Literature
Ben Jonson’s Volpone: Satire, Morality, and the Beast Fable
(1314 Words)
Ben Jonson’s Volpone occupies a distinctive position within early modern comedy because it combines the conventions of satire with the moral structure of the morality play and the symbolic framework of the beast fable. By adopting characteristics of the morality tradition, Jonson sought to “imitate justice” and “instruct to life” (Volpone, lines 112–113), combining moral instruction with satiric comedy. The severity of the punishments imposed at the end of the play aligns more closely with the morality tradition than with conventional comic satire. As Watson argues, “The surprisingly blunt exposure and punishment in Volpone pits the indulgent conventions of satiric comedy, in which wit is the sole criterion for success, against the forces of conventional moralism” (83). Thus, although Volpone contains the wit, deception, and comic intrigue characteristic of satire, Jonson ultimately subordinates these elements to a broader moral purpose. Through the use of animal symbolism, exaggerated characters, and a deliberately punitive conclusion, Jonson transforms the traditional beast-fable structure into a vehicle for social criticism, exposing the destructive effects of greed, materialism, hypocrisy, and moral corruption.
In a conventional satiric comedy, Volpone might have escaped punishment, particularly after successfully deceiving the other characters at the end of Act IV. Jonson, however, deliberately rejects such an ending. Instead, he uses the final act to establish moral consequences for the characters’ greed, deception, and corruption. Throughout the play, he satirises both contemporary social conventions and the growing materialism of London society. In doing so, Jonson develops a distinctive form of comedy that draws not only on contemporary satire but also on the moral structure of the ancient beast fable, particularly the tradition associated with Aesop.
The classification of Volpone as a beast fable is largely based on its use of animal names and its moral conclusion. Volpone, Voltore, Corbaccio, and Corvino are all associated with particular animals, and their behaviour reflects characteristics traditionally attributed to those creatures. Nevertheless, Volpone does not reproduce the traditional fable exactly. In many beast fables, the clever protagonist succeeds through intelligence and deception. In Jonson’s play, however, the fox’s wit ultimately fails. This departure from the conventional fable structure allows Jonson to combine comic ingenuity with moral judgment, transforming the familiar figure of the cunning fox into a character whose intelligence becomes a source of his downfall.
The beast-fable framework therefore provides Jonson with an effective method of presenting his social criticism. By transforming his characters into symbolic animals, he can expose human greed and corruption while maintaining a degree of comic distance. The dedication of the play indicates Jonson’s intention to provide entertainment that also offers moral instruction. The fable form supports this purpose by allowing the audience to recognise human weaknesses through exaggerated animal characteristics. The characters’ animal identities consequently function not merely as comic devices but also as moral indicators, revealing the vices that dominate their behaviour.
The central plot particularly resembles the traditional fox fable. In many fables, the fox represents intelligence and cunning and defeats stronger or more predatory creatures through deception. Volpone similarly uses his intelligence to manipulate the “birds of prey” who compete to become his heir. As Watson observes, the fox “outwits ‘the birds of prey and finally entraps them by feigning death’” (85). Volpone therefore initially appears to fulfil the traditional role of the clever fox who triumphs through wit. His success, however, is only temporary, and Jonson ultimately reverses the expectations of the conventional fable by ensuring that the fox himself is caught.
The principal characters form a carefully constructed animal hierarchy. Volpone is the fox, while Mosca functions as a parasitic fly who benefits from the fox’s schemes. Voltore, Corbaccio, and Corvino represent predatory birds: the vulture, raven, and crow. These associations reinforce the characters’ moral identities. Their pursuit of Volpone’s wealth transforms them into predators competing for material gain. Volpone’s deception is therefore satirical because it exposes the greed of those who are willing to sacrifice morality, family, and dignity for the possibility of inheriting his fortune. The animal imagery intensifies this criticism by suggesting that their desire for wealth reduces them to instinctive predators.
Corbaccio’s treatment of his son provides a particularly strong example of this corruption. He is willing to disinherit his own child in the hope of becoming Volpone’s heir. His behaviour contradicts the natural responsibilities associated with parenthood. White notes that Jonson uses Corbaccio’s character to emphasise this unnatural rejection of paternal duty (141–142). Similarly, Corvino violates the expected role of a husband by treating his wife, Celia, as a means of acquiring wealth. Through these characters, Jonson uses the beast-fable structure to represent a society in which natural and moral values have been inverted. Greed becomes stronger than familial loyalty, marital responsibility, or social morality.
However, Jonson deliberately disrupts the traditional fable by allowing the fox’s schemes to fail. Volpone’s punishment demonstrates that intelligence and deception cannot ultimately guarantee success. Watson argues that the ethical conclusion of Jonsonian comedy adopts a “conventional and comfortable form” only to reject the unrealistic expectation that the world should conform to a pleasant literary formula (96–97). Jonson’s ending is therefore significant because it prioritises moral realism over the conventional triumph of comic wit. The punishment of Volpone and his associates establishes that cleverness without morality is ultimately destructive.
This combination of satire and morality is particularly evident in the subplot involving Sir and Lady Would-be. The subplot provides a parallel to the corruption of the main plot while introducing a different form of social criticism. As Barish argues, “It is on the thematic level that the presence of the Would-be’s can be justified and their antics related to the major motifs of the play” (93). The Would-be couple imitate aspects of the social and cultural behaviour associated with the main characters, but they are not morally equivalent to them.
Sir Would-be can be understood as “a comic distortion of Volpone” (Barish 94), while Lady Would-be represents an exaggerated imitation of Venetian sophistication. Their behaviour reflects folly rather than the serious vice displayed by Volpone and his associates. Jonson therefore distinguishes between genuine moral corruption and the foolish imitation of corruption. Through the Would-be’s, he suggests that English society may still avoid the fate of the characters in the main plot if it recognises and rejects such behaviour. Their comic treatment also prevents the play from becoming entirely severe, allowing Jonson to maintain the entertaining qualities of comedy while continuing to develop his moral argument.
The contrast between the two plots is essential to Jonson’s moral purpose. Those who are genuinely committed to vice are ultimately punished, whereas those whose faults are primarily foolishness are allowed to escape. The structure suggests that society faces serious consequences if it allows greed and moral corruption to dominate. At the same time, Jonson does not necessarily present England as irredeemably corrupt. Instead, the play functions as a warning: audiences can recognise the dangers represented by the characters and change their behaviour before those dangers become fully established. Comedy therefore becomes a means of moral education, encouraging audiences to laugh at vice while also recognising its potentially destructive consequences.
Ultimately, Volpone presents a distinctive form of comedy by combining satire, morality, and the beast-fable tradition. Jonson uses humour and deception to entertain his audience while simultaneously exposing the dangers of greed, materialism, hypocrisy, and moral corruption. Issues such as the elevation of gold above religious and moral values, as well as Corvino’s treatment of Celia, demonstrate that the play’s concerns extend beyond individual characters to wider questions of social and ethical behaviour. The beast-fable framework allows Jonson to distance his audience from these problems sufficiently to laugh at them, while the moral ending forces them to consider their consequences. In this way, Volpone successfully merges comic entertainment with moral instruction, creating a form of satire that challenges its audience not merely to laugh at human vice but also to recognise and resist it.
The Setting of “Volpone” and “Much Ado About Nothing”
(906 Words)
The settings of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing and Jonson’s Volpone are both situated within Italian contexts, a significant choice given the reputation of Italy, and particularly Venice, within the English cultural imagination. For early modern English audiences, Italy represented “the very acme of beauty and culture, of licence and corruption.” Venice, in particular, was imagined as one of the most fabulous and wealthy Italian cities, associated simultaneously with commercial prosperity, cultural sophistication, sexual licence, political intrigue, and moral corruption. Its reputation for licentiousness was accompanied by an equally prominent reputation for severe justice. The catastrophe of Volpone, therefore, reflects not only Jonson’s strenuous moral concerns but also contemporary English perceptions of Venetian justice and punishment. Similarly, Shakespeare incorporates aspects of contemporary Venetian society into his imaginative construction of Messina, particularly its social structures, values, and patterns of behaviour.
Venice was a leading commercial power in Shakespeare’s period and, like the Messina represented in Much Ado About Nothing, was understood as a materially prosperous city in which participation in elaborate social entertainments, including masquerades, formed part of elite culture. The association of Venice with wealth, vice, jealousy, intrigue, and cruelty consequently made it an appropriate setting for Jonson’s comedy. Jonson’s careful construction of the Venetian setting in Volpone anticipates the precision with which he would later establish the urban environments of his London comedies. Venice was widely represented in Elizabethan culture as a centre of intrigue and deception, a place in which outsiders were particularly vulnerable to exploitation by its supposedly sophisticated inhabitants. Messina similarly functions as a society characterised by plots, schemes, and competing forms of deception. While some of these manoeuvres are benign or comic in intention, others are motivated by malice and self-interest. Beneath the apparent harmony of Messina, therefore, there remains a persistent sense that something is fundamentally unstable within the social order.
The deliberate construction of the setting in Volpone functions simultaneously as symbol, theme, and principle of dramatic unity and tension. Setting is consequently structural rather than merely ornamental in Jonson’s play. The severity of the play’s conclusion expresses Jonson’s moral response to the values associated with Venice and to the corrupt social world that the city represents. A comparable concern with political and social order can be identified in Much Ado About Nothing. Don Pedro explains that, despite Don John’s attempt to overthrow his authority, the two brothers have been reconciled. Such a resolution is striking when considered against the political assumptions of Elizabethan society, in which threats to legitimate political authority by usurpers were conventionally understood to demand severe punishment. The presence of a defeated enemy of the state moving freely among the citizens of Messina might otherwise have suggested weakness within the political body. Shakespeare’s decision to minimise the political consequences of Don John’s rebellion is therefore significant: rather than treating rebellion as an enduring political crisis, the play ultimately absorbs it into the comic restoration of social harmony.
The action of both plays is also geographically restricted, and this spatial limitation contributes significantly to their dramatic structures. In Volpone, Jonson establishes a technique that he would develop throughout his career: concentrating his comedies within a sharply defined and carefully conceived section of an urban environment. The care with which the majority of the scenes in Volpone are situated around the centre of Venice suggests that Jonson conceived the action within a deliberately narrow geographical framework. This concentration creates a sense of enclosure that intensifies the characters’ interactions and allows the city itself to become an active component of the drama.
Messina functions similarly as a contained social and political environment. It is a comparatively weak patriarchy, vulnerable to intrigue, disorder, and the disruption of established hierarchies, while figures such as Dogberry are entrusted with the responsibility of maintaining public order. The inadequacy of this authority contributes to the play’s comic treatment of disorder. Significantly, once Don Pedro has explained his “reconciliation” with Don John, the play offers little further discussion of the rebellion that Don John has presumably initiated. Instead, war, including the possibility of civil conflict, is treated by the victors and their hosts as a largely gentlemanly pursuit: a form of competition through which individuals can demonstrate their courage and social distinction rather than a sustained political crisis. This treatment reinforces the play’s broader tendency to transform potentially serious threats to social order into comic mechanisms through which harmony can ultimately be restored.
In both Volpone and Much Ado About Nothing, therefore, setting provides more than a backdrop for the action. Jonson’s carefully constructed Venice supplies a framework through which corruption, deception, justice, and moral disorder can be explored, while Shakespeare’s Messina provides a similarly contained social environment in which deception, gender relations, political authority, and communal order are negotiated. In Volpone, the specificity of the Venetian setting creates the tensions, atmosphere, and structural unity associated with Jonson’s mature comedy. Beyond creating a sense of geographical immediacy for the audience, Jonson’s deliberate use of setting unifies and intensifies the action, reinforces the symbolic significance of spatial relationships, and contributes directly to the play’s meaning. Shakespeare’s Messina operates in a comparable manner: its restricted social world enables the play to contain political and interpersonal disorder within a comic framework and ultimately to restore communal harmony. In both plays, therefore, setting is fundamentally structural, shaping not only where the action occurs but also the thematic tensions, social relationships, and moral meanings through which the dramas unfold.
Consider the treatment in one text of one or more of the Seven Deadly Sins
(776 Words)
As knowledge seekers, many people will strive harder or try appropriate means to achieve their goal for further knowledge to the extent that bridges onto excessiveness that reflects one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Doctor Faustus is this seeker of knowledge who wants to find out more than is suitable and appropriate for him to know. Faustus is a disdainer who gets a scorner’s comeuppance. He commits a mortal sin and goes to hell for it.
Dr Faustus deals with the ambition of the Renaissance to cultivate an ‘aspiring mind’. The Renaissance as a time of intense, all-encompassing infinite knowledge is embodied in Faustus. However, he shows little discrimination in his pursuits. He delights, for example, in the Seven Deadly Sins, ironically remarking ‘O thus feeds my soul’. Throughout the twenty-four years, he seeks experience of all kinds in the true Renaissance manner; however, instead of freedom, his knowledge brings him despair.
Nevertheless, Faustus, the Renaissance humanist has the desire to reach the highest peaks of life experience; there lies a quality possessed by this ambitious seeker. To enter the new world where distant shores could be talked about. This is manifested in Faustus, however, in his desire for none other than a God: ‘A sound magician is a demi-god’.
‘How am I glutted with conceit’ shows how his excessive pride is overtaking him. His almost unconcerned use of the words ‘I’ and ‘will’ (‘I’ll’) embodies a man of cupidity. He is a fearless taker of everything for his own greed. In an age of reason, Faustus tries to stand on his own two feet and work out his salvation. He is motivated largely, by his desire for pleasure. He is covetous in his thoughts of ‘flying to India for gold’, ‘ransacking the Orient for Orient pear’. He hedonistically rides on the crest of sin. So blind is the lust of gain.
Faustus’ desirous journey is the ‘Perils of the Pilgrim’: ‘For the wicked boasts of his heart’s desire and bless the covetous, of whom the LORD abhorred. The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God: God is not in all his thoughts. His ways are always grievous; their judgments are far above out of his sight: as for all his enemies, he puffs at them. He had said in his heart, I shall not be moved: for I shall never be in adversity. His mouth is full of cursing and deceit and fraud: under his tongue is mischief and vanity’ (Psalm 10, 3-7).
Aristotle stated that a tragic hero is predominately a good man, whose undoing is brought about by some error of human frailty, ‘the stamp of one defect’. The audience sees three such defects in Faustus that lead to his ultimate domination of Mephistopheles: his pride, his relentless intellect, and his desire to be more than man (to possess the power and the insight of a God). Any one of these three defects would have been sufficient to ensure his downfall in terms of the theory of tragedy. In his pride, he is guilty of hubris, a quality that the Greek tragedy was certain to arouse the wrath of the Gods. His desire to be equated with God is a sin in Christian terms as well. His restless intellect and deep dissatisfaction with the normal life inevitably lead to misfortune. Faustus falls to damnation
In some ways, Faustus’ aspirations are admirable. It was the glory and the ambition of the Renaissance man to have an ‘aspiring mind’. Faustus, on the one level, represents the new man emerging from the womb of the Middle Ages. The authority of the Church, which had limited the thought of the Middle Ages, was lessening. There was a movement of power from the Church to the state, which meant to a limited extent, the transfer of power to the individual man. The classical spirit was certainly a source of influence for Marlowe. The Greek attitude to their Gods was very different from that of the Medieval Church. The Greeks encouraged a spirit of inquiry in their thought that was quite foreign to the attitudes of the Medieval Church.
Above all, Marlowe’s story of Dr. Faustus is of a Renaissance figure, adventurously surveying a world whose horizons were widening every day as a result of voyages and explorations that results in a person to aspire to the greater, to hold knowledge over wisdom, to have a desire for material wealth or gain and ignore the authority of the spiritual world. One could well be blind to the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ where one was on an ardent quest for knowledge and unsatisfied with being mortal.
So, how does creative and continuous writing start?
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I am reading this great book called ‘Teacher’ written by Sylvia Ashton-Warner which highlights her teaching of Moari kids in New Zealand in the 1960s. The facts are, how do you teach kids who have different upbringings and only know one way of life? You teach them ‘organic teaching’. You bring their inner feelings and stories to the fore. I hope this passage below gives you an insight into how a teacher can get too attached to lesson plans and teaching books while forgetting the reality of the classroom with the students and their own history.
I hope this passage below gives you an insight into how a teacher can get too attached to lesson plans and teaching books while forgetting the reality of the classroom with the students and their own history. I feel this can be very inspirational to teachers.
The passage starts with Sylvia getting the students to write……Yet there are times when one cannot start. He’s just plain not in the mood. You can’t always say an important thing because it is the time to say it. Sometimes he will say candidly, “I don’t want to write,” and that’s just what you get him to write: “I don’t want to write”. From there you ask, “Why?” and here comes an account of some grievance or objection which, after all, just as well as any other idea, delivers his mind of what is on it, practices his composition, and wraps him up in what is of interest to himself. You never want to say that it’s good or bad. That’s got nothing to do with it. You’ve got no right at all to criticise the content of another’s mind. A child doesn’t make his own mind. It’s just there. Your job is to see what’s in it. Your allowable comment is one of natural interest in what he is writing. As in conversation. And I never mark their books in any way; never cross out anything beyond helping them to rub out a mistake, never put a tick or a stamp on it and never complain about bad writing. Do we complain about a friend’s writing in a story-felt letter?
The attention is on the content. What I feel about their work has nothing to do with it. The thing is for them to write what is on their minds and if they do or do not accomplish that, it is you who are good or bad. From the teacher’s end, it boils down to whether or not she is a good conversationalist; whether or not she has the gift or the wisdom to listen to another; the ability to draw out and preserve that other’s line of thought. Which refers to the nature of the teacher. The best juniors I had on this work were the modest, self-effacing kind, while the worst of them was a very clever girl who was an insatiable talker and who in her personal life talked everyone else to pieces on the subject of herself (Ashton-Warner, 1963: 58).
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