Julius Caesar Act 4.1

This scene reveals more of the crucial developments in the aftermath of Caesar’s death, and most notably the development of Antony’s character (hints of which were given in 3.2). 4.1 opens with the triumvirate of Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus, a triumvirate that will eventually take power, and that Shakespeare explores again in Antony and Cleopatra. The opening is furhter significant because they are discussing which of their enemies should be marked down for death, and these enemies include relatives. Clearly Roman politics is a cut-throat business! The only slightly redeeming feature is that all three apparently have to agree. When Lepidus is dispatched quickly on an errand, much else becomes clear as Antony now dominates the scene, not only by what he says but by the sheer length of his speeches. After Lepidus’s exit, Octavius speaks only nine lines. Foremost is Antony’s essential disgust with and dismissal of Lepidus, “a slight unmeritable man” good only “to be sent on errands.” Antony also believes Lepidus does not warrant being part of the triumvirate. In his brief speeches Octavius attempts to argue Lepidus’s worth–“he’s a tried and valiant soldier”–but the brevity of his remarks alone show how weak they are. The only slightly curious aspect to Antony’s remarks is the fact that he does spend so much time in pointing out Lepidus’s weaknesses, etc. The answer may lie in Shakespeare’s desire to expand upon Antony’s ruthlessness and to illustrate his control of the situation. On the latter point, Antony already knows “Brutus and Cassius / Are levying powers” and proposes a line of action to meet their threat.

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Julius Caesar Act 3.3

3.3

At first glance this might sem a curious, inconsequential scene, leaving reader and viewer alike wondering why Shakespeare bothered to write it. However, it serves both a dramatic and thematic purpose. Dramatically, it provides a contrast with the preceding and following scenes in that the focus moves from the chief characters to far lesser ones. 3.3 is also very brief, again a sharp contrast with the lengthier scenes on either side of it, thus providing the audience with something of a breathing space. And yet 3.3 also turns out to be a violent scene, ending with the death of Cinna the Poet who is murdered by the rabble. On that score the event provides a thematic link with the politics of the play by showing the mindless behaviour of the Plebians after being aroused by Antony’s political speech (remember his line on “Mischief” doing its work in 3.2). Significant too is Cinna’s opening speech which touches on luck, fate, and chance–he does not know why he has been drawn to that particular place. The fatalist would have it that he’s there to meet his appointed/fated end. The other point about Cinna is that he is mistaken for Cinna the conspirator, even though he tells the rabble he is Cinna the Poet. Again, the rabble’s refusal to believe him points out their mindlessness, added to which there is the irony of one plebeian declaring that the “occupation” is irrelevant so long as they murder a Cinna. What’s in a name? Shades of Romeo and Juliet and the balcony scene.

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Julius Caesar Act 3.2

This scene demonstrates the power of rhetoric in both politics and in the theatre. It is also a demonstration of the power of staging. It begins with Brutus’ straightforward address to the plebeians (and it might be worth remembering how they were involved in the very opening scene of the play. Further, Shakespeare makes very interesting and somewhat similar use of the plebs in Coriolanus, a topic for another day). Not only is Brutus’ address straightforward, but it is in prose: “Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.” Hardly a stirring beginning. When Antony begins his address (with lines that almost anyone can recite from memory!), Shakespeare puts almost the same words into his mouth, but the effect is far more powerful:
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The power lies simply in the rhythm of the lines (and the placement of the commas give an excellent indication of that). Other key features of his speech are his use of repeated words (e.g. “honourable”–and when the same word is repeated differing inflection can give differing meaning) and the use of rhetoric questions. Moreover, Shakespeare has further loaded the dice in Antony’s favour. After his speech, Brutus leaves the stage, giving Antony a clear field–not a politic move. To boot, Antony enters with a powerful prop–Caesar’s dead and bloody body. Another prop is Caesar’s will and the “reading” thereof, which Antony milks for all it is worth in getting the plebs on his side. A excellent example comes after the will business when Antony reverts to the use of a negative to assert a positive: “Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up / To such a sudden flood of mutiny.” All this is quite deliberate on Antony’s part: “Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, / Take thou what course thou wilt” (261-62)–an interesting character revelation. One final point on the role of the plebeians (apart from the ease with which they are manipulated in this political process): Antony dominates the scene from line 65 on, and speaks the majority of the lines. Thus the plebeians interjections serve to break up what otherwise would be a very long monologue.

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Julius Caesar Act 3.1.147-297

It’s at this point in the tragedy that Antony emerges from his cocoon and becomes a central figure in the drama. Note how this is signaled by the number of lines he is given to speak, and it is through rhetoric that he attempts to control events. He seems genuinely moved by Caesar’s death (after all he was his protege), and his first words are addressed to Caesar’s body. However, his observation that “I shall not find myself so apt to die” maybe no more than a rhetorical ploy. The point is worth pondering as this can determine how Antony is to be performed. The honest Brutus responds as one might expect–“O Antony, beg not your death of us.” He goes on to justify their actions as necessary for the general well being of Rome and its citizens; there is no reason to doubt him. What is an excellent piece of theatre (and probably meant to be so by Antony) is Antony’s request to shake each assassin’s bloody hand, naming each man as he does so. He shows more self-awareness (and this is a pointer as to his character) when he declares that the murderers must now think him “either a coward or a flatterer” for “making his peace” with them. What’s crucial here is Antony slipping into the third-person self-observing mode (“To see Antony making his peace”) rather than the first-person. (There’s not space here to analyze this speech fully, but it does reward such an analysis.) All becomes clear as Antony reveals that he wants to know fully the reasons “why and wherein Caesar was dangerous” and that he wants to give a funeral oration in the market place. Honest Brutus agrees readily, though the wilier Cassius perceives the danger. Brutus thinks he will be able to control the event, and lays out the terms under which Antony will be allowed to speak–herein lies a fatal flaw. The final sub-scene (beginning line 254) provides a retrospective on Antony’s earlier behavior since it is now obvious how much he has been afflicted and affected by Caesar’s death–his soliloquy beginning “O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth” and in which he vows, in very bloody language, that he will indeed avenge Caesar’s death and “let slip the dogs of war.”

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Julius Caesar Act 3.1.95-146

This sub-scene follows the assassination, and is prefaced significantly with Cassius’ question “Where is Antony?”–a clear signal of where future interest lies and introduces the dynamic between Brutus and Antony. Noteworthy too is Trebonius’ brief description of of the disorder Caesars death has caused–Antony is “amazed,” while other people “stare, cry out, and run, / As it were doomsday.” Much in little. Brutus indulges in self-justification in his pronouncement that in killing Caesar they have removed the number of years that Caesar (alive) would have feared death: “So are we Caesar’s friends, that have abridged / His time of fearing death.” Such a cynical notion would or should make even the most hardened politician blench. It’s followed immediately by the assassins bathing ritualistically in Caesar’s blood, all the while proclaiming “Peace, freedom, and liberty!” The impact on stage is obviously much greater than mere reading can give it; it is a truly highly visual moment. What is worth considering too is that Shakespeare chooses this moment to introduce a sense of metatheatricality:

Cassius:        How many ages hence
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
Brutus: How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport [in plays]

The audience is thus reminded that it is an audience, and that these are actors, and that this is all a fiction. Yet it is also a re-enactment of history, of murder, of assassination, of people bathing their hands in blood. Thus, perhaps, the emphasis on fiction also serves to emphasise the reality (a notion needing much further elaboration).

That moment over, a Servant brings a suitably ambiguous message from Antony (note the parallelisms in the phrasings) that essentially asks for safe passage and a meeting. The crucial feature of the parallels is the repeated juxtapositioning of Caesar and Brutus (and all that that entails).

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Julius Caesar Act 3.1.1-95

Appropriately Caesar’s assassination scene lies at the centre of the play. However, many would now point out that the title of the tragedy is named for Caesar, so it is rather odd that he should now disappear from the play. The answer, perhaps, is that Caesar’s physical death occurs in this scene; his presence, in one form or another, continues since he represents an idea. Perhaps the play is more about the office that is filled by a person, and how that person should fill the office. Indeed, it might be instructive to compare the thoughts and attitudes of the main characters in the play and thus grasp how the same office can be perceived in different ways.

Caesar opens the scene with a flourish, with ceremony, surrounded by a crowd of people. He is front and centre, brushing aside warnings from the Soothsayer and dealing similarly with the petition from Artemidous. Clearly he sees himself as Caesar, as in control, the man who can do as he pleases. Also interesting, from the stage picture point of view, is the dynamic rearranging of the various participants, including Mark Antony being drawn away by one of the conspirators. An audience who has never seen the play before and would does not know the outcome (is there such an entity?) should become immersed in, intrigued by these occurrences. Perhaps even a knowledgeable might be interested?

The murder is prefaced by a revealing incident as Caesar has asked: “What is now amiss / That Caesar and his Senate must redress?” Metellus Cimber thus presents his petition, a petition Caesar has rejected previously. What Caesar says is, of course, revealing. On one side he declares he is not interested in “Low-crookèd curtsies, and base spaniel fawing,” the animal image here indicating that Caesar is correct in his behaviour (the imagery is continued in following lines). Further he declares “Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause / Will he be satisfied,” which carries a mixed message since he combines an absolute concept with a more rational one. However, by line 60 he has moved to “I am constant as the Northern Star” which implies the sort of absoluteness that’s combined with a sense of self-righteousness–that he can never do any wrong. The reaction is this (although it has been planned anyway, of course) is his assassination.

Seeing the murder might influence an audience in two ways (or more). Visually, several men attack one defenceless man, which shifts sympathy to the man murdered. On the other hand, Cinna declares immediately “Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!” an emotive combination of words that raises all kinds of issues about how government (or similar institutions or whatever) should be changed (see, for examples, Aristotle’s debate in The Republic). Note too that in the following lines the word “mutiny” occurs (86) while Brutus says the assassins and they alone  should take full collective responsibility (94-95).

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Julius Caesar Act 2.4

Artemidorus’ final line in the previous scene was designed to elicit sympathy for Caesar, and that same sense is carried over in 2.4 which, however, shifts the emphasis to Brutus’s wife, Portia, and her concern for her husband. This maybe a stereotypical response-the association of wife and sympathy–but it nevertheless works (in this regard it is worth pondering Portia’s aside in lines 6-9 that provide a measure of self-analysis/insight). The boy Lucius works in similar fashion. Portia is so concerned about Brutus that she initially omits giving the boy a message to carry to her husband. The message itself concerns Brutus’s health, and (ominously)  “what suitors press to him [Caesar].” The passing Soothsayer (the scene is set outside Brutus’s house) serves to increase the ominous tension as he answers Portia’s additional questions (NB: as with 2.3, parts of this scene provide swift information). Portia is concerned whether “any harm’s intended towards him [Caesar],” which leads the Soothsayer to point out how the narrow street permits people to throng about Caesar and how all kinds of people “will crowd a feeble man almost to death.” One question is how the actress portraying Portia will play this scene, particularly the degree to which she may verge on hysteria, and what that effect might have. There are certainly signs that she is only in borderline control of herself–not giving the boy a real message, and her “Oh, I grow faint” at the conclusion of the scene. That “Oh, I grow faint” is a firm Shakespearean indication, and is tantamount to a built-in stage direction.

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Julius Caesar Act 2.3

This is a short but economical scene; some might say it is undramatic, but it serves a useful purpose. The brief action hinges around the use of Artemidorus’ letter to Caesar, warning him to beware of the several plotters against his life. The quizzical might wonder how Artemidorus knows of the plot, but in the theatre the action passes swiftly enough that perhaps only the fully alert will realize this point. (In fact, Artemidorus is a historical figure, and knew about the plot because he knew some of the conspirators, and doubtless Shakespeare picked this up in his source.) Additionally, dramatists of all stripes (even the redoubtable Bernard Shaw who generally deprecated the use) use letters as a means to further the action/plot (one of Shakespeare’s notable uses occurs in Romeo and Juliet, with concomitant dire consequences). Shakespeare does flesh out Artemidorus’ scene a little. After having him read his letter out loud (otherwise the audience would not know its content!!), Artemidorus provides a snippet of commentary favourable to Caesar: “My heart laments that virtue cannot live / Out of the teeth of emulation.” Moreover, he ends the scene with the suitably ominous lines: :If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; / If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.” (NB: Fate, traitors, connivance–all aspects of murderous plots.)

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Julius Caesar 2.2

Caesar made his last appearance in 1.2, and his absence reveals almost as much about his importance as does his presence; for although he has been absent, Caesar and his role and function in Rome etc has been very much to the forefront of what has transpired in the interim. Moreover, the very fact that his assassination has been debated and plotted also reveals how important he is. Once on stage, Caesar is associated immediately with the ongoing storm and the chaotic turbulence it embodies and symbolizes. In addition, as a suitable omen, Caesar reports that his wife, Calphurnia, has been dreaming and has cried out “They murder Caesar.” To reinforce the point, Calphurnia appears and recounts her fears for Caesar’s life (she also reports other accounts of “most horrid sights seen by the watch,” etc recalling similar accounts earlier, in Act 1). Caesar, demonstrating both his bravery and stubbornness, insists “Caesar shall go forth,” and speaks one of the play’s famous adages: “Cowards die many times before their deaths; / The valiant never taste of death but once. / Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, / It seems to me most strange that men should fear, / Seeing that death, a necessary end, / Will come when it will come.” (A stoicism that finds echoes in Hamlet.) However, superstition now plays a (temporary role) with news from the augurers (that they could not find a heart within an animal) and Calphurnia’s insistence that “Your wisdom is consumed in confidence!” Caesar changes his mind swiftly, declaring he will not go to the Senate House. Cue plot manipulation, with the arrival of Decius, one of the conspirators, who manages to convince Caesar that the dreams have been misinterpreted, and casts a favorable interpretation on them. The icing on the cake, as well as Caesar’s ego, is Decius’ news that “The Senate have concluded / To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.” The final thirty or so lines of the scene form a visual irony as the now reinvigorated and confident Caesar is surrounded (unbeknownst to him) by the conspirators (he calls them friends) come to lead him to the Senate. The final two lines consist of a brief aside from the still somewhat troubled Brutus who also remarks “That every like is not the same,” a reminder of the appearance versus reality theme (since everything that can be labeled “like” is not actually identically the same, or exactly alike).

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Julius Caesar 2.1.310-334

Although short, this sub-scene has some interest in it if only because it possesses vague biblical undertones. The knock at the door came from one of the conspirators, Caius Ligarius, and it is immediately clear that he is ill–as the faithful servant Lucius announces him as such. Brutus chastises him a little for being sick, in almost homely terms–“O, what a time you chose out, brave Caius, / To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick.” (Obviously Romans also heeded their mothers’ advice to wrap up warmly when ill.)  However, Caius reveals the almost miraculous power of being in the presence of the honourable, noble Brutus, and throws off the kerchief–shades of Christ healing the sick and raising the dead (however, Caius phrases it in slightly more oblique language: “Thou like an exorcist has conjured up / My mortifièd spirit. Now bid me run, / And I will strive with things impossible.”) The effect of this is to cast an honourable, almost righteous air to Brutus and the conspirators as a whole as Caius becomes disciple-like: “And with a heart new-fired I follow you, / To do I know not what; but it sufficeth / That Brutus leads me on.”

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