declaring, "He's a disease that must be cut away" (III.i.294) from the body politics of Rome. To this charge, the pro-Corolanius politician Menenius says: "Oh, he's a limb that has but a disease; / Mortal to cut it off; to cure it, easy" (III.i.295-296). Later in the play, Coriolanus takes up the body politic analogy, saying to Aufidius, "I will fight / Against my canker'd country with the spleen / Of all the under fiends" (IV.v.90-92).

Coriolanus is the strong arm of the city-state. His speech reaches its height when he invokes his planetary spirit, the war god Mars, and when he addresses his fellow Romans in terms that shame them into heroism. On the first count, before the walls of Corioles in Act I, Coriolanus expresses his true self, "now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work, / That we with smoking swords may march hence / To help our fielded friends! (I.iv.10-12). It is on the cusp or even in the midst of bloody action that Coriolanus finds his voice, and it is commanding. Two scenes later, he rallies the troops of Cominius:

If any think brave death outweighs bad life,
And that his country's dearer than himself;
Let him alone, or so many so minded,
Wave thus to express his disposition
And follow Marcius.
(I.vi.71-75)

In stark naked terms, Coriolanus is able to set forth the course of action ahead for his subordinates: embrace honor by emulating him or suffer a bad and dishonorable life.

In the ad hominem address cited above, Coriolanus uses the word "alone." The word is a key to his character and to the play as a whole, for Coriolanus is alone but he is not, as he tries to become, sui generis. Pressed to defend himself against the barbs of plebians and scheming tribunes, Coriolanus points out that he alone stormed by fortified gates of the Volscian capital. He later calls himself a dragon and is described by Menenius as a lonely dragon. True, his function as a military leader given to single combat and heroic deeds that separate him from all others explains part of Coriolanus's loneliness. Moreover, we gain the sense that even Menenius, his self-proclaimed father, is less interested in Coriolanus as a son than he is in Coriolanus as a source of power. But the solitary nature of Coriolanus is not only a matter of vocation or exploitation by others; it is self-imposed.

Upon his banishment from Rome, at the end of Act III, Coriolanus declares: "For you, the city, thus I turn my back: / There is a world elsewhere" (III.iii.134-135). What Coriolanus tries to do is to sever himself off from the body politic as an entity that exists on its own in a world elsewhere. In the concluding scene of the play, Coriolanus tells the senators of Volsces: "Hail, lords! I am return'd you soldier; / No more infected with my country's love / Than when I parted hence" (V.vi.70-72). After his expulsion by the Roman polity, Coriolanus tries to strip himself of any civil identity or name. Thus, Cominius reports that Coriolanus would not answer him, and "forbade all names," adding that "he was a kind of nothing, titleless" (V.i.13). In the brief audience that he extends to Menenius, Coriolanus avows: "Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs / Are servanted to others" (V.ii.80).

Therein, however, lies the source of his ultimate demise. Coriolanus can deny the name of a Roman citizen but he cannot deny the Roman blood that flows through his veins. Coriolanus cannot sustain the myth of his own self-generation; it is his parents, and most keenly Volumnia, who is the source, the creator of Coriolanus. In Act V, scene iii, upon seeing Volumnia enter camp before Rome, Coriolanus tries to steel himself against her sway:

All bond and privilege of nature, break!
Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.
…
I melt and am not
Of stronger earth than others.
…
Let the Volsces
Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand,
As if a man were author of himself
And knew no other kin.
(V.iii.25-37)

In the end, even Coriolanus cannot defy instinct. We know this in advance by what he says and does. Thus, in his conservation with Cominius after the battle of Corioles in Act I, the hero discloses that, "My mother, / Who has a character to extol her blood, / When she does praise me grieves me" (I.ix.13-15). Shortly thereafter, in the triumphant return that opens Act II, Coriolanus turns first to his mother, Volumnia, and then embraces his wife, Virgilia, as an afterthought.

At bottom, Coriolanus is dependent upon his mother and, above all, dependent upon conforming to the model of the heroic noble that she has bred him for and forged him into. In her famous speech as it appears in Act V, scene iii, Volumnia knows precisely how to press her son's buttons. She scolds and defames him for "Making the mother, wife, and child to see / The son, the husband, and the father, tearing / His country's bowels out" (V.iii.101-103). The kicker comes when Volumnia falls into a posture of supplication, saying "Down, ladies: let us shame him with our knees" (V.iii.169). For Coriolanus, the notion of his disgracing his own mother is so repugnant that the issue of his sparing Rome has been conclusively decided by it, as he cries out, "O my mother, mother!" (V.iii.185) and then perceives the consequences of Volumnia's action.

You have won a happy victory to Rome;
But for your son,—believe it, O, believe it,
Most dangerously have you with him prevail'd,
If not most mortal to him.
(V.iii.186-189).

Once Volumnia shames herself because of what her son plans for his motherland, Coriolanus has no choice but to shame himself by betraying the Volsces.

Lastly, reflecting the psychological depth of the conflict that takes place within Coriolanus, Shakespeare's Coriolanus has two strong sexual undercurrents that are pathological in nature. The first words that we hear Coriolanus's mother speak in Act I, scene iii, are "If my son were my husband" (l.2). In essence, Volumnia supplants Virgilia, acting as both mother and as wife to her son. There is an innuendo of incest in Volumnia's control over her son and the warlike flesh that she has nurtured. This aside, the relationship between Coriolanus and his arch-rival Aufidius, while anything but gay, has a corporeal, even sensual, caste. In the play's first scene, Coriolanus says of his Volscian nemesis, "I sin in envying his nobility; / And were I anything but what I am, / I would wish me only he" (I.i.230-232). Coriolanus longs to encounter Aufidius man-to-man. Aufidius, on his end, welcomes Coriolanus to his side with the words,

Let me twine
Mine arms around that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred time hath broke,
And scarr'd the moon with splinters.
(IV.v.106-109)

He goes so far as to say that his passion for Coriolanus is as great as his love for the "maid I married" (IV.v.114). Whether Aufidius loves Coriolanus in this passionate sense is problematical (see the character sketch). But that Coriolanus loves Aufidius is beyond question.

Coriolanus is often regarded as Shakespeare's most political play. It portrays a society undergoing rapid transformation, grappling with the challenges of a new form of government. Until recently, Rome was under monarchical rule, leaving the people without an independent voice. Now, in the early years of the republic, citizens participate in the election of consuls and have tribunes to represent their interests and protect them from abuses of power.

Similar circumstances exist globally in the late twentieth century. Many nations are currently facing significant governmental changes and the threat of political instability. After the fall of Communism in Eastern Europe during the 1990s, states previously under authoritarian regimes began transitioning toward democracy. During this same period, South Africa underwent a dramatic governmental restructuring, culminating in its first election where all citizens were encouraged to vote. In Asia, the pressures of Westernization are impacting both political life and national economies. In countries without a history of self-governance, ordinary citizens and their leaders face daunting challenges. Those who once held political power are hesitant to relinquish it, while those new to power must learn both its responsibilities and benefits.

These adjustments become even more challenging when a society is deeply divided by economic or social class. In Coriolanus, the patricians doubt the common citizens' ability to make informed political decisions. Conversely, the plebeians believe that the senate serves only the interests of the elite. Yet, nearly everyone in the play claims to prioritize Rome's well-being over personal gain. Can people truly place national unity above their own interests? In modern democracies, political parties are often seen as representing specific groups or factions rather than "all the people." The issue of national identity or integrity can become overshadowed by efforts to advance the agendas of particular groups or protect partisan interests. Do we trust each other—or our political leaders—to make selfless choices and fair decisions?

The ordinary citizens of Rome are skeptical of Coriolanus. His mother and friends advise him that to win the people's vote, he needs to conceal his true emotions and pretend to be someone he's not. In modern democracies, political candidates highlight certain aspects of their lives while minimizing others. Pollsters provide insights into public opinion, and campaign advisers recommend strategies to attract the majority of voters. Among politicians, this practical approach to politics is not seen as dishonorable; it’s simply how elections are won. In Coriolanus, those who urge the hero to deceive the public appear less virtuous than Coriolanus himself, who values personal integrity. However, the play suggests that Coriolanus's unyielding nature is as flawed as others' readiness to compromise their principles.

The play delves into issues beyond politics, including the role of violence in Roman culture. Volumnia’s eagerness for bloodshed is startling, but it mirrors her society to some extent. She proudly counts Coriolanus's wounds, partly because she knows they serve as political capital; the public will want to inspect each scar. In a culture where the greatest heroes are warriors who vanquish enemies, it’s unsurprising that ordinary citizens resort to any available weapons to defend their rights. Young Martius—first mutilating a butterfly, then later vowing to never be tread upon—illustrates how a child learns the culture of violence from their elders. What elements in contemporary society contribute to violent behavior? Are our popular heroes those who avoid conflict or those who revel in it?

Lastly, many critics have noted that Coriolanus is distinctive for its heavy reliance on what others say or report about the protagonist. The tragedy poses a crucial question: what defines "character"? Is it our actions, our words, or what others say about us? The "character" of Coriolanus remains elusive and complex. If we struggle to define the essence of a dramatic character, can we accurately do so for a real person? Are we the architects of our own "characters," as Coriolanus wishes to be, or do others—parents, teachers, friends, and foes—shape them for us?

Rome

Rome, the illustrious capital of the Roman Empire, stands majestically on the banks of Italy’s Tiber River, characterized by its iconic seven hills. Among these rises Capitoline Hill, the symbolic heart of Rome's political and historical identity. Here lies the senate house, a place of power where tribunes engage in crucial deliberations and new consuls are inaugurated. Capitoline Hill also features Rock Tarpeian, a notorious precipice from which traitors meet their end—a grim destiny hinted at for the protagonist Coriolanus. At the heart of Rome is the Forum, the vibrant marketplace where citizens converge. It is within this communal hub that Coriolanus seeks the support of the populace in his bid to ascend to the consulship.

Corioli

Corioli, a fortified city nestled within Volsci territory, stands as a bastion against Roman aggression. As the narrative unfolds, the Roman army positions itself strategically in trenches before Corioli’s imposing walls, preparing for confrontation. The gates of Corioli serve as the backdrop for a pivotal encounter, where Coriolanus courageously enters alone to confront Tullus Aufidius, the Volsci leader. Historically, the real battle of Corioli occurred in 493 B.C.E., yet the town's remnants have long since vanished, leaving its precise location shrouded in mystery.

Antium

Antium, a coastal town south of Rome, offers refuge amidst the turbulent tides of Roman-Volscian conflict. It is to this town that Tullus Aufidius retreats following the tumultuous battle at Corioli. Later, Antium becomes a sanctuary for Coriolanus when he is cast out from Rome, seeking the hospitality of Aufidius in a dramatic twist of allegiance. This Volsci settlement serves as a stage for the unfolding drama of political exile and shifting loyalties, reflecting the complex interplay of power and personal relationships that shape the narrative.

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