24/7 customer support
Professional writers
No plagiarism
Privacy guarantee
Affordable prices
94% of return customers
Free title page
Free bibliography
Free formatting
Free of plagiarism
Free delivery
| Home |
| Order form |
| Contact us |
| Blog |
| Male Friendship |
| One of the dominant motifs of Renaissance literature is the ideal of profound friendship between men. This theme pervades Shakespeare’s plays, but always with intriguing variations on the nobility of two men whose spiritual and emotional bond supersedes worldly concerns. In some works, Shakespeare presents this relationship as having no sexual overtones, but in others we cannot be certain whether homoerotic elements are present. In either case, Shakespeare dramatizes how even a deep attachment is vulnerable to the changeability of life. One of the dominant motifs of Renaissance literature is the ideal of profound friendship between men. This theme pervades Shakespeare’s plays, but always with intriguing variations on the nobility of two men whose spiritual and emotional bond supersedes worldly concerns. In some works, Shakespeare presents this relationship as having no sexual overtones, but in others we cannot be certain whether homoerotic elements are present. In either case, Shakespeare dramatizes how even a deep attachment is vulnerable to the changeability of life. In Julius Caesar, Cassius and Brutus have been friends since boyhood. Their mutual affection has been strained, however, by Cassius’s desire to wrest power from Caesar and Brutus’s reluctance to participate in a coup. As the pair discuss the matter, Cassius turns Brutus’s every comment into an opportunity to continue persuasion. For instance, when Brutus reacts to a roar from the unseen crowd: “I do fear the people/ Choose Caesar for their king” (I, ii, 79–80), Cassius pounces: “Ay, do you fear it?/ Then must I think you would not have it so” (I, ii, 80). When Brutus claims: “…I love/ The name of honor more than I fear death” (I, ii, 88–89), Cassius follows at once: “Well, honor is the subject of my story” (I, ii, 92). Cassius then begins the temptation of Brutus, playing on the latter’s ego by harkening back through Roman history to a legendary grandeur that Cassius knows Brutus reveres: O! you and I have heard our fathers say There was a Brutus once that would have brook’d Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king. (I, ii, 158–161) Just as Cassius anticipates, Brutus accepts the compliments: “That you do love me, I am nothing jealous…” (I, ii, 162). But when Brutus leaves to contemplate further, Cassius reveals his intentions: Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet I see Thy honorable mettle may be wrought From that it is dispos’d; therefore it is meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduc’d? (I, ii, 308–312) At these words, we ask whether Cassius and Brutus were ever as close as they claim, or have circumstances so contorted Cassius’s values that he is willing to manipulate and betray his best friend? Their alliance faces greater strain when the conspirators plan the assassination of Caesar. Brutus seeks to maintain what he sees as the high-minded goals of their mission, insisting, for instance, that Antony be spared. Cassius remains unconvinced: “Yet I fear him,/ For in the in-grafted love he bears to Caesar—” (II, i, 183–184). When Brutus does not let him even finish the thought, Cassius must relent. He finds doing so more difficult after the murder of Caesar, when Brutus, still seeking to act “honorably,” allows Mark Antony to euologize Caesar’s body after Brutus has spoken. Cassius anticipates disaster: You know not what you do. Do not consent That Antony speak in his funeral. Know you how much the people may be mov’d By that which he will utter. (III, i, 232–235) Brutus, though, is immoveable, and again we wonder if the longstanding friendship of which these two speak was ever as profound as they have suggested. The more they talk, the more Brutus seems to be the prestigious one and Cassius the manipulator, trading on amity with Brutus to elevate himself. By the end of the play, their relationship lies in tatters. With the forces of Cassius and Brutus fighting the armies of Antony for possession of Rome, the two friends are beset by squabbling over tactics. First Brutus accuses Cassius of bribery: Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn’d to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. (IV, iii, 9–12) Cassius defends himself, but the two are reduced to quarrelling like small boys until Brutus dismisses Cassius: “Away, slight man” (IV, iii, 37). Cassius has no choice but to accept such humiliation. It grows greater when the two disagree over military tactics. Cassius, quite reasonably, wants to keep his army rested and to let the enemy come to them (IV, iii, 199–201). Brutus, however, advocates retreating, even though his soldiers will end up battling on two fronts (IV, iii, 203–212). Cassius tries to sway Brutus: “Hear me, good brother” (IV, iii, 212). Yet Brutus remains as resolute as ever, and such tactics reduce Cassius to helpless resignation: Now, most noble Brutus, The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may, Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! (V, i, 92–94) This line suggests that Cassius has, or once did have, genuine affection for Brutus. In any case, events have placed unsupportable burdens on that friendship, which thereafter collapses. We see a different version of male friendship in Twelfth Night, when Sebastian is stranded in Illyria with his good friend, Antonio. Sebastian believes that his twin sister, Viola, has been drowned, and is determined to go to the court of Duke Orsino. Antonio, however, is equally resolved to serve his friend, to whom he proclaims total devotion: The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino’s court, Else would I very shortly see thee there. But come what may, I do adore thee so That danger shall seem sport, and I shall go. (II, i, 44–49) The intensity of this attachment appears to be at least partly sexual, and in a play where Viola masks herself as a boy, and sexual attraction subsequently becomes a matter of considerable confusion, crossover between genders in terms of physical love would be appropriate. Indeed, when these two men next appear before us, Antonio’s declaration of love is, if anything, more ardent: I could not stay behind you. My desire (More sharp than filed steel) did spur me forth… (III, iii, 4–5) The depth of Antonio’s passions becomes evident when he rushes to the defense of Viola (whom he mistakes for Sebastian) as she duels with the money-hungry Sir Andrew, who has been egged on by his crony, Sir Toby Belch. In response to Sir Toby’s query as to who Antonio himself is, the intruder replies: One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. (III, iv, 316–317) Although Antonio knows that he faces danger by exposing his identity in Illyria, he willingly does so to save the man he loves. Thus when Viola, not surprisingly, fails to recognize Antonio, his pain is profound: But O, how vild an idol proves this god! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature, there’s no blemish but the mind; None can be call’d deformed but the unkind. (III, iv, 365–368) His sense of betrayal is palpable. Later he articulates his affections more clearly, explaining why he rescued the person he thought was Sebastian: For his sake Did I expose myself (pure for his love) Into the danger of this adverse town, Drew to defend him when he was beset… (V, i, 82–85) When Orsino inquires as to when Sebastian came to Illyria, Antonio explains their relationship: To-day, my lord, and for three months before, No, int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company. (V, i, 94–96) Despite the intensity of this passion, Antonio is bound to be left alone, for in a comedy, we expect the men and women to match up, as most do here. Therefore, when all identities are revealed, Orsino leaves with Viola, and the countees Olivia with Sebastian. True, Antonio may exit with these couples, but we are aware that his love goes unrequited. Thus the affection of one man for another, however heartfelt it may be, defers to love between a man and a woman. A less dignified portrayal of male love is dramatized is Troilus and Cressida. This play mocks just about every human institution, so we should not be surprised that the friendship between the greatest of Greek heroes, Achilles, and Patroclus, another Greek commander, should be equally disparaged. In The Iliad, from which much of the material in Troilus and Cressida was drawn, Patroclus and Achilles share a noble alliance. In this play, though, Patroclus is universally scorned as Achilles’ lover, as Patroclus himself admits to Achilles: A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath’d than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn’d for this; They think my little stomach to the war And your great love to me, restrains you thus. (III, iii, 217–221) To this confession, Achilles assents: I see my reputation is at stake, My fame is shrowdly gor’d. (III, iii, 227–228) The relationship is later derogated by Thersites, the cynical Greek, whose contempt for everyone and everything sets the bitter tone for this play. To Patroclus’s face, Thersites calls him Achilles’ “masculine whore” (V, i, 17), but Achilles later demonstrates his affection for Patroclus when the young man’s death finally rouses Achilles to action against the Trojan hero Hector, whom he derides as “thou boy-queller” (V, v, 45). The implication of his fury, like so much of the military conflict in this play, is that it emerges from frustrated sexuality. As Thersites contemptuously comments: “Lechery, lechery, still wars and lechery, nothing else holds fashion” (V, ii, 194–195). Thus here male love is reduced to the same base level as all other forms of affection. The situation is more complicated in The Merchant of Venice, which begins with the merchant Antonio’s unexplained melancholy. His comrades, Salerio and Solanio, first hypothesize that he worries about his ships at sea, but Antonio rejects that explanation. When they postulate that he is in love, however (I, i, 46), he quickly denies even the possibility of such a condition. But with the entrance of his friend Bassanio, Antonio becomes quietly impassioned. Bassanio admits: “To you, Antonio I owe the most in money and love” (I, i, 130–131). Still, he does not appreciate the depth of Antonio’s answer to Bassanio’s request for a favor: I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it, And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honor, be assur’d My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lies all unlock’d to your occasions. (I, i, 135–139) Bassanio then extols the virtues of Portia, the woman in Belmont whom he desires to marry, and requests that Antonio lend him enough money that Bassanio may pursue her. Antonio consents, but Bassanio remains oblivious to Antonio’s overtures, and we sense Antonio’s frustration (I, i, 177–185). When the pair solicit funds from Shylock, the Jewish moneylender, Antonio turns surprisingly vicious, and his hatred takes over his demeanor. One reason that the two share a mutual antagonism is that both are, in their own way, outsiders, whose only recourse is devotion to money. Shylock is alienated because of his religion. He hates and is hated by the Christian world around him, and his distaste manifests itself in a scorn for social interaction. He despises, for instance, all masques and revels, as he says to his daughter, Jessica: “Let not the sound of shallow fopp’ry enter/ My sober house” (II, v, 35–36). Antonio, too, is isolated, for his devotion to Bassanio, whether sexual or not, does not fit into the world of Venice, and thus no matter how much money he acquires, his love remains unfulfilled, and he lives in bitterness. The extent to which the two are similiar may be seen in Portia’s remark in the later trial scene, when she enters, sees the two men, and demands: “Which is the merchant here? and which the Jew”? (IV, i, 174). The extent of Antonio’s unhappiness is apparent after his ships have failed to return, and he is unable to repay Shylock, who demands the promised bond: a pound of Antonio’s flesh. Prior to the trial, Antonio sends Bassanio a plaintive letter, bewailing his plight, yet not seeking any defense. Rather, he explains: …all debts are clear’d between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. (III, ii, 318–322) Antonio’s tone suggests that if Bassanio will come to watch him die, then Antonio will be satisfied, as if knowledge that Bassanio will always be haunted by Antonio’s sacrifice would make death bearable. During the trial itself, as accusations and pleas fly back and forth, Antonio is curiously passive: I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me. You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio, Than to live still and write mine epitaph. (IV, i, 114–118) Comparing himself to a castrated sheep, Antonio again seems detached from his plight, as if he would welcome death. The implication of both passages is that for Antonio, life without Bassanio, now married to Portia, is not worth living. At the end of the trial, after Shylock’s refusal to back down from his demand and Portia’s subsequent intervention, Antonio escapes, having exacted all of Shylock’s money and humiliated him further by forcing him to become a Christian. Still, the ending of the play is unsatisfying for Antonio, for Bassanio leaves with Portia, joined by the other couples (Nerissa and Gratiano, Jessica and Lorenzo), leaving Antonio alone again. His last lines (V, i, 286–288) suggest that his only solace will be money, hardly enough for one who clearly longs for love. Perhaps the one male friendship in Shakespeare’s plays that seems satisfactory to both partners may be found in a work where hardly anything else appears balanced: Hamlet. The relationship in question is between Hamlet and Horatio, who first appear together at the end of Hamlet’s first brooding soliloquy: “But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue” (I, ii, 159). His isolation from everyone else in court adds to his suffering over the death of his father and his mother’s marriage to her husband’s brother, Claudius. When, however, he recognizes Horatio, Hamlet’s manner changes (I, ii, 161), and the two openly discuss matters of the court. Horatio even becomes Hamlet’s confidant about the existence of the Ghost and Hamlet’s subsequent plan “To put an antic disposition on…” (I, v, 172). Hamlet must also confide his reasons for having a revised script of “The Murder of Gonzago” performed for the King, so after Claudius rushes out of the presentation, Hamlet eagerly seeks Horatio’s confirmation: “O good Horatio, I’ll take the ghost’s word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive?” (III, ii, 286–287). Horatio also serves as Hamlet’s sounding board in the graveyard, when the Prince, gradually reconciling himself to his inability to carry out the Ghost’s orders for revenge, picks up the jester Yorick’s skull and broods on the meaninglessness of all human endeavour (V, i, 182–212). At the end of the play, when all the principals lie dead, Horatio is left to carry on. Hamlet urges him not to take the felicitous escape of an early death, but to remain to tell Hamlet’s story (V, ii, 342–348). Horatio does so to the conquering Norwegian general Fortinbras, but omits Hamlet’s instructions for the deaths of Hamlet’s former friends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. The oversight is understandable; Horatio’s affection for Hamlet overpowers all other emotions. So much else takes place in Hamlet that the friendship between Hamlet and Horatio may seem incidental, but that relationship provides the ballast in Hamlet’s life, the one calming influence amid the chaos of Elsinore. Then, too, Horatio makes no demands on Hamlet, but is content to support his friend through a terrible ordeal. The other male friendships considered in this chapter, whether we view them as homoerotic or not, are burdened impossibly by forces that surround them. Thus in Shakespeare’s plays, male friendship remains a goal worth striving for and a relationship that offers singular rewards, yet an ideal almost impossible to achieve. |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
24/7 customer support
Written from scratch papers only
Any citation style
Fully referenced
Never resold papers
275 words per page Courier New font