TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW Gnaeus Marcius, also known as Coriolanus, was a great military hero of ancient Rome. In the first half of the fif...
TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW Gnaeus Marcius, also known as Coriolanus, was a great military hero of ancient Rome. In the first half of the fifth century B.C. he won many important battles, saving the city from calamity time and time again. Because he spent most of his time on the battlefield, few Romans knew him personally, making him something of a legendary figure. In 454 B.C., Coriolanus decided it was time to exploit his reputation and enter politics. He stood for election to the high rank of consul. Candidates for this position traditionally made a public address early in the race, and when Coriolanus came before the people, he began by displaying the dozens of scars he had accumulated over seventeen years of fighting for Rome.
Few in the crowd really heard the lengthy speech that followed; those scars, proof of his valor and patriotism, moved the people to tears. Coriolanus's election seemed certain. When the polling day arrived, however, Coriolanus made an entry into the forum escorted by the entire senate and by the city's patricians, the aristocracy.
The common people who saw this were disturbed by such a blustering show of confidence on election day. And then Coriolanus spoke again, mostly addressing the wealthy citizens who had accompanied him. His words were arrogant and insolent. Claiming certain victory in the vote, he boasted of his battlefield exploits, made sour jokes that appealed only to the patricians, voiced angry accusations against his opponents, and speculated on the riches he would bring to Rome. This time the people listened: They had not realized that this legendary soldier was also a common braggart. News of Coriolanus's second speech spread quickly through Rome, and the people turned out in great numbers to make sure he was not elected.
Defeated, Coriolanus returned to the battlefield, bitter and vowing revenge on the common folk who had voted against him. Same weeks later a large shipment of grain arrived in Rome. The senate was ready to distribute this food to the people, for free, but just as they were preparing to vote on the question Coriolanus appeared on the scene and took the senate floor. The distribution, he argued, would have a harmful effect on the city as a whole. Several senators appeared won over, and the vote on the distribution fell into doubt. Coriolanus did not stop there: He went on to condemn the concept of democracy itself. He advocated getting rid of the people's representatives-the tribunes-and turning over the governing of the city to the patricians. When word of Coriolanus's latest speech reached the people, their anger knew no bounds. The tribunes were sent to the senate to demand that Coriolanus appear before them. He refused. Riots broke out all over the city. The senate, fearing the people's wrath, finally voted in favor of the grain distribution. The tribunes were appeased, but the people still demanded that Coriolanus speak to them and apologize. If he repented, and agreed to keep his opinions to himself, he would be allowed to return to the battlefield. Coriolanus did appear one last time before the people, who listened to hirn in rapt silence. He started slowly and softly, but as the speech went on, he became more and more blunt. Yet again he hurled insults! His tone was arrogant, his expression disdainful. The more he spoke, the angrier the people became. Finally they shouted hirn down and silenced hirn. The tribunes conferred, condemned Coriolanus to death, and ordered the magistrates to take hirn at once to the top of the Tarpeian rock and throw hirn over. The delighted crowd seconded the decision. The patricians, however, managed to intervene, and the sentence was commuted to a lifelong banishment. When the people found out that Rome's great military hero would never return to the city, they celebrated in the streets. In fact no one had ever seen such a celebration, not even after the defeat of a foreign enemy. Interpretation Before his entrance into politics, the name of Coriolanus evoked awe. His battlefield accomplishments showed hirn as a man of great bravery. Since the citizens knew little about hirn, all kinds of legends became attached to his name. The moment he appeared before the Roman citizens, however, and spoke his mind, all that grandeur and mystery vanished. He bragged and blustered like a common soldier. He insulted and slandered people, as if he felt threatened and insecure. Suddenly he was not at all what the people had imagined. The discrepancy between the legend and the reality proved immensely disappointing to those who wanted to believe in their hero. The more Coriolanus said, the less powerful he appeared-a person who cannot control his words shows that he cannot control hirnself, and is unworthy of respect. Had Coriolanus said less, the people would never have had cause to be offended by hirn, would never have known his true feelings. He would have maintained his powerful aura, would certainly have been elected consul, and would have been able to accomplish his antidemocratic goals. But the human tongue is a beast that few can master. It strains constantly to break out of its cage, and if it is not tamed, it will run wild and cause you grief. Power cannot accrue to those who squander their treasure of words.
Oysters open completely when the moon is JuZZ; and when the crab sees one it throws a piece oJ stone or seaweed into it and the oyster cannot close again so that it serves the crab Jor meat. Such is the Jate oJ him who opens his mouth too much and thereby puts himself at the mercy oJ the listener. I,eonardo da Vinci, 1 452-151 9 OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW In the court of Louis XIV, nobles and ministers would spend days and nights debating issues of state. They would confer, argue, make and break alliances, and argue again, until finally the critical moment arrived: Two of them would be chosen to represent the different sides to Louis hirnself, who would decide what should be done. After these persons were chosen, question from Kissinger-Lord snapped, "Damn it, yes, it's the best I can do. " To wh ich Kissinger replied: "Fine, then I guess I'll read it this time. "
KISSINGER, WALTER ISAACSON, 1992 The King [Louis XIV; maintains the most impenetrable secrecy about affairs of State. The ministers attend council meetings, but he confides his plans to them only when he has reflected at length upon them and has come to a definite decision. I wish you might see the King. His expression is inscrutable; his eyes like those of a fox. He never discusses State affairs except with his ministers in Couneil. When he ,peaks to courtiers he refers only to their respective prerogatives or duties. Even the most frivolous of his utterances has the air of being the pronouncement of an orude. PRIMI VISCONTI, QUOl'ED IN LOUIS XIV. LOUIS BERTRAND, 1 928 LAW 4 33 Unduliji,l words ofa subjecl do oflen lake deeper rool than Ihe memory of ill deeds, , , , The late Earl of Essex lolt! Queen Elizabeth that her condition.l' were as cTOoked a,l' her carcass; but il cosl hirn his head, which his insurrection had nol COsl hirn butfor thai speech. SIR WAU'ER RALE.IGH, 1554-1618 34 LAW 4 everyone would argue some more: How should the issues be phrased? What would appeal to Louis, what would annoy him? At what time of day should the representatives approach him, and in what part of the Versailles palace? What expression should they have on their faces? Finally, after all this was settled, the fatend moment would finally arrive. The two men would approach Louis-always a delicate matter-and when they finally had his ear, they would talk about the issue at hand, spelling out the options in detail.
Louis would listen in silence, a most enigmatic look on his face. Finally, when each had finished his presentation and had asked for the king's opinion, he would look at them both and say, "I shall see." Then he would walk away. The ministers and courtiers would never hear another word on this subject from the king-they would simply see the result, weeks later, when he would come to a decision and act. He would never bother to consult them on the matter again. Interpretation Louis XIV was a man of very few words. His most famous remark is "L'Uat, c'est moi" ("I am the state"); nothing could be more pithy yet more eloquent. His infamous "I shall see" was one of several extremely short phrases that he would apply to all manner of requests. Louis was not always this way; as a young man he was known for talking at length, delighting in his own eloquence. His later tacitumity was selfimposed, an act, a mask he used to keep everybody below him off-balance. No one knew exactly where he stood, or could predict bis reactions. No one could try to deceive him by saying what they thought he wanted to hear, because no one knew what he wanted to hear.
As they talked on and on to the silent Louis, they revealed more and more about themselves, information he would later use against them to great effect. In the end, Louis's silence kept those around him terrified and under his thumb. It was one of the foundations of his power. As Saint-Simon wrote, "No one knew as weIl as he how to seIl his words, his smile, even his glances. Everything in him was valuable because he created differences, and his majesty was enhanced by the sparseness of his words." It is even more damaging for a minister to say foolish things than to do them. Cardinal de Retz, 1 61 3-16 79
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