BEESTON's BOYS and NEGOTIATIONS of SOVEREIGNTY in LATE CAROLINE DRAMA by SCOTT VENTERS Bachelor of Fine Arts in Drama / Bache
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BEESTON’S BOYS AND NEGOTIATIONS OF SOVEREIGNTY IN LATE CAROLINE DRAMA By SCOTT VENTERS Bachelor of Fine Arts in Drama / Bachelor of Arts in English University of Oklahoma / CUNY, Hunter College Norman, OK / New York, NY 1999 / 2009 Submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate College of the Oklahoma State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of MASTER OF ARTS July, 2012 BEESTON’S BOYS AND NEGOTIATIONS OF SOVEREIGNTY IN LATE CAROLINE DRAMA Thesis Approved: Maria Beach Thesis Adviser J. Kevin Doolen Lloyd Caldwell Edward Jones Sheryl A. Tucker Dean of the Graduate College ii TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page I. INTRODUCTION: FLESHING OUT THE BODY OF KNOWLEDGE WITH KNOWLEDGE OF BODIES .......................................................................1 II. ORGANS WITHOUT A BODY: THE TERRITORIALIZATION OF CAROLINE THEATRICS ....................................................................................16 III. THE PLAGUE AND NEW CONSCIOUSNESS: THE BIRTH OF A THEATRE ...........................................................................................................38 IV. COURTING THE COURT: GLAPTHORNE’S AESTHETICS AND THE EARLY YEARS OF APPEASEMENT........................................................68 V. POPULAR REVOLT: THE PRODIGAL SON AND THE LATER YEARS OF POLITICAL SATIRE . ....................................................................109 VI. EPILOGUE: A BODY AT REST? ....................................................................152 WORKS CITED ........................................................................................................154 APPENDIX ................................................................................................................166 iii CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION: FLESHING OUT THE BODY OF KNOWLEDGE WITH KNOWLEDGE OF BODIES On the morning of January 30, 1649, while Charles I of England was busy consulting with Thomas Herbert, his groom of the stool, in a locked chamber at St. James’s Palace, the leaders of the Parliamentary Commission for his trial and execution were on a desperate search for a proper and willing candidate to wield the fatal axe. Hugh Ross Williamson reports that thirty-eight sergeants who formed the ranks of Hugh’s, Hacker’s, and Fairfax’s armies were gathered “and then offered 100 pounds and the promise of rapid preferment in the army to any two sergeants who would come forward as volunteers for the post of headsman and headsman’s assistant. All the sergeants refused, though not with the same emphasis” (80). Grudgingly accepting this unanimous refusal, the Commissioners then approached and threatened Richard Brandon, the common hangman, to assume the distasteful role. Though fearful for his safety, “Brandon . refused absolutely to do what was asked of him” (81). Some scholars contend inconclusively that Brandon’s refusal was only a public ruse to cloak a deed that was undertaken anonymously. The identities of the two masked men who ultimately agreed to sever the sovereign’s head from his body are still shrouded in conjectural mystery, though many theories that implicate Richard Brandon, William Hulet, and George Joyce, among others, have been promulgated. The actual name of the headsman, however, is not of primary importance. Of more 1 significance are the instances of denial both to enact and publicly claim responsibility for regicide. This reveals that the King’s material body still carried a symbolic potency as a reification of the state despite socio-political counter currents arguing for a Commonwealth rid of monarchical tyranny and two civil wars that resulted in countless deaths of those either enlarging or proscribing the powers invested in that body. Revisionist historians continue to overturn notions of Charles’s overwhelming unpopularity and, as Sean Kelsey argues, that the “trial was [a] simple prelude to regicide.” Instead, Kelsey asserts that “his execution was in fact the unlooked-for outcome of a proceeding undertaken to quite opposite ends” (585). Throughout the trial there hovered the possibility of settlement if only Charles could have recognized the legitimacy of the Long Parliament, and even as the judgment was passed, its endorsement was not unanimous. The King was, to many, still a king. It would be hard to imagine that the King’s person could be rhetorically and univocally maintained as a polarized site of popular antipathy in the midst of such ambivalence about his execution. Charles’s chief nemesis in the civil wars, General Thomas Lord Fairfax, could not endorse the proceedings against the King and excused himself from attending the trial where his wife was heard to expostulate that not “half or a quarter” of the people of England accused Charles of high treason and that “Oliver Cromwell is a traitor” (Williamson 40). And the events of 1641 provide evidence to support Lady Fairfax’s asseveration of the King’s innocence. Just seven years prior on the 25 th of November, Charles ceremonially processed through the streets of London to massive encomium in an entertainment entitled England’s Comfort and London’s Joy : “the people responded with loud and joyful acclamations, crying God Bless and long live King Charles and Queen Mary, and their majesties reciprocally and heartily bless[ed] and thank[ed] the people with as great expressions of joy” (qtd. in Cust 314). On the eve of large-scale sectarian strife, Charles’s corporeal being was still received by most as the natural, immovable head of state and locus of religious authority. However, in the midst of the common counter argument 2 that the King was being misled by “evil, popish counselors,” was an effort by a minority of MPs to distinguish and separate loyalty owed to the body politic from the loyalty owed to the King’s natural person. Acts of justice and protection are not exercised in his [the king’s] own person, nor depend upon his pleasure, but by his courts and ministers who must do their duty therein though the king in his own person should forbid them; and therefore if judgements [sic] should be given by them against the king’s will and personal command, yet they are the king’s judgments. (Rushworth 3: 588) This line of argumentation aimed to abrogate the medieval doctrine of the King’s Two Bodies as characterized by Kantorowicz; a doctrine in which “The King’s Two Bodies thus form one unit indivisible, each being fully contained in the other” (9). Whatever impurities or imperfections that are contained in the body natural are purged by the body politic, and the two form a purified whole. Charles, coming from a line of monarchs who continually stressed the Divine Right of Kings, clung closely to the traditional Two Bodies concept. He responded to rhetoric against the authority invested in his corporality by stating, “allegiance [of] all our good subjects . is due unto the natural person of their prince, and not to his crown or kingdom distinct from his natural capacity” (Larkin 2: 773-4). And the difficulty in finding an executioner as late as 1649 would seem to suggest that this medieval view endorsed by Charles had deep, recalcitrant roots for many English. The same ambiguity surrounding the King’s body cannot be located surrounding representations of either the king or the polity, as both were open to interrogation, ridicule, and violence. Puritanical iconoclasm had swelled in the main current of thought and in 1643 sixty members of Parliament voted to destroy the contents of the Catholic Queen Henrietta Maria’s chapel. John Clotworthy, Henry Marten, and a band of troops broke through the chapel door, “struck the painted image of Christ’s face ‘with terrible words’, then struck the face of the Virgin ‘and then, thrusting the hook of his halberd under the feet of the crucified Christ, [Clotworthy] 3 ripped the painting to pieces.’ The fragments were thrown in the Thames” (Purkiss 244). Of course, this is an extreme example of violence against an identifiably Catholic forum recessed within an Anglican nation just after the start of the Civil War, but the paintings are also the iconic property of the monarchy and should reverberate with some sanctity. The assault is one example among many of sublimated violence against the King’s body, thus being redirected at his wife’s property in lieu of his person. It is not that Caroline culture regarded the body as inviolable. Quite the contrary, it was an ethos steeped in martyrdom. The mortification and immolation of the flesh was a testament to faith on both sides of the Protestant-Catholic divide. Hugh Latimer, in a letter to Henry VIII dated 1530, pithily encapsulates the valorization of martyrdom, “where the word of God is truly preached, there is persecution, aswell of hearers, as of the teachers” (qtd. in Monta 37). By 1684 there were nine complete editions of Foxe’s Acts and Monuments , more commonly known as Foxe’s Book of Martyrs , and more than 50 works covering the persecution of Catholics (Monta 1). Persecution was, in essence, a requirement for the validation of personal belief and proclaimed identity. In an early modern culture that prided itself on “self-fashioning,” the negation of the self, whether through dismemberment, other forms of death, or suffering persecution, seemed equally important in claiming authority (Marshall 4). If the sovereign is the embodiment of ideology that subtends the socio-political unit, “a guarantor of the social order” as Susanne Scholz surmises (10), then he should be a reflection of this core value of “martyrdom,” or at least an example