MASTERS THESIS M-2903
RUDISILL, Cecil Wayne Ali ANALYSIS OF THE MARTYR AS A DRAMATIC CHARACTER IN THREE PLAYS BY EDWARD AL3EE: TINY ALICE, THE ZOO STORY, AND A DELICATE EALANCEl
American University, M.A., 1971 Soeech-Theater
University Microfilms, A XERQ\ Company, Ann Arbor, Michigan
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. AN ANALYSIS OF THE MARTYR AS A DRAMATIC CHARACTER IN THREE PLAYS BY EDWARD ALBEE; TINY ALICE, THE ZOO STORY. AND A DELICATE BALANCE
by
Cecil Wayne Rudisill
Submitted to the
Faculty of the College of Arts and Sciences
of The American University
in Partial Fulfillment of
the Requirements for the Degree
of
Masters of Arts
Theatre History
Signatures of Committee:
Chairman :
Dean of the College Date: [5 ~ , / 9 V / Date; /I?/
THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY The American University Washington, D. C. JUN 22 1971
V 36/
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CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTION ...... 1
II. AN EXTENDED DEFINITION OF MARTYRDOM ...... 9
III. TINY A L I C E ...... 15
IV. THE ZOO STORY ...... 36
V. A DELICATE BALANCE...... 51
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 65
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INTRODUCTION
In a New York Times article on November 13, I966, Harold Clurman
states that during his lectures abroad he was asked his opinion of Edward
Albee •vdio was the man, or the name, among American dramatists who aroused
the greatest interest. His answer, beyond a few generalizations was
"Albee is 38; I shall be able to offer you a more considered judgement
when he is 581"^ At 38 Ibsen had not yet written A Doll's House, Ghosts,
An Enemy of the People, The Wild Duck, and most of his other prose plays—
all written after he was 50. At 38 Shaw had not yet written Man and
Superr°T., Pygmalion, Heartbreak House, Saint Joan— all written alter he
was ^5. The point is that Albee is a talented young playwright in the
process of growth.
Albee has won much critical acclaim: î«îac: Lemer of the New York
Post states "Albee is the freshest and firmest young talent writing for
the American stage today.Cleve Bames of The New York Times calls Albee
"the finest American dramatist of this century."^ And frequently in the
press he is described as an O'Neill, a young Strindberg, or a northern
Tennessee Williams.
^Harold Clurman, "Edward Albee," New York Times, November 13, I986, p. 16.
^Max Lemer, "Review, " New York Post, April I6, i960, p. 12 D.
^Cleve Bames, "Review," New York Times, September 13, I966, p. 8 C.
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Albee*s actual critical awards attest his reputation: in 1963 he
was awarded the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award for the best play of
the year; the Outer Circle Award for Outstanding American Playwright of a
Broadway play; the Tony award for the Best Play; in appreciation of his
distinguished literary career, the National Academy of Arts and Letters
elected him to membership in I966; in 19^7 he received the Putlizer Prize
for his play, A Delicate Balance. These honors have come to Albee in spite
of his short career: as a playwright he has worked only a little over a
decade.
Before Albee started writing plays, his life had not been very dis
tinguished. When he was two weeks old, he was taken out of a foundling
home in Washington, D. C., adopted by Reed and Frances Albee, the heirs to
a celebrated vaudeville fortune founded by Reed Albee*s father, Edward
Franklin Albee, and named Edward Franklin Albee III. He rather unenthusi
astically attended various fashionable private schools— Lawrence, Valley
Forge Military Acadeny, and Choate— and he was briefly (l9^ - ^ 7) a student
at Trinity College. On receiving a bequest from his grandmother in 1950,
he left hone, worked at odd jobs (as an office boy, a counterman, and a
Western Union messenger) in New York, tried to write poetry and fiction,
attended innumerable plays, and, for nine years, shared extremely modest
living arrangements with a young conç>oser, William Flanagan.
Just before turning thirty, Albee decided to prove himself by taking
a few weeks to write his first play. The Zoo Story, a short play that was
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first performed in 1959 in Germany at the experimental branch of the
Schiller Theater of West Berlin, the Werkstatt. Early the next yeix, it
opened Off-Broadway in New York, on the same bill with Samuel Beckett’s
Krapp’s Last Tape; a warm endorsement frœi Tennessee Williams stimulated
business and helped to avert a threatened closing, and the two plays ran
for nineteen months. In this conpelling little drama two strangers with
nothing in common meet on a park bench and discovered how they both are
isolated individuals : Jerr;' because of his desire to make contact with
society and Peter because he has been absorbed into society’s complacency.
Even t h o u ^ The Zoo Story’s main theme is the problem of communication,
Albee has blended many traditional Christian symbols into the play. These
symbols, viewed in their entirety reveal The Zoo Story as a m o d e m morality
play depicting the suffering and sacrificing of a martyr.
In April i960 a second short play, Ihe Death of Bessie Smith, had
its world premiere in German at the Schlosspark Theatre in West Berlin.
It was not seen in New York until its production Off-Broadway early in the
following year. Set in Memphis in 193T, it has to do with the death in an
automobile accident of the Negro blues singer Bessie Smith, but she never
appears onstage. Instead, the emphasis falls upon her rejection by white
hospitals and upon the portrait of a vicious white nurse who likes Bessie
Snd th'^s music but remiorselessly teases her admirers and is obviously
incapable of the love embodied by the singer and her songs. Because of the
incidents around Bessie Smith’s death, she becomes a martyr for her black
people.
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A very short play. The Sandbox, opened Off-Broeidway in May 196O. It
shows the death of a perky grandmother, the only sympathetic member of an
otherwise tiresome family. In The American Dream (1961) the little family
of The Sandbox reappears : a dominating Mommy, an emasculated Daddy, and a
saucy, rebellious Grandma -vbom the others humiliate. A neighbor comes
calling and so does a handsome young man who identifies himself as the
American Dream; he is the identical twin of a child previously adopted and
destroyed by Mommy and Daddy.
Albee then set himself to answer one of the Broadway showbiz ques
tions of the moment: "Can Albee write a full-length play?" He had already
replied that all my plays are full-length. But as it happened, his first
long play turned out to be Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, a popular and
critical success running for nearly two years. The play is a violent dis
play of frank sexual references and constant verbal flagellation.
Thereafter, Albee wrote full-length plays for Broadway. The next to
be staged was actually written before Virginia Woolf— The Ballad of the Sad
Cafe, a dramatization of Carson Me Cullers' novella. This drama about the
strange attachment that binds a strapping, self-reliant woman, her rather
feckless husband, and a dwarf is climaxed by a wrestling match between
husband and wife that is essentially a contest for the dwarf's affections.
It opened in the fall of 1963, ran for approximately four months, and did
not notably contribute to Albee's fame. Tiny Alice opened at the end of
1964, with Sir John Gielgud playing a lay brother "vbo is summoned to a
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mysterious house, marries a wealthy but equally mysterious lady whom he
meets there, and finally is deserted by her and her strange followers. It
was a puzzling and controversial play. The protagonist resembles Christ,
Job, and Faust, and his martrydom seems to be a cruel cosmic joke. Tiny
Alice was much talked about, but even the controversy kept it on Broadway
for only a little more than five months. Early in 1966, Malcolm, adapted
from the novel by James Purdy, opened and, after seven performances,
closed. This was an antifeminine parable with a vengeance about an inno
cent young man \dio is destroyed by his encounters with women and dies worn
out. Albee who had warmly defended Tiny Alice against all comers, accepted
this failure stoically.
The dramatist’s reputation was some\diat restored by A Delicate Balance
(1966), concerning a family disrupted by a sudden visit from two lifelong
friends fleeing a sudden, strange, and indescribable feeling of fear ^eathY.
The hosts are made to see themselves: the husband and wife who still feel
guilt over the small son who died; their frequently divorced daughter,
homeless herself, and so resenting the idea of giving a home to the intruders;
and the wife’s sister, who has taken refuge in drink and speaks the best
lines in the play. A Delicate Bai an ce ran a little more than four months in
New York, but a subsequent tour made it a commercial success. When it won
the Pulitzer Prize, the Pulitzer Committee was widely assumed to be responding
to feelings of ..guilt over its failure to honor Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Eveiything in the Garden, which opened late in I967, was adapted by Albee
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from a British play of the same name by the late Giles Cooper. Albee had
Americanized Cooper’s cynical black comedy about suburban wifes who become
prostitutes to earn extra money and made it more serious and less enter
taining. Originally, it was a satire on universal venality; in Albee’s
version, it became the tragedy of a tormented husband who discovers his
wife’s secret.
Albee’s next plays were experimental short plays that recalled his
early writing— Box and Quotations frcan Chairman Mao Tse-tung, staged early
in 1968 at the Arts Festival in Buffalo, New York
The first is a monologue by an unseen speaker about the decline of
civilization. In the second, we hear this monologue again, and we listen
to three others as well— an old lady reciting a tiresome, hackneyed poem; a
middle-aged lady describing her racy life to a sleepy clergyman; and Chair
man Mao reading from his little red book maxims that comment upon the
decline of the West.
His next play. All Over, premiered March 1971. The story concerns
friends waiting for the death of an old man who is dying.
Albee ’ s themes throughout his works from The Zoo Story to All Over
portray characters who are uneasy, without comfort, unhinged. They lack a
spiritual resting place. They find no solace because they seek in vain for
genuine substance in orthodox fedths, but gain few genuine convictions.
Although his characters rarely exhibit genuine religious convictions,
they do reveal strong influences of the Christian religion. This influence
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is portrayed dramatically in the use of the martyr. His dramatic martyr
is not always that of the historical orthodox Christian, but of a contem
porary martyr, often one tho witnesses social causes.
Albee’s ability to present plays of shocking social comment -thich
reflect present-day thinking in part accounts for his popularity with the
young people. The social milieu of today has provided a rich framework
for the dramatic martyr, because events such as the assassinations of John
and Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and Medgar Evers— have
so conditioned the audience to expect men \ibo witness a cause to be martyred
for it.
In this study I shall emalyze the concept of martyrdcsa, based on
historical examples which help to formulate au extended definition of
martyrdom. The idea of the martyr as a character in Albee’s plays has been
hinted at by several critics in their reviews. However, to date, the
subject has not been adequately studied. It is, therefore, the intention
of this study to show that Albee used the character of the martyr as a
intergal part for the meaning in his plays. This study has been limited
to three of his plays: The Zoo Story, Tiny Alice, and A Delicate Balance.
These three plays have been selected because they present a particular type
of a martyr, that of the Christ figure and are representative from three
periods of Albee’s first decade of writing. This analysis of Albee’s use
of the martyr and of religious metaphor centered around the martyrs should
help to explain the conçlex symbols found in the plays.
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This essay is organized into two peorts : the first part discusses
emd formulates an extended definition of martyrdom; the second part
analyzes the criteria established in the extended definition of marytrdcm
as employed in Albee’s plays.
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AN EXTENDED DEFINITION OF MARTYRDŒ4
Most studies which analyze literature fr of view regard religious martyrdom as a form of sexual masochism. Generally, a host of references are offered to prove that sexuality unconsciously determined the psychic life of many Christian martyrs. The modern psycho logists, Schjelderup sad Menninger, and others agree in this concept with many earlier ohse^-vers. Their papers give the impression that they con sider martyrdom simply as a glorified expression of sexual behavior instead of a "phenomenon co-determined, among others, by t.ie hidden influx of sensual factors."^ A Catholic legend regarding St. Francis illustrates this point. For many years St. Francis passed his manhood in sacred ccnteaçlation in the chapel, Portiumcula, next to the Church San Maria near Assisi. One day he felt an intense and increasing sexual desire which tortured him so that he rushed outside into the snow and rolled himself in a thombush of wild roses. Then a miracle happened; the dew of his blood made the green sprout, and in the snow, roses blossomed with petals sprinkled blood-red. To this day, in memory of St. Francis’ victory over the impure spirit, the nuns of Assisi sell pressed roses, the ibite petals bearing the stigmata of the saint. ^Theodor Reik, Masochism in M o d e m Man (New York: Farrar, Straus), p. 2hS. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 10 .temporary literature contains many /examples of sexual desire repressed throu^ pain to reach atonement. Two examples from Edward Albee’s plays are the characters, Jerry in The Zoo Story and Brother Julian in Tiny Alice. Jerry, desiring confrontation with society, suffers murder-suicide in reaching atonement, •vbile Brother Julian dies in the posture of crucifixion. In both cases Jerry and Brother Julian, tormented by an influx of sensual factors for sexual excitement, reach atonement through pain. Jerry’s sexual excitement is a desire for a homosexual partner while Brother Julian’s carnal pleasures with Alice reach orgasmic pleasure during heightened religious rapture. Both end in death. Psychological research supports the validity of such ein interpreta tion. Reports of the patristic writers and of martyrs confirm it; sexual excitement was sometimes increased by the very pain of atonement. These reports are exceptions to the religious belief and intent of the orders; however, they undoubtedly occurred. The pain is meant to stop the sexual excitement. However, only few adult men in conteup)orary times are likely to apply such drastic measures of defense against the sexueil impulses as did St. Francis. No longer do miracles intervene. No fresh roses blossom in the snow any more. Some extant writings reveal that the saints, ascetics, and mnnVs created temptations from their very fasting and penitentieil exercises. The history of the ascetics of the Old Church tells us that the fi^t against Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 11 incontinence was frequently unsuccessful. According to Catholic legends. Saint Jerome describes his suffering from sensuality in the loneliness of the desert, with nothing but scorpions and wild animals as companions. The self-castigations grew heavier with all the saints and ascetics : Benedict rolled himself in thorn hedges, Marcarius sat naked on an ant-hill, Anthony flagellated himself incessantly. In 1 these descriptions, often from the saints themselves, the great importance of the fantasies, frequently growing into clear hallucina tions, for the excitement becomes obvious. It was not always obvious whether the vision came from God or from the devil, ■vbether it was meant to console or to tempt the saint. One of the saints, Catherine of Siena, has indicated with subtle psychological insist the criteria which made her decide these questions. She offers the explanation that the devilish vision first creates joy, finally, however, disgust and confusion. The divine vision creates fear first, leading up to security and ultimately to sweet 2 wisdom. The first drives toward lust; the second toward virtue. This explanation illustrates the theological expression a criterion for Martyrdom. The experience of the martyr or saint can be summarized as follows : the saint flees sexual pleasure; he is afraid of the punishment which threatens him; however, he inflicts pain on himself; pain a self-punishment leads to atonement and repentance. ^W. H. C. Prend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church (New York, Anchor Books), p. 248. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 12 Three main criteria designated as indespensable in martyrdom are established by translating the experience of the martyr into scientific- psychological language; The criteria are: l) "the special significance of the fantasy, 2) the suspense or anticipation factor, and 3) the demon strative feature. A discussion of these three points as they apply to martyrs will clarify our concept of the martyr. To understand the first criterion, the special significance of fantasy, we must investigate how the Church throu^ its bishcps, the wardens, and the community emphasized, again and again, Christ’s suffering and death as a prototype. Instead of individual fantasy, such as a saint’s sufferings, we find in the Church’s teachings the great collective preparation for fantasy, which merges the individual with the divine figure by identifica tion. Out of this preparation arises a tremendous longing to emulate the prototype, to win pain and the glory of martyrdom in his name. The preparation goes so far as to prescribe the answers before the court for the professing Christians. It is obvious that these preparations were intensified by the description of the punishment threatening those weak in faith or the apostates, and the rewards in store for those strong in faith. The martyr will rein eternally with Christ; he will enjoy eternal bliss; his life blood provides the sole key to paradise. Annihilation, self-abasement and glory march hand in hand. Suffering becomes a promise ^eik, 0£. cit., p. 352. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 13 of coming joy in heaven. The deepest degradation coincides with the greatest triumph— the martyr being crushed rejoices in victory and in the price he has won. The second criterion, suspense or anticipation, not only expresses itself in the postponement of the premium of pleasure until the other world but also shows up details by which one’s own suffering is graduated, divided, and prolonged. Ultimately the upmost agony actually coincided with the joy of paradise experienced in imagination and at the same moment the martyr breathed his last breath, he experienced the ecstatic idea of bliss and the humiliated martyr enjoyed his triumph. The anticipated punishment of the cruel torture is incorporated in the imagined triumph. The third criterion, the demonstrative feature, is no less obvious. Even though many of the saints live their lives in isolation they eargerly sou^t a willing audience who admired their heroic behavior in the torture. These spectators were present from the first actions of the martyrs, from the confession before the tribunal, to the very last, to the call in the circus : "Christianos Ad Leones I" The very word %]artyr" means "witnessing a confession." The reading of the reports on the martyrs offers a convincing impression that desire for publicity plays an increasingly important role. It lay in the inten tions of the developing Church to make known what the martyrs had professed in blood and fire. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 14 These three criteria— the special significance of fantasy, the suspense or anticipation factor, and the demonstrative feature— are all found in the martyrs of Edward Albee’s plays. The theme of martyrdom serves as the symbolic core of meaning in most of his plays. Jerry in The Zoo Story humiliates himself by confessing to Peter a series of gro tesquely pathetic pictures of his life culminating in the admission of his homosexuality. Because Peter cannot comprehend or empathize with Jerry's situation, Jerry physically attacks Peter which ends in murder- suicide. The suffering of the murder-suicide, similar to the suffering of the martyrs, is the old theme of human isolation and salvation throu^ sacrifice. Julian in Tiny Alice admits that his life-long wish is to be of service to the Church and to die as a martyr, bathed in the blood of sacrifice. And in A Delicate Balance, it is Claire who says "... There are so many martyrdoms here." Claire is referring to the death of the child, Teddy; to Agnes' death wish; to the death of the illusion of friend ship of Keurry and Edna; Julia's self-punishment; and her own escapt into alcohol. All of the preceding examples illustrate some facet of the three criteria found in martyrdom, but it should be noted that the three criteria do not necessarily occur collectively in every individual exasple of martyrdom but are general features of the martyr-attitude. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. CHAPTER III TINY ALICE When Tiny Alice premiered in 1964, the critical response was amazingly contradictory. Some critics called it "a masterpiece," "one of the capstones of the drama's long and adventurous history," "every minute a totally engrossing evening," eind "establishes Albee as the most distin guished American playwright to date." Others deprecated Tiny Alice as "prolix," "ugly," "wilfully obscure," "an intellectual shell game," "a set trap that has no bait." Dominating the reviews, however, are those that combine extravagant praise and condemnation. "Big aind brutal as an Elizabethan tragedy" is followed by "more depraved than any drama yet produced on the American stage." "Falters badly at the beginning of the second act" is balanced with "the most engrossing evening contemporary theatre you're going to find in New York this year." Many reviewers confessed a complete inability to find meaning in Tiny Alice at all, while others discovered pairallels to the Bible, to Parsifal, and to Alice in Wonderland. Albee said preview audiences had no problems understsinding the play. The play's obscurity was not mentioned until after the play premiered and the reviewers wrote about it. It was at this point that Albee said he decided to write an introductory essay for the published version of the play commenting on the theme; however, upon reading the play again, he said the meaning was perfectly clear and the essay unnecessary. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. l6 Regardless of the clarity of the play to Albee, most of the viewing public found the theme difficult to understand. This discussion develops the qpinion that the theme of the play is clear — that most people fail to recognize an obvious theme of martyrdom in the play. Specifically the play is concerned with the martyrdom of Julian who hallucinates himself as a Christ figure. However, this concept of hallu cination is not completely unrealistic because most religious people relate themselves to Christ in their hallucinations. Albee said he believes that Julian's hallucinations are like those of most religiously dedicated people in being subconsciously motivated by sexual repression. The concept of sexual repression has been discussed earlier in this paper as one facet of martrdom, illustrated by Saint Francis rolling in a thombush to overcome evil desire, Anthony flagellating himself, Marcaruis sitting naked on an ant-hill. This chapter analyzes Tiny Alice, viewing Julian as a martyr who demonstrates sexual repression as well as the three criteria of martyrdom: ^he special significance of fantasy, the suspense factor, and the demon strative feature. One reviewer wrote that Tiny Alice is a metaphysical dream play concerning the relationship of man to his God. The plot hinges on the desire of the world's richest woman to grant the Church one hundred million dollars for a period of twenty years, provided the Church agrees to exchange a lay brother, Julian, for the money. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 17 The play opens in a Cardinal's garden where Lawyer stands in front of a bird cage talking to the bird. As the Cardinal enters, he calls to Lawyer as Saint Francis, stating Saint Francis wandered in the fields and forests, talked to all the . . . .^ This remark at the beginning of the play indicates that the playwri^t is letting the audience know imedi ately that the play will be concerned with sacrifice euad martyrdom. The repeated reference to the martyr. Saint Francis, reinforces this supposi tion. As the scene progresses, the audience becomes aware that Lawyer and the Cardinal were schoolmates -iho hated each other. The Cardinal sarcas tically refers to Lawyer as a "solicitor" a respectable British term for an attorney but one which in this country carries with it connotations of prostitution. Lawyer is also referred to as "Satan" by the Cardinal at one point during the scene. Combining the idea of soliciting for money and the someibat Mephistophelean demeanor of the character, Albee's Lawyer appears evil, idiich suggests that his employer is not much different. Consequently, the audience begins to think of Lawyer as the legal repre sentative of some evil power. Even his school background fits the picture. The Cardinal, remembering his schoolmate says, "You were a swine at school .... A cheat in your examinations, a liar in all things of any matter, vile in your personal habits — unwashed and indecent, a bully to ^Tdward Albee, Tiny Alice (New York: Antheneum, 1965), p. 4 . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 18 2 those you intimidate and a sycopant to everyone else." The Lawyer's character becomes more dubious with each minute. Nor is the Cardinal some deeply pious, humble servant of the Lord. He appears to be an arrogant, smug, overly pompous opportunist, who had not incorporated much of Christ's humility. The symbolism in the seemingly realistic first scene looks forward to the end of the play where Julian is sacrificed. The Ceurdinal becomes the surrogate for the Church, and Lawyer becomes the representative of some equally powerful evil Diety, personified by Miss Alice. They all appear bound together in a conspiracy to destroy Julian's soul by leading bim to carnal tençtation while at Miss Alice's mansion. In this way by sacrificing not the man, but his soul, the Church would benefit. The play presents a world so corrupt that the Church will sacrifice a man's soul in order to receive an enormous amount of money. Harold Clurman, the drama critic, in his review in Nation saw precisely this interpreta- ticma lAen he wrote about Tiny Alice : . . . but the play's intention is clear enou^. It tells us that the pure person in our world, is betrayed by all parties. The Church is venal, 'the capitalist,' heartlessly base, the 'proletarian,' cynical and, for all the good he may do, powerless and subservient. There remains women: enticing mother image and never-perfectly-to- be-possessed mate . . . those who rule us— Church, the Economic Forces and Women-bid him accept the world ais it is. Being pure he cannot do so. Isolated and bereft of every hope, he must die— murdered.3 ^Ibid., p. 9 . ^Harold Cluiman, "Tiny Alice; Hughie," Nation, CC (January l8 , 1965), 65-66. ------ Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 19 Other referencesin the first scene point to the corruption of the Church. When Lawyer tells the Cardinal his robes are "the color of your mother's vice," inplying that his mother was a whore. The Lawyer's remark symbolizes the fact that the Church was b o m out of vice and immorality. In fact, among its first followers, the Church boasted Rome's most incorrigible sinners. Edward Gibbon in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, writes : "The fire of Christianity may acknowledge without blush that many of the most eminent saints had been before their baptism the most abandoned sinners."^ Scene two shifts to the library of the immensely large and cavernous castle. Within the library stands a miniature replica of the castle designed after Chambord, the platial sixteenth century hunting lodge that had been built by Francis I. Chambord was built in the shape of a cross. The replica, serving as the cross, plays an iiçortant part to the symbolic representation of Julian's sacrifice at the end of the play. As Julian awaits his first interview with the woman, he is intro duced to the replica. The model resting majestically center stage is reported by Bulter to be an exact replica of the huge castle, down to tiny miniature representations of each room, conplete with tiny furniture and accessories. Consequently, the significance of the replica and the castle have been much questioned. Some critics believe that the replica on stage contains a replica idiich contains a replica and so on into ^Edward Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Reman Empire (New York: Washington Square Press, 1961), p. 56. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 20 infinity; others ask could there he still a larger cestle than the one they are living in, and if so, are they then merely tiny replicas of a larger Diety within an unending universe? "In my Father's house are i%my mansions," said Christ /jdbn. l4:27 and in the mansion of Tiny Alice there are many rooms. In typically priestly manner Brother Juliem praises the rooms that have religious associations : the library representing knowledge; the chapel representing God; and the wine cellsir, representing the necessity of wine for the communion service Tdiich is a re-enactment of The Last Siçjper. As Julian is remarking about the mansion and replica, Bulter questions Julian about a period of six years missing from his dossier. Julian replies that he committed himself to a mental home because he lost faith in God. In Julian's first interview with Miss Alice, she questions him about the six years not accounted for in his dossier. Julian confesses that "there is no mystery to it, my faith in God left me, ariri i cmmnitted myself to an aisylum.”'' He, unlike Alice, has never been able to reduce God to a palpable form in order to understand His omnipresence. Julian does feel that mian is capable of attaining union with the abstraction; consequently, he has fought a n his life to establish his personal rela tionship with the infinity of God's presence, rather thar ray to a man- made image or substitution for Him. He tells Alice that after six years ^Albee, op. cit., p. 4]. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 21 he was released from the asylum, having learned only that his nature was perhaps overly sensitive. His feeling of spiritual dislocation remains with him because even thou^ he has not yet experienced a union with the abstraction, he will not pray to any substitute. Julian fantasizes his relationship with God. The inportance of fantasy as a preliminary for martyrdom appears clearly in every single feature of martyrdom. Generally, the fantasy was a preliminary excitement, i.e., sexual excitement. Attempting to stop this evil most saints would flagellate themselves, roll in a thombush, sit on an ant-hill. Julian, in accounting for the six years missing from his dossier, relates such a fantasy or, as he calls it, a hallucination. Julian: There war a period during ny stay, however, when I began to . . . hallucinate, and to withdraw, to a point ■vdiere I was not entirely certain when my «ind was tricking me, or •vdien it was not. I believe one would say— how is it said? — that my grasp on reality was . . . tenuous— occasionally. There was, at the same time, in my section, a wcanan who, on very infrequent occasions, ^lieved that she was the Virgin Mary.® Julian: A quiet woman, plain, but soft features, not hard; at forty, or a year either side, married, her husband the owner of a dry-goods store, if my memory is correct; childless . . . the sort of woman, in short, that one is not aware of passing on the street, or in a hallway . . . unlike you— if you will permit me.T °Ibid., p. 59. Tl o c . cit. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 22 The woman that Julian is talking about plays a very inportant role in Julian’s fantasy. The fact that in his hallucinations, she thinks she becomes the Virgin Mary prepares dramatically for Julian's fantasy of thinking he is God. Julian continues to describe what his fantasy was like: Julian: Of course. My hallucinations . . . were saddening to me. I suspect I should have been freightened of them— as well as by them— most people are, or would be . . . by hallu cinations. But I was saddened. They were, after all, provoked, brou^t on by the departure of my faith, and this in turn wgs brought on by the manner in which people mock God Julian: The period of hallucination would be announced by a ringing in the ears -vdiich produced, or was acconpanied by, a loss of hearing. I would hear people's voices from a great dis tance and throu^ a roaring of . . . surf. And my body would feel li^t, and not mine, and I would float— not glide.9 Julian: And when I was away from myself— never far enou^, you know, to . . . blank, just to . . . fog over— when I was away from myself I could not sort out my imaginings from what was real. Oh, sometimes I would say to a nurse or one of the attendants, "Could you tell me, did I preach last ni^t. To the patients? A fire-and-brimstone lesson. Did I do that, or did I imagine it?" And they would tell me, if they knew.^® Julian was never sure whether his fantasy was real or not. Many times the attendants did not know whether he preached or not. However, in his imagination he fulfills the same task as the actual preaching. Qjbid., p. 59-60 ^Op. cit. ^^Ibld., p. 61. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 23 The special significance of this preliminary fantasy sets up the second stage, the suspense, \diich has frequently been anticipated by Julian; in his hallucinations he sees himself as the father of the son of the Virgin Mary. Julian relates this fantasy to Alice: Julian: Perhaps. But one night . . . nov thereÎ You see? I said "one ni^t," and I ’m not sure, even now, whether or not this thing happened or, if it did not happen, it did or did not happen at noon, or in the morning, much less at night . . . yet I say ni^t. Doubtless one will do as well as another. I was walking in the gardens, and I heard a sound . . . sounds from near where a small pool stood, with rose bushes, rather overgrown, a formal garden, once, the . . . the place had been an estate, I remember being told. Sounds . . . sobbing? Low cries. And there was, as well, the ringing in my ears, and . . . and fog, a . . . a milkiness, between myself and . . . everything. I went toward the cries, the sounds, and . . . I, I feau: my description will become rather . . . vivid now . 11 Julien: . . . the woman, the woman I told you about, who hallucinated herself, that she was the Virgin . . . ^ Julian: . . . was . . . was on a grassy space by the pool— or this is what I imagined— on the ground, and she was in her . . . a ni^tdress, a . . . gossamer, filmy thing, or perhaps she was not, but there she was, on the ground, on an incline, a s l i ^ t incline, and -vdien she saw me— or sensed me there— she raised her head, and put her arms . . . (Demonstrates) . . . help me. Oh God, God, help me . . . oh, help, help." This over and over, and with the sounds in her throat between, I . . . I came closer, and the sounds, sounds, her words, the roaring in ny ears, the gossamer 'and the milk film, I . . . a ROAR, AN OCEAN! Saliva, perfume, sweaty, slipping . . . (Looks to her apologetically, nods) . . . ejaculation. The sound cascading away, the rhythms, breaking, everything slowly, limpid, quieter, damper, soft . . . soft, quiet . . . done.^3 l^Ibid.: p. 6 1 -6 2 . ^Ibid., p. 6 2 . cit. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 24 In the above three speeches, Julian reveals that he m i ^ t have during cne of his hallucinatory moments broken his vow of chastity. He describes the orgasmic fantasy to Miss Alice, subconsciously, revealing a surpressed desire for sexual intercourse tdiich he has chaneled into the subterfuge of religious ecstasy. Significantly, in this speech he refers to the garden and to rosebushes— not just ordinary rosebushes but "rather overgrown rosebushes." Julian did not take a lesson from SadLnt Francis and roll in the thomed bushes, thus signifying hj.s suffering and his overpowering the "evil one." Instead, Julian, along with the woman, fulfilled his preliminary fantasy. Julian continues his confession to Miss Alice concerning his fantasy; Julian: As I mentioned to you, the woman was given to hallucinations as well, but perhaps I should have said that being the Virgin Mary was merely the strongest of her . . . delusions; she . . . hallucinated . . . as well as the next person, about perfectly mundane matters, too. So it may be that now we come to coincidence, or it may not. Shortly— several days— after the encounter I have described to you— the encounter 'vdiich did or did not happen— the woman . . . I do not know which word to use here, either descended or ascended into an ecstasy, the substance of which was that she was with child . . . that she was pregnant with the Son of God .^5 Juliem is surprised at Miss Alice’s reaction to his story— she only replies "And I live here, in all these rooms.Julian expected Miss Alice to lau^. However, Miss Alice’s comment indicates her fantasy— her castle— at any rate, Julian believes Miss Alice is his friend. ^^Ibid., p. 63. ^^Op. cit. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 25 In the next scene when a fire breaks out in the chapel room of the model, indicating that a larger fire has started in the chapel, the very room Julian has cone from. Lawyer and Butler rush to put out the blaze in the chapel with Julian, confused, but not far behind. Only Alice remains in the library. She kneels and prays. To whom she prays is not clear, but there are suggestions that whatever the force is, she is an incarna tion of it, tiny in proportion to its magnitude and power. She prays that the fire will not consume them. This symbolic scene represents the idea th&t Julian, now residing in the castle with his fiery religious devotion has started a blaze that has the potential to destroy those who plan to conspire against him. When the fire is put out with the help of Julian, it is a sign that his religious beliefs arc not powerful enough to consume the conspirators, giving them the strength to destroy Julian throu^ his own weakness. This scene reveals, symbolically, that Julian, longing to suffer martyrdom, will even conspire with his enemy so as not to be robbed of his sufferings and death. This symbolic scene sets up dramatically the temptation scene vtLzh is to follow in the play. The temptation and seduction of Julian are vital to an understanding of the play. It is clear that Miss Alice is acting as an agent for the abstraction - the Virgin. That temptation seduction are not acccaa- plished by Miss Alice but by the abstraction further illustrates Miss Alice as a symbol for Tiny Alice. At the beginning of the seduction scene, Albee reveals to the audience that Julian possesses the kind of fear anticipated at the beginning of martyrdom. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 26 Miss Alice: Are you frightened, Julian? Julian: Why, No, I . . . I ^ shivering, am I not? Miss Alice: Yes. Julian: But I am not . . . yes, I suppose, I am . . . fri^tened. Miss Alice: Of -vdiat, Julian? Julian: (3Looks toward the model again) But there is . . . (Back) . . . of whit. Miss Alice: Yes. Julian: (Knowing there is) Is there anything to be frightened of. Miss Alice? Miss Alice : (After a long pause) Always Whether this fear thich Julian possesses is a fantasy or real is not explained. However, it is known that the "fear" often precedes the fantasy. Often the "fear" is so intense in martyrdom that fantasy is used for escape for the real punishment. Other times, the punishment is introduced to eliminate the actual happening. In any case, Julian expresses real fear— the beginning of his martyrdom. The details of Julian’s martyrdom are being plotted by Butler and Lawyer including Miss Alice’s bar gin with the Cardinal. Only now, through much verbal play, does Albee reveal to the audience the condition of Miss Alice’s gift to the church. If the Church is to receive one hundred million dollars for twenty yeeors, the Cardinal must condone Julian’s marriage to Alice. In fact, they would like the Cardinal to officiate ITlbid., p. 95-96. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 27 at the wedding ceremony and at the sacrifice. In other words, the Church must officially agree to the sacrifice of Julian in order to receive enou^ money to benefit the entire world. With the Church agreeing, it is now Miss Alice’s duty to carry out the plan of Julian’s sacrifice. In the following scene, •vdiich takes place in Miss Alice’s sitting room, Julian admits to Miss Alice that his life-long wish is to be of service to the Church and then be forgotten. Miss Alice is puzzled at this seemingly humble wish and questions Julian, forcing him to confess that his true wish is to die as a martyr, bathed in the blood of sacrifice. As Miss Alice continues to question Julian, he wants to know tdiat’s being done to me. He says, "Am I being tenp _^teapted7 tested in some fashion?"^® Miss Alice repeats the word "tempted." Julian says he meant tested. Juliem: Both! What! . . . iny sincerity, my . . . ay other cheek? You have allowed that . . . that man, your . . . lover, to . . . ridicule me. You have permitted it. Miss Alice: I. Permit? Julian : You have allowed him to abuse me, my position, his, the Church; you have tolerated it, and smiled.^9 Julian’s use of the word "teapted" illustrates a comparison to Christ’s teamtation in the desert. Here, the metaphor of a martyr begin ning with the reference to Saint Francis, is repeated anA intensified by likening Julian’s elevation to Christ. A further comparison can be seen ^®Ibid., p. 116. ^9ibid., p. 117. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 28 when Christ's position is questioned by the devil, "If you are the Son of God . . ." Just as Julian's position is questioned by Lawyer. Also the devil's offer to Christ "all the kingdoms of the world ..." compares to Lawyer's offer to the Church. Clearly, this scene illustrates that Julian sees himself as a Christ figure. However, not being truthful to himself, he expresses his wish only to be of service; Julian: I have longed . . . to be of great service. When I was young — and very prideful— I was filled with a self-importance that was . . . well disguised. Serve. That weis the active word; I would serve (Clenches his fist). I would serve, and damn aryone or anything that stood in my way. I would shout my humility from the roof and break whatever rules impeded my headlong rush toward obedience. I suspect that had I joined the Trappist order, where silence is the law, I would have chattered about it endlessly. I was impatient with God's agents, and with God, too, I see it now. A . . . novice porter, ripping suitcases from patron's hands, cursfng those •vbo preferred to carry some small parcel for their own. And I was blind to pride, and intolerant of any idio did not see mie as the humblest of m e n . 20 The above speech illustrates Julian's need for the demonstrative feature of martyrdom. He admits that he would shout his humility and that he would find it impossible to be silent. One of the key features of martyrdom is to have witnesses ■rfio can tell about the martyr and the martyrdom. Miss Alice returns the conversation to Julian's ambition. Julian replies that "to be nothing to be least, most obedient, humblest . . ^°Ibid., p. 118-119. ^^Ibid., p. 120. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 29 Miss Alice says then your life . . is to subside . . . and vanish; to leave no memory»"^ Julian replies ; Julian: No; I wish to leave a memory— of work, of things done. I've told you; I wish to be of great service, to move great events; but •vdien it's time for crediting. I'd like someone to say no more than "Ah, wasn't there sane one involved in this, who brought it a n about? A priest" Ah-ah a lay brother— was that it." (Smiles) Like that. The memory of someone who helped.23 Julian again illustrates the characteristic of the demonstrative factor. Martyrdom is nothing unless someone remembers the martyr's suffering and service. In a speech following. Miss Alice re-enforces this demonstrative factor: Miss Alice: The history of the Church shows half its saints were martyrs, martyred either for the Church, or by it. The chronology is jammed with death-seekers and hysterics : the bloodbath to immortality, Julian; Joan was only one of the suicides.^ Miss Alice: You sure being used, my little Julian. I am being used . . . my little Julian. You want to be . . . employed, do you not? Sacrificed, even?^5 Thus Miss Alice helps Julian see that his supreme wish is to be sacrificed for the Church. Julian admits it: ^ O p . cit. ^^Op. cit. ^^Ibid., p. 121. ^^Ibid., p. 123. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 30 Juliam: I have . . . there eure no secrets from you Miss Alice . . . I have . . . dreamed of sacrifice.2° Miss Alice beseeches Julian to tell her of his dreams, which he does in an outpour of religious ecstasy and sexual hysteria; Julian: Oh, -vdien I was still a child, and read of the Romans, how they used the saints as playiliings— enraged children gutting their teddy bears, dashing the head of their doll against the bedpost, I could . . . I could entrance nyself, and see the gladiator on me, his trident fork against my neck, and hear, even hear, as much as feel, the prongs as they entered me; the . . . the beast's saliva dripping from the yellow teeth, the slack sides of the mouth, the sweet, warm breath of the lion; great paws on my spread arms . . . even the rough leather of the pads; and to the point of . . . as the great mouth opened, the breath no longer warm but hot, the fangs on ny jaw and forehead, positioned . . . in. And as the fangs sank in, the great tongue on my cheek and eye, the splitting of the bone, and the blood . . . just before the great sound, the coming dark and the silence. I could . . . experience it all. And was . . . engulfed. (A brief laugh, but not breaking the trance) Oh, martyrdom. To be that. To be able . . . to be that.^T Julian again divulges his fantasy: "I could entrance nyself . . .' and continues to describe the suffering of martyrdom. He has now pro gressed another step into martyrdom: he quivers with suspense, a logical accompaniment to fantasy. This suspense, or anticipation, is the fore pleasure of martyrdom or, ■rfmt is more inporteint an attempt to avoid the end-pleasure. Julian's final line of the speech, "Oh, martyrdom. To be that. To be able . . . to be that," illustrates the suspense factor again. The ^^Op. cit. 2?Ibid., p. 124. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 31 desire exists and has been experienced only in fantasy, but to actually suffer martyrdom has not yet been realized. To underscore the suspense factor, even more, he recalls the death of saints: Julian: The . . . death of the saints . . . was always the beginning of their lives. To go bloodstained and worthy . . . upward. I could feel the blood on ay robes as I went; the smell of the blood, as intense as paint . . . and warm . . . and painless.2" The suspense feeling vacillating between pleasurable and anxious sensations is disclosed as the expression of the attenpt to attain pleasure and avoid pain. This speech supports Julian’s belief that only at the point of martyrdom did the saints begin to live. The concept is true; at that point their martyrdom was "witnessed" euid used by the Church as examples of good lives. Julian: "Here, I have come. You see my robes? They’re red, are they not? Warm? And not the folds cau^t together . . . as the blood coagulates? The . . . fingers of ny left hand— of both— are . . . are hard to move apart, as the blood holds finger to finger. And there is a wound in me the arms dark flow . . . runs down ay belly . . . to . . . bathing w groin. You see? I come . . . bloodstained and worthy."^ In the above speech, Julian equates ejaculation with the flow of blood. This parallel is not unrealistic, because, as has been stated earlier, most religiously dedicated people are subconsciously motivated by sexual repression which can lead to martyrdom. Julian’s fantasy of cit. ^Ibid., p. 125. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 32 suffering martyrdom at the gladiator’s fork and the mouth of the beast has brought about sexual stimulation ending in ejaculation. Again, as ■with the encounter with the woman vho believes she was "the Virgin Mary, Julian has not fought off the "Evil One." Julian: (still self-tranced) Bathed . . . ny groin. And as -the thumbs of the gladiator pressed . . . against . . . ay neck, I . . . as the lion’s belly pressed on my chest, I . . . as the . . . I . . . or SIS the woman sank . . . on the mossy hillock by the roses, and the roar in the crunching growl is the moan is the sweat-breathing is the . . . fumes - . . lying . . . on the moss hill in the white filmy gladiator’s belly pressing on the chest fanged and the soft had tongue and the blood . . . .3^ During his hysteria Alice convinces him to fulfill his craving by sacrificing himself to God through her. The scene ends as Julian unable to control his repressed libido, drops to his knees facing her amd is enveloped in her robe. Af'ter "the temptation and seduction scene, Julian marries Miss Alice "With the Church’s approval. Af'ter the wedding ceremony, the loud pop of the cork of the chanpagne toast, foreshadows -the gun shot that will kill Julian. From -this point until the end of the play Julian is sho"wn as a Christ-like martyr. This is dramatically illustrated -wi-th the serving of the "wine, symbolic of "the wine served at the Last Supper; Butler kissing Julian on the cheek, reminding us of Judas; Julian dying in the posture of crucifixion. cit. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 33 As the guests prepare tc leave, including Alice, Julian, bewildered, is told that he must remain because he has really married Tiny Alice, s. Deity living in the replica, through Miss Alice, her surrogate. Julian does not believe them. Nor does he believe that Tiny Alice lives in the replica because he cannot see her— thou^ he cannot see his own God either. He is asked to accept what is happening to him as an act of Faith. He refuses, thinking that a mockery has been made of his beliefs. They tell him that he can now have a union with the abstraction rather than a man-made image of God if he will only believe and accept Tiny Alice as that Deity. Julian, at the brink of sanity, threatens to return to the asylum because he has been betrayed, abandoned, and mocked. This final scene intensifies the suspense factor, Julian wanting to suffer the pleasure of sacrifice and avoid the end-pleasure of martyrdcm. In order for the original bargain with the Church to be consummated, Julian must be shot. The Cardinal, somewhat unnerved by witnessing Julian’s sacrifical murder, runs from the castle, but not before picking up the first payment of the grant. Butler begins covering the furniture, and makes hasty last-minute preparations to leave, ignoring Julian Tdio lies dying on the floor. They finally leave, sealing up the tomb-like struc ture as they depart. Julian crawls nearer the replica as the life anri blood pours out of him. He is utterly alone now, except for the skull like bust supporting the discarded wig that Alice wore earlier, which Butler has placed near Julian before leaving the castle. Thf> small "phrenological head” reinforces the symbolism of Christ’s death at Golgotha, which can be translated as place of the skull. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 34 Julian then lapses into an almost hallucinatory state, remembering disconnected childhood events, finally realizing that in all his dreams he has never ■‘liought of martyrdom as abandonment aind betrayal. He states that in his fantasy of martyrdom he "imagined dying- Death . . . yes. Not being, but not the act of . . . dying?This speech reveals how fear builds in the fantasy of the martyr and how suspense prolongs the pleasure, but the act of dying is not pleasurable. His next line "Oh Alice (God) why has thou forsaken me?"^ Is a quote from Christ’s suffering on the cross. Also at this point he leans back on the model which is shaped like a cross. Ironically, Julian realizes that no one is watching him die de m o n strative factor/ "... come bring me my ease, come sit with me . . . and watch me as I die."33 He continues his sacrifice with the words, "It is what I have wanted, have insisted on, have nagged . . . for (Looking aaout the room, raging) IS TEES MY PRIESTHOOD, THEN? THIS WORLD? THEN COME AND SHOW 0 4 THYSELF BRIDE? GOD?" As soon as he utters the words he begins to sense the power of an encroaching force. He can hear its giant heart beat and breathing as it comes closer and closer, completely engulfing 3^Ibid., p. 186. 32ibid., p. 187. 33jbid., p. 187-88. 3^Ibid., p. 188-189. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 35 him. He screams out at the deafening sounds, "I accept thee, Alice, for thou are come to me. God, Alice . . . I accept thy will."35 At that moment he slumps into the position of the crucifixion, then falls over dead. If Julian accepts Tiny Alice as God and his sacrifice as God's will, the abstraction, which earlier he has not been able to see, now becomes real and apparent to him. Whether or not he believes there is a God in unimportant. If one believes in Him "on faith" he becomes real. Ironically, Julian, who has fought süJ. his life against turning the abstraction into some man-made image to pray to, does not until the very end believe in the reality of an abstract God. That is, Julian, in his final moment of life, has been able to accomplish •vdiat he always believed was possible: communion with an abstraction; and if this abstraction called Tiny Alice is really his God taking a form he has never conceived of and not an evil Deity, then "vdiat happens at the end of the play is the transfiguration and union of a Christian martyr with his God. 35lbid., p. 190. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. CHAPTER IV THE ZOO STORY The Zoo Story premiered in Berlin, Germany, on September 28 , 1959- It seems rather odd that the first play of an indigenous American writer should have to be performed outside of his own country, but Albee, like so many other unknown writers, had had the play politely refused by a number of New York producers, idio eufraid of presenting a new writer, re turned the manuscript. In the preface of The Zoo Story, Albee states that the initial rejection of the play was natural and to be expected. It was a "short play, and short plays are unfortunately anathema to producers and— supposedly— to audiences. Perhaps it is for this reason that Albee never refers to his plays as one-acters; instead he calls them plays in one scene or short plays. The play was read by friends of Albee and cir culated unsuccessfully from New York, to Florence, to Zurich, to Frankfurt, and finally to Berlin for its belated world premiere. The response in Germany caused enough of a stir to enable it to be produced four months later Off-Broadway at the Provincetown Playhouse on January l4 , i960. Of its premiere in Germany, Friedrich Luft wrote of the play in Die Welt that ". . . it is highly talented and, in its dialectic of absolute o evil, it has often a ghastly lustre.' The other newspaper, Darmstadter ^Edward Albee, The American Dream and The Zoo Story (New York: Signet Books, 1959)* P* T- ^Theatre Review in the Die Veit, Septenber 29, 1959. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 37 Echo was a hit more prophetic when it stated "This monologue of a desperate man, imploringly looking for human contact and friendship, is an experiment and perhaps a discovery for the theatre."3 The main point from Darmstadter Echo's review ". . . a desperate man, imploring looking for human contact . . is of upmost importance in viewing The Zoo Story as a modem day morality play dealing with the suffering and sacrificing of a mertyr— Christ. The statement regarding human contact or one who will witness is an essential part in understanding fully The Zoo Story. The idea of con tact is very much a part of martyrdom, belonging to the third criterion— the demonstrative feature. This feature is illustrated by Jerry's search for contact with society. Jerry, a completely isolated individual, sees the world as a zoo "with everyone separated by bars from everyone else, the animals for the most part from each other, and always the people from the animals."5 Jerry is seeking a contact ^^witness/ in order to save society from spiritual starvation. Like his prototype, Christ— Jerry is constantly rejected not only by the people in the rooming house but also by the landlady's dog. It is through his anticipation of salvation for society that Jerry suffers martyrdom. ^Theatre Review in Darmstadter Echo, September 29, 1959* ^Ibid. ^Albee, loc. cit., p, 39. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 38 Albee has blended into The Zoo Story traditional Christian symbols which inspite of their mod e m dress, retain their original significance— or, more precisely, express their original significance in mo d e m terms. Therefore, it is the purpose of this chapter to discuss these Christian symbols, to view the play from its simplest level, that is, concerned with human isolation, and to show that the demonstrative feature /contact and witness/ of martyrdom is exhbited in Jerry's mission for salvation for the World. The play opens with Peter seated on a bench in the park. Albee describes Peter as "neither fat nor gaunt, neither handsome nor homely. He is, in fact, in no way distinctive. Peter, as a middle-class stereo type, is the modem version of Everyman. He reads the "right" books, lives on the "ri^t" side of the park, has the average number of children, and the "ri^t" Madison Avenue job. His is the New Yorker-ad-life to which most middle-class citizens, consciously or unconsciously, aspire. He blends perfectly into the brightly-packaged emptiness of the m o d e m landscape. The "bars" which separate Peter from his own nature and from other people are the material goods and the prefabricated ideas with which he surrounds himself. He has himself ceirefully constmcted his isolation — his own fantasy. When Jerry approaches, Peter would prefer not to talk but is too polite and too afraid of anyone's bad opinion to ignore Jerry. Once engaged in conversation, Peter tries to avoid talking about any subject ^Ibid., p. 11. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 39 that has real relevance, anything that has roots penetrating his carefully prepared fantasy. When Jerry, trying to establish some real contact with Peter by asking personal questions about his having more children, Peter withdraws from the conversation. He refuses to make contact; he wishes to be left alone in his fantasy. Jerry: And you're not going to have any more kids, are you? Peter: (a bit distantly) No, No more. (Then back and irksome) Why did you say that? How would you know that? Jerry: The way you cross your legs perhaps; something in the voice or maybe I'm just guessing. Is it your wife? Peter: (furious) That's none of your business. Do you understand?"^ Peter would much prefer to steer the conversation to the safe, if shallow, waters of conventional small talk. He tried to restrict himself to talk about the weather or books. And the only time during the conversation that he feels comfortable, indeed expansive, is his launching into a "canned" evaluation of the comparative merits of Marguand and Baudelaire, Tdiich Jerry cuts short and dismisses as pretentious. Peter will not acknowledge Jerry's contact because he cannot easily fit Jerry's dress and habits into any of the neatly labelled pigeonholes. Peter: Œi you live in the Village (thisseems to enli^ten Peter). Jerry: No, I don't . . . Peter : (Almost pouting) Oh, I thought you lived in the Village. Jerry: What were you trying to do? Make some sense out of things, bring order? The old pigeonhole bit?" ^Ibid., p. 16. Qlbid., p. 21-22. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 40 Peter, then, is self-isolated. He refuses to witness anything that would destroy his life of "things" and prejudices which protects h-tm from him self and frcm the world. While Peter, not knowing himself, welcomes isolation in himself and others, Jerry, knowing his nature, fights this separation. In part his isolation is forced upon Jeny. Like many of the early saints who spent their lives in isolation in monasteries, Jerry’s isolation is caused by society, growing out of Jerry’s need for truth and society’s refusal to accept truth. Jerry is determined to discover the essential nature of the human condition, even if it means sacrificing himself. Therefore, he gives up worldly goods, things, obvious relationships. He has a strong box without a lock, picture frames without pictures, and pornographic playing cards.9 As most saints, he is deprived of the usual worldly pleasures and of the usually family relationship because of dedication of self to seeking truth. The same urge for truth that enables Jerry to know himself msdces communication between him and the others almost impossible, for the truth about human relationships thr.t Jerry recognizes is that men are islands irrevocably cut off from one another. Contact is from time to time made, but always with great pain and difficulty and never with any assurance that it can be sustained. Jerry tells Peter -vdiat he hsÆ learned about human relations in his tale of Jerry and the Dog. ^Ibid., p. 23. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4l Being cut off from one another, we anticipate fear, we hate with an unreeisoning hatred any creature who threatens to invade our fantasy world of security. This is indicated in Jerry’s tale of the dog. The dog attacks Jerry only when Jerry tries to enter the house, "whenever I came in; but never when I went out .... I could pack up and live in the street for all the dog cared.The dog believes the house is his donain Just as Peter, later in the play, considers the park bench which he has appropriated is his. Both Peter and the dog are willing to f i ^ t to the death any invader of their territories. However these territories eire only fantasies : the house does not belong to the dog any more than the park bench belongs to Peter. Any attempt to break through these fantasies creates hostility. Jerry first attempts to break lüarough with love and understanding. However, he is rejected by both the dog and Peter. Jerry bribes the dog with hamburgers but this gains him only the tactical od‘vant the dog attacks him. Jerry realizes that he csmnot buy love or under standing, nor can he establish real contact by any easy means. Poor bastard, he never learned that the moment he took to smile before he went for me gave me time enou^ to get out of range. But there he was, malevolence with an erection waiting.^ ^Ojbid., p. 30. ^Ibid., p. 32. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 42 The dog reflects with deadly accuracy ell the qualities which Jerry linds in society: hatred, lust, smiling exploitation, and treachery. Jerry and the dog /society/ stand in opposit relation to one another. They are a pair of eumed enemies sizing each other up, waiting to spring or to out-maneuver each other. Theirs is a perfect model of most human relationships, as Jerry sees them. Any superficial attenpt at concilia tion merely lulls for a moment the hostility ■vdiich is caused by their isolation and fear. To establish contact one must reach below the s'urface to the level of pain and pleasure. "I have learned," Jerry says, "that neither kind ness or cruelty, independent of each other creates any effect beyond themselves; and I have leeimed that the two combined, together, an the 2 P samp time are the teaching emotion." The teaching emotion as Jerry calls it, is illustrated by the saints •vdao welcomed pain as punishment of their sins because eventually pain was pleasurable. In other words, this is reaching into the realm "vdiere emotions themselves are not sharply dif ferentiated . Jerry applies the knowledge he has gained from his contact with the dog in trying to establish contact with Peter. Realizing that Peter cannot be drawn out of his t o u ^ shell with talk, that words \hen they do penetrate Peter’s surface, merely cause him to throw up further barriers to contact, Jerry tries to penetrate Peter’s reserve beneath this consciously ^Ibid., p. 35-36. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 43 preserved surface. He begins by tickling Peter, causing Peter to fantasize about his family. The tickling, being a pain-pleasure experience, perfectly implements Jerry’s theory that the teaching emotion involves cruelty and kindness combined. The effect upon Peter of the tickling is startling and immediate. It enables him, for the first time, to relax his grip upon the shield that his "perfect life provides." Peter: Oh, hee, hee, hee. I must go. I . . . hee, hee, hee. After all, stop, stop, hee, hee, hee, after all the parakeets will be getting dinner ready soon. And the cats are setting the table. Stop, stop . . . and we’re having . . . (Jerrj' stops tickling Peter but the combination of the tickling and his own mad whimsey has Peter laughing almost hysterically. As his laughter continues, then subsides, Jerry watches him with a curfous, fixed s m i l e . ) 3 Peter goes on lau^iing and Jerry reminds him that something has happened at the zoo which arouses Peter’s curiosity. Peter: Ah, ha, ha, the what? Oh, yes, the zoo. Well, I had my own zoo there for a moment with . . . hee, hee, the parakeets getting^dinner ready. . . . Oh my, I don’t know what happened The teaching, pleasure-pain emotion, like that the martyr experience, has enabled Peter to see clearly for a brief moment the emptiness of his life, a life in "vdiich cats, children, wife, and parakeets are interchangeable, because they are all merely props ^ o s e function it is to disguise nothingness and isolation. ^3lbid., p. 38-39. ^^Loc. cit. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. hk After Jerry has established the first contact, which is conparable to the contact he had achieved with the dog in that its purpose was to enli^ten, Jerry prods Peter into a fi^t. In forcing Peter to fight for the park bench, Jerry once again challenges Peter's attachment to material things that in themselves are without value to him. Peter responds to the invasion of his "property" with the same ferocity that the dog has shown. Finally, Jerry makes Peter kill him. Peter, we, assume, can never again exist on the surface level, can never again avoid contact with himself for he has witnessed the sacrifice of a man. And Jerry has at last established a contact that must endure, for Peter will never be able to forget a Tnari he has killed. The theme of isolation and contact now evident provides the back ground for the symbolism in the play. The symbols are large traditional Christian symbols. Jerry, ^ o emulates Jesus, is himself a thirty-year-old outcast whose purpose is to establish contact "with God who is a colored queen who wears a kimono and plucks bis eye brows, who is a woman who cries with determination behind her closed door . . . with God, who I'm told, turned his back on the whole thing some time ago. . . And there is Peter, St. Peter, an average worldling who is stripped by the irresistible Jerry of his material goods and lead toward a revelation of truth. So carefully constructed and maintained is the symbolic pattern that the play borders on allegory. What preserves the play as symbol is that its function ^^ibid., p. 35. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 45 in the theme of isolation and contact is never lost. Let us examine the symbolic pattern more closely and observe its relation to the pattern of meaning we have discussed. Jerry, when we meet him, has lived for a short time in a rooming house on the West Side. The inhabitants of the rooming house are a Negro homosexual, a Puerto Rican family, and a woman who cries incessantly. They are, in effect, the outcasts, the doomed, the "least of these. The gate keepers, as Jerry says, of the rooming house are a foul woman and a dog, "a black monster of a beast: an oversized head, tiny, tiny ears and eyes . . . The dog is black, all except for the bloodshot eyes."-^ The description immediately identifies the dog as Cerebus, the monster, all black with flaming eyes, tdio guards Hell. The drunken, lewd woman whose affection for the dog is a1most maternal adds a further dimension to the allusion for we recognize the pair as Milton's Sin and Death. The symbol is reinforced and expanded •vdien Jerry throws poisoned meat to the dog in his effort to gain safe passage, for this is an unmistakable allusion to the myth in which Theseus throws drugged honey-cakes to Cerebus to gain entrance to the Underworld. The West Side rooming house, then, is Hell and Jerry's adventures with the dog symbolize the mythical hero's or God's descent into Hell. The identification of Jerry as Jesus becomes explicit when the landlady asks him to pray for her sick dog, Jerry replies, "Madam, I have ^°Ibid., p. 2 2 . ^^Ibid., p. 30. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 46 myself to pray for, the colored queen, the Puerto Rican family, the person whom I have never seen, the woman who cries behind the closed door, and the rest of the people in all the rooming houses everywhere. This modernized Messiah first identifies himself with the outcasts and the afflicted and then assumes responsibility for them. Prom time to time Albee gives the audience broad clues to his sym bolic equivalents so that his meaning cannot be mistaken. For example, tdien Jerry is revealing to Peter the nature of the human condition by means of the parable of the dog for that, indeed, is what the Tale of Jerry and the Dog is, a parable, he uses, in broad parody, a Biblical locution, "AND IT CAME TO PASS TEAT THE BEAST WAS DEATHLY ILL."^^ or agedn, after Jerry-Jesus has harrowed Hell, that is, gained entrance into the rooming house and assumed respcmsibility for xtc inmates, and is ready for the job of salvation, he must ccsne to Peter by a very curious route. . . . I took the subway down to the Village so I could walk all the way up Fifth Avenue to the Zoo. It's one of those things a person has to do; sometimes a person has to come a very long distance out of his way to cone back a short distance correctly The journey downtown and up, at the end of which lies the salvation of a man is, of course, Christ's descent into Hell and Resurrection "vdiich aire necessary before Redemption can begin. ^^Ibid., P. 33. ^^ibid., p. 32. ^ I b i d ., p. 21 Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 47 Peter refuses Jerry-Jesus' message when it appears in the parable of the dog. He first deliberately resists understanding, then he pre tends that he has not understood, eind finally, he covers his ears to escape the truth that has been revealed to him. Jerry: Oh, ccme on now, Peter, tell me "vdiat you think. Peter: (numb) I . . . I don't understand what . . . I don't think I . . . (Now almost tearfully) Why did you tell me all of this? Jerry: Why not? Peter: I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Jerry: (Furious, but whispering) That's a lie. Peter: No, no it's not. Jerry: (Quietly) I tried to explain to you as I went along. I went slowly; it all has to do with; Peter: I DON'T TO HEAR ANY MORS.^^ Jerry's parable, like the Gospels, is spoken slowly and framed in the simplest terms. But, like the Gospels, it is rejected by Everyman who pretends not to understand, who pleads confusion, and who finally flees from the responsibility that understanding would demand. Jerry's truth cannot be conveyed in words. In tickling Peter and causing him for a second to lose his grip, to penetrate the falsity of his life, Jerry is, in effect, symbolically strippling Peter of his worldly goods and causing him to "follow" him. ^^Ibid., p. 36-37. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 48 Once Peter has questioned the "happiness" of having the r i ^ t life, the r i ^ t family, and the ri^ t pets, he has taken the first steps in a journey that v l U lead him to the realization of vhat it is like to be essentially human and to be an outcast. Finally, realizing the futility of trying to reach Peter with words, realizing too the fragility of the vision of truth that has flashed before Peter’s mind during the tickling, Jerry dies for Peter. He dies to save Peter’s soul from death by spiri tual starvation. Peter, \dio witnesses Jerry’s death, will be forced to know himself and to feel kinship with the outcasts for whom Jerry has prayed. In the dialogue of the death scene Albee again makes his allusions very broad. In the instant before Jerry decided to impale himself upon the knife there is a suggestion of his momentary indecision, followed by acceptance of his fate which he declares in a spoken resolution. Peter: I ’ll give you one last chance to get out of here and leave me alone. (He holds the knife with a firm hand but far in front of him, not to attack, but to defend. Jerry: (Sighs heavily) So be itl^ This decision to accept death for man’s salvation is the modernized scene at Gethsemane. Again the somewhat archaic locution strengthens the allusion. In the death scene itself the sQlusion is so broad that it beccmoes ironic. Peter’s calling "Oh, ay God" operates so well on both the ^^Ibid., p. 47. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 49 symbolistic level and isolation theme that they become an ironic commen tary Tjçon the other. The words, are, of course, the very words we feel we would utter in desperate need of help from society and yet, ironically, on the symbolic level it ^ God, the God he has slain, wiiom Peter is addressing. Peter; Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh ay God . . . Jerry: (Jerry is dying, but now his expression seems to change. His features relax and while his voice varies, sometimes wrenched with pain, for the most part, he seems removed from his dying.) Thank you, Peter, I mean that now; thank you very much. I came unto you and you have comforted me, dear Peter. Peter: (Almost fainting) Oh my God. Jerry: You’d better go now. Somebody might come by and you don’t want to be here when anyone comes. Peter: (Does not move, but begins to weep.) Oh ny God, Oh my God. Jerry: (His eyes still closed, he shakes his head and speaks: a combination of scornful and mimicry and supplication.) Oh . . . ny . . . God. 3 The allusion is perfectly sustained and in the mouth of a skillful actor Peter’s repetition of the phrase contains infinite variety, expressing varying degrees of awareness. This Crucifixion scene is also under scored by Peter’s betrayal who, taking his book and leaving the dying Jerry, he, in effect, denies that "he knows the man." ^3ibid., p. 47.49. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 50 What Albee has written in The Zoo Story is a m o dem morality play. The theme is the centuries old one of human isolation and salvation through sacrifice. Man in his natural state is alone, a prisoner of Self. If he succumbs to fear he enforces his isolation in denying it. Pre tending that he is not alone, he surrounds himself with things and ideas that bolster the barrier between himself and a31 other creatures. The good man first takes stock of himself. Once he has understood his con dition, realized the limitations imposed upon himself by Self, he is driven to prove his kinship with all other things and creatures. In proving this kinship he is extending his boundaries, defying Self, proving his humanity. He finds at last if he has been completely truthful in his search, that the only way in ■vdiich he can smash the walls of his isolation and reach his fellow creatures is by an act of love, a sacrifice, so great that it altogether destroys the self that imprisons him, that it kills him. Albee, in recreating this theme has used a pattern of symbo lism that is an Immensely expanded allusion to the story of Christ’s sacrifice. But the symbolism is an integral part of the story which he was to tell, the story of m o d e m man and his isolation and hope for salvation. He uses the allusion to support his cwn story. He has chosen traditional Christian symbols, not because they are tricky attention- getters, but because the sacrifice of Christ proviaes the most effective and moving way of relating his story to one of the most poignant sacrifices of 1 time. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. CHAPTER V A DELICATE BALANCE Notwithstanding the fact that Edward Albee received the Pulitzer Prize for A Delicate Balance, it still remains, aside from Tiny Alice, his most underrated play. Premiered on September 12, I966, at the Martin Beck Theatre, its generally mild reception generated immediate controversy over Albee’s continuing talent as a first-rate playwri^t. Martin Gottfried, reviewing for Women’s Wear Daily, called the play "two hours of self- indulgence by a self-conscious and self-overrating writer."^ Robert Brustein, now Dean of the Yale School of Drama, said the writing was "as far from mo d e m speech as the whistles of a dolphin. Conversely, J d m Chapman called it "a beautiful play— easily Albee’s best and most mature."3 And Harold Clurman considered it "superior to the more sensational Virginia Woolf. While the critics could not agree on the play’s merits, they in general agreed on its theme, which they stated in various ways as man’s ^34artin Gottfried, "Theatre: ’A Delicate Balance,’" Wnmpn’s Wear Daily, September 2 3 , 1966. ^Robert Brustein, "Albee’s Allegory of Innocence," New Republic, CLIV, V (October 8, I966), p. 34. 3John Chapman, "Albee *s play, ’A Delicate Balance, ’ A Shimmering Start for Season," Daily News (New York), September 23, 1966. ^Harold Clurman, "Theatre," Nation, CCTII (October 10, 1966), p. 361. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 52 responsibility to man. Albee bad hinted at the theme before the play’s opening (he wasn’t going to be misunderstood again as in Tiny Alice) when he revealed that the new work was about "the nature of responsibility, that of family and friends— about responsibility as against selfishness, self-protectiveness, as against Christian responsibility."3 in their reviews the critics simply paraphrased vdiat Albee had said about the responsibilities of friendship since a major plot episode concerns the protagonists’ best friends. Norman Nadel claimed that the "delicate balance" was between "the r i ^ t of privacy and the obligations of friendship. Vogue’s reviewer echoed the other critics when he remarked that it is "when our friends make demands on us that we fail them."'^ Leonard Probst, reviewing for NBC-TV, said in his one minute critique that "the delicate balance is the balance between responsibility to friends (when they’re in trouble) . . . and the conflict with our own reasonable desires."® John Gassner, in analyzing the play’s structure, concluded that it was most concerned with 3"Broadway in Preview," The New York Ti^es, August l6, I966. Borman Nadel, "’A Delicate Balance’ Lacks It," World Journal Tribune, September 23, 1966. ^Anthony West, "Theatre; A Delicate Balance, ’Self-indulgent,’" Vogue, CXLVIII (November 1 , I966), p. 150. o Leonard Probst, "Review," NBC-TV News, 11:15 p.m., September 22, 1966. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 53 saying "if we do not want to betray a friendship, we do not really want to carry it very far."^ With this general agreement on its theme, the critics poured out reasons why the new play was not well written. Norman Nadel, referring to the neighboring couple who decide out of a private fear to stay on indefinitely, commented that their personal problem split the play into two parts which "do not relate as they should. John Gassner, writing for the Educational Theatre Journal, concluded that Albee had brought too many other elements into the play to simply resolve the friendship theme.^ Perhaps the most outspoken criti cism of the play’s structure came from the Village Voice. Michael Smith wrote that the play’s crisis had "not been resolved but uncreated . . . _^ecause7 . . . Harry and Edna, quite on their own, simply go away .... Balance has been restored not by the called for heroic leap, but by removal . . . this play is a cop-out. Each critic’s evaluation was based on the premise that Albee had not carefully thought out the play’s events as related to the problem of friendship and its ensuing responsibilities. Professor Gassner, concen trating on what he considered Albee’s intention, went so far as to say that certain major characters should not have been included in the play— 9John Gassner, "Broadway in Review," Education Theatre Journal (December 1966), p. 451. ^®Nadel, loc. cit. ^Gassner, loc. cit. ^Michael Smith, "Review of A Delicate Balance," Village Voice, September 29 , I966. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 54 specificeQly, that the alcholic sister’s appearance seemed somewhat arhitrsLiy and the dau^ter’s sudden homecoming uncalled for."^3 Walter Kerr complained that "there are no events— nothing follows necessarily from what has gone before, no two things fit, no present posture has a tangible past. But the play examines more levels of our existence than the need for true friendship among men. Once properly understood, the play’s events become logically sequential, revealing an analysis of the m o d e m scene that penetrates deeper than the reviews imply. One of the elements not .discussed in any of the reviews is a continuation of a major Albee theme. From the very first Albee drama. The Zoo Story to Tiny Alice and, now, A Delicate Balance a character type continually makes his appearance : that of the martyred-Christ figure. Therefore, it is the purpose of this chapter to analyze A Delicate Balance, viewing the characters as martyrs who demonstrate sexual repression, isolation, fantasy, anticipation, and witnessing. At the opening of the play, there are three characters present in a large suburban house: the husband and wife of the home, Agnes and Tobias, and Agnes’ unmarried, alcoholic sister, Claire. From the start, the play dramatizes the themes of isolation, humiliation, and death throu^ revealing the emptiness and lovelessness, in addition to the ^3cassner, loc. cit. ^^sQ.ter Kerr, "The Theatre : Albee ’ s ’A Delicate Balance.’" The New York Times, September 23, 1966. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 55 distress in the lives of the characters; no one’s soul is able to find a resting place or any kind of spiritual security. Agnes reveals her desire for isolation by saying to Tobias, "I have reached an age, Tobias, when I wish we were always alone, you and I, without . . . hangers-on . . . or anyone.”^3 Agnes wants isolation from society where she can spend her remaining years without worry and bother. Her desire for escape is so intense that she talks of madness as a way out when she says "... that it is not beyond . . . happening; some gentle loosening of the morrings sending the balloon adrift."^® There is a death wish in her thou^t on madness— not verbalized, yet it is subliminally in her very description of the madness that she wishes. In another speech Agnes indicates that she is deeply troubled by the problems she faces in her day-to-day existence. She says, "If I were to list the mountain of ny burdens . . ."^7 Here she is revealing for a witness that she has many burdens to carry. The fact that Agnes thinks about dying is a way of escaping the harsh realities of her world; she dreams of isolation from the world. The anticipation of death coupled with her fantasy for isolation is part of Agnes’ martyrdom. Evidence in the play proves that Agnes suffers deep humiliation by the presence of her unmarried sister, Claire, who lives in the household. ^^Eâward Albee, A Delicate Balance (New York: Pocket Books, 196T). p. 4o. ^®Ibid., p. 13. ^Tlbid., p. 16. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 56 She suspects Claire had an affair with her husband. As a result she treats Claire miserably by the constant reminders of Claire’s alcohol problem. At one point in their lives, Tobias tells Agnes that she ou^t to apologize to Claire for the unkind remarks. Agnes replies, "I will n Û not double my humiliation by apologizing to her." This remark to double humiliation is reference to the suspected affair and the act of humbling herself before Claiire. The circumstance of Tobias and Agnes’ sexual-estrangement exhibits one of the concepts of martyrdom. It is inç>ortant to stress, at this point, that the early Christian martyrs use_d sexual repression as a self- punishment, caused by the desire for sexual contact. There is a sexless relationship between Agnes and Tobias. It is punishment because of the death of their son, Teddy. After he died, Tobias was indecisive regarding his personal marital relationship with his wife. He failed to spill forth his feelings and instead kept everything hidden inside of himself. Their marriage is described in the play as turning into a "silent . . . sad, and disgusted . . . love. Instead of acting, taking the initiative or the aggressiveness to restore their sexual rela tionship and coizpatibility, Tobias cheated on his wife by going to another woman for his sexual release. The affair caused Tobias to become even more guilt-ridden. For further punishment for his act, he chose to live and sleep in his own room, separate from his wife. ^®Ibid., p. IT. ^9ibid., p. 143. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 57 It seems evident that Tobias takes on several characteristics of the martyr; first, he chooses the road of self-abasement in dealing with his maritial situation; second, Claire, Tobias’ sister-in-law, is a witness to Tobias’ martyrdom. Her witnessing of his celibacy, in addition to the witnessing by his wife, fulfills the demonstrative feature as dis cussed in the criteria for martyrdom. To further illustrate Tobias’ self-abasement, Claire taikes every opportunity to humilate Tobias by stating outri^tly to almost everyone that Tobias cheated on his wife one summer by having a sexual affair with some woman, an endeavor that he shared with his best friend, Harry. The implication is that Claire is the woman who was "upended" by Tobias and Harry, butthis point is not fully explored in the play. Claire : What do you really have in common with your very best friend . . . ’cept the coincidence of having cheated on your wives in the same summer with the same woman . . . girl . . . Woaan? What except that? And hardly a distinction. I believe she was upended that tdiole July. Tobias: (rather ti^t-mouthed) If you’ll forgive me Claire, common practice is hardly . . . Cledre: Poor girl, poor what ever she was that hot and very wet July. (Hard) The distinction would have been to have not; to have been the one or two of the very, very many and dh, God, similar idio did not t ^ n d the poor . . . unfamiliar thing that dry and oh, so wet July. Tobias: Please ! Agnes Tobias, humiliated by Cladre, begs her to step. However, during Claire’s comments, he fantasizes they are coming from his wife because in his plea ^°Ibid., p. 29. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 58 he says, "Please! Agnes!" It is assumed that Agnes knows of the affair. She even comments on the amazing harmony between her husband and Claire, when she says, "You and Claire make so much sense together, talk so well. In the parable of the cat another point in Tobias’ martyrdom occurs, unless Tobias demonstrates his need for an audience to witness his martyr dom. The parable serves as a confession for Tobias’ failure as husband and father and reveals his guilt-ridden fears about an incident in the past. For years before his marriage to Agnes, he and a pet cat enjoyed a mutual affection. One day Tobias realized that his pet cat no longer liked him; it would not come to him when called, and retreated whenever he approached. The cat’s unexplainable rejection made Tobias All the more ainxious to win back his pet’s love. Finally, after many overtures, in desperation and utter frustration, he shook the cat violently yelling, "Damn you, you like me; God damn it, you stop this ! I haven’t done anything to you."^ Fri^tened at the outburst, the cat bit him, and Tobias in retaliation viciously smacked it. Tobias describes the outcome; Tobias: . . . She and I had lived together and been well, you know, friends, and . . . there was no reason. And I hated her, well, I suppose because I was being accused of semething, of failing. But I hadn’t been cruel by design; if I ’d been neglectful well, ny life was . . . I resented it. I resented having a . . . being judged. Being betrayed. Claire: What did you do? ^ I b i d ., p. 132, ^^Ibid., p. 44. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 59 Tobias : I bad lived with her; I had done . . . everything. And . . . and if tnere was a, any responsibility I ’d failed in . . . well . . . there was nothing I could do. And, and I was being accused. Claire: Yes, what did you do? Tobias: (Defiance and self-loathing) I had her killed.^3 The parable is important to Tobias’ martyrdom. First, it reveals that the cat refuses to participate further in Tobias’ life by withdrawing from Tobias. The withdrawal is a severe blow to Tobias because the cat has been his constant conpanion, serving as his witness. Without the cat as a willing audience, admiring his behavior, there is no point in his exis tence. The cat has, in fact, betrayed Tobias. In relating the parable Tobias becomes a Christ figure. During the course of the play Tobias is addressed by Julia, Agnes, and Harryas "Christ," "Jesus," or "God" five different times. Julia in a state of desperation yells to Tobias, "Father! Help me!" These points, coupled with the parable of betrayal, is evidence of Tobias-Christ figure. The parable parallels Judas’ betrayal of Christ when Tobias says, "I resented . . . being judge. Being betrayed . . . And if there was any responsibi lity, I’d failed in . . . well .... There was nothing I could do. And, and I was being accused."^3 The speech brings to m-tnd Christ’s pre dicament vixen he is betrayed at the Mount of Olives. ^3ibid., p. 45. ^^Ibid., p. 105. ^3%bid., p. 45. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 60 As forementioned, Tobias’ martyrdom produces others. Teddy’s death had led to Julia’s frustrations and martyrdom. Julia failed not only in school but also in each of her four marriages. She refers to her failure in marriage in the following way: "Do you think it gives me some kind of 26 martyr pleasure?" Here she is speaking of the pain she suffers paral leling it with the pleasure-pain of the martyr. Julia’s martyrdom is probably caused by her sinful reflections and attitude regarding her brother’s death; the very fact that she was relieved, precipitated her martyrdom. Because she realized this attitude as sinful, she inflicted pain on herself, a self-punishment leading to her atonement. The following speech tells of Julia’s self-punishment: Agnes : Why I do believe that’s the first time she’s called on her father in . . . since her childhood. Claire: When she used to skin her knees? Agnes: (A little lau^) Yes, and she would come home bloody. I assumed she was clvunsy, but it crossed my mind a time or two . . . that she was religious. Edna: Praying on the gravel? A penance? Agnes : Yes. Teddy has just died . . Another person trying to isolate herself from society is Claire. As her name implied, clairvoyant, she sees and tells the truth. Reality is harsh for her. She cannot cope with what she preceives and rather than kill herself or go insane, she drinks. Her drinking causes her humiliation from her family a= well as from society. Claire isan outcast. ^®Ibid., p. 61. ^Tlbid., p. 108. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6l Tobias asks Claire why Alcoholic Anonymous never helped her. She replies, in a rather descriptive monologue, that she could not accept a belief in God— the first tenet of the organization. In the monologue, Claire relates her humilation of standing before the audience at meetings of Alcoholic Anonymous and confessing her name and problem; "î^ name is p 8 Claire, and I am a alcoholic." This was a way, through humiliation, of inflicting punishment upon herself. She begins to enjoy the meetings where she can make confessions and in turn, relate to all the listeners 7 ^tnesses7 her pitiful, pathetic, experiences and ultimately what induced her to drinking the alcohol. She continues attending the meetings until she hit upon a very significant factor, her realization that she is not an alcoholic. The distinction between ner a^a the alcoholic is that they cannot help themselves, whereas she can and is merely willful. Claire enjoys her self-punishment. A comment is made by Agnes regsirding Claire’s martyrdom: "What I cannot stand is the selfishness! Those of you who want to die . . . and take your lAiole life doing it. Obviously Agnes is referring to Claire’s dying of alcohol and the fact that she enjoys it. Claire retorts, inferring the nature of martyrdom, "If you inter viewed a camel, he’d admit he loved his load. This statement is a good description of all martyrs, not only Agnes and Claire. The martyr loves ^®Ibid., p. 34. ^ I b i d ., p. 37. ®°Ibid., p. 117. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 62 his "load" which leads to his punishment where death can he anticipated. Death teikes on a symbolic term in the play— that of the plague. The two visitors, Harry and Edna, represent death. Actually, when they decend upon Tobias, they are fleeing from death, but are irreversibly cau^t with it and carry the fatal disease into the home with them. The symbolic interpretation can be further supported by noting that the play begins on Friday evening and ends on Sunday morning, paral leling the days of the Easter story. Harry and Edna bring death with them on Friday, as Christ did to the grave, and leave happy and well on Sunday. Tobias in his decision to accept Harry and Edna into his home, accepts death. But with death leaving Sunday morning, Tobias is resurrected. This parallel agrees with Tobias as a Christ figure. Besides the symbolic level, Harry and Edna also function in the concept of martyrdom. By introducing Harry and Edna into the play, Albee exhibits two people traumatized by the sudden realization that death is not only a certain!ty, but imminent. The attitude demonstrated by Harry and Edna is one that has been held by most martyrs; that is, the events leading up to the actual death— fantasy, humiliation, glory, suspense or anticipation— are welcomed; however, before the actual death, there is hesitation and doubt. A number of reasons can account for this attitude but the one that is most prevalent is the fear there will be no witness to the death and the martyrdom w i U go unnoticed. Harry and Edna to avoid such an end rush to the home of Tobias and Agnes and demand friendship for their final days. Under the guise of Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 63 friendship, Tobias and Agnes will witness their final days. However, Harry and Edna have nothing except the illusion of friendship with Agnes and Tobias. Even thou^ no one will admit it, the friendship is dead. It is dead because it never really existed. Harry and Edna are two people who have spent their lives in an illusion of friendship to realize finally that their final days hold no witnesses for them, but only isolation and abandonment. In A Delicate Balance Albee, concerned with m o d e m man’r sense of isolation and abandonment, asserts that it is the death of friendship that produces the feelings of isolation. Evidence of this theme grows, as it becomes clear that the weekend’s episode has wrecked what illusion of friendship the two couples had: Edna: I ’m going into town on Thursday, Agnes. Would you like to come? Agnes: (Just a trifle awkward) Well . . . no, I don’t think so, Edna; I ’ve so much to do. Edna: (Cooler; sad) Oh, well . . . perhaps another week. Agnes: C8a, yes; we’ll do it.®^ Edna tries pitifully- to hold on to the severed friendship, but it is dead. The image of death, which has permeated this play from its first act until its conclusion, is reflected again in the final destruction of the forty- year friendship. ®^Ibid., p. 171. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 64 Tobias believes Harry and Edna are right r^.en they say he must allow them to remain in his home or admit that a forty-year friendship symbolic of their entire lives is meaningless. After a violent outburst by Julia who wants the intruders thrown out of her room, Tobias sits and wrestles the entire night with the problem of the boundaries of friendship. In his ni^t-long vigil, he decides that Harry and Edna have the r i ^ t to remain in his home. In his vigil, he defines the true meaning of friend ship. What does friendship mean unless it goes to the limit of giving all one has to give? When Harry and Edna refuse his welcome he is overcome with a profound sense of loss. But it is not the loss of his guests that saddens him, but what comes with his decision. Tobias has lost his wit nesses, his anguished confession and the trials and tribulations of the previous n i ^ t have been wasted. At \diat should have been a moment of glory, he is cheated. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. BIBLIOGRAPHY Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 66 BIBLIOGRAPHY A. PRIMARY SOURCES Albee, Edward. The American Dream and The Zoo Story. New York: Signet, 1 9 6 3 . ------ . The Ballad of the Sad Cafe. New lork: Antheneum and Boston: fioughton-Mifflin, Copublishers, 1963. Box and Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung. New York: Pocket Books, 1970. . A Delicate Balance. New York: Pocket Books, 1967. . Everything in the Garden. New York: Pocket Books, 1969. . Malcolm. New York: Antheneum, 1966. . Tiny Alice. New York: Antheneum, 1965- . Two Plays by Edward Albee : The Sandbox, The Death of Bessie Smith. New York: Signet, 1963. . Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? New York: Antheneum, 1963. The Zoo Story, The Death of Bessie Smith, The Sandbox. New York: Coward-McCann, I96ÔT Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 67 3 . SECONDARY SOURCES "Albee," The New Yorker, XXXVII (March 2 5 , I961), 30-32 . "Albee Revisited," The New Yorker, XL (December 19 , 1964), 31-33» Atkinson, Brooks. "Theatre: A Double Bill Off Broadway," The New York Times, January 15, I96O, p. 27. Ballew, Lei^ton M. Who's Afraid of Tiny Alice?" Georgia Review, XX (1966), 292-299. Baxandell, Lee. "The Theatre of Edward Albee," Tulane Drama Review, T28 (Summer, I965), 19-40. Baxter, Kay M. Contemporary Theatre and The Christian Faith. New York: Abingdon Press, 19^ . "Broadway in Preview," New York Times, August 16, 1966. Brody, Jsuae E. "The Case is Familiar but the Theatre is Absurd," The New York Times, July 15, I967, p. 15 . Brustein, Robert. "Albee*s Allegory of Innocence," New Republic, CLIV, v (1966), 34-36. ______. The Theatre of Revolt. Boston: Little Brown and Con^any, 1964. Chapman, John. "Albee*s 'BeJlad of the Sad Cafe' Beautiful, Exciting, Enthralling," Daily News (New York), October 31, I963. "Albee's Play, 'Delicate Balance,' A Shimmering Start for The Season," Daily News (New York), September 23 , 1966. "Edward Albee's 'Tiny Alice,' or The Tenptation of John Gielgud," Daily News (New York), December 30, 1964. ______. "Malcolm's Life Without Father," Daily News (New York), January 12, 1966. Chiaromonte, Nicolo. "Albee Damned," New York Review of Books, I, i (Special issue I963), p. 16. Chester, Alfred. "Edward Albee: Red Herrings and White Whales," Commentary, XXXV (April I963), 296-30I. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 68 Clurman, Harold. "Theatre," Nation, CXC (February 13, i960), 153-154. Review of The Zoo Story and The American Dream. "Theatre," Nation, CXCII (March I8, I961), 242. Review of The Death of Bessie Smith. . "Theatre," Nation, CXCV (October 27, 1962), 273-274. Review of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? . "Theatre," Nation, CXCVII (November 23, 1963), 353-354. Review of The Ballad of The Sad Cafe. . "Theatre," Nation, CCIII (October 10, I966), 36I-363. Review of A Delicate Balance. . "Tiny Alice; Hu^ie," Nation, CO (January I8, 1965), 65-66. Corrigan, Robert W. "Theatre: Malcolm 'didn't mean very much,'" Vogue, CXLVII (February 15 , 1966), 56. "Criticism of A Delicate Balance," Hudson Review, XIX (Winter I966/67), 627-629. "Criticism of A Delicate Balance," National Review, XIX (January 24, 1967), p. 99. Cube ta, Paul M. M o d e m Drama for Analysis. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 3rd edition, 1965. Daniel, Walter C. "Absurdity in The Death of Bessie Smith," College Language Association Journal, VIII (19647, 76-80. Die Welt, September 29, 1959* Review of The Zoo Story. Driver, Tom F. "Drama: The American Dream," Christian Century, LXXVII, vii (i960), 193-94. "What's the Matter with Edward Albee?" Reporter, XXX (January 2 , 2 , 1964), 38-39. Dukore, Bernard F. "Tiny Albee," Drama Survey, V, i (1966), 6O-66. Esslin, Martin. The Theatre of the Absurd. New York: Doubleday & Co., Inc., 1961. Franzblau, Abraham W. "Psychiatrist Looks at 'Tiiy Alice'," Saturday Review, XLVIII, v (1965), 39 . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 69 Prend, W. H. C. Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church. New York: Anchor Books. 1967- Gassner, John. "Broadway in Review," Educational Theatre Journal, (December I966), pp. 450-452. "The Modem, the Modernist, and the Absurdist," Drama Critique, VI, ii (1963), 50-55. Gibbon, Edward. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. New York: Washington Square Press. 1962. Gottfried, Martin. "Theatre: •A Delicate Balance’," Women’s Wear Daily, September 23, i960. Grande, Luke M. "Edward Albee’s ’Bessie Smith*: Alienation, the Color Problem," Drama Critique, V, ii (1962), 66-69. Hardwick, Elizabeth. "Straight Play: A Delicate Balance," New York Review of Books, VII (October 20, I966), 4-5 . Harris, Wendel V. "Morality, Absurdity, and Albee," Southwest Review, D Œ X (Summer 196^0 , 249-256. Eewes, Henry. "Broadway Postscript: The Tiny Alice Caper," Saturday Review, XLVIII, v (1965), 38-39, 65. ______. "Broadway Postscript : Throu^ the Looking Glass, Darkly," Saturday Review, XLVIII, iii (1965), 40. "The Theatre: The Family that Stayed Separate," Saturday Review, XLIX, xii (1966), 90. Kemper, Robert Graham. "Drama: A Weekend with the ’Can do’ Family," Christian Century, LXXXIII, xivii (1966), 1447. Kerr, Walter. "Albee’s ’Tiny Alice’— Walter Kerr’s Review," New York Herald Tribune, December 30, 1964. ______. "The Theatre : Albee’s "A Delicate Balance’," The New York September 23, I966. The Theatre in Spite of Itself'. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1^3. Kibss, Pe'fcer. "Albee Wins Pulitzer Prize; Malamud Novel is Chosen," The New York Times, May 2 , 1967, p. 1 . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. TO Kitching, J. "Review of A Delicate BalL .ce," Publishers’ Weekly, CXC (October 10, 1966), 72. Lemer, Max. "Who’s Afraid of Edward Albee," Ne'i' York Post, February 3 , 1965. Lewis, Theophilus. "Theatre: A Delicate Balance," America, CXV (October 8, 1966), 432-433. "Theatre: The Zoo Story and The American Dream," America, CViii, XXV (1963)7^1^92. ______. "Theatre: Tiny Alice," America, CXII, x (1965), 336-337. Markus, Thomas B. "Tiny Alice and Tragic Catharis," Educational Theatre Journal, XVII, i î T ( 1955T7 225-233. Martin, Paulette. "A Theatre of Mystery: From the Absurdto theReligious," The Commonweal, LX3QCCV, xxi, (1966), 582-585. Miller, Jordan Y. "Myth and The American Dream: O ’Neill to Albee," M o d e m Drama, VII (September 1964), 19O-I98. Nadel, Norman. " ’A Delicate Balance’ Lacks It," World Journal Tribune, September 23, 1966. Probst, Leonard. "Review," NBC-TV News, 11:15 P. M., September 22 , 1966. Pryee-Jones, Alan. "Alan Pryee-Jones at the Theatre," Theatre Arts, XLV, V (1961), 53-58. Review of The Zoo Stoiy. Reik, Theodor. Masochism in M o d e m Man. New York: Farrar,Straus, 1958. Roth, Phillip. "Review of Tiny Alice," New York Review of Books, IV (February 25 , I965), 4 . Schechner, Richard. "Who's Afraid of Edward Albee?" Tulane Drama Review, VII, iii (1963), 7-10. Sheed, Wilfred. "Back to the Zoo," The Commonweal, LXXXII, xvi (1965), 501-502. Simon, John. "Theatre Chronicle," Hudson Review, XVIII, i (1965), 81-90. Review of Tiny Alice. Smith, Michael. "Review of 'A Delicate Balance’," Village Voice, September 29, 1966. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 71 Speilberg, Peter. "The Albatross in Albee’s Zoo," College English, XXVII (1966), 562-565. Taubman, Howard. "The Theatre : Albee's 'Who’s Afraid'," The New York Times, October 15, 1962, p. 33. "Theatre; Albee's 'Tiny Alice' Opens," The New York Times, December 30, 1964, p. l4 . "Theatre Review," Darmstadter Echo, September 29, 1959. "Tinny Allegory," Time, DXXXV (January 8, 1965), 32. "Tiny Albee," Time, LXXXVII (January 21, I966), 50. West, Anthony. "Theatre; A Delicate Balance, ’Self-indulgent'," Vogue, CXLVIII (November 1 , i 9 6 0 ) , I50. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.