The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakspere Unfolded Part 54

'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 ill.u.s.trate 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 'ill.u.s.trious 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 _pa.s.s_. 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 ill.u.s.tration 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 ma.s.s.'

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 G.o.d 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 'G.o.dlike' 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 pa.s.sages, 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, pa.s.ses 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 mult.i.tude, 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 n.o.bility, and its suppression of the chartered dignities and rights of the Commons.

_Scene_.--A Street. Cornets. Enter CORIOLa.n.u.s 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 t.i.tUS 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 _n.o.ble_ sufferance.

_Sic_. Pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed the n.o.bLES 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 _n.o.bility_:-- _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 n.o.bleness._

_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_.