Charismatic Authority in Early Modern English Tragedy (review)

From the clearest example—Marlowe's Tamburlaine—to the most problematic—the different versions of Cleopatra—Raphael Falco moves through carefully selected examples to define what he means by "charismatic authority" in tragedy. Falco's approach draws theoretical inspiration from Max Weber's Economy and Society and other sociological texts with a detour into St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians (particularly 1 Corinthians 12). Charismatic authority thus means far more than magnetic personality, although it includes that. But Falco's emphasis falls on "group function," leading to the central conceptual paradox of this book: "emphasis on a group ideal tends to destroy the individuality of the human being at the group's core; and, conversely, emphasis on the autonomy of an individual charismatic leader destroys the group ideal" (1). Herein lies the tragic possibility. Charisma therefore becomes a shared experience, with the leader dependent on the group for definition and power. This book traces, often with dazzling results, the dissolution of charismatic groups in early modern tragedies.

Tamburlaine, Falco persuasively argues, exists as an example of the ideal type of "pure charisma." Such an approach illuminates the vexing critical question of what to make of Tamburlaine as he moves from Marlowe's Part I to Part II. Falco sees Tamburlaine's decline and eventual tragedy as the result of change in his charismatic strategy: "Consequently his tragedy develops in tandem with his increasing alienation from followers and from the symbols of his own charismatic rise to power" (28). Tamburlaine's sexual restraint serves him well; but his marriage to Zenocrate, Falco suggests, marks a change in his charismatic status as it in part redefines the relationship to his group: "The play ends with the depersonalization of Tamburlaine's charisma as he attempts to pass on his extraordinary powers to his sons" (62).

"Shakespeare's Richard II is an anatomy of charismas in conflict" (65). These include "personal charisma, lineage or dynastic charisma, and several kinds of office charisma" (65). A fundamental paradox emerges because the "personally charismatic Bolingbroke" seizes "power partly through subversion of traditional hierarchy and partly through an appeal to traditional hierarchical and genealogical values" (65). Richard's charisma comes about exclusively from lineage charisma, and his tragedy derives from an eventual recognition of his own self-division. Falco accepts the critical idea that Richard is the "master" of the deposition scene (87). I disagree, believing that Bolingbroke controls by allowing Richard his moment in the sun as he divests himself of all the royal charismatic symbols. A new group has formed, and Richard does not lead it. Falco nowhere acknowledges the textually problematic nature of the deposition scene. He cites "the original spelling" (89), never indicating from which "original" text he quotes (Quartos 1 through 3 do not include the deposition). Bolingbroke's rebellion leads paradoxically to political stability (95), but Falco does not acknowledge how readily the play's action challenges this stability.

Falco writes of Bolingbroke: "He is not so much a normal male figure in the play as he is a charismatic experience" (93). Try telling that to directors and actors! Herein lies one of this book's nagging problems: the danger of allegorical, reductive readings. We have surely come a long way from Lily B. Campbell's Shakespeare's Tragic Heroes: Slaves of Passion (1930); but Falco occasionally risks, even in the midst of his well-informed, sophisticated analyses, boiling everything down to the pursuit and embodiment of some concept of charisma. At moments, as in the discussion of Richard II, only x-amount of charisma seems available. But if the Welsh troops abandon Richard, wrongly believing him dead, what does this say about charisma? If, as Falco says, Richard becomes "less a king" (83), how does a concept of charisma tell us something that we would not have recognized in seeing or reading the play?

Hamlet and Othello...