Linking Falstaff and Hotspur: Doll and Kate

In this text, I wish to reinforce the idea that there is an intended association of Hotspur and Falstaff [1] by pointing out a parallel between two scenes in 1 Henry IV and 2 Henry IV, the first play culminating in Hotspur’s death, and the second in Falstaff’s rejection (entailing his death as narrated in Henry V).

Before moving to the actual comparison, consider that there is, by coincident or not, a funny echo of Hotspur’s fight with Prince Hal, ensuing which Hotspur ends up dead, having obtained a thigh wound by Falstaff who claims the dead on him. (See my earlier post).

After Falstaff has thrown out Pistol, with Bardolph’s help, Doll asks him: “Are you not hurt i’th’Groyne? me thought hee/ made a shrewd Thrust at your Belly.” (1231-1232) This is interesting, given my earlier arguement concerning Hotspur’s post-mortem thigh wound as applied by Falstaff (See my earlier post).

The main argument of this text is concerned with paralleling Hotspur’s farewell scene from 1 Henry IV with Falstaff’s farewell scene from 2 Henry IV as both must take leave of their respective lovers Kate and Doll to go to the wars. Let us first at the episode featuring Hotspur and Kate and then compare it with the one featuring Falstaff and Doll.

To begin with, the context is that Hotspur must leave Kate to go off to the wars, that he “must leaue you within these two hours” (884) as he says to Kate, who rightly supposes that “Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent/ for you to line his enterprize” (929-930).

Much later, Hotspur and Kate appear again, this time effectually in company with Mortimer and his Welsh wife, and Mortimer assures her that “she and my Aunt Percy/ Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.” (1730-1731) Then follows a song sung by Mortimer’s wife after which Hotspur and Mortimer finally leave (1805 ff.).

Granted, its Mortimer and his wife, who are desperate about being separated; we are told about the latter that “shee’le not part with you” (1728), and after the song we are told that Mortimer is “as slow,/ As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe” (1809-1810). Accordingly, Hotspur had assured Kate earlier that “when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare/ I loue thee infinitely” (946-947).

Let us move on to Falstaff and Doll in 2 Henry IV. Falstaff must off to the wars, [2] and at the Hostess’ place, Doll says to him:

Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I/ shall euer see thee againe, or no, there is no body/ cares. (1091-1094)

Then follows the interlude with Pistol and after Falstaff got rid off him with Bardolph’s help, he thinks that he spends romantic time alone with Doll (1229-1306)—he is unaware that Hal and Poins in drawers’ disguise are eavesdropping from 1256 on; notably, musicians have entered to play for Falstaff and Doll (1247 ff.). After Hal and Poins have revealed themselves, Peto enters with the message that Falstaff must off to the wars, saying that

a dozen Captaines,/ Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes,/ And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe. (1385-1387)

Falstaff then takes leave of the Hostess and Doll with heavy heart (1401 ff.), though it is implied that Doll is being sent after him once more as Bardolph bis her again to “come to my Master” (1417).

Concluding, in both 1 and 2 Henry IV there are similar scenes of farewell involving Hotspur (and Mortimer) and Falstaff. Both must off to the wars and take leave of their lovers, that is, Lady Percy (and Mortimer’s Welsh wife) and Doll. In both cases, romantic music is involved, and both farewells are emotionally charged.

Granted, there is no exact structural parallelism in terms of episode or scene; for example, Kate and Hotspur‘s intimate exchange comes early in 1 Henry VI, while the music session and actual farewell come only later. Similarly, in 2 Henry IV, Doll and Falstaff‘s time together is not only interrupted by Pistol but also by Poins and Hal.

There is no proof then that the parallelism is meaningful, but I suggest that the relation between Falstaff and Hotspur is thereby reinforced and that it may well have been intended thus.

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[1] Such an intended relation coheres with similarities between those figures observed independently, see S. A. Small, “Hotspur and Falstaff,” The Shakespeare Association Bulletin 16, no. 4 (1941): 243-248. A parallel seems also implied in the following text, though it was not available to me. L. L. Levin, “Hotspur, Falstaff, and the Emblem of Wrath in ‘1 Henry IV,’“ Shakespeare Studies 10 (1977), 43-65.

[2] To be sure, that Falstaff must off to the wars we know from early on as  the Lord Chief Justice declares that he must against the enemy “with Lord Iohn of Lancaster” (460), and who complains again that “you loyter heere too long being you/ are to take Souldiers vp, in Countries as you go” (789-790).

First published on May 18 2025 on Ko-fi

08/31/2025

Hotspur’s “double death” in 1 Henry IV [updated 31.08.2025]

This text is a comment on Hotspur’s death in 1 Henry IV and its significance for the entire Lancasterian tetralogy. It peculiar because, having been killed by Prince Hal, he is once again killed (as it were) by Falstaff, and his death is thus linked with both figures in the play.

To begin with, let me note what on my interpretation all three figures (Prince Hal, Falstaff, and Hotspur) at least partly represent.

Firstly, Hotspur very much denotes chivalric virtues. Firstly, King Henry wishes that his loose son Hal should be like Hotspur (81 ff.), whom he calls “the Theame of Honors tongue” (84), and “sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride” (86). (See also 1914 ff.) Secondly, Prince Hal himself gives testimony of his reputation calling him “This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight,” (1960) notes that “euery Honor sitting on his Helme,” (1962) and speaks of his “glorious Deedes” (1966 and 1968).

Secondly, Falstaff, of course, together with his companions, is linked with loose behaviour of every kind including thievery, whoring, drinking, and gluttony, and this coheres well with the fact that scholars have observed that he owes something to the Vice from the Morality Plays. [1]

Thirdly, given his soliloquy toward the beginning of the play with the incipit “I know you all …” (296 ff.), it must be assumed that Prince Hal has all along been standing for the contrary of what Falstaff represents; in other words, his denunciations of Falstaff, while having been inseparable from jest and merry-making in the beginning, have always incorporated a serious core, which eventually comes to the fore at the end of 2 Henry IV when Hal, now crowned King Henry V, banishes Falstaff and his fellows.

Moving on to Hotspur’s death, it is clear that Prince Hal kills Hotspur in a battle one against the other, right after he has saved the King his father from being killed by Douglas (2984 ff.). Moreover, Hotspur is killed by Hal, right after Falstaff himself has been “killed” by Douglas, though Falstaff, of course, is “resurrected” in a moment’s time, as he was only counterfeiting. In fact, Hal’s farewell to Falstaff ensues directly after his final words to Hotspur, and we learn that Falstaff and Hotspur must be laying close by, as, promising to return, Hal says to Falstaff “Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye” (3075).

In other words, I suggest that Shakespeare’s setting these “deaths” (one real, the other apparent) one next to the other may be reinforcing a presumed association of Hotspur and Falstaff, who have been argued to be linked also in terms of their speech behaviour. [2]

Now, conspicously, having just risen from the dead (as it were) after Hal left, Falstaff, being afraid that Hotspur “should counterfeit too, and rise” (3088) says:

therefore Ile make him sure:/ yea, and Ile sweare I kill’d him. Why may not hee rise as/ well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie/ sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh/ come you along me. (3089-3093)

Having wounded Hotspur’s dead body, Falstaff even claims to have killed Hotspur himself (3104 ff.), and Prince Hal does him the favour to cover up his lie, saying:

“For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,/ Ile gil’d it with the happiest tearmes I haue.” (1 H IV, 3122-3123)

Thus, notwithstanding that things are reported correctly by Morton, messenger to Northumberland, in 2 Henry IV (see 167-171), the idea that Falstaff killed Hotspur has been put out there.

In this context, note also that “thigh wounds” do have a special literary significance in epic poetry, and given that Shakespeare’s “Henriad” has been argued to be written at least partially with the Aeneid in mind, it may be not too far fetched to take a glance to Virgil’s epos. [3] There, the death of at least two figures unambiguously involves thigh wounds [4], and one of them is Turnus who has already been likened to Hotspur by M. Mueller in other respects. [5]

Thus, as D. Felton argues that the thigh wound symbolises loss of fertility or even impotence in Classical epic poetry, I suggest that, given Hotspur’s fiery character, Shakespeare links dead, thigh wounded Hotspur with vigour extinguished. Recall as part of his last words the phrase, “Oh Harry, thou hast rob’d me of my youth” (3042). [6] Again, that with Hotspur is also the “fire” (2 H IV, 173) extinguished is said by Morton, the messenger to Northumberland, in 2 Henry IV.

Thus, on this interpretation, if Falstaff is linked with the death of Hotspur, then the pretention is that Hotspur-like vigour has been killed by Falstaffian merry-making, even though it has been really killed by Hal-like abstinent virtue.

Also, by the way in which the characters are supposedly linked it is implied that Hotspur’s vigour is linked with Falstaff’s merry-making. With Hotspur being dead, consider Falstaff’s deterioration in 2 Henry IV, where he is closely linked with malady, old age, and sinfulness.

More generally speaking, in contrast with the merry business in 1 Henry IV, this coheres with the more somber mood in 2 Henry IV, which is fraught with the theme of sickness, and loss of vigour aptly glosses much of its going ons. For example, notice Hal’s melancholy, including his desire after “small Beere” (2 H IV, 797), which contends with his grief for his suffering father. Also consider how Falstaff indulges in nostalgia together with Shallow.

In conclusion, I suggest that Falstaff and Hotspur are linked, and that, for better or worse, Prince Hal’s killing of Hotspur in 1 Henry IV is the first step of Hal’s reformation, which is complete only in Henry V, and that the second is his rejection of Falstaff. Finally, as both characters are symbolically linked, I think that Hotspur’s death in 1 Henry IV at least partly accounts for Falstaff’s adapted characterisation in 2 Henry IV.

As an afterthought [added 31/08/2025], recall that in Taming of the Shrew Shakespeare parodies chivalry when he has Sly, the drunkard, declare to the Hostess, when he is thrown out of the tavern:

Y’are a baggage, the Slies are no/ Rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, we came/ in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Pau-/cas pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa. (6-9)

Against this background, and not to mention Sir Toby Belch from Twelth Night, it comes as less as a surprise that Shakespeare should have also somehow linked Falstaff, the debaucher, with the heroic Hotspur in his Henriad.

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[1] See B. Spivack, “Falstaff and the Psychomachia,” Shakespeare Quarterly 8, no. 4 (1957): 449-459.

[2] See S. A. Small, “Hotspur and Falstaff,” The Shakespeare Association Bulletin 16, no. 4 (1941): 243-248.

[3] A. Woodmansee, The influence of Vergil’s Aeneid on Shakespeare’s Henriad, Diss. (Stanislaus: California State University, 2014).

[4] D. Felton, “Thigh wounds in Homer and Vergil: Cultural reality and literary metaphor,” Resemblance and Reality in Greek Thought, edited by A. Park (London: Routledge, 2016), 255-274.

[5] M. Mueller, “Turnus and Hotspur: The Political Adversary in the ‘Aeneid’ and ‘Henry IV,’” Phoenix 23, no. 3 (1969): 278–90.

[6] Curiously, Hotspur is even linked with childishness proper, as he is called “Mars, in swathing Clothes, This Infant Warrior” (1932-1933), and, though more ambiguously, he is also called “Child of Honor and Renowne” (1959), and “Northerne Youth” (1965).

First published on May 18 2025 on Ko-fi

05/18/2025

Love “metamorphised” in “Two Gentlemen” and “Midsummernight’s Dream”

Starting from Two Gentlemen, I argue in what follows that Midsummernight’s Dream uses a similar plot-device on which depends the resolution of the play, namely, that of a certain kind of “metamorphised,” ill-matched love. [1]

To begin with, consider briefly the case in Two Gentlemen, which is outlined in the play transparently, and which serves here as the model to be compared with Midsummernight’s Dream.

In Two Gentlemen, we witness how Proteus originally loved Julia; but when he is sent after Valentine to Milan to the court (on the behest of his father, Antonio, importantly), he forgets Julia over falling in love with Silvia, just as Valentine suddenly forgets his disdain for love, thus entailing rivalry for Silvia. In the end, part of the play’s resolution consists in rematching Julia and Proteus, even though Silvia simply drops out of the play.

Similarly, though perhaps less transparently set out, in Midsummernight’s Dream, we learn through Lysander that

Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,/ Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,/ And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes,/ Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,/ Vpon this spotted and inconstant man. (115-119)

However, Demetrius now loves Hermia who, however, is also loved by Lysander just like Proteus and Valentine became rivals in love of Silvia.

Notably, perhaps, the conflict seems linked with meddling of Egeus (Hermia’s father) who imagines a match between Demetrius and Hermia,[2] just like the conflict emerged in Two Gentlemen  when Protheus was sent by his father to Milan.[3]

In conclusion of the play, Demetrius and Helena are rematched just as Lysander and Hermia are.

Moreover, the parallelism between Helena and Julia implied by this interpretation is re-inforced as they share the treat of following their respective lovers who just abandoned them. Julia resolves to “vndertake/ A iourney to my louing Protheus” (981-982), while Helena is determined to “follow thee [Demetrius], and make a heauen of hell,/ To die vpon the hand I loue so well.” (622-623)

Yet again, notice Helena’s complaint that

ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,/ He hail’d downe oathes that he was onely mine./ And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt,/ So he dissolu’d, and showres of oathes did melt […]. (256-259)

This may recall Julia who tells us about Protheus’ oathes of love (1044 and 1050). Again, the imagery involving Hermia’s heat may be recalled when Protheus, pondering over his metamorphised desire, notes that

[a]t first I did adore a twinkling Starre,/ But now I worship a celestiall Sunne […]. (938-939)

and how he notes about his former Julia:

  (That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw’d,/ Which like a waxen Image ‘gainst a fire/ Beares no impression of the thing it was.) (855-857)

One could add the blind-Cupid imagery on which both plays rely to gloss their plots, and a further hint at their connection could consist in the “beautfiul-eyes”-motif which seems concentrated consistently on Silvia in Two Gentlemen and Hermia, her parallel figure, in Midsummernight’s Dream, but I will pass over this.

In conclusion, it may be noted that in both cases some love “metamorphised,” which is ill-matched, poses the problem of the play. Accordingly, the resolution both of Two Gentlemen and Midsummernight’s Dream seems to consist at least partly in re-establishing the former love before its “metamorphosis.”

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[1] I used the Folio versions as reproduced on the Internet Shakespeare edition as for citations from Two Gentlemen and Midsummernight’s Dream.

[2] Again, Silvia’s rejection of Thurio, who is the Duke, her father’s favourite, may be recalled by Hermia’s refusal to like Demetrius who is imposed on her by her father Egeus.

[3] This could be read as intended match of Protheus with someone like Silvia; notably, Protheus kept his love for Julia secret before his father (see 380 ff.).

First published on May 2 2025 on Ko-fi

05/02/2025

Machiavelli and Lucretius: Part 1 (The ship-wrecked sailor)

The objetive of this and the following posts is to reinforce Machiavelli’s relation with Lucretius as a source of inspiration. (I’ll provide a survey of literature some other time.)

I wish to argue today that Machiavelli employed Lucretius’ image of the newborn infant as a ship-wrecked sailor on two occasions, firstly, in his Vita di Castruccio and, secondly, in his Asino, though in neither of the cases the context of the ship-wreck has been adopted.

To begin with, consider Lucretius’ passage from De rerum natura in Book V (222-227):

Then further the child, like a sailor cast forth by the cruel waves, lies naked upon the ground, speechless, in need of every kind of vital support, as soon as nature has spilt him forth with throes from his mother’s womb into the regions of light, and he fills all around with doleful wailings (vagituque locum lugubri complet)—as is but just seeing that so much trouble awaits him in life to pass through. (V.222-227) [1]

We may first point to Machiavelli’s Vita di Castruccio [2] where we read that Dianora, about to find the abandoned child:

Turning her eyes toward it [a rustling], heard a sound like weeping (piangere). So, moving toward it, she saw the hands and face, surrounded by the leaves, of a baby boy who seemed to ask for help (pareva che aiuto le domandasse).

Machiavelli’s weeping (piangere) child, “who seemed to ask for help” (pareva che aiuto le domandasse) may recall Luretius’ child who is “in need of every kind of vital support (indigus omni vitali auxilio, 223-224), and who “fills all around with doleful wailings” (vagitque locum lugubri complet, 226)

I argue elsewhere that this imagery may be linked with the role which Lucretius ascribes to pity in V.1019 ff. in the context of his description of softenend mankind. By hypothesis, this explains the fact that Dianora, at first sight of the child is, amongst other things, “full of compassion and amazement” (ripiena di compassione e di stupore), and that Antonio is “not less filled with wonder and pity” (non meno si riempiè di maravilia e di pietade) when he sees the boy.

Moving on to Machiavelli’s Asino, here again we encounter the Lucretian image of the helpless newborn as the hog-transformed man advertises his animal-condition in the last extant chapter of the unfinished poem:

Every animal among us is born fully clad; this protects him from weather cold and harsh under every sky and on every shore. Only man is born devoid of all protection; he has neither hide nor spine nor feather nor fleece nor bristles nor scales to make him a shield./ In weeping (pianto) he begins his life, with the sound of a cry painful and choked, so that he is distressing to look at (miserabilie a vedello). (VIII 118-124)

Here, the human child is born helpless in contrast with animal pubs, and begins its life with weeping, expressed here as in the Vita using the word pianto. Moreover, this helplessness evokes pity, one of the presumed germs of civilisation, the Lucretian “softening” of mankind, which is here put in terms of miserabilie a vedello.

While it has been argued that this image could be actually drawn from Pliny’s Historia naturalis (VII.2-3), I tend to favor Lucretius’ as a source of inspiration. Though Pliny also develops the comparison between essentially helpless man and naturally well-adapted animal, I propose that Lucretius’ distinction between hard and soft race of man should be viewed as one of the influences of his Asino. [3]

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[1] Cited after Lucretius. On the Nature of Things, trans. W. H. D. Rouse (Cambridge, MA: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press, 1924).

[2] This point has been made first in M. Burkard, Essays on Machiavelli’s Conventional Piety, Literary Inspirations, and Pre-Christian Preoccupation (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambrdige Scholars Publishing, 2024), 95 ff. There the argument is made in context with Livy amongst other things. Other references to Lucretius can be found on page 85 ff. concerning the Vita and on page 104 ff. concerning Machiavelli’s Epistola.

On the book see: https://www.cambridgescholars.com/product/978-1-5275-7033-7

(Advertisement*) To buy the book on Amazon click: https://amzn.to/4gWS8uX

[3] A text on this is work in progress.

First published on April 2 2024 on Ko-fi

04/02/2025

Post 3: Machiavelli and names 2

Following up on the post Machiavelli and names

A concrete example of how Machiavelli uses names etymologically is constituted by his re-naming of the servant of the wife of the senex amator in his Clizia against the background of Plautus’ Casina.

In Plautus’ play the servant of the senex’ wife called Chalinus is introduced as some kind of military man, which is suggested by such words as “armigerus” (“soldier”; ll. 55 and 257) and “opitulari” (“shield-bearer,” l. 263). [1]

By way of contrast, Machiavelli’s Eustachio, the senex’ wife’s servant in Clizia, is introduced as a “fattore,” and we learn that he is running a farm outside the town. Sofronia advertises her candidate for marrying Clizia as follows:

[M]en’s manners consist in having some ability, and knowing how to do something, like Eustachio, who is used to doing business in the markets, rnning the frm, taknig care other people’s affairs and his own, and is a man who can keep his head aboe water. (II.3) [2]

Accordingly, Eustachio is arguably derived from the Greek word εὐσταθής, meaning “well-based, well-built” (amongst other things), or its cognates. [3]

I am not aware of any other reason, or source, why Machiavelli may have chosen this name.

Finally, consider also the argument by R. L. Martinez concerning the name “Sofronia” as he suggests that it alludes to sophrosyne. He writes:

Sofronia embodies, both etymologically and behaviorally, the Hellenic (and traditionally female) virtue of sophrosyne (self-restraint), romally rendered in Latin as temperentia but also as moderatio, pudicitia (chastity), sobrietas, even sapientia. [4]

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[1] See Casina, The Casket Comedy etc., Loeb Classical Library, edited and translated by W. De Melo (Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London: Harvard University Press, 2011).

[2] Cited after The Comedies of Machiavelli, edited and translated by D. Sices and J. B. Atkinson (Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc. (2007).

Incidentally, Eustachio’s description resembles much more the way in which Plautus’ other slave, Olympio, the senex’ candidate is characterised in Casina.

[3] After the dictionary by Lewis and Short, cited online from Logeion.

[4] R. L. Martinez, “Benefit of Absence: Machiavellian Valediction in Clizia,” in Machiavelli and the Discourse of Literature, edited by A. R. Ascoli and V. Kahn (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1993), 117-144; pp. 132.

 

First published on 13th November 2024 on Ko-fi

11/13/2024

Post 2: The “Knight’s Tale” as a Source of Falstaff’s Death from “Henry V”?

The description of Falstaff’s death in Henry V is very famous. We read:

Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,/ eyther in Heauen, or in Hell./ Hostesse. Nay sure, hee’s not in Hell: hee’s in Arthurs Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a/ finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome/ Child: a parted eu’n iust between Twelue and One, eu’n/ at the turning o’th’Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with/ the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fin-/ gers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was/ as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. Ho now/ Sir Iohn (quot I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a/ cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now I,/ to comfort him, bid him a should not hinke of God; I/ hop’d there was no neede to trouble himselfe with any/ such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his/ feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they/ were as cold as any stone:/ then I felt to his knees, and so/ vp-peer’d, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone. (830 – 847) [1]

The passage is dense, and not editorally obvious due to textual issues, but I wish to make a point on the motif of Falstaff’s cold feet only.

As an influence editors usually cited Plato’s description of Socrates’ death from the dialogue Phaedo where we read that

this man who had administered the poison began examining him, and when some time had passed he probed his feet and legs and then he pinched his foot hard and asked if he could feel it. 118A He said, “No.” And after this the man felt his shin once more, and working upwards in this way he showed us that he was going cold and stiff. And again, he touched him and said that when it reached the heart, he would then be gone. [2]

However, it may perhaps also be true that Shakespeare was inspired by Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale where mortally wounded Arcite is dying in a similar fashion (just like his direct model Arcita from Boccaccio’s Teseida). We read:

And with that word his speche faille gan,/ For from his feet up to his brest was come/ The coold of deeth, that hadde hym overcome,/ And yet moreover, for in his armes two/ The vital strengthe is lost and al ago./ Oonly the intellect, withouten moore,/ That dwelled in his herte syk and soore,/ Gan faillen whan the herte felte deeth./ Dusked his eyen two, and failed breeth,/ But on his lady yet case he his ye;/ His laste word was, mercy, emelye! His spirit chaunged hous and wente ther,/ As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher./ Therfore I stynte; I nam no divinistre;/ Of soules fynde I nat in this registre,/ Ne me ne list thilke opinions to telle/ Of hem, though that they writen wher they dwelle./ Arcite is coold, ther Mars his soule gye! (2799-2815) [3]

I wish to emphasise the phrase according to which “from his feet up to his brest was come/ The coold of deeth” (2800-2801), and that Arcite’s fading is associated with the moment “whan the herte felte deeth” (2805). Perhaps similarly, the hostess puts “Clothes on his/ feet” (844-845), and puts her hand into the bed to feel them, moving then upwards, and upwards. Again, as R. S. Fraser has argued also [4], Falstaff can be read as associated symbolically with the heart, and the Hostess even seems to call him as “poore hearte” (616).

Moreover, in terms of topic, as with Arcite’s death his soul is at stake (“ther Mars his soule gye” [5]), so in Henry V the question is explicitly posed where Falstaff will reside after he passed away (in “Arthur’s bosom”).

Again, one may argue that his crying out “of Women” (850) on his deathbed echoes Arcite’s final words “mercy, Emelye” (2808).

Generally speaking, Falstaff can certainly be called, like Socrates, a misleader of youth, but one may point instead to his mock-chivalric presentation as Falstaff, the knight. And Shakespeare certainly knew and estimated the Knight’s Tale, already if we consider merely the fact that he drew on it on the very least for constructing his plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and for co-writing the late play Two Noble Kinsmen. It may be more probable a source than Plato whose writings were certainly less well-known and far spread at the time.

This argument will be spelled out in a forthcoming text (unpublished).

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For other opinions on Falstaff’s death, including the connection with Socrates, see, for example, P. M . Cubeta, “Falstaff and the Art of Dying,” Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900 27, no. 2 (1987): 197–211. https://doi.org/10.2307/450462.

[1] “Henry V (Folio 1, 1623),” Internet Shakespeare Editions, University of Victoria, NaN undefined NaN. Web. 2 Nov. 2024. https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/H5_F1/complete/index.html.

[2] The Dialogues of Plato, translated by D. Horan, https://www.platonicfoundation.org/translation/phaedo/ (accessed on 02.111.2024).

[3] See G. Chaucer, “The Knight’s Tale,” The Riverside Chaucer (Houghton-Mifflin company) as cited on https://chaucer.fas.harvard.edu/pages/knights-tale-0.

[4] R. S. Fraser, “‘The king hs killed his heart’: The Death of Falstaff in Henry V, Sederi 20 (2010): 145-157. Available on jstor.

[5] In contrast with Chaucer’s description of Troilus death in Troilus and Cryseide, where Chaucer is almost as elaborate on the fate of Troilus’ soul as Boccaccio is on the fate of Arcita’s soul, his refusal to say anything about the fate of Arcite’s soul is conspicuous.

 

First published 2th November 2024 on ko-fi

11/06/2024 2 Comments

Post 1: Machiavelli and Names

Part of my work is guided by the assumption that Machiavelli bestowed his names carefully such that their signification is important for interpreting the works in which they feature. This is in line with a certain tradition[2] including, for example, Ovid and Boccaccio, both of which authors Machiavelli avidly read.

For example, in his Amores, Ovid tells us about the bawd Dipsa and her name in H. T. Riley’s translation from 1885: “From fact does she derive her name” (ex re nomen habet), thus linking the figure’s name and character (as it were).[1]

Again, Boccaccio, in his Decameron, explicitly links the names of his figures with that which they will represent further on when he says in the introduction to Day 1, and right before listing the members of his brigata : “Wherefore, that what each says may be apprehended without confusion, I intend to give them names more or less appropriate to the character of each.” (Cited after J. J. Rigg’s translation, 1921)

Concerning Machiavelli, and given that his Clizia is closely modelled on Plautus’ Casina,consider, for example, his renaming of Cleostrata, the wife of the elderly lover, “Sofronia.”He himself implies the significance of this particular change when he has Nicomaco say to his wife in II.3: “Sofronia, Sofronia, whoever bestowed that name on you was utterly lucid!” [my translation] (Sofronia, Sofronia, chi ti pose questo nome non sognava!)

Also, concerning the same play, A. R. Ascoli argued that Machiavelli’s choice of “Nicomaco” and “Pirro” is derived from the figures Nicostrato and Pirro in Boccaccio’s Decameron VII.9, including their signification.[3]

In a forthcoming text, I propose that Machiavelli’s choice of renaming Plautus’ Casina “Clizia” implies not only that the respective passage from Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Book IV)can help to elucidate Clizia, the play, but also that Ovid in general plays a more important role than perhaps previously thought.

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[1] For general remarks on the link between ethymology and names in literature, see “Etymologie als Denkform” in E. R. Curtius, Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter, 5. Auflage Bern und München: Francke Verlag, 1965), 486-490.

[2] For more on the figure, see K. Sara Myers, “The Poet and the Procuress: The Lena in Latin Love Elegy,” The Journal of Roman Studies 86 (1996): 1-21.

[3] A. R. Ascoli, “Pyrrhus’ Rules: Playing with Power from Boccaccio to Machiavelli,” MLN 114, no. 1 (1999): 14-57, esp. 48-54 on Machiavelli.

 

First published on 7th October 2024 on ko-fi

07/30/2024 37 Comments