Exile and restoration in John Crowne's The Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian.
(Romeo and Juliet, 3.3.19-21)
IN JANUARY 1677, The Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian, written by John Crowne in two parts, premiered at the Theatre Royal. (1) Performed by His Majesty's Servants, and later dedicated to Charles II's Catholic mistress, the Duchess of Portsmouth, the play is set against the backdrop of the siege of an insurgent Jerusalem and the capture and destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans in 70 CE, and tells the story of star-crossed lovers: Titus, the Roman commander soon to be emperor, and Berenice, a Jewish princess. A tale of exotic cultures in conflict, with a hero divided between the contradictory claims of desire and empire, Crowne's drama exhibits the stock elements of heroic tragedy in the style of Elkanah Settles Empress of Morocco (1673) and John Dryden's Conquest of Granada (1670-71), widely regarded as the greatest of the "love and valor" plays popular on the Restoration stage. The story of the ill-fated affair between Titus and Berenice was something of a theatrical fashion in the 1670s, with Pierre Corneille and Jean Racine in France producing plays on the subject in the same year (1670). Crowne's model was Racine, whose Berenice had been adapted by Thomas Otway for the Duke's Company only the previous year. (2)
Both parts of The Destruction of Jerusalem met with such "extravagant applause" that the play supposedly aroused the envy of Crowne's patron, the Earl of Rochester, who promptly "commenced an enemy to the bard he before had so much befriended." (3) Stuart Gillespie and David Hopkins describe it aptly as a "heroic extravaganza" replete with sieges, battles, and feats of martial valor. (4) It boasted a stellar cast, with Edward Kynaston and Charles Hart playing Titus and Phraartes, and Mrs. Marshall and Mrs. Boutell in the roles of Berenice and Clarona. The play incurred "vast expense in scenes and cloathes" with a series of magnificent sets: the lavish Temple gates, the chaotic streets of "starving Jerusalem" and "the blazing Temple sinking to destruction in a sea of fire." (5) Despite its theatrical success, The Destruction of Jerusalem has been dismissed as a cheap derivation lacking both Racine's complex psychology and Dryden's mastery of verse and dramatic structure. Consequently, scholars of Restoration drama overlook the singular achievement of Crowne's tragedy: the setting.
The Destruction of Jerusalem is the only play to set the interracial love story of Titus and Berenice in war-torn Jerusalem. Unlike the French plays and Otway's translation, which are set in Rome after the events of 70 CE, Crowne's play positions the doomed romance in Jerusalem during the fall of the Temple. (6) Historically, the two events--the siege and the affair--were not coterminous. The latter occurred a few years after, in Rome. Unlike Corneille, Racine, and Otway, who meticulously follow the historical accounts, Crowne deliberately replaces Rome with Jerusalem so that the fractured love story is superimposed upon the saga of the beleaguered city rife with conspiracy and rebellion. Furthermore, The Destruction of Jerusalem is only one of two seventeenth-century English plays--William Heminges's The Jewes Tragedy (1662) is the other--to juxtapose Roman and Jewish society in Judea. (7)
It is curious that the scholars who express bafflement at the success of Crowne's play should have neglected the import of Jerusalem. (8) The editors of Crowne's works in the nineteenth century attribute the choice of setting to the success of the Conquest of Granada, surmising that Crowne hoped to be "as successful with the Jews and Romans as the Laureate [Dryden] had been with the Moors and Spaniards." (9) Even critics who acknowledge the play's theatrical appeal tend to dismiss the setting as mere excuse for the flashy denouement. Arthur Franklin White identifies the spectacular burning of the Second Temple orchestrated with the help of William Davenant as the reason for the play's early popularity, but exhibits little interest in what Jerusalem may have signified for Crowne's audience. (10) Robert Hume, while stressing the visual impact of The Destruction of Jerusalem which he describes as "a lush work," is doubtful that the play had any "significant intellectual or political design." Recently, Don-John Dugas notes that the play was so "resplendent with elaborate scenes and effects that we. should not be surprised that contemporaries enjoyed it," but he, too, is uninterested in the import of the "foreign setting." Richard Capwell's extensive investigation of Crowne's sources similarly dismisses the "historical material" as "merely background for the love stories." (11) Only John B. Rollins in his study of Crowne's apocalyptic rhetoric insists that "the center of the play is, as the title suggests, the destruction of the city of Jerusalem" (12)
Because of its focus on the brutal conclusion to the Roman-Jewish war, Crowne's play demands to be read in the context of the rich preoccupation with Jerusalem in seventeenth-century histories, sermons, ballads, apocalyptic pamphlets as well as political memoranda on the controversial return of the Jews to England. A popular entertainment, it participates in the circulating polyvalent discourse on the fall of the Temple and the exile of the Jews from the Holy Land. Above all, its preoccupation with the trope of banishment speaks powerfully to the nightmare of exile and dislocation, endured not only by the Jews newly readmitted to England between the mid 1650s and 1660s, but also by the Restoration court, whose members may have comprised Crowne's audience at the Theatre Royal. It is therefore as a species of late seventeenth-century historiography that The Destruction of Jerusalem merits critical attention.
What did the fall of Jerusalem signify for seventeenth-century England and, specifically, for Crowne's exile-scarred post-Restoration milieu? To answer this question, a brief recapitulation of the history of the siege and its reception in early modern England may be helpful. It is a commonplace that Jerusalem has dominated Western culture as a city that exists in geographical as well as in metaphorical space--a dominion of the body politic as well as of the soul. For Christian-Jewish relations, in particular, few moments hold as great significance as the siege of Jerusalem and the demolition of the Temple, which form the historical context for Crowne's drama. As recounted in Flavius Josephus's History of the Jewish Wars or Bellurn Judaicurn (75 CE), the Roman suppression of the Jewish revolt in 66 CE culminated in the tragic destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, and the siege of Massada three years later. The rebellion had been simmering in the decades under Roman military control but the situation exploded when the then procurator, Gessius Florus, confiscated a share of the Temple treasury and sent in two armed cohort to deal with the outraged Jews. In 67 CE, an army of nearly sixty thousand led by Vespasian and his son, Titus, was sent into Palestine to quell the uprising. Titus assumed sole control of the rebellion after his father was called back to Rome to be crowned emperor. After a prolonged siege, the troops breached the city's walls, razed the Temple, and massacred the defenders within the city.
The fall of the Temple to the Romans and the annexation of Judea had profound and calamitous religious, social, and political implications for the Jews. The definitive collapse of Jewish nationalist hopes was trumpeted by Hadrian's construction of Aelia Capitolina, a new city on the site of Jewish Jerusalem in 130 CE, and a decree forbidding Jews to reenter the city. Without the Temple, traditional Jewish life was unimaginable. Gedaliah Alon notes that the destruction of the Temple not only wiped out "a symbol of national pride" for the Jew, but also "rendered impossible the practice of whole areas of his religion, especially in the field of communal ritual." (13) The scattered Jews mourned not simply the loss of their city but the loss of their inheritance as the chosen people of God.
Early Christians were quick to interpret the burning of the Temple--the center of Jewish life and the living monument of the covenant--as incontrovertible evidence that God had sided with them against the Jews. (14) Roman destruction of the Temple, to quote Robert Wilken, "declared to the world the impotence and rout of Judaism." (15) Stephen Wright agrees that the Roman victory over Jerusalem "came to stand for nothing less than the ultimate triumph-of Ecclesia over Synagoga, a symbol of the Western Church's repudiation of its own Jewish heritage." (16) Through the writings of Eusebius, a fourth-century bishop of Caesarea who based his account on the eyewitness narrative of Josephus (himself a Temple priest), this providentialist reading became axiomatic in Christian historiography. (17) A sixteenth-century translation of Eusebius's history of the church titled 7he Auncient Ecclesiasticall Histories provides a graphic account of the temple "sett on fire" with the men, young and old, rounded up and sold into captivity, while the women, children, and priests who "hid themselves in vautts, in walls, and in corners of the temple ... were burnt to ashes." (18) Reminding his readers that Jesus had predicted nothing less for the Jews, (19) Eusebius conjured up the vision of a people too drunk on their own illusions of glory to heed the gathering storm:
If thou haddst knowne ... these thinges whiche belonge unto thy peace, even at this daie, thou wouldest take hede. But nowe are they hidde from thine eies.... there shalle be greate trouble in the lande, and wrath over all this people, and they shall fall through the edge of the sworde, and shall be ledde away captive unto all nations, and Jerusalem shall be troden downe of the Gentiles, untill the time of the Gentyles be fulfilled. (20)
For early modern Christian moralists, the horrors inflicted upon the Jews exemplified the plagues of sin and the providential punishment of God's enemies. Jerusalem became their prototype for all recalcitrant peoples, sinful, proudly unrepentant, and marked out by God for condign punishment.
Of the chastisements inflicted upon the Jews, banishment was identified as the worst. Historians now suggest that emigration from Israel during the first centuries of the first millennium was a gradual process rather than a large-scale eviction organized by Roman authorities. (21) However, the dominant myth was that just as Nebuchadnezzar had destroyed the First Temple and exiled the Judaeans to Babylon, so did Titus destroy Jerusalem and proscribe its citizens. The myth of exile connected the fall of the Temple with the radical dispersal of the Jewish community. (22) Israel J. Yuval posits that "the crushing of the Bar-Kokhba rebellion (132-36 CE) was regarded by the Church Fathers as the final blow in the destruction of the Second Temple system, establishing thereby a direct connection between the Jews' sin (the crucifixion of Jesus) and their punishment (the destruction of Jerusalem and the exile of the nation from its land)." (23) Voiced memorably in Eusebius's History and Praeparatio Evangelica, Origen's Contra Celsum, Tertullian's Adversos Judaeos, Jerome's Commentary, and Augustine's City of God, the "exile" of the Jews was interpreted as a fulfillment of the prophecy in Isaiah 1:7, "Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire: your land, strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers."
Crowne's heritage was a long tradition of medieval and early Renaissance accounts, derived principally from Josippon or Joseph ben Gurion, popularly equated with Josephus, which linked the fall of the Temple with the exile of the Jews. The Josippon, or Sefer Yosippon, was a tenth-century Hebrew chronicle based on the Latin abridgement of Josephus and heavily Christianized. Its popularity in early modern England is attested by the twenty editions published between the mid-sixteenth and mid-seventeenth centuries. (24) Here, Crowne's titular hero, Titus Vespasian, was transformed into a great (if drastic) religious reformer who decreed banishment for the Jews as just punishment for the death of Christ. (25) The interpretation of the Jews' exile and dislocation as God's vengeance, a commonplace in Elizabethan England, was given an interesting slant in Peter Morwyng's A Compendious and Most Marvellous History of the Latter Tymes of the Jewes Commune Weale, a translation of Sebastian Munster's Latin version of Abraham Ibn Daud's twelfth-century abstract of Josippon, published in 1558. Morwyng's preface emphasizes the vengeance wreaked upon the Jewish nation in order to encourage readers to apply the example of Jerusalem to present-day London: 'As when thou seest the Jewes here afflicted with divers kinds of misery, because they fell from God: then maist thou be admonished hereby to see the better to thine owne wales, least the like calamities light upon thee" (26) Morwyng's note of warning participates in the discourse of early modern moralists who promoted the idea of God's "special relationship with England as paradigmatically Israel." (27) By illustrating the providential patterns in the history of the Jews, Morwyng hoped to alert England, now the elect nation, of the responsibilities of the covenant and the punishment for forsaking it. Likewise, Thomas Nashe regards the events and aftermath of 70 CE as a valuable lesson, concluding that it would not "be amisse to write something of mourning, for London to harken counsaile of her great Grand-mother, Jerusalem." Nashe's invocation in Christ's Teares over Jerusalem (1593, 1613) perpetuates the myth of the sin-flushed nation, hoist with its own petard:
O Jerusalem, not the Infidell-Romaines, which shall invade thee, and make thy Citty (now cleped a Citty of peace) a shambles of dead bodies, teare down thy Temple, and sette up a brothel-house in thy Sanctuarie, not they (I say) shall have one droppe of thy blood layde to theyr charge; not one stone of Thy Temple or Sanctuarie testificatory against them: ?by blood shal be uppon thine owne head, whose transgressions violently thrust swords into theyr hands ..."
In sharp counterpoint to the "Temple-bosting lewes" Nashe presents the spurned Savior as one who laments the impending alienation of his people: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! All this might'st thou have avoided... Save thyself as well as thou mayst, for I have forsaken thee; to desolation have I resigned thee." (28)
The history of Jerusalem's destruction thus became highly relevant to the English nation as a presentiment of impending calamity should they too subvert election. The urgency of this warning is underscored by the dozen or so editions of Morwyng's adaptation of the Josippon between 1558 and 1662. It is likely that Crowne would have been familiar with the version published by James Stafford in 1652 and again in 1662, translated and edited by James Howell, with the new title of The Wonderful and Most Deplorable History of the Latter Times of the Jews. Stafford's "Epistle Dedicatory" identifies the "ugly and enormous Crimes"--the worst manifestation of the "true Jewish spirit"--with the excesses of the English Civil War, and pointedly equates the "Crimes and Crying sins, which raigned in Jerusalem before her last and utter destruction" with the "spirit of Sedition, instable and stubborn Rebellious hearts, their murmurings at Government, and an itch after Innovations" Essentially, it describes the very same high crimes and misdemeanors of which the puritans were accused during the tumultuous years of civil strife. The regicide of Charles I is made to "bear a kind of analogy" to the Crucifixion, and indeed, in some respects, it becomes even more deplorable:
Nay the Jews (whereof there are swarms now in this City) will not stick to say, that it was a Murther beyond theirs; for what they did, they did it out of blindness and ignorance: for they neither knew nor acknowledged Him to be King of the Jew: But the English did accuse and arraign, they did condemn and murther King CHARLES by the name of their own king, the King of England.
By comparing regicide to crucifixion, Stafford's "Epistle Dedicatory" is polemical in its equation of the English Republic with fallen Jerusalem. The charged anti-Semitic rhetoric is picked up by Howell, the first Royal Historiographer, who virulently opposes readmission for the "swarms" of Jews into England, a matter that was memorably debated in Cromwell's Whitehall Conference in 1655. His "Epistle Dedicatory," written from the Prison of the Fleet in February 1650, is an exhortation to fellow royalists that likewise relies on the parallel between Republican England and sinful Jerusalem. Citing the fall of the Temple as an example of how the flower of grace can wither, it notes that the loss of the covenant occurred during the Passover--the holiest time of the Jewish calendar--so that what should have been the time of sanctity became, instead, the hour of mourning and deprivation. The "Epistle" lingers on the horror of alienation with descriptions of the remaining Jews, scattered around the globe with no security of settled government, "no better then slaves wheresover they take footing" and occupying the lowest professions: "Tollmen" in "some inferiour places in the Custom-houses" or else "Spies and panders for intelligence" They are presented as both deformed in body and mean and twisted in soul and spirit. A stench emanates from them so foul and noxious that Howell sends up a hearty supplication that "England may not be troubled with that sent again." (29)
In contrast, The Destruction of Jerusalem amends the stock identification of Jew as bestial and dastardly in significant ways. Where both Stafford and Howell's "Epistle Dedicatory" dismiss the Jewish nation as a whole, Crowne's play distinguishes carefully between the Temple priests and the Pharisees, and reserves its ire for the latter. Indeed, The Destruction of Jerusalem largely resists glib identifications and parallels, apart from equating the Pharisees with the puritans. It is true that the audience is left in little doubt that Jerusalem is responsible for its own downfall but even as the drama celebrates Titus Vespasian, it resists the ready and uncomplicated vilification of the Jewish nation that permeates early modern discourse on the siege. Above all, Crowne's conscious employment of exile rhetoric, which deviates sharply from Stafford's and Howell's, is a fascinating study in the context of two recent historical events: the return of the Jews to England after centuries of exile, and the restoration of the court of Charles II. The uncomplicated equation of exile with just punishment becomes impossible in a text presented before a court that was recently exiled--a court which sought valiantly to reinscribe its own banishment as something other than divine retribution for sin. The remainder of this article will examine Crowne's focus on exile, and analyze his unique perspective on the destruction of Jerusalem and the consequent separation of Titus and Berenice in the context of the English court's toleration of the readmitted Jews, as well its attempts to the reconstitute its own checkered history of banishment and restitution.
In his essay "Reflections on Exile," Edward Said describes exile as the "unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home." Insisting that the "essential sadness can never be surmounted," Said, after the fashion of Shakespeare's Romeo, identifies exile as "like death, but without death's ultimate mercy." (30) Moses Finley agrees: banishment, especially in the ancient world, was deemed "the bitterest of fates. The exile was stripped of all ties that meant life itself; it made no difference in this regard whether one had been compelled to flee or gone from home in the search for land by free choice." (31) Exiles, to quote Said again, are "cut off from their roots, their land, their past." To counteract their debilitating loss, they seek new armies or states with which to identify. But "the crippling sorrow of estrangement" besets the exile even as he tries to accommodate to a new world with its new values. History, in Said's words, may contain "heroic, romantic, glorious, even triumphant episodes in an exile's life," but these achievements are "permanently undermined by the loss of something left behind forever." (32) The Destruction of Jerusalem anticipates twentieth-century philosophical and psychological assessments of exile in its presentation of the two original characters at the start of the play. Phraartes is a Parthian prince who loses his kingdom because of a conspiracy between the Romans and the Parthian rebels, while Monobazus is the brother of the neighboring Adiabenan king who unjustly accuses him of treason and turns on him in battle. Phraartes is distantly descended from Jewish kings but neither he nor Monobazus is a Jew, and both men enter the play as rootless aliens, ejected from their familiar worlds. When the city comes under siege, they pledge to defend it against Rome, a common enemy. The princes' generosity toward the Jews is partly motivated by their hatred for the Romans but is more directly the product of their desire for Jewish women: Phraartes for the High Priest's daughter, Clarona, and Monobazus for Berenice herself. Clarona eventually yields to Phraartes's passion, but their joy is short-lived, and she is killed in the attack upon the Temple spurred by the Pharisees in part 2. Monobazus, for his part, saves Berenice's life, but she does not repay him with love. Rather, upon discovering that it was he who killed her brother, Agrippa II, she proscribes him from her retinue. Both princes eventually die heroic deaths as they strive to defend a burning Jerusalem.
Although non-Jewish, Phraartes and Monobazus provide a powerful commentary on exile and dislocation that is pertinent both to the Jewish characters within the play as well as to Crowne's 1677 audience. Indeed, The Destruction of Jerusalem foregrounds the themes of exile and dispossession by opening the play with liminal characters Said would identify as occupants of the "perilous territory of not-belonging"'33 Phraartes is strikingly disconnected from the world of the Temple, its ritual and covenant. His reaction upon beholding the Temple in act 1, scene 1 of part 1 is utter bemusement:
Ha! At Devotion still? Can the tir'd Air Obtain no truce from Sacrifice and Prayer? They are importunate, with their great power They let him scarce enjoy one quiet hour; But ply him still with Sacrifice so fast, He's Cloy'd with new, e're he digest the last. (1.1.1)
Phraartes presents Temple ritual in this, the opening speech of the play, as a travesty which reduced God to a glutton. The image of Yahweh as the hapless recipient of "gay Splendid follies" (1.1.1) who in the onslaught of oblation craves a single moment of tranquility, attenuates the omnipotent God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Phraartes's criticism of Jewish religious praxis--although upheld by events in the play--establishes him as the outsider, an ironic bystander, even though he "springs / Of Jewish blood by a long Race of Kings" (1.2.1). When questioned about the gods of his people, Phraartes replies that there are none, "or if any, the Slaves worship me / Though now a Villain does prophane my Throne" (1.1.1). His atheism, which was strongly criticized after the play's premiere, suggests more than mere adherence to a dubious philosophy: it connotes his alienness. Derek Hughes implicitly recognizes this when he acknowledges that Crowne's "enduring literary image of mankind" in The Destruction of Jerusalem is that of a "gathering of strangers," which expresses "the incoherence of a world where creeds are determined by culture." (34) When Phraartes confesses aesthetic appreciation for the splendor of the Temple--"Heaven does in no place appear / Treated with such magnificence as here... Were I a God I would expect no less" (1.1.1)--his perspective is akin to that of a tourist before curiosities. "This is some charm'd and visionary Land" he mutters at the close of act 2 of the first part of The Destruction of Jerusalem, as he gazes out from the Temple precincts: "I scarce can trust the ground on which I stand ... Wonders, not Fishes spawn within their Seas / And all the winds that blow breathe Prophecies" (1.2.3). Phaartes's words betray his status as the outsider: Jerusalem, a place of augury and of portents, is undeniably alien to him. His language of marvel and wonder signifies a fundamentally discontinuous relationship with the people among whom he now resides.
Monobazus's dislocation is even more pronounced than Phraartes's. More than any other character it is he who embodies Melvin Seeman's categories of alienation: powerlessness, normlessness, isolation, cultural estrangement, social isolation, self-estrangement, and the overpowering feeling of personal worthlessness. (35) Monobazus is introduced in part 1 as "the brave unknown Prince" (1.2.1) and a slave to "wandring Fortunes" (1.2.2). His presence in Jerusalem is accidental: when betrayed by his brother, he goes "By my own doom to willing Banishment" till "Roving the world" he "hither chanc't to stray" (1.2.2). Berenice, with whom he falls instantly in love, offers a (tenuous) means to anchor in a new space, but the hopelessness of his desire only intensifies the illusiveness of his new life. Indeed, his desire for Berenice, like Phraartes's love for Clarona, may be read in the context of Said's theory of compensation for disorienting loss. The determination with which both men swiftly fall in love with Jewish women and ally themselves with the Jewish cause assumes a new meaning in light of their dislocation. It offers the prospect of reintegration and the hope of belonging once more. Monobazus's passion, however, is doomed to remain unrequited. As mentioned, not only is Berenice beloved of mighty Titus himself but, in a cruel twist of fate, it is Monobazus who kills her brother. In part 2 he saves Titus's life against the interest of the Jews--the people he had sworn to fight for--not because he is a turncoat but because he is discombobulated. Without his rightful place he vacillates in everything but his love for Berenice. She orients him such that he is prepared to do anything that might benefit her personally, even if it betrays her people and his new cause. As a consequence, Monobazus never fully integrates with the new community and remains marginalized, alien, and unnatural to both his lady's heart and her land: "My cruel Fate pursues me every where. / My name can like a Charm, uncalm the Sea / Where e're I wander, there no peace can be" (2.4.1).
The exile/belonging binary, foregrounded by the introduction of the foreign princes, is the first of many Crowne erects in this play. Others include love/conquest, duty/desire, public/private, and world-historical/domestic Though both princes are celebrated as saviors "drop't from Heaven" to aid Jerusalem, they remain baffled by their adopted country and are ever "Strangers to [its] Faith and Bloud" (2.2.1). Their history mirrors the perilous fate of a people struggling to accommodate banishment and relocation in a strange country. When, at the close of part 2, Phraartes and Monobazus decide to surrender their lives in Jerusalem's service, they do so because "to live and reign, we know not how nor where." Although each prince receives news of the recovery of his kingdom, the breach proves too wide to span. Restoration comes too late, and coupled with the loss of their mistresses (Clarona is killed in the siege, and Berenice spurns Monobazus as her brother's killer), produces a powerful sense of self-alienation. In the face of such loss it is entirely (if tragically) appropriate that the two make their final exit preparing to "Plunge into deeps and never be perplext / Be Kings this moment, and be nothing next" (2.5.1).
The movement from being to nothingness, which is the trajectory of the exile, is presented as the tragic lot of Jerusalem itself. Once the terrestrial mirror of God's heaven, the omphalos or navel of the world, the city becomes like the exiled creature that perishes when cut off from the familiar and nurturing. God's holy city is a "distrest Place, which Earth and Heav'n forsake" (1.1.1). As the High Priest, Mattias, bemoans in part 2, "Heav'n his presence has withdrawn from hence / He none of all his wonted ways replies, / By Angels, Visions, Dreams, or Prophesies; / From his own Temple he has ta'en his flight, / And given it to Owls, and Birds of night" (2.2.1). The Jews' impending eviction colors a curious conversation about death and the afterlife between Clarona, Matthias's daughter, and Phraartes, as they seek refuge in the Temple precincts. Clarona, distressed by her lover's unbelief, conjures a sobering image of herself separated eternally from Phraartes, "wandring on wild Natures Heath, / When we from these poor Cottages are thrown, / Having no dwellings and desiring none" (2.3.1). Clarona speaks of the spirit world that awaits those who shuffle off their mortal coil ("these poor Cottages"), but the metaphysical wilds of her limbo assume dire political significance in the context of the siege. Inevitably, the majestic Temple and its splendid altar will also give way to the rude dwellings of the exiled ("these poor Cottages") and her people, destitute and placeless, will, quite literally, wander on "wild Natures Heath" in search of new homes. In Clarona's speech future and present, eschatological and political, collapse to create a seemingly endless cycle of eviction.
In a poignant turn, it is the always-already displaced Phraartes who attempts to comfort his beloved by focusing on the here and now, on what they have rather than what they stand to lose:
But let us this fantastick talk give fire, These Fairy thoughts shall pinch thy soul no more; Let us not think of Lands remote, unknown, But eat the Fruits and Spices of our own. (2.3.1)
Of course, it is Phraartes, not Clarona, who is guilty of "fantastick talk." Phraartes, evermore "the Pagan King" and "Heathen," has no right to the possessive plural pronoun: his talk of the treasures of "our" land is as preposterous as the pretense that Clarona's fear are mere "Fairy thoughts." The "Lands remote, unknown" are not phantasmagoria but, rather, adumbration of alien shores and the only reality Clarona's people will know for centuries.
As if in recognition of this, the play produces paean upon paean to Jerusalem's fleeting splendor in the manner of the exile comparing present desolation with past glory. Not even Titus is impervious to the city's charm. He is introduced in part 2 in the unenviable position of a man divided, one who recognizes true grace but must be the architect of its destruction. "Yet I would fain this splendid City save," he confesses: "Me thinks it does a Noble Town appear; / Gods Might forsake their Heaven t'inhabit here" (2.1.1). But the play knows better: God does not forsake Heaven for Jerusalem; rather, it is Jerusalem which is abandoned and castout. As the dying Matthias reminds his fatally wounded daughter, "Our Temple, Nation, Glory, Faith are gone; / And what wou'dst thou do in the world alone?" (2.5.1)
The topos of exile dominates part 2 of The Destruction of Jerusalem, not only in descriptions of the beleaguered city and its desperate people, but notably to describe the doomed love of Titus and Berenice. Here Crowne intensifies his employment of a motif which Racine as well as Otway had used quite sparingly. Exile in Racine's Berenice is almost exclusively figurative: the sundering of lovers is equated with banishment. This amatory exile is the lot of King Antiochus of Commagene--a prototype of Monobazus--who languished "wandering in Caesaria" in self-exile after Berenice elected to follow Titus to Rome (1.4.233-34). (36) Otway's Titus and Berenice sustains the equation of spurned love with banishment in Antiochus's hopeless desire for Berenice--"Perhaps I'le ever banish her my heart. / She left me cruelly, and let her go" (2.1.254-55)--as well as Titus's projection of his lovelorn future self, "Mourning at court, and more exil'd than she / My Reign but a long Banishment shall be, / From all those Joys that wait on Pomp and Power" (2.1.120-22). Both Racine's and Otway's presentation of the heart's exile belong in the Petrarchan tradition as exemplified by Sir Thomas Wyatt's English translation of Petrarch's sonnet beginning "How oft have I, my dear and cruel foe." (37) Petrarch and Wyatt figure absence from the beloved as exile, thereby heightening "the tension between possession and loss, characteristic of desire." (38) The familiar Petrarchan conceit of the "banished" lover casts a shadow on both Racine's and Otway's dramatizations of the Titus and Berenice story in the late seventeenth century. Crowne, however, presents a more layered notion of exile in The Destruction of Jerusalem, which involves a complex interweaving of political and amatory banishment. While it may be argued that exile in Racine and Otway becomes a political reality when the doomed lovers part because of the state's decree, the rhetoric of exile employed by the male characters such as Titus and Antiochus is consistently metaphorical. It is only Corneille's Tite who nearly collapses the metaphor when he offers to step down as emperor to go into exile with Berenice, but he, too, prefers eventually the Petrarchan exile of the heart.
Crowne emphasizes the political reality of exile by merging the destruction of Jerusalem with the parting of Titus and Berenice. In the context of the very real banishment endured by Phraartes and Monobazus and the imminent dispersal of the Jewish people, the exile that Berenice, in particular, is fated to experience far exceeds the lovelorn repining of the stock Petrarchan lover. Though Berenice's gloomy promise to live out her exile in a cave gestures to the stylized lamentation of Elizabethan lyrics, Crowne's play presents a steady ironizing of the amatory exile trope by juxtaposing it with the actuality of destruction, dispersal, abandonment, and ejection on a national scale. Its trajectory marks a steady movement from essentially figurative to literally realized exile. Consider Berenice's casual equation of exile with a lover's neglect at the beginning of part 2 of 7he Destruction of Jerusalem:
A foolish dream tormented me tonight; What, matters not, now I have you in sight. But ha! I in your looks a sadness spy; You only to my words with sighs reply. Must all your thoughts to Fame devoted be? Can you afford no room in 'em for me? If present thus you banish me your mind, My Image sure does cold aceptance find In your retiring heart, when I am gone. (2.1.1)
Banishment is leached of its political essence to become merely figurative: "thus you banish me your mind." In act 3 Berenice again allegorizes exile when she insists that Titus's "neglect" is a fate "worse than death" (2.3.1). Titus himself consistently projects the Petrarchan lover even as he decrees that his mistress be banished from his retinue and from his lands. Too afraid to face Berenice directly, he presents himself via a messenger in act 4 as "an Imperial exile in my Throne" whose life without his beloved "will be in sorrow spent. / And all my Reign a glorious banishment." In a direct address to Berenice later in the same scene, Titus imagines his future self "Great as a God, as solitary too; / Ador'd, but banis'd from the sight of you" (2.4.1).
The exile rhetoric of Titus and Berenice becomes more resonant and substantive as the threat of real expulsion--Berenice from Rome and the Jews from Jerusalem--looms over the text. At the end of act 4 Titus, like Corneille's Tite, is overcome with grief at the prospect of impending loneliness and briefly contemplates defying the will of Rome by going into banishment with Berenice: "Without Renown or Empire I can live, / But not without the Queen; she, only she, / Fame, Empire, Glory, all things is to me" (2.4.1). Eventually, however, the quiddity of political exile proves overwhelming for Titus, and, in a fascinating exchange with Berenice in the play's final act, he brings together political and amatory exile, only to choose the sweet torments of the latter:
For Madam, say, wou'd not your Spirit loath An abject Prince, who should such meanness shew, He poorly should for Love to Exile go? Yet this inglorious Exile I must chuse, Or Throne, Life, Glory, You, and all must lose. (2.5.1)
Painful as the exile of the heart ("this inglorious Exile") may be, true abjection is the lot of the political exile. An absence, a void, synonymous with loss, the political exile stands to lose "Throne, Life, Glory, You, and all." It is as if Titus understands this distinction for the first time and, realizing it, he can do nothing but retreat into metaphor and prefer amatory banishment over the political. Berenice, for her part, reinforces the tribulations of the political exile in a scornful challenge to Titus's rhetoric of banishment:
You of your own distractions can complain; But mine, though greater, I lament in vain. Say all your grief is more than a pretence, You have Renown your loss to recompence, And by your own free choice your self undo; But I am into Exile sent by you. Despis'd, forlorn, disgrac'd, inglorious made, Nothing in my obscure and mournfull shade To comfort me, for all the wrongs I bear, But death,--whose aid I will not long defer. (2.5.1)
Berenice's powerful articulation of the perils of exile effectively undoes the oxymoronic "glorious banishment" that Titus envisions for himself. Contrary to his assertion, there are no "splendid steps to ruine" (2.4.1), but paths "obscure and mournfull." Amatory exile allows Titus to remain "great as a God," but Berenice's very literal banishment to an undistinguished, secluded place, alien and mean, "some Cave [where] this troubler of the world shall hide" (2.5.1), at once exposes and undermines her Roman lover's histrionics.
"Despis'd, forlorn, disgrac'd, inglorious made" (2.5.1), Berenice is reduced to the state of her fellow Jews on the brink of expulsion. Although she displays little affinity for them earlier, preferring Titus to Yahweh ("Titus is Heaven, and all the gods to me"), one may argue that she is most fully realized as a Jew in her fate as an exile. The sympathetic touch with which Crowne presents both her plight and that of her people is quite remarkable given the antagonism toward the Jews displayed by royalists like Stafford and Howell in the previous decade. This is not to say that the Jews are exonerated of any wrongdoing. The play repeatedly and vociferously emphasizes their responsibility in their own destruction and exile: their misinterpretation of signs and prophecies, their failure to amend their ways, their arrogant insistence that Jerusalem is "the world" and therefore impregnable. (39) At the same time, it empathizes with their fate and commends the heroism of Matthias and his Temple cohort and the "noble Jews" who "in Battel chose to fall, / And bravely with their Country perish'd" (2.5.1).
Why does Crowne's version of history deviate so strikingly from most previous accounts? One possible answer lies in the changing relations between the Jewish community and the court of Charles II. The turbulent years of the Interregnum had witnessed several radical groups celebrate the Jews as heirs to the covenant between God and Abraham, and the object of biblical prophecies about a restored Davidic kingdom in the land of Israel. Millenarian ideas about the approach of the messianic times demanded both the return of the Jews to Palestine to herald the Second Coming, as well as their readmission to England in order to secure a place among the blessed nations. (40) The apocalyptic year was identified by some as 1666, eleven years prior to the date Crowne produced The Destruction of Jerusalem. So dominant was this belief that Rabbi Menasseh Ben Israel in the Netherlands made it a prominent element of his plea to Oliver Cromwell and the Rump Parliament to readmit the Jews into England, stating that "the opinion of many Christians and mine do concur herein, that we both believe that the restoring time of our Nation into their native country is very near at hand." (41) Cromwell himself had no religious objections to the return of the Jews; rather, he emphasized the Christian obligation to convert them, reasoning that the Jews could not possibly receive the true Gospel if they were not allowed among people who professed it. But he faced tremendous opposition to their readmission in the new Republic. The sharp division between royalist and puritan factions on the question of Jewish resettlement in England resulted in generation en masse of polemical pamphlets, tracts and sermons in support of each position. Stafford's pro-royalist edition of Josippon controverts tracts such as Edward Nicholas's An Apology for the Honorable Nation of the Jews and All the Sons of Israel (1648), Thomas Barlow's Case of the Lawfulness of the Toleration of the Jews (1654), and William Prynne's hysterical A Short Demurrer to the Jews Long Discontinued Remitter into England (1656).
By the time Crowne wrote The Destruction of Jerusalem, two marked changes had occurred: the Jews had returned to England, and royalist attitudes toward them had altered during the last years of the Interregnum. When in exile, Charles II and his fellow royalists had sought to curry favor with the community of Jews in Amsterdam who disassociated themselves from the politics of Menasseh Ben Israel and his support for Cromwell. It was rumored that Charles hoped to broker a deal by which he would offer the Jewish community his protection in exchange for arms, ammunition, and/or money. As David S. Katz points out, there is no evidence that the Amsterdam Jews offered the exiled monarch anything more concrete than their felicitations, although one cannot entirely discount the possibility of some clandestine agreement. (42) All that is known for certain is that when petitions for the Jews' removal were brought before Charles almost immediately upon his accession, he let them die a bureaucratic (and entirely effective) death. Not only were the newly returned Jews and those who had lived incognito in England openly allowed to remain after centuries of exile, but they also enjoyed the protection of the monarch after 1664.
The clemency exhibited toward the Jews was consistent with Charles's first imperative, which was to prevent further fracture in the social order. When John Locke prepared the first draft of his "Letter Concerning Toleration" in 1667, he cited the treatment of the recently readmitted Jews as the yardstick for measuring amity and accord. (43) In this new dispensation, where tolerance and unity became watchwords, it is not surprising that Crowne's play should exhibit some leniency toward the Jews and their history. It is also equally fitting that the play's ire should be reserved for the characters whose envy corrodes communal stability.
Crowne's identification of the Pharisees under John and Eleazar with puritan zealots in part 1 is impossible to miss; indeed they are explicitly designated "zealots" and "Proud Separatists." (44) A "usurping Sect" whose power Matthias justly sought to curb, the Pharisees are motivated by "their own revengeful humour" (1.1.1). Sworn iconoclasts driven by petty hatred, they advocate vandalizing the Temple and its "brazen images" as an act of "Pure Reformation" mandated by heaven. (45) John, in particular, is presented as a hypocrite who "creeps into power by unperceiv'd degrees" a villain who employs "every art and subtlety." Like the serpent in Genesis, his is a "lurking Treachery that's hid / In humble fawnings, and in fierce pretence / To each punctilio of obedience" (1.1.1). The theme is continued in the epilogue to part 1 where Crowne identifies the "Fanaticks" of his own country as "Jews uncircumcis'd," descendants of the Pharisees: "Shewing their sires, the Pharisees, from whom / They and their cheats by long succession come."
In his study of The Destruction of Jerusalem and Judaeo-Christian apocalyptic literature, Rollins suggests that the equation of the puritans and the Pharisees offers "a commentary on contemporary events and, in particular, the coalition of interests that had, by the mid-1670s, allied itself against the Crown." The 1670s, running counter to the hopes and promises of the 1660s, had been beset by rumors of plots of every kind and natural phenomena such as eclipses of the sun and moon were translated as dire prognostications of the kind that purportedly beset Jerusalem before its fall. But while England's fears were largely imaginary at the time, the real danger, as Rollins observes, was "the threat of political chaos arising within the country itself." (46) It is quite natural that Crowne should perceive an affinity between the machinations of the Pharisees and that of the puritans who had allied themselves against Charles I, and who continued to thwart his son in the "rekindled political firestorm" of the 1670s. In opposition to the Pharisee-puritans, the High Priest Matthias is presented as a Laud-like figure and is even addressed as a "Romish priest" in a deliberate anachronism. The implication of the "Hero ruined by the sneaking Saint" in the epilogue to part 1 would have been impossible for Crowne's Restoration audience to miss. By raising the specter of past sectarian conflict--the very conflict which culminated in the beheading of the king and the exile of the royalists--The Destruction of Jerusalem employs historical events to produce a powerful commentary on contemporary political unrest.
Crowne's grandiose spectacle about Jerusalem weighs heavily in its presentation of the endemic Restoration nightmare of a nation divided. Through its equation of Pharisees with puritans, it warns about the perils of factionalism and bigotry in a way that would resonate powerfully with the Restoration court that had endured banishment. In this, The Destruction of Jerusalem deviates as well from archetypal Restoration heroic plays, which strove to reconstruct English society and politics along traditional lines in the aftermath of the crises of the 1640s and 1650s. (47) David Evans notes that "royalist writers such as John Dryden and William Davenant idealize attributes of a romanticized earlier time [in heroic plays], when longstanding, hierarchical social bonds and a carefully wrought mythology of political order ensured a stable nation." (48) Gerald MacLean agrees that Restoration culture of the 1660s mobilized "many different psychic, political, and poetical registers seeking to reinscribe monarchic ideology in ways that would make the king's return seem acceptable and unquestionable." (49) Notably, panegyricists turned the trauma of Charles's exile into an "opportunity for a solid education," which molded him into an effective ruler. Writers like Edmund Waller and Richard Flecknoe represented Charles's enforced banishment on the Continent as a "Grand Tour," which afforded him a splendid "education in foreign courts." (50) Continental exile was recuperated as a kind of fortunate fall, a time to both "regret and bless," to quote Dryden's Astraea Redux (1660). Dryden goes so far as to compare Charles's exile with the biblical David's salutary absence from Israel, when "Forc'd into exile from his rightful Throne / He made all Countries where he came his own. / And viewing Monarchs secret Arts of sway / A Royal Factor for their Kingdomes lay." Dryden thinks that, like "banish'd David," Charles upon his restoration will make "his proud Neighbours rue" their unfortunate alliances with his enemies. (51) Exile, in this eulogistic narrative, is a short-lived phase, a time for opening the mind and training the spirit, a rigorous finishing school for young royals.
Seventeen years later, Crowne's play, which reconfigures exile as fracture and loss, shows itself to be fundamentally at odds with this design. Rollins is right to note that The Destruction of Jerusalem deviates from other late seventeenth-century apocalyptic texts, which offer comfort to readers who take heed of their warnings. Crowne's narrative of loss, devastation, personal betrayal, expulsion, dislocation, and alienation holds out little hope. Rather, by reinforcing the congruity between the Pharisees and the Temple priests on the one hand, and puritans and royalists on the other, it exposes the deep-seated anxiety over sectarian conflict and exile at the heart of Restoration politics.
I am indebted to the NEH Summer Institute "Holy Land and Holy City in Classical Judaism, Christianity, and Islam" (2008), directed by Irven Resnick and Jeremy Cohen, for an invaluable seminar on Jerusalem, which provided the foundation for this project, and to Rider University for the 2008 Summer Fellowship, which enabled my research.
(1) John Crowne, The Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian in Two Parts: As It Is Acted at the Theatre Royal (London, 1677). All references to part 1 are to this edition and are cited parenthetically by part, act, and scene. All references to part 2 are to Five Heroic Plays, ed. Bonamy Dobree (Oxford U. Press, 1960), and are cited parenthetically by part, act, and scene.
(2) The Destruction of Jerusalem was offered initially to the Duke's Company, which was unwilling to produce it, no doubt because it had already produced Otway's Titus and Berenice. Crowne's defection to the King's Company while still under contract to the Duke's Company required the King's to buy Crowne's contract. It is recorded that Mr. Crowne "being under the like agreemt with the Dukes house writ a play call'd the Destruction of Jerusalem, and being forced by their refuseall of it to bring it to us, the said Company compell'd us after the studying of it, & a vast expence in Scenes and Cloathes to buy off their clayme, by paying all the pension he had received from them Amounting to one hundred and twelve pounds paid by the Kings Company, Besides neare forty pound he the said Mr. Crowne paid out of his owne Pocket." See James M. Osborn, John Dryden: Some Biographical Facts and Problems, rev. ed. (Gainesville: U. Press of Florida, 1965), 204-5.
(3) See Theophilus Cibber, The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland, 5 vols. (1753; repr. Teddington, England: Echo Library, 2007), 3:69.
(4) See Stuart Gillespie and David Hopkins, eds., The Oxford History of Literary Translation in English, vol. 3, 1660-1790 (Oxford U. Press, 2005), 321.
(5) John Downes, Roscius Anglicanus, or An Historical Review of the Stage, ed. Montague Summers (1929; rpr., New York: Benjamin Blom, 1968), 135.
(6) J. C. Ghosh, ed., The Works of Thomas Otway, 2 vols. (1932; repr., Oxford U. Press, 1968). All references are to this edition and are cited parenthetically by act, scene, and line number.
(7) The story of the siege of Jerusalem enjoyed numerous incarnations on stage during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Accounts exist of a rich little cluster of plays on Titus Vespasian, as well as of a cycle on the fall of Jerusalem performed in the provinces, most likely replacing the older Popish cycle of plays. Between 1592 and 1593, a play entitled Titus and Vespasian, now lost, was given ten recorded performances at the Rose Theatre. Records exist of another play titled Jerusalem, also from 1592 and lost. See G. Harold Metz, Shakespeare's Earliest Tragedy: Studies in "Titus Andronicus" (Madison, NJ: Farleigh Dickson U. Press, 1996), 163-65. Thomas Legge's (unstaged) drama Solymitana Clades, written sometime after 1579, deals with the Roman conquest of the city right up to the capture of Massada. Again, the MS was lost for centuries so it is unlikely that Crowne would have known anything about it. For an in-depth study of Legge's work see Paulina Kewes, "Jewish History and Christian Providence in Elizabethan England: The Contexts of Thomas Legge's Solymitana Clades (The Destruction of Jerusalem), c. 1579-88," Style: Essays on Renaissance and Restoration Literature and Culture in Memory of Harriet Hawkins, ed. Allen Michie and Eric Buckley (Newark: U. of Delaware Press, 2005), 228-66.
(8) As early as 1731, Saint-Evremond in a letter to the Duchess of Mazarin wondered that The Destruction of Jerusalem should have met with as "wild and unaccountable success as Mr. Dryden's Conquest of Granada": see The Works of the Earl of Rochester, Roscommon, and Dorset, 2 vols. (London, 1731), 2:218. A. T. Bartholomew, The Cambridge History of English Literature, vol. 8 (Cambridge U. Press, 1912), 190, writes, "it seems incredible that such a piece as The Destruction of Jerusalem could ever have gained the marked success it undoubtedly enjoyed." Arthur Franklin White, John Crowne: His Life and Dramatic Works (Cleveland: Western Reserve U. Press, 1922), 93, 180, deems the play's success "very remarkable," given how "uninteresting" it is: "the couplets are mediocre, the characterization is artificial, and the emotion is forced."
(9) The Dramatic Works of John Crowne, ed. J. Maidment and W. H. Logan, 4 vols. (Edinburgh, 1872-74), 2:219.
(10) White, John Crowne, 98.
(11) See Robert D. Hume, The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), 312-13; Don-John Dugas, "Elkanah Settle, John Crowne, and Nahum Tate," A Companion to Restoration Drama, ed. Susan J. Owen (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), 387; Richard Capwell, A Biographical and Critical Study of John Crowne (PhD diss., Duke University, 1964), 221.
(12) John B. Rollins, "Judaeo-Christian Apocalyptic Literature and John Crowne's The Destruction of Jerusalem," Comparative Drama 35 (2001): 209. For a brief reading of Crowne's depiction of apocalypse as the estrangement between humanity and God, and the relevance of this episode of Jewish history to contemporary English politics, see also Derek Hughes, English Drama 1660-1700 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 240-42.
(13) Gedaliah Alon, The Jews in Their Land in the Talmudic Age, trans. Gershon Levi, 2 vols. (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1980), 1:55.
(14) See James Carroll, Constantine's Sword: The Church and the Jews: A History (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2001), 108.
(15) Robert L. Wilken, The Land Called Holy: Palestine in Christian History and Thought (Yale U. Press, 1992), 43.
(16) Stephen K. Wright, The Vengeance of Our Lord: Medieval Dramatizations of the Destruction of Jerusalem (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1989), 6.
(17) See Nicholas R. Moschovakis, '"Irreligious Piety' and Christian History: Persecution as Pagan Anachronism in 'Titus Andronicus,'" Shakespeare Quarterly 53 (2002): 460-86.
(18) Eusebius, The Auncient Ecclesiasticall Histories of the First Six Hundred Years After Christ, trans. Meredith Hanmer (London, 1577), 44.
(19) See Luke 19:41-44: "And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over it ..."
(20) Eusebius, Ecclesiasticall Histories, 41.
(21) See Chaim Milikowsky, "Notions of Exile, Subjugation, and Return in Rabbinic Literature" Exile: Old Testament, Jewish, and Christian Conceptions, ed. James M. Scott (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 265-96. Milikowsky's claim that in Tannaitic sources of the second and third centuries CE the term "exile" connoted political subjugation rather than expulsion from the land is consistent with Israel J. Yuval's careful analysis of the myth of Jewish exile post-Second Temple in both Jewish and Christian iterations, "The Myth of the Jewish Exile from the Land of Israel: A Demonstration of Irenic Scholarship," Common Knowledge 12 (2006): 16-33. For the role of exile in the Jewish historical consciousness see also Yitzhak F. Baer, Galut, trans. Robert Warshow (New York: Schocken, 1947).
(22) The different Biblical and Talmudic texts as well as midrashim which associate the destruction of the House, the burning of the Temple, and exile of the people usually refer to the First Temple rather than the Second. For example, the Book of Esther (3:8) describes the Jews as "a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the people in all the provinces of thy [the Persian emperor's] kingdom." Yuval, "Myth of the Jewish Exile," 21, notes that in Tannaitic and early Amoraic sources, Rome is accused only of destroying the Temple, not of exiling the people from their land.
(23) Yuval, "Myth of the Jewish Exile," 23.
(24) For the history of Josippon see Jacob Reiner, "The English Yosippon," Jewish Quarterly Review 58 (1967): 126-42; David S. Katz, Philo-Semitism and the Readmission of the Jews to England, 1603-1655 (Oxford U. Press, 1982); Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata, eds., Josephus, The Bible and History (Leiden: Brill, 1989); William Horbury, W. D. Davie, and John Sturdy, eds., The Cambridge History of Judaism: The Early Roman Period, vol. 3 (Cambridge U. Press, 1989); Louis H. Feldman, Studies in Hellenistic Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 1996); John Toland, Reasons for Naturalizing the Jews in Great Britain and Ireland (London, 1714); I. M. Green, Print and Protestantism in Early Modern England (Oxford U. Press, 2000).
(25) Eusebius's History presented the historical Titus as a virtuous pagan, "pious" in the Christian sense of the word. An early Tudor book, printed twice by Wynkyn de Worde, made the historical general a Christian, in accordance with a manifestly fictional passage from Jacobus de Voragine's Golden Legend. See The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. William Granger Ryan, 2 vols. (Princeton U. Press, 1993), 1:269-73. A similar fable is perpetrated in the medieval Siege of Jerusalem which depicted Vespasian and his two sons as Christian converts who vow to besiege Jerusalem in an act of vengeance upon the Jews who killed their lord. For more on Titus as Christian hero in the medieval Siege, see Suzanne M. Yeager, "The Siege of Jerusalem and Biblical Exegesis: Writing about Romans in Fourteenth-Century England," Chaucer Review 39 (2004): 70-102.
(26) See Kewes, "Jewish History," 231-32.
(27) Patrick Collinson, "Biblical Rhetoric: The English Nation and National Sentiment in the Prophetic Mode," Religion and Culture in Renaissance England, ed. Claire McEachern and Deborah Shuger (Cambridge U. Press, 1997), 24.
(28) Ronald B. McKerrow, ed., The Works of Thomas Nashe, 5 vols. (1904; repr., New York: Barnes and Noble, 1966), 2:15, 34, 59.
(29) Flavius Josephus, The Wonderful and Most Deplorable History of the Latter Times of the Jews with the Destruction of the City of Jerusalem ... moreover, there is a parallel of the late times, and crimes in London, with those in Jerusalem (London, 1662), A2v, A2r-A3v, A4r, B3v.
(30) Edward W. Said, Reflections on Exile and Other Essays (Harvard U. Press, 2001), 173, 174.
(31) M. I. Finley, The World of Odysseus (1954; rpr., New York: NYRB, 2002), 49.
(32) Said, Reflections on Exile, 177, 173.
(33) Said, Reflections on Exile, 177.
(34) Hughes, English Drama, 242.
(35) Melvin Seeman, "On the Meaning of Alienation," American Sociological Review 24 (1959): 783-91.
(36) The study of Racine's Berenice by Michele Longino, Orientalism in French Classical Drama (Cambridge U. Press, 2002), discerns in Antiochus's lovesickness an essentializing discourse that Eastern men are melancholic, aimless, defeated, and emasculated. In the same way, Berenice's lament in 4.1.955-56 sums up the directionless frenzy of the Orient as a whole: "I'm agitated, I run, languishing, worn out / Strength abandons me, and rest kills me." Here, she comes close to echoing the lamentations of the exiled Antiochus, whose restless activity Longino pronounces "worthless" since "no value" can be "assigned to or gleaned" from it (175).
(37) See Joost Daalder, ed., Sir Thomas Wyatt: Collected Poems (Oxford U. Press, 1975).
(38) See Jane Kingsley-Smith, "That One Word 'Banished': Linguistic Crisis in Romeo and Juliet," Shakespeare's Drama of Exile (Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 31-55.
(39) See Rollins, "Judaeo-Christian Apocalyptic Literature," 209-24.
(40) See also Cecil Roth, "The Resettlement of the Jews in England in 1656," Three Centuries of Anglo-Jewish History, ed. V. D. Lipman (London: Jewish Historical Society, 1961); Katz, Philo-Semitism and the Readmission; Richard H. Popkin, ed., Millenarianism and Messianism in English Literature and Thought, 1650-1800 (Leiden: Brill, 1988); James Shapiro, Shakespeare and the Jews (Columbia U. Press, 1996); D. R. Woolf, Reading History in Early Modern England (Cambridge U. Press, 2000).
(41) Menasseh Ben Israel, "The Humble Addresses of Menasseh Ben Israel, a Divine, and Doctor of Physic, in Behalf of the Jewish Nation," Female and Male Voices in Early Modern England: An Anthology of Renaissance Writing, ed. Betty S. Travitsky and Anne Lake Prescott (Columbia U. Press, 2000), 199.
(42) David S. Katz, The Jews in the History of England, 1485-1850 (Oxford U. Press, 1994), 137.
(43) For a discussion of tolerance toward Jews in early modern England see John Marshall, John Locke, Toleration and Early Enlightenment Culture (Cambridge U. Press, 2006); Alan Levine, Early Modern Skepticism and the Origins of Toleration (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 1996); Cary J. Nederman and John Christian Laursen, eds., Difference and Dissent: Theories of Tolerance in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 1996).
(44) See Harold Love, "Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama," The Cambridge History of English Literature, 1660-1780, ed. John J. Richetti (Cambridge U. Press, 2005), 117. See also Hughes, English Drama, 240-41.
(45) Crowne, who identifies "Beauty" as "the fairest visible Image of Divinity in the world" and who sees fit to honor his patroness, the Duchess of Portsmouth, by imagining her image fixed "at this Jewish Temple Gate, to render the building sacred" ("Epistle Dedicatory"), has little sympathy for the icon-smashing fervor displayed by John and the other rebels.
(46) Rollins, "Judaeo-Christian Apocalyptic Literature," 211, 215.
(47) For the role of heroic drama in reconstructing royalist values, see J. Douglas Canfield, "The Significance of the Restoration Rhymed Heroic Play," ECS 13 (1979): 49-62, and David R. Evans, "Private Greatness': The Feminine Ideal in Dryden's Early Heroic Drama," Restoration 16 (1992): 2-19.
(48) David R. Evans, "Charles II's 'Grand Tour': Restoration Panegyric and the Rhetoric of Travel Literature," PQ 72 (1993): 53-71.
(49) Gerald MacLean, Time's Witness: Historical Representation in English Poetry, 1603-1660 (Madison: U. of Wisconsin Press, 1990), 259.
(50) Richard Flecknoe, Pourtrait of His Majesty, Made a Little before His Happy Restauration (London, 1660), 24.
(51) The Works of John Dryden, 20 vols., ed. Edward Niles Hooker, H. T. Swedenberg Jr., Maximillian E. Novak, Alan Roper, et al. (U. of California Press, 1956-2000), 1: 72, 75-79, 81.
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