Veturia en Volumnia voor Coriolanus 1793

Editor: This is Ludwig Gottlieb Portman’s 1793 engraving, "Veturia en Volumnia voor Coriolanus," housed here at the Rijksmuseum. I find the scene so theatrical, with the looming figure of Coriolanus and the pleading women at his feet. How do you interpret this work? Curator: It's more than just a theatrical scene; it's a deeply political one. Consider the era – 1793! Portman created this against the backdrop of revolutionary fervor. The image depicts a Roman general, Coriolanus, being implored by his mother and wife to spare Rome. It’s a potent symbol of civic duty versus familial ties, wouldn’t you agree? But who benefits from his mercy? Editor: That’s a really good point. It feels like a question about who has power in the Republic. Curator: Precisely. Think about who’s missing from this engraving, or rather, kept at the margins? We see the male authority figures looming in the background but Portman directs us to Veturia, Coriolanus's mother, who orchestrates an intervention and embodies the only power available to her. Through appeals to emotion and tradition, she checks her son’s power. Editor: So, it’s less about a heroic general, and more about the constraints placed upon him – even, or especially, by women? Curator: Exactly. What does it mean when women are positioned as the arbiters of peace, as the moral compass restraining masculine aggression? Is it a celebration, or a subtle critique of the limited roles available to them in the public sphere? Who has a voice and how do they use it? What sacrifices are involved in deploying what power is available? Editor: I had not considered the implications of that power dynamic. I initially just saw the drama of the scene. Now I see something much more complex. Curator: The personal *is* political. Hopefully viewers can see this play out even in an engraving depicting a seemingly distant history.