I have looked into many an edition of Shakspeare, but I have not found
one that traced the connexion that I fancy exists between the lines--
_Cassius._ "I did not think you could have been so angry."
_Brutus._ "O Cassius! I am sick of many griefs."
or between
_Brutus._ "No man bears sorrow better.--Portia is dead."
_Cassius._ "How 'scaped I killing when I crossed you so!"
_Julius Cæsar_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
which will perhaps better suit the object that I have in view. The
editors whose notes I have examined probably thought the connexion so
self-evident or insignificant as not to require either notice or
explanation. If so, I differ from them, and I therefore offer the
following remarks for the _amusement_ rather than for the _instruction_
of those who, like myself, are not at all ashamed to confess that they
cannot read Shakspeare's music "_at sight_." I believe that both
_Replies_ contain an allusion to the fact that _Anger, grafted on
sorrow, almost invariably assumes the form of frenzy; that it is in
every sense of the word "Madness," when the mind is unhinged, and
reason, as it were, totters from the effects of grief_.
Cassius had but just mildly rebuked Brutus for making no better use of
his philosophy, and now--startled by the sudden sight of his bleeding,
mangled heart--"Portia is--Dead!" pays involuntary homage to the very
philosophy he had so rashly underrated by the exclamation--
"How 'scaped I _killing_ when I crossed you so!"
I wish, if possible, to support this view of the case by the following
passages:--
I. Romeo's address to Balthasar.
"But if thou ... roaring sea."
II. His address to Paris.
"I beseech thee youth ... away!"
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act v. Sc. 3.
III. "The poor father was ready to fall down dead; but he
grasped the broken oar which was before him, jumped up, and
called in a faltering voice,--'Arrigozzo! Arrigozzo!' This was
but for a moment. Receiving no answer, he ran to the top of the
rock; looked at all around, ran his eye over all who were safe,
one by one, but could not find his son among them. Then seeing
the count, who had so lately been finding fault {276} with his
son's name, he roared out,--'Dog, are you here?' And,
brandishing the broken oar, he rushed forward to strike him on
the head. Bice uttered a cry, Ottorino was quick in warding off
the blow; in a minute, Lupo, the falconer, and the boatmen,
disarmed the frantic man; who, striking his forehead with both
hands, gave a spring, and threw himself into the lake.
"He was seen fighting with the angry waves, overcoming them with
a strength and a courage which desperation alone can
give."--_Marco Viconti_, vol. i. chap. 5.
IV. A passage that has probably already occurred to the mind of the
reader, Mucklebackit mending the cable in which his son had been lost:
"'There is a curse either on me or on this auld black bitch of a
boat, that I have hauled up high and dry, and pitched and
clouted sae mony years, that she might drown my poor Steenie at
the end of them, an' be d----d to her!' And he flung his hammer
against the boat, as if she had been the intentional cause of
his misfortune"--_Antiquary_, vol. ii. chap. 13. Cadell, 1829.
V. "Giton præcipuè, _ex dolore in rabiem efferatus_, tollit
clamorem, me, utrâque manu impulsum, præcipitat super
lectum."--Petron. _Arb. Sat._ cap. 94.
The classical reader will at once recognise the force of the words
"rabiem," "efferatus," "præcipitat," in this passage. The expression
"utrâque manu" may not at first sight arrest his attention. It seems
always used to express the most intense eagerness; see
"Ijecit utramque laciniæ manum."--Pet. _Arb. Sat._ 14.
"Utrâque manu Deorum beneficia tractat."--Ib. 140.
"Upon which Menedemus, incensed at his insolence,
answered,--'Nothing is more necessary than the preservation of
Lucullus;' and thrust him back _with both hands_."--Plutarch,
_Life of Lucullus_.
"Women have a sort of natural tendency to cross their husbands:
they lay hold _with both hands_ [à deux mains] on all occasions
to contradict and oppose them, and the first excuse serves for a
plenary justification."--Montaigne, _Essays_, book 2. chap. 8.
"Marmout, deceived by the seemingly careless winter attitude of
the allies, left Ciudad Rodrigo unprotected within their reach
and Wellington jumped _with both feet_ upon the devoted fortress
of Napier," _Pen. War_, vol. iv. p. 374.
Any apology for the unwarrantable length of this discursive despatch,
would, of course, only make matters worse.