Queen Catharine Passes the Bechdel Test

In the modern era, the so called ‘Bechdel test’ arising from Alison Bechdel’s 1985 comic strip Dykes To Watch Out For, has often been used to assess the feminist credibility of new projects. The rules of the test are as follows:

The drama must feature at least two women.
They must have dialogue with each other at least once.
This conversation must not focus around the subject of a male character.

Alarmingly, according to bechdeltest.com, only 58% of films released in 2015 passed this test. Well known blockbusters such as Darren Aronofsky’s Mother! and every single Avengers film have failed.

Although the test was not around in 1698 when Mary Pix’s Queen Catharine was originally performed, this historic drama does, in fact, pass with flying colours. This success is perhaps accidentally noted in Dawn M. Goode’s ‘Duelling Discourses: The Erotics of Female Friendship in Mary Pix’s Queen Catharine‘. Using William Congreve’s The Way of the World (1700), Goode begins by suggesting that friendships between women were not valued in comparison to heterosexual romantic relationships. Plays were usually androcentric (and by extension didn’t pass the Bechdel test). Goode goes on to argue, however, that Pix’s writing spearheaded an attempt to create a feminine space. By calling on ‘the favour of the fair women’ (p. 48) and dismissing her own male ‘huffing’ heroes ( p. 49), Pix’s explicitly identified her target audience as female. Goode argues that this is representative of the growing presence of women in theatrical culture. More specifically, Goode also argues that Pix’s proto-feminist priorities also affects Queen Catharine spatially and introspectively.

Firstly, Goode highlights the extent to which this play’s underground tunnels may be considered as a gendered space. The play’s key female characters, Catharine and Isabella, both have keys to these tunnels. It is only when both give in to their heterosexual desire (by giving men their keys) that their downfall occurs. Men invade this feminine space to the women’s detriment. Secondly, this feminine space greatly influences the presentation of female relationships. Goode suggests the relationship between Catherine and Isabella is homoerotic. Goode cites as evidence for this the use of such epithets as ‘Queen belov’d’ and ‘choicest care.’ Goode further argues that Isabella’s homosexuality is the reason for her death, as Catharine’s decision to prioritise motherhood leads to a less severe punishment.

Goode’s argument paves the way for a modern retelling of the relationship between Isabella and Catharine in line with our understanding of same sex relationships ( on reading her article, we decided to try this out). Overall, Goode’s argument provides an interesting recasting of some of Queen Catharine’s relationships. Although Catherine does end the play in a maternal position, her final speech, as seen here, is littered with a homosexual significance. Catharine laments the ‘Lovely Isabella’, whose ‘soft innocence’ will guide them to safety. It is not her male lover’s death that provides her with her final emotional break, it is Isabella’s untimely demise. Perhaps Queen Catherine’s ending is even more homosexual than Goode’s argument suggests. Regardless of this fact, even compared with blockbuster film-making, Mary Pix’s 1698 tragedy’s feminine and homosexual significance strikes a unprecedentedly modern tone.

21st February 201820th June 2018

Interpreting The Text

When studying plays from the past it is often very difficult to interpret their finer details. This arises from two main problems:

English has changed significantly over the last 300 years;
The way we interpret and perceive theatre itself has also totally changed.

To address the first part of this two-pronged problem, I would suggest that the best course of action is a close reading. Before you read further, then, please check out this plot summary to avoid any unnecessary spoilers.

At the climax of Mary Pix’s tragedy, the play’s female heroine, Queen Catharine, is madly mourning the death of her lover, Owen Tutor. She is temporarily relieved from her ravings by the introduction of her children. In this moment, Lord Dacres convinces her to abandon the war and go to a monastery. Dacres proclaims that ‘there you may live in peace’; and Catharine agrees to his suggestion. This brief respite is, however, immediately undercut by the news of the death of the Queens’ ward[1], Isabella. What follows constitutes Queen Catharine’s most important display of powerful emotions in this tragedy.

Original Text

Act Five, Scene 2

Enter Esperanza

ESP: Oh Horror! Accumulated sorrows, like rowling | Billows[2], heap upon us still.

DAC: Peace, the Queen but now is calm, disturb her | With no new affliction?

CATH: I stand prepared, there’s nothing now can shock | Me; Speak!

ESP: The Lovely Isabella is brought dead. The bearers | Say her last request was your forgiveness, that | She might be laid at your Royal feet and your | Majesty would pardon her unwilling fault.

CATH: Oh Esperanza! Too late you told me of her | Intended flight. Love was her only crime, yet she proved | Fate’s cruel instrument of my undoing, why | This was, why so ordained is beyond mortal inquiry, | And I should submit. | Where is the poor unhappy Maid? Alas! | But she is past it all, and | Now find rest; for is soft innocence can reach | The bright Ethereal[3] seats; she’s surely there. | Give order for our instant March; let her corpse | Precede the dismal journey, and let us follow | As those sad friends their best beloved to the last | Stage, the Grave. | My Dacres, that the sure reception of us all, |
But they sleep best who do with honor fall.

Modern Translation

Act Five, Scene 2

Enter Esperanza

ESP: Oh My God! Sadness rolls onto us like smoke!

DAC: Be calm. Do not disturb our Queen with more bad news

CATH: I am prepared! Nothing you say will shock me! Tell me!

ESP: The wonderful Isabella has been killed. Those who bring her here say that her last request was for you to forgive her, for her to be laid before you and to receive a Royal pardon for her mistakes.

CATH: Oh Esperanza! I was told too late of her intention to leave. Love was her only crime and yet fate has used her to punish me. No-one could guess how this could have happened. I will submit to it. I wonder where the spirit of this poor young woman is now. Oh, she is beyond everything now, and simply rests; because someone who is as kind and innocent as her can find a place in heaven, she must certainly be there. Let us go now. Her body will be at the head of our sad procession, in the same way that mournful friends follow those they love to death. Dear Dacres, the grave is the final resting place of everyone; and those who die with honour rest their better than anyone else.

[Catharine and her children retreat to the safety of Beaumount Abbey]

Analysis

Give order for our instant March; let her corps precede the dismal journey, and let us follow as those sad friends their best beloved to the lest stage, the Grave.

To address the second part of the problem with interpreting plays of this period, it is important to remember that our conception of tragedy has changed very significantly over time. When this play was first performed in the late 17th century, tragedy was not primarily about fatal flaws or mistakenly incestuous heroes; it was constructed so as to exhibit extreme emotion, namely ‘passions’. Blair Hoxby’s 2015 book What Was Tragedy? sets out to explore this very brand of forgotten theatre. Hoxby suggests that passions were ‘purely displays of pathos’[4] and were ‘the primary goal and justification of tragedy.’[5] Therefore, theatregoers in 1698 were not coming to see a unique interpretation of an authentic emotion, as we might today: they were coming to see the exhibition of emotion through the use of fine-tuned technique.

This completely changes the way we view this final scene. Catharine’s character is already exhibiting extreme pathos due to the death of her lover. When Esperanza enters to break the news of her ward’s death, Catharine’s fragile assertions of her own strength in spite of her loss ultimately collapse. This second major death thus doubles the perceived pathos of Catharine’s condition, mounting more pressure on the actor’s technique to exhibit such an exponential passion.

What is key here, however, is that Catharine’s grief evolves as her speech goes on. Her passionate sadness becomes a passionate plea for safety, as she once again adds the expression of her maternal instinct to the expression of her emotions. The historical resonance of this ending would have been extremely apparent at the time. ( Check out this post to fully understand this point.) Catharine historically, is the sole royal link to the Tudor dynasty, which dominated English government from 1485-1603. Catharine’s decision to save herself and her children at the end of the play is therefore a highly significant one. It not only foregrounds the eventual victor of the War of the Roses, Catharine’s grandson Henry Tudor, but casts a significant light on the Royal seed of the Tudor family. This is highlighted by Pix’s use of military imagery, such as when Catharine speaks as though she herself were soldier, one who must ‘march’ to safety. This technique recasts her decision to bring her children to safety into a military tactic. For, as the audience would have been aware, her ancestors would ultimately be the victors in the current conflict.

Catharine thus wins the war, by being a mother. This maternal passion is therefore not only emotionally resonate, but is highly historically significant. This performance is in line with Hoxby’s suggestion that in the late 17th century, tragedy was ‘performed and embodied art.’ Catharine’s performance in this scene functions as an artistic allusion. This extreme and layered resonance is what defined a tragedy in the late 17th century. Catharine’s impassioned exit marks her position as the pathetic heart of Mary Pix’s tragedy.

[1] Ward: in this context, refers to a member of a noble house who has been taken in by another noble family to be raised.
[2] Billow: a large undulating mass of something, typically cloud, smoke, or steam.
[3] Ethereal: heavenly, delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world.
[4] Pathos: a quality that evokes pity or sadness.
[5] Blair Hoxby, What was Tragedy?:Theory and the Early Modern Canon (London: Oxford University Press, 2015), p.8.

13th February 201820th June 2018

Edward Kynaston

Edward Kynaston, or ‘the loveliest lady I ever saw in my life’[1] was born in 1640 to Thomas Kynaston and lived extravagantly for much of his childhood. His family were ‘well-descended’, living on an estate in Shropshire. Until the age of 14 Edward (known to his friends as Ned), lived there with his father, but in July 1654 he moved to London and began work as an apprentice for John Rhodes at the Company of Drapers. Although he trained with Rhodes for nine years, this move down to London introduced him to theatre and changed the course of his adult life forever.

In 1660, six years after Kynaston’s move, Charles II came to the throne and immediately reopened the theatres. Fresh-faced 20-year-old Kynaston was lucky enough to be introduced to Thomas Betterton (a hugely famous and successful actor of the time) by his employer John Rhodes. And thus began Ned’s love of theatre.

The 1660s and Charles II brought about a new era in theatre: women could perform on stage for the first time ever (previously young men and boys had been playing the role of damsel). This large and controversial change by King Charles II was originally frowned upon by many and the theatre was deemed scandalous and improper. This may have been because it was new or because women were often sexualised within the plays, but it left a substantial lack of females willing to act. And thus came Ned Kynaston’s time to shine.

Be it Aglaura[2], Ismena[3] or Arthiope[4], he clearly had a knack for playing women: he wasn’t afraid to and he did it well. So well in fact, that it was questioned whether any female actor could play women as well as he could. At the age of 20, Kynaston was, however, one of the last remaining male actors playing females. He was youthful, beautiful and fashionable; the only giveaway was his voice[6]. As they say, all good things must come to an end, and as time wore on, age began to take its toll, making it increasingly obvious that Kynaston was a man. This, combined with the increasingly popularity of actresses meant that Kynaston’s time as a woman was coming to an end. He began playing both male and female roles – sometimes within the same show, such as in Epicoene[7], where he played a boy in disguise as a woman. By 1661, with females beginning to claim their place on the boards, he knew it was time to move on. His last performance as a female came in 1661 as Evadne[5]. But this was by no means the end of his theatrical career. In fact, it was only just beginning.

Kynaston became an incredibly diverse male lead, playing varying roles including aristocrats (Guymor [8]) leaders (Mahomet Boabdelin [9] and The Black Prince [10]) and comic leads (Peregrine [11] and Valentine [12]). This diversity as an actor was uncommon, with many males sticking to and thriving in the same type of role throughout their lives – be it a fop or rover – leaving Kynaston incredibly well respected. So respected in fact, that by the late 1690s he was earning £3 a week, ten times more than a well-paid labourer at of this period.

His involvement in scathing, political comedies is where he found his forte, though they sometimes left him worse for wear. The satirical comedy The Heiress was even cancelled because Kynaston was ‘beaten with sticks’ leaving him ‘mightily bruised and forced to keep his bed’ by people who didn’t agree with the work’s content. His role was a satirical interpretation of Sir Charles Sedley, a dramatist and politician at the time, and although Kynaston only wanted laughs, he got a lot more than he bargained for. Luckily, he recovered from his injuries and the play went ahead, much to the disappointment of the attackers. Kynaston’s reputation for daring plays which pushed the societal boundaries and love of controversy only made him more popular with English audiences.

In his older years, he began to settle down, becoming heavily involved in the more administrative side of the acting companies. He even announced his retirement in 1677, although he didn’t actually retire for another 22 years…

His role as the Earl of Warwick in Queen Catharine is one of his last known performances in 1698 at the age of 58. With age came smaller parts, with actors often becoming the father or uncle or King, and it was no different for Kynaston. Although listed as one of the lead males, the Earl of Warwick has under a page of lines within Queen Catharine, simply assisting Edward IV and giving his advice to the Duke of Clarence. He is often on stage, although he says very little, indicating by just his presence that the Earl of Warwick is a respected man, and one that the younger males enjoy having around. This could in turn mirror Kynaston’s own social standing, as a highly respected man within theatre and society in general. This play was originally performed by very influential actors including John Verbruggen and Elizabeth Barry. The presence of these big names alongside Edward’s will have drawn many people to the theatre to watch the relatively unknown playwright Mary Pix’s play.

In 1712, 14 years after his final performance, Edward Kynaston died at the age of 72.

Kynaston lived an exciting and unusual life to the full. Be it rumours of his love affair with the Duke of Buckingham or his stopping of a performance for Charles II because he was unshaven, there was always gossip surrounding Ned. For that reason, in 2004 the film Stage Beauty was released, basing itself around his life story. The film is set in 1660, when women weren’t allowed to perform on stage by law, leaving Kynaston (played by Billy Crudup) as the central protagonist at the height of his career as a male playing females. Crudup chooses to play upon the foppish stereotype that was given to these male actors, exploring his sexuality and fame and the way in which this affected Kynaston as an actor.

[1] Samuel Pepys, Samuel Pepys Diary, ed. by Robert Latham and William Matthews (London: Element, 2010), Saturday August 18th, 1660.

[2] John Suckling, Aglaura, (London: John Haviland, 1638).

[3] Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, The Maid in the Mill, (London: First Beaumont and Fletcher Folio, 1647).

[4] William Davenant, The Unfortunate Lovers, (Lonodn: 1643).

[5] Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher,The Maids Tragedy, (London: Francis Constable, 1619).

[6] Samuel Pepys Diary, Saturday August 18th, 1660.

[7] Ben Jonson, Epicoene, (London: Folio, 1616).

[8]John Dryden, The Indian Emperor, (London: Henry Herrington, 1667).

[9] John Dryden, Conquest of Granada, (London: 1672).

[10] Roger Boyle, The Black Prince, (London: Henry Herringman, 1669).

[11] Ben Jonson, Volpone, (London: Thomas Thorpe, 1607).

[12] William Wycherley, Love in a Wood, (London: 1672).

1st February 201820th June 2018

Catharine and Isabella – A Lesbian Modern Retelling

As is originally discussed in our written response to Dawn M. Goode’s ‘Duelling Discourses: The Erotics of Female Friendship in Mary Pix’s Queen Catharine’, Pix subtly presents a homoerotic relationship between the two heroines, Catharine and Isabella. However, Goode comments how these ‘intimate female romantic relationships, like that between Catharine and Isabella, can occur only as the result of such isolation from the normative interactions between men and women’, as the introduction of Edward’s patriarchal Court into Catharine and Isabella’s sphere leads to the eventual demise of both characters and their relationship through Isabella’s decision to betray Catharine and give her enemies a key into the underground castle vaults.[1]

The difficulties of portraying a homoerotic relationship that Goode describes in seventeenth-century England are still a topic in today’s society, with issues such as marriage equality in Northern Ireland confirming LGBTQ rights as a constant source of dispute. Just last year, Trump’s tax reform bill sparked enormous opposition within the LGBTQ community for its detrimental impact on the gay community, as programmes offering healthcare support – such as Medicare and Medicaid – that help in the treatment of HIV and AIDs were threatened with cuts. This forward-thinking tack thus invites Pix’s play into modern debate, as the downfall of Isabella and Catharine’s romantic love has the potential for a modern retelling as a social critique on homophobia that is still widespread in present-day culture.

Furthermore, not only does a modern retelling necessitate a discussion of gay rights in our society, but more specifically it invites a deeper look at equality for lesbian women in our culture, and the bigotry they face. There is even a term for such discrimination, ‘lesbophobia’, that ‘[emphasises], and simply [designates], the hostility experienced by lesbian women […] that is rarely talked about, because they are women and they are, as such, confronted with sexism.’[2] In a modern retelling, Edward’s Court could be representative of the modern-day patriarchy feeling threatened by females who do not fit into a heteronormative stereotype. As is discussed by Jane Czyzselska in her opinion piece for The Guardian, such men as these ‘are so invested in a cultural narrative that requires a heterosexual female support act […] that they label women who transgress this social rule as legitimate targets for abusive behaviour.’[3] Due to the breakdown of Isabella and Catharine’s homoerotic relationship beginning as Edward and his male-centred Court were reintroduced into Catharine’s social space, there is certainly room for imitation between, on one hand, the banishment of Catharine and the forced marriage of Isabella and, on the other, modern-day abusive behaviour that gay and bisexual women face daily in a similar hetero-favoured environment, as they threaten the hyper-masculinity of modern-day society.

In a similar veiw, the separation of Pix’s heroines by death in the closing act, when Isabella is stabbed and killed by a member of the patriarchy, could take a modern form as the separation of two female lovers by the establishment set in Northern Ireland, Western society, not unfamiliar to more liberal audiences, which nevertheless refuses Lesbians the right to marry. As Catharine and Isabella are denied the right to continue in their ‘gynocentric space’, our modern lovers would also be refused the right to transgress the patriarchal social hetero-normative of being joined in matrimony: they are thus separated forever in the eyes of the law.[4]

[1] Dawn M. Goode, ‘Duelling Discourses: The Erotics of Female Friendship in Mary Pix’s Queen Catharine‘, Restoration: Studies in English Literary Culture, 1660-1700’, 32:1 (2008), pp. 37-60 (p. 44).

[2] S. Arc and P. Vellozzo, ‘Making Lesbophobia Visible’, Nouvelles Questions Feministes, 31:1 (2012), pp. 12-26, (p. 12).

[3] Jane Czyzselska, ‘Lesbophobia is Homophobia with a Side-Order of Sexism’, The Guardian, 9th July 2013.

[4] Dawn M. Goode, p. 44

1st February 201820th June 2018

The Wars of the Roses

Mary’s Pix’s Queen Catharine is set in the midst of social unrest. This unrest is a key precursor to the Wars of the Roses, a fierce familial struggle (not unlike a popular television show) over the English Throne which lasted almost three decades and cost an estimated 50,000 lives.

A Summary of the Wars

I’m going to try to keep this as simple as possible, but the war itself and the family trees at its heart are quite complex, so bear with me here. The term ‘Wars of the Roses’ was actually coined by historians in the 19th century. Contemporary sources refer to the conflict as the ‘War of the Cousins’ alluding to how close the familial links were on either side. Christine Carpenter summaries the unrest:

What there was from about 1437 was quite simply a crisis of kingship, which threatened eventually to become a crisis of the crown.

Although the conflict began in 1455, battlelines were drawn back in 1376 which the death of Edward III’s son Edward the Black Prince during the Hundred Years War with France. Although The King had three sons, tradition dictated that the throne must pass to the Black Prince’s son, Richard, who was just a child. Richard II was crowned King in 1377 much to the anger of his uncles, John, Duke of Lancaster, and Edmund, Duke of York. The struggle of these figures and their descendants over the same throne led to the eruption of the Wars of the Roses in 1455.

The war itself began under King Henry VI (Queen Catherine’s son.) Due to his weak-willed nature and the continuing economic fallout of defeat in the Hundred Years War with France, a power struggle emerged between Henry’s General and Lord Protector Richard, Duke of York, and his wife Margaret of Anjou, who was allied to the Lancasters. Despite her husband’s somewhat mixed position, as Michael Hicks states in his Book The War of the Roses, Margret pursued a ‘stridently anti-yorkist line’ (p. 72). Tensions in England finally erupted in 1455. York forces attempted to remove Lancaster influence from the throne, by gathering armies in the north of England and invading Lancaster territories, officially beginning the Wars of the Roses. To retaliate, Margaret made a deal with the King of Scotland for an army, attacking and severely weakening York’s power, leaving London without a king in 1460. The York family retaliated by swearing in a new king, King Edward IV, and defeated the Lancasters again in 1461. A few revenge plots and betrayals later, a Lancaster army invaded from France in 1470. York then re-invaded in 1471, killing Henry VI and his son and capturing Margaret, seemingly removing the Lancaster problem. Things then remained stable until 1483, with the death of Edward IV. Yet another power struggle occurred, this time between Edward’s brother Richard and Henry Tudor (The grandson of Catharine and Owen Tudor), both sought a claim to the throne. Tudor crossed the channel in 1485 and killed Richard. To prevent more bloody rebellion, Henry Tudor married the former King Edward’s daughter, thereby uniting the two roses under his reign and finally ending the Wars of the Roses.

So How Accurate is the Play?

Phew… after all that, it might be difficult to locate Mary Pix’s play in the middle of all these plots and invasions. The Queen Catharine that the play’s title refers to is Katharine of Valois, who married King Henry V in 1420 and gave birth to his son who later became Henry VI. As I’ve said, Henry V died in France in 1422 leaving a young windowed Catharine, who was, by all accounts still marriageable. This left a great deal of uncertainty surrounding the outcome of the English Throne: as a Frenchwoman Catherine was rumoured to be seeking French suitors due to an infant king leading to a serious power vacuum in the county. As Christine Carpenter states in her book (again aptly titled) Wars of the Roses, at this time, English parliament was ‘anxious’ about the possibility of having to ‘subvent an English government in France'( Carpenter p. 75). This suspicion and uncertainty led to old familial divisions becoming apparent.

Such tension is matched by the tone of Mary Pix’s play. However historically speaking, divisions between Lancaster and York were yet to erupt into violence at this time. Although the violence in Pix’s tragedy is thus not wholly accurate, perhaps Pix’s tragic emblems were an attempt to represent the tense zeitgeist of the time in general. Pix also seems to settle a historical debate surrounding Catharine’s death. It has been recorded that Catharine died shortly after childbirth. It is unclear whether she died as a direct result of childbirth in Westminster or from a childbirth related illness in Bermondsey Abbey. As seen here, Pix sets the ending of the play on Catharine’s journey to the Abbey for safety.

The play’s main glaring historical inaccuracy is in its royal figures. King Edward was only born five years after Catharine’s death in 1437. This creative decision could have been based on two factors. Perhaps historical records at the time were not accurate or readily available. The far more likely factor however, is that by the time of Henry V’s death, the York influence in court lacked a centralised royal figure. Due to the royal-centric nature of theatre in 1698, a political battle between two opposing families would have been best represented through the eyes of a pair of royal antagonists. Pix may have bent history in this way to make her play more accessible and entertaining. In a modern context, it’s kind of like Jeremy Corbyn and Winston Churchill competing in an election. They are figures of different political eras, but PMQs would be very entertaining if they went at each other!

Pix and Shakespeare

The play makes for an interesting comparison to Shakespeare’s work on a similar period in history. Shakespeare penned a tetralogy surrounding the subject of Catharine’s husband and son, Henry V and Henry VI. Catharine is depicted as Princess Catherine, getting married to Henry V after the famous battle of Agincourt. However, Shakespeare largely avoided the period of uncertainty surrounding Henry V’s death, focusing more on the character development of Henry VI in the wake of his father’s death. During the Restoration period, Shakespeare regained a nostalgic following, with pre-restoration actors claiming to maintain Shakespeare’s very commands. Pix’s addition to a popular Shakespearean period of history is, to use a modern word, a form of reboot, capitalising on the theatrical popularity of the historical era and providing a unique perspective of an understood and widely known story. This can also be seen in the unique exploration of the secret relationship between Catharine and the Welsh courtier Owen Tudor. As audiences would be very aware of the Tudor family and its series of monarchs, an exploration into its familial history allows Pix’s play to allude to and expand on hundreds of years of English Royalist history, encompassing the three royal dynasties in its scope.

1st February 201820th June 2018

Game of Roses

Much of the world that George R. R Martin creates in Game of Thrones is based on real history, at least to some extent. Admittedly there were no fire breathing dragons or death-defying white walkers in the early modern period, but parallels can certainly be drawn between medieval England’s War of the Roses and Martin’s medieval yet fantastical Westeros.

Martin often chooses to base his characters upon real figures who lived and fought during the War of the Roses and it is also the time period in which Mary Pix’s Queen Catharine is set. Characters burst into life from the pages of history with Martin choosing their new paths.

The Lancasters are the Lannisters.
The Yorks are the Starks.

But it’s really not that clear cut. Sides were changing, allegiances were destroyed and lives were lost – all in a quest for power.

Leading figures from the Wars of the Roses appear in Queen Catharine. Versions of these figures also appear in Martin’s writing, where they go by the names of Robb Stark and Robert Baratheon; Tyrion Lannister; Sanza; Walder Frey; and, breifly, Cersei.

Game of Thrones War of the Roses

Robert Baratheon/Robb Stark Edward IV

Robert Baratheon and Robb Stark display Edward IV in different stages of life and maturity (if Robert Baratheon could be called mature). Baratheon is often seen to be the character mostly directly inspired by history and with his *spoiler alert* early death in the series, Martin was able to play around with the character whilst still remaining true to history. In the words of Robert himself, he is happy to let others ‘run my kingdom while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave’[1], which is exactly what he did. So did Edward IV.

Although Baratheon poses more similarities to Edward IV in history, there are, in Queen Catharine, more comparisons to be drawn between the young Edward IV and Robb Stark. Edward’s opening speech presents him as a man of immense power, with friends who are ‘worthy’[2] of him, describing himself as having ‘the Force and Arm of Hercules’[3]. Although Rob is more subdued than Edward, he is brave and strong and wins every fight. These large egos are both entwined with bitterness, with Edward’s entire storyline resting upon his anger towards Queen Catharine for rejecting him. This anger comes hand in hand with shame and leads to him *spoiler alert* kill her lover Owen Tudor. This can also be seen in Robb Stark’s overarching storyline, although his reason for revenge is much more substantial: to avenge his father Eddard Stark who died at the hands of the Lannisters (or, perhaps, ‘Lancasters’). Pix depicts Edward IV as a petty man, unlike Martin, relying heavily upon other characters to do his dirty work, including the Duke of Gloucester and the Earl of Warwick. My comparison breaks down a little here as this is a contrast with Robb, who takes control and leads from the front. Yet both Robb and Edward were particularly successful in battle (much to the disappointment of their enemies), and although we don’t see Edward fighting in Queen Catharine, he is successful in his quest for revenge. Robb, on the other hand, is less successful, *spoiler alert* dying in his unfulfilled quest for revenge at the hands of Walder Frey (Earl of Warwick), who ironically is on the same side as Edward IV in Queen Catharine.

Tyrion Lannister Richard III

Both Tyrion and the future Richard III (known as the Duke of Gloucester in Queen Catharine) are described as being ‘monstrously deformed’[4] and are easily cast as villains. Richard III was even written about by Shakespeare, where he is depicted as being one of the foulest villains in English history. They are both figures whose real lives are unclear due to the lies and rumours that were spread about them. They were despised by their respective countries and unloved by their families, with Richard having two large uprisings against him during his reign and Tyrion switching allegiances, they led difficult lives. Richard may have been more fitted to the stereotype of a power-hungry, scheming man than Tyrion, as displayed in Queen Catharine when he calls Edward ‘Godlike’[5] and offers to dispose of Owen Tudor, simply to gain the approval of Edward and be seen as his ‘faithful Brother’[6]. Richard was clearly hated, as he was buried in an unmarked area in Leicester after his death in battle and although Tyrion is still alive and many viewers’ favourite character, his rebellion against his own family may gain him the same respect as Richard in death: none.

Perhaps the similarities between Tyrion and Richard lie only in their described appearances, as although both are seeking power, Richards self-centred scheming way of doing so contrasts Tyrions morally correct ‘for-the-people’ attitude.

Walder Frey Earl of Warwick

Although fans have made comparisons between Walder Frey and the Earl of Warwick, the similarities are few and far between when it comes to the depiction of Warwick in Queen Catharine. In real life, both were only out to gain power (an overarching theme in both Game of Thrones and Queen Catharine it seems), but this isn’t the Earl of Warwick intention within the play, arguably because he has reached old age (hence Edward Kynaston playing him). Both the Earl and Walder Frey are small parts but where they do get involved damage and loss seems to follow. Walder Frey is a power hungry character shown particularly in his lead in arguably the most shocking Game of Thrones episode – the Red Wedding. Walder Frey commits the ultimate betrayal switching from Stark to Lannister and in doing so *spoiler alert* kills multiple members of the Stark family. The Earl commits the same betrayal during the War of the Roses. During Queen Catharine the Earl is still in allegiance with the Yorks, indicating that the play is set before his betrayal (but Queen Catharine is arguably not historically correct). He is present for much of the action and involved in the central focus of the plot unlike Walder Frey who is often sidelined and features rarely. Both the Earl and Walder Frey are ignored many times as they give unwanted advice, with Warwick saying ‘you were offered… aid, which you despised’[7] and Walder Frey stating ‘they’re laughing at us!… right down to King’s Landing, they’re laughing’[8]. Walder Frey is more bitter than the Earl of Warwick, but their shared need to be on the winning side shows how petty and similar these characters really are.

Sanza Isabella

Both of these passive females are traded around for political gain. Isabella is an altogether weaker character than Sanza, however, as she is reliant on people who have more power than her: Queen Catharine and the Duke of Clarence. This weakness is epitomised in her forced marriage to Sir James Thyrolld, where it would ‘never have come to this’ if her ‘Beauty was no greater than [her] politicks’[9]. Sanza, in much the same manner is forced to marry Joffrey and Ramsey Bolton, who are arguably the two most evil characters in Game of Thrones. Each time, though, Sanza *spoiler alert* overpowers them, whether purposefully or not; Isabella, on the other hand, dies a lost cause.

Cersei Lannister Margaret of Anjou

Although she doesn’t make an appearance in the play itself, Margaret is mentioned several times in reference to her power and authority, in much the same way as Cersei. Both of these strong female figures use their weaker-willed royal husbands (Robert Baratheon and Henry VI) to gain more power than they are entitled to as women. It is seemingly unclear as to who is in charge, with Owen Tudor stating ‘lead your forces to the Camp of Henry or Margaret, I know not what to call it’[10] and Cersei stating herself ‘I should wear the armour and you the gown’[11]. These two ruthless females’ only redeeming quality lies in their motherly nature, with their immense love for their children being their only sign of humanity. Both of these women defy the passive female stereotype which is employed throughout their respective periods of history, taking their fates into their own hands, and often being more successful than the men.

The Wars of the Roses were an unpredictable time of betrayal, love and war, and now many see in it a way to determine the future of Game of Thrones. George R. R Martin on the other hand, says:

It’s exciting because I can change history, I can decide who’s going to win and who’s going to die.

[1] Game of Thrones, dir. by Tim Van Patten (HBO, 2011). Season 1, Episode 1.
[2] Mary Pix, Queen Catharine: or, The Ruins of Love, a Tragedy’ (London, 1698), p. 1.
[3] Pix, ibid.
[4]Jeffrey R. Wilson, ‘Richard III’s Deformities’ in Harvard University Online (The President and Fellows of Harvard College, Harvard Univeristy, 2018).
[5] Pix, p. 5.
[6] Pix, ibid.
[7] Pix, p. 25.
[8] Game of Thrones, dir. by Jack Bender (HBO, 2016). Season 6, Episode 6.
[9] Pix, p. 42.
[10] Pix, p. 19.
[11] Game of Thrones, dir. by Daniel Minahan (HBO, 2011). Season 1, Episode 6.

1st February 201820th June 2018

Plot Summary

Mary Pix’s 1698 play Queen Catharine: Or, The Ruins Of Love, A Tragedy is an historical adaptation of the War of the Roses, that fictionalises Edward IV’s plot for revenge against Queen Catharine, the wife of the late Henry V.

A visual diagram of the play’s military and romantic relationships.

Edward opens the play with a speech to his council, describing their impending meeting with Catharine’s army in battle. He discusses with his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, why he still seems forlorn at the sound of Catharine’s name, recalling his brief courtship with Catharine when he was a young man at Court. He recounts how she rejected his love, finding out that she was, in fact, in love with Owen Tudor. When asked why he had not taken his revenge on Tudor, Edward admits that in is youth he was outdone in combat, however, now that he is older and wiser, he desires vengeance. The Duke offers up his services in that regard, offering to kill Tudor in front of Catharine. As Edward leaves, Malavill- a spy for Gloucester- informs Gloucester that he witnessed his brother, the Duke of Clarence, meeting with Catharine’s maid, Isabella, in secret, attempting to persuade her to flee the country with him.

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