Play of the Month: Coriolanus

I just completed studying Coriolanus, my tenth Shakespeare play. It is one of the last two tragedies that Shakespeare completed between 1605 and 1608, the other being Antony and Cleopatra. I studied the latter last year; with over 3,800 lines, it was the longest Shakespeare play I had read at the time. Its scenes are set during the turbulent years when the Roman Republic was transitioning into the Roman Empire. 

Interestingly, Coriolanus is even longer, containing over 4,000 lines. Furthermore, its scenes are set in ancient Rome, over two hundred years earlier than those of Antony and Cleopatra. The play begins just after the last Roman king, Tarquinius, is overthrown, marking the end of the Roman Kingdom and the beginning of the Roman Republic. By studying Coriolanus alongside Antony and Cleopatra, I have gained a clearer picture of the complex history surrounding the Roman Kingdom, the Roman Republic, and the Roman Empire.

It also allowed me to appreciate the deep Roman roots in Shakespeare’s works. While Britannia, the Roman province covering much of Great Britain, was established after the Roman conquest of AD 43, Roman influence had begun nearly a century earlier when Julius Caesar invaded Britain in 55 and 54 BC during the Gallic Wars. The Roman occupation of Britain, under the name Britannia, lasted until AD 410.

The play showcases the social structure of the Roman Republic, which consisted of plebeians and patricians. Although plebeians made up the general body of free Roman citizens, patricians had better representation in the Roman assemblies and were the only ones eligible for high political offices such as dictator, consul, and censor. In addition, all priesthoods were available for patricians only. Through the play and extended study I also learned the stories behind words and terms such as capitol (derived from Capitoline Hill), forum (derived from Roman Forum, a marketplace), and Tarpeian Rock (an execution site at Capitoline Hill, named after the Roman maid Tarpeia).

The play is based on the life of the legendary Roman leader Gnaeus Marcius, an exceptionally proud and brave patrician soldier, who is given the name of Coriolanus after his military feats against the Volscians at Corioli. Following his success, Coriolanus is encouraged by his mother Volumnia to pursue the consulship, but his disdain for the plebeians and mutual hostility with the tribunes lead to his banishment from Rome. In exile, he presents himself in Antium to Tullus Aufidius, his former rival, then leads the Volscians against Rome. After relenting and agreeing to peace with Rome, he is killed by his previous Volscian allies. 

The play is often considered Shakespeare’s most overtly political work, as it portrays a patrician-plebeian conflict that in some ways echoed the ongoing political struggle between King James and the English Parliament when the play was written. The most significant figure in Coriolanus's life is his domineering mother, Volumnia. As a woman, she lacks the ability to achieve power on her own in the male-dominated Roman society, but she raises her son to be a great soldier, and it is her ambition that puts him on the disastrous track toward the consulship. Moreover, while his legendary stubbornness holds sway in every other situation, Volumnia alone can overcome it and convince Coriolanus to spare Rome, unwittingly setting his doom in motion.

Quoted herewith are dialogues or soliloquies that impressed me the most in the play, in modern English translation:

MENENIUS (Act 1, Scene 1)

Listen to me, my friend. The belly was quite serious, and careful in his answer—unlike his rowdy accusers—and answered like this: "It's true, friends of my body," he said, "That I receive the food we all depend on first, but of course I do: I'm the body's storage and its grocery store. But don't forget that I distribute nutrients into the rivers of your blood, and to the heart, and to the brain; it is I who send that energy everywhere, into all the working parts of a man. Both the strongest nerves and the tiniest little veins get their livelihood from me. And despite all of that, you really want to say to me"—the belly says this, just to be clear—

COMINIUS (Act 1, Scene 9)

You are too modest, and your modesty only tarnishes your reputation. Please, if you truly think so little of yourself, we'll restrain you like one restrains a man who wants to hurt himself—then we can talk reasonably with you. Therefore, be it known to all the world as it is clear to us, that Caius Marcius wears this war's garland. In token of his victory, I give him my noble steed along with his luxurious saddle and bridle, known to everyone in the camp. From this time forward, for what he did in Corioli, let us all call him—with the applause and approval of the whole army—[shouting, as though to the whole army] Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Bear that name nobly forever!

COMINIUS (Act 2, Scene 2)

I will barely be able to tell what he has done. The deeds of Coriolanus should not be uttered weakly. They say that bravery is the most important virtue: if so, the man I speak of has no equal in the world. When he was sixteen years old and Tarquin attempted to conquer Rome, he fought far behind enemy lines, beyond the reach of others. [Pointing into the senate at an elder statesman] Our leader at the time, who with all praise I point at, saw him fight, when with his Amazonian chin he drove grown men to flee him. He stood over a fallen Roman and in the view of the consul, killed three men to defend him. He met Tarquin himself, and struck him on the knee. In that battle, he was so young he could have acted the woman in the scene, instead he proved the best man in the fight, and for his bravery was awarded the oaken garland. He advanced from boy to man this way, swelling like the sea, and in the midst of seventeen battles since he cheated everyone else of the garland. For this last fight, just now in Corioli, let me say there is no praise sufficient. He kept our men from fleeing, and by his incredible example made our cowardly men confident. As weeds bend away from a ship at sail, so men obeyed and fell beneath his force; his sword was death itself: where it struck, it killed; from face to foot he was a thing of blood as in a dance, a man whose every movement was timed to dying cries. Alone, he entered the gates of Corioli and painted it with the blood of his victims like Fate itself; without aid he did this, as though suddenly strengthened, and struck Corioli like a planet. Now everything is his: when sounds of war returned him to awareness as from a trance, he braced himself and by his own power made himself alive again; he came to the battle outside the city and ran like a war machine over the lives of men, as though it were a game, a slaughter, and until we called both the battle and the city ours, he did not stand to take a breath.

SICINIUS (Act 2, Scene 3)

Assemble the people and be more reasonable: revoke this ignorant election. Remind the people of his pride and long-standing hate for them, and don't forget the contempt with which he wore his humble toga—how even as he asked you for approval, he scorned you. Your good nature, thinking on his service, blinded you to the way he behaved in that moment, which so reflected the deep-seated hate he has for you.

BRUTUS

Blame your choice on us, your representatives. Say that it was we who insisted you elect him.

SICINIUS

Say you chose him more because we commanded it than out of your own true feelings, and that your minds, preoccupied with what you had to do rather than what you should do made you go against yourselves to name him consul. Blame us.

BRUTUS

Right, don't leave us out of it. Say we lectured you. That we reminded you how young he was when he began to serve his country, how he has done so ever since, that he comes from a strong people, the noble family of the Marcians—the family of Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, who was king of Rome after the great Hostilius, and of Publius and Quintus, who built our aqueducts; even Censorinus, nobly named for being twice elected censor, was his great ancestor.

CORIOLANUS (Act 3, Scene 1)

I'll give my reasons, far better than their voices. They know the corn was not payment to them; they know every well they did nothing to deserve it. At war, even when the enemy was at our gates, they would not stand to fight. This kind of service does not earn corn out of generosity. And in the war, they showed the most bravery in their mutinies and revolts; these did not speak well of them. The accusations which they constantly make against the Senate, all without reason, could never be the reason behind giving them corn. So why did we? What do you think the public has learned from this? Here's what they are probably saying to themselves: "We asked for it, and since there are more of us, they gave in to our demands in true fear." By doing this, we  weaken our own position and make the rabble call our generosity fear. In time, this will break the senate open and bring in crows to peck the eagles.

SICINIUS (Act 3, Scene 3)

For crimes against the people—seeking to pluck away their power, and now at the end for his hostile blows in the presence not only of the judges but of the people themselves—in the name of the people and by the power vested in us as tribunes we, from this instant onward, banish him from our city, Rome. If he ever again enters our gates, he will be thrown off the Tarpeian rock. In the people's name, I say it shall be so.

CORIOLANUS (Act 4, Scene 5)

My name is Caius Marcius, the man who has done great damage to you and to all the Volsces. From that damage comes my surname, Coriolanus. That surname is the only thing left of the painful service, extreme dangers, and all the blood I shed for my thankless country. It is a memorial to the hatred you should have for me—only that name remains. The cruelty and envy of the common people, which our idiot nobles allowed, has devoured all of Rome. The people yelled me out of Rome. This difficult situation has brought me to your home, not out of hope to save my life—don't get me wrong; if I feared death I would have avoided you more than anyone else—but out of spite, to fully condemn those who banished me. That's why I'm here. If you have a heart filled with rage, and you would like to avenge the wrongs which Rome has done to your country, Volscian, take advantage of my misery: use me, in my spirit of revenge, for your own war; I will fight against my poisoned country with the rage of every devil in hell. But if you don't dare to do this, and are tired of fighting, then I must admit to you that I am also just as tired of living; here is my throat, the object of your hatred, which you would be a fool not to cut—since we have always been enemies and I have spilled tons of blood from your country, to leave me living would only bring you shame—unless you take me into your service.

AUFIDIUS (Act 4, Scene 5)

Oh Marcius, Marcius! Every word you've spoken has pulled from my heart a root of ancient hatred. If god himself were to speak from behind a cloud, and say "It's true!" I wouldn't believe him any more than you, noble Marcius. Let me throw my arms around that body, against which I have broke my weapon a hundred times, and scarred the moon with splinters.[Forcefully hugs Marcius]  I embrace the anvil of my sword, and would fight as hard for your love as I have fought against you in the past for valor. You must know that I loved the woman I married—no one has said a truer thing—but now that I see you here—you noble thing!—my heart dances, entranced, more than when I first saw my bride in her dress. Why, you are Mars himself! I tell you, I have an army in the field, and if I had good reason to fight with you once more I'd give my right arm to do it. You've beaten me a dozen times, and I have dreamed every night since of encounters between us: we've been wrestling together in my sleep, unbuckling our helmets, grasping at each other's throat. Every time, I wake with nothing. Worthy Marcius, if we had no other bone to pick with Rome except that you were banished, we would muster every man between the ages of twelve and seventy, and we would pour war like boiling oil into the stomach of ungrateful Rome—like a flood we would drown her. Oh, come, go in, and shake hands with the friendly senators who are here bidding me good luck to move against your territories, though not until now Rome itself.

VOLUMNIA (Act 5, Scene 3)

If we stayed silent and did not speak, our clothes and bodies alone should tell you how we've lived since your exile. Just consider: we are the most miserable women alive, since now that we have finally seen you again, that sight—which should make our eyes flow with joy and our hearts dance—instead makes us weep and shake with fear and sorrow. We, the mother, wife, and child are forced to see the son, husband, and the father tearing the guts out of his country. And to us, your hatred is even worse. You prevent us even from praying to the gods, something which even the most wretched can do—for how could we pray for our country, if it is to pray against you, or for you, if against our country? We see a disaster in either case: either you must, as a foreign monster, be led in chains through our streets, or else you will triumphantly walk through the ruins of Rome, and wear garlands for having bravely killed your wife and child. As for me, son, I cannot wait to see what happens. If I cannot persuade you to be merciful to both yourself and Rome rather than seek to destroy one, you will no sooner march to attack your country than you will walk over my dead body, the very womb that brought you into this world.

VIRGILIA

Indeed, and mine too, the body that brought you this boy, your son, who bears your name.

YOUNG MARCIUS

You will not tread on me. I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight you.

CORIOLANUS (Act 5, Scene 6)

Honorable lords! I have returned again as your soldier, no more infected with my country's love than when I left, but still under your great command. You must know that I successfully led the army in your wars to the very gates of Rome. The spoils we brought home will pay for more than a third of the entire war. We have made peace with great honor to this city and great shame for the Romans. [Holding a paper] Here I deliver the treaty, agreed to by the consuls and the nobles and signed by the senate.

AUFIDIUS

Yes, Marcius! Caius Marcius. Do you think I'll honor you with that robbery, that name you stole from Corioli—Coriolanus? You lords and heads of state, how disloyally he has betrayed us all, and given up your city Rome—I say "your city"—for a few drops of salt from wife and mother. He has broken his oath like he would tear a piece of rotten silk; at his nurse's tears he, like a complaining child, begged and sobbed away your victory. Servants blushed to see it, and brave men looked at each other in shock.