Themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas
explored in a literary work.
The Delights of Love
As You Like It spoofs many of the conventions
of poetry and literature dealing with love, such as the idea that
love is a disease that brings suffering and torment to the lover,
or the assumption that the male lover is the slave or servant of
his mistress. These ideas are central features of the courtly love
tradition, which greatly influenced European literature for hundreds
of years before Shakespeare’s time. In As You Like It, characters
lament the suffering caused by their love, but these laments are
all unconvincing and ridiculous. While Orlando’s metrically incompetent
poems conform to the notion that he should “live and die [Rosalind’s]
slave,” these sentiments are roundly ridiculed (III.ii.142).
Even Silvius, the untutored shepherd, assumes the role of the tortured
lover, asking his beloved Phoebe to notice “the wounds invisible
/ That love’s keen arrows make” (III.v.31–32).
But Silvius’s request for Phoebe’s attention implies that the enslaved
lover can loosen the chains of love and that all romantic wounds
can be healed—otherwise, his request for notice would be pointless.
In general, As You Like It breaks with the courtly
love tradition by portraying love as a force for happiness and fulfillment
and ridicules those who revel in their own suffering.
Celia speaks to the curative powers of love in her introductory scene
with Rosalind, in which she implores her cousin to allow “the full
weight” of her love to push aside Rosalind’s unhappy thoughts (I.ii.6).
As soon as Rosalind takes to Ardenne, she displays her own copious
knowledge of the ways of love. Disguised as Ganymede, she tutors
Orlando in how to be a more attentive and caring lover, counsels
Silvius against prostrating himself for the sake of the all-too-human
Phoebe, and scolds Phoebe for her arrogance in playing the shepherd’s
disdainful love object. When Rosalind famously insists that “[m]en
have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not
for love,” she argues against the notion that love concerns the
perfect, mythic, or unattainable (IV.i.91–92).
Unlike Jaques and Touchstone, both of whom have keen eyes and biting tongues
trained on the follies of romance, Rosalind does not mean to disparage
love. On the contrary, she seeks to teach a version of love that
not only can survive in the real world, but can bring delight as
well. By the end of the play, having successfully orchestrated four marriages
and ensured the happy and peaceful return of a more just government,
Rosalind proves that love is a source of incomparable delight.
The Malleability of the Human Experience
In Act II, scene vii, Jaques philosophizes on the stages
of human life: man passes from infancy into boyhood; becomes a lover,
a soldier, and a wise civic leader; and then, year by year, becomes
a bit more foolish until he is returned to his “second childishness
and mere oblivion” (II.vii.164).
Jaques’s speech remains an eloquent commentary on how quickly and
thoroughly human beings can change, and, indeed, do change
in As You Like It. Whether physically, emotionally,
or spiritually, those who enter the Forest of Ardenne are often
remarkably different when they leave. The most dramatic and unmistakable
change, of course, occurs when Rosalind assumes the disguise of
Ganymede. As a young man, Rosalind demonstrates how vulnerable to
change men and women truly are. Orlando, of course, is putty in
her hands; more impressive, however, is her ability to manipulate
Phoebe’s affections, which move from Ganymede to the once despised
Silvius with amazing speed.
In As You Like It, Shakespeare dispenses
with the time--consuming and often hard-won processes involved in
change. The characters do not struggle to become more pliant—their
changes are instantaneous. Oliver, for instance, learns to love
both his brother Orlando and a disguised Celia within moments of
setting foot in the forest. Furthermore, the vengeful and ambitious
Duke Frederick abandons all thoughts of fratricide after a single
conversation with a religious old man. Certainly, these transformations
have much to do with the restorative, almost magical effects of
life in the forest, but the consequences of the changes also matter
in the real world: the government that rules the French duchy, for
example, will be more just under the rightful ruler Duke Senior,
while the class structures inherent in court life promise to be
somewhat less rigid after the courtiers sojourn in the forest. These
social reforms are a clear improvement and result from the more
private reforms of the play’s characters. As You Like It not
only insists that people can and do change, but also celebrates
their ability to change for the better.
City Life Versus Country Life
Pastoral literature thrives on the contrast between life
in the city and life in the country. Often, it suggests that the
oppressions of the city can be remedied by a trip into the country’s
therapeutic woods and fields, and that a person’s sense of balance
and rightness can be restored by conversations with uncorrupted
shepherds and shepherdesses. This type of restoration, in turn,
enables one to return to the city a better person, capable of making
the most of urban life. Although Shakespeare tests the bounds of
these conventions—his shepherdess Audrey, for instance, is neither
articulate nor pure—he begins As You Like It by
establishing the city/country dichotomy on which the pastoral mood
depends. In Act I, scene i, Orlando rails against the injustices
of life with Oliver and complains that he “know[s] no wise remedy
how to avoid it” (I.i.20–21).
Later in that scene, as Charles relates the whereabouts of Duke
Senior and his followers, the remedy is clear: “in the forest of
Ardenne . . . many young gentlemen . . . fleet the time carelessly,
as they did in the golden world” (I.i.99–103).
Indeed, many are healed in the forest—the lovesick are coupled with
their lovers and the usurped duke returns to his throne—but Shakespeare
reminds us that life in Ardenne is a temporary affair. As the characters
prepare to return to life at court, the play does not laud country
over city or vice versa, but instead suggests a delicate and necessary
balance between the two. The simplicity of the forest provides shelter
from the strains of the court, but it also creates the need for
urban style and sophistication: one would not do, or even matter,
without the other.
