We British: The Poetry of a People. Andrew Marr

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СКАЧАТЬ in England, as well as the democratic experiments of republican Rome. It’s just that as a man of his time, he doesn’t believe democracy could ever work. In his Roman play Coriolanus he puts into the mouths of the common citizens themselves his explanation of why they can’t successfully rule without an aristocratic leader: one explains that they are called ‘the many-headed multitude’, and another parses the thought:

      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.

      And we can’t be having that. In Shakespeare’s world, whether it’s Jack Cade’s rebellion in London or the common people of Rome, who sound and dress like Londoners, the crowd is always wrong, ridiculous and often menacing. Coriolanus himself, admittedly a study in overweening and arrogant ambition, simply can’t stick the idea of grovelling to the mob:

      Most sweet voices!

      Better it is to die, better to starve,

      Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.

      Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here,

      To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear,

      Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to’t:

      What custom wills, in all things should we do’t,

      The dust on antique time would lie unswept,

      And mountainous error be too highly heapt

      For truth to o’er-peer. Rather than fool it so,

      Let the high office and the honour go

      To one that would do thus.

      In the ancient conflict between the Roman mob and military dictatorship, Shakespeare uses an oily aristocrat, Menenius, to describe the traditional proper relationship between the different classes. In his fable, the other parts of the body rebel against the belly for gorging all the food – just as the rich take more than their fair share of social wealth. The belly replies:

      Your most grave belly was deliberate,

      Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer’d:

      ‘True is it, my incorporate friends,’ quoth he,

      ‘That I receive the general food at first,

      Which you do live upon; and fit it is,

      Because I am the store-house and the shop

      Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,

      I send it through the rivers of your blood,

      Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o’ the brain;

      And, through the cranks and offices of man,

      The strongest nerves and small inferior veins

      From me receive that natural competency

      Whereby they live: and though that all at once,

      You, my good friends,’ – this says the belly, mark me, –

      First Citizen. Ay, sir; well, well.

      Menenius Agrippa. ‘Though all at once cannot

      See what I do deliver out to each,

      Yet I can make my audit up, that all

      From me do back receive the flour of all,

      And leave me but the bran.’

      Now of course, these are only the words of another Roman aristocrat, and Shakespeare is the master of laying off one viewpoint against another. Nevertheless, the metaphor of the state as body would have been familiar and well understood to his audience. To us it may seem hilariously self-serving, but in the context of the original play it may well have felt like simple common sense.

      The flipside to Shakespeare’s distaste for anything resembling democracy is, of course, his insistence that rulers must be wise and virtuous – or rather, that any of their flaws and failings spread rapidly through the whole of society, causing distress to all. Good kings, bad kings, tyrants, the self-deluded, the saintly and the merely weak – Shakespeare is utterly obsessed by the problems of holding power. This explains, surely, the most distressing reversal in the entire canon, when lively, up-for-it Prince Hal turns on Falstaff, that great, incontinent, fleshly representation of all our baser appetites – the old slob we laugh at and we love – and coldly denies him:

      I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers;

      How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!

      I have long dream’d of such a kind of man,

      So surfeit-swell’d, so old and so profane;

      But, being awaked, I do despise my dream.

      Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;

      Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape

      For thee thrice wider than for other men.

      Reply not to me with a fool-born jest:

      Presume not that I am the thing I was;

      For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,

      That I have turn’d away my former self;

      So will I those that kept me company.

      When thou dost hear I am as I have been,

      Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,

      The tutor and the feeder of my riots:

      Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,

      As I have done the rest of my misleaders,

      Not to come near our person by ten mile …

      It is heartbreaking. Falstaff can’t believe it. By some reports Queen Elizabeth herself could not believe it, and wanted Falstaff back in another play. But for Shakespeare good kingship is the ultimate social good, which justifies even this biblical denial.

      In his careful obsession with the dynasties of England, Shakespeare does more than anyone else to identify the country itself with those who have ruled it. When we speak of Victorian Britain, СКАЧАТЬ