The Comedy of Errors Rules and Order

The play commences with a display of the harshness of law and order. In complete contrast to the order and clarity of this law-bound introduction, the action in the play that follows is rather farcical. But actually, the decree that Syracusian merchants are condemned to death is a little arbitrary (or at least as arbitrary as the Syracusian Duke demanding the death of Ephesian merchants). This kind of whimsy is inherent in the law in Ephesus, so we glimpse the fact that law is not the be-all and end-all in the play. Some greater force than law and order ultimately will prevail.

The Duke seems to admit that justice and the law are not exactly commensurate. It’s clear that what’s right in Egeon’s situation is not following the law, but the law is what the Duke will choose anyway, regardless of whether it’s just. Why does he do that?

This is pretty ridiculous – any just law shouldn’t have a price tag to out-buy it. It’s clear that the law isn’t inherently just – it might have more to do with keeping order (or retaliating against Syracuse) than any real moral principle.

Luce, the kitchen maid, appeals to law and order (in the form of the town stocks). She thinks law and order will solve whatever trouble is currently being stirred up by the seemingly crazy men outside. Again, it’s evidence that law and order fall short of being able to deliver justice and right all wrongs.

E. Antipholus, though he’s in a rage, submits to the law. Even though justice is not being served by the law, Angelo’s invocation of law and order is strong enough to pull E. Antipholus into line. E. Antipholus also seems OK submitting to the officer. This is probably because E. Antipholus is confident that he can use the channels of the law (like bail) to get what he sees is justice. It’s clear that law in Ephesus doesn’t serve justice – it can be manipulated to other ends.

Though all evidence points to the incompetence and inefficacy of Ephesian law, the women turn to it to get E. Antipholus back. The law (and the Duke’s good sense) is once again held up as the factor that might lead to the play’s ultimate resolution.

The Duke, who is supposed to be the arbiter of law and order, and able to make sense out of confusion, declares that this situation is all madness. He alludes to the sorceress Circe of The Odyssey who transforms all the men to pigs by making them drink from her cup. "Their [the pig men’s] minds were unchanged, but their body’s, voices and heads were all swinish" (The Odyssey, Book X). All who drink Circe’s potion think everyone else is crazy, but that they themselves are perfectly sane. That does sound like the situation afoot in Ephesus. Even the law can’t sort this one out. It seems all is lost.

Once again, law and order fail to save the day. The Duke, who should be the most sensible man in the city, decides that the root of the problem resides in the supernatural. He has no explanation to order the strange and sudden appearance of two sets of twins, and so he defaults into the same explanation of the supernatural everyone else used for the whole play. The Duke decides one man is "genius to the other," meaning something of an attendant spirit that was identical to a person, and believed to follow that person around though their life. No other explanation seems to fit their notion of order in Ephesus.