Keeping watch: protecting the body & soul
Rebecca Totaro's article entitled "Securing Sleep in Hamlet" presents a very interesting theory regarding the coupling of "sleep" and "watch." The word "watch" could have several different meanings. But boiling it down to the correct context is crucial in understanding how Shakespeare intended it to be used. For instance, Totaro notes: "Shakespeare and his audience inherited "sleep" and "watch" as a pair of terms that originally referred to behavior necessary to maintain a civil society. Once humans had tools, they had possessions that others might try to steal, and they had reason to establish a night watch" (409). There is a great deal of credibility to this assessment because the night watch was a crucial point of defense for an otherwise vulnerable (sleeping) society. Totaro goes on to say that in order for the watch to be successful in their duties they needed to "remain alert, recognize the signs of danger, and take action if the signs warrant it. If the watch failed in one area, it failed in all" (410).
But what exactly was the watch protecting people from? There are physical dangers to be considered: intruders, thieves, and murderers. But there are also immaterial threats also pending: sickness, spirits, and religious damnation. "Early in Christian history, monks rose in the middle of the night to demonstrate a spiritual watchfulness in the dark, when the potential for temptation was at its zenith" (Totaro, 418). If people were spiritually "asleep" there was possibility that they could suffer from what Totaro aptly called a "spiritual crisis." Even so, citizens of early modern England may not have held to such strict routines as the minks; however, texts such as Richard Day's A Booke of Christian Prayers (pictured above) do suggest that moderate sleep and spiritual wakefulness was an important practice for the protection of one's immortal soul.
But what exactly was the watch protecting people from? There are physical dangers to be considered: intruders, thieves, and murderers. But there are also immaterial threats also pending: sickness, spirits, and religious damnation. "Early in Christian history, monks rose in the middle of the night to demonstrate a spiritual watchfulness in the dark, when the potential for temptation was at its zenith" (Totaro, 418). If people were spiritually "asleep" there was possibility that they could suffer from what Totaro aptly called a "spiritual crisis." Even so, citizens of early modern England may not have held to such strict routines as the minks; however, texts such as Richard Day's A Booke of Christian Prayers (pictured above) do suggest that moderate sleep and spiritual wakefulness was an important practice for the protection of one's immortal soul.
Sleep and sovereigns: how the body is divided
According to information provided by Benjamin Parris's article "The Body is with the King, but the King is not with the Body," there is a mysterious force which bonds the King/Queen to the country and its people. Parris phrased it best: "The king was held to possess a natural body common to all humans, as well as a mystical "superbody" that perpetuates the life of the state and lends an aura of divine perfection to the sovereign" (101).
There were some theories about how this supernatural power transferred itself from one ruler to the next. Some say that the power could only be given when there was verbal consent by the retiring sovereign. Others argued that the power manifested itself to the next successor upon the death of its original host, "called in lawe Demise Le Roy" (105). By this logic, the power of the body politic was immortal, and so long as it thrived so did the kingdom it protected.
However glorious as this all sounds, this is a double edged sword. The body politic, although powerful, is heavily dependent of the health of the body natural. There are no laws written that account for what happens to this supernatural force when a sovereign sleeps. Where does it go? Does it lie dormant inside the body? While sleep is normally viewed as a rejuvenating process, it must also be acknowledged that this sweet repose is a point of vulnerability for a sovereign. While the body natural rests, the body politic is held prisoner to the flesh it inhabits, leaving it subject to endure whatever physical or spiritual assaults that plague its mortal counterpart. Shakespeare plays heavily on this idea in many of his works, especially in Macbeth.
There were some theories about how this supernatural power transferred itself from one ruler to the next. Some say that the power could only be given when there was verbal consent by the retiring sovereign. Others argued that the power manifested itself to the next successor upon the death of its original host, "called in lawe Demise Le Roy" (105). By this logic, the power of the body politic was immortal, and so long as it thrived so did the kingdom it protected.
However glorious as this all sounds, this is a double edged sword. The body politic, although powerful, is heavily dependent of the health of the body natural. There are no laws written that account for what happens to this supernatural force when a sovereign sleeps. Where does it go? Does it lie dormant inside the body? While sleep is normally viewed as a rejuvenating process, it must also be acknowledged that this sweet repose is a point of vulnerability for a sovereign. While the body natural rests, the body politic is held prisoner to the flesh it inhabits, leaving it subject to endure whatever physical or spiritual assaults that plague its mortal counterpart. Shakespeare plays heavily on this idea in many of his works, especially in Macbeth.