On the Ides of March

Power, Corruption, and the Perils of Rhetoric

[Greetings, friends, from Austin! With political turmoil and economic upheaval constantly filling the news cycle and with the Ides of March (March 15th) falling on this Saturday, I felt like the time was ripe to revisit one of Shakespeare’s great plays, Julius Caesar.

To understand the play, we must first understand a little of the context in two domains: (1) the Rome where the play was set; and (2) the Elizabethan world Shakespeare was in when he wrote it.

First, a brief history of what gave rise to Caesar in Rome. In the century leading up to Caesar’s assassination in 44 B.C., the Roman Republic (which had replaced the Roman kings but never really functioned with the checks and balances as intended for more than brief periods) was fragile. Reforms around land ownership created tensions between the people, the elected leaders, and the Senate. The senators maintained a hold for a while until two generals—Marius (107 B.C.) and Sulla (88 B.C.)—carried out successive reigns of terror with the armies loyal to them and their political opponents openly slaughtered.

Then rose Pompey (who had helped Sulla supplant Marius). Yet another military superhero whose army was loyal to him rather than the Republic. Granted extraordinary power by the Senate, Pompey cleared the Mediterranean of pirates and declared himself the unofficial emperor of the eastern Roman provinces.

This set up Pompey’s rivalry with his once ally, Julius Caesar, who had slowly become one of the most powerful politicians in the Roman Republic following a string of military victories in the Gallic Wars (completed by 51 B.C.). Pompey, threatened by Caesar’s rising standing, realigned himself with the Senate, who ordered Caesar to step down from military command and return to Rome. But, Caesar refused, openly defying the Senate by crossing the Rubicon and marching on Rome with his army. This began the civil war, which saw Caesar defeat Pompey at Pharsalus in 48 B.C. and leave him with unchallenged power and influence.

The second thing we need to touch on to fully appreciate the play is the dynamics of Shakespeare’s England. Not only was the story of Julius Caesar well known in England at the time, but the themes were also alive in the politics of the day. In the 1590s, Elizabeth I was a childless monarch who had been on the throne for forty years. Without an heir to succeed her, questions around her succession began to arise—questions similar to those that sit at the heart of the play: Which form of government is better? A republic or a monarchy? Should the people of England overthrow the monarchy? If the end is “good,” what means are justified?

All of this (and more) is explored in Shakespeare’s great Julius Caesar.

So it is to that play, and its exploration of power, corruption, and the perils of rhetoric, that we devote the rest of today’s essay.]

Figure: The Death of Julius Caesar by Vincenzo Camuccini (1804)

“Beware the Ides of March.”
(William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act I Scene II)

Historical Context

The murder of Julius Caesar on March 15, 44 B.C., is one of the most memorable events in Western civilization’s history. Shakespeare is partly to blame for this—his play Julius Caesar and its warning to “beware the Ides of March” causing many, to this day, to see the middle of March as ill-fated.¹ 

But the story was popular even before Shakespeare immortalized it. People in Elizabethan England (1590s) were familiar with it because they had heard it in their education from various sources. Suetonius, Appian, Dio Cassius, Nicolaus of Damascus, and Plutarch.

It was Plutarch’s version in The Parallel Lives that Shakespeare took as his source material for the tale. (See The Life of Julius Caesar.) After summarizing Caesar’s early days and his rise through the ranks of Roman politics on the wind of his military victories, Plutarch tells the dramatic account of Caesar’s assassination:

A certain seer warned Caesar to be on his guard against a great peril on the day of the month of March which the Romans call the Ides; and when the day had come and Caesar was on his way to the senate-house, he greeted the seer with a jest and said: “Well, the Ides of March are come,” and the seer said to him softly: “Ay, they are come, but they are not gone.”

…

[A]fter taking his seat [with the Senate], Caesar continued to repulse their petitions, and, as they pressed upon him with greater importunity, began to show anger towards one and another of them, Tullius seized his toga with both hands and pulled it down from his neck. This was the signal for the assault. It was Casca who gave him the first blow with his dagger, in the neck, not a mortal wound, nor even a deep one, for which he was too much confused, as was natural at the beginning of a deed of great daring; so that Caesar turned about, grasped the knife, and held it fast. At almost the same instant both cried out, the smitten man in Latin: “Accursed Casca, what does thou?” and the smiter, in Greek, to his brother: “Brother, help!”

So the affair began, and those who were not privy to the plot were filled with consternation and horror at what was going on; they dared not fly, nor go to Caesar’s help, nay, nor even utter a word. But those who had prepared themselves for the murder bared each of them his dagger, and Caesar, hemmed in on all sides, whichever way he turned confronting blows of weapons aimed at his face and eyes, driven hither and thither like a wild beast, was entangled in the hands of all; for all had to take part in the sacrifice and taste of the slaughter. Therefore Brutus also gave him one blow in the groin. And it is said by some writers that although Caesar defended himself against the rest and darted this way and that and cried aloud, when he saw that Brutus had drawn his dagger, he pulled his toga down over his head and sank, either by chance or because pushed there by his murderers, against the pedestal on which the statue of Pompey stood. And the pedestal was drenched with his blood, so that one might have thought that Pompey himself was presiding over this vengeance upon his enemy, who now lay prostrate at his feet, quivering from a multitude of wounds. For it is said that he received twenty-three; and many of the conspirators were wounded by one another, as they struggled to plant all those blows in one body.

Caesar thus done to death, the senators, although Brutus came forward as if to say something about what had been done, would not wait to hear him, but burst out of doors and fled, thus filling the people with confusion and helpless fear, so that some of them closed their houses, while others left their counters and places of business and ran, first to the place to see what had happened, then away from the place when they had seen. Antony and Lepidus, the chief friends of Caesar, stole away and took refuge in the houses of others. But Brutus and his partisans, just as they were, still warm from the slaughter, displaying their daggers bare, went all in a body out of the senate-house and marched to the Capitol, not like fugitives, but with glad faces and full of confidence, summoning the multitude to freedom, and welcoming into their ranks the most distinguished of those who met them.²

This scene of Caesar’s assassination is reimagined around the halfway point of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, which generally follows Plutarch’s account with some dramatization fit for the theatre. The plot of the play can be summarized as follows:

As the action begins, Rome and its citizens prepare for Caesar’s triumphant return after his defeating Pompey in a civil war. The citizens, who praised Pompey not long ago, have now shifted with the wind to celebrate Caesar. Brutus, Caesar’s friend and ally, starts to fear and foresee that Caesar might become a tyrant and destroy the Republic he idolizes. Seeing how the fickle mob rallies behind Caesar, Cassius uses high-sounding rhetoric to convince Brutus to join a conspiracy to kill Caesar.

In the days leading up to the assassination, there are strange storms and events that Caesar’s wife, Calphurnia, interprets as ill omens. She urges Caesar to stay home on the day of the assassination. But conspirator, Decius Brutus, arrives and insists the omens reflect Caesar’s greatness and persuades him, instead, to go to the Senate. At the Senate, the conspirators stab Caesar (twenty-three times) to death. Brutus and the others hold their heads high, believing they have won a victory for freedom and liberty.

Against Cassius’s advice, Brutus agrees to let Antony deliver a speech at Caesar’s funeral. Brutus uses his funeral oration speech to try to reason with the people, appealing to things like honor and duty with logic. Antony follows Brutus and uses his time to turn the citizens of Rome against them.

Brutus and Cassius escape as Antony joins forces with Octavius Caesar.

Now encamped with their armies, Brutus and Cassius point fingers before agreeing to march on Antony and Octavius. In the battle that follows, Cassius, misled by false reports, persuades a slave to kill him. Then, Brutus’s army is defeated, and Brutus commits suicide by throwing himself onto a sword held by a friend. Antony praises Brutus as “the noblest Roman of them all.”

The Power and Perils of Rhetoric

At the center of Julius Caesar (which can be read here) is a war of rhetoric. Many times in the play, we see the weaponization of words and examples of how they can be used to manipulate the masses, justify controversial actions, and convince us to abandon ourselves.

It is a war fought primarily by three characters: Cassius, Brutus, and Antony (with others, like Caesar and Decius Brutus, also involved). It is fought publicly and privately, and nobody’s virtue is unassailable (except perhaps Cicero’s). Roman citizens are simultaneously shown as a fickle mob while being treated by the elites as little more than collateral damage.

To look at how the play displays rhetoric as both a weapon and a shield, we examine four scenes and four characters:

Caesar and the Fickle Roman Mob

The first real act of persuasion occurs as the play opens, and Caesar wins over the crowd. This scene exposes both the fickle nature of the masses and Caesar’s populist tendencies.

Just before Caesar takes the stage, Marullus calls out two citizens on holiday to celebrate Caesar’s defeat of Pompey, whom they had praised just days before.

O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The livelong day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.³

The scene shifts to Brutus and Cassius, who ponder their status as Caesar’s underlings while the nearby crowd roars for Caesar as he plays to the public by refusing to accept the crown offered him. Casca’s account to Brutus of how Caesar refused the crown three times is telling here.

…He put [the crown] the
third time by, and still as he refused it the rabblement
hooted and clapped their chopped hands and
threw up their sweaty nightcaps and uttered such a
deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the
crown…⁴

But Casca sees through the act as performative, Caesar refusing the crown to appease a crowd that still desired the republican ideal. For when “perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut.”⁵ He plays to the grandstands, claiming to serve the “general good” to milk the crowd’s adoration.

With this opening, we are introduced to a Roman crowd or mob that functions almost as a character itself, swaying dramatically based on the last persuasive speech they’ve heard. We’ll return to them later when discussing the funeral orations. But for now, we move on to the first private act of persuasion.

Cassius’s Seductive Rhetoric

As Brutus and Cassius talk, the crowd in the background, Cassius, a skilled verbal manipulator, draws Brutus into a conspiracy against Caesar using flattery, leading questions, and carefully crafted narratives. Cassius and the co-conspirators know that they need Brutus on their side because of his reputation. If Brutus is involved, they reason, the people will see their side as virtuous. Thus, Cassius sets his sights on Brutus, who recognizes early on he might be the target of Cassius’s seduction:

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?⁶

But Cassius nevertheless proceeds with a flattery that communicates something like “Brutus, you can’t see how great you are”:

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.⁷

After flattery comes Cassius’s attempts to highlight how Caesar is unworthy of the applause, recalling the time where Caesar would have drowned were it not for Cassius’s assistance:

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Caesar said to me “Dar’st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood
And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,
Accoutered as I was, I plungèd in
And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roared, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Caesar cried “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”
I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Caesar. And this man
Is now become a god, and Cassius is
A wretched creature and must bend his body
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.⁸

Then, Cassius reminds Brutus of his namesake, who helped establish the Republic, and how dishonorable it is to let it be trampled on—how beneath their destiny it is to be “underlings.”

Why, man, [Caesar] doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
“Brutus” and “Caesar”—what should be in that
“Caesar”?
Why should that name be sounded more than
yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,
“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,
That her wide walks encompassed but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough
When there is in it but one only man.
O, you and I have heard our fathers say
There was a Brutus once that would have brooked
Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king.⁹

It’s not initially clear whether Cassius’s words will work. Brutus says only in response that he will consider them. But Cassius’s effectiveness is evident when Brutus later admits: “Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I have not slept.”¹⁰

Decius Brutus and Private Persuasion

While Cassius demonstrates how rhetoric can gradually wear down one’s moral resistance, Decius Brutus shows how targeted persuasion can exploit a person’s ego and ambition. In Act II, Scene II, when Caesar shares his wife’s dream about his statue spouting blood (which informed his decision to stay home from the Senate that day), Decius quickly reinterprets it in a favorable light, transforming a negative omen into a positive prophecy that appeals directly to Caesar’s sense of greatness:

This dream is all amiss interpreted;
It was a vision fair and fortunate.
Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
In which so many smiling Romans bathed,
Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
Reviving blood, and that great men shall press
For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance.¹¹

When flattery isn’t enough to do the trick, Decius plays to Caesar’s ambition and deepest desire (like the Sirens in the Odyssey):

And know it now: the Senate have concluded
To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.¹²

Decius ends his three-pronged deception with shame and fear, suggesting that staying home would damage Caesar’s reputation:

If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper
’Lo, Caesar is afraid’?¹³

The effectiveness of Decius’s rhetoric is immediately apparent. Caesar completely reverses his decision, declaring:

How foolish do your fears seem now, Calphurnia!
I am ashamed I did yield to them.
Give me my robe, for I will go.¹⁴

Unlike the more famous (and public) speeches, Decius Brutus shows us how rhetoric works in private, one-on-one interactions, where the manipulation can be even more precisely tailored to exploit personal weaknesses. So continues Shakespeare’s masterclass on how rhetoric works at all levels of society.

The Funeral Orations: Reason vs. Emotion

After Caesar’s assassination, we come full circle back to the Roman crowd we opened with. Brutus has agreed to allow Antony (Caesar’s ally) to say a few words at the funeral oration. What ensues is a contrast of different rhetorical styles.

When Brutus speaks first to defend the conspiracy, his language lacks emotional energy and flower. He chooses, instead, to speak to the crowd’s reason, appealing to things like honor and liberty.

“Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen?”¹⁵ Yet the limitations of Brutus’s rhetoric and his miscalculations soon become apparent. His measured, philosophical approach fails to create lasting emotional connections with the Roman populace. As Cassius notes, Brutus is “too much of a Stoic” to truly understand how to move the masses. His rhetorical style reflects his fatal flaw—a naive idealism that underestimates the importance of emotional appeal in public persuasion.

When Antony’s turn arrives, his approach starkly contrasts Brutus. Like Caesar in the beginning of the play, Antony delivers a masterclass in emotional manipulation of the crowd, beginning with the famous line:

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.¹⁶

From there, Antony uses sophisticated techniques to win the crowd to his side: (1) his repeated use of “Brutus is an honorable man” gradually transforms from seeming respect to sarcasm and bitter irony; and (2) he focuses on Caesar’s love for Rome and personal connection to the citizens, referencing specific acts of Caesar’s generosity including the teasing of his final will (which left money to all): “He hath brought many captives home to Rome, whose ransoms did the general coffers fill.”¹⁷

The effectiveness of Antony’s approach is undeniable, as he systematically turns the crowd against the conspirators:

They were traitors! Honorable men!¹⁸

By the end of his speech, he has wholly reversed public opinion and incited a riot:

Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live!¹⁹

Consequences Unleashed

Antony’s rhetorical victory over Brutus at the funeral oration demonstrates Shakespeare’s insight into the relationship between language and power. Just as Brutus and the conspirators physically imposed their will on Caesar with daggers, Antony imposed his with words. This highlights how rhetoric is its own weapon that can unleash its own unintended consequences.

Once Antony incites the mob, he cannot fully control its actions. Almost immediately, the mob goes on to murder the innocent Cinna (the poet) simply because he has the same name as Cinna (the conspirator). This scene serves as Shakespeare’s meditation on how rhetoric, when used by those with questionable motives.

Throughout the play, we see performative words and actions down to manipulate others to their ends. Embedded in this cycle is the same warning underlying The Iliad, those who use power will have it used against them. The sickle, once pushed, always comes back around. Those who rise through persuasive language often fall by it as well. Caesar’s popularity with the crowd makes him a target; Cassius’s convincing of Brutus to lead the conspiracy allows Antony to turn the tables at the funeral oration; Antony’s incitement of the mob sets in motion events that eventually establish a new Caesar in Octavius.

Here, what Simone Weil says of The Iliad might well apply to Julius Caesar:

Force is as pitiless to the man who possesses it, or thinks he does, as it is to its victims; the second it crushes, the first it intoxicates. The truth is, nobody really possesses it.²⁰

Modern Relevance and Conclusion

Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar ultimately leaves us with more questions than answers, which is precisely its enduring power. We emerge left to wonder the same things that people have wondered for thousands of years: Who are the villains, and who are the heroes? Was Brutus right to conspire against Caesar? Was Caesar a great man or a tyrant in training? Who was right, and who was wrong? Dante Alighieri, the fourteenth-century poet mentioned often on this Substack, placed Brutus and Cassius in the deepest pit of hell for their traitorous acts. Others, like Shakespeare’s contemporary, Sir Philip Sidney, saw Caesar as a rebel threatening Rome and viewed Brutus as the wisest of Senators.

The beauty of the play is that it refuses to provide simple moral judgments, instead introducing ambiguities and causing us to contemplate how rhetoric shapes our perception. The genius of Shakespeare’s treatment lies in his demonstration that rhetoric is not always innocent; it is often a force that the self-interested use for their own gain. In the play, each character’s rhetorical approach reflects their worldview: Brutus’s logical appeals mirror his philosophical idealism; Cassius’s manipulative techniques reveal his cynical pragmatism; Antony’s emotional mastery exposes his political cunning and ambition. Yet, despite their different approaches, all participants in this rhetorical battlefield share one commonality—none can fully control what comes once their words are spoken.

Shakespeare’s warning is as relevant today as ever in an age of mass media and political polarization. Like the Roman crowd, we are forced to navigate a landscape where rhetoric is weaponized through increasingly sophisticated channels. News cycles, social media, and political discourse bombard us with emotional appeals designed not to inform but to persuade and inflame. Words are weaponized everywhere in our world by people who want you to think what they think, like what they like, buy what they want you to buy, and hate who they hate.

For modern readers, Julius Caesar serves as both a warning and a guide. It cautions us to examine the rhetorical techniques used to influence our opinions, recognize when appeals to emotion override appeals to reason, and consider the motives behind persuasive language. Shakespeare’s ambiguity about who was “right” is not a failure to take a position but a challenge to each generation to develop the critical thinking necessary to resist manipulation.

Perhaps this is the real reminder behind the warning: “Beware the Ides of March.”

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P.S. There is an interesting parallel between Caesar and Milton’s Satan at work in Julius Caesar. Brutus, when trying to convince himself that it is right to slay Caesar, says:

But ’tis a common proof
That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But, when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.
Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities.
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg,
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow
mischievous,
And kill him in the shell. (Act II, Scene I)

In these words, we see that dialogue’s dangers can also be internal. This play is not just about the perils of external rhetoric; it is also about how we can deceive ourselves. Brutus also does this when he argues that they ought to spare Antony because they are “sacrificers, but not butchers…” (Act II, Scene I).

We see a second instance where Caesar is made to remind us of Satan. Just before the assassination, Caesar himself exhibits a statement of pride and hubris that provides the nail in his coffin. If the conspirators needed any further reason to justify their extraordinary measures, it is Caesar himself who supplies it:

I could be well moved, if I were as you.
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me.
But I am constant as the Northern Star,
Of whose true fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks;
They are all fire, and every one doth shine.
But there’s but one in all doth hold his place.
So in the world: ’tis furnished well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive.
Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshaked of motion; and that I am he
Let me a little show it, even in this:
That I was constant Cimber should be banished
And constant do remain to keep him so. (Act III, Scene I)

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P.P.S. The Romans used the word “Ides” to refer to the middle of a month. Thus, the “Ides of March” meant the middle of March. The infamous warning to “beware the Ides of March” comes in this scene of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar:

CAESAR: Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue shriller than all the music. Cry “Caesar.” Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.
SOOTHSAYER: Beware the ides of March.
CAESAR: What man is that?
BRUTUS: A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
CAESAR: Set him before me. Let me see his face.
CASSIUS: Fellow, come from the throng. ⌜The Soothsayer comes forward.⌝ Look upon Caesar.
CAESAR: What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.
SOOTHSAYER: Beware the ides of March.
CAESAR: He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.²¹

1. It seems likely that Lincoln’s assassin, John Wilkes Booth (as an actor familiar with the play Julius Caesar), saw himself (at least subconsciously) as a modern-day Brutus, shouting “sic semper tyrannis” (“thus always to tyrants”) after he shot Lincoln around the Ides of April (April 14, 1865).

2. Plutarch, Life of Caesar.

3. William Shakespare, Julius Caesar (“Julius Caesar”), Act I Scene I.

4. Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II.

5. Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II. “Ope” here means “open,” and “me” adds the meaning of “for my benefit.” Casca is being sarcastic when he describes this to Brutus, pointing out that Caesar opened his jacket to stir up the crowd.

6. Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II.

7. Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II.

8. Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II.

9. Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II.

10. Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene I.

11. Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II.

12. Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II.

13. Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II.

14. Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II.

15. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene II.

16. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene II.

17. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene II.

18. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene II.

19. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene II.

20. Simone Weil, The Iliad, or The Poem of Force.

21. Julius Caesar, Act I Scene II.