A Year of Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew, Act IV

In Shakespeare’s Philosophy, Colin McGinn makes it clear that epistemology (how we know what we know) was very much on Shakespeare’s mind.  Mr. McGinn did not mention Taming of the Shrew in his discourse, but his lesson has served me well and I find it anyway.  For such an understanding greatly aids my reading of the play – especially the formerly bewildering series of scenes in Act IV.

For it is in these scenes that Petruchio “tames” Kate by putting her through ordeals that seem like torture – or brainwashing at the very least.  He denies her food and sleep.  He flies off on unprovoked rages.  He denies her a perfectly lovely dress while upbraiding the tailor for what she judges to be commendable work.

The real question is why.  What is Petruchio after?  He states in a late-night soliloquy that there is a method to his madness.  But what exactly is his aim?

The simple reading would say: neither to be crossed, confronted nor contradicted in his authority as “the man” of the house.  This is what Kate herself believes at first, protesting that the worst part of Petruchio’s behavior is that he claims to be treating her this way out of “love.” 
Love?  Not any form of the word that she has ever known! And so she continues to resist him, asserting her independence in matters of taste and perception of objective fact.

It is precisely here that Petruchio applies the heat and pressure, insisting that Kate undermine her own logic to buttress his own.  Therefore, if it’s the middle of the day and the sun is shining, she must abandon what she knows and “agree” when Pertuchio praises the radiant moon.  When an old man approaches, she is bidden to acknowledge the lovely young maiden who makes her way towards them.  Her sense of reality thereby becomes unhinged from its independent track and gets hitched to his.  Just what sort of power-hungry lunatic is he?  Did he marry for simple-minded agreement to every whim and fancy?

It would certainly appear that way.  But I love what happens in the BBC production because it is at just this moment that Kate begins to laugh.  Not merely to giggle…but to split a gut. In fact, she finds it so funny that Lucentio calls her a “merry mistress” and wonders if his fellow travelers are telling him the truth or pulling pranks.

So why is Kate laughing?  Until now, she has consented to Petruchio’s whimsy only because it presents itself as the most expedient path to get what she wants: food, sleep, a hat, the trip to see her father.  At this point, though, something within her breaks.  And it’s because suddenly she grasps what Petruchio has been up to all the while, hitting upon the that fungible difference between reality and perception – and how it can be manipulated.

Her former “shrewishness” had served as a form of social protest.  Dwelling wholly in what is and what ought to be, she has acted out idealistically from a wronged sense of justice. Her father has preferred Bianca.  She has been labeled a shrew by the townspeople.  She has been locked inside a role that was only partly her own creation.

What Petruchio offers her is the chance to play with perception to her own advantage.  By acting a certain way or saying a particular thing, she can allow people to believe whatever they want; it will have no bearing over what she or Petruchio knows to be true.  By his willingness to flout convention, Petruchio has shown her that what they perceive doesn’t matter – he just needs her to see what he sees.

She gets that now.  Which is why we are so wrong when we accept the surface meaning to Petruchio’s behavior.  If we do, we fail the very lesson he tries so hard for Katherine to pass.  They are like two kids in a sandbox.  Until now, Kate has insisted that Petruchio’s imaginary friends aren’t real.  There are no unicorns or leprechauns.  No looking glasses or journeys down a rabbit hole.

Pay attention in Act V.  For that is where these lessons in misperception (the so-called “taming”) come to bear.

The Taming of the Shrew, Induction

As I write this, I am riding the Metrolink back home from a trip to the USC medical campus to see a display on Shakespeare and the four humors before it closes.

For the measly sum of only $10, I was able to ride the rails and buses of Los Angeles, allowing me to shop for Shakespeare in one of the last great used bookshops, buy the best garlic bagels in Southern California, walk by Olvera Street and catch the exhibit before heading back.

I learned lots about the humors from a decidedly medical point of view and was surprised to see The Taming of the Shrew given as an example of choleric – being all hot and bothered. (More on that later.)

I thought all those rides would provide a great opportunity to read the play and post a bunch, but it turns out I’m confounded at the getgo by the strange introduction and need to write my thoughts out before moving on.

First off, why is the dammed thing even here? The BBC saw fit to delete it from their well-regarded filmed series of all the Bard’s works. But on what grounds?

Seems to me that’s the easy way out of a perplexing conundrum that Shakespeare purposely set up. For to read the text literally, Taming is not the “real” play but rather a play within a play – and a production put on for a prank no less.

In the preface, we meet Sly (hmm…), a drunkard who passes out after engaging in a disagreement with a bar wench. A bored Lord saunters by and decides to have a bit of fun.

He takes the boozer home under orders to treat him as regal upon waking, to convince him that his former wastrel life was but a dream.

At the risk of writing the longest post of the year, this reminds me of a story Mr. DuPratt used to tell us in high school about his favorite writer, Ambrose Bierce.

Bierce, he said, was fascinated by the idea that a person could become anybody he or she wished by leaving town and changing identities. Who we are is just a custom, a habit as easily cast off as a snake’s skin. It happens all the time in witness protection programs.

But if that’s the case, what is real about who we are? Not only is this important for understanding the introduction, but I will argue that it matters when attempting to understand the nature of Kate’s “shrewishness” and love as well.

I’ll leave it at this for now. But shame on the BBC for assuming they could just lop off the inconvenient bits and carry on. Shakespeare included the sly introduction for a reason!

And that’s because the nature of reality and identity are inseperably linked within this play.