Means And Ends

October 4, 1990
Musings 1991

“This was the noblest Roman of them all.” So spoke Marc Antony at the body of Brutus, who had killed himself after his army was defeated at Philippi by the forces of Antony and Octavian. These words of Shakespeare strengthened the view of Plutarch, whose 1st century biography made Brutus much more a hero than assassin. Shakespeare relied heavily on Plutarch for the plot and character development of the masterful tragedy, “Julius Caesar.”

The noblest Roman of them all? Brutus was a principal plotter, along with Cassius, of the assassination. Plutarch reported that Julius Caesar was suspicious of Brutus as well as Cassius and included Brutus in the remark, “lean and hungry look; such men are dangerous.” Shakespeare omitted Brutus, confining the suspicion of Julius Caesar to Cassius alone.

Brutus’ [action] was a possible parricide. Plutarch writes that stories circulated that Brutus was the son of Julius Caesar. Brutus’ mother, Servilia, and Caesar had been deeply in love about the time Brutus was born. Thus, “et tu, Brute” in the play might have reflected the agony of Caesar that his own son should be among those stabbing him. Historians doubt this as Plutarch may not always have separated gossip from fact.

Brutus made a serious political mistake when he spared Antony’s life when Cassius wanted to kill Antony, too, immediately after assassination of Caesar. Brutus:

“For Antony is but a limb of Caesar.
Let us be sacrificers, not butchers, Cassius.”

This act of mercy gave Antony the opportunity for the famous funeral oration with its masterful use of incremental sarcasm that turned the Roman populace against Brutus and Cassius.

Brutus made a fatal military mistake when
he persuaded Cassius to attack at Philippi: (In
Shakespeare’s powerful words)

“There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyages of their lives
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.”

Cassius, who had advocated a delaying action, hoping Antony’s and Octavian’s armies would wear out in pursuit, gave in. He yielded to Brutus. But the tide came in for Antony and Octavian. Cassius and Brutus committed suicide when defeat was obvious.

In the foregoing summary, Brutus does not seem like the “noblest Roman of them all”, does he? But there is more to be said of Brutus.

Brutus had a powerful motive to oppose Caesar’s wearing a kingly crown. Perhaps Caesar felt Brutus to be his son. But it is doubtful that Brutus shared that belief. Brutus was descended from Junius Brutus, the brave liberator who, centuries before, expelled the Tarquins, destroyed their monarchy and set the stage for the Roman Republic. Brutus received letters at the statue of Junius Brutus, “O that Brutus was alive,” and similar taunts, urging him to don the mantle and grasp the sword to stop the ambitions of Caesar to become Monarch. Brutus embraced that obligation.

Brutus was educated; had learned philosophy in Greece. Caesar had been influential in making Brutus Governor of Cisalpine Gaul, where he had built a reputation for wise government, good deeds, honor and integrity. Such repute was a contrast to Cassius, his brother-in-law. Cassius had meaner motives, mainly acquiring personal wealth. After the assassination, he is urging extorting money from nobles and plebs alike. Brutus protests strongly: (Act IV Sc. iii)

“... What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man in the world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours
For such trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.”

When Brutus spoke over Caesar's body, he said: (Act III Sc. ii) “Not that I loved Caesar less, but I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him, but as he was ambitious, I slew him....”

Plutarch summarizes, (.1204, Dryden translation) “And that which gained Brutus the greatest affection and reputation was the entire faith of his intentions.”

His enemy, Antony, over Brutus’ body, (In Shakespeare's majestic words)

“This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
He only, in a general-honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, ‘This was a man!’”

That was a magnificent curtain speech. But there are questions still to be asked; issues that need to be resolved.

Does the end justify the means? That age-old ethical dilemma did not begin or end with Brutus. Brutus, Cassius, Casca and the others murdered Caesar because they feared he would accept the crown, be a monarch over them. Caesar refused the crown three times, but the plotters, in their anxiety, believed he would have but for Julius having an epileptic spasm. The dread of a monarchy justified the illegal, immoral murder. Did it?

The news and commentaries in these weeks of September and October, 1990, have been laced with speculation that the best way to end the Iraq-Kuwait crisis and avert war is to assassinate Saddam Hussein. The end: peace in the Middle East would justify the means, assassination.

But would it? Who can say with any certainty that 100 million Moslems would accept an assassination planned or at least approved by a Western (Judeo-Christian) Power? The consequences might also be, (in Antony’s words) “Cry Havoc; and loose the dogs of war.”

History reminds us that the means used by Brutus and Cassius brought about the very consequences they had plotted to avoid. Julius Caesar was assassinated; Brutus and Cassius lost in war to Antony and Octavian (Caesar’s nephew); later, Antony, dissipated and besotted with Cleopatra, lost to Octavian in the famous naval battle of Actium; Antony and Cleopatra were suicides; Octavian became Caesar Augustus, beginning the succession of Roman Emperors. With the probable exception of the Antonines, this chain of Caesars was a grievous part of history for centuries.

So the ages have a tip for us – be careful of means used to accomplish ends, however glorious these ends seem to be. Means can corrupt; means can debase the ends. Too often, the consequences are a disastrous surprise.