The Classics Reclassified

Richard Armour

THE CLASSICS RECLASSIFIED
In which certain famous books are not so much digested as indigested, together with mercifully brief biographies of their authors, a few unnecessary footnotes, and questions which it might be helpful not to answer.

Julius Caesar

The opening scene is in Rome: A Street. A Street is presumably just north of B Street. It is a holiday, the feast of Lupercalia. This, according to a footnote, was an ancient festival of purification and fertility (an unbeatable combination), when men clad only in goatskins raced around slapping women with goat-hide thongs until they were purified and fertile, or at least black-and-blue. Anyhow, the common people, including a few old goats, are out celebrating the return to Rome of Julius Caesar, who has conquered Pompey.*

Flavius and Marullus, two tribunes who are not so enthusiastic about Caesar, tell the crowds to stop milling around and blocking traffic. Cant they find some better way of spending their day off, such as watching the lions crunch Christians at the Colosseum, or shouting ribald remarks at the Vestal Virgins?

What trade art thou? Marullus asks a cobbler.

A mender of bad soles, the fellow quips, and Marullus and Flavius are infuriated. Not only is it a bad joke, but they have heard it before.

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! Marullus says to the crowd of commoners, and, considering the passive way they take such epithets, he may be right.

What annoys Flavius is the fact that somebody has draped scarves over a whole row of statues, in honor of Caesar. Disrobe the images! he shouts, being a lover of nudes and fearing a wave or Puritanism.

Caesar enters, and a soothsayer tries to warn him of something. Beware the ides of March, the fellow says, but Caesar is unperturbed. The reference is obviously to March 15, which back then was Income Tax Day. Why should he worry? He doesnt pay taxes, he collects them.

Caesar then leaves briefly, so that he will not hear two of his followers, Cassius and Brutus, while they talk about him. Cassius tells Brutus that Caesar is getting to big for his toga.

We petty men walk under his huge legs, and peep about, says Cassius, crouching low in an amusing bit of pantomime. Then he adds, Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, that he grown so great? It is probably something that affects the pituitary gland. Cassius, with his lean and hungry look, is jealous.

Caesar now pops in again, staying only long enough to express his distrust of Cassius. He thinks too much, he confides to his friend Mark Antony who, not guilty of excessive cerebration, is safe to have around.

Caesar has also picked up the odd idea, perhaps from some ill-informed oracle, that skinny men are dangerous, and this is another reason why he distrusts Cassius. Let me have men about me that are fat, he says. He has in mind roly-poly, good natured fellows like Falstaff and Hermann Goering.

Caesar, who at this point seems to have little more than a walk-on part, exits again.

That night, as Cassius and the other conspirator plot against Caesar, there is thunder and lightning, lions walk around in the street, and men go about on fire. These are portents of something, such as unseasonable weather, carelessness on the part of the zoo keeper, or a dangerous increase in incendiarism.

Cassius has no difficulty winning most persons over to his plan to do away with Caesoar, but he has to work subtly with Brutus, who is not the sort to murder a close friend without an excuse. The technique Cassius uses is to throw messages through Brutuss window all night. On of these reads: Brutus, though sleepst: awake and see thyself. Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress.

The message puzzles Brutus. In the first place, how could he possibly sleep with those cylinder of parchment whizzing in through the window every few minutes? Also the &c. is ominous, suggesting more than it says. The one thing clear to him is redress, so he gets up and dons his business toga.

Cassius and the other, disguised to look like Roman conspirators, drop in a dawn. After a night of being peppered with incomprehensible messages, and now receiving guests at dawn, Brutus in a mood for murder.

Caesar must bleed for it! he declares. But Brutus is one who thinks that if a job is worth doing at all it is worth doing well. So he cautions the rest of the gang, who are toying with their daggers, Lets carve him a s a dish fit for the gods, not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds. Warming to the task, he thinks of picking up some paper frills at the butcher shop.

Meanwhile Caesar has had almost as hard a night as Brutus. His wife Calpurnia, who talks in her sleep, has been yelling Help! Ho! They murder Caesar! until his nerves are shot. He arises and paces around, thinking of taking drastic action, such as making his wife sleep in another bedroom.

Calpurnia, seeing him standing by the door in his nightgown, which looks for all the world like a toga, thinks he is about to leave for the Capitol, where he must deal with matters of import.** She is unstrung. What a ghastly night, she thinks, even for Rome. The lion that was wandering about downtown has whelped right in the middle of the street, graves had yawned (it was late), and there had been a light drizzle of blood, something not forecast by the weatherman. Calpurnia is not exactly superstitious, but she thinks Caesar should take off his laurel wreath and sandals, relax on the marble sofa, and spend the day looking at his bust collection.***

*Who was soon after assassinated. See The Last Days of Pompey.

**And export as well. The Roman Empire was big business.

***The busts are all of himself, but he rather enjoys the monotony.

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Questions on Julius Caesar

1. In Shakespeares plays have you noticed how soothsayers always say the sooth, the whole sooth, and nothing but the sooth?
2. Have you a lean and hungry friend who thinks too much? If so, he is probably thinking about food.
3. If a lion in the street seems ominous, think of one on the sidewalk.
4. When the conspirators stop at Caesars house at 8 A.M. and invite him to go to the Capitol with them, could it be because he belongs to the chariot pool?
5. Isnt it a pity that Calpurnia, having warned Caesar not to go out on the ides of March, never has a chance to say to him, I told you so?