54 CHAPTER IV. I CANNOT TELL. THERE is a phrase occurring in the opening of Bacon's Essay of "Truth"-the first in the immortal Volume-which may sound strange and only half intelligible when first read. This is the passage :-The Essayist is remarking on "the difficulty and labour which men take in finding out of truth," and the bondage which when found it "imposeth upon men's thoughts," which leads men to prefer their own false ideas to the substitutes which knowledge supplies. Not only does this bring lies into favour, but there is "a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself." And then he proceeds: "One of the latter school of the Grecians examineth this matter and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that men should love lies, where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets; nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell." The Latin has Sed nescio quo modo. This phrase, I cannot tell, at first staggers the reader. It is not that the puzzle baffles the writer, for he immediately proceeds to give a very beautiful and poetical solution of it, adding, "This same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques, and mummeries and triumphs of the world half so stately and daintily as candle-lights." Bacon's meaning is easily misunderstood:-the reader may say, what I have heard from the lips of a noble and accomplished lady, "I don't agree with Bacon: No one loves a lie for its own sake." The lies, or fictions to which Bacon refers are not vulgar fibs, but philosophical conceits, speculative inventions taking the A POETIC FICTION. place of Nature's facts and laws. 55 And the expression, articulate sigh, a sort "I cannot tell,” may be taken as an of Heigh-ho! Well-a-day! Oh dear, dear! in which the languid expression of defeat is more apparent than real. He does not quite mean what he says, there is in the exclamation a sort of poetic insincerity, as if he were himself in propriâ personâ supplying an instance to illustrate his thesis. For he can tell, and does tell as we have seen in the next sentence. Let this be well noted: the collapse of judgment apparently expressed by the phrase, I cannot tell, is not real, it is assumed, a poetic fiction, a dramatic disguise, a closed door to be opened for surprise, a momentary affectation of helpless embarrassment, which makes the subsequent return to intellectual vigour and sufficiency all the more striking. That this is the conscious, almost technical meaning of the phrase may be clearly shown by some Shakespearean instances, one shewing its use, others its abandonment. The mode of using the phrase is clearly explained by Scarus, Anthony's faithful friend, when his fortunes were lowest; evil portents threaten him, and those whose business is to interpret them, shrink from disclosing their import. Swallows have built In Cleopatra's sails their nest; the augurers (Ant. and Cleo., IV. xii. 4.) Evidently, I cannot tell is the formula of evasion, or insincerity: the augurers cannot, only because they dare not. The case of abandonment is to be found in the 2nd part of the old play the Contention, i.e., The True Tragedy: in which the following passage occurs: We at Saint Albons met, Our battles ioinde, and both sides fiercelie fought. But, whether twas the coldness of the King, He lookt full gentlie on his warlike Queen, That robde my souldiers of their heated spleene, Or whether twas report of his successe, Or more than common feare of Cliffords rigor, The same passage, with a few verbal alterations, (such as her success for his; captives for captains) occurs in 3 Henry VI. II. i. 120. But instead of I cannot tell, we find I cannot judge. The reason is plain. For here the perplexity is not simulated, it is real; the alternatives presented are all possible, all reasonable, and all cannot be true. The speaker has no means of selecting the true alternative, the suspense is genuine, accordingly the phrase which is only to be used for a mock perplexity is changed for one that expresses a real doubt. The incorrect version was printed in the three quartos, 1595, 1600 and 1619. The amended version appeared first in 1623, seven years after the death of William Shakspere. A similar change was made in the 1623 Edition of the Merry Wives, as compared with the two quartos of 1602 and 1619. Slender. Have you bears in your town, Mistress Anne, Anne. I cannot tell, Mr. Slender : I think there be. (I. i. 83.) This is plainly not an occasion for "I cannot tell :" it had slipped in accidentally. Accordingly the Folio has, Anne.—I think there are, Sir, I heard them talked of. (I. i. 298.) If an authentic version of these plays existed in 1619, why was the incorrect passage then re-published, why wait till 1623 for the right version? Doubtless the change was made by the author after 1619. In nearly all other cases the mental attitude of the Essay of "Truth" is reflected. Thus Richard, as Duke of Gloster, is reproached by the Queen of Edward IV., for his bitter aversion to herself and her family. Why does he hate them so; and with a shrug of mock perplexity he replies, FORMULA OF FARCE AND MELODRAMA, 57 I cannot tell; and the fantastic explanation follows, as in the Essay, I cannot tell. The world is grown so bad That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch: Since every Jack became a Gentleman There's many a gentle person made a Jack. (Richard III., I. iii. 70.) This passage may be compared with two entries in Bacon's "Promus:" "Jack would be a gentleman if he could speak French" (No. 640); and, "There is no good accord where every Jack would be a lord" (No. 968). In Falstaff's exquisitely amusing cut and thrust encounter with the Lord Chief Justice, a similar use of I cannot tell helps his persiflage. His Lordship says, "You follow the young prince up and down, like his evil angel." The wicked old jester purposely mistaking the word angel for the coin of the same name, retorts, "Not so, my lord, your ill angel is light; but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing. And yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go," (i.e., I cannot pass current for the good coin I really am). "I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these costermonger times that true valour is turned bear-herd," (i.e., I am the keeper of this young cub.) "Pregnancy [intellectual capacity] is made a tapster and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings.” (2 Hen. IV., I. ii. 185.) The technical Baconian sense of, I cannot tell, requires here to be kept in mind; for a very capable commentator paraphrases it as equivalent to, "I cannot pass-in counting." But this is already expressed by, "I cannot go." I cannot tell is the proper prelude to a farcical and hypocritical explanation which the speaker flings at his interlocutor. Another case is found in Nym's speech referring to Pistol's marriage with Dame Quickly. Nym is very mortified, he is jilted, and vows in melodramatic inuendo all sorts of sanguinary vengeance, too dreadful to be described. He, too, is at a stand (like the Essayist), to know what special atrocity is impending; he will not trust himself to say, it is a little past his control, and the formula of mock perplexity is required at both ends of his speech. "I cannot tell things must be as they may. Men may sleep; and they may have their throats about them at that time: and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may : though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell." (Hen. V. II. i. 22.) Again, Benedict, who mocks at lovers, speculates whether he shall ever himself fall in love, and be as ridiculous as Claudio. He is evidently quite sure that such an absurdity can never happen; yet he is willing to trifle with the idea and accordingly he exclaims, "May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell : I think not: I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool." (M. Ado. II. iii. 23.) The mockery is perfect, and its typical formula accurately used. So Shylock answers Antonio They had been speaking of Jacob's manœuvre to enrich himself at Laban's expense, and Antonio asks, Was this inserted to make interest good? Shylock shrugs his shoulders with affected embarrassment and replies, I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast. (Mer. V., I. iii. 95.) Sometimes the expression occurs in serious discourse, but the feigning characteristic is always present; there is some extravagance or fancy with which the speaker is intellectually toying. Thus the wounded soldier who describes the heroism of Macbeth and Banquo in battle, says, Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, I cannot tell. (Macb. I. ii. 39.) |