[Greetings, friends, from Mesquite, Nevada! I am preparing to spend a week in St. George, Utah, with a former law professor and mentor of mine. It’s become somewhat of a tradition for me to travel to his house near the end of my book-writing process so he can review and grill me on the gaps in my transcript. (See On Iron John for the reflections that came out of my last Utah trip.)
It just so happens that this time, he also has a book that he is finishing up. Without revealing any titles or specific details, it is a book that covers Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure and early modern Catholicism. In preparation for my visit, I have been consuming everything I can find on the play and attempting to come up with my stance and interpretation of Shakespeare’s so-called “problem play.” Today’s essay is my attempt to collect and organize my (current) reflections on the play’s themes.
As a word of warning, if you have not read Measure for Measure, the rest of this essay may be a little obscure and hard to follow. But I tried to make this essay relevant and accessible to anyone, regardless of one’s general familiarity with the text and dialogue. That said, I will be the first to admit that my success in this effort is suspect at best. I will also be the first to admit that this type of essay will probably only appeal to a narrow audience. So, if you take now as the opportunity to opt out of this essay, no offense will be taken.
But for those of you still with me, it is to Measure for Measure, and its reflection on Mercy, Justice, and Iniquity that we devote the rest of today’s essay.]
Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure is a “problem play.” Not quite comedy, not quite tragedy. Or so it usually said.
The play features a Duke (Vincentio) anxious about the character of his citizens temporarily entrusting the rule of the city of Vienna to the deputized puritan Angelo. When the Duke hands over the keys at the start of the play, he does so, claiming to have been called away to a foreign land. As he takes his leave, he tells Angelo:
We shall write to you,
As time and our concerning shall importune,
How it goes with us, and do look to know
What doth befall you here. So fare you well.
To th’ hopeful execution do I leave you
Of your commissions.1
Here, Shakespeare sets the stage for Measure for Measure to, like all great myths and plays, “hold as ‘twere the mirror up to nature.” For what “doth befall” them refers not only to events in the play, but to events in Vienna, and to the events on Earth yesterday, today, and tomorrow. “This news is old enough, yet it is every day’s news.”
How it goes in Vienna is how it goes with us. Measure for Measure, as it turns out, is just an extended reflection on the human condition. And in Shakespeare’s genius, it is also something like an extended meditation on a couple of passages in the Bible.
The first comes in Mark 4, which inspires the title:
For nothing is hidden, except to be revealed; nor has anything been secret, but that it would come to light. If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear. And He was saying to them, Take care what you listen to. By your standard of measure it will be measured to you; and more will be given you besides.2
Compare this with a companion verse in Matthew 7:
Do not judge so that you will not be judged. ‘For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. ‘Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?’3
Then there’s the story of Jesus at the Mount of Olives in John 8:
But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. Early in the morning He came again into the temple, and all the people were coming to Him; and He sat down and began to teach them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, and having set her in the center of the court, they said to Him, ‘Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act.’ ‘Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do You say?’ They were saying this, testing Him, so that they might have grounds for accusing Him. But Jesus stooped down and with His finger wrote on the ground. But when they persisted in asking Him, He straightened up, and said to them, ‘He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.’ Again He stooped down and wrote on the ground. When they heard it, they began to go out one by one, beginning with the older ones, and He was left alone, and the woman, where she was, in the center of the court. Straightening up, Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said, I do not condemn you, either. Go. From now on sin no more.’4
Keep these verses in mind. We’ll come back to them throughout the rest of this essay. But first, we need a summary and some context.
Measure for Measure: Summary and Context
The play begins with the Duke of Vienna, Duke Vincentio, staging a test of his citizens and its stewards. Announcing he has been called away on foreign business, the Duke appoints his highest deputy, Angelo, to take over city operations and enforcement of its laws. But instead of leaving his town, the Duke disguises himself as a friar to see how things play out and discover the true nature of his province, its subjects, and his deputy.
Angelo, whose name gives away his idealistic nature, steps in to enforce the city’s laws more rigorously, holding the city to the same puritan standard of moral behavior that he believes himself to embody. The Duke, as he assumes his disguise as friar, is the first to raise the question: can Lord Angelo live up to the standards he would hold others to? “For in the way you judge, you will be judged…”
Lord Angelo is precise,
Stands at a guard with envy, scarce confesses
That his blood flows or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see,
If power change purpose, what our seemers be.5
In his first act of business as stand-in Duke, Angelo decides to raze all brothels and reinstitute laws against promiscuity including the death sentence for sex outside marriage. The first victim? A man named Claudio has impregnated his pledged wife, Juliet, before their marriage has been fully and finally consummated.
As Claudio is dragged off to prison, he asks his sister, Isabella (who is about to take holy orders as a nun), to intercede with Angelo on his behalf. Isabella agrees and appears before Angelo to appeal on her brother’s half. Angelo initially refuses but finds himself moved by Isabella’s purity and modesty. So Angelo relents, agreeing to let Claudio go… on one, hypocritical, condition: that Isabella sleep with Angelo.
Isabella is horrified and refuses to offer. How could she sacrifice her immortal soul, she asks, to redeem her brother? To whom, she asks, echoing Sophocles’ Antigone, can she petition for redress? Who would believe her that the content of Angelo’s character is so different from his reputation of one who is upright?
O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!6
While all this is happening, the Duke, who has remained disguised as a friar, strategically observes conversations and conditions in the city’s shadows and within the prison walls.
As the time for Claudio’s execution draws near, the Duke formulates a plan to resolve the situation, save Claudio’s life and Isabella’s sanctity, and expose Angelo’s hypocrisy. Allying himself with Isabella, the Duke (disguised as the friar) arranges two tricks: (1) a bed trick (Mariana will take the place of Isabella in bed with Angelo);7 and (2) a head trick (the head of the recently-deceased pirate, Ragozine, will be presented to the Duke as Claudio’s head).
After successfully executing both tricks, the Duke “returns” and slowly reveals that he has been with them the entire time disguised as the friar. All the things the characters thought they had done in secret slowly come to light. “For nothing is hidden, except to be revealed; nor has anything been secret, but that it would come to light.” The play ends with the Duke dishing out punishments (e.g., making Angelo marry Mariana) and proposing marriage to Isabella (and not receiving an answer before the play concludes).
A few pieces of historical context help us see how such a story might capture the interest of a 17th-century audience in Vienna. In Shakespeare’s time, the Puritans (represented by Angelo) regarded themselves as the spiritually “elect” and prided themselves on their precision. “Precisian” in those days was practically synonymous with “Puritan”. Like Angelo in the play, the Puritans of Shakespeare’s day advocated for moral and political reform that involved, among other things, the destruction of theatres and drama for the same reason Angelo orders the brothels of Vienna destroyed—they were promoting public indecency. The Puritan preacher Philip Stubbes gives us the party stance on this subject: “Do they not maintain bawdry, insinuate foolery, and renew the remembrance of heathen idolatry? Do they not induce whoredom and uncleanness? Nay, are they not rather plain devourers of maidenly virginity and chastity?”
Measure for Measure is Shakespeare’s dramatic defense of the theatre through a veiled critique of what he viewed as Puritanism’s proud, merciless hypocrisy. As the archetype of Puritanical arrogance and self-deception, Angelo is the mirror through which the Puritans of Shakespeare’s day might see themselves and their tendencies. Through Measure for Measure, Shakespeare held the Bible against the Puritan sentiment of the day, not to debase or devalue public morals, but to improve them… it was his way of reminding people in his day: “[B]y your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.”
The Measure Used is the Measure Applied
Read without the Biblical lens, Measure for Measure is the “problem play” that many scholars claim it is. But with the Biblical lens, the play makes perfect sense. Like the Bible or Dante, Measure for Measure mirrors a world that is a tragedy (ending in despair) for some and a comedy (ending in redemption) for others… depending on the characters’ actions.
The plot of Measure for Measure also follows the rough framework of the parables in the gospels. The master takes an absence, the subordinates misbehave, and the master returns and makes things right. (This is also the plotline, generally, of the Sorceror’s Apprentice… see On the Sorceror’s Apprentice.) Even the names seem to have Biblical undertones—Duke Vincentio (translates to conqueror, like Christ); Angelo (translates to his idealistic insistence); Lucio (corresponds to a Luciferian advocate of vice); Isabella (translates as “consecrated to God” and might be thought of as the bride of Christ).
What Shakespeare wanted to do in his day was hold the Bible up against the conduct of the Puritans in his day just as Jesus did with the Pharisees at the Mount of Olives and through his parables. When the Pharisees call for the stoning of a woman found guilty of adultery following a strict interpretation of the Old Testament,8 Jesus disarms them with the point: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. This is, in essence, what Shakespeare is subtly reminding the Puritans of his day. The standard and measure applied to others shall be the same to you.
As interim Duke, Angelo violates this rule in the most obvious way possible, sentencing Claudio to death for a slightly different variant of the same sin he’s guilty of. “You have heard that it was said, ‘YOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY’; but I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Angelo is quick to remember and enforce the first part of this command and just as quick to forget the second, believing Claudio to be blameworthy and himself to be blameless.
Everything that Jesus says to the Pharisees and people in Mark 4, Matthew 7, John 8, and Matthew 5 could be said to Angelo. “‘Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?’”
Just as the Greeks used their tragedies to inspire conversation and debate amongst the citizens regarding the moral direction of their community, Shakespeare was looking to do the same. Just as an Ancient Greek Athenian might watch Antigone call to question the edicts of those in power against the morality of natural law (see On Eternal Truth), Shakespeare’s audience watches Isabella appeal to a judge beyond time to stand witness when Angelo gives her the ultimatum: sleep with him or watch her brother die.
To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O, perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the selfsame tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof,
Bidding the law make curtsy to their will,
Hooking book right and wrong to th’ appetite,
To follow as it draws.9
In the tradition of Greek tragedy, all of this tees up an eternal reflection: what is the role of government in shaping the morality of its citizens? With U.S. election season in full swing, it also reminds us how what “doth befall” Vienna in the play befalls us. Politics and government are full of Angelos, quick to make “rules for thee and not for me.” And rising political tension tends to make hypocrites of us all. Each of us has the seeds of pride inside us; the most dangerous among us are those who believe they don’t.
This is why we must remember: We will be judged by how we are judged. The standards and measures we use on others will be used on us. Before noticing the log in another’s eye, we must recognize and acknowledge the plank in our own. We must weigh our self-offense first and be humble (though firm) in our opinions.
He who the sword of heaven will bear
Should be as holy as severe,
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go;
More nor less to others paying
Than by self-offenses weighing.10
—
P.S. The idea and dangers of thinking we know enough to administer “Justice” without our limited human perspective have been at the forefront of my mind recently. It’s come up a few times in the context of my book club covering the Odyssey, with Odysseus coming home and slaughtering the suitors in Ithaca. Is the death that Odysseus delivers Justice or vengeance?
This question comes up again in one of my favorite scenes in The Fellowship of the Ring. Gandalf explains how Gollum may be spilling all secrets to the enemy, Frodo curses the fact that Bilbo and Gandalf had not killed Gollum when they had the chance. In a gentle rebuke of Frodo, Gandalf cautions Frodo against exacting final judgment without having the whole picture:
‘But this is terrible!’ cried Frodo. ‘Far worse than the worst that I imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I to do? For now I am really afraid. What am I to do? What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!’
‘Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Frodo. ‘But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.’
‘You have not seen him,’ Gandalf broke in.
‘No, and I don’t want to,’ said Frodo. ‘I can’t understand you. Do you mean to say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on after all those horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Ore, and just an enemy. He deserves death.’
‘Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends…’11
William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 1.1.60-65. Every quote from Measure for Measure is taken from the Folger Shakespeare Library translation.
Mark 4:22-24.
Matthew 7:1-3.
John 8:1-11.
Measure for Measure, 1.4.54-58.
Measure for Measure, 3.2.271-272.
This one is perplexing. But as context: Angelo had previously refused to fulfill a betrothal binding him to Mariana, despite her love for him, because her dowry was lost at sea. Isabella comes to an agreement with Mariana regarding the switch (so Mariana was on board) and then sends word to Angelo that she has decided to submit to him on the condition that their meeting happens in darkness and silence. Mariana takes Isabella’s place and has sex with Angelo, who continues to believe it was Isabella in bed with him. In some interpretations of the law, this constituted consummation of their betrothal, which meant their marriage was official (under this same interpretation of the law, Claudio and Juliet’s marriage would also be legal).
The basis for the death-by-stoning punishment for acts of adultery is outlined in Leviticus 20:10-12 (“If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife, even with the wife of his neighbour, both the adulterer and adulteress must be put to death....”) and Deuteronomy 22:22-24: “If a man happens to meet in a town a virgin pledged to be married and he sleeps with her, you should take both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death.”
Measure for Measure, 2.4.185-190.
Measure for Measure, 3.2.261-267.
J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, p. 78.
This essay is truly unique. Until now, I had never read anything offering an interpretation of Shakespeare's plays. As a beginner, I must say that nothing could have been better than yours. You did an excellent job summarizing and presenting this Shakespearean play to those unfamiliar with it before reading your essay.
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I’ve been rereading 12 Rules for Life by Jordan Peterson, alongside Beyond Order. I found your essay somewhat relatable to some of his ideas in sections on self-deception and arrogance.
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A question arises: What about the person "A" who has done something wrong—something he knows is wrong, such as stealing or harming another person? It’s not that he didn’t know it was wrong at the time; his conscience objected, but he ignored it with arrogance, self-deceit, or some justification.
Now, when he sees another person, "B," stealing or harming a third person, "C," or even himself (person A), one part of A might try to object to or judge B's behavior. However, another part of A may hesitate to object strongly, not wanting to act at all or choosing to ignore it. This hesitation arises from the realization that A himself is not a saint—he is not without guilt—he has committed wrong deeds or sinned.
Should an old murderer, whether punished or not for his actions, judge or object to a new murder?