The Taming of the ShrewAct I - Michael Delahoyde

INDUCTION

Shakespeare begins with what seems as if it will be a framing structure: the Christopher Sly material called the Induction. Thus he sets up a “play-within-the-play,” a gimmick especially popular in the late 1580s and early 1590s, when The Taming of the Shrew is traditionally dated — although this dating probably errs to fit the Stratfordian scheme. More likely, the play is much earlier, Shakespeare the innovator, the later playwrights the imitators, though some Oxfordians think the Induction was a later addition (e.g., Ogburn and Ogburn 160).

What might this kind of structuring device accomplish? How does it potentially enrich the experience of the play for the actual audience?
Does this particular Induction work thematically somehow with the “taming” plot itself? If so, how: what are the resonances? If not, why: what is missing? [This is one of the first common critical questions regarding this play (e.g., Wells 47; Bloom 28).]
Distinguish several theories as to why we do not get a return to the Christopher Sly framework, both textual (or historical) and artistic (or dramaturgical). Regardless of explanations, what are the effects of this odd imbalance?

Two words in and we already need to consult a footnote: “I’ll pheeze you, in faith” (Ind.i.1). This is due to Christopher Sly and his ilk being lowbrow characters using street slang. To “pheeze” he means roughly, “I’ll fix you!” — which may work punningly as a theme for the play. Belligerent drunken tinker Christopher Sly, who, threatened with a call to the police by a justifiably angry barmaid, coins the phrase, “I’ll not budge an inch” (Ind.i.14).

A tinker was a solderer and repairer of kettle, pots, and other such household metalware, … It did not take much capital or much intelligence to be a tinker…. They were usually itinerant, … even smalltime thieves and con men. At any rate, tinkers were traditionally considered rascals and rogues. (Asimov 443).

Sly pretends to be better than he is. He has pretensions to gentility, but with bungled foreign terms and the insistence that “the Slys are no rogues. Look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror” (Ind.i.3-5). The moron means William the Conqueror. Sly doesn’t even know that the correct name is William. It’s interesting that this is the particular name bungled….

The drunken Sly falls asleep. A Lord enters with his servants, discussing the merits of certain hunting dogs. According to the Huntsman, who should know, the “better dog” is one who can pick “out the dullest scent” (Ind.i.24-25). While most productions cut this seemingly extraneous exchange, if not the entire Induction, one more perceptive critic claims that this is the key to the play (Goddard, I 73; cf. Beauclerk 186): not that the assessment of the sisters in the coming play is a matter of properly judging a dog show — ugh! — but rather that the worthiest creatures have the talent to catch hints and subtleties. So as readers we need to keep alert for something one might otherwise easily miss, especially if one goes into this play with stereotypical assumptions, ready to project onto Shakespeare.

As a(n im)practical joke, the Lord enlists his other attendants to help make Sly think he’s a lord when he wakes. Everything around him — servants, luxurious surroundings, a wife (a male page in drag), the insistence that he’s been insane for many years — all will conspire to convince Sly that his sense of reality is mistaken. “Would not the beggar then forget himself?” (Ind.i.41). They will construct a new reality for him (a situation comparable to that in The Matrix or The Thirteenth Floor). The tale of a commoner tricked into thinking he is a nobleman appears in Arabian Nights, and Richard Edwards (d. 1566) — who seems to have served as a theatrical mentor to Oxford — reportedly was responsible for a work on this theme subsequently lost after publication in 1570 (Farina 73).

The Lord, a proto-Hamlet in this respect, enthusiastically welcomes a troupe of players: “This fellow I remember / Since once he play’d a farmer’s eldest son. / … / I have forgot your name; but sure that part / Was aptly fitted and naturally perform’d” (Ind.i.83-87). He also advises them not to crack up in the middle of their performance (Ind.i.94f).

In the Induction’s scene ii, the trick eventually seems to work. But first Sly tries to assert his sense of himself: “Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Burton Heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot if she know me not” (Ind.ii.16-21). A “card-maker” is, a maker of cards for combing wool, a business Shakspere was involved in (Farina 72). “Like the historical Will Shakspere, Sly has a tradesman background” (Farina 72). Oxfordians take Sly to be “a send-up of Shakspere himself” (Farina 72; cf. Ogburn and Ogburn 999-1000). Ogburn the younger thinks that the Induction shows that de Vere not only knew of Will Shakspere but was bothered by Shakspere being given credit for de Vere’s work. Sly is Will, with the Shakspere pretensions to nobility (sought through the Ardens, his mother’s side).

Traditional Shakespeare commentators note that the two towns mentioned were within so many miles of Stratford; so see? the illiterate grain-merchant Shakspere is responsible for the plays. “Burton Heath” is where Shakspere’s uncle and aunt, the Lamberts, lived. So see?! And “Wincot” has a, um, connection to Shakspere’s mother Mary Arden of Wilmcote. So see?! The Oxfordian perspective is that Wincot refers not to Wilmcote but to Wilnecote (pronounced Wincot) and Burton Heath not to Barton-on-the-Heath but Bourton Heath, both locations more relevant to the Earls of Oxford. Meanwhile, by the way, Stratford-on-Avon is never mentioned in the works (Jiménez 246-247).

Sly is offered options for indulgence: music, horse-riding, hawking, hunting. He may want to view his Italian paintings of Io and Daphne (note the Metamorphoses theme), and Correggio’s Io may have been in Shakespeare’s mind here (Anderson 106; Magri). Relevant to the coming play, “the echoes of Ovid’s Metamorphoses will suggest the empowering possibilities of transformation” (Garber 58). Interestingly, Sly begins to speak in the iambic pentameter more typical of aristocratic characters:

Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? Or have I dream’d till now? (Ind.ii.68-69)

“The tinker’s language turns from prose to verse as he accepts the greatness that is thrust upon him” (Wells 46; cf. Asimov 446). So to a certain extent he is indeed contrivedly transfigured into a lord by a web of illusion and delusion. Sly wants to go to bed with his faux wife, but excuses are drummed up that the doctors think Sly ought to take it easy and see a play — plays are good for one’s health (Ind.ii.131-136)!

Some say that although there is a vague thematic connection in Petruchio using imagination and words to transform Kate, this Induction contains no real intrinsic connection to the Taming story performed by the troupe of strolling players as entertainment (e.g., Bloom 28). Sly fades out quickly, so the “play within the play” badly coheres. It is technically true that this Induction “would serve half a dozen other comedies by Shakespeare as well or as badly as it coheres with the Shrew (Bloom 28). But, since Sly’s language turns from prose to verse as he accepts greatness and adjusts to his new identity and treatment (vs. Kate’s initially persistent inability to adjust), we will see not only the power of language to create illusion and to transform, but that that transformation is reflected in the language too. In that sense the partial frame does match the inner play. Additionally, Petruchio is likewise persuaded that he is a great lord — over his wife…. Is it possible that he too is in for an awakening?” (Goddard, I 73). In any case, de Vere writes it so that this Sly/Shakspere cannot even stay awake for a play, much less understand one or write one!

ACT I

SCENE i

Lucentio, from Pisa, arrives in Padua with his servant Tranio, announcing that he’ll study philosophy; Shakespeare knew that Padua was a “nursery of arts” (Asimov 447; Anderson xxx). The Earl of Oxford was apparently called Phoebus at court (among other things), thus a bringer of light: Lucent E.O. (Ogburn and Ogburn 159). Reference to another servant coming “ashore” (I.i.42) attests not to Shakespeare’s ignorance of inland Italian cities but of the water routes connecting them all (Roe). Further, his accurate use of Italian words and sentences attests to his first-hand knowledge (Farina 74): “Mi perdonato” (“Pardon me”) (I.i.25), “Basta” (“Enough”) (I.i.197), “Con tutto il cuore ben trovato” (“With all my heart, well met”) (I.ii.24) and the response, “Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato, signor mio Petruccio” (“Welcome to our house, my most honored Signior Petruchio”) (I.ii.25-26). This fluency in Italian phrases is not what one would have picked up in a tavern (Farina 74), or in small-town grammar school, or in the womb.

The situational premise of the actual play focuses on members of a Paduan family: Baptista, Katherina (Kate), and Bianca. “Baptista is a family tyrant and Bianca is his favorite daughter” (Goddard, I 69), prompting the elder Ogburns to detect some of Lord Burghley in Baptista, and Bianca with a touch of his daughter Anne Cecil (Ogburn and Ogburn 159). In any case, we all know how screwed up families are, and how confusing the tangle of blame as to how they got that way. Draw on your understanding of the family as a sick political entity to decode this batch.

What on the surface seems to be the cause for the state of things among these family members? What would the general Paduan citizen say about the situation?
Is there anything to say about the courtship of Bianca plotline? Why does Lucentio fall for her?
What are the subtler dynamics operating here? If Kate expressed herself in “tamer” ways, what would be her perception of the problem?
To what extent do issues of commerce influence matters in this play?
What does “shrew” mean? Come to think of it, what does “tame” mean? And can one tame a shrew? If so, isn’t it still a shrew though?

Stratfordians strain to explain Shakespeare’s Italian settings, but the Earl of Oxford traveled there enthusiastically. In 1575 he was writing Lord Burghley for money. We know he borrowed 500 crowns from a Paduan banker named Baptista Nigrone and also received a remittance from a Venetian banker named Pasquino or Benedict Spinola. The name Baptista Minola with his representative Paduan concern for wealth seems more than coincidental (Clark 105; Ogburn and Ogburn 88, 159; Farina 74).

Lucentio and his servant Tranio witness Baptista declaring to the would-be suitors of his much sought-after daughter Bianca, “For how I firmly am resolved you know: / That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter / Before I have a husband for the elder” (I.i.49-51). In other words, he’ll not consider giving suitors access to Bianca until his older daughter Katherina is essentially off his hands. Is Bianca — the name means “white” or “blank,” “as though to emphasize her colorlessness” (Asimov 449) — the docile embodiment of the implications of her name? “The next time Shakespeare uses this name it will be for a courtesan in Othello, whose external ‘whiteness,’ or purity, is at variance with her profession” (Garber 70). We value Bianca first simply for not being her ranting sister. She is the favorite and spoiled child of the dreadful Baptista, remade in her father’s image (or sprung fully armed from her father’s head). At best, she is insipid: “And as for Bianca, you can pick up a dozen of her in the first high school you happen on, any one of whom could act her to perfection by just being herself” (Goddard, I 71). A “better dog” may find her ultimately to be the real shrew here.

Katherina is on a rant when we meet her. She is outraged and outrageous in railing against them all (Baptista, old Gremio — a pantaloon stock-character from commedia dell’arte (Farina 74) — and dorky Hortensio). Katherina is called “curst and shrewd” (I.i.179) — the latter meaning primarily “shrewed” or “shrewish,” but with interesting other implications. (Women, and cats, can’t be “smart”: they’re “clever,” or “devious.”) But consider: is her nastiness justifiable?

What can we say about Baptista’s ruling that Katherine must be married first before Bianca can be wooed (I.i.50-51)? This may sound as if it’s merely customary centuries ago in Italy, but that’s doubtful, and anyway what are the motives? (Daughters = expenses. If he withholds the much-desired Bianca, he can get rid of Katherine from his household. How that happens doesn’t seem to matter.)

Also, what do you think happened to the mother in this family? (Did she conform with statistics and die in childbirth? How would that shed further light on the dynamics here?)

Katherina may be shrewish only superficially, in reaction to her environment. “Shrewd” is the relevant term — she sees what’s going on but has become imprisoned within her own set of habitual reactionary behaviors. Look at it this way: what do you think Shakespeare thinks of the generic Paduan? Then if you had a brain and had the misfortune of being a woman, wouldn’t you find yourself inclined towards Kate-hood? “Kate’s shrewishness is superficial, not ingrained or congenital. It is the inevitable result of her father’s gross partiality toward her sister and neglect of herself” (Goddard, I 69).

Lucentio remarks on Bianca’s contrasting mildness. He hears Bianca speak and gushes, “Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak” (I.i.84) — an allusion to the Roman goddess (Greek Athena) of wisdom (but also, he doesn’t realize the implications of, goddess of warfare, who, shouting a battle cry, sprung fully armed from her father Zeus’ head — so, daddy’s little girl). (And what was the brilliant wisdom she uttered anyway? Essentially, “Yes, Daddy.” Some guys think that’s brilliant.) So how does Lucentio actually “fall in love”? What are the preconditions and what exactly does he fall in love with? (See I.i.70-71, 84, 150-151, 174-175.)

Baptista will allow only tutors to have access to Bianca. Thus teaching becomes a cover for courting (and conversely, Petruchio will be teaching under the guise of courting!). I am appalled. Hortensio and Gremio, though rivals, join forces to address the Katherine problem (I.i.114f; cp. I.ii.276-277), as if it were a business venture. Lucentio will pose as a schoolmaster to gain entrance to Baptista’s household — and to “achieve” her (I.i.155) — and Tranio will meanwhile pretend to be him.

So who is master, or “who’s the boss,” is blurred, a factor operating in the other plotline coming. Legitimate courtly love should ennoble one. A rebuttal of Sidney’s Arcadia may be operating. Instead of this being healthy “feminine” subordination — experiencing emotion and victimization to make them whole — Lucentio and Hortensio are not ennobled by love but rather demean themselves socially in wooing Bianca, and Lucentio lowers himself in status.

Lucentio’s mention of going in disguise due to having killed a man (I.i.232) resembles a similar comment from Valentine in The Two Gentlemen of Verona (IV.i.) and Alcibiades about his gentleman friend in Coriolanus (Ogburn and Ogburn 120). Is this a reference to the undercook Oxford killed in what Burghley declared self-defense, or some other autobiographical incident of which we know nothing (Ogburn and Ogburn 973)?

SCENE ii

Petruchio comes on the scene, in immediate chop-logic contention with his annoying servant, Grumio, over “knocking” him (i.e., knocking for him at a local door vs. giving him a smack). He visits Hortensio. It has been said that his boasting about his mercenary motives is just big talk since these are immediately subsidiary to the game of taming. But does he indicate any mercenary motives to begin with anyway?

Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:
Antonio, my father, is deceas’d,
And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Happily to wive and thrive as best I may.
Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world. (I.ii.53-58)

It is Hortensio who in the next lines brings out the automatic Paduan assumptions: regarding a wife, “I’ll promise thee she shall be rich, / And very rich” (I.ii.62-63). Regarding Bianca, Hortensio says, “in Baptista’s keep my treasure is” (I.ii.116). Indeed, it’s the Paduans who perpetually make the most mercenary assumptions. Perhaps when Petruchio seems to confirm their assumptions (I.ii.68, 75-76), in direct contradiction with what he first has said, he’s playing along insofar as he knows that this is the way Paduans understand dealings in life. Grumio (I.ii.78-81) is crass; Hortensio is obsessed with wealth (I.ii.62-63, 118f); Hortensio volunteers his own and Gremio’s financial backing for Petruchio’s wooing — something never requested, and one wonders if needed (I.ii.214-215). Gremio dismisses education: “O, this learning, what a thing it is!” (I.ii.159, cf. 169-170). And everyone is vaguely connected — Paduans don’t know anyone well, but know of everyone or everyone’s father (e.g., I.ii.239). What does Shakespeare think of the Paduan worldview or value system?

As the plots are set in motion, Gremio reveals much about Paduan values:

Hark you, sir, I’ll have them very fairly bound–
All books of love, see that at any hand–
And see you read no other lectures to her. (I.ii.145-147)

Books to this dolt are solely propaganda, advertising. (This is why the era of the rising mercantile class is called the Early Modern Period — because we’re still saddled with the same vile consumerist cultural values where books = brainwashing, teaching = preaching. I’m professionally offended.) Later, Gremio brags about the schoolmaster he has found (the disguised Lucentio):

And by good fortune I have lighted well
On this young man; for learning and behavior
Fit for her turn, well read in poetry
And other books, good ones, I warrant ye. (I.ii.167-170)

It certainly sounds to me as if he thinks “poetry” is the name of one book and that there are others that exist, whose names escape him, such as maybe Math and, uh, that other stuff.