A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Shakespeare and the Space Between
Bottom (Matt Holland) surrounded by a group of mischievous fairies. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
“He was not of an age! But for all time”
- Ben Jonson (Preface to the First Folio, 1623)
This oft-quoted sentiment about the Bard can be used to justify the centuries of Shakespeare’s staying power. I certainly cannot account for all audience preferences spanning the past five-hundred years and my own tendencies towards feminist-readings of literature prevent me from applying terms such as “universal” lightly, but it’s hard to deny that William Shakespeare had a unique way of getting to the heart of what it means to be human. While Shakespeare is undeniably bound up within his own social mores and concerns that may seem foreign to a contemporary audience (the unquestionably patriarchal context of Elizabethan marriage or the repeated themes revolving royal succession come to mind), there remain types and tropes within Shakespearia as fresh and vivid today as they were in the late 16th century. Audiences can readily delight in the antics of the beloved clowns such as Touchstone or Feste or feel the pangs of young love with Romeo and Juliet or the frustration of Hamlet’s existential crisis. And they do.
Most of Shakespeare’s plays are good (Comedy of Errors or Measure for Measure). Some of them are truly great (Hamlet or As You Like It). Even the more problematic and less popular works will contain iconic characters or stunning language or well-wrought scenes that make their exploration and production worth the time. His depictions of human nature, for better or for worse, lend to the wide appeal of his plays. Shakespeare’s lasting success also comes from his ability to use (and re-use) successful “formulas” and structures. He is creative, but also very practical in his construction of appealing stories and protagonists. His worlds are full of wise-fools, confused young lovers, cross-dressing, struggling leaders, violence, revenge, shipwrecks, and fantasy.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one of Shakespeare’s most iconic works, and one of his greatest. It works so well because it exploits several of his most familiar tropes in a stunningly effective manner. Midsummer is one of his best examples of using environmental structure to parallel the inner-struggles of his characters. Shakespeare uses a three-part structural formula frequently in his works as he follows a completely predictable pattern: establishing a status quo, subverting the status quo, and returning to the status quo with newly discovered insight. Incidentally, this pattern is used in tragedies as well as comedies, the final outcome essentially determining the play’s genre.
Love triumphs over death in the celebration of three marriages in Midsummer, (photo by Josh Mouatt).
In Shakespeare’s world the two main genres are comedy and tragedy, both interacting with many of the same ideas and themes. Both comedies and tragedies deal with power struggles and love, but one ends in death and the other in life (or sex). Tragedies end in death. The higher the body-count, the more tragic the tale. This is further complicated by the perceived innocence of some of the victims. Consider Romeo and Juliet or Desdemona, victims of misunderstanding, oppression, and perhaps loving and trusting too much. Death is the final end of human consciousness, an “undiscovered country,” and, therefore, a fitting ending to a tragedy. Death is the end of life, but also the end of hope and the end of change. Comedies, on the other hand, almost always end in sex. Shakespeare loves ending a comedy with a wedding . . . if not a double, triple, of quadruple wedding as in the case of As You Like It. Marriage is the ultimate “happy ending” within this classical mode because it signals the beginning of a new chapter, the promise of children and hope, and the sense that no matter what has been lost . . . life will move on and the cycle will begin again.
Life, Death, and the Space Between
Midsummer is such a deft comedy because it is operates effectively on several levels. First, is the way that Shakespeare weaves together three very different worlds and experiences: the lovers, the Mechanicals, and the fairies. Second, is the aforementioned way he uses his three-part plot structure to expose his themes of love and conflict. Third, he plays upon a variety of his most familiar themes of conflict (men vs. women, parents vs. children, city vs. country, fantasy vs. reality, and so forth) in a clear and entertaining manner. All these pieces fit together seamlessly to create a delightful and enduring classic that can be enjoyed on multiple levels.
Lysander and Hermia attempt to subvert her father’s wishes in the Act I. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
One of the cleverest tricks of Midsummer is that Shakespeare sets the initial tone and conflict of the play as a tragedy. Four days before the celebration of the marriage of Duke Theseus and his conquered war-bride Hippolyta, an angry courtier, Egeus attempts to use the ancient laws of Athens to force his headstrong daughter, Hermia, to marry Demetrius rather than the man she loves.
This device effectively establishes the rigid status quo Shakespeare will later subvert. It has all the indicators of a patriarchal world from which there is no room for exploration, emotion, and love. The letter of the law states that Hermia must be subjected to her father’s will or face the consequences of death or a nunnery to live her days as a virgin. The rules apparently cannot be bent. The rule of law remains unquestioned and, typical of the patriarchal mode, it establishes a high-stakes and unwinnable situation for women. Hermia has no agency in this context, her life and sexuality will be controlled by male authority at all costs. Even Thesues, the personification of the law of the land, cannot override what has been written within the boundaries of the city.
The city itself is the embodiment of male authority, and the source of complete unhappiness for anyone involved. When such a rigid system of law is imposed, leaving no room for matters of the heart, no one “wins.” Logically speaking, could a father really be “happy” if his daughter was actually executed for disobeying him? Even if he wins by the letter of the law, he stands to lose the one thing he cared for.
The rule of law negatively impacts all the characters introduced in this first scene. Hermia faces terrible consequences if she dares defy her father, Helena (jilted by her former lover) sulks about miserably without the promise of marriage, even the upcoming binding between Theseus and Hippolyta seems to be on rocky ground after Theseus sides with the law rather than with the young lovers. In spite of these challenges, there is nothing to be done. The law is the law and hierarchical power exists for a reason in this world: to bring order to an otherwise chaotic universe. This is very much in line with Elizabethan concepts of hierarchy and The Great Chain of Being. Law, order, and hierarchy are what make the universe work. God orders the universe in a certain “natural order” for a reason and this means men must have more authority over women, parents must have more authority over their children, and so forth.
The space between, in this case a fairy world. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
This static and hopeless premise would make for a rather grim comedy if the characters were forced to comply forever to these hierarchical rules. Shakespeare is wise enough to know that although the “ideal” remains, social rules are bent and that liminal spaces exist for dreaming, playing, and ultimately learning. These spaces, however, cannot exist within the physical limitations of the city.
Whether it is the Island of Illyria or the Forest of Arden, the second phase of Shakespeare’s structure moves his characters into a “green space” or a liminal world that is physically removed from the city. These spaces signify both the physical removal from the impact of patriarchal law and order and the psychological removal from the need to play socially constructed roles whether those roles are determined by gender or social status. This is why women so frequently adopt male dress and take on alternative identities - on the surface it may be to somehow “protect their honor,” but this type of gender play goes far beyond simply donning a disguise. While the respectable Viola could not pursue Orsino, as Cesario she can form a deep bond a trust and friendship with the besotted duke.
The Lovers in Midsummer venture into the woods specifically to escape the rule of law. It is no accident, by the way, that Lysander and Hermia seek refuge with Lysander’s dowager aunt, a woman of means whose very existence subverts the social hierarchy. In order to reach the aunt, however, they must pass seven leagues by night through a mysterious wood.
While this particular green space is not beholden to the rigid rule of Athens, it contains its own structures and forces ruled by passion and nature - the “rules” of the heart rather than of the head. It isn’t long before Lysander and Hermia encounter the strange influences of the fairy world ruled over by the squabbling King Oberon and Queen Titania, whose recent conflicts have begun to tear at the fibers of the invisible curtain that separates the fairy world from the human world. As Titania passionately appeals to Oberon in an attempt to resolve their discord:
These are the forgeries of jealousy:
And never, since the middle summer’s spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb’d our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck’d up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land
Have every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents.
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock.
The human mortals want[ their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest.
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: the spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which:
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.
The human world and the fairy world are bound together (whether or not the humans can perceive this connection) and Titania and Oberon bear responsibility in maintaining a balanced harmony in their marriage to continue the cycles of nature. The royal fairy couple mirrors the royal human couple in their ability to control the fates and fortunes of those around them. Logically speaking, Theseus could override the letter of the law (which he eventually does), just as Oberon could relinquish his claim on the Indian boy and restore a harmonious relationship with his bride. But, matters of the heart and passionate conflicts come into play and both characters must struggle through the options before deciding to move forward. It isn’t an accident that these struggles occur in the dark of night outside the city.
Puck and Oberon conspire together against Titania. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
The setting of the forest also introduces another unpredictable element in the playfully chaotic and mischievous Puck. Oberon’s loyal fairy henchman is well-meaning, but often distracted and his mistake leads to the comic misunderstanding between the quartet of lovers. While Oberon is invisible in the woods he happens upon the heartbroken Helena who has pursued Demetrius into the woods just as Demetrius pursued his unwilling bride-to-be. Oberon, confused by the seemingly unnatural situation of a woman pursuing a man, takes pity on Helena and resolved to intervene on her behalf. This conscious decision to interject himself into the human conflict is an interesting turn in the play. Oberon, for all the mystery and magic, still represents the power of male authority. It is simply strange to him that a woman would have to chase a man, it disrupts the natural order of things, even in the playful realm of the forest. There seems to be tension here in terms of Shakespeare’s world view. While the rules of gender roles within Athens are expected to be clearly defined, it seems as if traditional roles in the forest realm would be open to a more liberal interpretation.
Under the influence of fairy-magic, confusion abounds. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
The hours of darkness in the forest are rife with misunderstandings and play. Nothing is as it seems and nothing is as its expected to be. The quartet of lovers is whipped up into a state of frenzied jealousy as the once-maligned Helena suddenly finds herself pursued by Demetrius and Lysander. This highly energetic and comic scene marks the play’s climax, all the while Puck and Oberon sit as spectators to confusion. Oberon catches Puck’s mistake almost immediately and yet, perhaps by virtue of being King of the Fairy World and ruler of the liminal space, allows the foolish mortals to stumble through the situation with sighs, tears, pain, and rage before he sets things right.
The forest is meant for play and fantasy. Even the Mechanicals steal away from the city and their own ordinary lives as craftsmen for rehearsal. The laborers turned amateur players are incredibly aware of their role in Athens and refer to each other by both name and craft: “Snug the Joiner” or “Nick Bottom the Weaver.” The notion of making a play to celebrate the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta, however, allows each to indulge in the fantasy of “playing” another person and of creating something ephemeral. In the city they make furniture or cookware or weave cloth. They create practical material goods. Later on in the forest, however, they make a play, which unlike a cabinet or kettle, has no practical application. While each character is invested in producing the play, the ever-imaginative Bottom aspires to play every character from “lover” to “tyrant” to “lion” and enjoy a fanciful escape from the ordinary context of his identity.
The Mechanicals prepare themselves for a rehearsal. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
Once the Mechanicals reach the forest to rehearse, their fantasy world of The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby takes on another dimension. Here, the inexperienced performers begin to transform themselves from a joiner to a lion and from a bellows mender to Thisby. Rehearsal quickly turns into an encounter with the supernatural as Puck, unable to control himself, decides to literally transform Bottom from man to ass. Once again, the liminal space serves as a playground for fantasy.
Titania lays claim on her new lover. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
From this point on, Bottom lives through a dream world, spirited away by the beautiful Fairy Queen and her servants into her bower. Multiple realities exist in this state of confusion. Although she is under Oberon’s spell, for all Titania knows, she is in love with the newly transformed Bottom. And Bottom, ever good-natured, gives into the fantasy never questioning his sudden good fortune. All the while, Puck and Oberon watch the scene play out and laugh at the absurd pairing.
All good things must come to an end. The lovers cannot spend the rest of eternity chasing each other around the woods. Oberon cannot allow his beloved wife to remain besotted with an ass-headed human. The world must be set into a right balance again, even if assisted by a little magic.
The lovers are reunited in the hours of daylight. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
While the audience has witnessed the intricacies of magic and misunderstanding turned inside-out and back again, the characters emerge from the liminal space in the morning unsure of what happened, but with a newfound knowledge and purpose.
When Theseus, Hippolyta, and Egeus happen upon the sleeping lovers at the edge of the wood in the morning, they are surprised to see the “rival enemies” Lysander and Demetrius side-by-side without conflict. Even Demetrius is unsure of how exactly he experienced such a change of heart over his “love” of Hermia:
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power-
But by some power it is - my love to Hermia,
Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
Which in my childhood I did dote upon,
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betrothed ere I saw Hermia,
But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.
Once Demetrius publicly relinquishes his claim to wed Hermia, the power of the “law” of Athens is essentially broken and Theseus suddenly has to problem with overbearing Egeus’ will. Possessed by the fairy-induced knowledge of his “true” love Helena, Demetrius suddenly has the power to overturn the seemingly unbreakable Athenian law from Act I. A more cynical reading of Demetrius’ newfound interest in Helena suggest that it is but for the intervention of a magic potion that he feels love for her and that, in a sense, he will spend the rest of his life unwillingly under a love spell. Other readings of this revelation suggest that Demetrius’ love for Hermia was always a kind of “bad magic” or a “sickness.” He did love Helena once and truly, but for a time he inexplicably was under Hermia’s spell. Oberon’s magic, therefore, undid the false magic and allowed him to love Helena again.
In any case, the experiences in the forest led all lovers, Mechanicals, and fairies to experience transformations that ultimately lead back to the “real world” with a fresh perspective. Yes, the world will go back to order and rule. In this world the couples will be wed and live “happily ever after,” in this case meaning the vibrant and witty Helena and Hermia will not utter another line of dialogue. The Mechanicals perform their play and manage to take enough of that fairy magic from the forest into the court in order to charm the Duke and his guests will their incompetent yet earnest performance. So too, Titania and Oberon will reach a peace. Oberon does “win” in the end over the matter of the Changeling boy, but the spat was irrelevant because ultimately that the fairies will once again serve their purpose and “sing and bless” the human world.
And they all come together in the end. (Photo by Josh Mouatt.)
It is an utterly charming story as Shakespeare’s stories have the power to charm and seduce audiences into fanciful worlds of seemingly unending possibility. He does seem to suggest change and growth and even social subversion are possible. But change happens little by little and only when we are open to experience places of play.
