The opening of The Revenger's Tragedy sets forth a number of dramatic ironies, most noticeably the juxtaposition of two English theatrical traditions: the morality play, with personifications that emphasize mankind's relationship to God, and the Jacobean revenge play, wherein humanity struggles against a squalid and corrupt society of its own making. The differences in the two native traditions underscore the world as either a stage where life is played in God's domain or in man's. But even in the Renaissance drama, mankind still relies upon some form of the supernatural in his quest for justice within a degenerate world, as in Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy and Shakespeare's Hamlet. In his opening monologue, however, Vindice neither requests God's help nor any supernatural power for his intended retribution against an evil society in general, or the murderer of his beloved Gloriana in particular. As a result, [I intend to argue that] the opening scene of The Revenger's Tragedy posits a tension between the self-sufficiency of man and his reliance upon divine authority [because the stage action conveys a medieval setting that contrasts with a deliberate, humanist self-sufficiency on the part of the protagonist].

          That tension finds resolution in the second scene of the play, confirming that heaven has no place within the dramatic narrative. Indeed, while characters frequently solicit the powers of heaven or call upon the name of God, such invocations are ironic, satiric, or exclamatory oaths signifying frustration or contempt for their predicament. Justice and iniquity firmly lie within the province of humanity, which has no recourse to or desire for divine intervention. Scene two metaphorically signifies man's supreme authority, when the pervasive sexual imagery established at the opening of the play--which emphasizes the physical at the expense of the spiritual--becomes literalized in the dramatic action between the Duke's bastard son and his stepmother, the Duchess, who enter into an incestuous relationship. This scene, I suggest, stands as a theatrical thesis for the play, representing an excessive, spiritually illicit relationship within the family of man that denies and actively intrigues against God the Father or any providential power in order to invest itself with sole authority. Thus Vindice, who answers to no supreme authority other than himself, fails to elicit sympathy from an audience when "justice" has at last been served.

         The relationship between Spurio and the Duchess most clearly demonstrates this godless self-reliance, depicting a narcissism of human desire that has no fixed object or world beyond its own immediate, "relative" needs. The dramatic action of scene two figuratively suggests that humanity has become a god unto itself, with the power to create--"procreate"--destroy, and reorder its own existence. As the play progresses, this authority degenerates into a chaos of identity and allegiances. Gratiana's statement to her daughter Castiza, "The world's so changed, one shape into another / It is a wise child now that knows her mother" (2.1.163-64), may, given Tourneur's fondness for paradoxical terms, echo the ultimate excess of lascivious behavior, recalling the incitement of the Duchess for her stepson to "know" her as both mother and lover.

Questions for consideration:

Focus on Act 1, scene 2.

Any suggestions of language as to humanist self-sufficiency?

Mythology versus medieval faith?

Squalid environment—evil of society portrayed through characterization

Country vs. court?

Deus absconditus (the absent God)

Can Vindici be a flagellum dei—"Scourge of God"—if God has no place in the drama?