Content Objectives
What We Bring to the Table
Through participation in society -- the upbringing in our home and community, engagement in civic institutions like church and public education -- we form values based on our experiences as well as the traditions and customs of our culture. If a value judgment is defined as our own personal opinion about how good or bad something is, a moral principle may be understood to be a bit wider in scope. Typically, a culture shares a moral code that, for the most part, one must subscribe to in order to be deemed “right” or “good” by that culture’s standards.
Moral relativism is a perspective on ethical theory positing that there are deep and widespread moral disagreements across different societies or cultures, rather than the view that that there is one authoritative and universal moral outlook that is better than others. According to this second view, for any moment of choice there is one “right” thing to do, one course of action that is “good,” because there is a set of objective criteria for evaluating the rightness of an action. Even if “moral facts” are not universally accepted, the argument goes, they do exist.2
Interpreting literature as a moral objectivist would mean that, when evaluating the choices of characters, we should be able to determine clearly which choice is right and which is wrong. In the mind of a moral relativist, we may be able to recognize right and wrong within the moral standards of a particular culture, but not in a universal sense.
Moral relativism also recognizes multiple sets of moral standards existing within a larger culture or society -- essentially that there are moral sub-groups.3 I may participate in American culture and therefore have a set of morals that align with American ideals, but I may also participate in a subculture in which some of the moral standards might differ from those of other subcultures within American society.
I think the idea of subgroups within a culture carries an immense amount of relevance to the way we conduct discussion about literature within a classroom. If I stand in front of the room and lecture about the ethics of Julius Caesar to my students and ask them to accept my ideas as correct, in a way I’m imposing my own set of moral standards on them. In a more open-ended discussion, I may not be imposing my own moral standards, but there could potentially be a “clash” of moral standards between students to the extent that they subscribe to their own subgroup’s unique sets of moral standards.
When we read, we also participate in a process of moral justification -- that is, seeking affirmation of the moral standards that we believe are right. This justifying process can be conducted against the grain of our own beliefs (we seek to find support for choices we are morally wary of) or more neutrally (we try to justify multiple and mutually contradictory principles).
Though I think the idea of what a “moral position” is, arising from the relativist assumption that there is more than one worthy position, is the correct outlook, it still isn’t feasible to attempt to define the morals of a particular culture and then use those as defined to analyze this play. I think that would be an impossible task. I want to invite students to consider what they believe their own personal values to be and how much those values align with the moral code of a larger group -- and whether the groups they encounter within the classroom may differ in moral standards from the group they associate with. The idea would be to compare their own values with the values they find in the play, albeit with the understanding that they may not fully grasp those values.
It is possible that, when reading a text, students might seek specific evidence to support the moral choice they have made while ignoring (purposefully) or overlooking (subconsciously) evidence that may support an opposite moral standard. In her book The Moral of the Story: Literature, Values and American Education, Susan Reneck Parr notices a recent shift in her students’ values, specifically that they now seem to maintain “morally apathetic, now-oriented” and generally individualistic sets of moral views. Though I don’t particularly agree with her stance (and she was writing about K-12 and college students in the late 1970s, so her assertions may now be inaccurate), her argument that “preconceptions shape not only my students’ interpretive response to the course material but, on an even more basic level, what material they consciously attend to” does seem right.4
Considering our moral beliefs allows us to make decisions between things that are selfish and things that benefit the culture or world at large. This question is ultimately at the center of Julius Caesar -- Brutus needs to decide whether to preserve Caesar’s life and therefore his leadership of Rome (self-interested, preserving friendship and protecting Caesar’s life for that reason) against the benefit to a larger community (the people of the Roman Empire). Though Brutus may deem his choice right based on his moral code (or Roman ideals), we should entertain the possibility that the other option may seem just as right to someone with a different set of moral standards. Most importantly, as readers we should not ignore evidence that might support either side because of our own moral bias.
Analysis of Julius Caesar
To give students a purposeful, directed encounter with their own moral standards and the way that evidence in the text either supports or subverts those standards, I think it is useful to focus on guiding questions that ask us, as simply as possible, to consider what our values incline us to think about a particular situation in the play. As we consider what we might do in response to a situation, we can analyze the character’s decision, characteristics and motivations against our own values.
In Julius Caesar, some of the general ideas relevant to the story include friendship, love, power, fairness, judgment and justice, theories of governance, the uses of persuasion, and honor, to name a few. Unfortunately, this doesn’t exactly narrow it down. I will frame my analysis of the play around a few of the major characters (Caesar, Brutus, Cassius) against the larger “moral dilemma” question: at what point does loyalty expire? Investigating beliefs around loyalty can open us up to more specific questions about how we are loyal to friends and ideas.
This analysis should serve to indicate possible alternative interpretations but not provide an exhaustive or “definitive” outlook on the play. Hopefully, however, these questions will be of interest to students and could be used in inquiry-based discussions and other classroom activities. My “answers” to these questions will allow us to see the way that we judge character against our own moral standards. Drawing on the example from the introduction, my moral dilemma may have been “is it okay to point out my friend’s faults?” - my answer will most likely color my judgment of Brutus and Cassius.
At what point does loyalty expire?
Curiously enough, the word “loyalty” does not occur in the play; it is hard to dispute that the idea doesn’t underlie most of the decisions made by the characters. Brutus considers whether he should be loyal to his friend Caesar or to Rome; Caesar considers whether he should be loyal to the people of Rome (or, I suppose, the idea of a republican system) or himself and accept the crown. Cassius and Brutus both deliberate between loyalty to their cause and ending their own lives as the play draws to a close. We question to whom Antony is loyal as he manipulates Brutus and the conspirators: Is this really loyalty to Caesar? Identifying our own beliefs about loyalty will allow us to discuss various aspects of the play.
Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines the word “loyal” as “having or showing complete and constant support for someone or something.” Synonyms specify types of loyalty as allegiance to one’s lawful or sovereign government; remaining faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due; or fidelity to a cause, ideal or custom.5
Act I scene one is our first encounter with loyalty - among the mechanicals, Carpenter and Cobbler, and the tribunes, Flavius and Murellus. The mechanicals are on their way to “make holiday to see Caesar and rejoice in his triumph,” (I,i,31-32) incurring the anger of Flavius and Murellus, who are appalled by the commoners’ lack of loyalty to the former ruler of Rome, Pompey. Immediately as readers we are forced to consider our ideas of loyalty -- should these men celebrate Caesar, or does that constitute a betrayal of Pompey?
This celebration in the street, and the tribunes’ anger over the commoners quick flip to allegiance with Caesar, forces us to begin to judge Caesar’s character. Though he used to be allied with Pompey, he later defeated him in battle. The celebration itself “comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood” (I,i,52). A few lines later, Flavius describes Caesar as one who “would fly above the view of men/ And keep us all in servile fearfulness” (I,i,75) if he is not brought down to an “ordinary pitch.” Before scene one ends, we are already asked to contend with our beliefs and begin to make a judgment of Caesar.
To judge Caesar around the idea of loyalty, we will have to consider our beliefs about being loyal to those who have power over us. At what point do we shed our loyalty to a leader? When he puts us in danger? When he abuses his power in general? When he loses a battle? When he betrays our trust in some way? Students’ answers before reading the play will influence the way they manipulate evidence in making a judgment about Caesar and, consequently, their decision about whether his murder was justified.
Almost all of the evidence we get about Caesar’s character comes from the mouths of other characters. Though some of Cassius’ description of Caesar relates to him as an “official,” or, how he behaves in his office, some of it deals with his personality in general. As he begins to convince Brutus of “the problem with Caesar,” he relates two stories -- one of a swimming adventure in the Tiber river and another of Caesar fainting when he was in Spain. In the former situation, he relates his story using the lofty language of heroes -- Caesar dared him to leap into the “angry flood;” they “did buffet it/with lusty sinews, throwing [the current] aside/ And stemming it with hearts of controversy.” The only negative word he uses to describe Caesar in this account is “tired.” His second story describes Caesar as a god who “did shake,” with “coward lips” losing their color and that he lost his “luster,” and he whined like a “sick girl.” In both accounts, Cassius focuses on his physical deficiencies. He uses this evidence to judge that Caesar has no claim to the god-like status he seems to have achieved in Rome. If we believe that we should remain loyal to leaders who are strong and do not request the help of others, this might be evidence we would use to argue that Caesar was not fit for his office and had somehow unfairly claimed something he didn’t deserve. That being said, Caesar demonstrates in these stories an almost dangerous courage (he was the one who wanted to jump in the river in the first place) and a willingness to ask for help when he needed it. It isn’t actually so straightforward that these stories demonstrate something negative about Caesar (I,ii,90-130).
When Cassius refers to Caesar aside from these stories, he tends to use words that refer to Caesar in the abstract - he is a god, immortal, “as free as” Brutus and Cassius, a Colossus, great, and has ambition. Caesar’s ambition is presented to the reader, by Cassius and Brutus, as potentially the main justification for the assassination. This prompts us as readers to decide whether we will remain loyal to someone whose ambition may become troublesome (and, honestly, to decide at what point that happens).
Most of Brutus’ judgments of Caesar center around his ambition – not necessarily to suggest that he himself is more ambitious than anyone else, but that any man treated like a demigod has the potential to abuse his office. In fact, he asks himself in the first scene of Act II: “He would be crowned:/ How that might change his nature, there’s the question” (12-13). Though we may judge that Caesar is ambitious, Brutus seems to say that he doesn’t think he is at that moment. He is more wary of the hypothetical ambition Caesar might embody when he is handed power and the system of government in Rome changes to an absolute monarchy (II,I,10-34).
We, as readers, are asked (through Brutus) to judge Caesar on his potential. If we side morally with Brutus -- that the crown inherently makes men more ambitious and power hungry than they were previously--we begin to assume that Caesar will become that way despite evidence earlier in the play that might contradict it. Brutus uses metaphors -- it is “the bright day that brings forth the adder” (II,i,14) and “think him as a serpent’s egg,/ Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous,/ And kill him in the shell” (II,i,32-34)--that seem to contradict his former assertion that his nature would change. One could read Brutus’ choice of metaphors to indicate that there is something already in Caesar’s nature that makes him dangerous. The adder didn’t become bad by going out in the sun; the serpent was a nascent danger in the egg.
The reasoning Brutus presents can be taken in two ways -- that he thinks there is something inherent to the throne that would cause a man to abuse power or that he thinks that tendency is already innate in Caesar and the throne would bring it out in him. Does that matter? Are we reading in too much detail, or is there a chance that our preconceived ideas about loyalty to our friends might color the way we look at those lines? We might be more comfortable with Brutus’ decision to betray Caesar if we believe that monarchy in itself brings out some kind of dangerous ambition that is inherent in all men. We may be less comfortable if we see Brutus trying to rationalize his wariness of Caesar when he actually might just believe he is a bad guy.
Of course, there are other points that will complicate our interpretation of Brutus. He ostensibly provides the level-headedness and dignity of sentiment that elevates the conspirators’ moral position; he insists that the faction “be sacrificers, not butchers” (II,i,166) and spare Antony; he insists that they kill Caesar “boldly, but not wrathfully” (II,i,172) and urges that they eschew an oath because it would make it seem like they weren’t really dedicated to their cause. “What need we any spur but our own cause/ To prick us to redress” (II,i,123-4) These lines can show that Brutus provides a voice of integrity, reinforcing his earlier contention that he was not conspiring against Caesar for personal reasons but for the general good. Excessive zeal for blood or wavering commitment might show that they might not actually trust him (or, might prove to Brutus that he doesn’t really trust himself).
One could also read a sort of aggressiveness in Brutus toward the group, specifically against Cassius. When Cassius suggests killing Antony, Brutus immediately opposes this idea. Even though his response is admirably reasoned (though wholly mistaken, as Antony ends up being a very real threat to the conspirators), we can see from it that Brutus has come into the group of conspirators and immediately taken over. He does the same when Cassius suggests the oath. Brutus has already begun to assume the leadership role in the group and asserts his power, power that will be echoed later (though he doesn’t respond to or claim that power) when the plebeians cry, “Let him be Caesar” and “Caesar’s better parts/ Shall be crowned in Brutus” (III,ii,45-50). (His countrymen seem to demand, and we may have seen glimpses of, the same ambition in Brutus that he feared so much in Caesar.)
Brutus takes great pains to convince us that he is acting in the general interest of his country and not because of a personal vendetta against Caesar himself, or even because Caesar is a bad person. But does that make him “honorable”? Can we excuse or even laud his choice to rid Rome of Caesar because he is doing it for the good of the people? If we agree that his choice is morally okay but only because of its purity of motive, are we then forced to view Cassius in a different light?
Cassius immediately bears his heart on his sleeve. He begins his persuasion of Brutus to join the cause by asking him why he is so upset:
Brutus, I do observe you now of late.
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have.
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you… (I,I,32-36)
Cassius establishes that (as I mentioned in the introduction) he expects constant devoted attention from his friend in order to feel that their friendship is genuine. If Brutus is acting cold and “ceremonious” as he says later in Act IV, then he must no longer love him. He later laments that Caesar never loved him as much as he loved Brutus. Cassius launches into his argument against Caesar first by flattering Brutus, a move that seems to be the type of flattery that Brutus bemoans in Act IV as well. Cassius believes that friends should show each other how wonderful they are and demonstrate “shows of love” that confirm the friendship.
The “fight scene” between Brutus and Cassius in Act IV on the face of it seems to be two leaders arguing over the particulars of their newfound leadership: is it permissible to take bribes? Should there be some “nobility” in their fundraising efforts, and how should money be exchanged between them? But the quarrel is really about friendship. Cassius has, in a way, what he wants -- he and Brutus are alone together and, now that Caesar is gone, Brutus can love him the most. But he doesn’t, and Cassius goes as far as to request that Brutus kill him:
If thou beest a Roman take it forth.
I that denied thee gold will give my heart.
Strike as thou didst at Caesar. For I know
When thou didst hate him worst thou loved’st him better
Than ever thou loved’st Cassius…(IV,iii,103-7)
Cassius seems to want Brutus to do the same thing to him that he did to Caesar as a way of “emulating” that love. If Brutus would kill him for his faults, maybe he would get that much closer to being as deeply loved as Caesar was. Simultaneously he admits that he knows that wouldn’t even make it true.
We can then infer that while Cassius wanted a similar outcome - ridding Rome of a potentially tyrannical monarch -- his motive is slightly different. Brutus seems to rationalize his choice with the selflessness of his motive, so does Cassius’ less selfless motive force us to judge him differently?
When it comes to judging motive, Antony doesn’t seem to differentiate between Cassius and Brutus. He considers them “butchers” and admonishes himself for being so kind to them, even if it is to serve his purpose of revenge for Caesar (III,i,254-5). He goes on to lament the loss of Caesar, the “noblest man/ To ever live the tide of times” (III,I,256-7). It is clear that emotion has overtaken him, though he keeps a level head long enough to cleverly flee before he is killed as well and convinces Brutus and the conspirators that he will be on their side if they can demonstrate to him why Caesar was dangerous.
Fast forward to the end of the play. Antony stands – victorious – over Brutus’ dead body and declares him “the noblest Roman of them all.” Is he being genuine here, even though he sarcastically called Brutus “honorable” in his funeral speech? Has something changed in Antony to allow him to see Brutus differently? He goes on to differentiate – just as Brutus had earlier, when he convinced himself to join the conspiracy – between the motivations of the other conspirators and those of Brutus. Brutus is different because he did what he did “in a general honest thought/ And common good to all” (V.v.71-2).
The baffling thing about Antony’s comment is that we don’t see him given occasion to change his mind about Brutus. We see very little of Antony after his funeral speech; his main later appearance features his discussion with Octavius and Lepidus about whom to kill (and, coldly, he dismisses Lepidus’ worth as soon as he exits the stage) (IV.i.1-47). We see him again in Act V, fighting Brutus and Cassius, when he calls them “villains” (V.i.38).
Depending on the way you define loyalty, this sudden change in sentiment could lead to different judgments about Antony. Is this change in his opinion of Brutus a betrayal of Antony’s loyalty to Caesar or a reasonable growth in Antony’s character? Depending on our interpretation of Brutus’ motives (do we really think he is noble or did he betray his friend?) we might think that Antony is the hero for killing him and getting some kind of justice for Caesar or the villain for slaying such a noble Roman.
Though he is off stage for most of the play aside from the third act, he is the major engine of the resolution of the conflict: he rouses Rome to war and then slays the conspirators. We are asked to judge Antony primarily through his public speech after Caesar’s death and his behavior toward Brutus and Cassius immediately before his speech. This makes him especially difficult to judge. Is he portraying his true self through this behavior and his oration, or is he manipulating us as well as Brutus, Cassius and the Roman people?
After Caesar’s death, Antony sends his servant to proclaim to Brutus that he is “noble, wise, valiant and honest” (III.i.126). He returns and sets out to convince the conspirators that he will be loyal to them and absolutely not try to avenge Caesar’s death. But as soon as Brutus and Cassius leave, Antony reveals his true feelings:
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood.
Over thy wounds do I now prophesy –
Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue –
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men.
Antony makes it clear here that he wants revenge. But he does not clarify his attitude toward Brutus. If you come to read this and Antony’s speech on the supposition that by avenging Caesar’s death he must also have some level of animosity for Brutus, you might presume Antony’s motives to arise from passion and personal feeling rather than from a lofty political principle. We can ask the same questions about Antony’s motives that we already have about those of Brutus and Cassius.
Though Antony declares his love for Caesar, he also declares his love for Brutus twice – through his servant (III,i,129) and directly to the conspirators when he asks why they killed Caesar (III,i,220). Antony also declares his respect for Brutus’ devotion to the general good (in his closing lines), but acts, at times, much like the too-powerful tyrant that would threaten the general good he cares so much about, as when he leads an army against Brutus and Cassius and argues with Octavius about who will be killed and who will share in the spoils of victory.
If Cassius is the lover whose motives are personal and Brutus the citizen whose motives are public, then Antony lies somewhere in between. In Act 4, Octavius Caesar closes scene one by saying:
Let us do so, for we are at the stake
And bayed about with many enemies,
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear,
Millions of mischiefs (IV,I,48-52).
Octavius speaks here about the duplicity of people – the tendency to seem something on the outside that one is actually not on the inside. While Cassius and Brutus do struggle with their decisions and exhibit the complexities of realistic, human characters, they are typically pretty consistent (as far as we can tell). Cassius cares only about personal loyalty; Brutus is consistent in placing his love for country above his love for Caesar. Antony is much more difficult to pin down. As a result, he may be the most human of them all.
Almost every story we read has a clear “hero”: although this person may not be perfect in any sense of the word, or arguably not even “good,” we know that we are supposed to root for them. They are the one who should win and, frankly, the more imperfect they are the more we want them to win because then we know that we ourselves could win yet be imperfect, too. But in Julius Caesar, it is next to impossible to clearly identify the hero. The beliefs that students bring to the table will color their interpretations and, ultimately, make it challenging to arrive at a clear choice.
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