Titus Andronicus and Civility: An Argument for a Moral
Distinction
I chose a game of chess to illustrate the plot
of Titus Andronicus in order to
illuminate the stark disparity between chess—symbolic of the “civilized” and
orderly—in contrast to the immense amount of brutality in the play. This is the
general opinion of some viewers and critics of Titus Andronicus, many of whom have
dismissed the play as an “impious and tasteless play” (Frederick 205) meant to
please base crowds of Elizabethan peasants. Until the 1950s, “Titus
Andronicus was quietly ignored by scholars and directors” (Tempera 109).
Even since its return to the public consciousness in the twentieth century, Titus Andronicus is still often considered
a lengthy ode to senseless violence, a commentary on the moral decline of Rome,
and a tribute to the savagery and brutality that can be socially sanctioned
within a “civilized” society. The chess game presented on the website is meant
to satirize this common reaction to the play, which is to get hung up on the
gory details and neglect the subtext in terms of character motivations,
circumstances, and textual precedents. The website also uses the deaths in the
play illustrate how the laws and structures of “civilization,” as symbolized by
the structured, rule-governed game of chess itself, fail to account for the
atrocities that are carried out with full authorization by the state. My
comments on each stage of the game are intended to make (obnoxiously,
exaggeratedly) clear the simplistic slasher gore-fest moral degradation reading
of the play so that it could be contrasted to a different version of Titus.
The initial comment
of note on this revenge tragedy bloodbath is that to enjoy the play, the viewer
must suspend their cultural and social predispositions and buy into the gore.
Shakespeare wrote the thing for Elizabethan England and set it in ancient Rome.
Therefore before dismissing the play as sensationally gruesome, it is to be
noted that for the intended audience, “the loss of a hand was a common form of
punishment for treason” (Tempera 109). When Shakespeare wrote the play, the
public was still accustomed to the public beheading of criminals. Furthermore,
during the Roman Empire, when the play is set, the concept of civilization came
with a whole separate set of codes and moralities, including a certain revenge
code that will be important later.
In the critique of
civilization as an institution in Titus--much
of which centers on the failings of crumbling, headless Rome--Titus' character
has been widely condemned for his decisions to kill Alarbus, install Saturninus
as emperor, give Lavinia to Saturninus in marriage, kill Mutius, and so forth.
Because of these perceived failures in judgment or morality, Titus as a
positive symbol of Roman civility has been all but dismissed. He has been
relegated to the level of the barbarians because of his violence in the play.
Killing Alarbus, Mutius, Chiron and Demetrius, and Lavinia are all seen as extravagant
instances of bloodshed. However, deeper investigation of Titus' circumstances,
social atmosphere, status, and heritage will shed new light on the matter.
As Danielle St.
Hilaire points out in her article “Allusion and Sacrifice in Titus
Andronicus,” Titus' position at the beginning of the play is a tricky one.
As a general and a Roman, Titus bears a certain obligation to the Roman state,
to which he has already given years of service and the lives of 21 of his sons.
Titus—whose history as a general predisposes him to act decisively in sticky
situations—comes home to find headless Rome weakened by the war with the Goths
and divided between constituents of the deceased emperor's two sons. While the
modern reader might denounce Titus' condemnation of Alarbus, St. Hilaire
contends that Titus' move in the crypt is “not a break from Roman tradition but
rather is rooted deeply in that tradition” (St. Hilaire 314). St. Hilaire offers the perspective that
Alarbus’ sacrifice is offered by Titus as a substitute for war. As discussed
during a brilliant session of this year’s Shakespeare and Film class, the
standard revenge code within a revenge tragedy dictates that a person seeking
revenge must ensure two things: the first, that they dish it out worse than
they got it, and secondly that the victim sees it coming. In the context of 21
dead sons and that harsh revenge code, Alarbus’ sacrifice by Titus seems more
of an appeasement than an act of needless violence. Rather than an act of
vengeance, Titus is offering less than the minimum requirement for a vengeance
killing; Alarbus’ death is intended to lay to rest the blood feud that exists
between the Andronici and the Goths. While it was completely within his rights
to destroy the Goths entirely by “pursuing
a wide-ranging vengeance against those who have so endangered his social order,
Titus instead moves to cauterize Rome’s near- is
criticized, is also more complicated than simple misjudgment of character. St.
Hilaire further argues that "given Saturninus’ willingness to ‘defend the
justice of [his] cause with arms’ (I.i.2) and his order to his followers to ‘draw
[their] swords and sheathe them not / Till Saturninus be Rome’s emperor’
(I.i.208–9), Titus’s course of action may well be the only way to prevent a war
from breaking out" (St. Hilaire 318).
Having established a certain amount of
wisdom in Titus' character, let's go a step further. One moment highlighted in
the chess match and by Titus' critics is when he kills his
son Mutius. Contextually, Titus is trying to prevent Bassianus from kidnapping
Lavinia. Marcus, the stalwart and noble politician, observes Bassianus'
"suum cuique" right to Lavinia. Andrew Hadfield describes Marcus'
comment as recognition not only of the proverbial "to each his own," but
also of the obligation of men to "to respect another man’s property and
not disturb his rights to his goods for their own advantage" (Hadfield
195). Despite Bassianus' claim, Titus recognizes the dangerous position that
his family will be placed in if Saturninus' will is thwarted. In his attempt to
avert alienation from the unstable new emperor, Titus acts on his right as
pater familias (Saller) and as a Roman General to slay his rebellious son.
Despite this sacrifice on Titus' part, his fears are realized when Saturninus
denounces the Andronici as "confederates all thus to dishonor"
(1.1.343) him, and takes Titus' enemy Tamora as his bride. The following
atrocities committed against Titus' family—his son-in-law's murder, his
daughter's mutilation and rape, two of his sons' wrongful beheading, the
pointless sacrifice of his own hand, and his last son's banishment—are a result
of Tamora’s (and Aaron’s) empowerment by her marriage to Saturninus, which is a
direct result of Titus' sons and daughter defying their father in his bid for
peace.
So far,
all of Titus' actions can be seen as attempts to repair or at least prevent
further deterioration of the social and political situation within Rome.
Sacrificing Alarbus, installing Saturninus as emperor, and killing Mutius are
all the lesser of two evils within their precarious contexts. After the
apocalypse of mutilation and death rained down on his family as previously
listed, Titus' attitude shifts. Under guise of madness, he embraces the revenge
code that he rejected in the first scene, determining to return to Tamora as he
has received, only worse. Through a series of events and a seriously poorly
thought-out plan on Tamora's part, Titus corners her two sons, Chiron and
Demetrius. They are summarily briefed, butchered, baked, and banqueted upon by
their mother, in accordance with the revenge codes. As Tamora partakes of her
posterity-pastry, Titus kills Lavinia. Much has been said about the how
Lavinia, “the mutilated and abused woman, becomes a symbol of the broken body
politic of Rome” (Hadfield 195). Julie Taymor’s film “Titus” does an excellent
job of portraying Lavinia’s death as the consensual, merciful death of a young
woman who has seen retribution and has no further interest in life. But beyond
the mercy of the act, Titus killing Lavinia also a symbolic denunciation of
Rome's moral shortcomings as evidenced by Lavinia’s mutilated body.
Titus' inherent goodness cannot be truly
appreciated unless contrasted with the accompanying wickedness of Aaron. Titus'
actions, while violent, are prompted by a desire to preserve the peace and
functionality of society within Rome. Aaron, conversely is described by Eldred
D. Jones as “one of those artists in villainy who take delight in evil for its
own sake” (Jones 178). He lacks any apparent motive for his crimes other than
sheer enjoyment.
Beginning
with his introduction in Act II of the play, Aaron is primarily concerned with
destroying the lives of any who cross his path. His first conversation in the
play ends with him convincing Chiron and Demetrius to ravish and mutilate
Lavinia. It is Aaron who sets into motion the plot to kill Bassianus and frame
Quintus and Martius for the murder.
Aaron convinces Titus to stoically offer his own hand in payment for his
already dead sons' lives. He kills the nurse for the sake of keeping his
getaway clean, and if you've seen Julie Taymor's Titus, maybe just for
the look on Chiron's and Demetrius' faces when he stabs her, squealing “Weke,
weke! --so cries a pig prepar'd to the spit” (4.2.21). He then skips town with
his child by Tamora and gets caught by the banished Lucius. Aaron sells his
story as a commodity, trading it for the guarantee of safety for his child.
Ultimately, however, under duress Aaron seems fiendishly delighted to divulge
the depths of his devilishness to his shocked spectators. When asked if he
regrets his abhorrent actions, Aaron answers “Ay, that I had not done a
thousand more” (5.1.122). His defiance continues to the very end: “If one good
deed in all my life I did/I do repent it from my very soul” (5.3.188-9).
The line
between civilized and barbaric, between good and evil, can be seen clearly in
the dichotomy of motivation between Titus and Aaron. While Titus struggled
against the social and political chaos around him, Aaron delightedly increased
that chaos. Far from a moral decline, Titus' character displays a stalwart
opposition to the corruption that had crept into Rome. Truly, if Titus is the
weak-minded and morally reprehensible fool that many consider him, The
Tragedy of Titus Andronicus would not be a tragedy at all. The tragedy
stems from the twisted fate that serves such gruesome dishes to a politically
and socially conscious man.
Oh, and here are my sources.
