Of the three noble ladies, the wife is merely mentioned in Plutarch, without description, and it is Shakespeare who has created Coriolanus's "gracious silence," the tender-hearted Virgilia. She is a companion picture to Antony's Octavia, and small as is her part in the play, is well defined in her love and gentleness, in which injury to those she loves can yet awake fierceness, and in her resolution. Valeria, in Plutarch, makes her only appearance as the instigator of the female appeal to the victor, and the lead in that is soon taken by Volumnia; so that the lively friend and chronicler of the exploits of little Marcius is again the creation of the poet, who receives only from his source her sisterhood to Publicola and high character for modesty and wisdom. He has again greatly developed the character of Volumnia from what he found in Plutarch, where there is no indication of its harsher side and the only reflection upon it is that implied in the evils arising to Coriolanus from the loss of his father.

Plutarch's Volumnia is the cause of her son's love of honour, the mother for whose delight he sought always to win the garland of the war, "that she might still embrace him with tears running down her cheeks for joy." There is no hint of the forcefulness of her character and tinge of ferocity in her exultation that we see in the play, nor any of those traits which, as Mr. MacCallum has well pointed out, are not such as a poet would imagine for an ideal portrait of his own mother. Dr. Brandes's notion of such portraiture has been alluded to in this introduction in connection with the question of date. She is not expressly made responsible for the moulding of her son's character, and does not intervene with superior sagacity and prudence to induce him to soothe the people with humble words on his lips, belying the scorn and hatred in his heart. In his misfortune she is coupled with his wife in abandonment to sorrow, weeping and shrieking with her as he bids goodbye, but in the climax of Rome's and her son's fate, she sinks the mother in the Roman and displays an unselfish devotion to her country far above his once lauded patriotism. Shakespeare has but added touches to her noble pleading, and has not broken her still nobler silence. She saves her son from a great crime, and not solely by her sway over him and the inability to resist her which determined his course on a former occasion. Then his heart and judgment were against her, now only his vow and injured pride. The tender side of his nature is stirred to its depths, and his eyes

"sweat compassion." But if his countrymen have any in his pity, he neither forgives them nor forsakes his tr He returns to Antium to enjoy a brief welcome as enemy, and to glory in their defeat and shame.

Good critics have found in this play signs that the a creative power was waning, and point to the comparative ness of its tone, the tendency of the characters to ma think of types almost as much as individuals, the preoccu with theories of government, the feeling that Shakespea not dealt so imaginatively or sympathetically with h subject as in other cases. All these things might be ad without accepting the deduction. Something may lowed for reaction both in choice of subject and in trea of it after such a theme and such daring in its presen such rein given to imagination as in Antony and Cle Once chosen, the subject imposes limits on the dramatis we may ask ourselves how far a character drawn with palpable sympathy, or given more imagination than Cori would have accorded with it or with Shakespeare's own ing of it. It is curious to find coupled with the accusat monotony, the charge that the play "lacks the relief o underplot and comedy as enliven the great English chr histories.' The natural comparison is with tragedy than history, but the comic vein is by no means unimp in Coriolanus. The people are both consciously an consciously humorous; so too, the servants of Au Their wit is not always "strongly wedged up in a block It will as soon out as another man's will." Valeria is and humour is second nature to Menenius. Coriolanus h commands a bitter and sarcastic vein, and for a mom almost playful in a grim way with the servants at A The sudden, totally unexpected outbreak of little Mar the midst of the tension of the renunciation scene, whic so much in so little, is worth a whole comic scene.

Editors complain of the corrupt printing of Coriolanu as Mr. G. S. Gordon (Clarendon Press ed.) points out, are very few certainly corrupt passages. There are a number in which the lines need readjustment to restore to blank verse; but in regard to these Mr. Gordon appe examples of the irregular arrangements of the folio to that they read like "intentional recitative" and are superior to the revised versions "in every dramatic qua 1 Wendell, op. cit.

We may have much to learn about the delivery of blank verse on the stage, and it is true that a certain abruptness in the lines as printed sometimes adds force to their effect; but if the arrangement is intentional and due to the poet, why is it sporadic only? The run of the verse is oftener faultless when the same sort of recitative would have been effective, and, on the other hand, prose is sometimes printed as verse without any conceivable gain.

Mr. M. A. Bayfield in A Study of Shakespeare's Versification, 1920, contends that Shakespeare's fondness for the resolved foot and his assumed independence of the use of colloquial contractions and other vulgarisms, ought to make us expand not only o' th', a' th', etc., but even such convenient abbreviations as let's, what's, shall's, ha't, upon's, tane (ta'en), and discard dialectic forms like woo't, you'st, etc., which are used somewhat capriciously. The effect is associated with the particular system of prosody which Mr. Bayfield advocates and which cannot be considered here, but apart from results on the verse, acceptable or otherwise, it is impossible to impute colloquial forms to printers and editors only. In A History of Modern Colloquial English, 1920, p. 111, Professor H. C. Wyld has written much to the point on the general question involved: "We shall not assent to the view that certain habits in this politest form of Elizabethan speech, the outcome of natural linguistic tendencies, which are different from those now prevalent among the best speakers, are 'slipshod,' merely because a later age, wishing to be more 'correct,' has discarded them. If the speech of the great men we have been considering was unaffected and natural, it certainly was not vulgar. If it be vulgar to say whot for hot, stap for stop, offen for often, sarvice for service, venter for venture; if it be slipshod to say Wensday for Wednesday, beseechin for beseeching, stricly for strictly, sounded for swooned, attemps for attempts, and so on; then it is certain that the Queen herself, and the greater part of her Court, must plead guilty to these imputations in some or all of the above instances. The absurdity of such a contention is manifest, and it will not be seriously made by those who are properly informed of the facts." In Shakespeare and the Pirates, 1920, Mr. A. W. Pollard has shown the great probability that the author's autograph copies of his plays became the prompt-copies, and that the text of many of the plays, both of those printed in quarto and those which first appeared in the folio, were set up from them. This diminishes the chances of

What this

worde Virtus signifieth.

and commended his stowtnes and temperancie. But fo that, they could not be acquainted with him, as one ci useth to be with another in the citie. His behaviour w unpleasaunt to them, by reason of a certaine insolent sterne manner he had, which because it was to lordly, The benefit of disliked. And to saye truely, the greatest benefit that 1 learning. ing bringeth men unto, is this: that it teacheth men tha rude and rough of nature, by compasse and rule of reaso be civill and curteous, and to like better the meane state, the higher. Now in these dayes, valliantnes was honour Rome above all other vertues: which they called Virtu the name of vertue selfe, as including in that generall n all other speciall vertues besides. So that Virtus in the I was asmuche as valliantnes. But Martius being more ind to the warres, then any other gentleman of his time: beg from his Childehood to geve him self to handle weapons daylie dyd exercise him selfe therein. And outwar esteemed armour to no purpose, unles one were natu armed within. Moreover he dyd so exercise his bod hardnes, and all kynde of activitie, that he was very swi running, strong in wrestling, and mightie in griping, so no man could ever cast him. In so much as those that w trye masteries with him for strength and nimblenes, v saye when they were overcome: that all was by reason naturall strength, and hardnes of warde, that never yield any payne or toyle he tooke apon him. The first tim went to the warres, being but a strippling, was when Tar first going to surnamed the prowde (that had bene king of Rome, and driven out for his pride, after many attemptes made by su battells to come in againe, wherein he was ever overd dyd come to Rome with all the ayde of the Latines, and other people of Italie: even as it were to set up his whol apon a battell by them, who with a great and mightie a had undertaken to put him into his Kingdome againe, n much to pleasure him, as to overthrowe the power o Romaines, whose greatnes they both feared and envied ✓ this battell, wherein were many hotte and sharpe encount either partie, Martius valiantly fought in the sight of Dictator; and a Romaine souldier being throwen to the gr even hard by him, Martius straight bestrid him, and slu enemie with his owne handes that had before overthrowe Romaine. Hereupon, after the battell was wonne, the Di

Coriolanus

the warres.

youth killeth

devour to con

dyd not forget so noble an acte, and therefore first of all he crowned Martius with a garland of oken boughs. For who-Coriolanus soever saveth the life a Romaine, it is a manner among them, crowned with a garland of to honour him with such a garland. . . . Moreover it is daylie oken boughes. seene, that honour and reputation lighting on young men before their time, and before they have no great corage by nature: the desire to winne more, dieth straight in them, To soden which easely happeneth, the same having no deepe roote in honour in them before. Where contrariwise, the first honour that valiant further desier mindes doe come unto, doth quicken up their appetite, hasting of fame. them forward as with force of winde, to enterprise things of highe deserving praise. For they esteeme, not to receave reward for service done, but rather take it for a remembraunce and encoragement, to make them doe better in time to come; and be ashamed also to cast their honour at their heeles not seeking to increase it still by like deserte of worthie valliant dedes. This desire being bred in Martius, he strained still to passe him selfe in manlines: and being desirous to shewe a Coriolanus daylie increase of his valliantnes, his noble service dyd still noble enadvaunce his fame, bringing in spoyles apon spoyles from the tinue well enemie. Whereupon, the captaines that came afterwards (for deserving. envie of them that went before) dyd contend who should most honour him, and who should beare most honourable testimonie of his valliantnes. In so much the Romaines having many warres and battells in those days, Coriolanus was at them all : and there was not a battell fought, from whence he returned not without some rewarde of honour. And as for other, the only respect that made them valliant, was they hoped to have honour: but touching Martius, the only thing that made him to love honour, was the joye he sawe his mother dyd take of him. For he thought nothing made him so happie and honorable, as that his mother might heare every bodie praise and commend him, that she might allwayes see him returne with a crowne upon his head, and that she might still embrace him with teares ronning downe her cheekes for joye. Which desire they saye Epaminondas dyd avowe, and confesse to have Coriolanus bene in him as to thinke him selfe a most happie and blessed and Epaminman, that his father and mother in their life time had seene both place the victorie he wanne in the plaine of Leuctres. Now as for their desire of Epaminondas, he had this good happe, to have his father and mother living, to be partakers of his joye and prosperitie. But Martius thinking all due to his mother, that had bene also

ondas did

honour alike.