Play of the Month: As You Like It

I just completed studying As You Like It, my eighth Shakespeare play. The play is categorized as a pastoral comedy, a genre of art depicting an idealized form of the shepherd's lifestyle – herding livestock around open areas of land according to the seasons and the changing availability of water and pasture.  This is the first time I have experienced the genre in any form of art.

The play reportedly premiered in 1599 to mixed receptions, with Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw famously criticizing that it lacked the high artistry of which Shakespeare was capable, and that Shakespeare wrote the play as a mere crowdpleaser. On the other hand, arguably the most quoted phrase, "All the world's a stage," is embedded in the play, which alone should make this play immortal.

The play follows its heroine Rosalind as she flees persecution in her uncle's court, accompanied by her cousin Celia to find safety and, eventually, love, in the Forest of Arden, the major scene where she encounters shepherds and shepherdesses, and hence the genre. Interestingly, the forest is said to be close to Shakespeare’s birthplace, Stratford-upon-Avon.

The work explores many themes, most notably "deception, disguise and gender" '—I had to read it carefully to avoid being deceived myself. Another theme it explores is "romantic love". To this end,  it mocks traditional dramatizations of love, portraying it as a source of folly, servitude, and sorrow in its victims, as demonstrated by characters including the hero Orlando, the shepherd Silvius, the shepherdess Phebe, and even the heroine and protagonist -- Rosalind herself.  However, I was absolutely amazed by its plotting, particularly the invention of Ganymede, whose name Rosalind takes on as part of her disguise. Ganymede was a divine Trojan hero, described in The Iliad by Homer as the most beautiful mortal in history. In one myth, he was abducted by Zeus because of his beauty.

The third theme, which I find both amusing and intriguing, is "fools vs. foolishness". The distinction between fools and foolishness is most clearly illustrated in the words of Touchstone, the court fool accompanying Celia and Rosalind into the Forest of Arden. In the play, he says, “the more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly,” and, “The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” In the former, he reflects on the fool’s lack of authority; in the latter, he suggests that those who call themselves fools may well be wiser than those who call themselves wise. 

At the beginning, I was impressed by Orlando's narrative, which vividly depicted his miserable situation in modern English as follows:

"As I remember it, Adam, in my father's will I was left only a thousand crowns. And, as you say, my father gave my older brother Oliver the responsibility of taking care of me. And that is the source of my sadness. My other brother Jacques is away at school, and they say that he is profiting greatly from his education. But for my part, my brother insists that I stay here at home like a peasant. He is supposed to maintain me like a gentleman, but instead he treats me like an ox in a stall. My brother's horses are treated better than I am—at least they get training and riders along with their food. But I, his brother, get nothing from him but food and shelter. So the only thing I owe him like his livestock on their manure piles—is my physical growth. Besides this "nothing" that he so plentifully gives me, his constant frowning at me also takes from me those  things that nature gave to me. He makes me eat with his servants, refuses to call me his brother, and denies me the education that I deserve. Adam, this is what grieves me. And lately I have felt my father's independent spirit—which I think is a part of me—beginning to rebel against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though I don't know how to improve my situation.

Next, I was fascinated by the sisterly love Celia, the daughter of Duke Frederick, shows for her cousin Rosalind, consistently demonstrating selfless generosity. She promises that Rosalind can inherit her father’s throne when Duke Frederick dies. Celia then risks her own safety and family loyalty by accompanying Rosalind into the Forest of Arden after Rosalind is banished. From this point on, Celia disguises herself as Aliena, while Rosalind disguises herself as the boy Ganymede, taking advantage of her height.

Life in the Forest of Arden is best described by Duke Senior, father of Rosalind and the rightful duke of the land, before being banished by his brother, now Duke Frederick. Here's what he says in modern English:

"Now, my companions and brothers in exile, hasn't our long experience shown this simple life to be sweeter than one of superficial luxury? Aren't these woods less dangerous than the jealousies and treachery of the court? Out here we don't feel the penalty resulting from Adam's sin—the changing seasons. When the icy fangs of the scolding winter wind bite and blow upon my body—even though I shiver with cold—I smile and say to myself: "The wind isn't flattering me. It is like a counselor who makes me feel what I truly am." Adversity has sweet benefits, just like the ugly, venomous toad who wears a precious jewel in his forehead. And in this new life, far away from society, we can hear the voices of the trees, read books in the running brooks, hear sermons in the stones, and find the good in everything."

Then follows the immortal phrase "All the world's a stage" and the subsequent reflection on the Seven Stages of Man by Jacques, the melancholy lord, presented in modern English below:

"The whole world is a stage, and all the men and women merely actors. They have their exits and their entrances, and in his lifetime one man plays many parts, with the ages of his life in seven acts. In the first act he is the infant, crying and puking in the nurse's arms. Then he plays the whining schoolboy with his book bag and bright youthful face, creeping like a snail unwillingly to school. And then he is the lover, sighing like a furnace and writing sad songs about his beloved's eyebrows. Then he is a soldier, full of foreign curses and bearded like a leopard, quick to fight and jealously responding to any slight to his honor, seeking fleeting fame and reputation even if it means putting himself in front of the cannon's mouth. Then he plays the judge, with a nice round belly lined with the bribes he's taken, with stern eyes and a beard cut to a respectable shape, full of wise sayings and everyday examples of his points; and in this way he plays his part. In the sixth act he shifts into the skinny, ridiculous old man, wearing slippers on his feet, glasses on his nose, and a money bag at his side. The stockings he has saved since his youth are now way too wide for his shriveled legs, and his big manly voice becomes like a child's voice, squeaking and whistling. In the last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful story, the man enters his second childhood and goes mentally blank—without teeth, without eyes, without taste, without everything."

I love the ingenious plot devised by Rosalind (as Ganymede), in which she teaches Orlando the madness of love, promises to cure him, and has him unknowingly woo her. Here is their dialogue in modern English:

"Rosalind: Love is merely insanity, I tell you. And lovers deserve the madhouse just like insane people do. The only reason they don't get the punishment and cure of the madhouse is that this form of insanity is so common that all the doctors have it too. But I claim that it can be cured with counseling."

"Orlando: Have you ever cured anyone in this way?"

"Rosalind: Yes, one, and here's how I did it: I had him imagine me as the woman he loved, and I made him woo me every day. When he did I—being but a fickle youth—would mope; act effeminate; shift my moods; long for him; like him; act proud and distant; be irrational; be foolishly mocking; shallow; inconstant; full of tears; full of smiles; be passionate about everything, and then passionate about nothing—as most young boys and women naturally act. I would like him one minute and hate him the next; accompany him and then send him away; cry for him and then spit at him, until finally I drove out the whim of love and replaced it with the truer state of anger. My suitor then turned away from the flow of life, abandoning the world and hiding himself away as a monk. And so I cured him, and in this way I will cure you too—washing your liver as clean as a healthy sheep's heart, until there isn't a single spot of love left in it."

I'm equally amazed by the lengthy, contradictory statement made by Phoebe, the shepherdess who falls in love with Rosalind (as Ganymede) at first sight. It reflects the typical foolishness and irrationality of someone who's madly in love, in the modern English version below:

"Don't start thinking that I love him, just because I'm asking about him. He is just an irritating boy—though he speaks well—but what do I care about words? Though words are good when the man speaking them is pleasant to hear. He is a fine youth—not very fine—but he's very proud—and yet his pride suits him well. He'll grow up to be a proper man. The best part about him is his complexion; as fast as his words offend me, his appearance heals their wounds. He is not very tall—but for his age he's tall. His legs are only so-so—and yet they're nice. He had a pretty redness in his lips, a little darker and more passionate than the red that was in his cheeks; one was pure red and the other mingled pink and white. Silvius, there are some women who would have almost fallen in love with him after inspecting all his parts like I have. But for my part I neither love him nor hate him. Although I have better reason to hate him than to love him. What right did he have to scold me? He said my eyes were black and my hair was black and, now that I remember it, he scorned me too. I'm shocked that I didn't answer him back in the same way. But that's all right: forgetting to assert my rights doesn't mean they don't exist. I'll write him a very taunting letter, and you will deliver it. Will you, Silvius?"

In response to a question from Phoebe, whom he has loved unrequitedly, Silvius describes what love is like based on his experience, as shown in modern English below:

"It is to be filled with sighs and tears, as I am for Phoebe."

"It is to be filled with faithfulness and servitude, as I am for Phoebe."

"It is to be filled with fantasy; filled with passion and wishes; with adoration, duty, and devotion; humility, patience, and impatience; filled with purity, suffering, and obedience—just as I am for Phoebe."

As the play nears its conclusion, Touchstone comments on the seven levels of quarrelling, which correspond to, though are not as famous as, the Seven Stages of Man earlier in the play, as presented in modern English below:

'Oh sir, we quarrel according to the rulebooks, just as you have rulebooks for good manners. I'll name the degrees again: the first is "the courteous retort;" the second is "the moderate quip;" the third is "the rude reply;" the fourth is "the brave retort;" the fifth is "the quarrelsome contradiction;" the sixth is "the indirect lie;" and the seventh is "the direct lie." But you can avoid all of these stages, even the seventh, by using an "if" properly. I once heard of a quarrel that even seven judges couldn't settle. But when the two parties met on their own, one used an "if" and said" "If you said this, then I must have said that." And they shook hands and parted like brothers. "If" is the only peacemaker; there is much virtue in an "if."'

Finally, all main characters of the play assemble. Rosalind and Celia reveal their true identities and present themselves to their lovers. The gender confusion disappears as Hymen, the god of marriage, appears to unite the four couples in matrimony: Oliver and Celia, Touchstone and Audrey, Silvius and Phoebe, and Orlando and Rosalind—a happier-than-true ending, fitting the title As You Like It.