B. Matthews
“Coriolanus is a one-part play, as was Richard III., but the Roman piece is without the theatric variety and the psychologic interest of the English history. It is intolerably monotonous in its insistence upon a single character, dominated by a single unlovely characteristic— an overmastering pride, supported by an inhuman contempt for all who do not belong to his own caste. Pride goes before a fall, and Coriolanus sinks to the infamy of becoming a traitor who takes command of the enemies of Rome and leads them victorious to her walls. For this baseness he may have provocation enough, but he has no real justification, and he admits himself that his revenge on his native city is due to spite.
Shakspere exaggerates beyond belief the personal exploits of his hero. Coriolanus is a stalwart fighter, but he reveals none of the qualities of a great general. He has immense pride in his own prowess, in the strength of his thews; but he is narrow- minded and lacking in any genuine magnanimity of soul. He is ill-balanced and over-bearing; and such a character is too devoid of variety to attract play- goers, even if it had been exhibited in an artfully contrived plot, which Coriolanus has not. Moreover, the only really dramatic situation in the story that Shakspere finds in Plutarch—the surrender of Coriolanus to the appeal of his mother to spare the Rome which has turned him out—even this is not made to yield its full effect. It is probably this situation which led Shakspere to select the subject; and yet this scene is not as well done as Shakspere had handled corresponding situations in other plays. The speech of Volumnia to Coriolanus is a specimen of swelling eloquence, a towering example of rhetorical amplification, a big speech in itself, but it is wanting in heartfelt sincerity. A few simple moving words would have served the purpose better than this sonorous oration. Although there is no weakening here of the poet's power or of his intelligence, there seems to be a slackening of enthusiasm and a consequent diminution of emotional appeal. To this we may also ascribe the hardness of the play as a whole, its metallic brilliancy, its repellent temper. The atmosphere is petty and the political conflict in Rome is but a paltry factional fight. In Julius Cæsar the clash of the contending parties is a struggle for imperial dominion; and in Coriolanus it is only an intra- mural squabble. In Julius Cæsar we have world-politics, and in Coriolanus only ward-politics. We do not sympathize with either party, and plainly enough Shak- spere does not mean us to do so. He does not take sides himself, and we do not. He is impartial, and we have an equal dislike for both of the contending groups. The plebeians are crass and cowardly, and the patricians are cowardly and inca- pable. The mob is as flighty and as feather-brained as the mob in Julius Cæsar; and the fathers of the city act rather as stepfathers, selfish and self-seeking. On both sides there is a plentiful lack of common sense and of right feeling.”