toutes les autres Dames Romaines s’en alla droit au camp des Volsques,
lesquelz eurent eulx-mesmes une compassion meslee de reverence quand
ils la veirent _de maniere qu’il n’y eut personne d’eulx qui luy
ozast rien dire_. Or estoit lors Martius assis en son tribunal, _avec
les marques de souverain Capitaine_,[284] et _de tout loing_ qu’il
apperceut venir des femmes, s’esmerveilla que ce pouvoit estre;
mais peu apres recognoissant sa femme, qui marchoit la premiere, il
voulut _du commencement_ perseverer en son obstinee et inflexible
_rigueur_; mais à la fin, vaincu de l’affection naturelle, estant
tout esmeu de les voir, il _ne peut_ avoir le _coeur si dur_ que de
les attendre en son siege, ains[285] en descendant plus viste que le
pas, leur alla au devant, et baisa sa mere la premiere, et la teint
assez longuement embrassee, puis sa femme et ses petits enfants,
ne se pouvant plus tenir que les _chauldes_ larmes ne luy vinssent
_aux yeux_, ny se garder de leur faire caresses, ains se laissant
aller à l’affection _du sang_ ne plus ne moins qu’à _la force_ d’un
impetueux torrent. Mais apres qu’il leur eut assez faict _d’aimable
recueil_, et qu’il apperceut que sa mere Volumnia vouloit commencer
a luy parler, il appella les principaux du conseil des Volsques pour
_ouyr ce qu’elle proposeroit_, puis elle parla en ceste maniere: “Tu
peux assez cognoistre de toy mesme, mon filz, encore que nous ne t’en
dissions rien, à voir noz accoustremens, et l’estat auquel sont noz
pauvres corps, quelle a esté nostre vie en la maison depuis tu en es
dehors; mais considere encore maintenant combien plus _mal heureuses_
et plus infortunees nous sommes icy venues que toutes les femmes du
monde, attendu que ce qui est à toutes les autres le plus doulx a
voir, la fortune nous l’a rendu le plus effroyable, faisant voir à moy
mon filz, et à celle-ci, son mary, assiegeant les murailles de son
propre païs; tellement que ce qui est à toutes autres le _souverain_
renconfort en leurs adversitez, de _prier_ et invoquer les Dieux à
leur secours, c’est ce qui nous met en plus grande perplexité, pource
que nous ne leur sçaurions demander en noz prieres victoire a nostre
païs et preservation de ta vie tout ensemble, ains toutes les plus
griefves maledictions que sçauroit imaginer contre nous un ennemy sont
_necessairement_ encloses en noz oraisons, pource qu’il est force à ta
femme et à tes enfans qu’ilz soyent privez de l’un de deux, ou de toy,
ou de leurs païs: car quant a moy, je ne suis pas deliberee d’attendre
que la fortune, moy vivante, decide _l’issue de ceste guerre_: car si
je ne te puis persuader que tu vueilles plus tost bien faire à toutes
les deux parties, que d’en _ruiner_ et destruire l’une, en preferant
amitie et concorde aux miseres et calamitez de la guerre, je veux bien
que tu saches et le tienes pour asseuré que tu n’iras jamais assaillir
ny combattre ton païs que premierement tu ne passes par dessus le corps
de celle qui t’a mis en ce monde, et ne doy point differer jusques à
voir le jour, ou que mon filz _prisonnier_ soit mené en triumphe par
ses citoyens, ou que luy mesme triumphe de son païs. Or si ainsi estoit
que je te requisse de sauver ton païs en destruisant les Volsques, ce
te serait certainement une deliberation trop mal-aisee à resoudre;
car comme il n’est point licite de ruiner son païs, aussi n’est-il
point juste de trahir ceulx qui se sont fiez en toy. Mais ce que
je te demande est une delivrance de maulx, laquelle est egalement
_profitable_ et salutaire à l’un et à l’autre peuple, mais plus
honorable aux Volsques, pource qu’il semblera qu’ayans la victoire en
main, ils nous auront de grace donné deux souverains biens, la paix et
l’amitié, encore qu’ilz n’en prennent pas moins pour eulx, duquel tu
seras principal autheur, s’il se fait; et, s’il ne se fait, tu en auras
seul le _reproche et le blasme_[286] total envers l’une et l’autre des
parties: ainsi _estant l’issue de la guerre_ incertaine,[287] cela
neantmoins est bien tout certain que, si tu en demoures vaincueur,
il t’en restera _ce profit_, que tu en seras estimé la _peste_ et la
ruine de ton païs: et si tu es vaincu, on dira que pour un _appetit
de venger tes propres injures_ tu auras esté cause de tres griefves
calamitez à ceulx qui t’avoient humainement et amiablement recueilly.”
Martius escouta ces paroles de Volumnia sa mere sans l’interrompre,
et apres qu’elle eut acheve de dire demoura longtemps tout _picqué_
sans luy respondre. Parquoy elle reprit la parole et recommencea à luy
dire: “Que ne me respons-tu, mon filz? Estimes-tu qu’il soit licite de
conceder tout à son ire et à son appetit de vengeance, et non honeste
de condescendre et _incliner_ aux prieres de sa mere en si grandes
choses? Et _cuides-tu_ qu’il soit convenable a un grand personnage, se
souvenir des torts qu’on luy a faits et _des injures passees_, et que
ce ne soit point acte d’homme de bien et de grand cueur, _recognoistre_
les bienfaicts que reçoyvent les enfans de leurs peres et meres, en
leur portant honneur et reverence? Si[288] n’y a il homme en ce monde
qui deust mieux observer tous les poincts de gratitude que toy, veu que
tu poursuis si asprement une ingratitude: et si[289] y a davantage,
que tu as ja fait payer a ton païs de grandes amendes pour les torts
que l’on t’y a faits, et n’as encore fait aucune recognoissance a
ta mere; pourtant seroit-il plus honeste que sans autre contrainte
j’_impetrasse_[290] de toy une requeste si juste et si raisonnable.
Mais puis que _par raison_ je ne le te puis persuader, à quel besoing
espargne-je plus, et _differe-je_ la derniere esperance.” En disant
ces paroles elle se jetta elle mesme, avec sa femme et ses enfans, a
ses pieds. Ce que Martius _ne pouvant supporter_, la releva tout aussi
tost en s’escriant: “O mere, que m’as tu faict?” et un luy serrant
estroittement la main droite: “Ha,” dit il, “Mere, tu as vaincu une
victoire heureuse pour ton païs mais bien _malheureuse_ et mortelle
pour ton filz, car je m’en revois[291] vaincu par toy seule.”
[283] _together with._
[284] A mistranslation of the Greek phrase, μετὰ τῶν ἡγεμονικῶν, from
which it must come. The Latin is correct and unmistakable.
[285] But.
[286] Greek αἰτίαν, Latin noxam crimenque.
[287] Latin: cumque incertus belli sit eventus.
[288] Yet.
[289] Yet.
[290] An unusual word in French. Compare the _impetrare_ of the Latin.
[291] ἄπειμι, revais = retourne.
NORTH’S VERSION.
She tooke her daughter in lawe, and Martius children with her, and
being accompanied with all the other Romaine ladies, they went _in
troupe_ together unto the Volsces camp: whome when they sawe, they of
them selves did both pitie and reverence her, and there was not a man
amonge them that once durst say a worde unto her. Nowe was Martius
set then in his chayer of state, with all the honours of a generall,
and when he had spied the women coming a farre of, he marveled what
the matter ment: but afterwardes knowing his wife which came formest,
he determined at the first to persist in his obstinate and inflexible
rancker. But overcomen in the ende with naturall affection, and being
altogether altered to see them; his harte _would not serve him_ to
tarie their comming to his chayer, but comming down in hast, he went to
meete them, and first he kissed his mother, and imbraced her a pretie
while, then his wife and litle children. And _Nature so wrought with
him_, that the[292] teares fell from his eyes, and he coulde not keepe
him selfe from making much of them, but yeelded to the affection of his
bloode as if he had bene _violently_ caried with the furie of a most
swift running streame. After he had thus lovingly received them, and
perceiving that his mother Volumnia would beginne to speake to him, he
called the chiefest of the counsell of the Volsces to heare what she
would say. Then she spake in this sorte: “If we held our peace, (my
sonne) and _determined not to speake_, the state of our poor bodies,
and _present_ sight of our rayment, would easely bewray to thee what
life we have led at home, since thy exile and abode abroad. But thinke
nowe with thy selfe, how much more unfortunatly,[293] then all the
women livinge we are come hether, considering that the sight which
should be most pleasaunt to all other to beholde, _spitefull_ fortune
hath made most fearefull to us: making my selfe to see my sonne, and
my daughter here, her husband, besieging the walles of his native
countrie. So as that which is thonly comforte to all other in their
adversitie and _miserie_, to pray unto the goddes and to call to them
for aide; is the _onely_ thinge which _plongeth_ us into most deepe
perplexitie. For we can not (alas) together pray, both for victorie,
for our countrie, and for safetie of thy life also: but a _worlde_ of
grievous curses, _yea more then any mortall_ enemie can heape uppon us,
are forcibly wrapt up in our prayers. For the _bitter soppe of most
hard choyce_ is offered thy wife and children, to forgoe the one of the
two: either to lose the _persone_ of thy selfe, or the _nurse_ of[294]
their native contrie. For my selfe (my sonne) I am determined not to
tarie, till fortune in my life time do make an ende of this warre. For
if I cannot persuade thee, rather to doe good unto both parties than to
overthrowe and destroye the one, preferring love and _nature_ before
the _malice_ and calamitie of warres: _thou shalt_ see, my sonne, and
trust unto it,[295] thou shalt no soner marche forward to assault
thy countrie, but thy foote shall treade upon thy mothers _wombe_,
that brought thee first into this world. And I maye not deferre to
see the daye, either that my sonne be led prisoner in triumphe by his
_naturall_ country men, or that he him selfe doe triumphe _of them_,
and of his _naturall_ countrie. For if it were so, that my request
tended to save thy countrie, in destroying the Volsces: _I must
confesse_, thou wouldest hardly and _doubtfully_ resolve on that. For
as to destroye thy naturall countrie it is altogether _unmete_ and
unlawfull; so were it not just, and _lesse honorable_, to betraye those
that put their trust in thee. But my only demaunde consisteth to make a
_gayle_[296] deliverie of all evills, which delivereth equall benefit
and safety both to the one and the other, but most honorable for the
Volsces. For it shall appeare, that having victorie in their hands,
they have of speciall favour graunted us singular graces; peace, and
amitie, albeit them selves have no lesse parte of both, then we. Of
which _good_, if so it came to passe, thy selfe is thonly authour, _and
so hast thou thonly honour_. But if it faile, _and fall out contrarie_:
thy selfe alone _deservedly_ shall carie the _shameful_ reproche and
burden of either partie. So, though the ende of warre be uncertaine,
yet this notwithstanding is most certaine: that if it be thy chaunce
to conquer, this benefit shalt thou _reape_ of _thy goodly conquest_,
to be chronicled the plague and destroyer of thy countrie. And if
fortune also overthrowe thee, then the worlde will saye, that through
desire to revenge thy private injuries, thou hast _for ever_ undone
thy good friendes, who dyd most lovingly and curteously receyve thee.”
Martius gave good eare unto his mothers wordes, without interrupting
_her speache at all_: and after she had sayed _what she would_, he held
his peace a prety while,[297] and annswered not a worde. Hereupon she
beganne again to speake unto him, and sayed: “My sonne, why doest thou
not aunswer me? Doest thou think it good altogether to geve place unto
thy choller and desire of revenge, and thinkest thou it not honestie
for thee to graunt[298] thy mothers request in so weighty a cause?
doest thou take it honorable for a noble man, to remember the wrongs
and injuries done him: and doest not in like case thinke it an honest
noble man’s parte, to be thankefull for the goodnes that parents doe
shewe to their children, acknowledging the duety and reverence _they
ought to beare unto them_?[299] No man living is more bounde to shewe
him selfe thankefull in all partes and respects then thy selfe: who
so unnaturally sheweth all ingratitude.[300] Moreover (my sonne) thou
hast sorely taken of thy countrie, exacting grievous payments apon
them, in revenge of the injuries offered thee: besides, thou hast not
hitherto shewed thy poore mother any curtesie.[301] And therefore it
is _not only_ honest, _but due unto me_, that without compulsion I
should obtaine my so just and reasonable request of thee. But since by
reason I cannot persuade thee to it, to what purpose do I deferre[302]
my last hope?” And with these wordes her selfe, his wife and children
fell downe upon their knees before him. Martius seeing that could
refraine no longer but _went straight_ and lifte her up, crying out:
“Oh mother, what have you done to me?” And holding her hard by the
right hand, “Oh mother,” sayed he, “You have wonne a happy victorie for
your countrie, but mortall and unhappy for your sonne: for I see[303]
myself vanquished by you alone.”
[292] No _chauldes_.
[293] Adverb for adjective, omission of one duplicate.
[294] _of_, appositional.
[295] Not so clear as the French.
[296] gaol.
[297] picqué not translated.
[298] One of Amyot’s duplicates wanting.
[299] Important connective particle omitted.
[300] Quite wrong. The French means: “Since you so bitterly pursue
ingratitude.”
[301] In this sentence North again misses the point of the argument.
The meaning is “And there is this further point as well, that you have
already in a measure requited your wrongs, but never yet shown your
gratitude.”
[302] One of Amyot’s duplicate expressions omitted.
[303] A pardonable mistranslation of the French; which, however, proves
that in this passage at least North consulted neither the Greek nor the
Latin.
SHAKESPEARE’S VERSION.
The narrative which ushers in the speech is of course left to the
actors. It is interesting, however, to observe that Shakespeare varies
from his authorities in making Coriolanus embrace not his mother but
his wife in the first instance. He inserts too the conversation, that,
at first merely personal, leads up to the grand question. Then Volumnia
proceeds with her speech. It is impossible to note all the minute
changes that Shakespeare makes. The Italics in the following reprint
represent most generously what he has borrowed, for even in the clauses
and phrases indicated as loans there is abundant evidence of his own
irrepressible dramatic and poetic originality.
_Vol._ _Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment
And state of bodies would bewray what life
We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither: since that thy sight_, which should
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow;
_Making the mother, wife_, and child to see
_The son, the husband_, and the father tearing
His country’s bowels out. _And to poor we
Thine enmity’s most capital: thou barr’st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy; for how can we,
Alas, how can we for our country pray_,
Whereto we are bound, _together with thy victory_,
Whereto we are bound? _alack, or we must lose
The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person_,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had
Our wish, which side should win: for _either thou
Must_, as a foreign recreant, _be led_
With manacles thorough our streets, or _else
Triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin_
And bear the palm for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children’s blood. _For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune till
These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee
Rather to show a noble grace to both parts
Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country than to tread_—
_Trust to’t thou shalt not—on thy mother’s womb,
That brought thee to this world._
_Vir._ Ay, and mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.
_Young Mar._ A’ shall not tread on me;
I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.
_Cor._ Not of a woman’s tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.
I have sat too long. [_Rising._
_Vol._ Nay, go not from us thus,
_If it were so that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us_,
As poisonous of your honour: no; _our suit
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
May say “This mercy we have show’d”; the Romans,
“This we received”; and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee; and cry “Be blest
For making up this peace!_” Thou know’st, great son,
_The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name_,
Whose repetition will be dogg’d with curses;
_Whose chronicle thus writ_: “The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wiped it out;
_Destroy’d his country_, and his name remains
To the ensuing age abhorr’d.” Speak to me, son:
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods;
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ the air,
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
_Think’st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs?_ Daughter, speak you:
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy:
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons. _There’s no man in the world
More bound to’s mother_; yet here he lets me prate
Like one i’ the stocks. _Thou hast never in thy life
Show’d thy dear mother any courtesy_,
When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,
Has cluck’d thee to the wars and safely home,
Loaden with honour. _Say my request’s unjust,
And spurn me back: but if it be not so,
Thou art not honest_; and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain’st from me the duty which
To a mother’s part belongs. He turns away:
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus ’longs more pride
Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end;
This is the last: so we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold’s:
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength
Than thou hast to deny’t. Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli and his child
Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch:
I am hush’d until our city be afire,
And then I’ll speak a little.
[_He holds her by the hand, silent._
_Cor._ _O mother, mother!
What have you done?_ Behold, the heavens do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
_You have won a happy victory to Rome;
But, for your son_,—believe it, O, believe it,
_Most dangerously you have with him prevail’d,
If not most mortal to him._ But, let it come.
APPENDIX C
SHAKESPEARE’S ALLEGED INDEBTEDNESS TO APPIAN IN _JULIUS CAESAR_
Plutarch gives little more than the situation and the _motif_ for
Antony’s oration. He has two accounts of the incident.
(_a_) When Caesars body was brought into the Market
Place, Antonius making his funeral oration in praise of the
dead according to the ancient custom of Rome, and perceiving
that his wordes moved the common people to compassion; he
framed his eloquence to make their harts yerne the more,
and taking Caesars gowne all bloudy in his hand, he layed
it open to the sight of them all, shewing what a number of
cuts and holes it had upon it. Therewithall the people fell
presently into such a rage and mutinie, that there was no
more order kept amongs the common people.
(_Marcus Brutus._)
(_b_) When Caesars body was brought to the place
where it should be buried, he made a funeral oration in
commendacion of Caesar, according to the auncient custom of
praising noble men at their funerals. When he saw that the
people were very glad and desirous to heare Caesar spoken
of, and his praises uttered: he mingled his oration with
lamentable wordes, and by amplifying of matters did greatly
move their harts and affections unto pitie and compassion.
In fine to conclude his oration, he unfolded before the
whole assembly the bloudy garments of the dead, thrust
through in many places with their swords, and called the
malefactors, cruell and cursed murtherers. With these words
he put the people into ... a fury.
(_Marcus Antonius._)
Shakespeare certainly did not get much of the stuff for Antony’s speech
from these notices.
Appian, on the other hand, gives a much fuller report, which was quite
accessible to ordinary readers, for Appian had been published in 1578
by Henrie Bynniman.[304]
[304] Under the title: “An auncient Historie and exquisite Chronicle
of the Romanes warres, both Ciuile and Foren. Written in Greeke by the
noble Orator and Historiographer Appian of Alexandria.”
The English version of the most important passages runs thus:
Antony marking how they were affected, did not let it
slippe, but toke upon him to make Caesars funeral sermon,
as Consul, of a Consul, friend of a friend, and kinsman, of
a kinsman (for Antony was partly his kinsman) and to use
craft againe. And thus he said: “I do not thinke it meete
(O citizens) that the buriall praise of suche a man, should
rather be done by me, than by the whole country. For what
you have altogither for the loue of hys vertue giuen him
by decree, aswell the Senate as the people, I thinke your
voice, and not Antonies, oughte to expresse it.”
This he uttered with sad and heauy cheare, and wyth a
framed voice, declared euerything, chiefly upon the decree,
whereby he was made a God, holy and inuiolate, father of the
country, benefactor and gouernor, and suche a one, as neuer
in al things they entituled other man to the like. At euery
of these words Antonie directed his countenance and hands to
Caesars body, and with vehemencie of words opened the fact.
At euery title he gaue an addition, with briefe speach,
mixte with pitie and indignation. And when the decree named
him father of the country, then he saide: “This is the
testimony of our duety.”
And at these wordes, _holy_, _inuiolate_ and _untouched_,
and _the refuge of all other_, he said: “None other made
refuge of hym. But he, this holy and untouched, is kylled,
not takyng honoure by violences whiche he neuer desired, and
then be we verye thrall that bestowe them on the unworthy,
neuer suing for them. But you doe purge your selves (O
Citizens) of this unkindnesse, in that you nowe do use suche
honoure towarde hym being dead.”
Then rehearsing the othe, that all shoulde keepe Caesar
and Caesars body, and if any one wente about to betraye
hym, that they were accursed that would not defende him: at
this he extolled hys voice, and helde up his handes to the
Capitoll, saying:
“O Jupiter, Countries defendour, and you other Gods, I am
ready to reuenge, as I sware and made execration, and when
it seemes good to my companions to allowe the decrees, I
desire them to aide me.”
At these plaine speeches spoken agaynst the Senate, an
uproare being made, Antony waxed colde, and recanted hys
wordes. “It seemeth, (O Citizens),” saide hee, “that the
things done haue not bin the worke of men but of Gods, and
that we ought to haue more consideration of the present,
than of the past, bycause the thyngs to come, maye bring us
to greater danger than these we haue, if we shall returne to
oure olde [dissentions], and waste the reste of the noble
men that be in the Cittie. Therefore let us send thys holy
one to the number of the blessed, and sing to him his due
hymne and mourning verse.”
When he had saide thus, he pulled up his gowne lyke a man
beside hymselfe, and gyrded it, that he might the better
stirre his handes: he stoode ouer the Litter, as from a
Tabernacle, looking into it and opening it, and firste
sang his Himne, as to a God in heauen. And to confirme he
was a God, he held up his hands, and with a swift voice he
rehearsed the warres, the fights, the victories, the nations
that he had subdued to his countrey, and the great booties
that he had sent, making euery one to be a maruell. Then
with a continuall crie,
“This is the only unconquered of all that euer came
to hands with hym. Thou (quoth he) alone diddest
reuenge thy countrey being iniured, 300 years, and
those fierce nations that only inuaded Rome, and only
burned it, thou broughtest them on their knees.”
And when he had made these and many other inuocations,
he tourned hys voice from triumphe to mourning matter,
and began to lament and mone him as a friend that had bin
uniustly used, and did desire that he might giue hys soule
for Caesars. Then falling into moste vehement affections,
uncouered Caesars body, holding up his vesture with a
speare, cut with the woundes, and redde with the bloude of
the chiefe Ruler, by the which the people lyke a Quire,
did sing lamentation unto him, and with this passion were
againe repleate with ire. And after these speeches, other
lamentations wyth voice after the Country custome, were sung
of the Quires, and they rehearsed again his acts and his hap.
Then made he Caesar hymselfe to speake as it were in a
lamentable sort, to howe many of his enimies he hadde done
good by name, and of the killers themselves to say as in an
admiration, “Did I saue them that haue killed me?” This the
people could not abide, calling to remembraunce, that all
the kyllers (only Decimus except) were of Pompey’s faction,
and subdued by hym, to whom, in stead of punishment, he had
giuen promotion of offices, gouernments of prouinces and
armies, and thought Decimus worthy to be made his heyre and
son by adoption, and yet conspired his death.[305]
[305] In Schweighäuser’s Edition II. cxliii. to cxlvi.
Now, this is not very like the oration in the play. It may be analysed
and summarised as follows:
Antony begins by praising the deceased as a consul a consul, a friend a
friend, a kinsman a kinsman. He recites the public honours awarded to
Caesar as a better testimony than his private opinion, and accompanies
the enumeration with provocative comment. He touches on Caesar’s
sacrosanct character and the unmerited honours bestowed on those who
slew him, but acquits the citizens of unkindness on the ground of their
presence at the funeral. He avows his own readiness for revenge, and
thus censures the policy of the Senate, but admits that that policy may
be for the public interest. He intones a hymn in honour of the deified
Caesar; reviews his wars, battles, victories, the provinces annexed
and the spoils transmitted to Rome, and glances at the subjugation of
the Gauls as the payment of an ancient score. He uncovers the body of
Caesar and displays the pierced and blood-stained garment to the wrath
of the populace. He puts words in the mouth of the dead, and makes him
cite the names of those whom he had benefited and preserved that they
should destroy him. And the people brook no more.
Thus Appian’s Antony differs from Shakespeare’s Antony in his
attitude to his audience, in the arrangement of his material, and to
a considerable extent in the material itself. Nevertheless, in some
of the details the speeches correspond. It is quite possible that
Shakespeare, while retaining Plutarch’s general scheme, may have
filled it in with suggestions from Appian. The evidence is not very
convincing, but the conjecture is greatly strengthened by the apparent
loans from the same quarter in _Antony and Cleopatra_, which would show
that he was acquainted with the English translation. See Appendix D.
APPENDIX D
SHAKESPEARE’S LOANS FROM APPIAN IN _ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA_
I do not think there can be any serious doubt about Shakespeare’s
having consulted the 1578 translation of the _Bella Civilia_ for this
play, at any rate for the parts dealing with Sextus Pompeius. The most
important passage is the one (_A. and C._ III. v. 19) which records
Antony’s indignation at Pompey’s death. Now of that death there is no
mention at all in the _Marcus Antonius_ of Plutarch; and even in the
_Octavius Caesar Augustus_ by Simon Goulard, which was included in the
1583 edition of Amyot and in the 1603 edition of North, it is expressly
attributed to Antony. Here is Goulard’s statement:[306]
Whilst Antonius made war with the Parthians, or rather
infortunately they made war with him to his great confusion,
his lieutenant Titius found the means to lay hands upon
Sextus Pompeius; that was fled into the ile of Samos, and
then forty years old: whom he put to death by Antonius’
commandment.
[306] I quote from _Shakespeare’s Plutarch_ (Prof. Skeat), the 1603
edition of North being at present inaccessible to me.
Appian at least leaves it an open question whether Antony was
responsible or not, and thus gives his apologist an opportunity:
Titius commaunded hys (_i.e._ Pompey’s) army to sweare to
Antony, and put hym to death at Mileto, when he hadde lyved
to the age of fortye yeares, eyther for that he remembered
late displeasure and forgot olde good turnes, or for that he
had such commaundemente of Antony.
_There bee that saye that Plancus, and not Antony did
commaunde hym to dye, whyche beeyng president of Syria had
Antonyes signet, and in greate causes wrote letters in hys
name._ Some thynke it was done wyth Antonyes knowledge, he
fearyng the name of Pompey, or for Cleopatra, who fauoured
Pompey the Great.
_Some thynke that Plancus dyd it of hymselfe_ for these
causes, and also that Pompey shoulde gyve no cause of
dissention between Caesar and Antony, or for that Cleopatra
would turn hyr favour to Pompey.
(V. cxiv.)
I do not think indeed that there is any indication that Shakespeare
had read, or at all events been in any way impressed by, Goulard’s
_Augustus_: no wonder, for compared with the genuine _Lives_, it is a
dull performance. The only other passages with which a connection might
be traced, do no more than give hints that are better given in Appian.
Thus Sextus Pompeius’ vein of chivalry, of which there is hardly a
suggestion in Plutarch’s brief notices, is illustrated in Goulard by
his behaviour to the fugitives from the proscription.
Pompeius had sent certain ships to keep upon the coast of
Italy, and pinnaces everywhere, to the end to receive all
them that fled on that side; giving them double recompence
that saved a proscript, and honourable offices to men that
had been consuls and escaped, comforting and entertaining
the others with a most singular courtesy.
But Appian says all this too in greater detail, and adds the
significant touch:
So was he moste profitable to hys afflicted Countrey, and
wanne greate glory to hymselfe, _not inferioure to that he
hadde of hys father_.
(IV. xxxvi.)
Note particularly this reference to his father’s reputation, for which
there is no parallel in Plutarch or Goulard; and compare
Our slippery people
... begin to throw
Pompey the Great, and all his dignities
Upon his son.
(_A. and C._ I. ii. 192.)
and
Rich in his father’s honour.
(_Ib._ I. iii. 50.)
Again, Goulard, talking of the last struggle, says:
After certain encounters, where Pompey ever had the better,
insomuch as Lepidus was suspected to lean on that side, Caesar
resolved to commit all to the hazard of a latter battle.
The insinuation in regard to Lepidus might be taken as the foundation
for Shakespeare’s statement, which has no sanction in Plutarch, that
Caesar
accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey.
(_A. and C._ III. v. 10.)
But it seems a closer echo of a remark of Appian’s about some
transactions shortly after Philippi:
Lepidus was accused to favour Pompey’s part.
(V. iii.)
There are, moreover, several touches in Shakespeare’s sketch, that he
could no more get from Goulard than from Plutarch, but that are to be
found in Appian. Thus there is Pompey’s association with the party
of the “good Brutus” and the enthusiasm he expresses for “beauteous
freedom” (_A. and C._ II. vi. 13 and 17). Compare passages like the
following in Appian:
Sextus Pompey, the seconde son of Pompey the Great being
lefte of that faction, was sette up of Brutus friends.
(V. i.)
Pompey’s friends hearing of this, did marvellously rejoyce,
crying now to be time to restore their Countrey’s libertie.
(III. lxxxii.)
Thus, too, Shakespeare refers to Pompey’s command of “the empire of the
sea” (_A. and C._ I. ii. 191), which, if Plutarch were his authority,
would be an unjustifiable exaggeration. Yet it exactly corresponds to
the facts of the case as Appian repeatedly states them, and perhaps one
of Binniman’s expressions suggested the very phrase.
Pompey _being Lorde of the Sea_ ... caused famine in
the cittie all victuall beyng kepte away.
(V. xv.)
The Citie in the meane time was in great penurie, their
provision of corne beyng stopped by Pompey.
(V. xviii.)
In the meane time the cytie was oppressed with famine, for
neyther durst the Merchauntes bring any corn from the East
bicause of Pompeis beeing in Sicelie, nor from the Weast of
Corsica and Sardinia, where Pompeis ships also lay: nor from
Africa, where the navies of the other conspiratours kepte
their stations. Being in this distresse, they (_i.e._ the
people) alleaged that the discorde of the rulers was the cause,
and therefore required that peace might be made with Pompey,
unto the whiche when Caesar woulde not agree, Antonie thought
warre was needefull for necessitie.
(V. lxvii.)
Then there are the frequent references of Antony (_A. and C._ I. ii.
192, I. iii. 148), of the messenger (I. iv. 38, I. iv. 52), of Pompey
himself (II. i. 9), to Pompey’s popularity and the rush of recruits
to his standard. Neither Goulard nor Plutarch makes mention of these
points, but Appian does often, and most emphatically in the following
passage:
Out of Italy all things were not quiet, for Pompey by
resorte of condemned Citizens, and auntient possessioners
was greatly increased, both in mighte, and estimation:
for they that feared their life, or were spoyled of their
goodes, or lyked not the present state, fledde all to hym.
And this disagreemente of Lucius augmented his credite:
beside a repayre of yong men, desirous of gayne and seruice,
not caring under whome they went, because they were all
Romanes, sought unto him. And among other, hys cause seemed
most just. He was waxed rich by booties of the Sea, and
he hadde good store of Shyppes, with their furniture....
Wherefore me thynke, that if he had then inuaded Italy,
he might easily have gotte it, which being afflicted with
famine and discord loked for him. But Pompey of ignorance
had rather defend his owne, than inuade others, till so he
was ouercome also.
(V. xxv.)
It should be noted too that Menas, to whom Appian always gives his full
formal name of Menodorus, not only as in Plutarch proposes to make
away with the Triumvirs after the compact, but as in the play (II,
vi. 84 and 109) and not as in Plutarch, disapproves the cessation of
hostilities.
All other persuaded Pompey earnestly to peace, only
Menodorus wrote from Sardinia that he should make open
_warre, or dryve off_,[307] whyles the dearth continued,
_that he might make peace with_ the better conditions.
(V. lxxi.)
[307] _i.e._ put off. Greek, βραδύνειν.
I have not noticed any other points of importance in which there is
an apparent connection between the drama and the _Roman History_:
unless indeed Antony’s passing compunction for Fulvia’s death may be so
regarded.
Newes came that Antonies wyfe was dead, who coulde not bear
his unkyndenesse, leavyng her sicke, & not bidding hyr
farewell. Hir death was thought very commodius for them
both. For Fulvia was an unquiet woman, & for ielousie of
Cleopatra, raysed suche a mortall warre. Yet the matter
vexed Antony bicause he was compted the occasion of her death.
(V. lix.)
Here, however, the motive of Antony’s regret differs from that which
Shakespeare attributes to him; and on the whole the references to
Fulvia in the play deviate even more from Appian’s account than
from Plutarch’s. So far as I am in a position to judge, Shakespeare
derived all his other historical data, as well as the general scheme
into which he fitted these trifling loans, from Plutarch’s _Life_,
and can be considered a debtor to Appian only in the points that are
illustrated in my previous extracts.
But there are two qualifications I should like to make to this
statement.
In the first place, I have not seen the 1578 version of Appian, the
passages I have quoted being merely transcripts made by my direction. I
have had only the original text to work upon, and it is possible that
the Tudor Translation might offer verbal coincidences that of course
would not suggest themselves to me.
In the second place, the book is not merely a translation of Appian.
The descriptive title runs: “An auncient historie and exquisite
chronicle of the Romanes warres, both civile and foren ... with a
continuation ... from the death of Sextus Pompeius to the overthrow of
Antonie and Cleopatra.”
Appian’s History of the Civil Wars, as now extant, concludes at the
death of Sextus Pompeius. The Tudor translator’s continuation till
the deaths of Antony and Cleopatra may be responsible for some of the
later deviations from Plutarch, which I have described as independent
modifications of Shakespeare’s. The matter is worth looking into.
Meanwhile, from my collation I draw two conclusions, the first
definitive, the second provisional:
(1) That Shakespeare laid Appian under contribution to fill
in the details of his picture.
(2) That he borrowed from him, that is, from his English
translator, only for the episode of Sextus Pompeius.
APPENDIX E
CLEOPATRA’S _ONE WORD_
Professor Th. Zielinski of St. Petersburg suggests a peculiar
interpretation of this passage in his _Marginalien_ (_Philologus_,
N.F., Band xviii. 1905). He starts from the assertion that Shakespeare
had in his mind Ovid’s _Epistle from Dido_ (_Heroid._ vii.) when he
composed the parting scene between Antony and Cleopatra. This statement
is neither self-evident nor initially probable. Shakespeare was no
doubt acquainted with portions of Ovid both in the original and in
translation, but there is not much indication that his knowledge
extended to the _Heroides_. Mr. Churton Collins, indeed, in his plea
for Shakespeare’s familiarity with Latin, calls attention to the
well-known pair of quotations from these poems, the one in _3 Henry
VI._, the other in the _Taming of the Shrew_. But though Mr. Collins
makes good his general contention, he hardly strengthens it with these
examples: for Shakespeare’s share in both plays is so uncertain that
no definite inference can be drawn from them. Apart from these more
than doubtful instances, there seems to be no reference in Shakespeare
to the _Heroides_, either in the Latin of Ovid or in the English of
Turberville; and it would be strange to find one cropping up here.
But Professor Zielinski gives his arguments, and one of them is
certainly plausible. He quotes:
What says the married woman? You may go:
Would she had never given you leave to come;
(_A. and C._ I. iii. 20.)
and compares
“Sed iubet ire deus.” Vellem vetuisset adire.
(_Her._ VII. 37.)
There is a coincidence, but it is not very close, and scarcely implies
imitation. Moreover, it becomes even less striking in the English
version; which, after all, Shakespeare is more likely to have known, if
he knew the poem at all:
But God doth force thee flee; would God had kept away
Such guilefull guests, and Troians had in Carthage made no stay.[308]
[308] _The Heroycall Epistles of the learned poet Publius Ouidius Naso
in English verse: set out and translated by George Turberville, gent_,
etc. Transcribed from a copy in the Bodleian, which Malone, who owned
it, conjecturally dated 1569.
Professor Zielinski’s next argument is singularly unconvincing. He
says: “The situation (_i.e._ in the Epistle and in the Play) is
parallel even in details, as everyone will tell himself: moreover the
poet himself confesses it:
Where souls do couch on flowers, we’ll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
Dido and her Æneas shall want troops
And all the haunt be ours.”
(IV. xiv. 51.)
But in the first place this has reference not to the separation but to
the reunion: and in the second place, of the reunion there is no word
in the Epistle. I cannot therefore see how Shakespeare’s lines can be
taken as a confession of indebtedness to Ovid. But these analogies,
real or imaginary, lead up to Professor Zielinski’s main point. He
quotes as what he calls the “Motiv des Kindes” and considers the
distinctive feature of Ovid’s treatment, Dido’s reproach:
Forsitan et gravidam Didon, scelerate, relinquas,
Parsque tui lateat corpore clausa meo. (line 131.)
He admits that it is not easy to find this “Motiv” in the play, but
argues that Shakespeare was always very reticent in such regards.
Then he proceeds: “Hier nun war Kleopatra tatsächlich schwanger, als
Antonius sie verliess: Plutarch setzt es c. 36 voraus, und Shakespeare
wird es gewusst haben, da er Act III. die Kinder erwähnt. Sollte er in
der grossen Abschieds-scene das dankbare Motiv haben entgehen lassen?
Sehn wir zu. Kleopatra spielt die nervöse, ihr ist bald gut, bald
schlecht: ‘schnür mich auf ... nein, lass es sein.’ Ihre ungerechten
Vorwürfe bringen den Antonius endlich auf; er will gehn. Sie hält
ihn zurück: _courteous lord, one word_. Wir erwarten eine wichtige
Erklärung; was wird das ‘eine Wort’ sein?
Sir, you and I must part—but that’s not it:
Sir, you and I have loved—but there’s not it;
That you know well: something it is I would—
O, _my oblivion is a very Antony_,
And I am all forgotten.
Es ist für den klassischen Philologen erheiternd und tröstlich, die
Commentare zum hervorgehoben verse zu lesen: dieselben Torheiten, wie
bei uns, wenn einer das erklären muss, was er selber nicht versteht.
Man wollte sogar _oblivion_ hinausconjiciren: andere befehlen es
= _memory_ zu nehmen. Was wird dadurch gewonnen? Ich verlange das
versprochene ‘eine wort.’—‘Ja, das hat sie eben vergessen’—Ich danke.
Nein, sie hat es ausgesprochen: ihr ‘Vergessen’ war in der Tat ‘ein
echter Antonius,’ wenn auch ein ganz kleiner. Und als der Freund die
Anspielung nicht versteht—_I should take you for idleness itself_—fährt
sie bitter fort:
’Tis sweating labour
_To bear such idleness so near the heart_,
As Cleopatra _this_.
(das _this_ mit discret hinweisender Geberde).... Es wäre Mangel
an Zartgefühl, mehr zu verlangen.—Und wirklich, besser als die
Erklärer hat ein Dichter den Dichter verstanden; ich meine Puschkin,
der in einer Stelle seiner lieblichen ‘Nixe’ (Rusalka) die oben
ausgeschriebenen Worte der Kleopatra offenbar nachahmen wollte:
_Fürst._ Leb’ wohl.
_Mädchen._ Nein, wart ... ich muss dir etwas sagen ...
Weiss nimmer was.
_Fürst._ So denke nach!
_Mädchen._ Für dich
Wär ich bereit.... Nein das ist’s nicht.... So wart doch.
Ich kann’s nicht glauben, dass du mich auf ewig
Verlassen willst.... Nein, das ist’s immer nicht....
Jetzt hab’ ich’s: heut war’s, dass zum ersten Mal
Dein kind sich unter’m Herzen mir bewegte.”
This is very ingenious, and the parallel from Puschkin is very
interesting. What makes one doubtful is that from first to last
Shakespeare slurs over the motherhood of Cleopatra, to which the
other tragedians of the time give great prominence. On the whole he
obliterates even those references that Plutarch makes to this aspect
of his heroine, and it would therefore be odd if he went out of his
way to invent an allusion which does not fit in with the rest of the
picture, and which is without consequence and very obscure. If one were
forced to conjecture the “missing word,” it would be more plausible to
suppose that she both wishes and hesitates to suggest marriage with
Antony. At the close, her exclamation:
Husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
(V. ii. 290.)
shows that she recognises the dignity of the sanction. At the outset,
she feels the falsity of her position, as we see from her reference to
“the married woman”; and in Plutarch Shakespeare had read the complaint
of her partisans, that “Cleopatra, being borne a Queene of so many
thousands of men, is onely named Antonius Leman.” In Rome the marriage
is assumed to be quite probable; and in this very scene Antony, after
announcing the removal of the grand impediment by Fulvia’s death, has
just professed his unalterable devotion to his Queen. Why should there
not be a marriage, unless he regards her merely as a mistress; and why
should she not propose it, except that she fears to meet with this
rebuff? The “sweating labour” she bears would thus be her unsanctioned
love and its disgrace.
This, however, is not put forward as a serious interpretation, but
only as a theory quite as possible as Professor Zielinski’s. The most
obvious and the most satisfactory way is to suppose, as probably almost
every reader does and has done, that she is merely making pretexts
to postpone the separation. And there is surely no great difficulty
about the phrase: “My oblivion is a very Antony.” Here too the obvious
explanation is the most convincing: “My forgetfulness is as great as
Antony’s own.”
APPENDIX F
THE “INEXPLICABLE” PASSAGE IN _CORIOLANUS_
Coleridge, in his _Notes on Shakespeare_ (1818, Section IV.), calls
attention to the difficulty of Aufidius’ speech to his lieutenant:
All places yield to him ere he sits down;
And the nobility of Rome are his:
The senators and patricians love him too:
The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
To expel him thence. I think he’ll be to Rome
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature. First he was
A noble servant to them; but he could not
Carry his honours even: whether ’twas pride,
Which out of daily fortune ever taints
The happy man; whether defect of judgement,
To fail in the disposing of those chances
Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
Not to be other than one thing, not moving
From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace
Even with the same austerity and garb
As he controll’d the war; but one of these—
As he hath spices of them all, not all,
For I dare so far free him—made him fear’d,
So hated, and so banish’d, but he has a merit,
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation of the time;
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
To extol what it hath done.
One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail.
Come, let’s away. When, Caius, Rome is thine,
Thou art poor’st of all: then shortly art thou mine.
(IV. vii. 28.)
Here there are puzzling expressions in detail, but they have on the
whole been satisfactorily explained, and it is not to them that
Coleridge refers.[309] He says: “I have always thought this in itself
so beautiful speech the least explicable from the mood and full
intention of the speaker of any in the whole works of Shakespeare.”
It strikes one indeed as a series of disconnected jottings that have
as little to do with each other as with the situation and attitude of
Aufidius. First he gives reason for expecting the capture of Rome; then
he enumerates defects in Coriolanus that have led to his banishment
with a supplementary acknowledgment of his merits; next he makes
general reflections on the relation of virtue to the construction put
upon it, and on the danger that lies in conspicuous power: thereafter
he points out that things are brought to nought by themselves or their
likes; and finally he predicts that when Rome is taken, he will get the
better of his rival.
[309] Of these the most perplexing to me is the distinction Shakespeare
makes between “the nobility” on the one hand, and “the senators
and patricians” on the other. What was in his mind? I fail to find
an explanation even on trying to render his thought in terms of
contemporary arrangements in England. “Peers,” “parliament men,” and
“gentry” would not do.
Is there here a mere congeries of thoughts as one chance suggestion
leads to another with which it happens to be casually associated; or
does one thread of continuous meaning run through the whole? I would
venture to maintain the latter opinion with more confidence than I do,
if Coleridge had not been so emphatic.
In the first place we have to remember what goes before. The report
of the Lieutenant confirms the jealousy of Aufidius, who is further
embittered by the hint that he is losing credit, but reflects that he
can bring weighty charges against Coriolanus, and concludes:
He hath left undone
That which shall break his neck or hazard mine,
Whene’er we come to our account.
Thereupon the Lieutenant meaningly rejoins:
Sir, I beseech you, think you he’ll carry Rome?
It is a contingency to be reckoned with, for clearly if Rome falls,
any previous mistakes or complaisances alleged against the conqueror
will find ready pardon. So Aufidius discusses the matter in the light
of these two main considerations: (1) that he must get rid of his
rival, and (2) that his rival may do the state a crowning service.
He admits that Coriolanus, what with his own efficiency, what with
the friendliness of one class in Rome and the helplessness of the
remainder, is likely to achieve the grand exploit. How then will
Aufidius’ chances stand? Formerly Marcius deserved as well of his own
country when he had overthrown Corioli, yet that did not secure him.
What qualities in himself discounted his services to Rome and may
again discount his services to Antium? Pride of prosperity, disregard
of his opportunities, his unaccommodating peremptory behaviour—all
of these faults which in point of fact afterwards contributed to his
death—brought about his banishment, though truly he had merit enough
to make men overlook such trifles. This shows how worth depends on the
way it is taken, and how ability, even when of the sterling kind that
wins its own approval, may find the throne of its public recognition
to be, more properly, its certain grave. Thus likes counteract likes;
the greater the popularity, the greater the reaction; the greater the
superiority, the more certainly it will balk itself. So, and this is
the conclusion of the whole matter, even when Marcius has won Rome by a
greater conquest than when he won Corioli, the result will be the same.
His proud, imprudent and overbearing conduct will obscure his high
deserts. These will be construed only by public opinion, and the very
prowess in which he delights will rouse an adulation, which, when he is
no longer required, will swing round to its opposite. So his success
will correct itself. His very triumph over Rome will be guarantee for
Aufidius’ triumph over him.
If this amplified paraphrase give the meaning, that meaning is coherent
enough and is quite suitable to the mood and attitude of the speaker.
INDEX
Acciaiuoli, additional lives to Plutarch, _note_ 144.
Agrippa (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 346.
Alexander (Sir William) [Earl of Stirling],
_Julius Caesar_, 35;
_Julius Caesar_ compared with Garnier, 39;
_Julius Caesar_ and Shakespeare, 207.
Alexas (Lord), (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 348.
Ammonius (the Philosopher), 95.
Amyot (Jacques), 119-141;
birth, etc., 120;
translation of Heliodorus, 121;
of Diodorus Siculus, 123;
and Longus, 124;
tutor to Dukes of Orleans and Anjou, 124;
Grand Almoner of France, 124;
Bishop of Auxerre, 125;
Commander of Order of Holy Ghost, 126;
various disasters, 126;
_Projet de l’Eloquence Royal_, 128;
modifications of Plutarch, 138.
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, 300-453;
date of composition, 300;
and Appian, 648-652.
Antony and Cleopatra (the two characters), 439-453.
_Apius and Virginia_, 2-10, 70.
Appian and _Antony and Cleopatra_, 648-652;
and _Julius Caesar_, 644-647.
Appian’s Chronicle, translated by Bynniman, _note_ 644;
_Sextus Pompeius_, 333.
Aufidius (Tullus), [in _Coriolanus_], 501, 584.
B. (R.), 2, 9.
Baker, _Development of Shakespeare as a Dramatist_, _note_ 267.
Bernage (S.), on _Julius Caesar_ and _Cornélie_, 60.
Berners (Lord), part translation, Guevara (Antonio de),
_Marco Aurelio con el Relox de Principes_, 148.
Bidpai, Fables of, 150.
Blignières (Auguste de), _Essai on Amyot_, 119.
Blount (Edward), a printer, 300.
Boas (F. S.), _Shakespeare and his Predecessors_, 426.
Boner (Hieronymus), version of Plutarch’s _Lives_, _note_ 132.
Boswell (James), quotation from Plutarch, 116.
Bower (Richard), ? author of a _New Tragicall Comedie
of Apius and Virginia_, 2.
Bradley (A. C.), on the Roman Plays, 80;
_Julius Caesar_, _note_ 267;
Shakesperian atmosphere after _Othello_ and _Lear_, 305;
_Antony and Cleopatra_, _note_ 312;
_Coriolanus_, 462.
Brandes (Dr. George), _Julius Caesar_, _note_ 217;
on Tieck’s Dramas (in _Romantic School in Germany_), _note_ 280;
_Antony and Cleopatra_, 307;
_Coriolanus_, 464 and 466.
Brandl (Professor Alois), _Coriolanus_, 464.
Brandon (Samuel), _Vertuous Octavia_, 71.
Brontë (Charlotte), on _Coriolanus_, 468, 472.
Brooke (Lord), _Antony and Cleopatra_—destroyed tragedy on, 70.
Buchanan (George), _Baptistes_ and _Jephthes_, 21.
Butler (Professor), on _Appius and Virginia_, _note_ 9.
Büttner, _Zu Coriolan und seiner Quelle_, 488.
_Caesar’s Fall_, a play by Drayton, Webster and others, 170.
Calvin (John), prose of, 135.
Camden (William), _Remaines_, 455.
Caractacus, Elizabethan Plays on, 1.
Carlyle (Thomas), on the Historical Plays, 89.
Casca (in _Julius Caesar_), 286.
Cassius (in _Julius Caesar_), 275, 284.
_César_, by Jacques Grévin, 31.
_César_, by Grévin and Muretus, compared, 30-33.
Chalmers (Alexander), on _Coriolanus_, 460.
Chapman (George), French plays, 77;
_Bussy d’Ambois_, 303;
_The Conspiracie_ and _The Tragedie of Charles,
Duke of Byron_, 464.
Charmian (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 347.
Chaucer (Geoffrey), on Brutus and Cassius, 27;
_Legend of Good Women_, 308.
Chenier (Marie-Joseph), _Brutus et Cassius,
Les Derniers Romains_, 27.
Cicero (in _Julius Caesar_), 287.
Cinthio (Giovanni Battista Giroldi), play on _Cleopatra_,
_note_ 310.
Cleopatra (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 413-438;
relations between Antony and Cleopatra, 439-453;
“One Word,” 653-656.
_Cleopatra_, by Samuel Daniel, 48.
Coleridge (Samuel Taylor), Brutus (in _Julius Caesar_), 201, 202,
204, 205;
_Julius Caesar_, 256;
_Antony and Cleopatra_, 305, 317, 338;
_Coriolanus_, 462, 473;
on Aufidius (in _Coriolanus_), 486;
“Inexplicable” passage in _Coriolanus_, 657-659.
Collins (John Churton), _Studies in Shakespeare_, 180;
Shakespeare’s Latinity, 653.
Collischonn (G.A.O.), Introduction to Grévin’s _Caesar_, _note_ 27;
and Muretus’ _Julius Caesar_, _note_ 27;
coincidences between Grévin and Shakespeare, 34.
Cominius (in _Coriolanus_), 498, 556.
_Complaint of Rosamond_, by Samuel Daniel, 48;
parallelisms with _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Rape of Lucrece_, 56.
Confrères de la Passion, 30.
CORIOLANUS, 454-627;
date of composition, 454;
“Inexplicable” passage in, 657-659.
_Cornelia_, by Thomas Kyd, 54.
_Cornélie_, compared with Muretus, 37.
Cory, translation of Leo, 333.
Courier (P. L.), on Plutarch, 106, 119.
Cruserius, Latin version of Plutarch, 133.
_Cymbeline_, 312.
Daniel (Samuel), _Cleopatra_, 48, 338, 451.
Dante, on Brutus and Cassius, 26.
Decius (in _Julius Caesar_), 286.
_Defence of Ryme_, by Samuel Daniel, 50.
de l’Escluse (Charles), additional lives to Plutarch, 144.
_Delia_, by Samuel Daniel, 48.
Delius (Nicolaus), Shakespeare and Plutarch, 165;
on Coriolanus, 456, 487;
Coriolanus and Plutarch, 493.
Demogeot, on Amyot, 139.
De Quincey (Thomas), on Plutarch, _note_ 114.
_Diall of Princes_, by Thomas North, 143.
Digges (Leonard), on the Roman Plays, 85;
on _Julius Caesar_, 255.
Dodsley (Robert), Old English Plays, 4.
Dolabella (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 346.
Doni (Antonio Francesco), _Morale Filosofia_
(same as Bidpai’s Fables), 144, 150.
Dowden (Professor Edward), _Shakespeare’s Mind and Art_, 214.
Drayton (Michael), _Mortimeriados_ or _The Barons’ War_, 169.
Dryden (John), on Plutarch, 106;
_Life of Plutarch_, 110;
_All for Love_ or _The World Well Lost_, 256, 340.
_Eccerinis_, by Mussato, 11.
Eedes (Dr.), lost Latin play, 180.
English and Roman plays compared, 74.
Enobarbus (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 349-359.
Eros (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 366.
_Fabula Praetexta_, 11.
Faguet (Émile), on _Cornélie_, 37.
_Famous Victories of Henry V._, 2.
Farmer (John S.), reproduction of _Appius and Virginia_, 3.
Favorinus (the Philosopher), 101.
Fénelon (François de Salignac de la Mothe), on Amyot, 136.
Ferrero (Professor Guglielmo), on _Antony and Cleopatra_,
_note_ 335;
on Cleopatra, _note_ 414 and 452.
Filelfo, Latin version of Plutarch, 134.
Florus (Mestrius) [friend of Plutarch], 97.
French Senecans, 19-44.
Fulvia (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 396.
Furness (Frances Howard), _Antony and Cleopatra_, _note_ 59;
on Charmian, _note_ 347.
Garnett (Dr. Richard), _Date and Occasion of The Tempest_, 466.
Garnier (R.), _Cornélie_, 35;
Drama about Portia, 35;
_Marc Antoine_, 41;
_Antonius_, English translation by Countess of Pembroke, 46;
_Antony and Cleopatra_, 338;
parallels between _Cornélie_ and _Julius Caesar_, 628-630.
Gassner (H.), edition of Kyd’s _Cornelia_, _note_ 55.
Geddes (Dr.), a lost Latin play, 180.
Gellius (Aulus), on Plutarch, 101.
Genée (Rudolph), Shakespeare’s _Leben und Werke_, 198.
Gervinus (Georg Gottfried), _Shakespeare Commentaries_,
_Julius Caesar_, 224;
_Antony and Cleopatra_, 305, 307, 340;
Plutarch’s Antony, 336;
Coriolanus, 471.
Goethe, on “love,” 446.
_Gorboduc_, 45, 70.
Goulard (Simon), _Octavius Caesar Augustus_, 648.
Greene (Robert), _James IV._, _note_ 62.
Grévin (Jacques), _César_, _note_ 27, 31.
Grosart (Dr. Alexander), edition of Daniel’s _Cleopatra_
quoted from, 51.
Guevara (Antoniode), _The Favored Courtier_, 148;
_El Libro Aureo de Marco Aurelio, otherwise
Emperador y eloquentissimo Orator_,
called _Marco Aurelio con el Relox de Principes_
or _The Diall of Princes_, 147 and 148.
Halliwell-Phillips (J. O.), Weever’s _Mirror of Martyrs_, 170.
Hamlet, 78, 173.
Hardy (Alexandre), _Coriolan_, 475.
Hazlitt (W. Carew), _notes_ 4 and 5.
Heine (Heinrich), on Cleopatra, 441;
on Rome, 547.
_Henry V._, 172.
Heywood (Thomas), _Rape of Lucrece_, 68.
Holden (Rev. Dr. H. A.), on Plutarch, _note_ 114;
on Amyot, _note_ 133.
Holland (Philemon), translation of Pliny, 333, _note_ 456;
Livy on Coriolanus, 626.
Hudson (Dr. Henry Norman),
_Shakespeare, his Life, Art and Characters_, 224.
Hughes (Thomas), _Misfortunes of Arthur_, 45.
Hugo (Victor), Historical Plays, 87.
Ingram (Professor), on “endings” (of verses), 304.
Iras (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 347, 438.
Jacobs (Joseph), _Fables of Bidpai_, _note_ 150.
Jaggard (the Younger), a printer, 301.
Jodelle (Étienne), _Cleopatra Captive_, 28, _note_ 322;
_Antony and Cleopatra_, 338;
_Cleopatra_, _note_ 435.
Johnson (Dr. Samuel), _Julius Caesar_, 256;
_Coriolanus_, 480, 482;
Menenius Agrippa, 564.
Jonson (Ben), _Catiline_, 54;
_Sejanus_ and _Catiline_, 85;
_Discoveries_ and _Staple of News_,
on _Julius Caesar_, 174 and 175;
_Epicoene_, note 303, 460.
Jowett (Benjamin), _Plato_, Vol. I., _note_ 237;
_Plato_, Vol. II., 446.
JULIUS CAESAR, date of composition, 168;
Plutarch, 180;
the lives of Brutus, Caesar and Antony, 188;
should it be named Marcus Brutus, 212;
_Julius Caesar_ is himself analogous to the
King in the English Historical Plays, 213.
Julius Caesar, character in other plays, 177.
Julius Caesar and Appian, 644-647.
_Julius Caesar_ and Garnier’s _Cornélie_, 60;
parallels between, 628-630.
_Julius Caesar_, by Muretus, 11.
Junius Brutus (in _Coriolanus_), 499.
Kahnt (Paul), _Gedankenkreis ...
in Jodelle’s und Garnier’s Tragödien_, _note_ 19.
Karsteg (Prof. von), in _Harry Richmond_, 393.
_King John_, 82.
_King Lear_, 78.
Klein, on Cinthio’s _Cleopatra_ and _Antony and Cleopatra_,
_note_ 310.
Kreyssig (Friedrich Alexo Theodor), on Octavius, 378;
on Volumnia, 553;
on Virgilia, 570.
Kyd (Thomas), translation of _Cornélie_
(under name _Cornelia_), 54;
Boas’ edition, _note_ 55.
Lamprias, brother of Plutarch, 98.
Landman (Dr. Friedrich), on _Euphues_, 149.
Lanson, on Amyot, 141.
La Rochefoucauld (François, VI. Duc de), _notes_ 420, 424 and 451.
Lartius (in _Coriolanus_), 513.
Le Duc (Viollet), _Ancien Théatre François_, _note_ 28.
Lee (Sidney), Shakespeare and Camden, 457.
Lepidus (in _Julius Caesar_), 297.
Lepidus (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 368.
Lessing (Gotthold Ephraim), _Hamburg Dramaturgy_
on the Roman Plays, 86.
Ligarius (in _Julius Caesar_), 286.
“light” endings, 304.
Lily (John), _Euphues_ and _The Diall of Princes_, 149.
Lloyd (Watkiss), on _Coriolanus_, 519.
Lodge (Thomas), _The Wounds of Civill War_, 62;
_A Looking Glass for London and England_, 62;
translator of Josephus and Lucius Annaeus Seneca, 68.
Lord Alexas, _see_ Alexas.
Lotze, on Historical Plays, 89.
“Love,” in three plays, 342.
Luce (Alice), edition of Countess of Pembroke’s
translation of R. Garnier’s _Antonius_, _note_ 46.
Lucilius (in _Julius Caesar_), 285.
Lucina, Elizabethan plays on, 1.
Lucretia, Elizabethan plays on, 1.
_Macbeth_, 78, and _Antony and Cleopatra_, 302.
Malone (Edmund), date of _Antony and Cleopatra_, 303;
date of _Coriolanus_, 454, 459, 460.
“Mansions” (another name for “scenes”), 476.
Marcius (in _Coriolanus_), 497, 549.
Marcus Aurelius, 104.
Mark Antony
(in _Julius Caesar_), 289-298.
(in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 390-412.
Marlowe (Christopher), _Edward II._, 2;
_Tamburlaine_, _note_ 62,
and Shakespeare, _Henry VI._, 93.
Massinissa, Elizabethan plays on, 1.
Mecaenas (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 346, 361.
Menas (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 348, 376.
Menecrates (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 376.
Menenius Agrippa (in _Julius Caesar_), 558.
Meres (Francis), list of plays, 171;
_Palladis Tamia_, 172.
Messala (in _Julius Caesar_), 285.
Méziriac (Bachet de), on Amyot, 128.
_Misfortunes of Arthur_, by Thomas Hughes, 45.
“Mixed” plays, 18.
Moeller, _Kleopatra in der Tragödien-Literatur_, _note_, 310.
Montaigne (Michael, Lord of), on Muretus, 20;
on Amyot, 129.
Montreuil, _Cleopatre_, _note_ 310.
Muretus, _Julius Caesar_, 11, 20.
Mussato, _Eccerinis_, 11.
Nashe (Thomas), use of word “lurched,” 460.
Nicholson (S.), _Acolastus his Afterwit_, 171.
North (Sir Thomas), 141-167;
birth and education, 142;
_Diall of Princes_, 143;
Lord Lieutenant of Cambridgeshire and Isle of Ely, 143;
Doni’s _Morale Filosofia_, 144;
command at Ely, 146;
dignities and pensions, 146;
his style in translating Plutarch, 154;
? as to the Greek text, _note_ 155.
Nuce (Thomas), English version of _Octavia_, 12.
_Octavia_, ? by Seneca, 10-19.
Octavia (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 362-366.
Octavius (in _Julius Caesar_), 298.
Octavius (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 373, 378.
_Othello_, 78.
Ovid, _Epistle of Dido_, 653.
Pais (Ettore), on story of Coriolanus, 474.
Pembroke (Countess of),
translation of Garnier’s _Antonius_, 2;
Mornay’s _Discourse on Life and Death_, _note_ 46.
_Philotas_, by Samuel Daniel, 49.
Pindarus (in _Julius Caesar_), 284, 285.
Plays named after _two_ persons, 341.
Plutarch and Shakespeare, 92 etc., 95-119;
ancestry and education, 95;
_Isis and Osiris_, 96;
_Moralia_, 97;
marriage, 98;
priest of Apollo, 102;
Archon of Chaeronea, 104;
? a consul, 104;
? governor of Greece, 104;
and Plato, 108;
Neo-Platonism, 108;
his philosophy, 108;
_Praecepta gerendae Reipublicae_, 113;
Latin version of his _Lives_, published at Rome by Campani, 132;
other translations, 132;
editions of North’s version, 151;
various versions and Volumnia’s speech, 631-643.
Portia (in _Julius Caesar_), 271-274.
Preston (Thomas), _King Cambyses_, 8.
Proculeius (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 346.
Puschkin, parallel with Cleopatra’s “One Word,” 655.
_Quarterly Review_ (1861), on Plutarch, 162.
Rabelais (François), prose of, 135.
Racine (Jean), on Amyot, 136.
_Richard III._, 177.
Rigal (Eugène), on Alexandre Hardy, 476.
Roman and English plays compared, 74.
_Romeo and Juliet_, 177.
Ronsard (Pierre de) Roman plays by the School of, 11;
on Grévin’s _César_, 33.
Rousseau (Jean Jacques), on Plutarch, 117.
Ruhnken, edition of Muretus, _note_ 27.
Ruskin (John), on Virgilia, 497.
Rusticus (Arulenus), friend of Plutarch, 97.
Sachs (Hans), play on Cleopatra, _note_ 310.
St. Évremond, on Plutarch, 112.
Scarus (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 359.
Schiller, historical plays of, 87.
Schweighäuser (Johann), version of Appian quoted, 645.
Scott (Sir Walter), on Dryden’s _All for Love_, 256.
Seneca, ? author of _Octavia_, 10.
Senecio (Sosius), friend of Plutarch, 97.
Serapion, a poet, 101.
Sextus of Chaeronea, 104.
Sextus Pompeius (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 346, 373.
Shakespeare (William),
Roman plays influenced by Senecan pieces, 56,
and Thomas Kyd, 56;
_Midsummer-Night’s Dream_ and
_Merchant of Venice_ show traces of North’s Plutarch, 151;
various editions of North’s Plutarch, _note_ 152, and North, 163.
Sicinius Vellutus (in _Coriolanus_), 499.
Sidgwick (Henry), on _Julius Caesar_, 176.
Silius (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 345.
Skelton (John), _Garland of Laurel_, 309.
Sonnets—Daniel’s _Delia_, 56;
sorrows in the, 313.
Stahr (A.), on Cleopatra, 427.
Stengel, _Théatre d’Alexandre Hardy_, 476.
Stirling (Earl of), _see_ Alexander (Sir William).
Stokes (Henry Paine),
_Chronological Order of Shakespeare’s Plays_, _note_ 168.
Stone (Boswell), _Shakespeare’s Holinshed_, _note_ 180.
Strato (in _Julius Caesar_), 285.
Swinburne (Algernon Charles), Trilogy on Mary Stuart, 89.
Taylor (Sir Henry), _Philip van Artevelde_, 89.
Ten Brink (Bernhard), on Cleopatra, 443.
Tennyson, _Harold_, 89.
Thyreus (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 346.
_Timaeus_, treatise on the, by Plutarch, 101.
_Timon_, 82, 307.
Timon, brother of Plutarch, 98.
Titinius (in _Julius Caesar_), 284, 285.
_Titus Andronicus_, 177.
Titus Lartius (in _Coriolanus_), 498, 556.
Trench (Richard Chenevix), Archbishop of Dublin, on Plutarch, 114;
on Shakespeare and Plutarch, 164;
on _Coriolanus_, 600.
_Troilus and Cressida_, 84.
Tullus Aufidius, _see_ Aufidius (Tullus).
Turberville (George), translation of Ovid, 654.
Vaugelas (Claude Favre de), on Amyot, 136.
Ventidius (in _Antony and Cleopatra_), 345.
Verity (A. W.), edition of _Julius Caesar_, 175;
edition of _Coriolanus_, _note_ 497.
Viehoff, on _Shakespeare’s Coriolan_, 479.
Virgilia (in _Coriolanus_), 497, 566.
Voltaire (François Marie Arouet de), on Brutus, 239.
Volumnia (in _Coriolanus_), 494, 549;
her speech and various versions of Plutarch, 631-643.
Warburton (William), a reading in _Antony and Cleopatra_, 411.
Ward (Prof. A. W.),
on Countess of Pembroke’s version of Garnier’s _Antonius_,
_note_ 46;
on Lodge’s _The Wounds of Civill War_, _note_ 62.
_Warning to Fair Women_, 171.
“weak” endings, 304.
Weever (John), _Mirror of Martyrs_, 170, 172.
Whitelaw, date of _Coriolanus_, 466.
Wordsworth (William), on Plutarch, _note_ 114.
Wright (W. Aldis), edition of _Julius Caesar_, 172.
Wyndham (the Right Honble. George), on Plutarch, 112;
on Amyot’s Plutarch’s _Morals_, _note_ 144;
on _Julius Caesar_, 239.
Xylander, Latin version of Plutarch, 133.
Zielinski (Professor Thaddäus),
_Marginalia Philologus_
on _Antony and Cleopatra_, _note_ 347;
on Cleopatra’s “One Word,” 653.
GLASGOW:
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