Coriolanus

To understand this character better one may look at it from another

angle, studying a man in whom these qualities were spoiled by the faults

that belong to them. Courage may become cruelty: pride fall into

arrogance: high contempt for others will grow to selfishness and

hardness; even a high devotion to one's country may be spoiled if it

comes to mean a devotion to one's own idea of what that country should

be like and how it should treat oneself. It may then be mere

selfishness. Many men love their country not as it is but as they think

it ought to be. This may be a good and helpful feeling if what they

think it ought to be depends not on their own private wishes and welfare

only, but on that of the people as a whole. A love of country of this

kind makes men strive incessantly to make it better. But some Romans

forgot the welfare of the people as a whole. The men belonging to the

old families, men who claimed to be descended from the early settlers,

who called themselves 'patricians', that is, the fathers of the State,

were apt to consider that what they thought must be so: that they alone

knew what was right and good. The welfare of the State depended on them.

They were the leaders in the army and in the government. They had no

patience with those who said that they should not settle everything in

Rome, that their idea of what was right and patriotic was not the end of

the matter; men who said that Rome was not this class or that but the

whole people. The city was growing fast; new settlers had come in, men

not counted as citizens, but men whose happiness and comfort depended on

the way the State treated them. These people, the 'plebs' as they were

called, were despised by many patricians. They looked upon them not as

Romans, but as creatures who could be made into soldiers when the city

needed soldiers, but at other times should keep quiet.

The faults and virtues of the patricians--and nearly all the heroes of

Roman story belong to patrician families--are well shown in the life of

Caius Marcius, called Coriolanus in honour of his victory outside the

town of Corioli.

_The Capture of Corioli_

One of the leading men in the camp was C. Marcius, who afterwards

received the name of Coriolanus, a youth of equal vigour in

counsel and in action. The Roman army was besieging Corioli and,

occupied with its people shut up behind their walls, had no fear

of attack from without, when the Volscian troops from Antium swept

down upon it, and at the same time the enemy sallied out of the

town. Marcius happened to be on duty, and with some picked troops

not only repelled the sally, but fearlessly rushed in through the

open gate and, after slaughtering the enemy in the neighbourhood,

chanced to come across some lighted brands and flung them on to

the buildings that adjoined the wall. Then the cries of the

townsmen, mingled with the shrieks of women and children that

quickly arose, as usual, when the alarm was given, encouraged the

Romans and dismayed the Volscians, inasmuch as they found that the

city which they had come to help was in the hands of the enemy.

Thus the Volscians from Antium were routed and Corioli was taken.

Livy, ii. 33. 5-9.

Caius Marcius belonged to one of the oldest and proudest families in the

Republic. A member of this family had been one of the Seven Kings. His

father died when Caius was but a boy and he was left in the charge of

his mother Volumnia. Volumnia was a woman of noble character and fine

mind. Her house was admirably ordered: everything in it was beautiful

and yet simple. She brought up her son well: he excelled in all manly

exercises, was of a courage that nothing could shake, scorned idleness,

luxury, and wealth: believed that the one life for a Roman was a life of

service to the death. But Volumnia did not succeed, as a father might

have done, in curbing the faults of the lad's character. Caius grew up

headstrong, obstinate, and excessively proud. Personally highly gifted

in mind and body, he was disposed to look down upon others less firm and

resolute. He set, for himself, a high standard of uprightness and

courage, and cared nothing for what other people thought of him. Among

the youths with whom he grew up he was the natural leader: his will

brooked no contradiction. Few dared to criticize or oppose him. Those

less firm in mind, less brave in action, less indifferent to the opinion

of others, he despised. Any one who failed in courage, endurance, or

devotion he condemned without sympathy.

When but a lad he won, for bravery in battle, the crown of oak leaves

given to soldiers who saved the life of a comrade in action. In all the

fighting of the hard years in which Rome was defending itself against

the other Italian peoples, Marcius was ever to the fore. He shrank from

no fatigue, no danger: he was always in the hottest of the fight: first

as a simple soldier, then as a general. In the field his soldiers adored

him because he shared all their hardships and always led them to

victory. Always, too, he refused to take any reward in money or riches.

But when these same soldiers got back to Rome Coriolanus had no sympathy

with them. Fighting was life to him: he did not see why it should not

satisfy every one or understand the hardships of the common man whose

wife and children were left behind in wretched poverty. There were

indeed many things Coriolanus did not see. His harsh mind condemned

without understanding the complaints of the poor. To him it seemed that

they thought of themselves, instead of thinking about Rome. He did not

realize that their hard lot compelled them to do so. His wealth and

birth made him free, but they were not free.

All the land belonged to the patricians. Wars made them richer because

the things their land produced fetched high prices, but the poor family

starved while the father was away at the wars, unable to earn, and they

had no money with which to purchase things. They had to pay taxes--and

wars always mean heavy taxes. They fell into debt and, under the harsh

Roman law, a debtor could be first imprisoned and then, unless some one

helped him by paying off what he owed, sold as a slave. Even a man

serving in the army might have his house and all the poor household

goods he had left at home seized because he or his wife had got into

debt. This harsh law finally produced a mutiny. The whole army marched

out of Rome and, taking up a position on the Sacred Mount outside,

stayed there until the Senate (this was the ruling body of the State, at

the time composed only of patricians) agreed first to change the harsh

laws about debt, and second to give to the poorer people a body of men

to look after their interests. These were the Tribunes. The appointment

of these tribunes angered many patricians, and especially Coriolanus.

Not understanding the sufferings of the people--he had always been far

removed himself from any such difficulties, belonging as he did to a

family of wealth and dignity--he thought that their discontents were

created by talk and idleness. And since there were men in Rome who got a

cheap popularity by perpetually reminding the people of their wrongs, he

sometimes seemed to be right. The tribunes he regarded as noxious

busybodies, whose loose talk was dividing Rome into two parties. In fact

there were two parties. Coriolanus could not see that the real cause of

the division was not what the tribunes said but what the people

suffered. He could see no right but his own, and all his powerful will

was set to driving that right through. To yield seemed to him

pusillanimous. There was bound to be a fierce struggle and it soon came.

Coriolanus made bitter scornful speeches, which enraged the people. They

smarted under his biting words and forgot all his great deeds. He became

more and more unpopular. This unpopularity only made him despise the

people, who judged men by words and not by deeds. At last the tribunes

accused him of trying to prevent their receiving the corn that had been

sent to them by the city of Syracuse and of aiming at making himself

ruler in the city. Finally they demanded that he should be banished.

Coriolanus scorned to defend himself. Instead of that he attacked the

tribunes and abused the people in terms of cruel scorn and contempt.

When the vote banishing him was carried he turned on them, declaring

that they made him despise not only them but Rome. He banished them:

there was a world elsewhere.

But though Coriolanus had always declared that he cared more for Rome

than for anything and desired not his own greatness but that of the city

and now pretended to scorn the people and the sentence they had passed

upon him, his actions showed how far his bitterness had eaten into his

own soul. He turned his back on Rome and betook himself to the camp of

Tullus Aufidius, the leader of the people of Antium, then engaged in war

against the Republic, and prepared to assist him in order to punish the

ungrateful Romans.

From this dreadful action he was saved by his mother Volumnia. Her

patriotism was truer and more unselfish than his. With his wife and his

young children she came to the camp, clad in the garb of deepest

mourning, dust scattered upon her grey hairs, and went on her knees to

her son to implore him not to dishonour himself by fighting against his

country. At last the true nobleness in the soul of Coriolanus made its

way through the anger and bitterness that had darkened it: he acceded to

Volumnia's prayers, though he well knew what the price for himself would

be. Rome was saved from a great danger, since the city had no general to

equal Coriolanus. He himself, however, was assassinated by the orders of

Aufidius, who soon afterwards was badly defeated in the field.

Coriolanus said to his mother, when she at last persuaded him to yield,

that she had won a noble victory for Rome, but one that was fatal to her

son. He was right. His very words showed that in some part of his mind

he realized how wrong and really unpatriotic his action had been; in

joining with the enemies of Rome he had shown clearly that what he loved

was not his country but his own pride. In the end, thanks to Volumnia,

he bent his head. The lesson to the Romans was a clear one: and in the

years that followed it was not forgotten. Coriolanus was remembered as a

hero, but also as a warning. When real danger threatened Rome the people

stood unshaken from without and from within. In the Roman camp there

were never any traitors.

_The Mother's Appeal_

Distracted by the sight of his mother, Coriolanus leapt wildly

from his seat and was advancing to embrace her when, turning from

supplication to anger, she exclaimed, 'Before I allow your

embrace, let me know whether I have come to an enemy or a son,

whether I am a prisoner or a mother in your camp. Has a long life

and helpless old age brought me to such a pass that I see you,

first as an exile, and afterwards as an enemy? Could you bear to

devastate this land that bore and nurtured you? However hostile

and threatening the spirit in which you came, did not your anger

fail when you crossed its border? When Rome was in sight, did you

not reflect, "Inside those walls are my home and its gods, my

mother, wife, and children?" If I had not been a mother, as it

seems, Rome would not have been besieged; if I had not a son,

I should have died free in a free country. But as for me, I can no

longer suffer anything that will add to my wretchedness or to your

disgrace and, wretched though I am, it will not be for long. These

younger ones have the claim upon you, for, if you persist, you

will bring them to a premature death or to a life of slavery.'

Then his wife and children embraced him, and the wailing that

arose from all the throng of women, and lamentations for

themselves and their country, at length broke his resolution. He

embraced them and sent them away, and at once withdrew his forces

from the city.

Livy, ii. 40. 5-10.

_A Happy Victory_

_Coriolanus._ O, mother, mother!

What have you done? Behold! the heavens do ope,

The gods look down, and this unnatural scene

They laugh at. O my mother! mother! O!

You have won a happy victory to Rome;

But, for your son, believe it, O! believe it,

Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,

If not most mortal to him. But let it come.

Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,

I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,

Were you in my stead, would you have heard

A mother less, or granted less, Aufidius?

_Auf._ I was mov'd withal.

_Cor._ I dare be sworn you were:

And, sir, it is no little thing to make

Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,

What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part,

I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you,

Stand to me in this cause.

Shakespeare, _Coriolanus_, V. iii.