And is not a State larger than an Individual? --Plato
In Allan Bloom’s essay “The Morality of the Pagan Hero: Julius Caesar,” Bloom writes, “Julius Caesar is the story of a man who became a god. Beyond his merely human achievements—the destruction of the Republic and the establishment of a universal monarchy—he was worshiped as a divinity, as were many who inherited his name” (75). Julius Caesar has a major problem, for characters within William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, struggle with ideas concerning unchecked rule, or demigod like power bequeathed upon a single individual. In his book Shakespeare’s Tragic Sequence, Kenneth Muir writes, “It has been argued that an Elizabethan audience would know the way to distinguish a good ruler from a tyrant; and since Caesar surrounds himself with flatterers and yes-men, and rules by caprice rather than by reason, they would certainly have regarded him as a tyrant” (44).
Of the “flatterers,” Caius Cassius represents a man who appeals to Marcus Brutus with the following logic: are we a nation of laws, or a nation of men, for which is higher—Caesar, or Rome? Marcus Brutus, a venerable Captain America for Roman law, appeals to intellect, the higher order, or older positions of Rome, and as author James P. Driscoll writes, is a man who “[...] believes his motivation lies in devotion to the common good” (46). This is representative in Brutus remarking, “If it be aught toward the general good, / Set honor in one eye and death i’ th’ other” (1.2.87-88).
Of the non-conspirators, Marc Antony, like John Milton’s Satan, wants to be king of the mountain, for Antony represents a man who is willing to wear the mask; who offers the appearance of a just man, or as Plato writes, is willing to “[…] by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier tower which may be a fortress to me all my days” (Republic II 314). In many respects, Antony is the most frightening character in the play, for he pretends to be what he’s not—for no one, not even us the reader know who he truly is.
Thus, Julius Caesar is very much a play about politics and human psychology. Through the lens of Plato’s Republic, an early treatise on political science, Plato deals with similar questions of justice that align itself to Shakespeare’s key characters’ (Caesar, Cassius, Brutus, and Antony), for the two works act as complimentary bookends in their asking of the fundamental question—what makes a just man?
When we meet Caesar, appearance plays a pivotal role, for we see an individual that is (figuratively) three feet taller than everyone else, for when Caesar speaks, all sound must cease, as Casca remarks, “Bid every noise be still” (1.2.16), and when the Soothsayer is called on to converse with him, he must, in a biblical and subordinate way, “look upon Caesar” (1.2.23). In The Philosophy of Shakespeare, K. J. Spalding offers, “Shakespeare conceived of a man whose practical wisdom had by its sole might combined and sustained the far-flung fabric of a universal empire. A man above ‘an ordinary pitch’ (1.1.78) . . . [for] Caesar possessed the distinctive character of Plato’s ‘Philosopher-King’” (93). Plato’s conception of the Philosopher King appears in Book V, and extends in many forms throughout the rest of The Republic. Plato writes, “Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy . . . cities will never have rest from their evils” (369). Caesar, as Rome’s savior, views himself as a philosopher: a “lover” or “pursuer” of truth and “wisdom,” and one who commands authority through his “advanced learning” (OED). Moments before his death, we see characteristics of Plato’s “Philosopher-King” embodied in Caesar, for he looks upon himself as an individual that transcends flesh, earth, and quite literally the universe. Caesar remarks:
But I am constant as the Northern Star,
Of whose true fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks;
They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
But there’s but one in all doth hold his place
[…] That unassailable holds on his,
Unshaken of motion; and that I am he. (3.1.60-70)
In Caesar’s mind, he alone posses the ability to remain, as Shakespeare suggests through the symbolism of the Northern Star—the Roman Empires guide, never failing, never faltering—constant. In G. C. Field’s The Philosophy of Plato, Fields writes:
It is quite clear that Plato believed that the supreme rulers must be not merely of a philosophical temperament, but trained metaphysicians with a grasp of the ultimate nature of reality. They must be able to think in terms of the perfect Forms, the real ideals . . . they have to understand the empirical facts of the situation and guide their policy. (56)
Or, as author Bruce R. Smith comments, “As Plato would put it, ideals present a state of being, realities a state of becoming” (67). Thus, the rational part of Caesar’s soul must rule according to his definition of a philosopher—for Caesar’s soul has become (as helped by his conquest over Pompey, and the support of the hungry masses who shout accolades at him), the carrier of truth, and in Caesar’s mind, he represents a just soul.
However, in Richard Norman’s book The Moral Philosophers: An Introduction to Ethics, Norman would add that there is a discrepancy in Plato’s idea of Forms. Norman writes, “[…] Plato also has other reasons for emphasizing the separateness of the forms […] Justice itself cannot be equated with the sum of individual just persons and societies, because none of these are ever fully and perfectly just. Even the best of them [like Caesar] fall short of the ideal in some respect” (32). Plato believed that the ideal could never be reached in the real world, for Plato views the world as flawed. Thus, the only way we can reach perfection—is to think, or imagine the ideal—but we can never attain it.
For example, a carpenter can envision the perfect chair, but when he goes to make it—the chair reveals flaws: the inner wood possesses unseen termites. This is where Shakespeare comes in, for Caesar made the mistake in thinking himself as the ideal, for Caesar doesn’t live in the transcendent world, or ideal world; Caesar lives in reality—and in reality, the world and he are flawed: Caesar has enemies (Cassius whom he fears, and fears he shouldn’t posses), his body suffers seizures, but most importantly—he is mortal, for Caesar remarks, “Seeing that death, a necessary end, / Will come when it will come” (2.2.36-37).
In Book V of The Republic Plato writes of the division between “rulers” (i.e. masters) and “subjects” (i.e. servants) (363). Plato writes:
“Did you ever know an example in any other State of a ruler who would speak of one of his colleagues as his friend and another as not being his friend?”
“Yes, very often.”
“And the friend he regards and describes as one in whom he has an interest, and the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest?”
“Exactly.”
“But would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as a stranger?”
“Certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded by them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or daughter, or as a child of parent of those who are thus connected with him.” (364)
Thus, using the model of a family, there can be no division amongst family members—for they are all part of the same unit, the same structure that makes up a family. This applies well to Shakespeare’s play, for Caesar views himself as a separate entity within the Republic (family) of Rome. Caesar sees Caius Cassius as a threat to his current position and remarks, “Let me have men about me that are fat, / Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep anights. / Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look. / He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous” (1.2.193-96). Caesar views Cassius as a stranger, one who is not a part of the family, but more importantly, his family. Caesar expresses utter contempt for Cassius—for he sees him for what he truly is—that of a reflection of himself. Caesar remarks, “[…] He reads much, / He is a great observer, and he looks / Quite through the deeds of men […] Such men as he be never at heart’s ease / Whiles they behold a greater than themselves” (1.2.202-210).
In Ruth Leila Anderson’s book, Elizabethan Psychology and Shakespeare’s Plays, Anderson writes that “Caesar is right in fearing the ‘spare Cassius’” [1.2.202], and writes, “According to Elizabethan science, the qualities which make the body lean dispose one to think. The choleric, we have found, are tall and lean, men who are easily provoked, given to treachery, vehement in action, envious, proud and wrathful” (41). Cassius has choleric bile and his disposition as a philosopher (thinker) frightens Caesar for he sees himself—within Cassius.
However, fear acts as a double edged sword within the play, for Caesar’s out of control, demigod like stature amongst Rome’s population enrages the conspirators. In Book II of Plato’s Republic, Plato writes, “I will show that all men who practice justice do so against their will, of necessity, but not as a good” (311). This is Marcus Brutus, for early in the play, Brutus is wary of Caesars ever growing power remarking, “. . . Vexed I am / Of late with passions of some difference” (1.2.41-42), and then with, “What means this shouting? I do fear the people / Choose Caesar for their king” (1.2.81-82). Brutus is an individual who sees the old laws of Rome dissolving within Caesar, for Brutus, in hearing the crowd’s tumultuous shouts, fears that the Republic—is becoming a Republic in name only.
In Matthew N. Proser’s book The Heroic Image in Five Shakespearean Tragedies, Proser notes the fear of Caesar’s new found stature as a hazard to the conspirators, commenting, “Caesar’s attempts at self-glorification are distasteful whatever the reason; they are even threatening” (18). Brutus doesn’t dislike Caesar personally in the private sphere, but as a fellow General, he recognizes the threat Caesar brings to the Republic, the public sphere, for Brutus remarks, “It must be by his death. And for my part / I know no personal cause to spurn at him, / But for the general. He would be crowned. / How that might change his nature, there’s the question” (2.1.10-13). This coalesces well with Plato’s discussions concerning the “ordered” and “ill-ordered” State, for Plato writes, “[…] in a State which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered State injustice: and having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the happier” (IV.342). Brutus has his eye on the whole, for Rome’s political foundation has been a Republic for centuries, and now it’s threatened through the impending people’s adoption of an emperor—a ruler of one.
Cassius sees an opening within Brutus’ mind, for when Brutus “love[s]” the name of “honor more than death,” (1.2.90-91), Cassius uses the opportunity to show how “feeble” Caesar is, but more importantly, how feeble or ill-ordered the State has become, remarking, “[…] ’Tis true, this god did shake. / His coward lips did from their color fly; […] Ye gods, it doth amaze me / A man of such feeble temper should / So get the start of the majestic world, / And bear the palm alone!” (1.2.123-33). Cassius is alluding, that there can be no justice in a man who moves, speaks, and is looked upon like a God, or “[…] bestride[s] the narrow world / Like a Colossus, and we petty men / Walk under his huge legs, and peep about / To find ourselves dishonorable graves” (1.2.136-39). Thus, as Anderson points out, “Envy and pride lead Cassius to form a conspiracy against Caesar” (41), for Caesar has over stepped his bounds.
What makes a nation is law and order, and Caesar’s actions are threatening the whole concept of it. The fact that Cassius has to go to great lengths to manipulate Brutus in such a way that Brutus manipulates himself—shows how good Brutus is, so Cassius exploits Brutus’ honorable quality, and deceives him into thinking that killing Caesar—is the greater good.
In his book Shakespeare’s Pagan World: The Roman Tragedies, J. L. Simmons writes, […] Brutus destroys the representative of one impossible ideal for the sake of another. Caesar’s ideal requires the perfection of one man; Brutus requires the perfection of all” (94). Brutus doesn’t want to kill Caesar—but now he has to, for he fears the Republic will be lost, for “ambition that bred tyranny in other men might breed it in Caesar too” (Spalding 96). However, Brutus is duped, for Caesar’s assignation causes civil war—for in Plato’s view of the real world, one which possesses flaws, nothing goes according to plan when an ideal is adopted.
In addition, in Book VI Plato writes, “And we have next to consider the corruptions of the philosophic nature […] we will speak of the imitators of philosophy, what manner of men they who aspire after a profession which is above them and of which they are unworthy” (377). Brutus, through the help of Cassius, has manipulated himself in thinking he should wear the crown, for as Cassius reminds him, “Why should that name be sounded more than yours? / Write them together: yours is as fair a name […] Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods […] There was a Brutus once that would have brooked / Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome / As easily as a king” (1.2.144-62). Cassius just wants a loftier seat, for in his wooing of Brutus individual rights, Brutus manipulates himself into thinking that he has hereditary rights, through blood and lineage, over Caesar. Bloom writes, […] the heroes are faced with Roman problems. They understand themselves to be acting as Roman citizens; what they must be and do is determined by the laws of Rome” (79). Brutus always wants to do the right thing, and through his constant, repetitive reasoning for the act of murdering Caesar, he has convinced himself that he is acting in an honorable fashion. We note this in Brutus’ speech to the throngs of plebeians. A speech littered with logos (reason) and ethos (moral character), Brutus replies:
I say that Brutus’ love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more […] The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol, his glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy, nor his offenses enforced for which he suffered death. (3.2.19-39)
Thus, Brutus endows himself with Cassius’ own logic: are we a nation of laws, or are we a nation of men, for which is higher—Caesar, or Rome? This is where Marc Antony enters the equation.
In Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince, Machiavelli stresses the importance of “appearance” in honoring ones word remarking, “He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, kind, guileless, and devout […] but his disposition should be such that, if he needs to be the opposite, he knows how […] and so he should have a flexible disposition, varying as fortune and circumstances dictate” (100-101). Marc Antony, like Dante’s Satan, wears multiple faces in the play, for when he speaks to the conspirators he offers the face of an actor, for Antony replies, “O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? / Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, / Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well” (3.1.149-51). Antony is offering the appearance of alliance, for as Plato writes in Book I, “In what sort of actions is the just man most able to do his friends good? In making alliances with them” (305). Antony is one of the play’s ultimate imitators, for Antony is an individual who wants to sit at the top of the Roman Empire, and in his pursuit, pretends to go along with the conspirators—he offers the appearance. Antony recognizes the difference between Plato’s conception of the real and ideal world, and thus, is willing to wear the mask.
When Brutus and Antony speak to the plebeians in Act III Scene II, they both have corrupted the “philosophic nature” of philosophy. Plato writes:
When they meet together, and the world sits down at assembly . . . and there is a great uproar, and they praise some things which are being said or done, and blame other things, equally exaggerating both, shouting and clapping their hands, and the echo of the rocks redoubles the sound of the praise or blame—at such a time will not a young man’s heart, as they say, leap within him? Will any private training enable him to stand firm against the overwhelming flood of popular opinion? Or, will he be carried away by the stream? Will he not have the notions of good and evil which the public in general have—he will do as they do, and as they are, such will he be? (377-78)
After Brutus’ speech, praise and blame hit the rafters in this scene, for the plebeians shout, “Live, Brutus, live, live!” (3.2.47), “Caesar’s better parts / Shall be crowned in Brutus!” (3.2.51-52), “This Caesar was a tyrant” (3.2.68), and “Nay, that’s certain. / We are blessed that Rome is rid of him” (3.2.69-70). In Brutus’ appeal to the plebeians with logic, Antony uses a different tactic—raw emotion, pathos. Antony enters, “bearing Caesars body in a coffin” (1321), and through Plato’s comment above, uses reverse psychology as his ultimate technique in his want to buy the peoples love—their collective popular opinion. In his speech, Antony tears Brutus’ honorable quality down through repetition. Antony repeats, the phrase, “[…] Brutus is an honorable man” (3.2.82), four times, leaving his name (a name connected to honor), out in the fourth. Through Antony’s repetition of the words, they begin to carry less weight, less importance, for they become nonsensical—and ultimately, dishonorable.
Further, Antony offers the appearance of a tortured soul, one who is not ambitious, for a plebeian remarks, “Marked ye his words? He would not take the crown, / Therefore ’tis certain he was not ambitious” (3.2.112-13). Antony is using the same tactic Caesar used in the play’s opening, for Caesar, in his refusal of the crown, did this to gain greater popular opinion. Thus Antony makes himself look good, by making himself look bad—for he, as Plato commented above, knows the notions of good and evil which the public possess. We mark this when Antony replies, “I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. / I am no orator as Brutus is” (3.2.210-11). Thus, Antony bases his appearance, his justness, not in the ideal, but in reality—for in reality, emotion, passion, pathos, is sometimes stronger than reason—than even logos.
In the end, Shakespeare’s play and Plato’s Republic, coalesce well with one another, for characters within the play struggle with ideas concerning justice, but more importantly—the just individual. Plato found the idea of democracy problematic, for Field’s writes, “A democracy is essentially aimless. The dominance of this merely negative purpose means that there is no recognized person . . . for setting the direction of the whole community” (67). Thus, Julius Caesar is very much a play about politics and human psychology, for the two works act as complimentary bookends in their asking of the fundamental question—what makes a just man?
Works Cited
Anderson, Ruth Leila. Elizabethan Psychology and Shakespeare’s Plays. New York: Russell & Russell, 1966.
Bloom, Allan. “The Morality of the Pagan Hero.” Shakespeare’s Politics. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1964. 75-112.
Driscoll, James P. Identity in Shakespearean Drama. London: Bucknell UP, 1983.
Field, G. C. The Philosophy of Plato. 2nd ed. London: Oxford UP, 1969.
Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Prince. New York: Penguin Books, 1986.
Muir, Kenneth. Shakespeare’s Tragic Sequence. New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 1979.
Norman, Richard. The Moral Philosophers: An Introduction to Ethics. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983.
Orgel, Stephen and A. R. Braunmuller, ed. William Shakespeare: The Complete Works. New York: Penguin Books, 2002.
“philosopher, n.” The Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 1989. OED Online. Oxford UP. 2 May. 2010
Plato. The Dialogues of Plato. Trans. Benjamin Jowett. Ed. Robert Maynard Hutchins. Great Books of the Western World. Ser. 7. Chicago: William Benton, 1952.
Proser, Matthew N. The heroic image in Five Shakespearean Tragedies. New Jersey: Princeton UP, 1965.
Simmons, J.L. Shakespeare’s Pagan World: The Roman Tragedies. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1973.
Smith, Bruce R. Shakespeare and Masculinity. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000.
Spalding, K. J. The Philosophy of Shakespeare: Oxford: George Ronald,1953.
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