The role of Chorus in Samson Agonistes

In choosing the classical form of tragedy for his Samson Agonistes, Milton decided to work on a distinctively unpopular medium. For, classically modelled tragedy had never been popular in England. Even Ben Jonson, excused himself for not obeying the Aristotelian rules and not having a proper chorus in his Sejanus. But with his contempt for mere popularity, Milton did not feel obliged to modify the form of classical tragedy to suit the purpose of what Jonson called “popular delight”. J. B. Broadbank has said that Samson Agonistes is actually more regularly Aristotelian in construction that any extant Greek tragedy. Milton has introduced a chorus which tries to be faithful to Aristotle’s precepts. Aristotle emphasised that the chorus must be regarded as one of the actors as part of the whole and as joining in the action. Milton’s chorus contributes to the overall dramatic effect by its continuous presence: it is able both to sympathise with Samson and to give an external point of view which makes his situation seem simpler and more vivid to us. In Milton, as in the earlier Greek tragedies, the choruses are not, as in Euripides, mere interludes; they enforce aspects of the action, as in Aeschylus and Sophocles. Thus in its parode or opening song, the chorus emphasises Sampson’s former heroism and present misery and sets the right perspective for the tragedy. By raising the questions about Sampson’s marriage, it gives voice to our curiosity and gives Samson an opportunity to defend himself against criticism. Another function of the chorus is to offer consolation to the hero. Thus in the first stasimon, the chorus seeks to cure Samson’s despair by vindicating God’s way: “Just are the ways of god And justifiable to men.” However, the chorus’ own understanding of God’s ways is not from the beginning perfect. This is entirely appropriate, for chorus is above all a group of ordinary Danites very much involved in Samson’s predicament. Like the chorus of the women of Canterbury in Eliot’s Murder in the Cathedral, “They know and do not know”. It is wrong to expect from them a serene detachment and deliver impeccable judgements even in the midst of Samson’s acute suffering. So the chorus’ realisation of God’s purpose grows with its perception of Samson’s gradual mastery over himself. Nothing in the play is more dramatic than the way in which the chorus first justifies “divine disposal”; it is temporarily deflected from its faith by the reality of Samson’s suffering. The suffering leads it to question God’s ways in the second stasimon and finally reaches an understanding of the essential justice of God’s ways. As last when it hears of Samson’s death and victory, the chorus observes that we, who have witnessed the tragic action, will be cured of passion. Tragedy is tragedy is a type of spiritual training for the audience and it is the chorus which brings out this significance of the action. We as audience are expected to identify not with Samson himself, but with the developing awareness of the chorus. Many critics have found faults with the chorus utterance after the departure of Dalila in the third stasimon. It has been said that this stasimon is inappropriate for the chorus, and the virulent note of misogyny does not accord with the supposed role of the chorus which should be always objective and detached. But we have seen that the chorus is very much involved in the action and that the spectacle of Samson’s suffering often leads it to partial, imperfect judgements. It would have been unnatural if, after the departure of Dalila, the chorus came out with s speech full of compliments about women. The Danites are attempting to solace Samson. Their judgement is not expected to be balanced. We must also be on our guard against a common “biographical fallacy”, the tendency to think that Milton is here putting in the chorus’ mouth his own antifeminist sentiments. In Milton’s own words: “...such words are put into the characters’ mouth as are most fitting for each character, not such as the poet would speak if he were speaking in his own person.” The versification of the choric odes has been a subject of controversy too. For instance, Dr. Jonson found this versification “harsh and dissonant”. But ever since Hopkins praised the technical daring of Milton’s choric verse, the versification of the odes has been recognised as a prosodic triumph. In his Preface Milton states that he did not want to reproduce the characteristic structure of the Greek choric ode which was usually divided into strophe, antistrophe and epode. There was no point in maintaining this division in a play from which music was absent. The source of the prosody of the chorus has been sought in the contemporary Canzone of Italian pastoral drama and in the patterns of the Hebrew Psalms. Whatever the source, the versification the central odes have a rhythm unheard before in English and display a technical originality unequalled with Hopkins. The metre of the choral verse is at once irregular and almost wantonly free, capable of giving the impression of powerful feelings surging under the control of grave thought.

The Dramatic Significance of the Hell Scene in Man and Superman

In Man and Superman Shaw was not writing a regular play; he only united up dialogue, discussion, arguments for the purpose of making them appear as plays. Still the incidents of situations in the play do in one way or the other perpetuate the pursuit of man by woman—of Tanner by Ann. The most interesting is the Hell Scene where the traditional Don Giovanni motif is most comically inverted in the spirit of parody to substantiate Shaw’s thesis that it is the woman basically who is boa-constrictor from whom the new Don Juan flies away to save his person.

The Hell Scene has been grafted on the plot from outside and it does not grow from the soil of the story. Its central business is to highlight the central motive of the play—the chase of man by woman as part of the process of Creative Evolution as well as the edification of hell as a most dynamic, therefore desirable condition of existence which ensures happiness of humanity.

The metamorphosis of the characters like Tanner and Ann suiting the atmosphere is amazing; but soon the dramatic interest wanes as the arguments start rattling the pros and cons of the Scene. From the point of view of the force of the arguments the Hell Scene has significance, otherwise it looks just bizarre and from the point of view of the force of the plot extraneous. It cannot be denied that the Hell Scene is a most powerful tour-de-force of Shaw’s imagination. Shaw had added to the play a lengthy Preface, rich in thought and content and at the end we get the Revolutionist’s Hand Book and Pocket Companion. The overriding Shavian pre-occupation with his philosophy gets to be continued in Hell Scene. Whenever Shae has an opportunity, he expresses his views (although comically) on happiness, love, marriage, sex relations, women, art, socialism, democracy, industrialisation, religion, morality, virtue, sin, death, peace, war, slavery and a host of other topics. Shaw has been impartial enough to allow even the Devil to have his say and freely express his point of view. The spur behind all this is the assumption that woman is far from weak and helpless and that sexually woman is Nature’s contrivance for the perpetuation of human race. A more intimidating fact is, sexually man is woman’s contrivance for fulfilling nature’s behest in the best possible way. Possessed by the blind fury of creation, woman searches for a male biologically most desirable and when she finds him, she is most ruthless in her pursuit of him.

The Don Juan in Hell Scene lifts up this basic theme of life-Force and Creative Evolution with Superman and Superwoman into the realm of Shavian-Socratic dialogue. Shaw comically swaps the Superman of Nietzsche (who was a ruthless being and an embodiment of might!) by a new Don Juan; Tanner who sees life as co-operation with woman in its upward struggle. If the evolutionist’s account is accurate, life has developed in the waters of the ocean and the slime of the beaches until it reached the gigantic and long since extinct creatures that peopled the earth in pre-historic times. In his vision Tanner hears Don Juan say this to him. Life is a force which has made innumerable experiments in organising itself. He further tells him that as long as he can conceive something better than himself, he cannot be easy unless he is striving to bring it into existence or clearing the way for it:

“That is the law of my life. That is the working within me of life’s incessant aspiration to higher organisation, wider, deeper, intense, self-consciousness and clearer self-understanding.”

The Devil in his turn expresses himself eloquently and forcibly about man’s conduct in the world and takes a pessimistic view of him. He holds that human beings are both stupid and evil and on the road to utter destruction. Shaw makes a firm distinction in the process between his two functions as writer: the function of an essayist on the one hand and on the other, that of a playwright. The important difference is that a playwright has to put on the stage a number of characters whose opinions differ and clash for the vital element in drama in conflict. It may be physical conflict, the conflict of emotions, of ideas or even of beliefs. The audience watches and hastens to the conflict; it hears the characters putting forward opposing views; and having heard the arguments the members of the audience use their own thinking powers and reach their own conclusions. Much of what is said by the Devil in Man and Superman is fair statement of the parts of human behaviour is endorsed in other plays by Shaw. What is in doubt is the conclusion the Devil draws from the facts. Can man be saved from his own destructive tendencies? The Devil declares that he cannot. Don Juan believes that he can if he is given the great idea to live for—the great idea, for example, that man can, if he wills, can carry out the divine purpose (read the purpose of Life-Force). The brain will not fail when the will is earnest to Life, the force behind the Man, and intellect is a necessity because without it he blunders into death. Just as Life, after ages of struggle, evolved that wonderful bodily organ, the eye, so that the living organism could see where it was going and what was going and what was coming to help or threaten, and thus avoid a thousand dangers that finally slew it, so it is evolving to date in mind’s that shall see, not the physical world, but the purpose of Life, and thereby enable the individual to work for that purpose instead of thwarting and baffling it by setting up short-sighted personal aims as present:

“I sing not arms and the Hero but the philosophic man; he who seeks in contemplation to discover the inner will of the world, in invention to discover the means of fulfilling that will and in action to do that will.”

The supreme triumph of Shaw’s dramaturgical dialectics is to be found in the renewal of renovation of the 18^th century image of Don Juan or rather the Spanish Don Giovanni. It is important because Tanner receives the mantle of the incendiary from this super human image. Of course, the method has been one of conversion of old materials in to 19^th century terms, both thematic and technical. He rejects altogether the schism of Byron and Tanner can be the rake or a mindless Philanderer as Byron’s Don Juan has been. Shaw’s claim to be returning to a pristine Don Juan is valid to the extent that the theme had originally been less of psychological than of philosophical or even indeed theological interest. It is true that Don Juan runs away from them only after possessing them. Tanner in Shaw’s play runs away rather to prevent them from possessing them. That old motif has been deliberately turned upside down in a vein of parody, embodying Shaw’s standard new motif. Shaw substituted an utterly Scribean closed structure. The Don Juan episode in Act II is neither a well-made play, nor a portion of a well-made play. It stands out apart as something appropriately more austere and august. As Eric Bentley points out,

“It is not a traditional work of any kind, not even a Platonic dialogue, the relation between Socrates and his interlocutors being quite different.” Nor is it s debate for two of the speakers, the Commander and Ann hardly present arguments at all. They simply represent a point of view. Do even the Devil and Don Juan discuss anything between them? A Devil is scarcely a being one can convert to a cause: “and if the Don is busy convincing anyone it is himself.” Certainly it is the philosophy of Bernard Shaw that he parrot-preaches. But one doubts if persuasion is exercised by that on the audience. Rather, the contribution of the four presences come together as a vision of life and an intimating of super-life—Man and Superman. The comedy of John Tanner of the vision of Don Juan Tenoria—Shaw and counter-Shaw thesis and antithesis are to be sure, of separate interests, and yet, as usual, the great Shavian achievement is to have related one to the other. Tanner seems a wise man, proves a fool. Don Juan passes for philanderer but proves an explorer and a missionary of the truth. In our trivial, tawdry, clever, Scribean world intellect is futile and ever at the mercy of instinct. Take away the episode in Hell and Shaw has written an anti-intellectual comedy! The episode assigns to the intellect the highest role. No longer, therefore, is Ann the centre and source of things—only a possible mother for Superman. Here Don Juan dominates. Here (or rather in Heaven) intellect is at home, and the Don is cured of that occupational disease of Shavian Heroes of homelessness. “He comes to a good end”—only it is not an end, it’s an episode, and from these celestial infernal heights we must descend to earth with the shock of Shavian anti-climax, to earth and to tanner, from Superman.

Character of Louka in Arms and the Man

Shaw conceived of Louka as a strong willed woman, necessary for his dramatic purpose of exposing the vanity of the upper-class and the political purpose of showing the socialist principle of showing equality among individuals in a society. It must be said that it was daring attempt on Shaw’s part to lead and raise a maidservant to the status of an aristocratic lady. But he does not do this as a kind of poetic justice or as a matter of mercy; he makes her capable of realising her aims and object by her worth as a human being and by her strong will power.

In the beginning of the play Louka is presented as a maid-servant having some sort of tension with the lady she serves. She behaves in defiant manners and her physical movements, gestures and postures produce the impression of haughtiness and discontent. The audience ascribe this to typical feminine jealousy of a servant for the lady of the same age, but in Act II they understand that she is Raina’s rival in love and is eyeing something above her position. Her confidence is generated from some of the secrets she knows about the ladies of the house. Always on the lookout for those sorts of things, she discovers a terrible truth about the fugitive in Raina’s chamber at night and keeps it for use in future.

In Act II Louka is given a loud voice justifying her position. While being instructed threateningly by the middle-aged maid servant Nicola, she scornfully rejects his advice and brands him as a person with “the soul of a servant”. From Nicola, however, we come to know the predicament of Louka and her father “on his little farm”. Shaw here brings out the conflicts between rich and the poor, fuming in the backyard of patriotism and nationalism. Shaw makes this explicit by making Nicola fully aware of the effects any confrontation with the aristocracy will bring about. It is not that Louka is not conscious of this; in fact, her defiance of the upper-class people can be ascribed to the angst deposited in her. But while Nicola chooses to reap profit by serving the upper-class and thereby cashing on their weaknesses, Louka resorts to using her youth and feminine skills backed up by her will-power to trap an upper-class gentleman.

In Act II Louka employs her youth and charms when she finds Sergius posing as a playboy. From the familiarity of their conversation we can understand that this is not the first time that Sergius engages himself in relaxation from the pressure of higher love” for Raina. As soon as Louka detects his susceptibility or vulnerability, she proceeds to break Raina’s pose of higher love by informing him of the presence of another man in her chamber at night. She does this in order to bring her down to her level of an ordinary human being before Sergius. Even she goes to the extent of saying “I am worth six of her”, meaning that she is capable of serving or satisfying the six different persons in Sergius, which Raina, according to her, is not capable of. But it would be an injustice to the character if we say that Louka uses only her youthful charms; we find her possessing subtle power of observation, by which she can surely foretell Raina’s move away from Sergius in the case of the fugitive’s return. No other person, including Raina could have this kind anticipation because Louka observes her from a pragmatic position:

“I know the difference between the sort of manner you and she put on before one another and the real manner.”

Thus she creates agitations in Sergius’s mind quite consciously and deliberately in order that she may win him away by exposing both of them. But since she is intelligent enough to anticipate that he will not believe her unless and until he discovers the truth himself, she lets him out to find the rest of the truth.

In Act III Louka enters the stage with her usual “bold free gait” with the marked difference that her left sleeve is “looped up to the shoulder with a brooch, shewing her naked arm, with a broad gilt bracelet covering the bruise”. She does this intentionally in order to remind Sergius of the mark he made on her arm, and perhaps to display proudly the mark as a gift of love in a sort of masochistic exhibitionism. Nicola, as a man with practical wisdom can sense something wrong with her, and that is why he proceeds to warn her about her unusual fashion. Here once again she reiterates her contempt for his servile mentality and refuses to accept 10 levas from him as share of the bribes. Her basic independent nature is to be found in the following words:

“You were born to be a servant. I was not. When you set up your shop you will be everybody’s servant instead of somebody’s servant.”

She demonstrates the place she is eying to reach at by seating herself ‘regally’ in Sergius’s chair, an act which the audience notice with surprise and amusement. As Nicola understands her and humbly makes way for Sergius, she once again attracts Sergius now with the mark of bruise, which she uses as a kind of bait for him. When Sergius tries to compensate for the bruise by offering her an amorous favour, she rejects it straight and tries to make him understand that she wants more. She entangles him in a sort of emotional cheating with the protestation of the courage she can show in the case of realising her true love:

“If I loved you, though you would be as far beneath me as I am beneath you, I would dare to be the equal of my inferior.”

Here by implication of the logic Louka wants him to come out of the class-barrier and accept her on equal terms. When Sergius expresses his inability and insults her by making a comparison between Raina and her in terms of the difference between heaven and earth, she returns this and the charge of her being jealous of Raina with a bold assertion:

“I have no reason to be. She will never marry you. The man I told you of has come back. She will marry the Swiss.”

Thus she succeeds in creation an emotional storm in his mind and in making him confess: “If I choose to love you, I dare marry you in spite of all Bulgaria.” In true chivalric fashion he even pronounces an oath, which she readily jumps upon to win him away in the next encounter.

In the final encounter with Sergius Louka gathers all her strength of mind and risks being caught up in eavesdropping. However, quite unexpectedly she finds a supporter in Bluntschli, who defends her act by saying that he too once committed this kind of act as his “life was at stake”. Louka takes the cue from him and boldly declares her “love was at stake”. At this point we find Raina insulting her from her supposed social superiority and thus quite unknowingly provoking her to disclose the truth about her chocolate cream soldier. Louka is further insulted after the discovery of the “chocolate cream soldier”, and she turns the situation in her favour by forcing Sergius to apologise to her. As he still clings to his false heroic ideals, he apologises and falls motionless in her trap.

In fine, we can say that through the presentation of Louka, Shaw illustrates once again the triumph of women in the chase of the men of their desire. There may be perhaps another reason: she is necessary as the woman for Sergius because she can balance the excess of romantic ideas and impractical dreams in him. But the audience cannot be sure of her capacity; for, immediately after becoming Major Sergius Saranoff’s “affianced bride”, she addresses the lady she was serving by her name and tries to scandalise Raina by openly expressing her doubt of the latter’s being “fonder of him than Sergius”. The audience and more particularly the readers can take note of the fact that she does not utter a single word after that. She remains speechless even at the climax of the action when the chocolate cream soldier becomes Raina’s man amidst many revelations and amazements.

Character of Nicola in Arms and the Man

In Shaw’s artistic design the character of Nicola is necessary in order to neutralise the excess of false ideas and illusions of some of the characters. In one sense, he contributes to consolidating Bluntschli’s pragmatic ideas and acts. But through his character Shaw also presents a member of the some of his socialist ideas. In Nicola he presents a cold-blooded calculating man of the practical world who does not care for the false ideals and ideas and lives his life in accordance with the demand of the situation he is in.

In the beginning of Act III Shaw describes Nicola quite clearly in terms of his personality and physique, all of which go together to produce an impression of a man with keen practical intelligence and servile outlook.:

“He is a middle aged man of cool temperament and low but clear and keen intelligence with the complacency of the servant who values himself on his rank in servitude, and the imperturbability of the accurate calculator who has no illusions.”

He has undertaken to warn Louka because he has detected in her defiant manners and hostile attitudes, which, if not checked, will damage his prospect too in future. He threatens her plainly with the consequence of deserting her:

“If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you.”

It is quite clear that he is more attached to the Petcoffs for material benefits than to Louka for emotional reasons. In support of his arguments, he cites plain practical reason:

“When I leave their service and start a shop in Sophia, their custom will be half my capital: their bad word would ruin me.”

As Louka does not like his arguments and boasts of her secrets of the family, through which she intends to blackmail them, he plainly informs her that he too has got some of the secrets. But whereas Louka wants to use those secrets in order to defend her defiance and haughty manners, he wants to utilise those for advancing his material prospects. For, he knows the consequences any fall-out with the family will bring about. He says this because he is painfully conscious of the power of the upper-class in the society:

“Child: you don’t know the power such high people have over the like of you and me when we try to rise out of our poverty against them.”

In spite of all these admonitions and threats, he fails to convince her and ‘complacently’ admits her charge of having the “soul of a servant”, and justifies this as the “secret of success in service”.

In Act III Nicola is found to be in amorous mood, but his advance is checked by Louka’s unusual fashion of wearing her sleeve. Here once again he is forced to warn her in the same threatening tone. But it must be said here that his arguments are based on the false proposition that Louka can be purchased cheaply because of her vulnerable position. In fact, in this bargain he loses, because, even after cashing on many secrets of the family, he fails to sniff out or he may not consider the degree of seriousness of the growing amorous relationship between Sergius and Louka. Instead, in the face of her sarcastic volleys he falls back on to a kind of fanciful cynicism generated from a profit-making motive:

“Ive often thought that if Raina were out of the way, and you just less of a fool and Sergius just a little more of one, you might come to be one of my grandest customers, instead of only being my wife and costing me money.”

This will turn out to be a dramatic irony for him after a little while. But this also shows that he was not completely in the dark about their relationship: he just did not seriously consider the possibility. That is why he goes on threatening her on his supposed superiority as a male servant using the upper-class rhetoric of threat and sympathy.

But as soon as Nicola finds the remote possibility, amounting to impossibility, turning out real, he releases her immediately in cold-blooded acceptance of his position from the celebrated engagement:

“...it was only to give Louka protection. She had a soul above her station, and I have been no more than her confidential servant.”

This is not stoicism, but cynical pragmatic manoeuvring of a middle-aged man, whose only ambition is to reap profit out of the fertile ground of feudalistic manners and tastes. We cannot be sure of such a man’s motive behind giving Louka ‘protection’. As he goes out giving up all his claims on Louka, Sergius calls his act “either finest heroism or the most crawling baseness”. Bluntschli, on the other hand, judges him on practical and personal grounds and declares him “the ablest man in Bulgeria”, meaning that he is the ablest of the Bulgarians in the play.

Character of Ann Whitefield in Shaw’s Man and Superman

Though volumes of criticism have gone to the interpretation of Man and Superman, Ann Whitefield continues to be an enigma. As such that critics are tempted to pronounce partial judgement regarding her character and narrow down the scope and position of her role in the play. Most critics agree with Arthur H. Nethercot that Ann is Shaw’s “prototype of predatory female”, but the assessment of her specific roles vary. Thus Barbara Watson celebrates Ann’s vitality and originality; Mergery M. Morgan denounces her calculating conventionality; and Elric Adams finds that Ann is merely a “composite of traditional types” of heroines. Even her fellow dramatis personae perceive her from their own narrowly circumscribed perspective. To understand Ann in her totality, her role and character should be understood in terms of the organising principles behind the purpose of the composition of the play. That is to say, the play is intended to be a synthesis of the Don Juan myth and Shaw’s philosophy of Creative Evolution, which aims at the making of Superman in accordance with the Life-force, an evolving principle behind the evolution of human race. In the process, active participation of a woman (Ann Whitefield) is needed to be incorporated. But since this is a very complex phenomenon, her character and role have to be critically in different realms of thought—sociology, psychology, philosophy and mythology—so that she can emerge truly as the mother figure for the Superman to come.

The action of the play is conceived and located in two different structures: the immediately apparent dramatic surface reveals the familiar action of comic romance. This in turn derives from a conceptual deep structure, mythic in both content and origin, whose forward thrust directs the surface action. Female domination of the male is one of the most obvious characteristics of the romantic comedy, a truly remarkable paradox since the women have no outlet for their energies outside their narrowly and traditionally defined social and biological roles. Nevertheless, within the confines of their role , women like Ann and Violet exert a powerful , though always a decorous force. Despite Tanner’s protest against marriage and his pretensions to being a utopian philosopher, he is seen as frightened male fleeing from Ann, and finally he is won by Ann as her husband. Similarly, Robuck Ramsden, a “president of highly respectable men” is rendered “Annie’s Granny”, a pompous and ineffectual man. The aspiring poet, Octovious is also paralysed by a romanticised conception of Ann. Again, in the sub-plot both Hector Malone and his son are dominated by Violet’s desire to have marriage and money as well. Even unrequited love for the absent Louisa has made a mountain brigand out of urbane waiter Mendoza.

Thus on the surface comedy, Shaw inverts the traditional man-woman dichotomy which assumed the passivity of women and their corresponding domination by men. He ignores the contemporary Victorian division in favour of the ahistorical view so vehemently asserted by Nietzsche. Nietzche’s simplistic avowal that “everything in women hath a solution—it is called pregnancy”, however, is modified by Shaw’s Schopenhaurian belief n Will. Ann, heir to this Will, is consequently endowed with certain aggressive tendencies popularly thought to be masculine. This inversion is intended not simply for the sake of comedy, but for the sake of serious philosophical concern of Shaw.

Comedy erupts in the first act with Ann’s insistence on retaining Tanner as her guardian. This provokes in him a series of reactions, but finally he is forced to confess of “the birth of moral passion” in him. Act II shows Ann adroitly manipulating Tanner who, in response, leaps into “a sociological rage” only to be neatly deflated. Even she successfully pursues him into the Siera Nevada to capture with the help of Life-force and police force. Thus in her manipulation of the means available to her, Ann emerges supreme in a way Tanner does not approximate. For, her instincts transcend her limited awareness, while Tanner’s intellect is by definition inferior to that of the evolving Superman and by nature less forceful than Ann’s Will. Thus despite lacking the higher intellect the superman will supposedly possess, Ann is more than an instrument of Life-force. For, she becomes identified with the essence of Creative Evolution. Her elusive nature, ever-changing ever various is symbolic of the unending process involved in the system. Therefore, on the surface, the characters around Ann are able discriminate only those qualities they most desire in a woman or expect to see it.

Ironically however, it is Octovious’s abstract projection of Ann, though blurred by his excessive colour of poeticising, that comes near the greater understanding of her character and role. He finds in her “an enchantingly beautiful woman£ who reminds him of “the mystic memory of the whole life of the race to its beginning in the east, or even back to the paradise from which it fell”. This description alludes to the mythic conception of woman which subsumes a startling array of role: daughter, sister, Virgin, bride and mother—all within the mythological role of Queen Goddess of the world, as Sally Peters Vogt has suggested, “the archetypal Goddess who consumes as well as nourishes.” As the goddess and therefore lure and guide to him, Ann tries to lead tanner from dianoia to nous, from merely rational knowledge to unifying wisdom possible through determined will and faith. But paradoxically he recognises in her only the temptress, thereby labelling her with a number of epithets like ‘cat’, ‘boa-constrictor’, ‘lioness’ ‘tiger’, ‘spider’, ‘bee’ and ‘elephant’. Certainly Shaw has not arbitrarily chosen these unlikely animals only to allude outrageously to Ann’s mythic conceptualisations. In mythic lore, the lioness is held to be a symbol of magna mater, while queen bee is associated with both the mother goddess and the Virgin Mary. Similarly, the creativity, aggressiveness and illusion associated the spider are traits Ann exhibits as she pursues and persuades as much as she exhibits the strength and powerful libido which tradition accords the elephant. Again, inextricably identified with Eve—with whom Ann is linked in the stage direction—the snake more than any other creature symbolise the feminine principles. More than this, the majority of these animals are considered lunar animals and have specific associations with the moon in various mythologies. Indeed the psychological functioning of the female is viewed as in some way dependent on the fertility-controlling lunar cycle. Consequently, the additional feminine qualities of maternal love and protection are attributed to the moon, even while its half light creates an aura suggestive of danger and the unconscious. The lunar qualities surface Ann’s inability to explain her motives consciously. Nevertheless she risks all to be wife and mother, even “perhaps death”. More pointedly, her portrait is directly consistent with the major characteristic imputed to the moon, a felicitous ability to appear as both the chaste Diana and the sorceress Hecate. And the incessant modifications in its apparent shape that the moon undergoes are reflected in Ann’s constant role-changing.

Once the essential relationship of the mythic deep structure to the surface comedy is revealed, many of the apparent problems and discrepancies in Ann’s characterisation fall away and her portrait achieves a startling clarity of focus. Therefore, far more than merely a strong-willed young woman, Ann as Woman Incarnate in Shaw’s dramatic version of evolutionary myth becomes nothing less than the hope of the race in the movement toward a superman. Certainly Shaw’s Everywoman is no less than the complete woman, the perfect realisation of womanhood, what Kenneth Burke, after Aristotle, would call the “entelechialisation” of woman. Embodying all female biological drives in a plenary way, she is not merely average woman with average instincts. She is archetypal woman, whose role subsumes all roles. Biologically she may serve the species and socially she may seem to serve men, but psychologically she is free to woo and win as she chooses. So instead of Octovious, who plays at love and life and poetry, she chooses Tanner and rescues him from his private inferno of self-doubt, thus enabling him to function unseparated from society as he seeks order and renewal. Paradoxically identified with both the origin of life and end—which life aspires, Ann becomes a culminant figure, untying the knots of social, psychological and metaphysical questions of evolution of human race. Therefore Shaw’s judgement that “Ann is every woman, but every woman is not Ann”—is no less than a truth.

The Character of Sergius in Arms and the Man

In Sergius the Romantic tradition of hero is inverted to the extent of making him play almost the part of a fool. As usual with other characters Shaw had a definite philosophical and artistic plan behind the creation of his character. That is to say, through the presentation of this character Shaw has attacked the outdated and false feudal ideals which are no longer relevant and realisable in the modern society which is urgently in need of those ideas and principles which the dramatist has undertaken to advocate. Unlike other principal characters he does not undergo any transformation save a degradation from his position, which Shaw deliberately chose to illustrate in order to show his socialist principles in favour of a classless society. The audience, however, cannot be sure of the creative and sustaining capacity of the woman who literally traps him, not out of any creative motive but for material possessions and social position.

Sergius is presented in the beginning of the play in perfect imitation of the theme of appearance and reality in conventional drama. As the curtain opens Shaw presents him in a photograph as “an extremely handsome officer, whose lofty bearing and magnetic glance can be felt even from the portrait.” The person in the photograph is highlighted to the point of being adored with Catherine’s breaking the news of his great victory in the battle of Slivnitza and with Raina’s ecstasy about the man of the moment.

The adorationn soon gets transformed into comic disgrace of impractical foolery. Here his cavalry charge reminds us of the suicidal cavalry attack in The Charge of the Light Brigade by Tennyson, which Shaw perhaps had in mind while conceiving of his character. As Bluntschli exposes his foolishness, the photograph turns into a comic curiosity of the audience and their focus is now shifted on to the fugitive. Sergius’ foolishness is further emphasised in Major Petcoff’s sarcasm, from whom the audience do not expect much insight:

“Yes so that he could throw away whole brigade instead of regiments.”

With the actual entrance of Sergius on the stage Shaw devotes a long passage of explanation for the understanding of his personality. What we gather about him is that he is a split personality, not purely in the psychological sense, but in the cultural sense. Shaw points to multiple contradictory features which are detached from common sense and practical intelligence and aligned with false ideas. In other words, he is given to lost ideals, which arose out of the feudal structure of the society and imperialist motive of the whole western civilisation supported by the glittering ideas of Enlightenment.

When it comes to dealing with practical affairs of warfare, he fails miserably. But instead of confessing his worthlessness, he hypocritically tries to justify it by saying, “This hand is more accustomed to the sword than to the pen”. This proves nothing other than catering amusement to the audience. This form of hypocrisy is further detected in his charge of deception against Raina while himself being fully conscious of his own digression is in flirting with Louka behind her back. His false confidence, based on the supposedly unquestionable aristocratic power and position and on being a male member of that society, receives a terrible blow when Bluntschli accepts his challenge for a duel coolly without a question. He understands a change in Raina’s mind but cannot anticipate that he can be equally charged by the new woman empowered with a voice: “Do you know that I looked out of the window as I went upstairs, to have a sight of my hero; and I saw something I did not understand then.” As he finds out that all his pretensions of heroic and romantic ideas are gone, he holds on to cynicism and declares: “Life’s a farce.” But his pride still remains and he acts in accordance with the false sense of honour while apologising to Louka, the maidservant in chivalric fashion. This ironically leads him to fall into the trap laid by the strong-willed woman who readily captures him.

Finally it can be said that his acceptance of Louka as his wife is truly heroic in the sense that he comes out of his fanciful self and acts out of reality principle. But the audience cannot be sure of higher order out of their union. They leave him at the mercy and good and strong will of the woman he marries. What a pity!

The Character of Raina in Arms and the Man

Raina is one of Shaw’s finest creations. There must have been a conflict between Shaw the artist and Shaw the moralist in the conception of such a powerful and fascinating character. But his greatness lies in the fact that he succeeds in presenting his philosophy behind the artistic facade. Unlike Bluntschli who is not presented with those sparks of a conventional hero, Raina is invested with all the charms and qualities of any heroine of a conventional comedy.

In the very beginning of the drama Raina is presented just as any other heroine from the romantic tradition. The dramatist describes her at length in the stage direction:

“On the balcony a young lady, intensively conscious of the romantic beauty of the night, and of the fact that her own youth and beauty are part of it, is gazing at the snowy Balkans ....”

The romantic ambience is suddenly enhanced with her mother’s breaking of the news that a great battle at Slivnitza has been won by none other than Sergius, to whom she is betrothed. The audience can understand that this is the same man in the large photograph. After the momentary expressions of feminine joys are over, Raina confesses that she not only “doubted him”, but also the romantic view of ‘patriotism’ and the “heroic ideals”. Now that she has found that she was a “prosaic little coward”, she comes to the conclusion that “the world is really a glorious world for women who can think see its glory and men who can act its romance”. After her mother and Louka have gone, she indulges herself in adoring the hero and enjoying the “blessed reality”.

But very soon the climax of joy is interrupted by a fugitive who enters her chamber contrary to her wish (“...if there are no fugitives.”), which turns out to be a dramatic irony. Raina here may be said to be acting wisely by following the instructions of the fugitive at the point of his revolver; but since she has remained too much preoccupied with her romantic fantasies, she throws those ideas on the face of the man who, to her utter displeasure, is found to be voicing contrary views. Perhaps because of this fact, she gets interested in his views. One is reminded here of the Renaissance theory of magic that opposite poles attract each other. But along with this, Raina may also be said to be taking the opportunity to celebrate the supposed victory of her romantic ideas, feudal aristocratic values and Bulgerian fashions. She decides to save the fugitive partly under the influence of the heroic act of saving the life of a fugitive in Ernani’s opera. The audience can well understand her foolishness in placing herself and her family in the position of the nobles in Ernani’s opera and enjoy the display with a smile. In fact, Shaw dedicates Act I to shattering the feudal, nationalist and imperialist glorification of war. The first notion about bravery, shared by Raina and the audience as well, is mocked at by Blutschli who tells her plainly that the ideal collapses under the constant threat of losing one’s life and that it is prudent to save one’s life by following the demands of instincts rather than heroic ideals. Under the strong emotion of patriotism and more importantly under the desire of taking a sweet revenge on him for blackmailing her, when Raina tries to categorise and differentiate the Bulgerian peole from the enemy people, she gets to know the real story of Sergius’s utter foolishness in leading a cavalry charge. At this she gets “deeply wounded” and tries to neutralise the situation (or examine the truth about Sergius particularly) by showing off the portrait of Sergius. But as Bluntschli apologises and at the same time “stifles a laugh”, she gets offended to the point of showing him the way out down the water-pipe. The mellow and tender aspects of her character are emphasised at the next moment when she takes pity on the worn-out soldier who surrenders his life. Shaw takes this even further by pointing out the mother in her as she decisively reassures and proceeds to save Bluntschli. But while doing so, she also transforms him into “a chocolate cream soldier” and marks him for her own following the Shavian belief that men are pursued by women for producing higher forms of life in the process of Creative Evolution, a theme which is treated in the archetypal level in Man and Superman. Here it must be noted that Raina saves him not just out of her romantic fancy created by Ernani’s opera, and that nor all the romantic higher sentiments are mocked at by Shaw. What Shaw attacks are the pretensions, foolishness and class-consciousness associated with romantic behaviour of people.

In Act II, Raina, already transformed, tries to behave in usual accustomed manner with Sergius, whom she finds somewhat changed partly by his experience in the front and partly by Bluntschli himself. As she tries to maintain the usual air, she gets internally upset by the story of an enemy soldier’s escape with the help of two Bulgarian ladies. She perceives somehow that just like herself Sergius is also pretending to be in higher love. Her words betray conscious irony of their relationship:

“When I think of you, I feel that I would never do a base deed, or think an ignoble thought.”

Again, since she has begun to suspect Sergius’s person, after a few moments she looks down while going inside the house only to find his “higher love” to be offered to Louka so easily. As the entire project of fantasies gets crashed, she begins to express discontent and tensions. This is evident in her comment upon their relationship to her mother:

“I always feel a longing to do or say something dreadful to him—to shock his propriety—to scandalise the five sense out of him.”

She even wishes that Sergius find the truth about the “chocolate cream soldier”. The wish-fulfilment occurs soon with Bluntschli’s abrupt entrance. She welcomes him with a mischievous exclamation. Catherine, conscious of the sudden changes in her daughter, tries to manage the situation, but Raina waits for her turn to meet the captain.

In Act III Raina finds the opportunity to win Bluntschli. Far from being conscious of her real intention he tries to play down her questions in usual smart manner of a pragmatic man. After a while he is forced to admit his being “infatuated admirer”. Here Raina may be said to be stooping to conquer the man she eyes for her and for this she comes out of the image of a conventional woman. The original audience, who had still been to some extent under the Victorian notion of woman’s modesty, could find an image of a different kind of woman in Raina, who goes on saying one thing while thinking something else. For instance, she speaks of being “quite perfect with Sergius, no meanness, no smallness, no deceit” even after she spotted Sergius flirting with Louka and found the truth about the “one really beautiful and noble part” of her life. She does this intentionally to see whether Bluntschli can discover the person inside her. As soon as he does so, she leads him to acknowledge: “I’m your infatuated admirer.”

Now, with her object fixed she goes to settle the score with Sergius who acts like a fool under pressure from two women. The drama reaches its climax in the battle of the sexes, in which the women decidedly win with men becoming puppets in their hands. The hunting—which should not be confused with husband –hunting of some of the Romantic and Victorian novels, seems very dramatic, but the plot has already been fixed by the dramatist in accordance with his philosophical system.

In fine, we it can be said that Shaw presents the birth of the new woman in Raina who progresses from false ideas and ethos of the romantic tradition to a new realization her place in society in equal terms with men being fully conscious of her dignity. That is why she refuses to offer her hand to the “highest bidder” and claims Bluntschli as the “chocolate cream soldier”. Finally, we can say that ultimately her romanticism wins over material and social concerns of her mother, but that part of her romanticism is not false in that it is humane and real.

The Character of Bluntschli in Arms and the Man

Shaw conceived of Bluntschli almost as a Hegelian character, in the sense that through him he has presented an antithesis of the conventional morality, romantic ideas of love and war and feudal notions of the place of the individual in society. Shaw does all this, however, under a dramatic scheme. The very name ‘Blunt(sch)li’ itself is perhaps deliberately chosen to cover up the potentialities of the man, with which he threatens the fragile facade of the complacent society. Through his character, however, Shaw attacks not only the ethos, romantic ideas and feudal concepts, he also inverts the tradition of the nature and role of the hero in comedy. But it should not be thought that Shaw presented Bluntschli with the sole object of satirising, which is a destructive art; in fact, he presents his unheroic hero from a system of thought that seeks a better society, where the individual’s status will not been determined and fixed by class and gender, but by what s/he is capable of contributing to the making of a higher forms of individuals and society. This point leads to the discussion of Shaw’s theory of ‘Superman’. In this respect it can be said that, though Shaw did not present a theoretical exposition of the theory, the idea is anticipated in the creation of the character of Bluntschli. For, such a man—freed from all the illusions about his life and the world—can participate in or volunteer himself in the making of Superman.

The audience meet Bluntschli in the very opening of the drama in an unusual state for a hero. This becomes more perceptible because the exotic stage setup (or stage direction) and the conversation between a girl of imagination and a typically worried mother prepare the room for something melodramatically unexpected for the western European audience (for whom it was meant originally). Quite contrary to the fantasies of a young girl, a fugitive enters the chamber (the stage) in a very sorry state in the form of Bluntschli, whose terrible make-up and prosaic appearance –bluntly contrasted with those of the man in picture—would hardly pass for a hero with the audience and , of course, with the heroine. The dramatist describes him as he appears to Raina and the audience:

“...he is of middling stature and undistinguished appearance, with strong neck and shoulders, roundish obstinate looking head covered with short crisp bronze curls, clear quick eyes and good brows and mouth, hopelessly prosaic nose like that of a strong minded baby...”

What is striking about the man is the quick sense of the situation by which he blackmails the girl with repeated warning: “Do you understand that?” but what is more striking is his honesty about his predicament: “I don’t intend to get killed if I can help.” The confession, however, does not appeal to Raina, who owing to her Romantic, predisposition about war, reacts with disdain: “Some soldiers, I know, are afraid to die”. To this, quite contrary to her expectation, Bluntschli returns a plain statement which, though does not lessen her disdain, does create curiosity about the truths about a soldier and war: “All of them, dear lady, all of them, believe me.” He almost demonstrates the truth by resorting to using the young girl’s cloak as “a better weapon than the revolver”. Raina is, on the one hand, deeply hurt by the ‘unchivalrous’ cynicism, and on the other, is forced to believe and take pity on the man who surrenders everything to her at the sounds of impending death. As she arranges for hiding him and saving his life, Bluntschli utters a warning as well as lesson, which summarises his situation: “Remember—nine soldiers out of ten are born fools”.

After Raina befools the soldiers and saves his life, Bluntschli appears seemingly a greater fool with his display of fear “like a frightened horse” and with the revelation that the revolver was empty. Raina gets “outraged” as the dramatist says, “in her most cherished ideals of manhood” when Bluntschli declares:

“What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of that hours ago.”

This leads to the famous (or infamous) chocolate cream episode, and with this begins Bluntschli’s gradual transformation from a mercenary into “chocolate cream soldier”. But the transformation—which may be called a metamorphosis, does not happen solely to Bluntschli; in fact, as a result of the action of the play, Raina changes and the fugitive causes her transformation with his new ideas and true reports of the battlefield and contradicting her ideas. For instance, when, irritated at un-heroic behaviour, she expresses her false confidence, “Our soldiers are not like that”, Bluntschli replies with authority:

“Oh yes they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: old ones and young ones. Ive served fourteen years: half of your fellows never smelt powder before...”

In the course of talking when it comes to the cavalry charge launched by Sergius, Bluntschli exposes the glory in an authentic Shavian manner: “

“Well, it is a funny sight. It’s like slinging a handful of peas against a window pane: first one comes; then two or three close behind him; and then all the rest in a lump.”

Bluntschli, however, in the enthusiasm of justifying his retreat also exposes the accidental heroism of Sergius, whom he describes as a “regular handsome fellow, with flashing eyes and lovely moustache, shouting his war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills.” His words produce tremendous effect on Raina, who, in an attempt to neutralise her position shows him off Sergius’ picture. Here it can be said that Bluntschli forces Raina to examine Sergius and their relationship in new light of realism.

While Bluntschli’s display of his fatigue, inability and ignorance provide entertainment to the audience, it also underscores the sufferings, fatigue and tortures a soldier has to undergo in real situation. Quite contrary to the feudal glorification of a soldier’s job as an orderly one of service of higher kind, Bluntschli lets himself into a loose delirium created by fatigue and accelerated by suddenly found refuge:

“I’m to go to bed, but not to sleep. Be sure not to sleep, because of danger. Not to lie down either, only sit down...”

On the other hand, he chooses the best option to avoid getting killed through completely surrendering to the woman, in whom he has found instinctively a saviour.

In Act II Bluntschli enters the stage in the middle of the action and once again his entrance creates a lot of confusion as he comes himself to return Major Petcoff’s coat. The way Major Petkoff and Sergius receive him at the last moment of his being turned away from the house, makes it amply clear that Bluntschli is well known for his abilities as a captain among the higher ranks of the conflicting armies. Even before his arrival, we hear from Major Petcoff and Sergius how a Swish managed them to accept his terms. Here we find both Major Petcoff and Sergius somewhat changed in their attitude to war and Bluntschli as a captain caused this subtle change. Major Petcoff acknowledges that “soldiering has to be a trade like any other trade”. As Bluntschli confidently proceeds upstairs to solve the transit problems, he comes across Raina for whom precisely he has come to “sneak a look” as he will confess later. It just because of this that he casts a “whimsical glance at her” and that he agrees to stay much to the pleasure of Raina and to the displeasure of Catherine.

At the beginning of the Act III Bluntschli’s capacity in transacting business is well demonstrated and at the same time is contrasted with the utter inability of Major Petcoff and Sergius. After he finishes off sending the garrisons, perhaps he deliberately succeeds in sending others out so that he may get an opportunity to talk to the girl, who, before him, comes forward to start the conversation. As Raina begins in almost flirting tone, he keeps his cool even in such provocative words as: “You look ever so much nicer than when we last met...What have you done to yourself?” The sweet start, however, gives way to serious exchange of words. Here Bluntschli seems to have chosen to appeal to Raina by contradicting and doubting her words. In fact, he takes her words lightly, but questioned seriously he is forced to declare the following words which completely unsettle Raina from her Romantic disposition:

“When you strike that noble attitude and soeak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it impossible to believe a single word you say.”

Then he successfully transforms her statement into his favour by forcing her to acknowledge that he is “the first man that has even taken you quite seriously”. But as soon as he finds Raina emotionally breaking down at her inner person being discovered, he balances the emotional sway in her favour (at the same time in his favour) by announcing the naturalist truth Shaw reiterates in other plays:

“ I’m like all the rest of them, the nurse, your parents, Sergius: I’m your infatuated admirer.”

In other words, Raina, like other Shavian heroines, has got the charm and ability to attract and involve men in the making of Superman. However, for the first time the audience perceive the extent to which Bluntschli has impressed Raina when in the middle of the conversation he suddenly informs her of his father’s death and decides to start for Switzerland.

After Bluntschli returns to the stage Bluntschli faces Sergius who challenges him for a duel as the former feels that he has been cheated by the Switzer. The way he accepts the challenge and answers the charges brought against him disheartens Sergius, who, on the other hand, is charged by Raina of making love to Louka in her back. Bluntschli sympathetically refuses to judge Louka, who, according to him, has acted in accordance with the reality of the situation she was in. Then as Raina’s photograph with the inscription leads to Bluntschli’s being discovered as “Chocolate Cream Soldier”, he tries to clear the doubts by stating what happened actually at the night of his escape from the front. But quite unexpectedly he falls into the trap of Raina’s arguments and he is led to declare that he is not married and, therefore, should consider marrying her. At this point once again Bluntschli shows his principle of judging people on their capacity to perform practical works in real situation, not on what they do by adhering to foolish ideals, while he defends Nicola.

As Louka successfully traps down and hooks up Sergius, she tries to justify herself mischievously by pointing out, quite correctly, Raina’s targeting of Bluntschli. Bluntschli goes on refute the charges against him and Raina, he does the greatest by taking her for a girl of seventeen. By the time he understands his mistake, he has been totally outsmarted by Raina, who has chosen him long before as an agent of nature needed to fulfil her mission in creating Superman in the process of Creative Evolution. But even as he is proved to be “a romantic idiot” by her, he comes out triumphantly with the declaration of his material possessions and, above all, of his position:

“My rank is the highest in Switzerland: I am a free citizen.”

But as soon as he finds that Raina is not ready “to be sold to the highest bidder”, he changes his approach and wins her and the audience’s favour by declaring himself once again “a fugitive, a beggar and a starving man”.

In conclusion, we can say that Bluntschli’s character undergoes a transformation as he comes in contact with Raina. Here it should be remembered that the transformation is preconceived by the dramatist so that he may present him as an agent for destroying the conventional romantic ideas about love and war and feudal concepts of man’s place in society. But ironically enough, towards the end of the play he is forced to acknowledge—perhaps as a matter of habitual slip, his “incurably romantic disposition”. However, this should not be confused with those of Raina or Sergius, for, while in Bluntschli’s case the romantic tendencies are innate and, therefore, necessary in the process of Creative Evolution, in the cases of Raina and Sergius those are partly self-imposed and partly imposed by their education. In other words, Bluntschli opposes the principles of romanticism with his creative brand of romanticism. And he does so with what a difference!