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Belonging as the Key to Self-Knowledge
Antipholus of Syracuse is a man whose long quest to find his missing mother and brother has caused him to lose his sense of self. Antipholus says as much upon his arrival in Ephesus. He has come to this city to continue his search, and he’ll have the day to wander around town. Yet it’s clear that Antipholus has grown weary of his quest and increasingly uncertain of its success. A hint of his defeatism may be detected when the merchant on whose ship he’s been traveling tells him to meet back in the same place later in the day, to which Antipholus replies: “Farewell till then. I will go lose myself / And wander up and down to view the city” (1.2.30–31). Though initially his phrase “lose myself” may sound innocuous, it carries more weight when he repeats it shortly thereafter. Speaking to himself once the merchant has gone, Antipholus laments the fruitlessness of his quest, and he compares himself to a drop of water seeking out another drop in the vast ocean. Confounded by the seeming impossibility of his search, he concludes: “So I, to find a mother and a brother, / In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself” (1.2.39–40).
Clearly, the separation from his family has led Antipholus of Syracuse to lose sight of who he is. But as is typical in Shakespearean comedies, before the hero of the play can find himself again, Antipholus must first undergo a more profound experience of self-alienation. Thus, for instance, when he’s summoned to “his” house for the midday meal “his” wife has prepared for him, his growing confusion shows clearly in his odd behavior. Adriana is confounded when the man she believes is her husband repeatedly tells her he has no wife. She then asks, “how comes it / That thou are . . . estrangèd from thyself” (2.2.130–31). Notably, Adriana’s speech echoes Antipholus’s earlier speech about feeling lost and uncertain about who he is. This loss of self will grow increasingly acute as others continue to misidentify him as his twin brother. It will take until the play’s last scene for the confusion of the day finally to be cleared up and the distinction between the two Antipholuses to be restored. Only then, with his quest complete and his family reunited, does the Syracusan Antipholus find himself again.
The Triumph of Good Humor
As is the case in many Shakespearean comedies, the action begins with the threat of tragedy. In the case of The Comedy of Errors, the primary threat relates to Egeon’s death sentence. The Syracusan merchant has been arrested by the Duke of Ephesus for disregarding a travel ban between their two cities, and the law requires that he be put to death if he can’t pay an exorbitant ransom by day’s end. The possibility of his execution therefore hangs over the action of the play. The second scene introduces another threat to the play’s comic orientation: namely, the melancholy disposition of Antipholus of Syracuse. Antipholus has been on a seven-year quest to find his missing family members, the fruitlessness of which has led him to feel existentially lost and incomplete. Though less classically “tragic” than the threat of Egeon’s execution, Antipholus’s melancholy nonetheless invites the possibility that his quest will fail and that he won’t find himself by the play’s end. Moreover, as the chaos of the day leads to confusion and misidentification, both the Syracusan and the Ephesian Antipholus grow increasingly frustrated and take their anger out by violently abusing their respective bondsmen. In other words, ill humor abounds.
But in order for the play to achieve the comic ending promised in its title, good humor must ultimately triumph. The key to unlocking the play’s comic promise lies with the two Dromios, who act as servants to the two Antipholuses. Reflecting a common theatrical trope in which lower-class characters exhibit a comic earthiness, the Dromios are both merry jokesters. Yet even as these bondsmen are equally characterized by good cheer, their masters are not equally susceptible to their influence. Antipholus of Ephesus is particularly cranky and often seems immune to his Dromio’s antics. By contrast, the relationship between Antipholus of Syracuse and his Dromio is, at base, defined by friendly camaraderie. Early on he describes his Dromio as “a trusty villain” who “lightens my humor with his merry jests” whenever he’s feeling melancholy (1.2.19, 21). And as we see again and again in the play, regardless of whether his master is sad, confused, or cross, Dromio of Syracuse is adept as restoring his good humor. When the play finally ends with the confusions of the day all cleared up, it’s fitting that the Dromios have the last words. Symbolically, they form the play’s comic bedrock, enabling all threats to be defused and good humor, finally, to triumph.
The Violence of Domestic Authority
A key theme in The Comedy of Errors relates to the matter of domestic authority and the violence that maintains it. This theme arguably stems from the play’s setting in the Greek city of Ephesus, which for Shakespeare’s audiences would have been closely associated with the Bible. Specifically, Ephesus would have been linked to two books from the New Testament that have been attributed to Paul the Apostle: namely, the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistle to the Ephesians, both of which reference Paul’s experience in Ephesus. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul gave special emphasis to the matter of domestic authority. He therefore underscores the importance of wives obeying their husbands and servants obeying their masters. In Ephesians 5:22, for instance, Paul advises: “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands, as unto the Lord.” Likewise, in Ephesians 6:5, he insists: “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ.”
This play examines both the husband–wife relationship and the master–servant relationship, and in each case the hierarchy of authority is maintained through acts of violence. Take, for example, the relationship between Antipholus of Ephesus and his wife Adriana. Adriana freely voices her frustration that her husband should enjoy so much liberty while she enjoys so little. When her sister Luciana implores her to show obedience like a proper wife should, Adriana quips: “There’s none but asses will be bridled so” (2.1.14). Whereas Luciana echoes Paul’s dictum that wives should obey their husbands, Adriana views male domestic authority as a violent form of dehumanization. A more explicit form of violence appears in the relationships that each of the Antipholuses have with their respective Dromios. Both masters are prone to anger, which they often express by beating their bondsmen. Dromio of Ephesus is particularly unfortunate, in that both Antipholus and Adriana freely beat him. The Dromios both complain about the way their masters treat them. Though their complaints don’t change their situation, Shakespeare gives them the last words of the play, suggesting that it’s the servants—and not the masters—who ensure that the play ends on an appropriately comic note.
