The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakspere Unfolded Part 42

_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 compa.s.s.

[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 Coriola.n.u.s 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 known The 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 G.o.ds!

_You must not speak of that_; you must desire them To 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 bra.s.s 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 n.o.bly of your country, and you have not deserved n.o.bly.

_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 G.o.ds 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._]