The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakspere Unfolded Part 30

_Casca_. 'Tis Caesar that you mean: Is it _not_, Ca.s.sius?

_Ca.s.sius_. Let it be WHO IT is, for Romans _now_ Have thewes and limbs like to _their_ ancestors.

We all stand up against the _spirit_ of Caesar.

_Julius Caesar_.

Yes, when that Royal Injunction, which rested alike upon the Play-house, the Press, the Pulpit, and _Parliament_ itself, was still throttling everywhere the free voice of the nation--when a single individual could still a.s.sume to himself, or to herself, the exclusive privilege of deliberating on all those questions which men are most concerned in--questions which involve all their welfare, for this life and the life to come, certainly '_the Play, the Play was the thing_.'

It was a vehicle of expression which offered incalculable facilities for evading these restrictions. It was the only one then invented which offered then any facilities whatever for the discussion of that question in particular--which was already for that age the question.

And to the genius of that age, with its new _historical, experimental_, practical, determination--with its transcendant poetic power, nothing could be easier than to get possession of this instrument, and to exhaust its capabilities.

For instance, if a Roman Play were to be brought out at all,--and with that mania for cla.s.sical subjects which then prevailed, what could be more natural?--how could one object to that which, by the supposition, was involved in it? And what but the most boundless freedoms and audacities, on this very question, could one look for here? What, by the supposition, could it be but one mine of poetic treason? If Brutus and Ca.s.sius were to be allowed to come upon the stage, and discuss their views of government, deliberately and confidentially, in the presence of an English audience, certainly no one could ask to hear from their lips the political doctrine then predominant in England. It would have been a flat anachronism, to request them to keep an eye upon the Tower in their remarks, inasmuch as all the world knew that the corner-stone of that ancient and venerable inst.i.tution had only then just been laid by the same distinguished individual whom these patriots were about to call to an account for his military usurpation of a const.i.tutional government at home.

And yet, one less versed than the author in the mystery of theatrical effects, and their combinations--one who did not know fully what kind of criticism a mere _Play_, composed by a professional play-wright, in the way of his profession, for the entertainment of the spectators, and for the sake of the pecuniary result, was likely to meet with;--or one who did not know what kind of criticism a work, addressed so strongly to the imagination and the feelings in any form, is likely to meet with, might have fancied beforehand that the author was venturing upon a somewhat delicate experiment, in producing a play like this upon the English stage at such a crisis. One would have said beforehand, that 'there were things in this comedy of Julius Caesar that would never please.' It is difficult, indeed, to understand how such a Play as this could ever have been produced in the presence of either of those two monarchs who occupied the English throne at that crisis in its history, already secretly conscious that its foundations were moving, and ferociously on guard over their prerogative.

And, indeed, unless a little of that same sagacity, which was employed so successfully in reducing the play of Pyramus and Thisbe to the tragical capacities of Duke Theseus' court, had been put in requisition here, instead of that dead historical silence, which the world complains of so much, we might have been treated to some very lively historical details in this case, corresponding to other details which the literary history of the time exhibits, in the case of authors who came out in an evil hour in their own names, with precisely the same doctrines, which are taught here word for word, with impunity; and the question as to whether this Literary Shadow, this Name, this Veiled Prophet in the World of Letters, ever had any flesh and blood belonging to him anywhere, (and from the tenor of his works, one might almost fancy sometimes that that might have been the case), this question would have come down to us experimentally and historically settled. For most unmistakeably, the claws of the young British lion are here, under these old Roman togas; and it became the 'masters' to consider with themselves, for there is, indeed, 'no more fearful wild fowl living' than your lion in such circ.u.mstances; and if he should happen to forget his part in any case, and 'roar too loud,'

it would to a dead certainty 'hang them all.'

But it was only the faint-hearted tailor who proposed to 'leave out the killing part.' Pyramus sets aside this cowardly proposition. He has named the obstacles to be encountered only for the sake of magnifying the fertility of his invention in overcoming them. He has a device to make all even. 'Write me a prologue,' he says, 'and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our _swords_; and for the more a.s.surance, tell them that _I, Pyramus, am not_ Pyramus, but _Bottom, the Weaver; that will put them out of fear_.' And as to the lion, there must not only be 'another prologue, to tell that he is not a lion,' but 'you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck, and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same _defect_, Ladies, or fair ladies, my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life.'

To such devices, in good earnest, were those compelled to resort who ventured upon the ticklish experiment of presenting heroic entertainments for king's palaces, where 'hanging was the word' in case of a fright; but, with a genius like this behind the scenes, so fertile in invention, so various in gifts, who could aggravate his voice so effectually, giving you one moment the pitch of 'the sucking dove,' or 'roaring you like any nightingale,' and the next, 'the Hercle's vein,'--with a genius who knew how to play, not 'the tyrant's part only,' but 'the lover's, which is more condoling,' and whose suggestion that the audience should look to their eyes in that case, was by no means a superfluous one; with a genius who had all pa.s.sions at his command, who could drown, at his pleasure, the sharp critic's eye, or blind it with showers of pity, or 'make it water with the merriest tears, that the pa.s.sion of loud laughter ever shed,' with such resources, prince's edicts could be laughed to scorn. It was vain to forbid such an one, to meddle with anything that was, or had been, or could be.

But does any one say--'To what purpose,' if the end were concealed so effectually? And does any one suppose, because no faintest suspicion of the true purpose of this play, and of all these plays, has from that hour to this, apparently ever crossed the English mind, at home or abroad, though no suspicion of the existence of any purpose in them beyond that of putting the author in easy circ.u.mstances, appears as yet to have occurred to any one,--does any one suppose that this play, and all these plays, have on that account, failed of their purpose; and that they have not been all this time, steadily accomplishing it?

Who will undertake to estimate, for instance, the philosophical, educational influence of this single Play, on every boy who has spouted extracts from it, from the author's time to ours, from the palaces of England, to the log school-house in the back-woods of America?

But suppose now, instead of being the aimless, spontaneous, miraculous product of a stupid, 'rude mechanical' bent on producing something which should please the eye, and flatter the prejudices of royalty, and perfectly ignorant of the nature of that which he had produced;--suppose that instead of appearing as the work of Starveling, and Snout, and Nick Bottom, the Weaver, or any person of that grade and calibre, that this play had appeared at the time, as the work of an English scholar, as most a.s.suredly it was, profoundly versed in the history of states in general, as well as in the history of the English state in particular, profoundly versed in the history of nature in general, as well as in the history of human nature in particular. Suppose, for instance, it had appeared as the work of an English statesman, already suspected of liberal opinions, but stedfastly bent for some reason or other, on advancement at court, with his eye still intently fixed, however secretly, on those insidious changes that were then in progress in the state, who knew perfectly well what crisis that ship of state was steering for; _query_, whether some of the pa.s.sages here quoted would have tended to that 'advancement' he '_lacked_.' Suppose that instead of Julius Caesar, 'looking through the lion's neck,' and gracefully rejecting the offered prostrations, it had been the English courtier, condemned to these degrading personal submissions, who 'roared you out,' on his own account, after this fashion. Imagine a good st.u.r.dy English audience returning the sentiment, thundering their applause at this and other pa.s.sages here quoted, in the presence of a Tudor or a Stuart.

One might safely conclude, even if the date had not been otherwise settled, that anything so offensive as this never was produced in the presence of Queen Elizabeth. King James might be flattered into swallowing even such treasonable stuff as this; but in her time, the poor lion was compelled to aggravate his voice after another fashion.

Nothing much above the sucking-dove pitch, could be ventured on when her quick ears were present. He 'roared you' indeed, all through her part of the Elizabethan time; but it was like any nightingale. The clash and clang of these Roman Plays were for the less sensitive and more learned Stuart.

_Metellus Cimber_. Most high, most mighty, And most puissant Caesar; Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart:--[_Kneeling_.]

_Caesar_. I must prevent thee, Cimber.

_These couchings and these lowly courtesies: Might_ fire the blood of ordinary men; AND TURN PRE-ORDINANCE, and FIRST DECREE, INTO THE LAW OF CHILDREN.

Be not fond To think that CAESAR bears _such_ REBEL _blood_, That will be thawed from the _true quality_, With that which melteth FOOLS. (?) I mean, _sweet words, Low, crooked curtsies_, and _base spaniel fawning.

Thy brother_ by _decree_ is banished; If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for _him, I spurn thee like a cur_, out of my way.

Know CAESAR DOTH NOT WRONG.

To appreciate this, one must recall not merely the humiliating personal prostrations which the ceremonial of the English Court required then, but that base prostration of truth and duty and honour, under the feet of vanity and will and pa.s.sion, which they symbolized.

Thus far _Caesar_, but the subject's views on this point, as here set forth, are scarcely less explicit, but then it is a _Roman_ subject who speaks, and the Roman costume and features, look savingly through the lion's neck.

One of the radical technicalities of that new philosophy of the human nature which permeates all this historical exhibition, comes in here, however; and it is one which must be mastered before any of these plays can be really read. The radical point in the new philosophy, as it applies to the human nature in particular, is the pivot on which all turns here,--here as elsewhere in the writings of this school,--the distinction of 'the double self,' the distinction between the particular and private nature, with its unenlightened instincts of pa.s.sion, humour, will, caprice,--that self which is changeful, at war with itself, self-inconsistent, and, therefore, truly, no SELF,--since the true self is the principle of ident.i.ty and immutability,--the distinction between that 'private' _nature_ when it is developed instinctively as 'selfishness,' and that rational immutable self which is const.i.tutionally present though latent, in all men, and one in them all; that n.o.ble _special_ human form which embraces and reconciles in its intention, the private good with the good of that worthier whole whereof we are individually parts and members; 'this is the distinction on which all turns here.' For this philosophy refuses, on philosophical grounds, to accept this low, instinctive private nature, in any dressing up of accidental power as the G.o.d of its idolatry, in place of that 'divine or angelical nature, which is the perfection of the human form,' and the true sovereignty. Obedience to that nature,--'the approach to, or a.s.sumption of,' that makes, in this philosophy, the end of the human endeavour, 'and the error and false imitation of that good, is that which is the tempest of the human life.'

But let us hear the pa.s.sionate Ca.s.sius, who is full of individualities himself, and ready to tyrannize with them, but somehow, as it would seem, not fond of submitting to the 'single self' in others.

'Well, honour _is_ the subject of my story.-- I can not tell what you, and other men, Think of this life; but for my _single self_, I had as lief not BE, as live to be In awe of such a thing _as I myself_.

I was _born_ free as Caesar; so were you.

We both have fed as well: and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he.'--

And the proof of this personal equality is then given; and it is precisely the one which Lear produces, 'When the wind made me chatter, there I found them,--there I smelt them out.'--

'For once upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her sh.o.r.es, etc.

--Caesar cried, Help me, Ca.s.sius, or I sink.

--And this man Is now become a G.o.d, and Ca.s.sius is A wretched creature, and _must bend his body_, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him--_I did mark How he did shake_: 'tis true, this G.o.d did shake.'

[This was a pretty fellow to have about a king's privacy taking notes of this sort on his tablets. Among 'those saw and forms and pressures past, which youth and observatior copied there,' all that part reserved for _Caesar_ and his history, appears to have escaped the sponge in some way.

'They told me I was every thing, 'tis a lie! I am not _ague_ proof.'--_Lear_.

His coward lips did from their colour fly.

'And that same _eye whose bend doth awe the world, Did lose his l.u.s.tre!--Julius Caesar_.

'--When I do stare see how _the subject_ quakes.--'_Lear_.]

I did hear him groan: Aye, and that tongue of his _that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books_.

Alas! it cried, '_Give me some drink_, t.i.tinius,'

As a sick girl. Ye G.o.ds, it doth amaze me, A man of _such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world_, And bear the palm alone.

_Brutus_. Another _general shout_!

I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.

_Ca.s.sius_. Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus: and we petty men Walk under his huge legs; and peep about To find ourselves DISHONOURABLE GRAVES.

Men, at _some time_, are _masters of their fates, The fault, dear Brutus_, IS NOT _in our_ STARS, But in ourselves that we are underlings.

_Brutus_ and _Caesar_: What should be in that _Caesar_?

Now in the names of all the G.o.ds at once, _Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed That he is grown so great_? AGE, thou art shamed: _Rome, thou_ hast lost the breed of n.o.ble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was famed with more than with _One man_?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, That her wide walls encompa.s.s'd but _One man_?

Now is it Home indeed, and room enough, When there is in it but one only man.

[When there is in it (truly) but _One only_,--MAN].

O! you and I have heard our fathers say, There _was a Brutus once_, that would have brook'd The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome, As easily as _a king_.

_Brutus_. What you have said, I will consider;--what you have to say I will with patience hear: and _find a time_ Both _meet to hear, and answer such high things_.

Till then, my n.o.ble friend, CHEW UPON THIS;-- Brutus had rather be a _villager_, Than to _repute_ himself a SON of ROME.

Under these hard conditions, as _this_ time Is like to lay upon us. [Chew upon this].

_Ca.s.sius_. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

[Re-enter Caesar and his train.]

_Brutus_. The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

_Ca.s.sius_. As they pa.s.s by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.

_Brutus_. I will do so:--But look you, Ca.s.sius, _The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow.

And all the rest look like a chidden train_: Calphurnia's cheek is pale; and _Cicero_ Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes, As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being crossed in conference by some senators.

_Ca.s.sius_. Casca will tell us what the matter is.