As You Like Ireland, Shakespeare’s Take

I read William Shakespeare’s As You Like It with my mom, for our book club. Of particular interest, was not only the Bard’s wise words about love, nature, fortune and feuding families but also what he revealed about Ireland in brief passages. I have to admit that I felt a certain hesitancy about what an English writer, even one as gifted as Shakespeare, would write about Ireland given the prejudices of the day. Shakespeare wrote As You Like It in 1623. In Ireland, the 17th century saw the confiscation of land in favor of estates and the rise of Oliver Cromwell.

It is Rosalind who speaks of Ireland in a curious manner (at least to me in 2022). But before hearing what she says, one must first understand who she is. No Fear Shakespeare: As You Like It describes her as:

The heroine of the play. Rosalind is the daughter of the exiled Duke Senior and the constant companion of her cousin Celia. She is independent-minded, strong-willed, good-hearted, and terribly clever. Rather than slink off into defeated exile, Rosalind resourcefully uses her trip to the Forest of Arden as an opportunity to take control of her own destiny. When she disguises herself as Ganymede, a handsome young man, and offers herself as a tutor in the ways of love to her beloved Orlando, Rosalind’s talents and charms are on full display… (ix)

Before she does this, however, she opines about certain Irish inhabitants, namely rats. She speaks to Celia, referring to the love poems her besotted suitor, Orlando, has left on the trees in the forest:

I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came, for look here what I found on a palm tree. I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. (3.2.157-160)

No Fear Shakespeare’s modern English translation is:

I was working through my wonder when you arrived. Look at what I found on a palm tree. I haven’t been rhymed about like this since my past life, when I was an Irish rat, but I can hardly remember that. (119)

I was reading this part of the text and I remember feeling confused. Was rat slang for something else? Was Shakespeare writing about magic? I remembered British author J.K. Rowling revealed that a villainous wizard had been hiding as an actual rat (see Peter Pettigrew aka “Scabbers”) in Harry Potter. Maybe Shakespeare conjured the same magic centuries before when he flipped gender roles and made the rather progressive move of enabling a woman to be a rodent. This is after all a play about the freedom found in breaking gender norms, even if the rebellion is short-lived. (Speaking of gender, Ms. Rowling has faced criticism for her treatment of the transgender community, in which gender change is about alignment with personal identity.)

I realized that I was partially right about the notion of spells, when I read the notes in the margin, which provided context:

In Ireland, poets aimed satirical verses at their enemies, Supposedly they killed rats by rhyming them to death. (119)

John Kelly of Slate has written an excellent article about this called, “Irish Bards Could Kill Rats With Their Magical Poetry Powers.” He explains, “The first-millennial Celts believed their poets could literally kill with magical satire. According to folk tradition, the poets conjured up invectives that blistered the skin of foes and sent rival poets (or stingy patrons) to their graves. Early Irish law even criminalized satirical ‘crimes of the tongue’ equal in offense to property theft and spousal rape.”

Mr. Kelly asserts that this all got started with the sixth-century bard, Seanchan Torpest. who was vengeful toward mice for stealing the meal his wife made for him. So, he apparently got his revenge and a legend was born. But how did William Shakespeare learn about these Irish tales? According to Mr. Kelly, “Shakespeare likely discovered his Irish rat from folklore imported from the English conquest of Ireland. Perhaps he even read about it in Philip Sidney’s Defence of Poesie, written 20 years before As You Like It.”

However, rats are not the only Irish creatures on Shakespeare’s mind. Rosalind chastises:

Pray you, no more of this. ‘Tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. (5.2.99-100)

While wolves roamed freely in Ireland during Shakespeare’s time, they have been extinct on the island for 250 years. However, there is a push to reintroduce them to fight against climate change. “Perhaps through controlling non-native deer populations, the grazing of forested and mountainous areas would reduce. That in turn might increase levels of vegetation and the amount of stored carbon, for example,” writes Chris Baraniuk in the article,“What would a truly wild Ireland look like?” from BBC Future. It is unknown if that will happen, so for the foreseeable future the cry of wolves in Ireland is a dated reference that would not accurately be compared to the boisterous discussion it is compared to in the play. Rather it is more like an ominous silence.

I, however, refuse to stay silent about a passage of the play that really irked me. I am a redhead because of my Irish genes, so it’s right that I should post my indignant complaint here. Needless to say, I was not overjoyed when I read Rosalind say:

His very hair is of the dissembling color. (3.4.6)

No Fear Shakespeare’s modern English translation of this line is:

I mean, his hair is even red - the same color as that lying Judas. (149)

The note in the margin further explains:

Judas, the disciple who betrayed Jesus, was commonly depicted with red hair. (149)

What? My mouth dropped open. How historically accurate is that? How many redheads could have been living in the Middle East? How did they know the color of Judas’ hair when he died c. A.D. 30? The Fitzwilliam Museum, which displays the collections of the University of Cambridge Museums (UCM) and Botanic Garden. explains:

There is no description in the New Testament of Judas’ physical appearance, but it became traditional for artists in the middle ages to represent him with red hair, what Shakespeare described as ‘the dissembling colour’. It was a physical trait that had long been associated with treachery. In ancient Egyptian mythology Seth, the killer of Osiris was sometimes characterised by red hair, while other biblical villains – Cain, murderer of his brother Abel, and Salome, who had John the Baptist executed – were also reputedly redheads.

Thank you for the artistic license but Jesus loves those who are marginalized, and we redheads sometimes unfortunately fit into that category, so shame on Shakespeare for perpetuating an unproven stereotype. As for my feelings about both of the references to Ireland, I’m conflicted. Ireland does not sound civilized here, which is cringeworthy. This feels like how a colonizer sees native people. Still, I choose to view Shakespeare’s words in a positive light. Ireland has an untamed spirit that is reflected in the wildness of the natural world and the enchantment of wordsmiths.

In short, I agree with John Kelly’s insightful summation of Ireland’s role in the play. While quoting Rosalind’s line about wolves, he wrote,”In the Elizabethan imagination, Irish rat-rhyming no doubt confirmed stereotypes of the island as a savage, primitive, and occult wilderness…But for Shakespeare, that master conjurer, perhaps it confirmed the weird, wild, and wonderful magic of language.”