"Honor is the subject of my story..."

We started reading Julius Caesar yesterday in Brit Lit, and it struck me yet again just how prescient Shakespeare was about human nature, and the allure and abuse of power. We read through all of Act I and got to Act II, scene 2, and we had to stop due to the end of class. We are on the brink of the scene where the conspirators flatter Caesar into going to the Senate to meet his doom.

The monologue delivered by Brutus in his garden is particularly poignant, and the vitriolic monologue given by Cassius is chilling. Both characters understand power. Brutus sees that, at least in most cases, additional power will often corrupt otherwise good men. And the pure jealousy and hatred in Cassius is almost palpable.

Cassius is literally seducing Brutus to be the front man for his murderous enterprise; he has already convinced a few other disgruntled senators to do his bidding, but they need a "face" that people trust, a man so honorable that the extremist ideals of the group will seem reasonable, even noble, and all for the good of their country. If Cassius were to act openly, he would not be as supported as Brutus, and he is also well aware of what it takes to keep his fingers off the dirty work, at least to start. He has a plan to convince Brutus that Rome needs him, which involves writing a series of letters in disguised handwritings, and leaving them around where Brutus will find them. Brutus is to think that many citizens want him to stand up to Caesar, to act on their behalf, and save their country. Cassius doesn't even do that; he gets Cinna to distribute the letters. Cassius can claim ignorance and noninvolvement if the plan is found out. What a manipulator.

Does Cassius love his country? Or is he exacting petty revenge, knowing that he is unworthy, and not trusted? This play is a tragedy, but it's also a history play. A small group of senators, lead by an unstable, avaricious, and power-hungry man seeks to topple the government, all because they don't feel like they are getting enough of the action. They don't work for it; instead, they use violence, deceit, and lies.

Caesar falls, finally at the hands of his erstwhile friend, Brutus. Only Brutus does what he does for the good of his country-- he was duped, because he expects others to behave honorably and forthrightly, assuming that other men in his social strata can be held to the same standard he holds himself, and he alone of the conspirators really does love his country. He soon regrets his actions, of course, but that doesn't and can't change anything. Cassius even threatens his life in one memorable scene on the battlefield. Cassius has not paid his followers, he has taken far too many liberties, and Brutus holds him to account. It is a tense scene, but one in which we see that Brutus now knows that he's been used, but he has to keep going, in order to see things through. He can't just leave the situation; he must try to steer things as best he can. And of course, Brutus loses, but only after Cassius commits suicide, thinking he can't face the consequences of his actions.

And there is the comfort in this play. Ultimately, insurrection loses. 

I hope so.

C