The Devil Is an Ass: Ben Jonson and Thomas Middleton’s Satirical Masterclass on Folly
In the rich tapestry of Jacobean drama, where grand tragedies and sweeping romances often stole the spotlight, there exists a brilliant, biting comedy that holds up a distorted mirror to human greed and gullibility. Day to day, premiered in 1616, the same year of Ben Jonson’s monumental publication of his Workes, The Devil Is an Ass is a collaboration between Jonson and Thomas Middleton that stands as a supreme example of city comedy. This play is not merely an entertaining farce; it is a sharp, unflinching satire that dissects the foolishness of its London characters with a wit that remains startlingly modern. At its core, the play explores the timeless theme of how easily people are deceived by appearances and their own self-serving desires, a concept so potent that it could easily be titled "The Devil is a Fool" or even "The Devil is Us Surprisingly effective..
The plot, a whirlwind of deception and absurdity, is deceptively simple. He is a man consumed by avarice and a desperate desire to appear more important and sophisticated than he truly is. On top of that, a wealthy but dim-witted citizen, Fitzdottrel, is the central figure of the satire. His latest scheme involves marrying his daughter, Wittipol, to a wealthy suitor, but his true passion lies in his new house, which he insists is haunted by a devil. The story begins in the bustling, morally ambiguous world of early 17th-century London. This "devil" is, of course, not a supernatural entity but a brilliantly disguised accomplice named Pug, a cunning and morally flexible gentleman played by an actor of the King’s Men.
The brilliance of the play lies in this central premise. He sees humanity’s susceptibility to deception as a more captivating spectacle. Thus, the stage is set for a series of escalating deceptions. Fitzdottrel, believing he has tamed a powerful demon, uses his supposed control over the "devil" to intimidate his neighbors, extract money from gullible fools, and generally inflate his own ego. Pug, instructed by a mischievous devil (who is, in fact, a real supernatural being bored with Hell and seeking amusement on Earth), agrees to play the role. The devil’s motivation is key: he finds the prospect of corrupting a human soul through the guise of a simple prank more entertaining than the eternal punishments of Hell. The audience is in on the joke, creating a dramatic irony that fuels the comedy and the satire.
This is where a lot of people lose the thread.
The characters in The Devil Is an Ass are not complex psychological portraits but rather vivid caricatures, each representing a specific human failing. On the flip side, fitzdottrel embodies pure, unadulterated folly. His gullibility is so profound that he cannot see the most obvious signs of the trickery being played upon him. Also, he is the perfect mark, a man whose greed blinds him to common sense. In contrast, Pug is the embodiment of cynical worldliness. Now, he is charming, articulate, and entirely devoid of scruples. Which means he represents the "devil" in all of us—the part that knows the rules but chooses to exploit them for personal gain. His dialogue with the audience and with the actual devil is where much of the play's intellectual humor resides, as he complains about the tediousness of his role and the poor quality of the souls he is meant to corrupt Nothing fancy..
Other characters, such as the young lovers Wittipol and her suitor, provide a romantic subplot that serves as a foil to the main plot’s cynicism. Their genuine affection and simple honesty highlight the corrupt and transactional nature of the adult world around them. Meanwhile, figures like the greedy usurer and the pompous would-be poet are satirized in brief, sharp scenes that paint a comprehensive picture of London’s social ills. The play’s structure is fast-paced and episodic, moving from one scene of deception to the next, each one revealing a new layer of foolishness.
What makes The Devil Is an Ass a lasting work of art is its profound skepticism. The collaboration between Jonson, known for his classical rigor and biting satire, and Middleton, a master of cynical city comedy, results in a play that is both intellectually rigorous and emotionally detached. Here's the thing — the tone is not one of moral outrage but of cool, amused observation. The audience is not meant to feel sympathy for the characters but to laugh at their absurdity and, more importantly, to recognize a part of themselves in the satire. The play asks a disturbing question: if a devil were to walk among us, would he need to use horns and pitchforks, or would he simply need to put on a fine suit and offer people what they most desire?
The historical context of 1616 London is crucial. In real terms, this was a period of rapid commercial growth, increasing wealth, and shifting social values. Also, the old feudal order was giving way to a new merchant capitalism, bringing with it new forms of ambition and new avenues for folly. The play captures this moment perfectly. The obsession with property, the worship of money, the pretentiousness of the upwardly mobile—all of these are targets for Jonson and Middleton’s sharp pens. The play is a snapshot of a society in the throes of transformation, where traditional morality seemed increasingly irrelevant to the pursuit of profit.
From a theatrical perspective, the play is a masterclass in stagecraft. Worth adding: the use of disguise, the layered plotting, and the breaking of the fourth wall (with characters speaking directly to the audience) are all techniques that heighten the sense of complicity. This immersive quality makes the satire more effective. We are not passive observers; we are accomplices in the deception, laughing along with Pug and the devil at the expense of Fitzdottrel. It’s a reminder that theater, at its best, is a shared experience between the performers and the audience, and in this case, a shared conspiracy against folly That's the part that actually makes a difference..
All in all, The Devil Is an Ass is far more than a historical curiosity. It is a vibrant, vicious, and incredibly funny play that holds up a mirror to a timeless aspect of human nature. Because of that, its critique of greed, vanity, and gullibility is as relevant today as it was over 400 years ago. The play’s title itself is a provocation. Worth adding: it suggests that the true evil is not in some external, horned figure, but in the foolishness that resides within us all—the ass-like qualities we possess that make us easy prey for our own desires and the deceivers who exploit them. To watch or read this play is to be reminded that the devil, as the play argues, is not an external force but an internal one, and that the greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist—or, in this case, that he was just a simple prankster in a fine coat That's the part that actually makes a difference. Practical, not theoretical..
Modern audiences continue to find resonance in Middleton and Jonson’s sharp wit, and the play has been revived countless times, from Restoration stagings that emphasized its satirical punch to twentieth‑century revivals that highlighted its psychological depth. More recently, experimental theater groups have reimagined the devil as a corporate executive, using the original text as a scaffold for contemporary commentary on tech monopolies and influencer culture. Even so, in the 1970s, a interesting production at the Royal Shakespeare Company stripped the set to a minimalist platform, allowing the dialogue to drive home the timeless critique of consumer culture. These adaptations demonstrate that the play’s core insight—that greed and vanity are the true demons—remains a fertile ground for artistic exploration across eras.
Scholars have also revisited the work through the lenses of gender and class, noting how Pug’s disguise as a woman underscores the play’s commentary on the fluidity of identity in a society where appearance can be bought. Feminist readings point to the way the devil’s manipulation of Fitzdottrel’s desire for social ascent exposes the gendered expectations of the period, while Marxist analyses focus on the stark contrast between the old aristocracy’s fading power and the rising bourgeois obsession with property. By situating the play within these broader critical frameworks, contemporary readers gain a richer understanding of how Middleton and Jonson anticipated the cultural shifts that still shape our world.
For today’s theater‑goers and readers, The Devil Is an Ass serves as both a historical artifact and a living mirror. So its sharp satire invites us to examine our own complicity in the systems of deception we tolerate—whether through unchecked capitalism, the pursuit of status, or the willingness to be fooled by charismatic figures cloaked in respectability. The play’s enduring humor lies in its ability to make us laugh while confronting uncomfortable truths, a balance that ensures its relevance for generations to come.
In sum, the play’s brilliance lies in its unapologetic blend of wit, social critique, and theatrical innovation. By exposing the devil as an internal folly rather than an external monster, Middleton and Jonson crafted a work that not only entertained Elizabethan audiences but also challenges us, centuries later, to recognize and resist the ass‑like tendencies within ourselves. Whether you encounter it on a modern stage, in a scholarly edition, or simply between the pages of a well‑annotated text, The Devil Is an Ass remains a potent reminder that the most formidable adversary we face is the part of ourselves that can be so easily deceived.
