The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakspere Unfolded

'I muse my motherDoes not approve me further – who was wontTo call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats; to show bare heads  In congregations, to YAWN, be STILL, AND WONDER,  When one but of my ordinance stood up  To speak of PEACE or WAR. I talk of you [to Volumnia.]  Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me  False to my nature? [Softly] Either say I play  The man I am. Vol. O sir, sir, sir,  I would have had you put your power well on,  Ere you had worn it out.

Cor. Let go.

Vol. Lesser had been  The thwarting of your dispositions, IF  You had not shown them how you were disposed  Ere they lacked power to cross you.

Cor. Let them HANG!

Vol. Ay, and BURN too!

For that was the 'disposition' which these Commons, if they had waited but a little longer, might have 'lacked power to cross.' That was the disposition they had thwarted.

But then it is necessary to our purpose, as it was to the author's, to notice that the collision in this case is a forced one. It grows by plot. The people are put up to it. For there are men in that commonwealth who are competent to instruct the Commons in the doctrine of the common weal, and who are carefully and perseveringly applying themselves to that task; though they are men who know how to bide their time, and they will wait till the soaring insolence of the hero is brought into open collision with that enlightened popular will.

They will wait till the military hero's quarrel with the commonwealth breaks out anew. For they know that it lies in the nature of things, and cannot but occur. The éclat of his victory, and the military pride of the nation, films it over for a time; but the quarrel is a radical one, and cannot be healed.

For this chief of soldiers, and would-be head and ruler of the state knows no commonwealth. His soul is not large enough to admit of that conception. The walls of ignorance, that he shuts himself up in, darken and narrow his world to the sphere of his own microcosm, – and, therefore, there is a natural war between the world and him. The state of universal subjection, on the part of others, to his single exclusive passions and affections, the state in which the whole is sacrificed to the part, is the only state that will satisfy him. That is the peace he is disposed to conquer; that is the consummation with which he would stay; that is his notion of state. When that consummation is attained, or when such an approximation to it as he judges to be within his reach, is attained, then, and not till then, he is for conservation; —revolution then is sin; but, till then he will have change and overturning – he will fill the earth with rapine, and fire, and slaughter. But this is just the peace and war principle, which this man, who proposes a durable and solid peace, and the true state, a state constructed with reference to true definitions and axioms, – this is the peace and war principle which the man of science, on scientific grounds, objects to. 'He likes nor peace nor war' on those terms. The conclusions he has framed from those solid premises which he finds in the nature of things, makes him the leader of the opposition in both cases. In one way or another he will make war on that peace; he will kindle the revolutionary fires against that conservation. In one way or another, in one age or another, he will silence that war with all its pomp and circumstance, with all the din of its fifes, and drums, and trumpets. He will make over to the ignominy of ignorant and barbaric ages, – 'for we call a nettle but a nettle,' he will turn into a forgotten pageant of the rude, early, instinctive ages, the yet brutal ages of an undeveloped humanity, that triumphant reception at home, of the Conqueror of Foreign States. He will undermine, in all the states, the ethics and religion of brute force, till men shall grow sick, at last, of the old, rusty, bygone trumpery of its insignia, and say, 'Take away those baubles.'

But the hero that we deal with here, is but the pure negation of that heroism which his author conceives of, aspires to, and will have, historical, which he defines as the pattern of man's nature in all men. This one knows no common-wealth; the wealth that is wealth in his eyes, is all his own; the weal that he conceives of, is the weal that is warm at his own heart only. At best he can go out of his particular only as far as the limits of his own hearthstone, or the limits of his clique or caste. And in his selfish passion, when that demands it, he will sacrifice the nearest to him. As to the Commons, they are 'but things to buy and sell with groats,' a herd, a mass, a machine, to be informed with his single will, to be subordinated to his single wishes; in peace enduring the gnawings of hunger, that the garners their toil has filled may overflow for him, – enduring the badges of a degradation which blots out the essential humanity in them, to feed his pride; – in war offered up in droves, to win the garland of the war for him. That is the old hero's commonwealth. His small brain, his brutish head, could conceive no other. The ages in which he ruled the world with his instincts, with his fox-like cunning, with his wolfish fury, with his dog-like ravening, – those brute ages could know no other.

But it is the sturdy European race that the hero has to deal with here; and though, in the moment of victory, it is ready always to chain itself to the conqueror's car, and, in the exultation of conquest, and love for the conqueror, fastens on itself, with joy, the fetters of ages, this quarrel is always breaking out in it anew: it does not like being governed with the edge of the sword; – it is not fond of martial law as a permanent institution.

Two very sagacious tribunes these old Romans happen to have on hand in this emergency: birds considerably too old to be caught with this chaff of victory and military virtue, which puts the populace into such a frenzy, and very learnedly they talk on this subject, with a slight tendency to anachronisms in their mode of expression, in language which sounds a little, at times, as if they might have had access to some more recent documents, than the archives of mythical Rome could just then furnish to them.

But the reader should judge for himself of the correctness of this criticism.

Refusing to join in the military procession on its way to the Capitol, and stopping in the street for a little conference on the subject, when it has gone by, after that vivid complaint of the universal prostration to the military hero already quoted, the conference proceeds thus: —

Sic. On the sudden, I warrant him consul. Bru. Then our office may,During his power, go sleep.Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honoursFrom where he should begin, and end; but willLose those that he hath won.

Bru. In that there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we stand.  But they, upon their ancient malice, will  Forget, with the least cause, these his new honours;  Which that he'll give them, make as little question  As he is proud to do't. Bru. I heard him swear,  Were he to stand for consul, never would he  Appear i'the market-place, nor on him put  The napless vesture of humility;  Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds  To the people, beg their stinking breaths.

Sic. 'Tis right.

Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it, rather  Than carry it, but by the suit o'the gentry to him,  And the desire of the nobles. Sic. I wish no better,  Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it  In execution.

Bru. 'Tis most like he will.

Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills A sure destruction. Bru. So it must fall out  To him, or our authorities. For an end,  We must suggest the people, in what hatred  He still hath held them; that to his power he would  Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders, and  DISPROPERTIED THEIR FREEDOMS: [ – note the expression – ]  holding them,  IN HUMAN ACTION AND CAPACITY,  Of no more soul nor fitness for THE WORLD  Than CAMELS in their war; who have their provand  Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows  For sinking under them.Sic. This as you say, suggested At some time, when his soaring insolence Shall teach the people (which time shall not want)  If he be put upon't; and that's as easy  As to set dogs on sheep; will be HIS FIRE  To KINDLE THEIR DRY STUBBLE; AND THEIR BLAZE  SHALL DARKEN HIM FOR EVER.[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 seedsAnd weak beginnings, lie intreasured:Such things become the hatch and brood of time. —Henry IV.]

Coriolanus, elected by the Senate to the consulship, proposes, in his arrogance, as we have already seen, to dispense with the usual form, which he understands to be a form merely, of asking the consent of the people, and exhibiting to them his claim to their suffrages. The tribunes have sternly withstood this proposition, and will hear of 'no jot' of encroachment upon the dignity and state of the Commons. After the flourish with which the election in the Senate Chamber concludes, and the withdrawal of the Senate, again they stop to discuss, confidentially, 'the situation.'

Bru. You see how he intends to use the people.

Sic. May they perceive his intent; he will require them  As if he did contemn what they requested  Should be in their power to give. Bru. Come, we'll inform them  Of our proceedings here: on the market-place  I know they do attend us.

And to the market-place we go; for it is there that the people are collecting in throngs; no bats or clubs in their hands now, but still full of their passion of gratitude and admiration for the hero's patriotic achievements, against the common foe; and, under the influence of that sentiment, wrought to its highest pitch by that action and reaction which is the incident of the common sentiment in 'the greater congregations,' or 'extensive wholes,' eager to sanction with their 'approbation,' the appointment of the Senate, though the graver sort appear to be, even then, haunted with some unpleasant reminiscences, and not without an occasional misgiving as to the wisdom of the proceeding. There is a little tone of the former meeting lurking here still.

First Cit. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

Second Cit. We may, Sir, if we will.

Third Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do. Ingratitude is monstrous: and for the multitude to be ungrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude, —

[There are scientific points here. This term 'monstrosity' is one of the radical terms in the science of nature; but, like many others, it is used in the popular sense, while the sweep and exactitude of the scientific definition, or 'form' is introduced into it.]

– of the which, we, being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.

First Cit. And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve: for once, when we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.

Third Cit. We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and truly I think, if ALL our wits were to issue out of ONE skull, they would fly east, west, north, south; and their consent of one direct way should be at once to ALL the points o'the compass.

[An enigma; but the sphinx could propound no better one. Truly this man has had good teaching. He knows how to translate the old priestly Etruscan into the vernacular.]

Second Cit. Think you so? Which way, do you judge, my wit would fly?

Third Cit. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's WILL, 'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head: but if it were at liberty …

Second Cit. You are never without your tricks: – …

Third Cit. Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that's no matter. The greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man.

[Enter Coriolanus and Menenius.]

Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; mark his behaviour. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars: wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: therefore FOLLOW ME, and I'LL DIRECT YOU HOW YOU SHALL GO BY HIM.

[The voice of the true leader is lurking here, and all through these scenes the 'double' meanings are thickly sown.]

All. Content, content!

Men. O Sir, you are not right: have you not knownThe worthiest men have done it? Cor. What must I say? —  I pray, Sir? – Plague upon't! I cannot bring  My tongue to such a pace: – Look, Sir, – my wounds; —I got them in my country's service, when Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran From the noise of OUR OWN DRUMS. Men. O me, the gods!You must not speak of that; you must desire themTo think upon you. Cor. Think upon me? Hang 'em!  I would they would forget me, like the virtues  Which our divines lose by them. Men. You'll mar all;I'll leave you: Pray you, speak to them, I pray you,In wholesome manner.

[And now, instead of being thronged with a mob of

citizens – instructed how they are to go by him with the honor of

their single voices they enter 'by twos' and 'threes.']

[Enter two Citizens.]

Cor. Bid them wash their faces,And keep their teeth clean._ – So, here comes a brace,You know the cause, Sir, of my standing here.

First Cit. We do, Sir; tell us what hath brought you to't,

Cor. Mine own desert.– [The would-be consul answers.]

Second Cit. Your own desert?

Cor. Ay, not Mine own desire.

[His own desert has brought him to the consulship; his own desire would have omitted the conciliation of the people, and the deference to their will, that with all his desert somehow he seems to find expected from him.]

First Cit. How! not your own desire!

Cor. No, Sir. 'Twas never my desire yet, To trouble the poor with begging.

He desires what the poor have to give him however; but he desires to take it, without begging. But it is the heart of the true hero that speaks in earnest through that mockery, and the reference is to a state of things towards which the whole criticism of the play is steadfastly pointed, a state in which sovereigns were reluctantly compelled to beg from the poor, what they would rather have taken without their leave, or, at least, a state in which the form of this begging was still maintained, though there lacked but little to make it a form only, a state of things in which a country gentleman might be called on to sell 'his brass pans' without being supplied, on the part of the State, with what might appear, to him, any respectable reason for it, putting his life in peril, and coming off, with a hair's-breadth escape, of all his future usefulness, if he were bold enough to question the proceeding; a state of things in which a poor law-reader might feel himself called upon to buy a gown for a lady, whose gowns were none of the cheapest, at a time when the state of his finances might render it extremely inconvenient to do so.

But to return to the Roman citizen, for the play is written by one who knows that the human nature is what it is in all ages, or, at least, until it is improved with better arts of culture than the world has yet tried on it.

First Cit. You must think, if we give you anything, We hope to gain by you.

Cor. Well then, I pray, YOUR PRICE O'THE CONSULSHIP?

First Cit. The price is, Sir, to ask it kindly.

Cor. Kindly?  Sir, I pray let me ha't: I have wounds to show you,  Which shall be yours in private. – Your good voice, Sir;  What say you?

Second Cit. You shall have it, worthy Sir.

Cor. A match, Sir: There is in all two worthy voices begg'd: – I have your alms; adieu.

First Cit. But this is something odd.

Second Cit. An 'twere to give again, – But 'tis no matter.

[Exeunt two Citizens.]

[Enter two other Citizens.]

Cor. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices, that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown.

Third Cit. You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly.

Cor. Your enigma?

Third Cit. You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have been a rod to her friends; you have not INDEED, loved the COMMON PEOPLE.

Cor. You should account me the more virtuous, that I have not been common in my love. I will, Sir, flatter my sworn brother the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account GENTLE: and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly; that is, Sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man, and give it bountifully to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I may be consul.

Fourth Cit. We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give you our voices heartily.

Third Cit. You have received many wounds for your country.

Cor. I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.

Both Cit. The gods give you joy, Sir, heartily! [Exeunt.]

Cor. Most sweet voices! —  Better it is to die, better to starve,  …Rather than fool it so,  Let the high office and the honour go  To one that would do thus. – I am half through;  The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.

[Enter three other Citizens.]

Here come more voices, —Your Voices: for your voices I have fought:Watch'd for your voices; for your voices, bear Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six,  I have seen and heard of; for your voices,  Done many things, some less, some more: your voices:  Indeed, I would be consul.Fifth Cit. He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's voice. Sixth Cit. Therefore let him be consul: The gods give him joy, andmake him good friend to the people.

All. Amen, Amen. – God save thee, noble consul! [Exeunt Citizens.]

Cor. WORTHY VOICES!

[Re-enter Menenius, with the tribunes Brutus, and Sicinius.]

Men. You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes Endue you with the people's voice: Remains, That in the official marks invested, you Anon do meet the senate.

Cor. Is this done?

Sic. The custom of request you have discharged: The people do admit you; and are summon'd To meet anon, upon your approbation.

Cor. Where? At the senate-house?

Sic. There Coriolanus.

Cor. May I change these garments?

Sic. You may, Sir.

Cor. That I'll straight do, and knowing myself again, Repair to the senate house.

Men. I'll keep you company. – Will you along.

Bru. We stay here for the people.

Sic. Fare you well.

[Exeunt Coriolanus and Menenius.]

He has it now; and by his looks, methinks,'Tis warm at his heart.Bru. With a proud heart he wore His humble weeds:Will you dismiss the people?

[This is the popular election: but the afterthought, the review, the critical review, is that which must follow, for this is not the same people we had on the stage when the play began. They are the same in person, perhaps; but it is no longer a mob, armed with clubs, clamouring for bread, rushing forth to kill their chiefs, and have corn at their own price. It is a people conscious of their political power and dignity, an organised people; it is a people with a constituted head, capable of instructing them in the doctrine of political duties and rights. It is the tribune now who conducts this review of the Military Hero's civil claims. It is the careful, learned Tribune who initiates, from the heights of his civil wisdom, this great, popular veto, this deliberate 'rejection' of the popular affirmation. For this is what is called, elsewhere, 'a negative instance.']

[Re-enter Citizens.]

Sic. How now, my masters? HAVE YOU CHOSE THIS MAN?

First Cit. He has our voices, Sir.

Bru. We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.

Second Cit. Amen, Sir: To my poor unworthy notice, He mocked us when he begg'd our voices.

Third Cit. Certainly He flouted us downright.

First Cit. No, 'tis his kind of speech; he did not mock us.

Second Cit. Not one amongst us save yourself, but says, He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us His marks of merit, wounds received for his country.

Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure.

Cit. No; no man saw 'em. [Several speak.]

Third Cit. He said he had wounds which he could show in private;  And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,  'I would be consul,' says he,' AGED CUSTOM,  BUT BY YOUR VOICES, WILL NOT SO PERMIT ME;  Your voices THEREFORE:' When we granted that,  Here was, – 'I thank you for your voices, – thank you, —Your most sweet voices: —now you have left your voices, I have no further with you:' – Was not this mockery? Sic. Why, either, were you ignorant to see't?Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness  To yield your voices? Bru. Could you not have told him  As you were lesson'd – when he had no power,  But was a petty servant to the state,  He was your enemy; ever spake against  Your LIBERTIES, and the CHARTERS that you bear  I' THE BODY of the WEAL: and now arriving  A place of potency, and sway o' the state,  If he should still malignantly remainFast foe to the plebeii, your voices might Be CURSES to YOURSELVES. Sic. Thus to have saidAs you were fore-advised, had touched his spirit,And tried his inclination; from him plucked,Either his gracious promise, which you might,As cause had called you up, have HELD HIM TO;Or else it would have galled his surly nature,Which easily endures, not article Tying him to aught; – so putting him to rage,You should have ta'en advantage of his choler,And so left him unelected.

[Somewhat sagacious instructions for these old Roman statesmen to give, and not so very unlike those which English Commons found occasion to put in execution not long after.]

Bru. Did you perceive he did solicit you in free contempt, When he did need your loves; and do you think That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, When, he hath power to crush? Why had your bodies No heart among you, or had you tongues To cry against THE RECTORSHIP of —judgment?