ destruction and salvation seem thinly separated, at
once enslaved to the whims of the supernatural and yet not quite under their control. This
tension drives the text to its conclusion. The lovers come out of the chaos in a haze and yet
see themselves more clearly than ever.
“Romeo and Juliet” shows the influence of New Comedy as well but in distinct ways.
Both Friar Laurence and Juliet’s Nurse are marginal members of an older generation, and they
act out of the scope of their authority to help Romeo and Juliet overcome an obstacle—the
feud between their families. The couple is in love at their first meeting and they are compelled
to be together. However, their families’ mutual hatred prohibits any such relationship. They
face banishment or even death if they pursue their passion, but that does not inhibit their
desire. In fact, it seems to intensify it. A go-between needs to become involved.
Friar Laurence functions (as does the nurse) in the role of a sympathetic servant. He is
a righteous character with well-meaning intentions, but his mistakes in attempting to facilitate
the romance and marriage of Romeo and Juliet are fatal. He has chosen isolation from the
secular world and yet he interferes in worldly affairs. This is an interesting paradox, though
his motivation seems to be to heal the hatred between the families and to demonstrate his love
for the couple. In many ways, the Friar overreaches and goes too far against the natural course
of events (Halio 43). The results are disastrous.
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Friar Laurence acts in a number of ways to help bring about the lovers’ union. He
performs the wedding ceremony and uses his position to ask for divine blessing on the event:
“So smile the heavens upon this holy act” (2.6.1). This is the most dramatic of his actions, but
there is more that he does to break down the barriers. Some of these deeds become necessary
as a result of the problems that result after the marriage. We cannot entirely blame him for
these disasters, as they stem from the lovers’ impulsive acts, and the Friar has reminded them
to be moderate and rational in their love—echoing the medieval ideal of subordinating one’s
romantic love to reverence for God (Porter 15). He advises Juliet to deceive her parents and
he comes up with the plot to prevent her from marrying Paris. Again, through all this he urges
the couple not to be reckless. They must not allow overwhelming passion to overwhelm
reason. The remainder of the Friar’s “sympathetic servant” actions sees him trying to repair
the consequences of his earlier acts, culminating in his tardy arrival in the churchyard.
In all things, the Friar seems to have noble intentions. He operates in the classic sense
of a New Comedic go-between, using his position in society to try to bring Romeo and Juliet
into the mainstream of society within the context of a healed relationship between their
families. He is working for restoration at individual and societal levels. However, his efforts
fail. The obstacle of family hatred is not overcome until the couple is dead.
As a go-between in the play, the Friar fits the definition of a marginal member of an
older generation. He is, however, self-marginalized through his choice of position in the
clergy. He will spend his life in monastic seclusion. His cultural position is certainly marginal
but it is one of power, different in many ways from that of other Shakespearean characters
operating in the same vein. Friar Laurence is an ultimately influential agent, yet impotent in
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avoiding disaster. As Northrop Frye points out, we may feel that he is interfering too much in
the play’s action but he is situated in a tragedy and his plans are destined to fail (Sandler 31).
Juliet’s Nurse is the other “sympathetic servant” in the play, but the way she performs
that role is an interesting contrast to Friar Laurence. Her intentions are certainly less
admirable. Though some critics may claim that she is trying to do what’s best for Juliet and
her family by attempting to convince her to marry Paris, the text is quite clear that her actions
are self-serving (Wells 13). Though she has some regard for Juliet’s affection and security,
she has a noticeable delight in secrecy, discord, and even betrayal. She is somewhat of a
grossly “carnivalesque” character—at one moment full of joyous laughter and affection, in the
next showing treacherous malice and a despairing surrender to fate (Knowles 73).
The Nurse acts as the go-between by first of all serving as Juliet’s confidante and
messenger. She supports her passion for Romeo. She procures a rope ladder and ensures that
Romeo gets the ring. She also gives updates to Juliet on Romeo’s whereabouts. However, she
often seems to be setting the stage for catastrophe and then taking delight in the resulting
suffering. She gets the vital information to Juliet too late and switches allegiances from
Romeo to Paris, declaring Romeo “a dishclout to him” (3.5.219). Later, she accepts Romeo’s
bribe and changes her attitude toward him. In Juliet’s company, she displays enthusiasm for
Romeo and then transfers it to Paris when Lady Capulet is present. The Nurse is thoroughly
enigmatic as a go-between. Her seeming function does not fit the form she uses. She is a
wedding song and a lament all at once (Whittier 38). Good-natured and cruel, devoted and
treasonous, her motivation seems mean-spirited and selfish in juxtaposition to Friar Laurence.
Though these two sympathetic servants differ widely in the manner in which they
perform their roles, they both contrast with those in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” The
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Friar and the Nurse act out of their own self-motivation. There is an agenda here that isn’t
about poking fun at “What fools these mortals be” (MSND, 3.2.115), but rather it’s about the
characters’ impetus and inner desires. The Friar is essentially motivated by a father-like love
and Catholic morality, while the Nurse is driven by a tragic resignation to fate and a curious,
almost sadistic delight in disharmony.
The thematic effect of the way in which New Comedy functions in “Romeo and
Juliet” comes through in concepts of fate, providence, and passion. We get the sense that
things will turn out fatally if passion is not restrained. Friar Laurence warns in Act Two of the
danger of death if passion overruns reason and God’s Will. Of course, the lovers’ death comes
partly as a result of the servants’ actions (e.g., Friar Laurence’s advice, the Nurse’s slow
delivery of information), but there is a tangible premonition that the lovers’ passion would
destroy them if left unchecked. The go-betweens, despite their intentions and interferences,
cannot change the fate of two lovers who have let their passion burn unbridled. Providence
will not be a slave to irrational passion. Despite the intervention of other marginal characters,
the lovers are redeemed in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” In “Romeo and Juliet,” they are
destroyed.
Dramatically, the roles of the Friar and the Nurse provide tremendous tension. They
appear always one step behind the fatal build-up of events, and at the same time are in a sense
making those events happen. The result is a vertiginous narrative where fate and passion
engage in constant combat against a backdrop of premonition and foreshadowing (particularly
with Friar Laurence as the source).
“The Merchant of Venice” operates in distinctive ways as it utilizes New Comedic
elements. These elements are seen most clearly in the romance of Bassanio and Portia, and
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this relationship will be closely examined in how New Comedic structures are employed.
However, it is valuable to first of all look at one of the subplots within the play—the
forbidden love of Jessica and Lorenzo. This romance seems somewhat political in nature.
Lorenzo, like those around him, displays little respect for Jewish custom and belief. He finds
no moral difficulty in eloping with Jessica without her father’s permission, since Shylock is a
Jew. In fact, Lorenzo feels justified in doing so as his intended marriage to her will ensure her
conversion to Christianity. He is perhaps as drawn to Jessica herself as he is by the prospect
of converting her. Jessica, spiteful of her father and all he stands for, takes the initiative in
planning the elopement with Lorenzo. She has also arranged the many secret meetings with
him. She is unprincipled and immoral. Yet there is romantic love between the two, albeit with
a number of political overtones. There is a clear obstacle in their relationship, however.
Christians and Jews are not to be joined. The English historically viewed the marriage of a
Christian and Jew as equivalent to sodomy or bestiality (Sokol 166). Clearly, a “sympathetic
servant” character is needed to facilitate their union.
Launcelot (and to a lesser degree, Gratiano and Salerio) serve in this function.
Launcelot delivers messages between the two lovers, albeit in return for money. As well, he is
able to take Jessica aside and tell her that Lorenzo will come for her. This is no mean feat.
Interestingly, he later teases Jessica and suggests that she is “doomed” because of her
romance with a Christian. After being scolded by Lorenzo for this, he relents and admits his
tomfoolery. Launcelot is a paradox. He appears imbecilic and farcical yet is quite astute. As
the go-between, he primarily performs the role of messenger. Gratiano and Salerio also assist
in the fulfillment of Lorenzo and Jessica’s love, but they are essentially helpful friends caught
up in a dangerous enterprise rather than New Comedic facilitators.
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The plot structure of New Comedy is more apparent in the romance of Bassanio and
Portia. Bassanio is hopelessly “out of his league” in courting Portia. He is a Venetian—living
in a culture of mercantilism and pragmatism. It is a conservative culture where notions of
romantic love are repressed in the pursuit of trade and capitalism. Portia lives in Belmont—a
world of poetry and music. It is a culture that attempts to romantically transcend the
narcissism and avarice of a commercialized Venice. As Lyon suggests, we cannot see
Bassanio and Portia as separate from this location in the Venetian and Belmont worlds, but
we must not look at the behaviors as just a result of these conditions either (141). There is a
sort of “double vision” at work in “The Merchant of Venice.” There are political dynamics
that exist as a result of a romance that juxtaposes two opposing ideologies, but there are also
the lovers as individuals with individual values and sensibilities.
Bassanio is in many ways a prodigal son (Rosenheim 202). He has squandered much
of his inherited wealth and has little to show for it. He is aware of this and admits that he has
“disabled mine estate” (1.1.123). There is a tangible sense that he feels the guilt of this in
Portia’s presence. Yet he is able to cover this with an inbred ease of manner. He is always in
control of his bearing. Portia responds readily to him and perhaps his consistent frankness
disarms her. Even in explaining how poor he has really become, he makes no apology but
instead exerts a degree of controlled authority:
Gentle lady,
When I first did impart my love to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Rein in my veins—I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true. (3.2.252-6)
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Yet, Bassanio needs to be rescued. But it is Portia who will ultimately rescue him. She
cannot do this, however, without the help of Antonio who becomes the go-between in the
play.
Portia, in contrast to Bassanio, is a person of wealth and restraint. She acts with
wisdom throughout the play. She displays a profundity of reflection, particularly in her
conversations with Nerissa, but she is also shrewd as evidenced in her use of the caskets to
choose a suitor. It seems ill thought to develop a relationship with the wasteful, down-on-hisluck Bassanio, but it is important to remember that Portia is not concerned with materiality.
The world of Belmont is about art and aesthetics. She gladly gives to others and is forgiving
of Bassanio’s earlier profligate actions. The conventions of romance supersede any concerns
with his economic status.
The obstacle in “The Merchant of Venice” is, however, still economic. Bassanio needs
money to be able to woo Portia. It is a matter of logistics. There is confusion, however, about
his primary motives. Does he want Portia’s love primarily or is he attracted more by her large
dowry with which to re-establish his fortunes? Ultimately, the former becomes paramount but
it takes some time to get there.
The New Comedic go-between is needed and is embodied in Antonio. He is a world
weary but highly respected merchant. His ships travel the world and he is in many ways a
cornerstone of the community. Citizens trust him for wisdom and public virtue. Yet his only
real love is for Bassanio. Like Friar Laurence, he has great affection for a marginalized young
lover and will intervene to help him overcome a formidable obstacle. The intervention is his
offer of a pound of flesh as security for the loan from Shylock. Bassanio cannot pursue the
love relationship without the money. Antonio’s act is a selfless assurance of Bassanio pursuit
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of self-fulfillment (Tanner 84). Antonio’s love is so deep and his generosity so limitless that
he does not just stop at offering his life in the pound of flesh contract. Near the play’s
conclusion, he stakes his soul on Bassanio’s fidelity to Portia, despite everything that has
happened (Lyon 128).
Next to this, Bassanio seems a selfish egoist. In order to pursue a romantic
relationship, he allows his friend to risk his life. However, as the lovers did in “A Midsummer
Night’s Dream,” Bassanio learns to understand the full nature and consequences of love. In
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” this newly acquired wisdom comes inadvertently from the
actions of the fairy world. In “The Merchant of Venice,” it comes indirectly but tangibly
through Antonio’s sacrifice.
Portia rescues Bassanio. She asserts herself as the champion of the ideal of love,
which includes both mercy and eroticism (Beiner 196). In the “trial by caskets,” she clearly
designs the course of events so that Bassanio will choose the correct one. In doing so, he
learns to fully understand love and its hazards in choosing the inscription, “Give and hazard
all.” We see a transition in Bassanio from his selfishness early on to his much deeper
understanding of what deep love entails and risks. Antonio’s actions in securing the loan is
the impetus for this new understanding and it is Portia who completes it, both in the casket
puzzle and in her actions at the trial. She uses the ring episode to teach him about the full
meaning of sacrifice, getting him to realize the importance of keeping his promise never to
give up the ring. Some critics see Portia as a Messiah figure and this is certainly an interesting
comparison. Portia rescues Bassanio by revealing what rational, Venetian-style justice says
and then showing God-like mercy at the trial (Fergusson 119). She shows him that love
necessarily involves mercy and also deep feeling. In essence, Bassanio overcomes barriers
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and joins the mainstream of society, but not before learning enormous truths about the nature
of love.
As the go-between, then, Antonio is really part of a larger act of redemption that also
involves Portia as an agent. In this sense, “The Merchant of Venice” is unique in its
employment of New Comedy. There is the character self-realization resonance of “A
Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the echoes of the Friar’s sacrificial love for Romeo and
Juliet, but it is the lovers themselves who eventually act as redeemers. With all the political
and personal agendas in the play, it is still Antonio’s simple act of love that leads to
Bassanio’s self-realization through Portia’s instruction. And this is the thematic significance
of how New Comedy is used in “The Merchant of Venice.” It brings about a refreshed
perspective on the nature of affection and passion. Love is realized in its deeper forms but
also in its most simplistic. It is unconditional. Sacrificial. Redemptive.
There are dramatic effects as well. As the audience, we feel the urgency and
desperation that results when a character sacrifices everything out of intrinsic devotion.
Antonio’s pound of flesh pledge begins a thread of tension. There must be resolution to his
act. It may destroy only himself or it may ruin all. It may even bring pure justice and
restoration. But it is an act that occupies our consciousness in the various moments of the
play.
It is tempting to read Shakespearian drama with stock characters in mind, and there are
certainly identifiable patterns in how certain character types function. Yet, the more one
closely examines the use of New Comedic characterization in Shakespearian romance, the
more one finds deeper layers of meaning. Go-between characters facilitate the movement of
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plot, but they also bring their own unique thematic and dramatic nuance. This, as much as
anything else, provides a universal appeal to Shakespeare’s text that transcends context.
Or generation.
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Works Cited
Beiner, G. Shakespeare’s Agonistic Comedy. Toronto: Associated, 1993.
Bloom, Harold, ed. William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. New York:
Chelsea House, 1987.
Charlton, H.B. Shakespearian Comedy. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge UP, 1979.
Fergusson, Francis. Trope and Allegory. Athens, GA: U of Georgia P, 1977.
Greenblatt, Richard, ed. The Norton Shakespeare Based on the Oxford Edition. New York:
Norton, 1997.
Halio, Jay L., ed. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Newark: U of Delaware P, 1995.
Hassel, Chris R., Jr. Faith and Folly in Shakespeare’s Romantic Comedies. Athens, GA: U of
U of Georgia P, 1980.
Jensen, Ejner J. Shakespeare and the Ends of Comedy. Bloomington, IN: Indiana UP, 1991.
Kay, Carol M., and Henry E. Jacobs. Shakespeare’s Romances Reconsidered. Lincoln, NE:
U of Nebraska P, 1978.
Knowles, Ronald. “Carnival and Death in Romeo and Juliet.” Shakespeare Survey 49 (1996):
69-85.
Lyon, John. The Merchant of Venice. Boston: Twayne, 1988.
Miola, Robert S. Shakespeare and Classical Comedy. Oxford: Clarendon, 1994.
Porter, Joseph A. Critical Essays on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. New York: G. K. Hall,
1997.
Rosenheim, Judith. “Allegorical Commentary in The Merchant of Venice.” Shakespeare
Studies 24 (1996): 156-210.
Sandler, Robert. Northrop Frye on Shakespeare. New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 1986.
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Sokol, B.J. “Prejudice and Law in The Merchant of Venice.” Shakespeare Survey 51 (1998):
159-173.
Tanner, Tony. “The Merchant of Venice.” Critical Quarterly 41 (1999): 76-99.
Wells, Stanley. “The Challenges of Romeo and Juliet.” Shakespeare Survey 49 (1996): 1-14.
Whittier, Gayle. “The Sonnet’s Body and the Body Sonnetized in Romeo and Juliet.”
Shakespeare Quarterly 40 (1989): 27-41.