Let the first budger die the other’s slave,
And the gods doom him after.
- Caius Marcius Coriolanus
Shakespeare turns to 5th century BC Roman history for a deeply serious drama depicted in combat scenes between fierce enemies, conflicts between patricians and the plebeians, and contrasting perspectives within family. His treatment of war, statesmen, citizens and family life is surprisingly unusual in that the common denominator in all, the hero, is motivated by a powerful mother-son dynamic.
Caius Marcius, a hot-tempered young man of unbridled brute strength, a militant idealist incapable of acting beneath his idea of honor or integrity, who rigidly believes "brave death outweighs bad life, And that his country’s dearer than himself," who has shown no fear but only insensitivity to battle wounds, returns from the Volscian war as the valiant hero in the siege of Corioles, to the only two women of his affection, his mother and his wife. Whereas other men find glory in their unswerving valor, he finds the thrill of glory through his mother's joy, that she should hear him praised and see him crowned: "To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he returned his brows bound with oak."
Volumnia, his mother, part of the feminine - though not the sentimental - strand in the play, stands out as a formidable character: a military mother whose patriotism and pride in the bravery of the family's great soldier reign supreme over the shedding of his blood, even if it would have cost his life, for "then his good report should have been my son. I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Martius’, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action." The honor of this hero reflects greatly on dreams of her own glory.
Newly surnamed 'Coriolanus,' superior as a warrior for that is his nature, he is contemptuous of any life other than on the field or of any occupation but that of battle, who neither fully understands himself nor anyone else for that matter, such that leadership of the populace and compromise are beyond his skill, has not the temperament for a consul position, despising and distrusting of the political role his mother entreats him:
The smiles of knaves
Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys’ tears take up
The glasses of my sight! A beggar’s tongue
Make motion through my lips, and my armed knees,
Who bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath received an alms! I will not do’t,
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
And by my body’s action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.
Against his own judgment, he acquiesces to her wishes but in so doing, reveals how much he hates these people who revolt against the laws, the 'plebs' from whom he must beg for votes; his arrogant lack of understanding for their plight in turn fuels their contempt of him, resulting in a trial and the call for his exile. In his most venomous rebuke in the play, Coriolanus spews:
You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate
As reek o’th’ rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air: I banish you.
And here remain with your uncertainty.
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts;
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders, till at length
Your ignorance—which finds not till it feels—
Making but reservation of yourselves,
Still your own foes, deliver you
As most abated captives to some nation
That won you without blows! Despising
For you the city, thus I turn my back.
There is a world elsewhere.
Coriolanus's downfall is borne by vengeful wrath as he leaves Rome a turncoat to fight for the opposition alongside his Volscian foil, Aufidius. Alas, the once defender of Rome is eventually betrayed very much in Roman style (when one thinks of Julius Caesar); betrayed by many in Shakespeare's version, but most tragically and unwittingly by one in particular, whom he calls 'mother,' for it is in the midst of Aufidius's camp she beseeches her son to spare their city. His response shows a wilting resolve:
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?
Shakespeare takes imaginative license in bringing the female influence to the foreground laying blame in part at her feet! Softened by the pleas of the mother he could not deny, blinded so by uncontrolled fury he could not foresee the total effect of his action, Coriolanus is called 'traitor' by Aufidius, is ambushed and stood no chance at all. Thou hast done a deed whereat Valour will weep. A volatile yet sympathetic creature of boyish recklessness lacking perhaps the self-awareness and insight of an adult, falls victim in the end to his tempestuous nature.
Coriolanus actually is not a difficult play to read even with the hero's sharply vituperative dialogue. Shakespeare's theatrical plotting around a piece of Roman history was fairly straight forward, lacking the complexity or twisted scenarios in his more notable plays and therein, not too hard to interpret. Oddly, for that very reason it may be one pick in the canon to read for those initially apprehensive of the great bard.