THE IGNORANT ELECTION REVOKED.--A WRESTLING INSTANCE.
'For as they were men of the best composition in the state of Rome,
which, either being consuls, _inclined to the people_' ['If he
would but _incline to the people_, there never was a worthier man'],
'or being tribunes, inclined to the senate, so, in the matter which
we handle now [doctrine of _Cure_], they be the best physicians
which, being learned, incline to the traditions of experience; or,
being empirics, incline to the methods of learning.'
_Advancement of Learning._
But while the Man of Science was yet planning these vast scientific
changes--vast, but noiseless and beautiful as the movements of God in
nature--there was another kind of revolution brewing. All that time
there was a cloud on his political horizon--'a huge one, a black
one'--slowly and steadfastly accumulating, and rolling up from it,
which he had always an eye on. He knew there was that in it which no
scientific apparatus that could be put in operation then, on so short
a notice, and when science was so feebly aided, would be able to
divert or conduct entirely. He knew that so fearful a war-cloud would
have to burst, and get overblown, before any chance for those peace
operations, those operations of a solid and lasting peace, which he
was bent on, could be had--before any space on the earth could be
found broad enough for his Novum Organum to get to work on, before the
central levers of it could begin to stir.
That revolution which 'was singing in the wind' then to his ear, was
one which would have to come first in the chronological order; but it
was easy enough to see that it was not going to be such a one, in all
respects, as a man of his turn of genius would care to be out in with
his works.
He knew well enough what there was in it. He had not been so long in
such sharp daily collision with the elements of it--he had not been so
long trying conclusions with them under such delicate conditions,
conditions requiring so nice an observation--without arriving at some
degree of assurance in regard to their main properties, without
attaining, indeed, to what he calls _knowledge_ on that
subject--knowledge as distinguished from opinion--so as to be able to
predict 'with a near aim' the results of the possible combinations.
The conclusion of this observation was, that the revolutionary
movements then at hand were _not_, on the whole, likely to be
conducted throughout on rigidly scientific principles.
The spectacle of a people violently '_revoking_ their _ignorant
election_,' and empirically seeking to better their state under such
leaders as such a movement was likely to throw up, and that, too, when
the _old_ military government was still so strong in moral forces, so
sure of a faction in the state--of a faction of the best, which would
cleave the state to the centre, which would resist with the zealot's
fire unto blood and desperation the _unholy_ innovation--that would
stand on the last plank of the wrecked order, and wade through seas of
slaughter to restore it; the prospect of untried political innovation,
under such circumstances, did _not_ present itself to this Poet's
imagination in a form so absolutely alluring, as it might have done to
a philosopher of a less rigidly _inductive_, turn of mind.
His canvas, with its magic draught of the coming event, includes
already some contingencies which the programme of the theoretical
speculator in revolutions would have been far enough from including
_then_, when such movements were yet untried in modern history, and
the philosopher had to go back to mythical Rome to borrow an
historical frame of one that would contain his piece. The conviction
that the crash was, perhaps, inevitable, that the overthrow of the
existing usurpation, and the restoration of the English subject to his
rights,--a movement then already determined on,--would perhaps involve
these so tragic consequences--the conviction that the revolution was
at hand, was the conviction with which he made his arrangements for
the future.
But if any one would like to see now for himself what vigorous grasp
of particulars this inductive science of state involves, what a clear,
comprehensive, and masterly basis of history it rests on, and how
totally unlike the philosophy of prenotions it is in this respect--if
one would see what breadth of revolutionary surges this Artist of the
peace principles was able to span with his arches and sleepers, what
upheavings from the then unsounded depths of political contingencies,
what upliftings from the last depths of the revolutionary abysses,
this science of _stability_, this science of the future STATE, is
settled on,--such a one must explore this work yet further, and be
able to find and unroll in it that revolutionary picture which it
contains--that scientific exhibition which the Elizabethan statesman
has contrived to fold in it of a state in which the elements are
already cleaving and separating, one in which the historical
solidities are already in solution, or struggling towards
it--prematurely, perhaps, and in danger of being surprised and
overtaken by new combinations, not less oppressive and unscientific
than the old.
'Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
Hang up philosophy'--
wrote this Poet's fire of old.
'Canst thou not minister to a _mind_ diseased?'
it writes again. No?
'Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.'
'See now what _learning_ is,' says the practical-minded nurse, quite
dazzled and overawed with that exhibition of it which has just been
brought within her reach, and expressing, in the readiest and largest
terms which her vocabulary supplies to her, her admiration of the
practical bent of Friar Laurence's genius; who seems to be doing his
best to illustrate the idea which another student, who was not _a
Friar_ exactly, was undertaking to demonstrate from his cell about
that time--the idea of the possibility of converging a large and
studious observation of nature in general,--and it is a very large and
curious one which _this Friar_ betrays,--upon any of those ordinary
questions of domestic life, which are constantly recurring for private
solution. And though _this_ knowledge might seem to be 'so variable as
it falleth not under _precept_,' the prose philosopher is of the
opinion that 'a universal insight, and a wisdom of council and advice,
gathered by general observation of cases of _like nature_,' is
available for the particular instances which occur in this department.
And the philosophic poet appears to be of his opinion; for there is no
end to the precepts which he inducts from this 'variable knowledge'
when he gets it on his table of review, in the form of natural
history, in '_prerogative cases_' and 'illustrious instances,' cases
cleared from their accidental and extraneous adjuncts--ideal cases.
And though this poor Friar does not appear to have been very
successful in this particular instance; if we take into account the
fact that 'the Tragedy was the thing,' and that nothing but a tragedy
would serve his purpose, and that all his learning was converged on
that _effect_; if we take into account the fact that this is a
scientific experiment, and that the characters are sacrificed for the
sake of the useful conclusions, the success will not perhaps appear so
questionable as to throw any discredit upon this new theory of the
applicability of _learning_ to questions of this nature.
'Unless philosophy can make a Juliet.' But this is the philosophy that
did that very thing, and the one that made a Hamlet also, besides
'reversing a prince's doom'; for this is the one that takes into
account those very things in heaven and earth which Horatio had
omitted in his abstractions; and this is the philosopher who speaks
from his philosophic chair of '_men_ of good composition,' and who
gives a recipe for composing _them_. 'Unless philosophy can make a
Juliet,' is Romeo's word. 'See now what learning _is_,' is the Nurse's
commentary; for that same _Friar_, demure as he looks now under his
hood, talking of 'simples' and great nature's latent virtues, is the
one that will cog the nurse's hearts from them, and come back beloved
of all the trades in Rome. With his new art of 'composition' he will
compose, not Juliets nor Hamlets only; mastering the radicals, he will
compose, he will dissolve and recompose ultimately the greater
congregation; for the powers in nature are always one, and they are
not many.
Let us see now, then, what it is,--this 'universal insight in the
affairs of the world,' this 'wisdom of counsel and advice, gathered
from cases of a _like nature_,' with an observation that includes all
_natures_,--let us see what this new wisdom of counsel is, when it
comes to be applied to this huge growth of the state, this creature of
the ages; and in its great crisis of disorder--shaken, convulsed--
wrapped in elemental horror, and threatening to dissolve into its
primal warring atoms.
'Doctor, the Thanes fly from me.'
'If thou _couldst_, Doctor, cast
The water of MY LAND, _find her disease_,
And purge it to a _sound_ and _pristine health_,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.'
'What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,
Would scour _these English_ hence? Hear'st thou of _them_?'
'Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
That chambers will be safe.'
Let us see, then, what it is that this man will have, who criticises
so severely the learning of other men,--who disposes so scornfully,
right and left, of the physic and metaphysic of the schools as he
finds them,--who daffs the learning of the world aside, and bids it
_pass_. Let us see what the learning is that is not '_words_,' as
Hamlet says, complaining of the reading in his book.
This part has been taken out from its dramatic connections, and
reserved for a separate exhibition, on account of a certain new and
peculiar value it has acquired since it was produced in those
connections. Time has changed it 'into something rich and
strange,'--Time has framed it, and poured her illustration on it: it
is history now. That flaming portent, this aurora that fills the
seer's heaven, these fierce angry warriors, that are fighting here
upon the clouds, 'in ranks, and squadrons, and right forms of war,'
are but the marvels of that science that lays the future open.
'There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceased;
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which, _in their seeds_
And _weak beginnings_, lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time.'
'One need not go to heaven to predict imminent changes and
revolutions,' says that other philosopher, who scribbles on this same
subject about these days in such an entertaining manner, and who
brings so many 'buckets' from 'the headspring of sciences,' to water
his plants in this field in particular. 'That which most threatens us
is a divulsion of the whole mass.'
This part is produced here, then, as a specimen of that kind of
prophecy which one does not need to go to heaven for. And the careful
reader will observe, that notwithstanding the distinct disavowal of
any supernatural gift on the part of this seer, and this frank
explanation of the mystery of his Art, the prophecy appears to compare
not unfavourably with others which seem to come to us with higher
claims. A very useful and very remarkable kind of prophecy indeed,
this inductive prophecy appears to be; and the question arises,
whether _a kind_, endowed of God with a faculty of seeing, which
commands the future in so inclusive a manner, and with so near and
sufficient an aim for the most important practical purposes, ought to
be besieging Heaven for a _super_natural gift, and questioning the
ancient seers for some vague shadows of the coming event, instead of
putting this immediate endowment--this 'godlike' endowment--under
culture.
There is another reason for reserving this part. In the heat and
turmoil of this great ACT, the Muse of the Inductive Science drops her
mask, and she forgets to take it up again. The hand that is put forth
to draw 'the next ages' into the scene, when the necessary question of
the play requires it, is _bare_. It is the Man of Learning here
everywhere, without any disguise,--the man of the new learning, openly
applying his 'universal insight,' and 'wisdom of counsel and advice,
gathered by general observation of cases of like nature,' to this
great question of 'Policy,' which was then hurrying on, with such
portentous movement, to its inevitable practical solution.
He who would see at last for himself, then, the trick of this
'Magician,' when he 'brings the rabble to his place,' the reader who
would know at last why it is that these old Roman graves 'have waked
their sleepers, oped, and let them forth, by his so potent art'; and
_why_ it is, that at this great crisis in English history, the noise
of the old Roman battle hurtles so fiercely in the English ear, should
read now--but read as a work of natural science in politics, from the
scientific statesman's hands, deserves to be read--this great
revolutionary scene, which the Poet, for reasons of his own, has
buried in the heart of this Play, which he has subordinated with his
own matchless skill to the general intention of it, but which we, for
the sake of pursuing that general intention with the less
interruption, now that the storm appears to be 'overblown,' may safely
reserve for the conclusion of our reading of this scientific history,
and criticism, and rejection of the Military Usurpation of the
COMMON-WEAL.
The reading of it is very simple. One has only to observe that the
Poet avails himself of the _dialogue_ here, with even more than his
usual freedom, for the purpose of disposing of the bolder passages, in
the least objectionable manner,--interrupting the statement in
critical points, and emphasizing it, by that interruption, to the
careful reader 'of the argument,' but to the spectator, or to one who
takes it as a _dialogue merely_, neutralizing it by that dramatic
opposition. For the political criticism, which is of the boldest,
passes safely enough, by being merely _broken_, and put into the
mouths of opposing factions, who are just upon the point of coming to
blows upon the stage, and cannot, therefore, be suspected of
collusion.
For the popular magistracy, as it represents the ignorance, and
stupidity, and capricious tyranny of the multitude, and their
unfitness for rule, is subjected to the criticism of the true
consulship, on the one hand, while the military usurpation of the
chair of state, and the law of Conquest, is not less severely
criticized by the true Tribune--the Tribune, whose Tribe is the
Kind--on the other; and it was not necessary to produce, in any _more_
prominent manner, just then, the fact, that _both these offices_ and
_relations_ were combined in that tottering estate of the realm,--that
'old riotous form of military government,' which held then only by the
virtual election of the stupidity and ignorance of the people, and
which, this Poet and his friends were about to put on its trial, for
its _innovations_ in the government, and suppressions of the ancient
estates of this realm,--for its suppression of the dignities and
privileges of the Nobility, and its suppression of the chartered
dignities and rights of the Commons.
_Scene_.--A Street. Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS with his two military
friends, who have shared with him the conduct of the Volscian wars,
and have but just returned from their campaign, COMINIUS and TITUS
LARTIUS,--and with them the old civilian MENENIUS, who, patrician
as he is, on account of his _honesty_,--a truly patrician
virtue,--is in favour with the people. '_He's_ an honest one. Would
they were _all so_.'
The military element predominates in this group of citizens, and of
course, they are talking of the wars,--the foreign wars: but the
principle of _inroad_ and _aggression_ on the one hand, and _defence_
on the other, the arts of _subjugation_, and _reconciliation_, the
arts of WAR and GOVERNMENT in their most general forms are always
cleared and identified, and tracked, under the specifications of the
scene.
_Cor_. Tullus Aufidius then _had made_ NEW HEAD.
_Lart_. He had, my lord, and _that_ it was, which caused
Our swifter COMPOSITION.
_Cor_. So then, the _Volsces_ stand but as at first,
Ready, when _time_ shall _prompt_ them, to make _road_
Upon _us_ again.
_Com_. _They_ [Volsces?] _are worn_, lord consul, so
That we shall hardly in _our ages_ see
_Their_ banners wave again.
* * * * *
[_Enter Sicinius and Brutus._]
_Cor_. Behold! these are the tribunes of the people,
The _tongues_ o' the _common mouth_. I do despise them;
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all _noble_ sufferance.
_Sic_. Pass no further.
_Cor_. Ha! what is that?
_Bru_. It will be dangerous to
Go on: No further.
_Cor_. What makes this CHANGE?
_Men_. _The matter_?
_Com_. Hath he not passed the NOBLES and the COMMONS?
_Bru_. Cominius.--No.
_Cor_. Have I had _children's voices_? [ _Yes._]
_Sen_. Tribunes, give way:--he shall to the market-place.
_Bru_. The people are incensed against him.
_Sic_. Stop.
Or _all will fall in broil_.
_Cor_. Are these _your herd_?
Must _these_ have voices that can yield them now,
And straight disclaim their tongues?
_You, being their mouths_, why rule you not their teeth?
_Have you not set them on?_
_Men_. Be calm, be calm.
_Cor._ It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the _nobility_:--
_Suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule,
Nor_ ever will be _ruled_.
_Bru_. Call't not a _plot_:
The people cry you mocked them; and of late,
When _corn_ was given them gratis, you repined;
_Scandaled the suppliants for the people; called them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness._
_Cor_. Why, this was known before.
_Bru_. _Not to them all._
_Cor_. _Have you informed them since?_
_Bru_. How! _I_ inform them?
_Cor_. You are like to do _such business_.
_Bru_. Not unlike,
Each way to better _yours_.
_Cor_. Why _then_ should _I_ be consul? By yon clouds,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
_Your fellow tribune_.
_Sic_. You show too much of _that_,
For which the people stir: If you will pass
To where you are bound, you must inquire your way,--
Which you are out of,--with a _gentler_ spirit;
Or never be so noble as a consul,
Nor yoke with him for tribune.
_Men_. Let's _be calm_.
_Com_. The people are abused;--set on--this paltering
Becomes not Rome: nor has Coriolanus
Deserved this so dishonoured rub, laid falsely
I' the plain way of his merit.
_Cor_. Tell me of _corn_:
_This was my speech_, and I will speak't _again_.
_Men. Not now, not now._
_First Sen_. Not in this heat, sir, _now_.
_Cor. Now_, as I live, I will.--My nobler friends
I crave their pardons:--
For the _mutable_, rank scented _many_, let them
_Regard me, as I do not flatter, and
Therein behold themselves_: I say again,
In soothing _them_, we nourish 'gainst our _senate_,
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have ploughed for, sowed and scattered,
By mingling them with us, _the honoured number_.
Who lack not _virtue, no_,--nor _power_, but _that_
_Which they have given to_--BEGGARS.
_Men. Well, no more._
_First Sen. No more words, we beseech you._
_Cor_. How, no more:
As for my country, I have shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force, _so_ shall my lungs
_Coin words_ till their decay against those meazels
Which we disdain, should tetter us, yet sought
The very way to catch them.
_Bru_. You speak o' the people,
As if you were a god to punish, not
_A man of their infirmity_.
_Sic. 'T were well_
_We let the people know't._
_Men_. What, what? his _choler_.
_Cor. Choler_!
Were I _as patient_ as the _midnight sleep,
By Jove,_ 't would be _my mind_.
_Sic_. It is a mind,
That shall remain a poison where it is,
_Not poison any further_.
_Cor_. _Shall remain!_
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? _mark you_
_His absolute_ SHALL?
_Com_. _'Twas from the canon,_
_O good_, but most _unwise patricians_, why
You _grave_, but _reckless senators_, have you thus
_Given Hydra here to choose_ AN OFFICER,
That with his _peremptory shall--being but
The horn and noise o' the monster_--wants not _spirit_
To say, he'll turn _your current_ in _a ditch_,
And make _your channel his? If he have power,
Then_ veil your IGNORANCE:--[that let him have it.]
--if _none, awake_
Your _dangerous_ LENITY.
[Mark it well, for it is not, as one may see who looks at it but a
little, it is not the lost Roman weal and its danger that fires the
passion of this speech. 'Look at this player whether he has not turned
his colour, and has tears in his eyes.' 'What's _Hecuba_ to him or he
to _Hecuba_, that he should weep for her? _What would he do_, had he
the motive and the cue for passion that _I_ have.']
--if none, awake
Your dangerous _lenity. If_ you are _learned_,
Be not as _common fools_; if you are _not_--
What do you draw this foolish line for, that separates you from the
commons? If you are not, there's no nobility. If you are not, what
business have you in these chairs of state?
--if you are not,
_Let them have cushions by you_. You are plebeians,
If _they_ be senators; and _they are no less_,
When _both your voices blended_, the GREATEST TASTE
Most palates _theirs_. _They choose_ their magistrate;
And such a one as _he_, who puts his _shall_,--
[Mark it, his _popular shall_].
His _popular shall_, against a graver bench
Than ever frown'd in Greece! By Jove himself,
It makes the _consuls base_: and _my soul aches_,
_To know_, when two authorities are up,
[Neither able to rule].
_Neither supreme_, how soon confusion
May enter twixt the GAP of BOTH, and take
The one by the other.
_Com._ Well,--on to the _market place_.
_Cor_. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
The _corn o' the store-house_ gratis, as 'twas used
_Sometime in Greece_.
[It is not _corn_, but the _property_ of the _state_, and its
appropriation, we talk of here. Whether the _absolute power_ be in the
hands of the _people_ or '_their officer_.' There had been a speech
made on that subject, which had not met with the approbation of the
absolute power then conducting the affairs of this realm; and in its
main principle, it is repeated here. 'That was my speech, and I will
make it again.' 'Not now, not now. Not in this heat, sir, now.' 'Now,
as I live, I will.']
_Men_. Well, well, no more of that,
_Cor_. Though _there_ THE PEOPLE had more _absolute power_,
I say they _nourished disobedience, fed_
The _ruin of the state_.
_Bru_. Why shall the people _give_
One that speaks thus their voice?
_Cor_. I'll give my _reasons_,
More worthier than _their voices_. They know the corn
Was not our RECOMPENSE; resting well assured
_They ne'er did service for it_?
. . . Well, what then?
How shall _this bosom multiplied_, digest;
The senate's courtesy? Let _deeds_ express
_What's like to be their words_. We did request it,
WE _are_ THE GREATER POLL, and in _true fear_
_They gave us our demands_. Thus we debase
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble
Call our _cares, fears:_ which will in time _break ope
The locks o' the senate_, and _bring in the crows
To peck the eagles._
_Mem_. Come, enough.
_Bru_. Enough, with _over measure_.
_Cor_. No, take _more_;
What may be sworn by, _both divine and human_,
Seal what I end withal! This _double_ worship,--
Where _one part_ does _disdain with cause, the other
Insult without all reason_; where _gentry, title, wisdom_,
Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no
Of _General Ignorance_--it _must omit
Real necessities_, and _give way the while
To unstable slightness_. PURPOSE so _barred_ it follows
_Nothing is done to purpose: Therefore_ beseech you,--
[Therefore beseech you].
You that will be less fearful than discreet;
That love the _fundamental part_ of _state_,
More than you doubt the _change_ of't--
There was but one man in England then, able to balance this
revolutionary proposition so nicely--so curiously; 'that love the
_fundamental_ part of state more than you doubt the change of it';
'You that are _less fearful_ than _discreet_'--not so _fearful_ as
discreet.
that prefer
A noble life before a long, and wish
To jump a body with a dangerous physic
_That's sure_ of _death without it_,--at once _pluck out
The multitudinous tongue_; let them not lick
The sweet which is their poison; _your dishonour_
MANGLES _true_ JUDGMENT, and bereaves THE STATE
Of that INTEGRITY which should _become it_:
Not having the power to do the good it would,
For the ill which doth control it.
_Bru_. He has said enough.
[One would think so].
_Sic_. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
_As traitors do_.
_Cor_. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee!
What should the _people do_ with these bald tribunes?
_On whom depending, their obedience fails
To the greater bench_? In a rebellion,
When what's not meet, but what must be was _law_
Then were they chosen: in a better hour,
Let what _is meet_, be said it must be _meet_,
And throw their power i' the _dust_.
_Bru_. MANIFEST TREASON.
_Sic_. _This a Consul_? No.
_Bru_. The Aediles! ho! let him be apprehended.
_Sic_. Go call the people; [_Exit Brutus_] _in whose name, myself_
Attach _thee_ [_thee_] as a traitorous INNOVATOR,
A FOE to the PUBLIC WEAL. Obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.
_Cor_. Hence, old goat!
_Senators and Patricians. We'll surety him_.
_Cor_. Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments.
_Sic_. Help, ye citizens.
[_Re-enter Brutus, with the Aediles, and a rabble of citizens._]
_Men_. _On both sides, more respect._
_Sic_. There's HE that would
_Take from you all your power_.
_Bru_. _Seize him, Aediles_.
_Cit_. _Down with him. Down with him_.
[_Several speak_.]
_Second Sen_. Weapons! Weapons! Weapons!
[_They all bustle about_ CORIOLANUS.]
Tribunes, patricians:--citizens:--what ho:--
Sicinius, Brutus:--Coriolanus:--citizens:--
_Cit_. _Peace!--Peace!--Peace!--stay!--hold!--peace!_
_Men_. _What is about to be? I am out of breath:
Confusion's near! I cannot speak_: you tribunes
To the people.--_Coriolanus_, patience:--
Speak, good Sicinius.
_Sic_. Hear me, people;--_Peace_.
_Cit_. Let's hear _our_ tribune:--Peace,--_Speak, speak, speak_.
_Sic_. _You are at point to lose your liberties_,
Marcius _would have all from you_; Marcius
Whom late you have named for consul.
_Men_. Fye, fye, fye.
That is the way to _kindle_, not to _quench_.
_Sen_. To _unbuild_ the _city and to lay all flat_.
_Sic_. What is the city, but _the people_.
_Cit_. TRUE,
The _people are_ the city.
_Bru_. By the consent of ALL, we were established
The _people's_ magistrates.
_Cit_. You so remain.
_Men_. And so are like to do.
_Cor_. That is the way to lay the city flat,
To bring the _roof_ to the _foundation_;
And bury all which yet _distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin_.
_Sic_. _This deserves death._
_Bru_. Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it:--
Truly, one hears the Revolutionary voices here. Observing the history
which is in all men's lives, 'Figuring the nature of the times
deceased, a man _may prophesy_,' as it would seem, 'with a _near
aim_,'--quite near--'of the _main_ chance of things, as yet, not come
to life, which in their weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things
become the hatch and brood of _time_,' this Poet says; but art, it
seems, anticipates that process. There appears to be more of the
future here, than of the times deceased.
_Bru_. We do here pronounce
Upon the _part of the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy_
Of _present death._
_Sic_. Therefore, lay hold of him;
Bear him to the rook Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.
_Bru_. Ædiles, seize him.
_Cit_. Yield, Marcius, yield.
_Men_. Hear me, one word.
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me, but a word.
_Ædiles_. Peace, peace.
_Men_. Be that you _seem, truly your country's friend_,
And _temperately_ proceed to what you would
Thus _violently_ redress.
_Bru_. Sir, those _cold ways_
That seem _like prudent helps_, are very _poisonous_.
Where the _disease is violent_.--Lay hands upon him,
And bear him to the rock.
_Cor_. No: I'll die here. [_Drawing his sword_.]
There's some among you have beheld me fighting;
Come _try upon yourselves_, what you have _seen_ me.
_Men_. DOWN with THAT SWORD; tribunes, withdraw awhile.
_Bru_. Lay hands upon him.
_Men_. Help, help, MARCIUS, help!
You that be NOBLE, help him, young and old.
_Cit_. DOWN WITH HIM! DOWN WITH HIM!
'In this _mutiny, the Tribunes, the Ædiles, and the People, are all_
BEAT IN,' so the stage direction informs us, which appears a little
singular, considering there is but _one sword_ drawn, and the
victorious faction does not appear to have the advantage in numbers.
It is, however, only a temporary success, as the victors seem to be
aware.
_Men_. Go, get you to _your houses, be gone away_,
All will be nought else.
_Second Sen_. Get you gone.
_Cor_. _Stand fast,
We have as many friends as enemies._
_Men_. Shall it be put to _that_?
_Sen_. _The gods forbid!_
I pry'thee noble friend, home to thy house;
_Leave us to_ CURE THIS CAUSE.
_Men_. _For_ 'tis a sore _upon us,
You cannot tent yourself. Begone, beseech you._
_Com_. Come, Sir, along with us.
_Cor_. I would they were barbarians (as they are,
Though in Rome _littered_) not Romans, (as they are _not_,
Though _calved_ i' the porch o' the Capitol).
_Men_. Begone;
Put not _your worthy rage_ into your _tongue_;
_One time_ will _owe another_. [_Hear_.]
_Cor_. On fair ground,
I could beat _forty_ of them.
_Men_. I could _myself_
Take up a _brace_ of the best of them; _yea, the two
tribunes_.
_Com_. But now 'tis _odds_ beyond arithmetic:
And MANHOOD is called FOOLERY, _when it stands
Against a falling fabric_.--Will you hence,
Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters, and _o'erbear
What they are used to bear_. [Change of 'predominance.']
_Men_. Pray you, begone:
I'll _try_ whether _my_ old wit be in request
With _those that have but little_; _this_ must be _patched_
With cloth of _any colour_.
_Com_. Nay, come away.
The features of that living impersonation of the heroic faults and
virtues which 'the mirror,' that professed to give to 'the very body
of the time, its form and pressure,' could not fail to show, are
glimmering here constantly in 'this ancient piece,' and often shine
out in the more critical passages, with such unmistakeable clearness,
as to furnish an effectual diversion for any eye, that should
undertake to fathom prematurely the player's intention. For 'the
gentleman who wrote the late Shepherd's Calendar' was not the only
poet of this time, as it would seem, who found the scope of a double
intention, in his poetic representation, not adequate to the
comprehension of his design--who laid on another and another still,
and found the complexity convenient. 'The sense is the best judge,'
this Poet says, in his doctrine of criticism, declining peremptorily
to accept of the ancient rules in matters of taste;--a rule in art
which requires, of course, a corresponding rule of interpretation. In
fact, it is no bad exercise for an ordinary mind, to undertake to
track the contriver of these plays, through all the latitudes which
his art, as he understands it, gives him. It is as good for that
purpose, as a problem in mathematics. But, 'to whom you will not give
an hour, you give nothing,' he says, and 'he had as lief not be read
at all, as be read by a careless reader.' So he thrusts in his
meanings as thick as ever he likes, and those who don't choose to stay
and pick them out, are free to lose them. They are not the ones he
laid them in for,--that is all. He is not afraid, but that he will
have readers enough, ere all is done; and he can afford to wait.
There's time enough.
_First Pat_. This man has marr'd his fortune.
_Men_. His nature is too noble for the world:
_He_ would not _flatter_ Neptune for _his trident_,
Or Jove for _his power_ to _thunder_. His heart's his mouth;
What his breast forges, _that_ his _tongue_ must vent;
And being angry, does forget that _ever
He heard the name of death_.
[_A noise within_.]
Here's goodly work!
_Second Pat_. I would they were _a-bed_!
_Men_. I would they were in Tyber!--_What, the vengeance,
Could he_ not _speak them fair_?
[_Re-enter Brutus and Sicinius with the Rabble_.]
_Sic_. WHERE IS THIS VIPER,
That would _depopulate_ the city, and
BE EVERY MAN HIMSELF?
_Men_. You worthy tribunes--
_Sic_. _He_ shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands; _he hath resisted LAW_,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial.
['When could they say till now that talked of Rome that _her_ wide
walls encompassed but _one man_?' 'What trash is Rome, what rubbish,
and what offal, when it serves for the base matter to illuminate so
vile a thing as Caesar.']
Than the severity of the PUBLIC POWER,
_Which he so sets at nought_.
_First Cit_. He shall _well_ know
The noble _tribunes_ are the _people's mouths_,
And _we their hands_.
[Historical _principles throughout, with much of that kind of
illustration in which his works are so prolific, an illustration which
is not rhetorical, but scientific, based on the COMMON PRINCIPLES IN
NATURE, which it is his 'primary' business to ascend to, and which it
is his 'second' business to apply to each particular branch of art.
'Neither,' as he tells us plainly, in his Book of Advancement,
'neither are these only _similitudes_ as _men of narrow observation_
may conceive them to be, but the _same footsteps of nature_, treading
or printing upon several subjects or matters,' and the tracking of
these historical principles to their ultimate forms, is that which he
recommends for the _disclosing_ of _nature and_ the _abridging_ of
Art.]
_Sic_. He's a _disease_, that must be cut away.
_Men_. O he's a _limb_, that has but a disease;
Mortal to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
_Killing our enemies?_ The blood he hath _lost_,
(Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
_By many an ounce_), he dropped it for his country.
And what _is left, to lose it by his country,
Were to us all, that do't and suffer it,
A brand to the end o' the world._
There's a piece thrust in here. This is the one of whom he says in
another scene, 'I cannot speak him home.'
_Bru_. _Merely awry_: when he did love his country,
It honour'd him.
_Men_. The _service_ of the _foot_,
Being once _gangren'd_, is not then respected
_For what before it was_?
_Bru_. We'll hear no more:--
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence;
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
_Spread further_.
_Men_. One word more, one word.
This _tiger-footed_ rage, when it shall find
_The harm_ of _unscann'd swiftness_, will, too late,
_Tie leaden pounds to his_ HEELS. [Mark it, for it is a
prophecy]
_Lest_ PARTIES (as he is _beloved_) _break out_,
And sack great _Rome_ with _Romans_.
_Bru_. If it were so,--
_Sic. What_ do ye talk?
Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
_Our Ædiles smote? Ourselves resisted?--Come:--_
_Men. Consider this; he has been bred i' the wars_,
Since he could draw a sword,--
That has been the breeding of states, and nobility, and their rule,
hitherto, as this play will show you. Consider what _schooling_ these
statesmen have had, before you begin the enterprise of reforming them,
and take your measures accordingly. They are not learned men, you see.
How should they be? There has been no demand for learning. The law of
the sword has prevailed hitherto. When what's not meet but what must
be was law, then were they chosen. Proceed by process.
_Consider_ this; he has been bred i' the WARS
Since he could draw a sword, and is _ill school'd_
In _boulted language_--
[That's the trouble; but there's been a little bolting going on in
this play.]
--_Meal and bran, together_
He _throws without distinction. Give me leave_
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him
Where he shall answer by a _lawful form_,
(In peace) to his utmost peril.
_First Sen. Noble tribunes._
It is the _humane way_: the _other_ course
Will prove too bloody; and--
[What is very much to be deprecated in such movements].
--the END of it,
Unknown to the beginning.
_Sic_. Noble Menenius;
Be _you_ then as the People's Officer:
_Masters_,--[and they seem to be that, truly,]--lay down _your
weapons_.
_Bru. Go not home_,
_Sic_. MEET on the MARKET-PLACE,--
[--that is where the 'idols of the market' are--]
_We'll attend you there:
Where_, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
In our _first way_.
_Men_. I'll bring him to you.
Let me desire _your_ company [_To the Senators_] He _must_ come,
Or what is worse will follow.
_Sen_. Pray you, let's to him.
SCENE--THE FORUM.
_Enter Sicinius and Brutus_.
_Bru_. In this _point_ charge him _home_, that he affects
TYRANNICAL POWER: if he evade us there,
Enforce him with his envy to _the people_;
And that the spoil, got on the Antiates,
Was _ne'er distributed_.--
_Enter an Ædile_.
What, will he come?
_Æd_. He's coming.
_Bru_. How accompanied?
_Æd_. _With old Menenius_, and those senators
That always favour'd him.
_Sic_. Have you a _catalogue_
Of all the voices that we have procured,
_Set down by_ THE POLL?
_Æd_. _I have; 'tis ready._
_Sic_. Have you collected them BY TRIBES?
_Æd_. I _have_.
_Sic_. Assemble presently the people hither:
And when they hear _me_ say, _it shall be so_
_I_ the RIGHT and STRENGTH o' the COMMONS, be it either
For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them,
If I say _fine_, cry _fine_; if _death_, cry _death_;
Insisting on the OLD _prerogative,
And power i' THE TRUTH, o' THE CAUSE.
[There is a great difference in the delivery of the mathematics,
which are the most abstracted of knowledges, and policy, which is
the most immersed.--_Advancement_ of LEARNING.]
_Æd_. I shall inform them.
_Bru_. And when such time they have begun to cry,
Let them not cease, but with a din confused
Enforce the present execution
Of what we chance to sentence.
_Æd_. Very well.
_Sic_. Make them _be strong_, and _ready for this hint_.
When we shall _hap_ to give't them.
_Bru_. Go about it.
[_Exit Ædile_.]
Put him to choler straight. He hath been used
Ever to conquer, and to have his worth
Of contradiction. Being once chafed, he cannot
Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks
What's in his heart; and _that_ is there, which looks
_With me to break his neck_. [Prophecy--inductive.]
Well, here he comes.
_Enter_ CORIOLANUS, _and his party_.
_Men_. Calmly, I do beseech you.
_Cor_. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece
Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods
Keep _Rome in safety_, and the CHAIRS of JUSTICE
_Supplied_ with WORTHY MEN! _plant_ LOVE _among us_.
Throng OUR LARGE TEMPLES with the _shows_ of PEACE,
And _not_ our STREETS with WAR.
_First Sen_. _Amen, Amen! [Hear, Hear_!]
_Men_. A NOBLE _wish_.
_Re-enter Ædile with Citizens_.
_Sic_. Draw near, ye people.
_Cor_. First hear _me_ speak.
_Ædile_. List to your _tribunes_. Audience: _Peace_, I say.
_Both Tri_. Well, say,--Peace, ho.
_Cor_. Shall I be charged no further than this present?
Must all determine here?
_Sic_. I do demand,
If you submit you to the _people's_ voices,
Allow their _officers_, and are content
To suffer _lawful censure for such faults
As shall be proved upon you_?
_Cor_. I am content.
_Men_. Lo, citizens, he says he is content--
_Cor_. What is the matter,
That being pass'd for consul, with full voice,
I am so dishonour'd, that the very hour
You take it off again?
_Sic_. _Answer to us_.
_Cor_. Say then,'tis true. _I ought so_.
Sic. WE CHARGE YOU, that you have contrived to take
From Rome, all seasoned office, and to wind
Yourself into a_ POWER TYRANNICAL;
_For which_, you are A TRAITOR to the PEOPLE.
_Cor_. How! _Traitor_?
_Men_. Nay, temperately: Your promise.
_Cor_. The fires in the lowest hell fold in the people!
Call me _their traitor_!
_Cit_. To the rock, to the rock with him.
_Sic_. Peace.
We need not put _new matter_ to his charge:
What you have _seen_ him do, and heard him speak,
_Beating_ your _officers, cursing yourselves_,
Opposing _laws_ with _strokes_, and here defying
Those whose great power must try him; even THIS,
So _criminal_, and in such CAPITAL _kind_,
Deserves the extremest death....
For that he has,
As much as in him lies, from time to time,
Envied against the people; _seeking means_
To _pluck away their power_: as now, at last,
Given hostile strokes, and that, not in the presence
Of dreaded justice, but on the _ministers_
_That do distribute it; in the name o' the people_,
And in the _power of us, the tribunes, we_,
Even from _this instant_, banish him our city,
In _peril of precipitation_
From off the rock Tarpeian, never more
To enter _our_ Rome's gates. I' THE PEOPLE'S NAME
_I say it shall be so_.
_Cit_. _It shall be so, it shall be so_: let him away,
He's banish'd, and it _shall be so_.
_Com_. Hear me, MY MASTERS, and my COMMON FRIENDS.
_Sic_. HE'S SENTENCED: no more hearing.
_Com_. Let me speak:--
_Bru_. THERE'S NO MORE TO BE SAID, BUT HE IS BANISHED,
_As_ ENEMY _to the_ PEOPLE, AND HIS COUNTRY:
IT SHALL BE SO.
_Cit_. IT SHALL BE SO, IT SHALL BE SO.
And this is the story that was set before a king! One, too, who was
just then bestirring himself to get the life of 'that last king of
England who was his ancestor' brought out; a king who was taking so
much pains to get his triple wreath of conquest brightened up, and all
the lines in it laid out and distinguished--one who was taking so much
pains to get the fresh red of that last 'conqueror,' who also 'came in
by battle,' cleared up in his coat of arms, in case his double line of
white and red from the old _Norman_ should not prove sufficient--
sufficient to convince the English nation of his divine right, and
that of his heirs for ever, to dispose of it and its weal at his and
their pleasure, with or without laws, as they should see fit. A pretty
scene this to amuse a king with, whose ancestor, the one from whom he
directly claimed, had so lately seated himself and his line by battle-
-by battle with the English people _on those very questions_; who had
'beaten them in' in their mutinies with his single sword, 'and taken
all from them'; who had planted his chair of state on their suppressed
liberties, and 'the charters that they bore in the body of the weal'--
that chair which was even then beginning to rock a little--while there
was that in the mien and bearing of the royal occupant and his heir
which might have looked to the prescient mind, if things went on as
they were going then, not unlike to break some one's neck.
'Bid them home,'
says the Tribune, after the military hero is driven out by the uprisen
people, with shouting, from the city gates for ever; charged never
more to enter them, on peril of precipitation from the Tarpeian Rock.
'Bid them home:
Say, _their great enemy is gone_, and THEY
STAND _in their ancient strength_.'
But it is in the conquered nation that this scene of the deposing of
the military power is completed. Of course one could not tell
beforehand what effect that cautious, but on the whole luminous,
exhibition of the recent conquest of the English PEOPLE, prepared at
the suggestion and under the immediate criticism of royalty, might
have with the profoundly loyal English people themselves, in the way
of 'striking an awe into them,' and removing any lurking opposition
they might have to the exercise of an arbitrary authority in
government; but with people of the old Volscian pluck, according to
this Poet's account of the matter, an allusion to a similar success on
the part of the Conqueror at a critical moment, and when his _special_
qualifications for government happened to be passing under review, was
not attended with those happy results which appear to have been
expected in the other instance.
'_If_ you have writ _your annals true_, 't is there,
That _like an_ EAGLE in a dove-cote, _I_
Flutter'd your Volsces in Corioli:
_Alone, I did it_.'
'Why--
[The answer is, in this case,]
'_Why_, noble lords,
_Will you be put in mind_ of his blind fortune,
Which was _your shame_, by this unholy braggart,
'Fore _your own eyes and ears_?
_Cons_. Let him die for't. [Several speak at once.]
_Citizens_ [Speaking _promiscuously_]. Tear him to pieces; do
it presently. He killed _my son_--_my daughter_;--he killed my
cousin Marcus;--he killed _my father_....
O that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, _his tribe_,
To use _my lawful sword_.
Insolent villain!
...Traitor!--how now?....
Ay, TRAITOR, Marcius.
_Marcius_?
Ay, _Marcius_, Caius Marcius. _Dost thou think_
I'll grace thee with that ROBBERY--thy STOLEN NAME,
_Coriolanus_, in CORIOLI?....
[.... Honest, my lord? 'Ay, honest.']
_Cons_. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.'
'Would you proceed especially against _Caius Marcius?_
Against him FIRST.'
Surely, if that 'Heir apparent' to whom the _History_ of HENRY THE
SEVENTH was dedicated by the author, with an urgent recommendation of
the '_rare accidents_' in that reign to the royal notice and
consideration; if that prince had but chanced in some thoroughly
thoughtful mood to light upon this yet more 'ancient piece,' he might
have found here, also, some things worthy of his notice. It cannot be
denied, that the poet's mode of handling the same historical question
is much more bold and clear than that of the professed philosopher.
But probably this Prince was not aware that his father entertained at
Whitehall then, not a literary Historian, merely--a Book-maker, able
to compose narratives of the past in an orderly chronological prosaic
manner, according to the received method--but a Show-man, also, an
Historical Show-man, with such new gifts and arts; a true Magician,
who had in his closet a mirror which possessed the property of
revealing, not the past nor the present only, but the future, 'with a
near aim,' an aim so _near_ that it might well seem 'magical'; and
that a cloud was flaming in it, even then, 'which drizzled blood upon
the Capitol.' This Prince of Wales did not know, any more than his
father did, that they had in their court then an historical scholar,
with such an indomitable passion for the stage, with such a decided
turn for acting--one who felt himself divinely prompted to a part in
that theatre which is the Globe--one who had laid out all for his
share in that. They did not either of them know, fortunately for us,
that they had in their royal train such an Historic Sport-Manager,
such a Prospero for Masques; that there was a true 'Phil-harmonus'
there, with so clear an inspiration of scientific statesmanship. They
did not know that they had in that servant of the crown, so supple, so
'patient--patient as the midnight sleep,' patient 'as the ostler that
for the poorest piece will bear the knave by the volume'--such a born
aspirant for rule; one who had always his eye on the throne, one who
had always in mind their usurpation of it. They did not know that they
had a Hamlet in their court, who never lost sight of his purpose, or
faltered in his execution of it; who had found a scientific ground for
his actions, an end for his ends; who only affected incoherence; and
that it was he who was intriguing to such purpose with the PLAYERS.
The Elizabethan revolutionist was suppressed: then 'Fame, who is the
posthumous sister of rebellion, sprang up.'
'O like a book of sports thou'lt read me o'er,
But there's more in me than thou'lt understand.'
'Henceforth guard thee well,
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there;
But _by the forge_ that stithied Mars his helm,
I'll kill thee everywhere, yea o'er and o'er.'