The assembly of the Trojan council is the second of the three deliberative scenes in Troilus and Cressida. Two scenes that conspire to destroy both its dignity and that of the previous Grecian debate bracket it. The first of these scenes introduces Achilles, Ajax, Patroclus, and the railing Thersites; the same foursome are present again following the Trojan debate. In neither of the scenes do the heroes display any semblance of heroic virtue. Ajax's pride is magnified by the flattery of the Greek generals while Achilles snubs their authority and reclines in his tent. While both of these scenes are ostensibly of minor importance, their parenthetical location allows them to stand in contrast to the deeper reflections of Greek and Trojan.
Unlike the Grecian council, this meeting is strictly confined to the ruling aristocracy of Troy. Prism, the king, is present, as are four of his sons, Hector, Paris, Helenus, and Troilus. All are members of the royal family; there are no generals, councilors, or other advisors present. And in particular, the loquacious Aeneas is absent. Any decisions made here will not be subject to ratification. They have convened to discuss a demand from the Greeks to return Helen. Priam's opening words make it clear that this is not the first time such a demand has been made. The ultimatum, as delivered by Nestor, speaks of "the hot digestion of this cormorant war. " (2.2. 2) These words give weight to the sense of futility that has been evoked, on both sides, in the preceding scenes.
Priam does not offer any opinion himself but instead asks Hector, his eldest son, to speak on the matter. Hector's response is to emphasize that while he is no coward, there is "no lady of more softer bowels" as far as the future is concerned. (10) Indeed, he says, as none of them can predict the future, to seek the safety of peace is more prudent than to prolong an unsure war. For this reason alone, Hector counsels the release of Helen. His decision is reinforced by his belief that so many Trojans should not have died to defend something that is not theirs. Hector thus casts immediate doubt on any legal or moral claim that the Trojans might use to justify the retention of Helen. This is the reasoned (and ethical) response, a policy dictated by the most prudential of motives - the survival of the polis - the rejection of a policy that unnecessarily risks everything. Hector's reasoning is thus in accord with the understanding that sees the most urgent and primary task of a political society to be its self-preservation. Troy is in danger from the attrition that this stalemated conflict has generated, self-preservation dictates withdrawal.
It is interesting to note that the Greeks are still, after seven years, prepared for negotiation. For the return of Helen and the payment of damages, they will end the war. This is not a demand for unconditional surrender; but neither is it, as the Greek council scene revealed, delivered from an enemy in a position of clearly superior strength. 55 Nonetheless, Hector's assessment seems correct; acceptance of the demand generates consequences that can be reasonably anticipated. Rejection of the ultimatum, on the other hand, throws the Trojans into that uncertain future that Hector fears.
Thucydides, in his history of the
Peloponnesian War, relates the story of the inhabitants of Melos. 56 Like Shakespeare's
Trojans, they too had a choice when confronted with an Athenian ultimatum: absorption
into the Athenian empire or an almost sure destruction. For reasons that defy
utilitarian calculation, the Melians chose the latter alternative despite its
predictable result. The Trojans at this point cannot know precisely the consequences
of refusal; they have been weakened by the conflict, but not decisively, and
perhaps no more than the Greeks. Their options are accordingly more open than
those confronting the Melians are. As we know, in the end the results will be
the same; both Melos and Troy will be obliterated. The Melians chose their fate
with few illusions about the outcome. Their only hope of relief lay with their
ally Sparta, not in their own hands. The Trojans however, are mired in a problematic
decision, the consequences of which are unknown.
If the Trojans, like the Melians, opt for the continuance of the war, then the
supposition that the survival of the polis is the fundamental concern must be
thrown into doubt. Yet is this not the fundamental paradox of both human individuals
and their polities, that they will, on occasion, do the rash and unpredictable
thing? That there are fundamental alternatives available to men and cities becomes
evident in considerations like these. It is possible to see the polis "as being
for the sake of noble actions," as Aristotle put it, or as Hobbes alternatively
saw it, for comfortable self-preservation. 57 The dramatic structure of this
scene allows Shakespeare to question the inevitability of Troy's fall; the alternatives
are available to his Trojans. It is crucial to precisely consider his presentation
of why they might reject such an ultimatum.
Troilus quickly challenges Hector's assessment of their choices. This is the fifth challenge to occur thus far in the play. His challenge stands in obvious contrast to the attitude and character he presented in the first scene. He is openly contemptuous of Hector's counsel of surrender:
Fie, fie, my brother!
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king
So great as our dread father in a scale
Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite,
And buckle in a waist most fathomless
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame!
(24-31)
Such "reasons" as Hector has given
are, in Troilus' mind, merely utilitarian calculations. They are insufficient
to measure something so great as the honour and nobility of a great king. Troilus
sees honour as something that cannot be measured by so prosaic an accounting
as
profit-and-loss calculation. Such reasoning takes its bearings from everyday
fears, whereas kingly honour should always be raised above the commonplace.
Troilus seems to believe that honorable men have no need for any 'reason' that
is grounded in such a plebeian perspective. Ironically, however, he reveals
a rather commonplace conception of reason; it is something narrow and cramped
because it is conceived on the model of mathematics. Such reason is often rejected
by the enemies of reason because they believe, as Rosen has noted, that it "objectifies,
reifies, alienates; it debases or destroys the genuinely human" 58
Yet the question arises as to whether there is a place for any loftier kind of reason in the Trojan councils; that is, a place for dialogue and dialectical argument. If a 'reason' that has as its basis the security of the polis is rejected as only a common or conventional calculation for dishonorable men, then what place has wisdom in the Trojan cosmos? Is there a reason that encompasses warrior honour; and with what claim does the house of Priam presume to rule the city of Troy? This does not denigrate the force of Troilus' argument, for we must recognize that by rejecting Hector's reasons for surrender, he has raised two important questions: Is there an intuitive recognition of the noble; and is not honour a necessity for a ruler's power?
Troilus' brother, Helenus, sees cause to object to Troilus' defence of Priam's honour. He accuses Troilus of attacking Hector's reason only because he has no reason of his own. Helenus cannot see why Priam should not be influenced by reasonable argument, but Troilus is not to be swayed by such criticisms. He responds to Helenus in a contemptuous manner. He first emphasizes Helenus' occupation and the state of mind he believes attends it: "You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest.'' He then goes on to suggest that Helenus is a coward, and once again, as with Hector, he manages to equate this kind of reason with cowardice:
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons:
You know an enemy intends you harm;
You know a sword employed is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorbed? (38-46)
In this speech, Troilus clearly demonstrates his conception of reason. According
to his account, Helenus, like Hobbes, believes that "reason flies the object
of all harm. " By mentioning Helenus' vocation, Troilus alludes to that perception
we first noted in Pandarus' assessment of Helenus in Act I: If a priest fights
at all, it is only "indifferent well. " Troilus goes farther here, as he virtually
accuses Helenus of, at best, excessive caution, or at worst, of cowardice. To
disregard a priest suggests that the speaker places little confidence in any
divine powers. Ulysses, as we have noted, conjures up an ordered but essentially
godless universe. In Troy, it seems that human self-reliance will be the key
as well. Having rejected the counsel of the pious, Troilus goes on to denigrate
the relevance of the reasonable to their deliberations. 59 What then causes
a man to fight? If it is patently unreasonable for a man to place his life at
risk in a war, then some other motivation must account for men to take such
risks. To place your life in mortal danger is unreasonable, or so it seems to
men of a Hobbesian stamp. Thus the question that Troilus implicitly asks is
whether it can ever be reasonable to willingly place yourself in a situation
that can end in death. The answer to his question would, reasonably, seem to
be `no', unless some other force existed to spur men to these risks. For Troilus
the answer is the realm of honour and the rewards that accompany it. Shakespeare
thus once again touches upon the problematic area of political life: the status
of honour, nobility, and reputation. How can the demands of the political society
be reconciled with the demands of the honour-seeking man and the specter of
war? Reason should indeed "fly the object of all harm" - but if it does, if
utilitarian calculation wins out, then who is left to defend the polity? The
essential paradox here is that the defence of political society (and its subsequent
survival) rests on the honour-seeking man.
Perhaps the pursuit of glory can
only occur through the denigration of common `reason', and the substitution
of a rhetorical defence of honour and courage. Possibly this is why Troilus
now attempts a final abjuration of Hector's "reasons. " Here, again the use
of reason is equated to
cowardice:
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nay, if we talk
of reason,
Let's shut our gates and sleep.
Manhood and honour
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts
With this crammed reason. Reason and respect
Make livers pale and Iustihood
deject. (45-9)
Hector is not yet reduced to silence, as he again interjects: "Brother she is
not worth what she doth/Cost the keeping. "(50) Hector has managed to divert
the subject back to the question of Helen, and not the honour of Priam. Yet
his remark can only fuel the fires of Troilus' disdain, since the language of
reference is that of commerce - a prime arena of profit and loss calculation
- with the all-too-evident cost of the war compared to its nebulous benefits.
Surprisingly, Troilus does not attack Hector's particular example; instead,
he asks what may well be question that directly impinges on this legendary war.
Troilus asks: the central question of this debate, a Shakespeare's intention
in dramatizing "What's aught [i.e. anything] but as `'tis valued?'' Hector attempts
to deny Troilus his point by asserting that "value dwells not in particular
[i.e. individual] wills.'' Troilus' statement that nothing has meaning except
for its value epitomizes the crux of the Trojan tragedy as Shakespeare understands
it. The argument that follows will be placed in a more conventional context
(honour, courage, and dignity versus treason, shame, and cowardice) but the
lynchpin of the argument is provided by the relativistic stance of Troilus vis-a-vis
Hector. This is a stance that, although couched as an abstract philosophical
position, is nevertheless the most radically conventional of positions, and
therewith, the most politically dangerous of all.
Yet, it is crucial to remember the origins of this argument. Hector and Troilus'
argument has moved to the problem of objective and subjective assessments of
value; however, given the context in which it occurs, this is a discussion of
ethics and the moral justification of human actions per se. Yet their argument
began with differing points - Hector was addressing the value of Priam's honour
(for, as the opening scene revealed, he agrees with Hector concerning Helen)
- Hector is suggesting that the war rests on a mistaken premise, while Troilus
resists the ideas that profit and loss calculation can measure the honour and
worth of a king. Yet, this scene, so crucial to the play, can be profoundly
misread if we assume that Hector and Troilus are arguing about the same thing.
Hector's answer begins with the attempt to deny Troilus his premise that value
exists in individual wills. Troilus has assumed the sovereignty of the subjective
observer in the attribution of value, and it is this that Hector denies.
But value dwells not in particular will;
It holds his estimate and dignity
As well wherein `'tis precious of itself
As in the prizer. `'Tis mad idolatry
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes that is attributive
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit.
(53-60)
For Hector the value of a thing is as much an intrinsic determination as any
extrinsic (and therefore subjective) estimation. Hence, Hector's argument denies
the value of keeping Helen (which would continue the war), as much as it denies
that such decision be reached by the inclination of individual desires. When
he states that it is "mad idolatry" that "makes the service greater than the
god'1, he is also, in the context of the play, passing an ironic comment on
Troilus and Paris, both of whom have turned their passionate desires into paramount
preoccupations. Paris and Troilus have elevated both Helen and Cressida into
something greater than mere objects of desire. We may note the inflated romantic
reveries in which Troilus dreams of Cressida (cf. 1.1.47-62; 3.2.16-27). While
he places great value upon her, as we have also seen Cressida apparently places
much less value upon either herself or Troilus. The service is indeed greater
than the god.
Given the staging of these scenes, we are left to wonder if Troilus' defence of Paris' interest in Helen is not colored (i.e. prejudiced) by his own interest in Cressida. Yet, with this observation, Hector has managed to do more than simply deliver an ironic comment upon both of his love-struck brothers, for he challenges both the war and Troilus' assessment of it. Hector's response is both reasoned and prudential; being an honorable man, he has sought an honorable course, but one that can be reconciled with prudence. A man who attempts to reconcile honour and prudence cannot view reason in the same light as Troilus has. For Hector, honour must have a component of reason; it cannot simply be the utterly reckless questing for glory. To seek honour is to seek power, for the man whose actions are recognized as honorable has a kind of power over his fellow citizens (as Hobbes knew well); however, as Ulysses has noted, power without a sense of justice degenerates into will, appetite, and eventually, universal chaos (cf. 1.3.115-123).
The crisis that grips the Grecian camp illustrates the truth of one of the fundamental
axioms of political power: political power is founded in a combination of physical
force and persuasion. The crisis lies in the fact that, Agamemnon, the nominal
wielder of Greek political power, does not command the allegiance of his greatest
warrior. Hence, it fell to Ulysses and his rhetorical skills to attempt to resolve
the political impasse. As has been said, even a tyrant has to have persuaded
someone. Since the Trojan scene is a council, and indeed, a family council,
the matter of physical coercion would not seem to be of central concern to the
debate here. The decision to abandon the war and seek an honorable peace or
to continue the war into an unknown future is a decision that will be arrived
at through the persuasion of speech. This is why the skill of deliberative rhetoric
is important here as well. One should be curious to see if a Trojan Ulysses
arises here.
Troilus answers Hector's objection with an appropriate example; it concerns the choosing of a wife, an activity that has (at least superficially) occupied his mind for some time:
I take today a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct on my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots `twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgement. How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? There can be no evasion
To blench from this and stand firm by honour.
(60-67)
Although Troilus is trying to prove that value does dwell in individual wills, his point seems at first glance to be that will must stand by what it has elected. Yet a closer examination of Troilus' words indicates that what he is saying is not as simple as this. It is not simply a matter of standing by one's original choice, for Troilus implicitly acknowledges intrinsic value when he says that one cannot `honorably' return "soiled goods," that is, things whose intrinsic value one has diminished. It is further complicated by the fact that Helen is a woman whose beauty, like that of all women, will fade. Ironically, Troilus argues that men should not be what Cressida suspects they are - fickle. If a man chooses a wife, or anything else, it is dishonorable to reject the original choice, even if such adherence is subsequently distasteful. Reason is once again subordinated to will. In his example, it is the will that triggers the initial desire, as it stimulates the senses which balance between will and judgement. The whole decision is based on will and desire and what the will has elected.
Troilus by this example betrays the rule of reason for that of individual judgement. That his judgement is not mediated by reason is illustrated when Troilus says that he chooses by depending on his senses ("mine eyes and ears") as the mediators "'twixt the dangerous shores of will and judgement. " Such decisions are apparently irrevocable in the world that Troilus prefers. The yardstick for all individual decisions is honour - once a choice is made, honour requires that it be sustained. The question that arises is what if the original decision was unreasonable, or indeed, utterly irrational? Does honour demand what Troilus requires? "That there can be no evasion/To blench from this [decision] and stand firm by honour. "
There are two ways in which to understand Troilus' position. One is to look at the traditional meaning of the idea of election. Election, as J.V. Cunningham has noted, "is a technical term in the medieval tradition for the act of moral choice . . . with respect to choosing the means to an end." 60 In his specific and rather circumscribed example, Troilus sees that end as marriage and the means as the choosing of a wife. But Cunningham, following Aristotle and Aquinas, notes that "moral choice is a function of reason, of the soul, and is exercised as soon as one attains the `age of reason' but not before . . . 61 Troilus, in his own example, lets his election be guided by his will. This would suggest that his is an immature judgement, that Troilus has the requirements of a moral act backwards.
This interpretation, while prima facie true to what has been said, can also trivialize the scene. It is just as possible to see that Troilus, far from making an immature judgement, is issuing a radical challenge to the conventional view that reason is adequate for electing final ends; a challenge that is applicable both to love-objects, as well as to what is noble (honorable) and beautiful. This possibility is present in his following words:
............................................
It was thought meet
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks;
Your breath of full consent bellied his sails;
The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce,
And did him service; he touched the ports desired;
And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness
Wrinkles Apollo's and makes stale the morning.
Why keep we her? The Grecians keep our aunt.
Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl
Whose price bath launched above a thousand ships
And turned crowned kings to merchants. (71-82)
Troilus herewith touches upon the original political decision that initiated
the war; however, in doing so he also reveals revenge as the motive that lies
at the heart of this `quarrel'. The Greeks had kidnapped Hesione, the sister
of Priam and mother of Ajax. Yet the Trojans decided not to attempt to recover
Hesione, but rather to exact some fitting measure of revenge. The implicit (albeit
unasked) question is what was the rationality of that original response. (That
is, would anything less have invited contempt of Trojan power?) Troilus here
plays upon the pride of the council when he emphasizes that Paris was sent with
their full consent. With this charge, Troilus implicates all those present for
the state of the war. By referring them back to their incipient resolution,
he demands that there "be no evasion", that they "stand firm by honour. "
When Troilus claims that Helen's beauty rivals Apollo's, he adds a touch of hubristic impiety, and consequently gives weight to Hector's statement that "the service" has become "greater than the god. " To suggest that a mortal can be more beautiful than a god is, in normal situations, to tread dangerous ground (even if the gods seemed sometimes to agree). Yet here we can see why Troilus' challenge is as radical as Ulysses'. If Troilus makes impious comparisons, he also reduces a divine conception of beauty to that of the secular. This move begins the enshrinement of new objects of worship in the Trojan temples. 62
Troilus again invokes his emphasis of value as a commercial commodity, something we encountered in the first scene. Helen's value is so great, according to Troilus, that the Greeks who have come to Troy desirous of revenge have been reduced to merchants, bargaining to achieve their ends. This assertion is, of course, dismissively insulting to the Greeks, but more importantly it also gives us a hint of how Troilus understands the Grecian intentions. 63 For this indicates, at least at the level of inter-subjective agreement, that Helen is a theme of honour and renown, and therefore an indicator of objective value. If she were not, would the Greeks have invested so much time and energy into securing her retrieval? Troilus' understanding of Grecian intentions posits an affinity between the Greek and Trojan defence of Helen; however, to characterize this as commercially centred is to blithely disregard the awesome potential of a martial antagonist bent upon revenge.
Troilus then reiterates the communal nature of the Trojan enterprise as well as divulging how much he thinks Helen should be valued:
If you'll avouch `twas wisdom Paris
went -
As you must needs, for you all cried `Go, go';
If you'll confess he brought home worthy prize -
As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands
And cried `Inestimable' ! ; why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
And do a deed that never fortune did,
Beggar the estimation which you prized
Richer than sea or land?
(83-91)
Here Troilus reveals his reason why Helen must be kept: If her capture was good once, as the council agreed it was, then is that goodness dissipated simply because the action has become dangerous? Troilus sees the reason they adduced for action did contain a component of good, whereas Hector has not spoken of the good, but of merely the utilitarian necessity of compromise in the interests of self-preservation. There is no way this won't be interpreted as a sign of weakness. Troilus has essentially cut off any easy retreat of Hector's position. For the council to agree with Hector at this point would require both courage and humility. A man must be humble to admit a grievous mistake and to admit it in a situation wherein such admission can be construed as cowardice requires a certain kind of courage.
Troilus demonstrates some knowledge
of political affairs when he speaks of the previous joint decision. The resolution
that set the war in motion is now an accomplished fact, and now the event has
a momentum of its own, given the physical and psychical investment of both sides.
At
this moment, Troilus has, by the weight of his words, forced the council to
either affirm or deny their fidelity to their original decision. In his closing
words, however, Troilus reveals the fundamental problem facing them:
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 theft most base,
That we have stolen what we fear to keep!
But thieves unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace
We fear to warrant in our native place! (91-95)
While it is possible to see this statement as an admission that despite the
noble rhetoric with which Troilus has sought to defend the abduction of Helen,
it is merely thievery and that the honour sought in defending her is simply
the honour of thieves. The critical issue that remains unresolved is not the
ethics of the abduction, but whether the original desires of the council still
match their powers. They desired to humiliate Sparta, which they did, but they
now fear to justify that action in their own city. This inconstancy is what
is unreasonable to Troilus.
The possibility of exploring the implications of Troilus' argument is seemingly lost when a loud disturbance is heard off stage. The noise announces the entry of Prism's daughter Cassandra. Rather than obscuring the differences between Hector and Troilus (and therewith their arguments), Shakespeare cleverly uses this apparent interruption to throw still more light on the differences between the two brothers. Cassandra is, of course, famous in legend as the seer whose prophecies were doomed to be disbelieved. Her most poignant prophecies were those of the destruction of Troy. 64 Shakespeare closely follows the legend of Cassandra, and following this tradition she is precisely prophetic in her speech.
Cry, Trojans, Cry! Practice our eyes with tears.
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilium stand;
Our firebrand brother Paris, burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! A Helen and a woe!
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. (107-111)
Shakespeare here reminds us that all these fine arguments will do nothing to alleviate the fate of Troy. We know they will not let Helen go and that consequently Troy will burn, yet this reminder can only heighten our interest in the argument. For the most striking fact about Cassandra's prophecy is its effect upon her brothers. The only one who is seemingly prepared to believe her is Hector. Hector speaks of Cassandra's words as suggesting "high strains of divination" while Troilus, in contrast, dismisses Cassandra as "mad" and her prophecies as merely "brainsick raptures." Prophecy is traditionally thought of in two ways; if it is accepted and believed, then it is considered a mark of divine favour; if it is rejected, it is often branded as madness. Cassandra was, of course, cursed by Apollo when he bestowed his "gift" upon her, but Hector is strangely prepared to believe her.
We have al ready commented upon the absence of the gods in Shakespeare's account. Even so, here the question of divine versus human power, indeed, of reason versus revelation, emerges. Paradoxically, it is Hector, the defender of reason, who is, at least tentatively, prepared to admit the possibility of revelation on Cassandra's part. Troilus, the denigrator of reason, rejects the possible intrusion of the divine. Yet, is not the most important aspect of their reaction to Cassandra's outburst the fact that they both interpret her prophecy in the way that fits their own particular positions?
Now youthful Troilus, do not these
high strains
Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse, or is your blood
So madly hot that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualify the same? (112-117)
In his riposte to Hector, Troilus simply alludes to the justice, honour, and
significantly, the goodness of their cause:
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . Why, brother Hector,
We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than th' event cloth form it.
Nor once deject the courage of our minds,
Because Cassandra's mad. Her brainsick raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel
Which bath our several honours all engaged
To make it gracious.
(117-124)
To speak of justice and goodness here is convincing and seems to place the war on the noble plateau Troilus suggested earlier when he argued that the abduction of Helen was just retribution for the loss of Hesione. Furthermore, he argues that the justness of an act cannot be judged merely by its outcome, for no matter what that outcome, the Trojans must fight on to protect the justice of their cause.
Troilus says that they should not judge the justice of their cause by Cassandra's prophecies, nor, by implication, the number of casualties that they have suffered. Yet here, as when he declared the subjectivity of value, Troilus will not forthrightly declare how valuable he thinks Helen to be, nor how necessary and unassailable the justice of their cause is. Troilus is wrapped up in the comforting and gauzy images of his own rhetoric; Helen is a pearl above price. The question however, the one that Hector has already asked, is how valuable is the pearl? Is keeping her worth a hundred dead Trojans, a thousand, even ten thousand? Is the defence of Helen worth the life of Troilus, of Hector, indeed, of the entire city? The ultimate value or worth of anything would seem to be better judged, not by what you are eagerly willing to give, but by what you are reluctantly willing to put at risk.
When the dramatic structure of the play is analyzed, we see that it is absolutely crucial that the budding affair of Troilus and Cressida be secret and unconsummated at the time of the council scene. One of the ironies of the play is the question of whether Troilus would have defended keeping Helen if he had not fallen in love with Cressida and thus concretely experienced Paris' position. If their romance had been a matter of public, or at least familial, knowledge, then Hector might openly have suggested that Troilus' judgement has been corrupted by his own love, and hence more easily asked `how valuable is Helen?' Is her defense worth the life of our loved ones; of our father, our mother, of Cressida? Hector is unquestionably a courageous man but he is also a family man, hence one might think that he has something to protect.
Troilus' defence of the enterprise finally finds support when Paris lends his voice to the cause. His initial response merely reaffirms Troilus' earlier point, but he also adds his fear that the world might ridicule the Trojans for their indecision.
Else might the world convince of
levity
As well my undertakings as your counsels;
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propension and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project.
(129-133)
Consent, in Paris' mind, ought to imply an end to fear, but that alone cannot end the war, For that, force of arms, bolstered by courage and unclouded conviction, is needed. Paris brags that if he were not one man alone he would fight the Greeks himself. He gives an interesting formulation in wishing he has as much power as he had will.
This reminds us also of the similar situations inherent in the two camps. Paris has will but no power without the rest of Troy. The Greeks have the power but their will is divided. The Greeks need Achilles as Paris needs Troy. Indeed, and more to the point, the Trojans need Hector as the Greeks need Achilles. The contrast between the attitudes of these two heroes could not be more profound, for Hector will consider himself bound by the council's decision. Thus divided will is a problem common to both camps, and the play emphasizes the dichotomous, but yet complementary, natures of the two antagonists. Nietzsche believed that will to power is the crucial human trait, that it is, indeed, the fundamental principle of nature; yet here are two forces whose divided will is dissipating their power.
Paris and Troilus are trying to inject the will to victory into what they perceive as a faltering policy. They have both accused their council of weakening in the face of adversity, of denying their original decisions. This is, in part, reminiscent of Agamemnon and Nestor's evocation of the trials of fortune as a test of men's resolve. There is, however, no Ulysses in Troy to draw the larger implications from the decision of the Trojan council. Troilus has damned reason and praised honour; Paris, for his part, must do the same. Since they have rejected the counsel of reason, they must rely on the abstraction of honour and glory.
Before Paris can continue, the heretofore taciturn Priam interrupts him. The
old king has a perceptive comment on Paris' motivation in this affair. 65 Since
it is Paris who possesses Helen, he has the sweeter part of the argument, while
the rest of them deal with the bitter reality of the situation. Paris replies
to this with an interesting suggestion:
Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasure such a beauty brings with it, (145-146)
Paris is not, of course, proposing to share Helen with either his brethren,
or indeed, the Trojan army. He is instead trying to convince them of the pleasure
they all share by merely being in her presence. This sharing is aesthetic and
symbolic, not sexual. Once again we see the elevation of the service against
the god. These words reinforce Troilus' first tentative moves towards enshrining
a new goddess in the Trojan temples. To bathe in the beauty of Helen is to share
in her beauty. This is a natural understanding of beauty, that to be in its
presence is in itself beautiful, even beautifying, and hence, an ennobling experience.
Paris' solution is disarmingly simple:
But I would have the soil of her
fair rape
Wiped off in honorable keeping her.
What treason were it to the ransacked queen,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up
On terms of base compulsion!
(147-152)
Yet Paris' words have a strange ring of paradox about them. He speaks of the
"fair rape" of Helen; he calls it "treason" (again an odd formulation) to give
up the "ransacked queen. " Leaving aside the idea of "fair rape " for the moment,
we are left with the accusation of treason. In any reasonable definition, we
think of treason as the betrayal of one's own for a variety of (usually sordid)
motives. Paris is accusing the recalcitrant princes of treason to Helen. The
obvious point, however, is that Helen is not theirs. Paris believes that "honorable
keeping her" cleanses the deed of abduction. Does this semantic point make Helen
a Trojan? No, but her willing complicity in her abduction, and consequent acceptance
of it might. Helen only appears once in the play, and this scene is one of deep
sensuality. Her willing acquiescence in Paris' request to "unarm Hector" clearly
illustrates this (cf. 3.1 ). This attitude is reinforced in Paris' view that
it is not only treasonous, but also a "disgrace" and a "shame" to give her up
under threat.
Paris is raising the specter of dishonour once again. That it is important is obvious from the continued reference to it. Yet by dwelling on the possibility of shame and disgrace, Paris and Troilus are able to deflect attention from the possibility of seriously weighing other, perhaps more important, considerations. The political prudence necessary for wise governance is not given an opportunity to arise in this situation. The argument is continually conducted on the basis of the passionate appeals to honour. After raising the specter of shame, Paris descends to flattery. There is no one, he says, so craven that they would not defend Helen. To reject her defence, he claims, leaves such a man with a life "ill-bestowed" and a "death unfamed. "(158)
Hector is still unprepared to capitulate to the arguments of his brothers, and here he launches one final attempt to persuade them. His reply is complex and dense with the political ideas of responsibility and obligation. He begins with the famous (or notorious) anachronistic reference to Aristotle:
Paris and Troilus, you have both
said well,
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have glozed, but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
(162-166)
The passage in question is from the beginning of the Nicomachean Ethics where
Aristotle states:
Now each man judges well the things
he knows, and of these he is a good
judge. And so the man who has been educated in a subject is a good
judge of that subject, and the man who has received an all-round
education is a good judge in general. Hence a young man is not a proper
hearer of lectures in political science, for he is inexperienced in the
actions that occur in life, but its discussions start from these and are
about these; and, further, since he tends to follow his passions, his study
will be vain and unprofitable. 66
We might well wonder at Shakespeare's intention in using Aristotle here. Is this simply a version of the medieval tradition of citing authorities to bolster the argument? Presuming that Shakespeare is more than merely dropping names, let us explore the possibility that the reference implies a deliberate dramatic, as well as philosophic, purpose Given the conversation that precedes this remark, we may acquiesce in its accuracy. Troilus and Paris are indeed young men seemingly unfit to hear political philosophy. After his reference to Aristotle, Hector continues his criticism of Troilus and Paris with words that evoke the spirit of Aristotle's criticism.
The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distempered blood
Than to make a free determination
`Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision.
(167-170)
Once again, Hector emphasizes the lack of reason in their arguments. They are so dominated by passion that a "free determination" in the sense of a reasonable choice, that is, free of disturbing influences, is impossible. Then the passage regarding pleasure and revenge, that echoes the fifty-eighth Psalm, again reinforces one's suspicions as to the true motivation of the war - pleasure and revenge. 67 Paris' desire for pleasure and Troy's desire for revenge reveal the intertwined aspect of these private and public desires.
Despite the reasonableness of his statements, if Hector truly wishes to persuade his young brothers, he must employ something more persuasive that mere criticism of his critics. Yet he confronts a formidable problem. Troilus and Paris have an advantage in this debate, in that they have appealed to the honorable man and all of the things that that honorable man holds dear: constancy, justice, nobility, glory, fame, the respect of others, and the traditions of the city. They have also raised the specter of those things that the honorable man despises: cowardice, disgrace, treason, and weakness. Hector's position is thus analogous to that of Brutus, who justified the assassination of Caesar by appealing to the reason and patriotism of the mob. Anthony, however, won the argument by appealing to the baser passions and greed of the mob. 68
How can a man persuade those whose own rhetoric is suffused with such ideas?
The answer is that only a Socratic rhetoric could hope to overcome such ideas,
a rhetoric that evokes an even greater glory for Troy than its defending a foreign
queen and perhaps perishing in the attempt. 69 Hector seems strangely unequal
to this challenge, he makes a great speech, but fails to persuade, and his failure
seems couched in his inability to conjure up a more rhetorically pleasing future
for Troy. He again appeals to their reason, perhaps remembering Aristotle's
dictum that men are by nature political but not sufficiently appreciating that
there is no corresponding dictum guaranteeing that men are by nature primarily
reasonable in pursuing their political and personal ends.
...............................................
Nature craves
All dues be rendered to their owners. Now
What nearer debt in all humanity
Than wife is to the husband? If this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbed wills, resist the same,
There is a law in each well-ordered nation
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King,
As it is known she is, these moral laws
Of natures and nations speak aloud
To have her back returned. Thus to persist
In doing wrong extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. (172-185)
Hector begins this final argument by referring to natural law; he thus moves from human law to a standard of natural justice that the positive law of decent regimes seeks to imitate. He states that "Nature craves/All dues be rendered to their owners. " By speaking of the `due' or obligation that a husband has with respect to his wife, Hector underscores the fact that to deprive a husband of his due is tantamount to breaking nature's law. 70
Like Ulysses, Hector explicitly assumes a purposive unity to nature, that it has a telos. Unlike Ulysses, however, Hector's speech does not imply that once the teleological impetus of nature is disrupted it cannot be restored. The fact that Helen has been abducted has not silenced the moral laws of nature and the nations, instead they both "speak aloud" to return her.
But for his opponents to acquiesce in his idea that the abduction of Helen is a crime against nature, they would have to be in agreement as to what nature is. The problem is that nature and convention is usually seen as in a permanent tension. Man may be by nature political, but the only way that he attains maturity is through the mediation of others, which relies heavily on custom and tradition, much of which consists of conventions.
Hector has attempted to re-focus
the problem by an appeal to natural law for standards to right and wrong. Troilus
and Paris have consistently appealed to standards that in practice tend to be
radically conventional (honour, glory, fame, etc.). They have shown themselves
fully cognizant
of the highest conventions of Trojan society. Indeed, Troilus, with his constant
reiteration of mercantile comparisons, may also be said to be cognizant of the
lowest conventions as well. They have not shown any understanding of natural
finality.
This is the great connection to Ulysses' degree speech. At this moment, it seems that all present, save Hector, have succumbed to the same essential view of man (i.e. , man has no natural end except to win honour, die gloriously, and, hopefully, to be consecrated in the memory of humanity). They have rejected reason, which guides us in understanding the meaning of life; they have rejected natural right, which provides some trans-conventional standards for human life. Indeed, one may go so far so to suspect that they reject Aristotle's dictum of man as a political animal by nature. The fundamental premise of classical political philosophy can be understood as the establishment and perpetuation of the city, but Troilus and Paris, by their arguments, appear to care little for politics, and consequently nothing for the city. Both are prepared to sacrifice their city and family in a quest for personal glory. By their assertions they have shown their belief in the autonomy of the noble, that it, and not "crammed reason" should guide the actions of man.
By their understanding, the final destiny for the warrior, and by implication for Troy, is to seek glory that will win immortal fame in the life to come. This is not to be achieved in an after-life, but in posterity, in the memory of humanity. 71 Their tragedy is that the objects of glory for which they will sacrifice everything have been subjectively chosen by acts of personal will. Now Hector may understand that an appeal to nature is, at this point, a fruitless endeavor given the biased minds confronting him. So he abruptly shifts from an appeal to nature to that of human law, the assemblage of conventions that rule human societies.
The implications of mentioning the law in well-ordered nations are provocative. Presumably Troy was once a well-ordered polis but the raging appetites Hector has mentioned have now seemingly been given ethical approval. The rulers of Troy have neglected this to the peril of their city. Hector's point then is well taken, as is his argument that to continue acting wrongly will not expiate a wrong but merely continue it. This is the problem of revenge masquerading as justice: it has no finality.
Yet, after saying this, Hector utters
his most paradoxical words. In an abrupt volte-face he throws his lot
in with that of Troilus and Paris, speaking instead of the "roisting challenge
" that he has already delivered to the Greeks. To many critics this reversal
on Hector's part is exceedingly puzzling and is often cited as a weakness in
Shakespeare's dramatic coherence. Yet, in the most obvious of respects it is
not really all that puzzling; as we have noted Shakespeare is, to some extent,
constrained by his historical material. We know Troy does not negotiate
nor escape its fate. However, the abruptness with which Hector capitulates seems
only to emphasize the weakness of his arguments. Yet, as we have seen, Hector's
arguments are not weak. One need not think Shakespeare intended that we view
Hector as giving in out of a sense of helplessness or out of a loyalty to his
city right or wrong. Much less is it well interpreted as inconstancy on Hector's
part. Hector's disagreement is that although he has no qualms about the demands
placed on an honorable man, he does have doubts about the honorable nature of
this war. Troilus and Paris have both emphasized that honour can be won in the
defence of Helen. The tragedy is that Hector appears to now believe that the
high sounding rhetoric about the "theme of renown", as delivered by Paris and
Troilus, has priority over the base origins of the war.
For Hector, as much as for Troilus and Paris, honour is the raison d'être of life itself; he has only disagreed where the honour of Troy and the honour of Hector have diverged. His opinion has been stated and rejected, and so he embraces the cause of honour. Yet in this he hardly seems helpless or confused - indeed, it seems that it is Hector that effectively rules Troy, that the final decision is his. His startling acquiescence may indicate that he is playing the devil's advocate in order to draw out his younger brothers, thereby testing their commitment. By this, he may also be reassuring his father that he soberly deliberates, that he weighs both sides. His conclusion - that whatever the justness of their cause, now their reputations, both collectively and individually, are on the line, and must be defended - certainly seem to render his earlier arguments irrelevant.
The evidence for this is to be found in the body of the play. In the second scene, Cressida's servant informs us of Hector's anger and shame at being struck down by Ajax, and of the results of that anger: the long night spent neither sleeping or eating. The fact that he has challenged the Greeks prior to the council meeting suggests that he has already decided upon continuing the war, and that the council scene has (for him at least) some ulterior purpose. A purpose that perhaps Troilus finally recognizes. Hector's only ally in council has been the priest Helenus. Even before the meetings, Pandarus has characterized Helenus as a man who only fights "indifferent well." This lack of courage on the priest's part is confirmed after Troilus' denigrates his courage; he does not speak again in the scene, or indeed, in the play. Hector's only putative ally for peace is reduced to silence by the ardor of the man who speaks for war.
This, then, lends tragic force to the play, words have become actions, honour has been made to serve the causes of a base war, and indeed, honour has become an end in and of itself. The word `honour' has supplemented the `deed' of honour. The play hearkens back to Homer in this sense, for in the Iliad we see the older conception of words and deeds - they are one. Mythos is united with logos. 72 A man speaks of honour, but only by his actions (his deeds) does he prove himself honorable. Hector is a product of a political society that has excessively glorified honour, as if the polity existed to serve as a means to honour, rather than honour being an instrument properly used to promote the ends of the city. Hence to argue against the doing of honorable deeds is almost akin to treason. The deeds an honorable man must do in this context have a political purpose, and that purpose requires that Hector continue fighting.