Anti-conquest and As You Like It.
--Horace Howard Furness, preface to New Variorum As You Like It (1890) (1)
As you like it may have been the first play staged at the Globe Theater when it opened in 1599, and Jaques's set speech demonstrating that "All the world's a stage" would be particularly appropriate for such an occasion. (2) Nevertheless, within the play, despite its many scattered references to travel and exploration, (3) that which is global is disparaged, and it is a virtue to be "inland bred." Rosalind attributes the fineness of her accent to the fact that she was taught by her uncle, an "inland man," and Orlando apologizes for his roughness in his initial encounter with the duke, protesting that he is nevertheless "inland bred / And know[s] some nurture" (2.7.96-97; 3.2.345). (4) To be "inland" is to be distant from port cities and the diversity of accent and nationality that accompanies international commerce. The sole representative of that cosmopolitan world in the play is Jaques, who has traveled widely on the world's stage and has the moral cynicism and disease to match. Rosalind mocks him, "I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad--and to travel for it too!"(4.1.27-29), and the exiled Duke attributes Jaques's moodiness to "all th' embossed sores, and headed evils, / That thou with license of free foot hast caught" and that Jaques now wants to use to infect others: to "disgorge into the general world" (2.7.67-69). "License of free foot" suggests freedom to travel but also that such freedom is inherently licentious, subject to contagion, especially to the "sores" of venereal disease. Jaques embodies the association of early modern travel and colonization with the spread of new diseases, especially syphilis, in England called the "French disease," which every European nation attributed to contamination from a source outside itself.
I will focus here on the paratextual means by which editors have intensified a fascinating process of provincialization in editing the play--a process that was arguably begun by Shakespeare himself as he rewrote his main source text, Thomas Lodge's prose romance Rosalynde (1590). According to Lodge's dedicatory epistle, he wrote his romance while sailing to foreign lands--"voyaging to the Islands of Terceras & the Canaries" and the title page describes the book as "Fetcht from the Canaries by T. L. Gent." (5) as though to suggest that his romance was acquired in an exotic locale.
Appropriately for a text that claims an Iberian colony as its origin, the story of Rosalynde is woven through with memories of the Crusades and Muslim encounters. Sir John of Bordeaux, a Knight of Malta and survivor of many military frays against the Turks, is on his deathbed and his sons are Saladyne (whose name recalls Saladin, the heroic Muslim reconqueror of Jerusalem), Fernardyne, and Rosader. The story of the three brothers is similar in its general outlines to Shakespeare's version, but much more punctuated by violence: Rosader has to slay Saladyne's dinner guests and endure a military siege brought by Saladyne in order to escape his elder brother's house; Saladyne and Rosader are later reconciled and slay forest ruffians who have kidnapped Aliena; and the reunited brothers must fall to arms again at the end of the tale to regain the rights of the exiled Gerismonde to the throne of France.
In As You Like It Shakespeare eliminates the Crusader references by changing the name of Saladyne to Oliver and excises the military violence linked via John of Bordeaux to the war against the Turks. His emptying out of Lodge's Islamic motifs extends even to minute details: Lodge's Rosalynde admonishes Phoebe's lover, "in courting Phoebe thou barkest with the Wolves of Syria against the moon" (sig. P4r); in Shakespeare's version, Rosalind exclaims, "Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon" (5.2.109-10). Shakespeare's rewriting also removes most of the geographically specific references that locate Rosalynde securely in France, though he keeps a few French names (Le Beau, whom Celia addresses, "bon jour, Monsieur" 1.2.97; Amiens; and Jaques, an Anglicization of Jacques). In Shakespeare's As You Like It, suspect "foreign" elements that had been sprinkled throughout the story of Rosalynde are separated off from the pure, "inland" characters and attached to the contaminated misfit, Jaques.
When the editors of the Oxford Shakespeare (1986) specified in their text that the forest at the heart of As You Like It was the French Ardennes rather than the English Forest of Arden they encountered considerable resistance. The idea was by no means new, having first been suggested by Edmond Malone, (6) and neither was the resistance to it. In spelling Arden as Ardennes the Oxford editors performed sacrilege against Shakespearean immanence by breaking apart a comfortable continuum by which audiences of As You Like It could throb in identification with inhabitants of the Forest of Arden and therefore (through geographical association) with the heart of Shakespeare. In the language of the nineteenth-century Shakespearean F. G. Fleay,
In unison with [the plays of Shakespeare] the throbbings of our common humanity have pulsated for centuries in a harmony unparalleled in the case of any other poet.... in our enthusiasm for Shakespeare we must not forget the claim that Warwickshire has on us for its own sake. Its beauty and its position, independent of its historic associations, endear it to all who have an artist's eye for landscape or a heart that can enjoy the repose of English country scenery. As Drayton says, "Into the heart of England and Wales the Muse here is entered, that is Warwickshire, her native country." (7)
The word "Arden" is a guarantor of Shakespearean authenticity: It was and remains the name of the first series of full-dress editions of individual plays, the Arden Shakespeare; In Arden is also the clever title of a festschrift dedicated to Richard Proudfoot, one of the Arden Shakespeare's longest-serving general editors; and there is an online discussion group called "The Forest of Arden" devoted to fending off anti-Stratfordians and proving that Shakespeare is really Shakespeare. (8) English geography becomes a warrant for authorial authenticity.
Nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Stratford-upon-Avon productions of the play carried the yen for this type of associational authenticity onto the stage: in an 1879 production Audrey was given a turnip from Anne Hathaway's garden; and for forty years beginning in 1879 Stratford productions featured a stuffed stag borrowed from Charlecote Manor, where legend has it that the adolescent Shakespeare had poached deer. In 1919, when As You Like It was produced without the stuffed stag, there was deep shock in Stratford over the "iconoclasm" of the omission. (9) Shakespeare may have played the role of Adam and/or satirized himself in the hapless countryman named William. Arden was his mother's maiden name. How could the forest of As You Like It not be Shakespeare's Forest of Arden, where his grandfather had been a yeoman farmer, in Warwickshire, the heart of England, equidistant from all surrounding seas and therefore, according to Fleay, quintessentially "Middle England"? (10) The bias of the play's central characters against the foreign and the well-traveled, links it with early modern English fears of foreign contamination, even though Jaques's status as an outsider is grounded more in his own habits of mind than in any predefined racial or confessional difference. (11) And editorial treatment of the play over time suggests that the fears have not entirely subsided, at least not in relation to Shakespeare and the sacred space of Arden.
Jaques is associated throughout the play with strange rituals that have come over the years to carry strong colonial resonances and that would have had some of those same resonances even for early modern readers and viewers. As Margaret Ferguson has recently argued, early modern writers like Marguerite de Navarre critiqued the French colonial project even though it was still in its infancy; and as Shankar Raman has shown, "From its inception, early modern colonialism carried anticolonial elements ... suggesting that the colonial and the post-colonial are always interwoven formations." (12) The play has many incidental references to gold, sea voyaging, and exploration (Dusinberre, ed., pp. 91-93), and is clearly part of an emerging conversation about England's colonial pursuits. But as I will argue here, at least in its handling of Jaques, As You Like It can be understood as a critique of incipient British colonialism. In its strong preference for the "inland" over the peripheral, Shakespeare's play is not so much innocently pre-colonial as it is deliberately meditative on the colonial experience. Many readers have been disturbed that Jaques exempts himself from the merriment at the end, when four remarkably diverse couples celebrate their marriages under the aegis of Hymen and with the blessings of Duke Senior. The cosmopolitan figure of the traveler/ colonizer represents a threat of contamination, even if only imagined by some of the other characters, to the harmony and well-being of the small world at the end of the play. Thus Jaques says "I am for other than for dancing measures" and goes off to join the "convertite" Duke Frederick, who has ceded his usurped title to his older brother and "put on a religious life"(5.4.193, 181-84). Jaques's license to travel has seemingly caused him to "catch" a monastic strain of Catholicism in addition to his other diseases.
By obligingly removing himself from the final scene Jaques takes with him the threat of nebulous difference that might otherwise taint Rosalind, Orlando, and the rest of the "inland bred." It is all handled lightheartedly and even this degree of interpretation may appear intrusive in consequence. But it is, I will suggest, part of the abiding appeal of Shakespeare for many readers that he is able to articulate so clearly, even in a pastoral play like As You Like It, the combined fascination and fear of a broad world of international trade, confessional differences, and all manner of threatening hybridities as seen from the cozy vantage point of "little England." Already in the 1590s Thomas Platter observed that the English "pass their time learning at the play what is happening abroad ... since for the most part the English do not use to travel, but prefer to learn of foreign matters and take their pleasures at home." (13) As Raman has shown, early modern theater frequently thematizes the idea of a play as a vicarious form of "proto-colonial voyaging" (132-42). Part of the attraction of As You Like It is that it allows its readers or viewers to play armchair colonials: to imagine various stances in relation to an alien population without incurring danger. That the play continues to have this effect has as much to do with the provincializing tactics of the editorial tradition as it does with the provincialism of Shakespeare.
Jaques and the Natives
The melancholy Jaques is customarily thought of as a solitary figure--one who cannot interact successfully with others, as represented in his rejection first by Orlando, who dismisses him as "either a fool or a cipher" (3.2.290), and then by Rosalind, who bids him farewell with a series of caustic comments about the perversity of travelers (4.1.33-38). But Jaques has his own social group in As You Like It. He first expresses his empathy for the fallen deer in the forest, whom he regards as a brother in hardship in a tableau described by the exiled Duke's lords (2.1). Then Jaques presides over two short scenes of obscure collective ritual that are seemingly at odds with his sympathetic encounter with the deer: the gathering of foresters, or lords disguised as foresters, in 2.5, during which he airs his mysterious incantation "Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame!"--a "Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle" (2.5.54, 59-60); and a second gathering of foresters in 4.2, where Jaques and the hunters celebrate the killing of a stag and sing the virtue of horns as a quixotic badge of honor and cuckoldry.
Jaques may have returned from his travels when he joins the exiles in the Forest of Arden, but he relates to it as to an internal colony in Michael Hechter's sense of the phrase: an island of difference cut off from the broader national culture, a place where disparate rules apply and dominant values have not yet penetrated and in which interactions with the local population tend to take place according to the colonial pattern of confrontation rather than as a gradual assimilation of difference. (14) As Hechter describes the phenomenon, internal colonization tends to go along with colonization: Britain's encounters with alien cultures abroad stimulated her to confront pockets of difference within her own borders. We can see this pattern operating through the figure of Jaques in As You Like It. In the scenes he dominates, he stages a disjunct series of protocolonial postures in relation to the "natives" of the forest, the deer.
As You Like It, as readers often notice, is steeped in language that identifies the human in the animal and the animal in the human, with particular attention to the deer. None of this language exists in Shakespeare's source, Thomas Lodge's Rosalynde, which, to the extent that it uses animal metaphors at all, shows a predilection for likening humans to species of birds. In As You Like It and especially in the Forest of Arden, the heart evokes the hart and vice versa: dear and deer, various forms of stalking, being hit by arrows (from hunters or from Cupid), human and animal "fools," both species of which can wear dappled coats of motley (cf. the Duke's speech at 2.1.22 referring to the deer as "dappled fools"). The Duke at one point describes Jaques as "transform'd into a beast" (2.7.1), Orlando fetching Adam is a "doe" in search of her "fawn" (2.7.128), Rosalind is a "hind" hunted by a "hart" (3.2.101); there are numerous elaborate jests upon horns and horned beasts, both of the animal and of the human variety. Above all, epitomizing all the play's victims, whether merely exiles or exiles who have also been wounded by Cupid's arrows, there is Jaques's weeping stag, whose human-like tears suggest Actaeon, the Ovidian hunter turned stag, and whose very tears "Cours'd one another" down his face in yet another metaphor from hunting (2.1.39).
In As You Like It, this melding of the human with the animal is peculiar to the Forest of Arden. Before their exile in the forest, Orlando and Adam each expressed outrage at Oliver's treating them like beasts. Orlando raged at his brother for keeping him uneducated: "for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? ... I (his brother) gain nothing under him but growth, for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I" (1.1.9-16). When Oliver calls Adam "old dog" Adam counters "Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master, he would not have spoke such a word" (1.1.81-84). In bridling at being identified with animals early in the play, they reveal their adherence to an assumption about civilized hierarchy and exclusivity by which any breach of the boundary between the human and the animal is intolerable.
In the more fluid space of the Forest of Arden, however, Orlando and Adam almost immediately become animalized (and feminized) as a "doe" and her "fawn" (2.7.128). They have entered into a new space where customary distinctions are suspended and the two men relinquish the lines of demarcation by which the "animal" is defined as the not-human and therefore as the other that determines the boundaries of the self. But simultaneously they define themselves (at least temporarily) as alien in terms of the dominant culture outside of the Forest of Arden: one of the commonest traits of colonial discourse is to imagine the natives as animals, as in Charles Kingsley's nineteenth-century observation of the locals during a visit to one of Britain's internal colonies, Ireland. He wrote, "I am haunted by the human chimpanzees I saw along that hundred miles of horrible country," animals that were the more confounding because they were not black, like African chimpanzees, but uncannily white like him. (15)
For most of the exiles in Arden, assimilation with the ethos of the forest and its melding of human and animal identities comes effortlessly, even joyously, but Jaques resists any such assimilation and stages a series of tableaux that dramatize the boundary between the human and the animal and inject it with power relations in such a way that the Forest of Arden--at least for him--becomes an interior colony. The other main characters in Arden do not polarize their environment in the same way. When Duke Senior expresses his regret that he and his men are required to hunt venison for food, he thinks of the forest natives, the deer, as equivalent to his own group in terms of their native rights and privileges, though of lower social rank:
Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gor'd. (2.1.21-25)
The forest, which seems "desert" to humans because of its dearth of human inhabitants, is yet a "city" for the deer, who are its "native burghers" with hereditary rights in the same sense that Londoners or other town dwellers have rights and franchises that cannot be impugned by the Crown. Duke Senior portrays hunting, however justified it may be by his need to feed his men, as a form of illegal infringement of the citizens' rights of the deer. He also likens deer to citizens in terms of their corpulence--their "round haunches" that can be "gor'd," suggesting sexual penetration and therefore feminization by the exiled courtiers--and in terms of their traditional proclivity to be cuckolded, "with forked heads," particularly by gallants from the court. In these few lines, Duke Senior raises issues of City rights and privileges that were publicly debated at the time, particularly when Elizabeth or James I sought to raise revenue for the Crown by encroaching upon City jurisdictions or enacting what the "burghers" regarded as illegal taxes and subsidies.
Similar views that animals can make legitimate legal claims against humans can be found elsewhere in the pre-Cartesian world: in the charming early Islamic tract The Case of the Animals versus Man Before the King of the Jinn (circa 960 CE), where the animals, who have been turned into beasts of burden and mistreated by men, decide to go to law to receive redress of their grievances; and also in actual law cases from sixteenth-and seventeenth-century Europe, where we find a kindred willingness on the part of humans to litigate on behalf of animals' legal rights, even if humans are damaged thereby. Perhaps the best-known of these is the 1545 case of the weevils of St. Julien, who were infesting the area's vineyards and damaging the grapes. Vineyard stakeholders made formal complaint against the weevils, who were offered legal representation and given a trial date. The verdict at the first hearing was that the "accused and indicted" creatures were entitled to eat the grapes, because grapes were created by God to be food for animals as well as to make wine for humans. Not all legal verdicts of the period went in favor of the animals: many dogs were hanged for killing humans or other violent crimes--so that the expression "hang dog" was at one time much more than a metaphor--and some of these dogs were executed, just as a human might be, at the end of a full judicial trial. (16)
In the scene in which melancholy Jaques contemplates the stricken deer, as reported by one of the lords, Jaques, like Duke Senior in the immediately preceding speech, reads the deer as enfranchised citizens of the forest upon whom Duke Senior has "usurped" just as unlawfully as he himself had been usurped by his younger brother. But Jaques's perspective subtly differs from the Duke's:
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood, To the which place a poor sequest'red stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th'extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. (2.1.29-43)
In the reported speeches that follow, Jaques is said to express a horror of hunting that strikes a chord of sympathy in many modern readers and echoes the sentiment of near-contemporaries like Montaigne and Sir John Harington (Dusinberre, ed., 2.1.62n).
In Jaques's interpretation, the deer is multiply victimized: he is like a "bankrupt" who has been abandoned by his still-prosperous fellow "citizens" of the City of Deer, who callously leap past him and fail even to greet him in his time of need (2.1.55-57); also by the "brawling" stream and therefore by the natural world, which like a greedy monarch exacts a "sum" of tears from the animal even though the stream is already full and therefore "needless" of additional moisture (2.1.46-49); and even by the animal's "velvet" friends who have left him to suffer alone (2.1.50). "Velvet friends" could be a metonym for aristocrats, since only aristocrats in London were allowed to wear velvet, or could refer to young deer, since "velvet" was also a name used for the soft, furry appearance of new antlers (Dusinberre, ed., 2.1.50n). Both meanings apply: Jaques's overdetermined identification with the victimized deer allows him to claim for himself the status of universal victim and gives him a pretext for satirizing every element of the miserable world that would tolerate such exploitation.
Unlike Duke Senior, however, Jaques views the deer's place in the forest from the perspective of a critical outsider. His unwillingness to acknowledge his own participation in the culture of exile that requires hunting for survival sets him apart from the other denizens of Arden. He is, in effect, a colonizer--in the forest but not of it, critiquing its customs from the perspective of an observer convinced of his moral superiority, and identifying with its victim, the fallen deer, without recognizing that his extravagant sympathy for its plight is essentially narcissistic, a displacement of his own feelings of unfair rejection at the hands of the dominant culture. His weeping over the spectacle of "native" suffering recalls colonial encounters like the Portuguese chronicler Gomes Eannes de Azurara's affecting witness to the capture of Africans for the slave trade:
But what heart could be so hard as not to be pierced with piteous feeling to see that company? For some kept their heads low and their faces bathed in tears, looking one upon another; others stood groaning very dolorously, looking up to the height of heaven, fixing their eyes upon it, crying out loudly, as if asking help of the Father of Nature; others struck their faces with the palms of their hands, throwing themselves at full length upon the ground; others made the lamentations in the manner of a dirge, after the custom of their country. And though we could not understand the words of their language, the sound of it right well accorded with the measure of their sadness. (17)
Their sympathy with this doleful scene did not, however, prevent the Portuguese from taking the Africans into slavery; nor does Jaques's sympathy for the deer keep him from violence against the species later in the play. Though his topic is the exploitation of deer rather than the enchaining of slaves, the weeping Jaques of 2.1 displays a protocolonial split subjectivity much like that of the Portuguese contemplating their weeping slaves.
The false consciousness of Jaques's tableau of sympathy in 2.1 is starkly revealed at 4.2 when his Lords, and possibly also he himself, assume the garb of "Foresters" who preside over a strange ritual celebrating the killing of a deer, though presumably not the same deer lamented in act 2. A forester could be a huntsman as well as one whose job was to preside over a forest; (18) and the First Folio stage direction is ambiguous as to whether Jaques is dressed as one of the foresters: "Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters." (19) Either way, his demeanor is starkly different from that in his sentimental reverie of 2.1: instead of identifying with the fallen deer, he presides over a celebration of the kill, directing the lords to hack off the deer's horns and turn them into a badge of imperial conquest for the killer: "Let's present him to the Duke like a Roman conqueror, and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory" (4.2.3-5). Jaques then calls for a song of mingled triumph and humiliation:
What shall he have that kill'd the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home. The rest shall bear this burthen. Take thou no scorn to wear the horn, It was a crest ere thou wast born; Thy father's father wore it, And thy father bore it. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. (4.2.10-18)
The song hovers uneasily between self-glorification and self-mockery, since horns could also signify cuckoldry. But the song's "lusty horn" has phallic power as well as suggesting impotence. The song's word "crest" for the horns suggests nobility (as in a "crest" as coat of arms) and proper inheritance from father to son through the generations ("father" and "father's father") at the same time as it evokes the violation of blood lines implied by wifely infidelity. For Jaques and his men, the donning of horns offers a form of protective coloration as well as a symbol of conquest, like the clothing donned by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in a strange moment in Spanish history: the conquering Spaniards put on Moorish garb to accept the keys to the Alhambra from its last Moorish king. (20)
If we recall the pervasive early modern tendency to think of colonial conquest in terms of the conquest of a woman, (21) we can perhaps understand why there should be an undercurrent of sexual shame in Jaques's scene of victory over the deer. The imperial project entails the possibilities of vulnerability and failure, which can be sexually encoded as failure to dominate a woman, as in the curious Jan van der Straet drawing discussed by Louis Montrose: its foreground shows Amerigo Vespucci confronting a nude feather-crowned woman representing, according to its caption, America. But in the center of the background there is a scene of native cannibals, mostly women, roasting a captive, quite possibly one of Vespucci's men. (22) The foreground celebrates conquest; the background displays a fear of engulfment and emasculation. In early modern travel writing, unknown territory is often associated with images of gender inversion: Sir Walter Ralegh was sure that he had found the Amazons on his voyage to Guiana; the boundaries of civilized territory are also frontiers of gender. (23)
It is impossible to judge the tone of Jaques's deer-killing scene at our cultural distance: since it is short and problematic it is usually cut in performance, or else Jaques is metamorphosed from instigator into a horrified witness of the bloody brutalities of the lords as they dismember the deer. In some stagings, Jaques and the lords become atavistic primitives whose raw savagery provides necessary energy for the final scene of the play. (24) The two scenes involving Jaques and the deer are disjunct in the way that Stephen Greenblatt has described early European narratives of discovery as disjunct: they present intense moments of perception and emotion that fracture moral consistency and contextual understanding. (25) 2.1 and 4.2 stage a stark contradiction between two incommensurable early colonial attitudes: the desire to admire and empathize with the newly discovered, and the desire to destroy or appropriate it as a proof of conquest. (26)
Perhaps in part because of his association with what I have presented here as contradictions of colonial experience, Jaques has been a polarizing figure in terms of audience response, arousing strongly contrasting feelings and evaluations among his diverse readers and viewers. It comes as no surprise that the well-traveled British colonials who prepared editions of As You Like It for use in India viewed him particularly negatively. For H. M. Percival of Presidency College, Calcutta, who edited the play as part of the Longmans' Plays of Shakespeare for Indian Students, Jaques's only actual achievements in the play were "malicious" ones, as in his disrupting the proposed marriage between Touchstone and Audrey by Sir Oliver Martext, or as in his violence toward the deer in 4.2: "The cynic who had mourned in similes over a wounded deer, on a former occasion, is here found to be proposing that the customary honours should be paid to one who had slain a deer. So much for the sincerity of cynicism!" Similarly, K. Deighton, late Principal of Agra College, who edited As You Like It for the Macmillan English Classics for Indian University Students, ended his introduction to the play with an invective against Jaques: "The coxcombry of wisdom, sentimentality, and self-consciousness in which he pranks himself is redeemed by no generous action; his 'often rumination' has no outcome in the shape of reality; the experience he boasts of only makes him maudlin, 'And,' as Rosalind pithily sums it up, 'to travel for it too!'" (27)
The third of Jaques's disjunct protocolonial episodes is an enigmatic scene at 2.5 that shows Jaques posturing as a colonial "insider" in terms of language and translation (as opposed to the rest of the exiles) through his staging of the curse--or is it a blessing?-- "Ducdame!" The word occurs as a refrain to a stanza he composes as a parodic addition to Amiens' delightful song in praise of forest life, "Under the greenwood tree," with its refrain, "Come hither, come hither, come hither!" (2.5.5):
If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame! Here shall he see Gross fools as he, And if he will come to me. (2.5.50-57)
Amiens asks him "What's that 'ducdame'?" and Jaques replies, unhelpfully, " 'Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle" (2.5.58-60).
What, indeed, is "Ducdame"? So much ink and ingenuity have been spilt over the deciphering of this deliberately mysterious "Greek invocation" that few critics in recent years have dared to rebroach the topic. Already in Horace Howard Furness's nineteenth-century Variorum Edition of As You Like It we find three large pages of small type attempting to explicate the phrase, and Richard Knowles's more recent Variorum Edition is shorter but similarly detailed. (28) Some of the theories Furness cites relate to everyday country life, as in "duck, dame," a country dame's cry calling her ducks to herself; or the "burden of some old song"; or a repeated phrase "intended to represent the twang of a guitar." A number of commentators resorted to European languages with which Shakespeare arguably had some acquaintance: "Italian Due da mi--'Keep him from me,' to answer Amiens's earlier refrain, "Come hither" (Furness); or French due damne for "damned Duke" (Knowles). Some commentators attempted to derive the phrase from the classical tradition, reading it as dog Latin for "Give me the Duke"; as an evocation of the moon goddess Dictymna; or as a syncopated version of a refrain from Virgil's Eclogues 8.68, "ducite ... domum or ducite Daphnim" (Knowles).
Interestingly enough, however, by far the most numerous and elaborated of the suggestions had to do with ancient or modern Celtic culture. Dr. Charles Mackay linked the word to a game called "Tom Tidler's Ground" that used a Gaelic phrase--duthaich da mi; he sought to prove that the phrase's "true derivation was from the Keltic," and "known to British children before the Saxon and Danish irruptions and conquest" (Furness). A commentator signing himself only as "Welshman" argued that "Ducdame" was "honest Welsh, as nearly as the Saxon tongue could frame it. Its exact Cambrian equivalent is Dewch da me, good Welsh for 'Come with (or to) me' " (Furness). Another scholar identified the phrase as the Irish words "tuiefaidh me," meaning "I will come"; and yet another identified it as an Irish refrain to the song "Eileen a roon" (Knowles).
Yet a further range of possibilities that enticed scholars and editors was that "Ducdame" might have come from Romany culture, which would account for Jaques's assertion that it was "a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle" since Romany was sometimes called "Pedlar's Greek, the popular name for the cant language of the beggars and gypsies of his day." The Romany explanation would also account for Jaques's enigmatic later statement that he will go and "rant against all the first-born of Egypt," since the name "Gypsies" was derived from "Egyptians" (Furness). In a letter of 1891, the Victorian Sir Walter A. Raleigh thanked his friend Charles Strachey for the receipt of an article in which Strachey had identified "Ducdame" as "pretty good Romanes" and related it to Romany expressions such as dukdom me, meaning "I did harm"; dikdom me, "I saw"; or dukkerdom me, "I told fortunes, or cast spells." "What is more likely," Strachey asked in his article, than that "Shakspere in some country walk, or when travelling as a strolling player, should have come upon an encampment of these strange people: men, women, and children, sitting or sprawling round the cooking-pit, ready to predict the future of any foolish country-folk who could be enticed into their circle?" He goes on to argue that the gypsy life is very much like the carefree forest existence of the outcasts of Arden, quoting the authors of a dictionary of the Romany language:
In these days of material progress and much false refinement, they [the Gypsies] present the singular spectacle of a race In our midst who regard with philosophic indifference the much-prized comforts of modern civilization, and object to forego their simple life in close contact with Nature in order to engage in the struggle after wealth and personal aggrandisement. (29)
The immediately previous sentence in the dictionary of Romany is, "Gypsies are the Arabs of pastoral England--the Bedouins of our commons and woodlands" (Crofton and Smart, xvi). And so, by means of Jaques and his mysterious "Ducdame," the Islamic resonances that Shakespeare had been at such pains to remove from As You Like It nudge their way back into the play's interpretive milieu.
The fact that so many commentators during the colonial era were intent on linking Arden with the fringe Celtic cultures of Britain or even with the nomadic Romany "race in our midst" suggests that these late Victorians were filtering the play through a colonial state of mind--relating to Arden, in fact, as though it was an internal colony, a space in need of exploration and mastery in the same way that a recently conquered foreign territory would be. "Ducdame" functioned for them as an enigmatic call of the wild, a challenge to cultural knowledge perhaps somewhat akin to the linguistic fragments of colonial experience from roughly contemporary early twentieth-century novels as analyzed by Homi Bhabha: an "archaic" alien language--"The horror, the horror" in Conrad's Heart of Darkness or the "Bourn, ou-boum" echoing from the Marabar Caves in A Passage to India--a language that constitutes silence because it is incomprehensible, "speaks in riddles, obliterating proper names and proper places," and echoes through the novels until "the sign of identity and reality found in the work of empire is slowly undone." (30) From this perspective, editors' or commentators' effort to settle "Ducdame" into interpretive certainty could carry colonial resonances in that these scholars were, in a modest way, restoring the identity of signs and revalidating the linguistic work of the British Empire. But simultaneously, as we shall see, they were striving to protect Arden by isolating the contaminating figure of Jaques.
Sir Walter A. Raleigh was quite captivated by Strachey's interpretation of "Ducdame" as a fragment of Romany language and recommended it to other scholars. He wrote Strachey, "It seems to me triumphantly convincing--all the more a triumph because critics are so apt to find subtleties where nonsense was intended." (31) By then the rush to annotate "Ducdame" had already become a bit of a joke. Furness cites the dry comment of Charles Moberly, a nineteenth-century editor of the play, to the effect that Jaques's own explanation of "Ducdame" as "A Greek invocation to call fools into a circle" has certainly proved correct in terms of the line's heady effect on the long parade of linguists and etymologists who have attempted to explain it (Furness, ed., 2.1.52n, 56n). "Ducdame" has had a history similar to that of the phrase "Blue-eyed hag" from The Tempest as discussed briefly in my earlier study, Unediting the Renaissance: (32) much highly speculative and widely ranging commentary in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, followed by increasing codification as we approach the present. Most recent editors of the play have refused to take the bait that so tantalized earlier editors and have dismissed Jaques's phrase as deliberate nonsense.
Here I will join the circle of fools and suggest--or perhaps a more appropriate word would be "perform"--yet another interpretation of "Ducdame," not in the hopes of forever settling uncertainty of meaning, but with an eye towards linking the word with Arden's world of animals and also demonstrating an odd blind spot in received interpretations of the phrase. So far as I have been able to determine, the interpretation I will offer has not been made previously, despite the fact that it is much closer at hand than many of the wildly speculative readings offered in the past. Perhaps editors have been led astray by their desire to associate Jaques with exoticism, whether of the colonial or the internally colonial variety.
The phrase, I will contend, could well be based not on Greek, for Jaques is certainly pulling our leg there, but on Latin dama or damma, a word to be found in most of the standard Latin authors-Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Juvenal--and meaning "fallow deer." Fallow deer are a genus and species of smallish deer--Latin name dama dama--that originated in the Mediterranean but were introduced into England by the Normans. They populated (and still populate) many aristocratic deer parks while also living wild in English forests. Perhaps their most noteworthy physical feature is that they keep their spots as adults, which correlates with Duke Senior's description of the deer of Arden as "dappled fools." "Ducdame" could therefore mean, "Lead, O deer!" Latin due, the imperative of duco, plus the vocative of dama in its masculine form dame or feminine dama, which would sound very similar to dame. To call upon deer to lead men, however sarcastically Jaques intends the idea, would appear a very plausible gesture in the Forest of Arden, where normal rules of social hierarchy are suspended and the human is so insistently merged through figurative language with the animal. On this interpretation, Jaques in 2.5 would offer yet a third disjunct posture in relation to the deer by posing as a colonial insider--in our terms a proto-ethnographer--one who knows the tribal secrets and uses his arcane language skills to show his superior mastery of the culture.
How can it be that this reading of "Ducdame" (whether convincing in the present or not) has not occurred to commentators before now, given that they have ransacked Virgil and dog Latin and wandered into Celtic and Romany lore in search of an answer to the riddle? Scholars have long pointed to parallels between As You Like It and the Georgies, which happens to have the lines "timidi dammae cervique fugaces / nunc interque canes et circum tecta vagantur," describing a time when normal animal behavior is suspended because of drought and disease ("Timorous deer and shy stags now stray among the hounds and about the house"). (33) They have similarly identified connections between the play and Virgil's Eclogues, even, as we have seen, suggesting a specific link with a refrain from Eclogue 8, "ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin." But the same Eclogue also has "cum canibus timidi venient ad pocula dammae," describing an age to come when the world will be transformed by the power of Damon's poetry ("the timid deer shall come with hounds to drink," Virgil, Eclogues 8.28).
Dama/damae also occurs in Ovid and other standard Latin authors, and in Quintilian's Institutio oratorio, which was a mainstay of Elizabethan grammar schools. Book 9 Chapter 3 on "Verbal figures" explains under rubric 6 that figures of speech can be of two kinds: grammatical and rhetorical. A grammatical figure is an oddity that "would be a fault if it were accidental and not deliberate," but that when deployed judiciously has "a great practical use, namely to relieve the tedium of everyday stereotyped language and protect us from a commonplace way of speaking. Used sparingly, and as occasion demands, it will be a sort of condiment, the addition of which will make the speaker more acceptable" because it adds the "special charm of variety." Quintilian goes on to explain that grammatical figures may "occur in the gender of nouns: Vergil says oculis capti talpae ["blind moles"] and timidi dammae ["timid deer"]; but there is a reason for this, because both sexes are covered by one, and there are of course male talpae (moles) and damae (deer) as well as female." (34) Nineteenth-century editors of Virgil, Quintilian, and other authors where damma/ae appears duly annotated the word and discussed it.
But their counterparts, the editors of Shakespeare, despite the fact that they shared the same interpretive milieu, could not imagine the word damma as coming from Jaques's mouth. All of the instances of damma I have cited here relate to displacements of one kind or another, whether through bad weather, the power of poetry, or gender, and all are therefore particularly appropriate analogues for a play like As You Like It and for a displaced character like Jaques. The reason damma has not appeared in annotations of the play, I would suggest, is that editors operating within a colonial context unconsciously disallowed it because of their desire to separate Jaques off from the Forest of Arden, which they want to imagine as a primeval, innocent, quintessentially Shakespearean space. If "Ducdame" means "Lead, O deer," however sardonically Jaques may be uttering the phrase, then Jaques, the contaminated, the suspiciously cosmopolitan, threatens to become a spokesperson for its animals, both beasts and humans, and for the ethos of the Forest of Arden.
Shoring Up the Feminine
"Ducdame" also suggests English or French dame, meaning woman, or Italian dama. It is quite likely that even if they didn't recognize Latin damme or damma in Jaques's mysterious word, members of early audiences would have heard a resemblance (depending on how the word was pronounced) to its English, French, or Italian cognates. If we don't mind mixing languages or constructing yet another interpretation based on dog Latin, we can also identify a possible superimposed reference to another inversion of hierarchy, a woman leading men.
A number of critics over the past several decades have noted the play's indebtedness to the festival motif of the "woman on top." (35) They have not, however, linked Jaques's linguistic fragment "Ducdame" to the leadership of its central female figure, though, as we have seen, one commentator suggested the phrase could refer to a "dame" who was a leader of ducks. Rosalind controls the world of the Forest of Arden, as critics have often noted--Due, dame!--whether as Ganymede or in her own person. Her role is similar to that of the Latin word damma as described by Quintilian: she "covers" both genders although her ostensible form is feminine. "Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame!" can therefore be fruitfully read as combining the animal and the feminine--damma and dame (pronounced dame as in French)--and as crystallizing the Forest of Arden's dissolution of ordinary social rules and limitations, even including the separation between the male and the female and between the human and the animal.
As Kelly Oliver has shown, male philosophers (and for that matter, traditionally minded editors) have been prone to identify women with animals and define the human as the not-animal; the human is, as a result, implicitly equated with maleness and masculinity. In Oliver's view, even Jacques Derrida's study The Animal That Therefore I Am, or The Animal That Therefore I Follow (since French "Je suis" can be translated either way), which is dedicated to undoing the post-Cartesian separation between humans and animals, can nevertheless be interpreted as exploiting "the age-old association between woman and animal." (36) However, as she points out, Derrida is also interested in multiplying the differences within the categories of human and animal such that sexual difference becomes an array of multiple forms rather than a central binary, and the divide of man versus woman and animal becomes so complicated by categorical exceptions as to be untenable. As Oliver explains,
[A] menagerie of animals, with sexualities intact, appears on the threshold of sexual difference in order to show that just as there is a multitude of animals, there is a multitude of sexes and sexualities. This display of animal sex is not just intended to demonstrate that all animals cannot be divided into the binary couple male/female. In addition, it opens our imaginations to the possibility of alternative sexes and sexualities.
As You Like It's confounding of animal/human boundaries within the Forest of Arden functions in a remarkably similar fashion. It is not just that the play was written for a stage on which all the actors were men, or that Rosalind enacts multiple fantasies of androgyny by being a man playing a woman playing a man through her disguise of Ganymede, playing a woman in the charade with Orlando during which she pretends to be his Rosalind. There are also many instances of gender fluidity--what Quintilian might call deliberate oddities designed to add a "special charm of variety"--in the language of the Folio text. Critics have long pointed to the play's epilogue, spoken by Rosalind--presumably dressed as a woman, since when she enters in the final scene her father recognizes her for the first time and Phoebe finally realizes that "Ganymede" is a woman--but nevertheless signaling a maleness beneath the womanly attire through the admission "If I were a woman" (Epilogue 18). But the play's fluidity in terms of the male/female binary goes far beyond that in the Folio text, though most instances have been erased by modern editors.
As Jeffrey Masten has pointed out, the Folio text of the final scene has Hymen calling upon Duke Senior to receive Rosalind and join her hand with Orlando's, except that his precise language in the First Folio is: "That thou mightst ioyne his hand with his, / Whose heart within his bosome is" (TLN 2689-90). (37) The homoerotic charge of "his with his" calls attention to the underlying gender identity of both actors. The same thing also happens at several earlier points in the Folio text. In 1.1 Charles the wrestler introduces Rosalind and Celia's friendship: "the Dukes daughter her Cosen so loves her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to stay behind her" (TLN 108-11). Here,"hee" could be Celia or Rosalind--and if the latter, verbally gendered as male in the play already in its first scene and long before she dons her disguise as Ganymede. Similarly, in one of his love poems to Rosalind Orlando refers to "Helens cheeke, but not his heart" (TLN 1343) and in 5.2 Oliver makes the flip side of the same mistake, calling Ganymede "faire sister" (TLN 2428). He could be nodding toward Rosalind's identity beneath her male disguise or participating in Orlando's game of imagining "him" as a female lover, but his language adds to a long series of gender confusions in connection with the person of Rosalind that the Epilogue continues rather than initiating.
It is even possible that Rosalind speaks her Epilogue while most of the other actors are still onstage. The Folio has the stage direction "Exit" after Jaques's final speech and again after Duke Senior's immediately following speech, where he directs the rest of the company, "Proceed, proceed: wee'l begin these rights, / As we do trust, they'l end in true delights" (TLN 2773-75). Modern editors have assumed that this First Folio "Exit" should be "Exeunt" and that all the actors except Rosalind exit along with the Duke after a suitable amount of final festivity on stage. But what if they are still onstage to hear and react to Rosalind's Epilogue confessing that she is not a woman? Such a moment would increase the gender destabilization already evident in the Folio language throughout the play and provide an interesting dilemma for the other actors, who would be required to show some kind of response to Rosalind's revelation--a possibility that the Folio text allows but modern editions uniformly disallow. By tidying up the gender confusions in the language of the play, editors have chivalrously protected Rosalind against references that point to her underlying male identity in the Shakespearean theater and that could thereby deflect from her status as Shakespeare's ideal woman, the personification of the spirit of the Forest of Arden.
Although Jaques has tended to polarize audience response over the centuries, everyone, it seems, loves Rosalind. Horace Howard Furness, after declaring (as cited in the epigraph, above) that As You Like It is "through and through an English comedy," went on to rhapsodize that "England is the home of As You Like It, with all its visions of the Forest of Arden and heavenly ROSALIND, but let it remain there; never let it cross 'the narrow seas' " (Furness, ed., vii). Rosalind, for him, is the presiding genius, the distillation, of the Forest of Arden and therefore of Shakespeare and Englishness. For the noted nineteenth-century actress Ellen Terry, the figure of Rosalind proves Shakespeare's liberality, and that of his age, in regard to women:
Don't believe the anti-feminists if they tell you, as I was once told, that Shakespeare had to endow his women with virile qualities because in his theatre they were always impersonated by men! This may account for the frequency with which they masquerade as boys, but I am convinced it had little influence on Shakespeare's studies of women. They owe far more to the liberal ideas about the sex which were fermenting in Shakespeare's age. The assumption that 'the woman's movement' is of very recent date--something peculiarly modern--is not warranted by history. (38)
In this play, at least so long as we are within the Forest of Arden, we are at a far remove from early modern conduct books with their injunctions against womanly self-expression--far from the confining ethos of Petruchio the tamer and Katherine the suppliant in The Taming of the Shrew. Rosalind enacts the extremely durable cultural fantasy of England as a place of special freedom for women, a fantasy that may carry some element of reality if we credit observations by European contemporaries of Shakespeare, (39) but that also functions to sustain a split between an ideal of English womanhood and disturbing counter-examples in the actual treatment of women.
The delightful Rosalind is "free" to be playful, to exercise her verbal wit and enact her erotic desires in the Forest of Arden, because she has an innate sense of limit and proportion that keeps her from ever behaving inappropriately. Similarly, Sir Walter A. Raleigh contended in 1918 that the English language has a "great charter" as do English subjects, and that the "divine" freedom and plasticity of Shakespeare's language serve as the best exemplars of the essential freedom of England and things English. (40) Within Raleigh's colonial, First World War context, Rosalind's freedom is essentially the infinitely exportable freedom of Englishness to an empire of natives needing to be liberated from chaos and darkness through their association with the "great charter" of English identity. Orlando's love poetry associates Rosalind with a broader world of trade and exploration, (41) but she is the only "jewel" worth valuing, and her fame will travel the globe while she remains safely in Arden:
From the east to western Inde, No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. (3.2.88-91)
Even within the play, in other words, Rosalind is constructed as an ambassador-at-large whose loveliness and moral worth can be disseminated via language rather than by travel. Small wonder that As You Like It and its central figure of Rosalind were favorites with English educators in India: its lovely heroine won hearts for Shakespeare and therefore for England; with all her charm and persuasiveness, she operated as a figure of the anti-conquest. And for good measure, the play also displayed an array of colonial postures in a negative light through the ambiguous figure of Jaques. One of the play's many seductions is that it offers the cosy pleasure of contemplating a burgeoning world of colonization and world traffic from the bucolic safety of Arden, surrounded by the "inland bred" and close to the still-beating heart of Shakespeare.
(1.) Horace Howard Furness, ed., A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare: As You Like It (1890; repr. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1918). The term "anticonquest" in my title comes from Mary Louise Pratt, who defines it as "the strategies of representation whereby European bourgeois subjects seek to secure their innocence in the same moment as they assert European hegemony." Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (London: Routledge, 1992), 7. This article is extracted in revised form from a book manuscript in progress tentatively titled "How Shakespeare Became Colonial." I want to thank Jane Wanninger, Diana Henderson, and James Siemon for many helpful suggestions and corrections to the version printed here.
(2.) Tiffany Stern, Making Shakespeare: From Stage to Page (London: Routledge, 2004), 14.
(3.) See Lisa Hopkins, "Orlando and the Golden World: The Old World and the New in As You Like It," Early Modern Literary Studies 8 (2002): 2.1-21, http:// purl.oclc.org/emls/08-2/hopkgold.htm.
(4.) All Shakespeare citations not otherwise attributed are from The Riverside Shakespeare, ed. G. Blakemore Evans et al. 2nd ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1997).
(5.) Thomas Lodge, Rosalynde. Euphues golden legacie ... (London, 1590), sig. A2v.
(6.) See Juliet Dusinberre, ed, As You Like It (London: Arden, 2006), 48.
(7.) F. G. Fleay, The Land of Shakespeare (London: Bumpus, 1889), vii-iii.
(8.) See James Shapiro, Contested Will: Who Wrote Shakespeare (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2010), 7; https://groups.google.eom/forum/#laboutgroup/ ardenmanagers (Jan. 8, 2013); and In Arden: Editing Shakespeare, ed. Ann Thompson and Gordon McMullan (London: Arden Shakespeare, 2003).
(9.) See Michael Hattaway, ed., As You Like It (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 47; and Robert Smallwood, Shakespeare at Stratford: As You Like It (London: Arden Shakespeare, 2003), 1-2. All of this is not meant to suggest that the Forest of Arden is always idealized: "hard primitive" Ardens are common on stage and elsewhere; see for example, Smallwood, 54-62.
(10.) Fleay quotes and paraphrases Michael Drayton's Poly-Olbion (London: 1612), The thirteenth Song, 215. Drayton, however, states only that Warwickshire is equidistant from St. Michael's Mount in the extreme South and the Tweed, which marked the border with Scotland. Biographical information about Shakespeare's grandfather is from Jonathan Bate, Soul of the Age: A Biography of the Mind of William Shakespeare (New York: Random House, 2009), 30. See also Bate's discussion of Arden Forest, 30-39; Dusinberre, ed., 46-71; Hattaway, ed., 20-30; and Jonathan Bate and Dora Thornton, Shakespeare: Staging the World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 55-68.
(11.) See Jonathan Gil Harris, Sick Economies: Drama, Mercantilism, and Disease in Shakespeare's England (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004); and Ania Loomba, Shakespeare, Race, and Colonialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 7-11.
(12.) Margaret W. Ferguson, Dido's Daughters: Literacy, Gender, and Empire in Early Modern England and France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), 235-47; and Shankar Raman, Renaissance Literature and Postcolonial Studies (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011), 3. See also Hannah Wojciehowski's brilliant reading of the island status of Utopia in Sir Thomas More's Utopia in Group Identity in the Renaissance World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 128-77.
(13.) Cited in Loomba, Shakespeare, Race, and Colonialism, p. 8, from Thomas Platter's Travels in England, trans. Clare Williams (London: J. Cape, 1937), 170.
(14.) See Michael Hechter, Internal Colonialism: The Celtic Fringe in British National Development, 2nd ed. (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1999). Hechter's model is based on British attitudes towards its Celtic populations, especially in Ireland and Wales, and therefore considers the core to be the dominant culture and the periphery to be colonial. In As You Like It, the geographical paradigm is reversed in that, as I shall argue, the Forest of Arden at the center of England is imagined as the internally colonial space. Cf. also the discussion of racism and other byproducts of colonialism as "emerging out of nationalism, not only towards the exterior but towards the interior" in Etienne Balibar and Immanuel Wallerstein, Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous Identities (London: Verso, 1991), 53.
(15.) Cited in Hechter, xxviii; from L. P. Curtis, Jr., Anglo-Saxons and Celts (Bridgeport, CT: Published by the Conference on British Studies at the University of Bridgeport, 1968), 84.
(16.) See Epistles of the Brothers of Purity: The Case of the Animals versus Man Before the King of the Jinn, ed. and trans. Lenn E. Goodman and Richard McGregor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); Laurie Shannon, The Accommodated Animal: Cosmopolity in Shakespearean Locales (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013); Jean E. Feerick and Vin Nardizzi, eds., The Indistinct Human in Renaissance Literature (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012); and E. P. Evans, The Criminal Prosecution and Capital Punishment of Animals (1904; repr., Union, New Jersey: Lawbook Exchange, 1998).
(17.) Gomes Eannes de Azurara, The Chronicle of the Discovery of Guinea, trans. Charles Raymond Beazley (London: Hakluyt Society, 1896-97), 1.81; as cited in Geraldo U. de Sousa, Shakespeare's Cross-Cultural Encounters (London: Macmillan and St. Martin's Press, 1999), 5.
(18.) Oxford English Dictionary Online, http://www.oed.com/
(19.) Cited from Charlton Hinman, ed., The Norton Facsimile First Folio of Shakespeare (London: Paul Hamlyn, 1968), TLN 2126. Subsequent citations from the First Folio text will be to this version and indicated by through line numbers (TLN) in the text.
(20.) Ania Loomba, Shakespeare, Race, and Colonialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 16-17.
(21.) See, among many others, Raman, 142-51.
(22.) Louis Montrose, "The Work of Gender in the Discourse of Discovery," in New World Encounters, ed. Stephen Greenblatt (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 177-217. Image is on 178.
(23.) See Montrose's classic discussion of Ralegh in "The Work of Gender," above; and de Sousa, 10-39.
(24.) See Smallwood, pp. 68, 90-92, 97; and Anthony R. Dawson, "Watching Shakespeare," (1988); reprinted in Edward Tomarken, ed., As You Like It from 1600 to the Present: Critical Essays (New York: Garland, 1997), 581-90.
(25.) Stephen Greenblatt, Marvelous Possessions: The Wonder of the New World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 19.
(26.) See, for example, Stephen Greenblatt's discussion of early Spanish attitudes towards Aztec culture, Marvelous Possessions, 132-35: they admired the exquisite workmanship of the great towers and waterways, but they went on to destroy the city.
(27.) H. M. Percival, ed., As You Like It (Bombay: Longmans, Green, 1910), x, 122n; K. Deighton, ed., As You Like It (London: Macmillan, 1891), xxii.
(28.) Horace Howard Furness, ed., A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare: As You Like It (1890; repr., Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1918), 97-100n.; and Richard Knowles, A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare: As You Like It (New York: Modern Language Association of America, 1977), 106-7n. Citations that follow are identified as from Furness or Knowles in the text.
(29.) Charles Strachey, "Shakspere and the Romany: A Note on the Obscurities in As You Like It--Act. II Sc. 5," Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society 3 (1891): 96-99. Citation is on 97; Strachey quotes the introduction to H. T. Crofton and B. C. Smart, Dialect of the English Gypsies (2nd ed; London: Asher and Co., 1875), xvi.
(30.) Homi Bhabha, "Articulating the Archaic," in The Location of Culture (1994; repr., London: Routledge, 2004), 175-98. Citation is from 176-77.
(31.) The Letters of Sir Walter Raleigh (1879-1922), ed. Lady Raleigh (New York: Macmillan, 1926), 1.162 (from a letter of 11 October, 1891). For his recommendation of Strachey's thesis to others, see 2. 359 (a 1910 letter to George Gordon).
(32.) Leah S. Marcus, Unediting the Renaissance: Shakespeare, Marlowe, Milton (London: Routledge, 1996), 1-17.
(33.) Virgil, Georgies 3.539-40, cited from the Loeb Classical Library Virgil: Eclogues, Georgies, Aeneid I-VI, trans. H. Rushton Fairclough (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 214-15.
(34.) Quintilian: The Orator's Education, Books 9-10, ed. and trans. Donald A. Russell (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001), 98-101. See also Quintilian, Institutes of Oratory, ed. Lee Honeycutt, trans. John Selby Watson (Ames: Iowa State University, 2006), 9.3.6. http://rhetoric.eserver.org/quintilian/ 15 Jan., 2013.
(35.) See Dusinberre, ed., 56-58; Natalie Zemon Davis, "Women on Top: Symbolic Sexual Inversion and Political Disorder in Early Modern Europe," in Barbara A. Babcock, ed., The Reversible World: Symbolic Inversion in Art and Society (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1978), 147-89; David Underdown, Revel, Riot, and Rebellion: Popular Politics and Culture in England 1603-1660 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985); Peter Stallybrass, "'Drunk with the cup of liberty': Robin Hood, the Carnivalesque, and the Rhetoric of Violence in Early Modern England," in Nancy Armstrong and Leonard Tennenhouse, eds., The Violence of Representation: Literature and the History of Violence (London: Rutledge, 1989), 45-76; and Stallybrass, "Transvestism and the 'body beneath': Speculating on the Boy Actor?" in Susan Zimmerman, ed., Erotic Politics: Desire on the Renaissance Stage (London: Routledge, 1992), 64-83.
(36.) Kelly Oliver, Animal Lessons: How They Teach Us to Re Human (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), 150. See also Jacques Derrida, The Animal That Therefore I Am, ed. Marie-Louise Mallet, trans. David Wills (New York: Fordham University Press, 2008).
(37.) Jeffrey Masten, "Textual Deviance: Ganymede's Hand in As You Like It," in Field Work: Sites in Literary and Cultural Studies, ed. Marjorie Garber, Paul B. Franklin, and Rebecca L. Walkowitz (New York: Routledge, 1996), 153-63.
(38.) Cited in Dusinberre, ed., 140 from Ellen Terry, Four Lectures in Shakespeare, ed. Christopher St. John (London: Martin Hopkinson, 1932), 81.
(39.) See, for example, Emmanuel van Meteren, Belgische ofte Nederlantsch Historie (Delft, 1605), fob 221v-222r; and the comments of Frederick, Duke of Wirtemberg as reproduced in William Brenchley Rye, England as Seen by Foreigners in the Days of Elizabeth and James the First (London: John Russell Smith, 1865), 8.
(40.) Walter A. Raleigh, England and the War, being Sundry Addresses delivered during the war and now first collected by Walter Raleigh (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1918), 96.
(41.) On colonial references in the play, see Lisa Hopkins, n. 3 above.
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|Author:||Marcus, Leah S.|
|Article Type:||Critical essay|
|Date:||Jan 1, 2014|
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