Coriolanus in glory, Coriolanus in disaster, Coriolanus banished, followed like giant shades one after the other. Before the vision of the banished man Moore's spirit seemed to pause. He stood on the hearth of Aufidius's hall, facing the image of greatness fallen, but greater than ever in that low estate. He saw "the grim appearance," the dark face "bearing command in it," "the noble vessel with its tackle torn." With the revenge of Caius Marcius, Moore perfectly sympathized; he was not scandalized by it; and again Caroline whispered, "There I see another glimpse of brotherhood in error."
The march on Rome, the mother's supplication, the long resistance, the final yielding of bad passions to good, which ever must be the case in a nature worthy the epithet of noble, the rage of Aufidius at what he considered his ally's weakness, the death of Coriolanus, the final sorrow of his great enemy--all scenes made of condensed truth and strength--came on in succession and carried with them in their deep, fast flow the heart and mind of reader and listener.
"Now, have you felt Shakespeare?" asked Caroline, some ten minutes after her cousin had closed the book.
"I think so."
"And have you felt anything in Coriolanus like you?"

Coriolanus in glory, Coriolanus in disaster, Coriolanus banished, followed one after the other. Before the vision of the banished man Moore's spirit seemed to pause. He stood on the hearth of Aufidius's hall, seeing greatness fallen, but greater than ever in that low estate. With the revenge of Caius Marcius, Moore perfectly sympathized; and again Caroline whispered, "There I see another glimpse of brotherhood in error."
The march on Rome, the mother's supplication, the long resistance, the final yielding of bad passions to good, the death of Coriolanus and his enemy's final sorrow - all flowed on deep and fast, carrying with them the heart and mind of the reader.
"Now, have you felt anything in Coriolanus like you?" asked Caroline, after her cousin had closed the book.
