Pescetti’s work, tedious as it is to the modern reader, was not without its attractions to the Elizabethan. An age which could produce “Polyolbions” could very well tolerate a “Cesare.” It was cast in the popular dramatic form, dealt with a popular theme, and above all, came from a land inseparably connected in the public mind with romance and tragedy. To the Elizabethan, “Ex Italia, semper aliquid novi.” That the work was probably known to English authors receives additional support from the use seemingly made of it by Sir William Alexander (Earl of Stirling) in his own “Tragedy of Julius Caesar.” Alexander’s work was issued about 1604–7. Of it, Dr. T. A. Lester says: “In general it may be said that Alexander follows GrÉvin, availing himself not only of GrÉvin’s original scenes, but also of GrÉvin’s non-Plutarchian order.... There can be little doubt that Alexander’s ‘Julius Caesar’ is nothing but GrÉvin’s ‘Cesar’ rewritten and enlarged.”[128] Alexander followed GrÉvin, but he did so with an admixture of Pescetti. Prof. H. M. Ayres claims that Alexander got his Prologue from the Hercules Furens of Seneca, substituting Caesar for Hercules as the object of Juno’s wrath. Pescetti’s Prologue is one of the curious things about his drama. Such an introduction is lacking in both Muretus and GrÉvin.[129] Possibly both Alexander and Pescetti got their idea from Seneca, but there are parallels in content between the two which are only faintly adumbrated in the Latin author. Juno’s censure of Jove’s amours in the Scotchman’s work bears a very close resemblance to the denunciations of Venus as recorded by the Italian. The threat of civil strife and discord are found in each. But more important is the fact that in certain scenes lacking in GrÉvin, there is a close parallel between Alexander and Pescetti. Thus, in the dialogue concerning Antony, Pescetti has: - Cas.—
- Parmi d’avere scorto in Marcantonio
Disio di dominar: perciÒ s’in tutto Vogliam la patria assicurar, spegniamo Anco lui col Tiranno, e fuor degli occhi Tragghiamci questo stecco, che potrebbe, Quando che sia, non poca briga darne. Che tu sai ben, quanto li siano amici I veterani, e quanto acconcio ei sia Gli animi a concitar del volgo insano. - Bru.—
- S’ad altri, oltre al Tiranno, darem morte,
Si stimerÀ dal volgo, che le cose Sempre stravolge, e falsamente espone, Che non disio di liberar la patria, Ma privato odio, e brama di vendetta A ciÒ sospinti n’abbia, e di quell’opra, Onde da noi s’attende eterna fama, N’acquisterem vergogna, e biasmo eterno: E dove nome di pietÀ cerchiamo, Sarem del titol d’empietÀ notati; NÈ perciÒ a noi gran fatto avrem giovato: - . . . . . . . . . . .
- In somma e’ non si deve
Punir, chi non hÀ errato, e a me non basta L’animo di dar morte a chi nocciuto Non m’hÀ, nÈ fatto ingiuria. - . . . . . . . . . . .
- Cas.—
- Bruto, tu se’ troppo pietoso; voglia
Il Ciel, che questa tua pietÀ non sia Un giorno a noi crudel. Nel risanare Dall’ ulcere nascenti i corpi il ferro, E ’l fuoco oprar convien, che tu ben sai, Che’l medico pietoso infistolisce La piaga, e spesso tutto il corpo infetta. In the “Tragedy of Julius Caesar” we read: - Cass.—
- . . . . .
There is Antonius, Caesars greatest friend, A man whose nature tyranny affects, Whom all the soldiers daily do attend, As one who nought but to command respects; - . . . . .
- And in my judgment I would thinke it best,
When sacrific’d the proud usurper lyes, That this seditious enemy of rest Should fall with him, with whom he first did rise: Thus, of our liberty we now may lay A solid ground, which can be shak’t by none; - . . . . .
- Brut.—
- I cannot, Cassius, condescend to kill,
(Thus from the path of justice to decline) One faultlesse yet, lest after he prove ill, So to prevent his guiltinesse by mine; No, no, that neither honest were, nor just, Which rigorous forme would but the world affright, Men by this meane, our meaning might mistrust, And for a little wrong damne all that’s right: If we do only kill the common foe, Our countries zeale must then acquire due praise But if (like tyrants) fiercely raging so, We will be thought that which we raze to raise; And where we but intend to aide the state, Though by endangering what we hold most deare, If slaying him (as arm’d by private hate) We to the world all partiall will appeare. - . . . . .
- Cass.—
- Well Brutus, I protest against my will,
From this black cloud, whatever tempest fall, That mercy but most cruelly doth kill, Which thus saves one, who once may plague us all. - Page 279 et seq., Glasgow ed., 1872.
This is not in GrÉvin, neither is the Brutus-Portia scene. Here again, there are significant points of contact. Alexander’s whole handling of the scene resembles Pescetti’s treatment, while in individual sections the parallels are almost verbal. Portia’s attitude throughout is reminiscent of Pescetti’s delineation. In both dramas the conspiracy is revealed to her; in both she proffers her help; in both she falls back on prayer as her best aid; in both the failure of the plot means her self-destruction.[130] She says: “Though nature, sexe, and education breed No power in me, with such a purpose even, I must lend help to this intended deed, If vows and pray’rs may penetrate the heaven; But difficulties huge my fancie findes, Nought, save the successe, can defray my feare: ‘Ah! fortune alwayes frownes on worthy mindes As hating all who trust in ought save her.’ Yet I despaire not but thou may’st prevaile, And by this course to ease my present grones, I this advantage have which cannot faile: I’ll be a free-man’s wife, or else be nones: For, if all prosper not as we pretend And that the heavens Romes bondage to decree, Straight with thy liberty my life shall end, Who have no comfort but what comes from thee; My father hath me taught what way to dye, By which if hindred from encountring death, Some other meanes, I (though more strange) must try; For after Brutus, none shall see me breathe.” (Tragedy of Julius Caesar, pp. 268–69, Vol. 2, Glasgow edition, 1872.) In Pescetti Portia says: “PiÙ volentier la man di ferro contra Il Tiranno armerei, che di preghiere La lingua, e’l cuor: ma poichÈ ciÒ mi niega Il sesso mio, con quel, ch’a me conviensi E lice, aiuterÒ la santa impresa.”—Ces., p. 32. “Ite, Ò forti, ite Ò saggi, ite Ò de gli alti Legnaggi, onde scendete, degni; il Cielo Secondi i desir vostri: Scorga, e regga Benigno i piedi, e le man vostre Giove, Tu vedi, Ò Porzia, in che periglio posta Del tuo consorte la salute sia. Or di mestier t’È preparar il petto A colpi della morte, s’egli avviene, Che’l Ciel (sia lunge ogni sinistro augurio) Contrasti a generosi suoi disegni. O libera convien, che viva, Ò chiugga Con glorioso fin degno del padre, E del marito tuo la vita: In questa Luce di padre libero venisti, Et a marito libero congiunta Vivesti, ch’ambo altieramente amaro Di piÙ tosto morir, che viver servi: Si che di spirti generosi, e maschi Arma il femminil petto, e’l cuor rinforza; Onde con fin del nascimento degno, E della vita tua la vita chiuda.”—Pp. 33–34. She says to Brutus: “Dell’ amor, ch’io ti porto, ancor potuto Non ho farti ben chiaro? E tu mi stimi Si poco amante, ch’io potessi senza TÈ star un ora in vita?”—P. 50. “Or tu non sai Quanto sovente a generosi sforzi Soglia fortuna ingiuriosa opporsi?”—P. 49. Following his lofty response she says: “ Tuttavia, benche lei[131] non vinca mai, Impedisce sovente i suoi disegni.”—P. 49. There is no historical warrant for Portia’s contemplated suicide at this time. In both dramas Brutus’ reply is the same in content: “Do not defraud the world of thy rare worth, But of thy Brutus the remembrance love; From this fair prison strive not to breake forth, Till first the fates have forc’d thee to remove.”—P. 269. In Pescetti, Brutus says: “Ma che accidente pensi tu, che possa Addivenir, ch’armar contra te stessa Le man ti stringa, e innanzi tempo l’alma Spigner del caro albergo?”—P. 49. “Ma non approvo GiÀ il tuo consiglio, e pregoti, per quanto Amor mi porti, ch’ À sÌ fiera voglia Dij del tuo petto bando, e l’ora aspetti Prefissa al tuo partir da questa vita.”—P. 50. Her “rare worth” is emphasized by Brutus: “Ma non consentirÀ Giove, che donna SÌ valorosa, e bella, a dar salute A mille altri atta, se medesma uccida.”—P. 52. Alexander also makes Cassius mention that Laena had accosted him, and expressed the wish that his desires might prosper, thus making Cassius suspect the conspiracy was discovered. This parallels Brutus’ experience in Pescetti. Decius refers to the banquet at the house of Lepidus and Caesar’s opinions on death. This is also mentioned in Pescetti. Alexander’s recital of Caesar’s perturbation, as he describes it in soliloquy, is too long to quote, but it is simply an echo of Calpurnia’s state of mind as revealed in Pescetti. If we can assume that Alexander was acquainted with Pescetti’s drama, as these parallels seem to indicate, we have no reason for supposing that it was unknown to the literati of his time. “Cesare” was popular enough to go through two editions in Italy. Alexander was a man of wide reading, but no more so than was Ben Jonson. Possibly Alexander was indebted to the latter for his knowledge of Pescetti’s work.[132] Alexander’s drama followed that of Shakespeare. If he knew Pescetti’s work some few years after the composition of Shakespeare’s drama, there is no reason to deny to Jonson, the most learned author of his day, a prior acquaintance. In this connection, the hypothesis advanced by Frederick Gard Fleay,[133] regarding the two-part nature of Shakespeare’s play, assumes new significance. According to him, “Julius Caesar” was originally written in two parts, “Caesar’s Tragedy” and “Caesar’s Revenge,” following a custom of the time, and that through some exigency the two were later merged into the play as we now have it. This is not the place to enter this controversy. Fleay presents his reasons, and among them the fact that in “Julius Caesar” the name Antony occurs without the h, contrary to Shakespeare’s custom in his other plays wherein the name occurs. It may be well to suggest here that the prevalent fondness for Italian names probably prompted the use of the name as found in Pescetti: Antonio or Marcantonio. But especially significant is Fleay’s surmise that it was Jonson who performed the merging of the two plays, and who is, therefore, responsible for the present form. If this be the case, it may well be that Jonson introduced “Cesare” to Shakespeare’s notice, for notwithstanding its tediousness, it was cast in a form which appealed to Ben’s classic taste. The hypothetical “Tragedy of Julius Caesar” could well have been inspired by Pescetti’s drama, for the first three acts of “Julius Caesar” as we have it now, form a satisfactory dramatic whole, and all of Shakespeare’s assumed indebtedness to the Italian is contained in these three acts. Jonson’s “Sejanus,” whose composition was probably prompted by the popularity of Shakespeare’s work in the same field, followed “Julius Caesar” in 1603. The friendly relations existing at this time between the two great dramatists is sufficiently attested by the fact that Shakespeare was one of the actors in Jonson’s tragedy. “Julius Caesar” as we now have it appears first in the 1623 folio; what alterations were made in the preceding twenty years are matters of speculation. Jonson was sufficiently interested in its success is strive to rival it along purely classic lines, while about the only criticism of a Shakespearean play that we possess from Ben deals with a speech in “Julius Caesar.”[134] It seems, therefore, within the bounds of probability that Jonson may have introduced “Cesare” to Shakespeare’s notice. There were, however, other means whereby Shakespeare may have become acquainted with “Cesare.” Much as we know of his wonderful age, we do not even now realize its vast and all-embracing activities, especially in literature. Translations by the score were made from the Italian.[135] Plagiarism, especially from foreign sources, was rampant; nor was such plagiarism decried.[136] Shakespeare may not have known Italian, yet the evidence to the contrary is steadily growing stronger. Italian was the fashion in his day; many of his colleagues had travelled in Italy; many knew the language. His patron, Southampton, spoke Italian fluently, while among his guests Italian scholars were conspicuous. Amid such surroundings it is well-nigh inconceivable that Shakespeare failed to come into intimate contact with the Italian literature of the day. Recent research renders it almost positive that he not only did, but that he was sufficiently versed in the language to read the literature in the original tongue. We marvel at his intimate descriptions of Italian life, explicable, apparently, only on the supposition that he was an eye-witness of the scenes he describes. We wonder at the familiarity with Italian authors evident upon a close examination of his work. Brandes, in his study of Othello[137] calls attention to several portions of that drama, which both in content and expression, form too close a parallel to the Italian of Ariosto and Berni to be accidental. More recently, Professor Carlo SegrÉ[138] has pointed to places in Othello explicable only upon the supposition that Shakespeare was intimately acquainted with the Italian version of Cinthio. “SegrÉ disagrees with Sidney Lee, who avers that Shakespeare borrowed from Italian sources, only bare outlines and general ideas which lent themselves to his scheme, and that these in his masterly hands were so arranged and reconstructed as to be almost unrecognizable. In SegrÉ’s opinion, Shakespeare studied the Italian literature, not only with the analysis of a man of letters, but also with the careful attention and open mind of a poet, for the benefit he drew from these sources was chosen with consummate art and critical skill, according to what seemed most useful to him in the exercise of his marvellous gifts.”[139] As we have seen, Shakespeare’s procedure with “Cesare” differed in no essentials from his usual method. Even if Shakespeare knew no Italian, it was still possible for him to become fairly familiar with “Cesare.” Shakespeare was a dramatist because the drama was profitable. Like a keen playwright, he studied the taste of his public. The story of Caesar was no new one to theatre-goers. Other plays on the subject had met with success. The chronicle history had had its day, and with its waning popularity Shakespeare turned to that hazy, romantic epoch in history when Rome was mistress of the world; for in his day Rome’s name still loomed large in the imagination of mankind. The great dramatist never scrupled to appropriate the efforts of others, when, by the transforming power of his genius, he might use them to further the success of his own work. The more we know of the Elizabethan world, the more modern it seems to us. No doubt, in those days as in these, theatrical managers were ever on the lookout for promising material. Perhaps Jonson did not introduce “Cesare” to his notice, yet what was to prevent Shakespeare’s employing lowly but learned hacks to investigate plays or other works, both native and foreign, which promised to provide adequate material for his own dramas? There is nothing startlingly novel in this assumption, although it seems to have been overlooked in the discussions concerning the poet’s linguistic knowledge. It had been done before; it was done afterwards. Association and collaboration were common. What one man lacked another supplied. Why did Henslowe, in 1602, commission Munday, Drayton, Webster, Middleton, and “the rest,” to write a “sesers falle”? Why so many to write one play? No doubt many an old drama was ransacked for material, many an ancient source laid under contribution, many a verbal jewel or entire scene torn from its setting to grace the new production. Shakespeare, employing scholarly searchers, who brought to his notice whatever they considered valuable in the material they investigated, had no need of knowing various languages. He wanted the ideas; his imagination provided the rest. There was no lack of books. The late Professor J. Churton Collins, in his consideration of Shakespeare as a classical scholar, says: “The collection of books was not only the fashion, but the passion of the age. His friend Ben Jonson had one of the finest private libraries in England, so had Camden and Cotton, and their liberality in lending books was proverbial. He could have had books from the library of Southampton and through Southampton from the libraries of others of the nobility. The magnificent collection of Parker at Lambeth would have been open to him, as well as the collection at Gresham College. There was the Queen’s library at Whitehall, well stored according to Hentzner, who visited it in 1598, with Greek, Latin, Italian, and French books. What afterwards formed the nucleus of the Bodleian at Oxford, which contains, by the way, an Aldine Ovid, with his name in autograph, to all appearances genuine, on the title-page, was during the last decade of the sixteenth century almost within a stone’s throw of the Black Friars Theatre.”[140]
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