So far we have shown the significance of the virtual events in general and in Shakespearean drama in particular. We have also remarked that one source of Shakespeare’s acquaintance with and use of these notions of the virtual and the probable is the spread of rhetorical education in early modern England. Here I shall examine two plays of Shakespeare, Cymbeline and Richard II, to address the role of virtual events in the working of Shakespeare’s plays. The two plays belong to two different periods, genres, general interests, etc. More importantly, the virtual component features very differently in each play. In Cymbeline, there is a proliferation of the virtual domain, and characters are constantly constructing virtual and alternative courses of events, both deliberately and by mistake. In Richard II, on the other hand, there is shortage and scarcity of the virtual domain made accessible to readers and audiences. Audiences are only confronted with the actual actions of characters from which they have to construct the virtual domain. In both cases, however, the virtual remains essential to the intelligibility of the play and its availability defines how the play will be received by its audiences.
Cymbeline
In an epilogue to his book, The Improbability of Othello (2010), Joel B. Altman identifies a mode of writing in Shakespeare, which he calls ‘romantic,’ where the playwright seems to relax his adherence to the principle of probability. This is even more so in the plays generally called ‘Romances,’ Cymbeline included. In these plays, Altman argues, Shakespeare felt restricted by probabilistic representation and so looked for more ‘wondrous’ modes of presentation. According to Altman, Shakespeare
wanted more for his staged persons and his audiences, and therefore violated the Aristotelian dictum that ‘a likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing possibility’. (2010, 346)
While the element of ‘wonder’ is unmistakably characteristic of Cymbeline, yet I shall argue that probabilistic modes of thinking are also prominent in this play. One area of the use of probabilistic thinking in the play is the wager scene. Probabilistic reasoning in this scene is related to and manifested by the range of virtual domains that the play generates. Cymbeline is a play matchlessly rich in cultivating virtual courses of events and it thrives on the convergence, and often divergence between the virtual and the actual domains of actions. This aspect of the play can best be seen as manifested in three areas. The first is the use of forensic rhetoric; second is the foregrounding of the act of improvisation as theme in the play; and the third is the gap between the virtual and the actual courses of events.
The use of forensic rhetoric features clearly in the wager story. This scene takes place in Act One, when Giacomo promises to prove to Posthumus the dishonour of his wife Imogen. Thus, the forensic nature of the wager is quite apparent: Giacomo has to prove, as a lawyer in a court would do, that Imogen is dishonourable. To achieve this qualitative aspect of his claim as truthful or not, he has inevitably to follow a quantitative approach wherein he has to increase the probability of his claim via collecting plausible evidence. He goes to Britain for this purpose and, quite shrewdly, has the opportunity to get into Imogen’s room while she is sleeping. In the room he has to carry out his enquiry and collect as much misleading evidence as he can to convince Posthumus of Imogen’s infidelity.
First enamoured by the beauty of both Imogen and her bedchamber, Giacomo manages to turn his attention back to his main mission, namely to write down everything that can be used as evidence:
Such and such pictures, there the window, such Th’adornment of her bed, the arras, figures,
Why such and such, and the contents o’th’ story. (2.2.25-7)
Like the story on the tapestry, Giacomo himself is after a ‘story’ which, to be convincing, he has to fill in relevant content and arrange it in an intelligible way. His aim is basically rhetorical: to persuade Posthumus of Imogen’s infidelity rather than really defile it. “Iachimo would rather poison Posthumus’ mind than possess Imogen’s body. So he does not touch her” (Nevo 2003, 101). The main
interest then for Giacomo, as it will be to Posthumus, is solely in stories about Imogen, not in the actual manipulation of her body. According to Alison Thorne, “sexual guilt” turns out to be “a matter of rhetorical persuasion rather than direct proof” (1999, 184).
Acutely aware of his main job, Giacomo turns then to weighing the importance of every piece of evidence according to how probable it can render his claim. He concludes that details of her body make his claim seem comparatively more probable:
Ah, but some natural notes about her body Above ten thousand meaner movables
Would testify t’enrich mine inventory. (2.2.28-30)
Although he aims to quantitatively increase the evidential data in his inventory, yet he is aware of the qualitative difference among different items: surely details of her own body (which should be an autonomous and guarded area) are more supportive of his claim than a mere description of the chamber, which is a more feasibly accessible space.
The most precious token he can take in this regard is the bracelet from her arm: “’Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly, / As strongly as the conscience does within, / To th’madding of her lord” (2.2.35-7; emphasis added). Giacomo carries on in his collecting of ‘evidence’ until he notices the mole on her breast: “Here’s a voucher / Stronger than ever law could make. This secret / Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta’en / The treasure of her honour” (39-42). Mentioning ‘law’ in this context is hardly surprising, and it shows that he understands his mission as a lawyer who accumulates evidence to defend or prosecute some person. Moreover, in order for Giacomo to be able to judge what seems more or less probable, or the stronger and weaker evidence, he has to project Posthumus’ virtual response to and interpretation of every single bit of evidence that Giacomo is going to present. This accords with the rhetoricians’ recommendation, mentioned above, that the orator should skilfully manipulate the virtual domain of the judge. In order to efficiently do that, Giacomo has to project all the virtual routes Posthumus’ thought will go in, and manage his available evidence accordingly.
Back in Italy, Giacomo professes himself the winner of Imogen’s honour (2.4.53). Posthumus demands proof: “If you can make’t apparent / That you
have tasted her in bed, my hand / And ring is yours” (56-58). Quite interestingly, Posthumus’s request is not very ambitious: he only asks Giacomo to make the claim ‘apparent’. The OED shows that there were two main meanings for the word ‘apparent’ in the 17th century: first is the evident and clear; and the second is “Appearing to the senses or mind, as distinct from (though not necessarily opposed to) what really is” or “Likely so far as appearances go.” Thus Posthumus is asking for a proof that is like truth, one that is the result of rhetorical deliberation. This is what Giacomo has and what he is going to make. Giacomo, on the other hand, seizes this opportunity and makes clear the nature of the evidence at his disposal:
Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them,
Must first induce you to believe; (61-3)
The evidence Giacomo has, then, is circumstantial, not direct evidence. More captivating is his admission that his proof ‘comes near the truth’ and does not aspire to be the truth itself. He does not offer, nor does Posthumus ask him to, present eyewitnesses on the deed. The only other thing Giacomo offers is his ‘oath’. Thus it appears that their contestation is mainly rhetorical and it aspires not to determine the actual event, but what looks probable according to the evidence presented.
To make his case Giacomo starts by describing the contents of Imogen’s chamber, such as the hanging tapestry and its splendour, which invites Posthumus’ objection: “This is true, / And this you might have heard of here, by me / Or by some other” (2.4.76-8; emphasis added). Posthumus, it seems, is no less aware of the play of possibilities than Giacomo. In possible worlds terms, while Giacomo claims to present the actual course of event, Posthumus is quick to weigh the evidence and suggest an alternative or virtual course of events. The evidence Giacomo presents is hardly enough, for his knowledge of her chamber could have come from other sources than of the fact of himself being there. This time Giacomo loses in the quantitative game, so he reacts by trying to augment the probability of his claim, now by mentioning more particular details: “More particulars / Must justify my knowledge” (78-9). In Roland Barthes’s (1986) terms, these particulars and details would enhance the reality effect of the story. However, the particulars Giacomo mentions, the chimney piece and the roof of her chamber, are not convincing enough for Posthumus to
surrender to his claims, because these details could have been known otherwise than by being into Imogen’s room. This forces Giacomo to reveal the bracelet and claim that Imogen has given it to him. Struck first by surprise, Posthumus retorts shortly after that: “Maybe she plucked it off / To send it me” (104-5). So, the event that Giacomo presents as actual, that he made love to Imogen, is evidenced by the bracelet. To Posthumus, however, that evidence is still compatible with another virtual course of event, namely the supposition that it is Imogen who gave the bracelet to Giacomo. Thus, we have here two virtual courses of events, both compatible with presence of the bracelet with Giacomo. But Giacomo makes a witty move:
GIACOMO. She writes so to you, doth she?
POSTHUMUS. O no, no, no – ‘tis true. Here, take this too. [He gives GIACOMOhis ring] (105-6)
Giacomo is here decreasing the probability of Posthumus’s supposition for, had she sent it, she would have written so to him. And since she did not, then she was not sending it to Posthumus. Posthumus, for a moment, is quite convinced of that and grants Giacomo winning the wager. However, Filario, their host, gets involved in this playful, though deadly serious, game of possibilities, suggesting that “It may be probable she lost it, or / Who knows if one her women, being corrupted, / Hath stol’n it from her?” (2.4.115-6). Filario is suggesting another virtual plot in which Imogen did not give the bracelet to Giacomo nor send it to Posthumus, but rather it was stolen from her. This plot is no less ‘probable’ than the other two, which induces Posthumus to withdraw his past judgement. But when Giacomo swears that he had it, Posthumus starts to undermine the probability of Filario’s plot on behalf of that of Giacomo: “She would not lose it. Her attendants are / All sworn and honourable. They induced to steal it? / And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her” (124-6). What sounds probable to Filario is even less so to Posthumus. This third virtual course being dismissed, the only remaining version, which Posthumus reluctantly accepts, is Giacomo’s.
What is interesting about this scene is its quasi-judicial nature, for Giacomo here is assuming the role of orator or prosecutor, trying to convince Posthumus, who is assuming the role of a judge. However, Posthumus proves a bad judge by Renaissance standards, for he allows his ears to be affected by one side of the argument only, and never listens to the other side. In his essay ‘Of Judicature’, Francis Bacon (2002) states that judges should listen to both
sides with patience, and they should distribute their hearing among all parties, especially the modest or weak side of the case. Posthumus did none of these; he did not even listen to Imogen’s defence of herself, let alone do that with patience and gravity. More interesting is the lasting influence of Giacomo’s rhetoric, for until the last revelation, Posthumus is persuaded by his insinuations. Even when Posthumus forgives Imogen before the battle and determines to die for her, he still believes Giacomo’s story (Kahn 1997, 168). Posthumus’ reaction to the evidence presented is very complicated and, at some points, far from logical. Giacomo presents three kinds of evidence: the room description, his knowledge of the mole on her breast and the bracelet. Among these, the strongest should be the mole on her breast. However, Posthumus focuses on the bracelet after he dismisses the description of the bedchamber. The irony in this dialogue is that the discussion begins as rational, but ends up more penitential than rhetorical. For although he works on weighing evidence on a rhetorical and probabilistic basis, Posthumus accepts Giacomo’s oath as evidence. Lorna Hutson elaborately shows that some practices of penitential theology in the justice system, such as confession and swearing, belong to the pre-Reformation judicial system. In post-Reformation judicial practice, the use of evidence replaced these practices (2007, 45). What is interesting here is that Posthumus first works on forensic evidence but then, quite unpredictably, lapses into an acceptance of oaths as judicial evidence. Moreover, by excluding the possibility that the bracelet might have been stolen with the help of the servants, Posthumus shows more trust in the fidelity of Imogen’s servants than in Imogen herself. And so it seems that Shakespeare might have wanted to indicate how hopelessly premature his protagonist is, at this stage of the play at least (Glazov-Corrigan 1994, 392).
The second manifestation of the virtual domain in the play is the practice of improvisation. Improvisation is practiced by many characters who quite adroitly employ the divergence between the actual and virtual domains of the other characters. Two examples will suffice in this regard. One has to do with the Queen’s plan to have Imogen poisoned. The Queen asks Doctor Cornelius to prepare some poisonous drugs. She explains that she needs them to: “try the forces / Of these thy compounds on such creatures as / We count not worth the hanging, but none human” (1.5.18-20). This is the plot she presents as actual,
but for Cornelius it is only a virtual one: “[aside] I do suspect you, madam. / But you shall do no harm” (31-2). Suspecting thus, he engages in an act of improvisation, since the drugs he has given her would cause a swoon but are not strong enough to kill a human being. As a result of his improvisation is that “She is fooled / With a most false effect, and I the truer / So to be false with her” (42-4). The box has a long journey throughout the play, moving from the Queen to Pisanio (60-74), whom she directs to give it to his mistress, Imogen. Then it moves from Pisanio to Imogen (3.4.188-192), who drinks the drug when she feels sick in the cave (4.2.38). Drinking the drug makes her swoon and be thought dead, until the true story of the drug is revealed at the end of the play by Cornelius himself (5.6.249-58). What is interesting about this example is that both improvisations are at work: on the one hand, the Queen has partly succeeded in importing the drug to Imogen whom she wanted to have killed. On the other hand, however, Cornelius’s counter-improvisation also worked well, for although Imogen had the drug, she never died. Cornelius was thus successful in projecting the virtual plan of the Queen and in (re)acting accordingly. In narratological terms, the Queen as an agent did not account for the fact that the subagent to her plan, Cornelius, is not an automated one, but might have a plan of his own. According to Marie-Laure Ryan, “At every step involving a subagent, the planner must project the alternatives facing the subagent and foresee the subagent’s reactions” (1991, 136). Cornelius’s move, moreover, has far-reaching implications for the plot of the play. “It enables the tragicomic transformation of grave and serious events into restorative and gratifying ends” (Nevo 2003, 108). This line of the story also shows the exhilarating potential of the possible and virtual event: at every juncture of this complex course, the action could have turned out differently, which would have led to other results than the ones actualized in the play’s world. An awareness of these unactualized possibilities is necessary if we are to appreciate the aesthetic import of these episodes.
The other example is related to Pisanio’s improvisation when he was ordered by his master Posthumus to kill Imogen. Pisanio, be it noted, “enjoys a certain cunning – the Queen calls him sly” (Lewis 1991, 346). Realizing the illusion of Posthumus, he attributes it, quite correctly, to the work of rhetoric which we detailed above. He tells Imogen that “Some villain, / Ay, and singular
in his art, hath done you both / This cursed injury” (3.4.119-21). To reconcile his conscience with obedience to his master, he decides, on the one hand, to convince Posthumus that he has really killed Imogen, and, on the other hand, to help her escape and never be recognized. To do the first thing, he tells her that “I’ll give but notice that you are dead, and send him / Some bloody sign of it, for ‘tis commanded / I should do so. You shall be missed at court / And that will well confirm it” (124-7). This way he will construct in Posthumus’s mind a virtual course of events in which Imogen is dead. To foster the likelihood of this event, he will give some signs that qualitatively enhance this supposition: one is a bloody sign, suggesting Imogen’s blood, and the second is Imogen’s absence from the court, which will also suggest her death. Pisanio’s improvisation will succeed until the end of the play. To protect Imogen from Cloten, he advises and help her to disguise as a page:“and but disguise / That which t’appear itself must not yet be” (144-5). To conduct the disguise is also to create a virtual course of events, which the other characters think to be actual. According to Stephen Greenblatt, disguise can be a form of improvisation (1980, 252). The disguise works according to Imogen’s and Pisanio’s plans, by keeping her identity covered from her brothers, her father, the Roman ambassador Lucius, and even Posthumus, until it is revealed by Pisanio at the end (5.6.229-32). These acts of improvisation are integral to the progression and continuation of both the play and the royal family: “Pisanio, like Belarius, must now betray his master in order to save an heir to the throne" (Simonds 1982, 143).
It is to be noted that the acts of improvisation have taken a geographical