The Gardener’s Dog has often been called Shakespearean in the style and manner of its seriocomic treatment of love. Indeed, this play is, perhaps, Lope de Vega Carpio’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (pr. c. 1595-1596, pb. 1600). A dreamlike quality suffuses the action, as love turns into hate and back into love, affection turns to scorn, indifference turns to desire, sweet heroines turn vindictive, courtly lovers turn would-be murderers, lovers change partners, and confusion reigns supreme. Both audience and characters wonder what will happen next.
If, however, the treatment of love is Shakespearean, the treatment of illusion versus reality is closer to Luigi Pirandello. The play’s conclusion hints that perhaps Teodoro becomes an actual count because everyone believes him to be one. The situation is an interesting reversal from that in Pirandello’s Enrico IV (1922; Henry IV, 1923), where a character in his madness believes he is a king, while everyone around him, knowing him for what he really is, simply humors him. In Vega Carpio’s play, only Teodoro, Tristan, and Diana know the facts of the matter, while the rest of the world believes it is paying court to a true count. The practical result in both cases is the same, however, whereby Vega Carpio may perhaps be suggesting that nobility is nothing more than a social convention and has no other basis than that people agree to honor its credentials, no matter how spurious.
This proposition may be self-evident to later ages, but in early seventeenth century Spain it was an assumption that struck at the heart of the social order, though admittedly, in not quite so revolutionary a manner as Vega Carpio’s Fuenteovejuna(written 1611-1618, published 1619; The Sheep-Well, 1936). In fact, Teodoro’s instant pedigree may have been less a social statement than simply a convenient dramatic device to bring Diana, the countess of Belflor, and her secretary together at last. For centuries, writers of comedy and romance have solved the problem of love between highborn and lowborn by revealing that the lowborn hero or heroine is actually highborn (having been, like the baby in Tristan’s story, stolen in childhood by pirates, or else inadvertently mixed up with another baby). Vega Carpio’s dramatic resolution is an interesting variation of this theme; nevertheless, he seems to accept the underlying premise that highborn and lowborn must not marry in defiance of convention.
For all the intriguing questions of reality and appearance in the play, the main focus is on the nature of love, on just what this universal yet incomprehensible phenomenon is. In the first act, Marcella sighs that love causes people to mount as if to heaven; in the second, she calls love “god of envy, god of hate!” As the play progresses, it dramatizes the often-asked questions as to how love originates, how it is affected by jealousy, how it causes people to behave, how it is affected by absence, what happens when it is...
(The entire section is 1240 words.)