The Gendering of Tragedy: Honor in Shakespeare’s Coriolanus

Introduction

In the tragedies of William Shakespeare, themes of vengeance, chaos, uncertain honor, and untimely death permeate the narratives, whether portraying the downfall of a noble king, impassioned general, or valiant warrior. One such tragedy, "Coriolanus," explores the societal and self-destruction of a Roman warrior paragon, illustrating the consequences of excessive character traits, even honor itself.

This play introduces a nuanced examination of gender dynamics, particularly through the characters of Coriolanus and Volumnia. It delves into the intricate relationship between masculine and feminine concepts of honor in Roman society. Despite being semantically intertwined, these notions of honor manifest independently, leading to a conflict that drives the tragic outcome of the play, ultimately seeking to restore this chief virtue to both characters.

Value of Honor in Roman Society

Within "Coriolanus," both genders hold honor in higher esteem than limb, life, or love. Volumnia, a prominent Roman matriarch, immediately establishes this value upon her entrance, expressing,

"If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honor than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love" (1.3.2-5).

Coriolanus, her son, exemplifies this verbal esteem through action, willingly leaving his wife and child whenever his role as an honorable warrior demands, and embracing the wounds that come with it. Even minor characters uphold this value system; for instance, Cominius, a Roman general and Coriolanus' father figure, articulates his devotion to honor, stating,

"I do love my country's good with a respect more tender, more holy and profound, than mine own life, my dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase" (3.3.111-14).

In this declaration, Cominius not only underscores the significance of honor to Shakespeare's Romans but also elucidates its societal significance—sacrifice for patriotic defense, essential for the welfare of the nation. Both genders subscribe to this definition, with Coriolanus elaborating on it during the first act. When given the choice of Cominius' best men to fight alongside, Coriolanus proclaims:

"...if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report, 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 Martius." (1.6.70-6)

The "ill report" feared here signifies the loss of honor in the eyes of one's peers—a concept that Coriolanus closely ties to a profound sense of duty to one's country. Linda Bamber, a professor at Tufts University, in her book "Comic Women, Tragic Men: A Study of Gender and Genre in Shakespeare," explores this semantic fusion of gendered perceptions of honor. She notes the preference, not only among males but also females, for a "bloody ambitious sort of honor" (91). Volumnia epitomizes this fanaticism, asserting,

". . . 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" (1.3.22-5).

While Coriolanus and Volumnia share similar definitions of honor, their socially prescribed methods for attaining it differ significantly. In Roman society, males, represented by Coriolanus, primarily acquire honor through physical participation in battle—an ethos instilled from early childhood. This is exemplified in Coriolanus' son, who, sharing his father's name, symbolizes an extension of his martial qualities. The text praises him for exhibiting warlike tendencies when he aggressively destroys a butterfly that had provoked him during his pursuit (1.3.54-67).

Symbols of Honor

War, as the sole means of achieving masculine honor, further marks a patrician boy's entrance into manhood, a ritual recounted by Volumnia when she notes

". . . To a cruel war I sent / [Coriolanus], from whence he returned, his brows bound with / oak . . . I sprang not more in joy at / first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing / he had proved himself a man" (1.3.13-17).

Through battle in their country's defense, men symbolically achieve true masculinity and the honor it entails, something Will Fisher shows by noting that, while Coriolanus lacks signifiers such as a beard, "he performs martial feats which quite literally confer masculinity" (155).

Despite its realization independent of the physical signs of puberty, this masculine honor, bestowed as a result of the sacrifice of the self, requires symbols upon the self, specifically Coriolanus' scars and cognomen, for Roman recognition. Cominius bestows the latter of these two symbols shortly after witnessing Coriolanus face and subdue an entire city alone, proclaiming,

"For what he did before Corioles, call him, / With all th' applause and clamor of the host, / Caius Martius Coriolanus. Bear / th' addition nobly ever!" (1.9.62-5).

Immediately upon his return to Rome with the noble addition, Coriolanus receives recognition of his honor's extent from the general populace, who, despite their hatred of his supposed pride and unkind tongue, find themselves unable to rightfully deny the services he has shown his country. Beyond his name, Coriolanus' scars, each a visual proclamation of flesh sacrificed, provide a further, perhaps more widely available, means for the soldier to prove his honor. Coppélia Kahn in her feminist analysis of Shakespeare's works supports this symbolism, noting that

"wounds signify martial prowess . . . The warrior who survives his wounds asserts the impregnability of the male body . . ." (153).

The Roman female, by contrast, must obtain honor through the gendered Other rather than the Self, through maternal and, indirectly, martial sacrifice as the physical and pedological mold of Rome's mortal weapons. Kahn demonstrates this feminine role, arguing the existence of two "constructions of the maternal," the second of which is that "a mother produces sons for the state, to which she owes them" (146).

Women, to whom social scripts make participation in battle unavailable, realize their honor through association with and support of those without this restriction. While these men-as-honor-sources need not necessarily be sons, as in the case of Virgilia whose husband fulfills the role, for the widowed Volumnia the filial source remains the sole source from which to enact her patriotism. This role as mother sacrificing son to state manifested itself prior to Coriolanus' birth when Volumnia ". . . help to frame [him]," continued during his infancy when she recalls to Coriolanus, "thou suck'st [thy valiantness] from me," and remains for the adult Coriolanus around whom the plays centers.

In the final stage of his life, Coriolanus, able now to earn the battle honor for which his mother shaped him, achieves such that may reflect back upon its source, his outward recognition becoming the symbol of his mothers' dues paid to her country and, consequently, her honor. For Volumnia and the other honorable Roman women whom she represents, this leads to an inability to distinguish between honor and honors, as she receives a quantity of the former equal in proportion to the amount of the latter bestowed upon her son. Volumnia demonstrates her connection of the two early in the play, stating,

"I, considering how / honor would become [Coriolanus]-that it was no better / than picturelike to hang by th' wall, if renown / made it not stir . . ." (1.3.9-12).

Renown, often the product of publicly granted honors such as the consulship Volumnia will later plead with her son to do all necessary to attain, receives the status among Roman women, in this statement, of that alone which confers worth upon honor. The desire for Coriolanus' renown serves as the prompt of Volumnia's later statement, "O, he is wounded: I thank the gods for't" (2.1.118), a statement the matriarch qualifies with "There will / be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall / stand for his place" (2.1.143-5).

Conversely, the difference in masculine and feminine honor actualization makes the distinction between honor and honors clear for Coriolanus, who will not sacrifice the former by begging for the latter. While he wears his wounds proudly and thanks Cominius for the "good addition" of his surname (1.9.71), Coriolanus consistently rejects verbal, material, and societal rewards as a means of external compensation for internal sacrifice. For example, when offered his choice of the defeated Corioles' spoils, the warrior remarks,

"I thank you, general, / But cannot make my heart consent to take / A bribe to pay my sword" (1.9.37-9).

Menenius recognizes this rejection by Coriolanus noting, "He'd rather venture all his limbs for honor / Than one on's ears to hear it . . ." (2.2.74-6). This dismissal of outward praise by Coriolanus is something Lynn Enterline interprets as a socially acceptable means for the hero to obtain more of that which he denies himself (25), and Kahn echoes this belief, observing that even when Coriolanus "rejects the praises wounds elicit, he does so in a way that recalls them" (153).

While each denial by Coriolanus does in fact reference the scars upon his frame, his motivation for this repetition stems more likely from the fact that the praise, not his wounds, bears a connotation of shame. Earned solely for his country, the depiction of Coriolanus' wounds as a means for gaining self tribute marks a form of sacrilege for the noble warrior. Coriolanus' own words regarding his unwillingness to praise himself lend support to this interpretation:

"To brag unto them 'Thus I did, and thus!' / Show them th' unaching scars which I should hide, / As if I had received them for the hire / Of their breath only!" (2.2.146-9).

This absolute adherence to honor on the part of Coriolanus confirms his role as the ne plus ultra of Roman warrior virtue, a character excess which disrupts the socially perceived harmony between the bestowing of honors and the recognition of honor, creating the conflict that leads to Coriolanus' expulsion. Standing for consulship, Coriolanus cannot, as noted, subdue his honor, specifically by exchanging the mannerisms prescribed for the protection of his country for those best suited to further himself, "doff[ing] his hat, kneeling, bowing his head in humility" (Kahn 155).

In addition, neither the plebeian nor the patrician classes of Rome measure up to Coriolanus' ideal of honor. Presenting their country with demands for comestibles rather than sacrifices for its safety, the commoners are, according to him,

"curs, / That like nor peace nor war . . . Where he should find [them] lions, finds [them] hares" (1.1.166-7, 169).

His fellow soldiers fare no better in his estimation, accepting retreat to their trenches rather than accompanying him within the enemy's walls and thereby incurring description as

". . . a plague . . . / The mouse ne'er shunned the cat as they did budge / From rascals worse than they" (1.6.42-5).

This combination of an excess of honor in Coriolanus and a lack of absolute honor in Roman society leads the tragic hero to hold no value for societal opinions, refusing to yield to the will of either class when standing for consulship. As a result Coriolanus' political enemies, Sicinius and Brutus, seize upon both his forsaken humility and righteous hatred of the plebeians in order to play on public fears that the commoners will suffer under his government.

This results in a treason trial, during which both Rome's patricians and plebeians refer to Coriolanus as "Martius" while requesting or allowing his exile, stripping him of both the lexical emblem and patriotic root of his honor. This revocation of Coriolanus' honored cognomen initiates in the accusations of Sicinius, "Martius would have all from you, Martius, / Whom late you have named for consul," is echoed by all the commoners present in their proclamation of, "Yield, Martius, yield!," and even extends to those held highest in his affection with Menenius declaring, "Help Martius" (1.3.196-7, 217, 228).

Sicinius and Brutus meanwhile succeed in their demands and, with little protest from Coriolanus' own class; the people pronounce a verdict of banishment. Although the later lines of Coriolanus' fellow nobles restore to him his title, the link between the moment of declared exile and the stripping of his name signifies the connection between loss of statehood and loss of honor.

Despite this loss of statehood, Coriolanus refuses to change the composition of his character, declaring upon his exit from society,

"While I remain above ground, you shall / Hear from me still, and never of me aught / But what is like me formerly" (4.2.51-3).

However, he now lacks a higher power to surrender himself to in the pursuit of honor, and therefore, must, in order to restore this honor, displace it onto the land of equally honorable enemy, the Volsces. Upon learning of this enemy's approach in the first scene, Coriolanus states,

"They have a leader, Tullus, Aufidius that will put you to't. / I sin in envying his nobility, / And were I any thing but what I am, I would wish me only he" (1.1.226-9).

Coriolanus further refers to this adversary as ". . . a lion / that I am proud to hunt" (1.1.223-4), evoking the same bestial metaphor he used to deny honor to the plebeians in order to demonstrate the great measure of this quality in Aufidius. This honor possessed by Aufidius and acknowledged by Coriolanus confers honor upon the land Aufidius serves in its gain, a fact which enables the hero to enact his patriotic redirection there. Upon approaching the place, Coriolanus states,

"My birthplace hate I, and my love's upon / This enemy town. I'll enter. If he slay me, / He does fair justice; if he give me way, / I'll do his country service" (4.5.23-6).

Conflict and Tragic Resolution

Coriolanus' vow to serve the Volsces necessitates an attack on his own country, a course of action driven by vengeance and the desire to prove his worth to his new allies. This decision places him in conflict with his own honor, symbolized by his mother, Volumnia, and his homeland. Despite shedding the title bestowed upon him by Rome, Coriolanus fails to fully reinstate his honor through his service to the Volsces. This internal conflict is evident as Cominius remarks on Coriolanus' refusal to acknowledge his former name, highlighting his sense of disconnection and identity crisis.

The conflict intensifies as Volumnia and Coriolanus' wife plead for mercy, torn between loyalty to their country and their husband's allegiance to the Volsces. Bamber observes this familial and patriotic conflict, portraying Volumnia and Coriolanus as mortal adversaries. Volumnia's plea for a compromise, aimed at sparing both herself and Rome, would require Coriolanus to betray the Volsces, an act he cannot reconcile with his newfound loyalty.

Unable to resolve the conflict between familial duty and patriotism, Coriolanus chooses death, a decision that allows for the restoration of his honor. In Elizabethan times, an honorable and fearless death was viewed as a form of redemption, a sentiment echoed by Watson. Coriolanus meets his end with dignity, embracing his fate and redeeming both his attack on Rome and his betrayal of the Volsces.

In the aftermath of Coriolanus' death, he is revered as a noble hero, even by his enemies. Aufidius acknowledges Coriolanus' noble memory, recognizing his valor and sacrifice. Similarly, Volumnia receives honor from the Romans for her defense of the state, transcending traditional gender roles to assume a masculine method of honor actualization. Young's depiction of Volumnia's portrayal by Siddons underscores the restoration of honor to both mother and son, as recognized by society and the audience.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while the outcome of "Coriolanus" is tragic for its protagonists, both Coriolanus and Volumnia emerge with their honor restored. Through their noble acceptance of the consequences of their actions, they achieve catharsis for both the audience and readers, fulfilling the Aristotelian convention of tragedy. Despite their tragic ends, they are remembered as figures of honor and valor, leaving a lasting impact on their society and the audience alike.