William Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet (c. 1595)
Is it e'en so? Then I defy you, stars!
There
is a tragic point at which all common sense says: it's a million to one
against, so you might as well give up.
This is the moment when love has to depart from this common sense, whose negative conclusions are death warrants.
When only a miracle can restore what you love, it becomes necessary to set about creating the conditions for a miracle.
And "Nede hath no lawe".
This is the moment when love has to depart from this common sense, whose negative conclusions are death warrants.
When only a miracle can restore what you love, it becomes necessary to set about creating the conditions for a miracle.
And "Nede hath no lawe".
*
- Ese problema… ¿no será el de “Romeo y Julieta”?
¿Es que sus familias no están de acuerdo en esa boda?
The
“situation” in Romeo and Juliet is a
formidable statement, with the force of folktale, but it belongs to a much
larger class of stories of in which social forces stand in the way of a
wished-for marriage between two lovers. In most cultures parents have wished to
have a say in their child’s choice of a mate. Perhaps the most usual case in
real life is when there is some perceived difference in social class, when B is
“beneath” what is due to A’s family. In that respect Romeo
and Juliet idealizes. Here, so far as class goes (“both alike in dignity”)
the pair could hardly be more eligible for each other. They are perfectly
matched in every respect but one, a historic enmity whose details never concern
us – an arbitrary enmity. This is difficult for us to relate to, and Jerome
Robbins was the visionary who in 1949 saw that the story could be about a
cultural and ethnic clash: originally, he imagined a Roman Catholic Tony and a
Jewish Maria, but as West Side Story developed
the Jets became N. European-American and the Sharks Puerto Rican. This is such
a natural transformation of the story that we tend to try and retro-fit it to Romeo and Juliet, but Shakespeare
follows Brooke in making both families entirely Veronese (whatever unspecific
thing this evoked for him) – though Tybalt does say, intriguingly, “This by his
voice should be a Montague”.
The enmity
between the Montagues and the Capulets lacks the drive of ethnic/cultural
antipathy; it also lacks an economic angle (such as we learnt to enjoy in that
child of West Side Story, The Godfather). The family hostility imagined by Shakespeare is very unlike a feud or a
vendetta, which would be patriarchally driven and enforced as duty. Here, on the
contrary, old Capulet and (probably) old Montague are merely
embarrassed by their legacy. Where the hostility still flourishes is among the younger men and the junior followers. It's far more like urban tribes than
we might have expected. Some have inferred conclusions from this that tend to
disparage the actions of the lovers and their unfortunate outcomes; they say that the lovers should not have acted against their families, that everyone would have come round in time. This is to
revert unexpectedly to the moralistic stance of Brooke’s preface of 1562:
A coople of unfortunate
lovers, thralling themselves to unhonest desire, neglecting the authoritie and
advise of parents and frendes, conferring their principall counsels with
dronken gossyppes, and superstitious friers (the naturally fitte instruments of
unchastitie) attemptyng all adventures of peryll, for thattayning of their
wished lust, usyng auriculer confession (the kay of whoredome, and treason) for
furtheraunce of theyr purpose, abusyng the honorable name of lawefull mariage,
the cloke the shame of stolne contractes, finallye, by all meanes of unhonest
lyfe, hastyng to most unhappye deathe.
This is not
where Brooke’s poem intends to leave us: he leaves a mixed impression, which is what Shakespeare also achieves, though with much greater subtlety. In Shakespeare’s play the dazzle of
summer energies produces a range of flowers, of which love is one and violence
another; it is truly about society but not in the same sort of way that West Side Story is.
*
In Act I Scene 2 Capulet advisesParis
to contemplate the other beauties at his soirée, not just Juliet; later in the
scene Benvolio gives similar advice to Romeo: don’t just mope after Rosaline,
but take a look around. Capulet is not a tyrannical father (“My will to her
consent is but a part”); Lady Capulet in Scene 3 is considerably more pushy,
but Juliet – with no feeling of love in her breast, as yet, - emphasizes her dutiful obedience as a pretext
for holding herself back:
*
In Act I Scene 2 Capulet advises
But no more deep will I endart
mine eye
Than your consent gives
strength to make it fly.
However,
love is in the air. The parents have in effect licensed it, and Juliet allows
that license to open her heart, though not in the direction that her parents
plan. In Love’s Labour’s Lost a similar seasonal, masquing impulse had
caused all the young men and young women to fall in love, very neatly into
non-overlapping couples. Here, however, an older set look back on love: the Nurse, Lady Capulet, the worldly-wise Mercutio,
Capulet sentimentally (“’Tis gone, ‘tis gone…”). Everyone’s talking about it,
but where, for this pair of youths, is the real thing? Society, right down to
the serving-men, is busy with the apparatus of a setting for love. Tybalt
understands the solemnity as a distinctly family affair, a social ritual that a
hostile outsider would naturally scorn; in effect, he betrays his consciousness
of its intimacy. But Romeo sees himself, self-conscious lover, as different
from the “light of heart” who will enjoy a dance. Mercutio wittily
discountenances Romeo’s foreboding dream.
So what
happens to Romeo and Juliet is the old old story, across a crowded room, love
in the air, all those clichés, but it is in contrast to the simulacra of love
that the story surrounds them with, for them it is specific, it is love for a
particular person.
But love is
a funny thing because the person you care about doesn’t mean anything like the
same to the people around you. Unsurprisingly, we older readers (and most of us
are going to be older than Romeo and Juliet) end up, in a way, dissing the
centre of the story, them. We take
more interest in the other characters, we look elsewhere for our involvement,
because these lovers are set against this background of older people and of
society in motion. Some are more interested in the (entirely self-invented)
story of Romeo’s search for the lost father-figure/moral-authority Mercutio
than in Romeo’s current love interest – as if Juliet is just the new Rosaline
or whoever.
When Romeo
says “He jests at scars that never felt a wound”, we take it with a trace of
irony against the speaker, we think he does not know anything about other
people’s scars, and we note avuncularly the self-absorption of the young. We
see him instead as the exercise of the will in a particular phase of a larger, seasonal,
cosmic pattern:
The earth that’s nature’s
mother is her tomb:
What is her burying grave,
that is her womb;
Or
Two such opposed kings encamp
them still
In man as well as herbs: grace
and rude will;
Listening
to Friar Lawrence, we place Romeo among these generalities. When Mercutio ribs
Romeo in his social role merely as a devotee to Love, but is indifferent to
(and, in fact, mis-identifies) the individual whom Romeo loves, then we see how
this generalizing becomes wrong and irrelevant.
It’s
not like any other love,
this
one is different, because it’s us.
Much of Romeo and Juliet is about carving out that individual space within an
indifferent society.
*
Or rather,
failing to carve it out; but the lovers in the story are doomed, not so much by
compelling circumstance as by the pre-existence of the story, which ends with
their deaths. Most of Shakespeare’s plays have a source-text, but none follows
its source more closely than this one. And Brooke’s poem belongs to the
mid-century in spirit.
For never was a story of more
woe
Than this of Juliet and her
Romeo.
This is
true. The sheer bad luck of Romeo not receiving the vital message and of
killing himself just before Juliet wakes is heart-wrenching, because of our
poignant awareness that his soul trembles on the brink, (if only Juliet would
wake up NOW), of a bliss as
seeming-miraculous as Leontes’ when the statue of Hermione comes to life.
Instead, the lovers are united not in bliss but in despair, having the rare
distinction of each being able to die heart-broken for the other’s death.
However,
this extremity of woe and the prettily contrived situation that produces it belongs
to a literary taste that Shakespeare was fast outgrowing. Brilliantly as he
manages the final scene, you can detect a tension between Shakespeare and the
story, very easily of course in hindsight when the play of ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’ in A Midsummer Night’s Dream makes
hilarious mockery of this very artifice. We don’t quite believe that the deaths
of these young lovers would really heal up mutual distrust between two families
– it would be more likely to inflame it, each blaming the other.
Shakespeare’s
main addition to the plot of this final scene is Romeo’s killing of Paris . Romeo, not knowing
who Paris is,
does try to spare him. But he calls himself a madman, and before that
“savage-wild”. Woe is not wholly an appropriate reaction to a scene of wild
exaltation in which each lover responds to the silent summons of the other, and
in which both Tybalt and Paris are generously invited to participate in a fatal fruition of
youthfully savage passions. Their story, Romeo's and Juliet's I mean, remains distinct and isolated from the woeful matter that the two families will remember.
*
As everyone
knows, youth and age are central themes in Romeo and Juliet,
and Shakespeare makes Brooke’s young Juliet two years younger still, to ensure
we take the point. To accuse these lovers of lack of judgment is inappropriate.
Nor do they have much to say to each other; or rather, they have a great deal,
but Shakespeare adapts for them a sonnet language which registers emotions and
does not pretend to be naturalistic. When it comes to talking about something the lovers revert flatly
to practicalities. They are not chockfull of learning or philosophy or small-talk.
They do not debate or discuss.
Hence Shakespeare simply glides past the
one point in the action when they have something very serious to discuss, i.e.
when Romeo has just killed Juliet’s cousin. The next time
we see them together (III V), they have already said whatever needed to be
said, and now are once more united in love and in suffering a parting. In fact throughout the play their conversation (which is really not the right word for it) is remarkably restricted.
First,
there are the 18 lines of their meeting in I V: trance-like, magical, formal. Then, the
great duet when time seems to stand still in II II – 193 lines, of which 135
are actual conversation, because the early part is Romeo hearing Juliet covertly.
Third, the brief meeting before their marriage in II VI, around 20 lines in
Friar Lawrence’s presence, of which only 11 involve directly speaking to each
other. And finally the too brief aubade of III V, which ends so swiftly and in
such painful contrast to the balcony scene – “Dry sorrow drinks our blood.
Adieu, adieu” (III V 59). In all, less
than 300 lines from a total of nearly 3,000. Obviously, the lovers find it hard
to meet. But besides, there is nothing they really have to say – not even that
they love each other, because that announces itself just in the
atmosphere they inhabit when they're together. Shakespeare did not know the metaphors
of electricity or chemistry, but he knew about the thing they refer to.
The long
conversation in II II is much concerned with the name Romeo, Romeo’s daring,
Romeo’s danger. Juliet manifests her love for Romeo in trustingly using his
name; she thus accepts him as a close presence in her life, as close as her
family. Romeo on the other hand does not call her by her name at all; that name
is for soliloquy. His awed respect instead comes out as “fair maid”, “Lady”,
“love” – even in that last, with a faint tincture of possession. When, about to
be married, he calls her “Juliet”, there is a slight awkwardness in the speech,
which she reacts to. In their final conversation, both already harrowed by
misfortune, their use of “love” to each other loses all sense of proprietary
ownership. They know themselves to be, though married, quite outside the social
structures of possession. They now seek only the security of companionship on a
dark journey that will not end in this world.
Labels: William Shakespeare
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