The title of Shakespeare’s tragedy is misleading, in that “Julius Caesar” shows us much more about Antony and the friend who betrays Caesar, Brutus, than it does about the legendary leader of Rome.

Brutus: “There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
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” (IV. III).

The title of Shakespeare’s tragedy is misleading, in that Julius Caesar shows us much more about Antony and the friend who betrays Caesar, Brutus, than it does about the legendary leader of Rome. Tested by war and separated by mistrust, these three compatriots have a long history that knots them together in the fabric of Rome. The conspiracy to kill Caesar required the people’s esteem of Brutus for legitimacy. So the first public words of Brutus at the funeral would prove crucial in explaining Caesar’s death. He overrules other conspirators to grant Mark Antony permission to follow him as a speaker and he vastly underestimates Antony’s sense of purpose and his command of the podium. With these two decisions, Brutus changes the arc of both of their lives. Only later does Brutus recognize that the tide he missed on the day he killed Caesar would determine the voyage of his own life, as well as many other lives, soon to be engulfed in a raging flood of blood. By the time he recognizes this tide, it is long gone.

When Mark Antony first sees the bloodied body of Caesar lying crumpled at the feet of the statue of Pompey, he barely contains his composure before the conspirators. By taking each of their hands, sticky with blood, and affirming each of them as friends, he appears to affirm their deed. Only after they have left, does he speak truly, addressing Caesar’s corpse.

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever livèd in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy —
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue —
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men.
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy (III.I).

With these words, Antony prophesies civil war that will soon engulf Italy as the terrible penance for Caesar’s murder. He gives voice to Caesar’s stab wounds as “dumb mouths [that] do ope their ruby lips.” Of these eloquent wounds he will soon speak again.

When Antony wants to speak at the Caesar’s funeral, it seems a natural enough request from Caesar’s lieutenant and Brutus agrees immediately. But Cassius has concerns, pulling Brutus aside to warn him: “You know not what you do: do not consent/ that Antony speak in his funeral:/ Know you how much the people may be moved/By that which he will utter?” (III. I) Brutus brushes the warning aside, saying he will take the podium first to explain their reasons for taking Caesar’s life and make it clear that Antony only speaks with their permission. He so vastly underestimates Antony’s power with rhetoric that he claims, “It shall advantage more than do us wrong” (III.I). His only instructions to Antony are to “not in your funeral speech blame us, /But speak all good you can devise of Caesar” (III.I). Antony will follow these instructions to the letter, but with a skillful reversal of meaning Brutus did not anticipate.

When Brutus addresses the crowd, he steps up with the air of an important man accustomed to being honored.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be
silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour, and have
respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me in
your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the
better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of
Caesar’s, to him I say that Brutus’ love to Caesar was no less than
his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar,
this is my answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved
Rome more. (III.2)

In his opening salvo, Brutus asserts that his honor makes him credible and that they should therefore respect his judgment. His was an old and highly esteemed family, stemming from the hero who killed the last of the Tarquin kings. Brutus was born wearing a mantle of honor, which had become his identity, and this made him indispensable to the conspirators’ plans. In urging the crowd to use their wisdom to judge, he means exactly the opposite, since he is about to tell them what to think. He claims that no one in the crowd could have loved Caesar more than he did. Then why did he kill him? It was “not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.” This splendid turn of phrase has the tone of patriotic justification. But is it? Listen to what he says next.

Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all
slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? (III.2)

This appears to be a rhetorical question, but it is based on fallacious logic. He does not explain how Caesar would have made them slaves, had he lived, nor does he explain how Caesar’s death makes them free.

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.
There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his
valour, and death for his ambition (III.2).

Now Brutus appears to show a flash of his compassion, but the tears are for Caesar loving him. Rejoicing for Caesar’s good fortune and honoring him for his valor ring hollow, when followed by the admission that he killed him. Brutus still has not given any evidence of Caesar’s ambition nor has he explained why it warrants death. After a series of rhetorical questions confirm that he has offended no one, Brutus concludes:

I depart: that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I
have the same dagger for myself when it shall please my country
to need my death (III.2).

It’s a throwaway line as Brutus leaves, blithely comparing himself to the great Caesar, while seeming to offer his life for his country.

As a speech, these words of Brutus are not particularly moving. But his actions have already spoken far more eloquently. By deciding to join the conspirators, he makes a decision that continues the war against Caesar. Brutus had been pardoned for his part in it, but his resentment never died. When he plunges his dagger into Caesar’s body, he joins the conspirators to block Caesar’s ambitions, while fostering their own. When he decides to let Mark Antony live, rather than killing him along with Caesar, he ignores the advice of others, standing on his honor. We are not “butchers,” he claims, as they all ready their knives for Caesar. But the final action that will undo Brutus is letting Antony speak at the funeral, despite the objections of Cassius. If he thought he could control Caesar’s lieutenant like a dog without a master, he was mistaken.

Once Mark Antony sees the mutilated body of Caesar and shakes the bloodied hands of the men who killed him, resolve began to coalesce within him to avenge the death of this man he cherished. Bearing Caesar’s body in a coffin to the Capitol, Antony burns with a white-hot fury. When he ascends the podium to speak at the funeral, he wields words like Raphael wields a paintbrush. He complies with Brutus’ terms by praising Caesar, while never overtly placing blame on the men who killed him.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interrèd with their bones.
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest—
For Brutus is an honourable man,
So are they all, all honourable men—
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral. (III.2)

Antony seems to comply perfectly by acknowledging that Brutus is an honorable man, underscoring his honor with that of the other men. He places Brutus’ claim of Caesar’s ambition only slightly in question with the subjunctive, “if it were so, it was a grievous fault.” Being ambitious is the accusation, and Caesar has been judged, found guilty, and sentenced to death. The people should accept this conflation of judge and jury because Brutus is an “honorable man” and they should trust his judgment, as he has already told them.

Antony then calls the accusation of ambition into question, by offering evidence that contradicts the judgment Brutus has rendered. He merely poses questions, answering them with the refrain, “But Brutus is an honorable man.” But now the repetition, rather than underscoring his honor, begins to call it into question.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me.
But Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill.
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honourable man (III.2).

With each example of Caesar’s deeds that benefited Rome, his magnanimity and his care for the poor, Antony shows the benefits of Caesar’s so-called ambition. Chipping away at the accusation, Antony sets the honor of Brutus against the evidence, and with each stroke, the claim of Caesar’s ambition weakens, along with the honor of Brutus.

You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know. (III.2)

Now it gets personal. Antony himself had offered the crown to Caesar three times, and he had publicly rejected it, to the cheers of crowds watching him. The people hearing this funeral oration had probably seen Caesar do this. Thrice rejecting the crown seems to refute the accusation of Caesar’s ambition. Despite that evidence, Brutus stands on his honor to justify executing Caesar for his ambition. Antony cleverly claims, “I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,” when he has just done so. And then Antony makes a masterful play for the affections of the crowd with balletic precision.

You all did love him once, not without cause.
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason! [He weeps] Bear with me.
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me. (III.2.)

Antony pivots his direction, moving from the rational part of his speech to a dance choreographed to enthrall their emotions.

This is a classical dance pattern in effective rhetoric. Establish one’s credentials, make the argument using reason, then engage the emotions, and close with a call to action. Antony has already established his credentials –his permission to speak there with the approval of Brutus. He takes the accusations made against Caesar and lays them at the feet of the “honorable Brutus.” He makes a rational argument introducing evidence to refute the claim of ambition, but each time as a question. He elicits emotions as he asks them to recall their love for Caesar and urges them to mourn. He shows them how, as he weeps dramatically himself. When he sobs “my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,” his act proves to be contagious. The dramatic timing is perfect, with a pause just long enough to let emotions billow, while Antony can overhear their reactions.

First Plebian: Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.
Fourth Plebian: If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar has had great wrong.
Third Plebian: Has he not, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.
Fifth Plebian: Marked ye his words? He would not take the crown, Therefore ’tis certain he was not ambitious.
First Plebian: If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
Fourth Plebian: Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping.
Third Plebian: There’s not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

Hearing himself described as the noblest man in Rome, Antony knows he has won the crowd. Now he will move them into action against the perpetrators by saying the opposite of what he means.

O masters, if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men.
I will not do them wrong. I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.

Here he puts the possibility of mutiny and rage into their heads, while denying it. Now he winds the Plebians up in a masterpiece of manipulation, flashing the will but taking it away. He then pivots to redirect their attention.

But here’s a parchment with the seal of Caesar.
I found it in his closet. ’Tis his will.
Let but the commons hear this testament—
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read—
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar’s wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue.

Antony urges the people to venerate Caesar like a relic of a saint, with “sacred blood” flowing for them. Take a bit of him as a legacy, hair, or blood on cloth, he urges them, and treat this relic with utmost care, not only for yourself, but your children and generations to come. Antony has canonized Caesar right before their eyes and offers this saint to Rome’s posterity.

The Plebians break in chanting, “The will, the will! We will hear Caesar’s will.” But Antony is the master of this choreography and he knows to wait.

Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it.
It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
’Tis good you know not that you are his heirs,
For if you should, O what would come of it?

By putting them off, the expectation grows even more intense, while Antony claims the opposite of his true meaning. He plants the idea that they will become inflamed upon hearing the will, which will soon become a fulfilled prophecy. More Plebians beg him to read it, which he puts off, somewhat weakly.

I have o’ershot myself to tell you of it.
I fear I wrong the honourable men
Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar; I do fear it.

At this point the tenor of the crowd has changed completely, as they refute his reference to the “honorable men,” shouting “They were traitors. Honorable men? They were villains, murderers!”

As the mob calls for him to read the will, he leads them skillfully exactly where he wants them to be. “You will compel me then to read the will?” He is now clearly in control when he can tell them what to do: “Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, /And let me show you him that made the will.” He feigns needing their permission to descend among them. Like a fisherman, he has hooked them, but now he is releasing the line just a bit to let them swim, before he will yank the line to reel them in. Antony points to the gashes made by conspirators, pointing them out and naming them, one by one. “Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through./ See what a rent the envious Casca made.” Then Antony directs their eyes to a particularly large and bloody gash. “Through this the well-belovèd Brutus stabbed;/ And as he plucked his cursèd steel away, /Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it” gushing out to soak his cloak.

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar’s angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms,
Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart,
And in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey’s statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Here Antony uses powerful means to evoke pathos. The path of the knife, gushing blood, and the fatal wound of betrayal are described with such passion and conviction that no one who heard these words could prevent being overcome with grief. The people weep unabashedly.

Doubling down the pain with shock, Antony rips the cloak away to uncover Caesar’s bloodied body. The Plebians cry out: “O piteous spectacle! O noble Caesar! O woeful day! O traitors, villains!” “O most bloody sight! We will be revenged. Revenge! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live!” As Antony quiets the crowd, one Plebian shouts, “We’ll hear him, we’ll follow him, we’ll die with him!” Antony manages not only to turn the crowd to his favor, but to incite the people to take revenge on the traitors, while posing as a peaceful, plain man.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are honourable.
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it. They are wise and honourable,
And will no doubt with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.

But that is disingenuous, because that is exactly what he wants to do. And in fact, he has already done it. But Antony doesn’t stop there. He goes on to speak humbly, claiming to be a plain-spoken man.

I am no orator as Brutus is,
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men’s blood. I only speak right on.

This is a prideful humility. In truth, Antony is saying the opposite of what he means. Antony describes Brutus as “honorable,” having undercut Brutus’ credibility and honor with the precision of a scalpel. He then claims he is no orator when he has just performed a masterful exhibition of rhetoric to control a crowd. He claims not to have the “power of speech, to stir men’s blood” when in fact he is about to light up a highly flammable crowd. He strikes the match on Caesar’s wounds and tosses it into the fray. Then with a reversal of Antony and Brutus, he induces the Plebians to rise up in rebellion, using the power of suggestion.

I tell you that which you yourselves do know,
Show you sweet Caesar’s wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Caesar that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

The Plebians shout “We’ll mutiny! We’ll burn the house of Brutus! Away then! Come seek the conspirators!” This is exactly what Antony wanted them to do. But he reels them back in one more time by reminding them that they still haven’t heard Caesar’s will. Predictably, they return to hear what is written in this document that Antony had dangled before them earlier. The master of the situation does not disappoint their anticipation.

Here is the will, and under Caesar’s seal.
To every Roman citizen he gives—
To every several man—seventy-five drachmas….
Moreover he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tiber. He hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever—common pleasures
To walk abroad and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Caesar. When comes such another?

“Never, never!” shouts a Plebian. “Come, away, away! We’ll burn his body in the holy place, /And with the brands fire the traitors’ houses.” Another cries, “Take up the body. Go, fetch fire!” And the crowd of Plebians leaves, carrying Caesar in his coffin.

Now that the drama of the funeral has played out just as Antony intended it to, he steps out of the character he has played for the Plebians to return to himself. “Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. /Take thou what course thou wilt.” Antony has outmaneuvered Brutus and all his co-conspirators with imagination, wit, and dramatic ability. He has unleashed “mischief” that will ultimately take Brutus to his sword, although Brutus doesn’t recognize this until later. Antony was a far keener judge of character than Brutus, who was ossified in his inherited identity like a shell. Antony had reflexes like a fox, and a wiliness about him, too, that allowed him to maneuver quickly. When the showdown came in the funeral orations, Antony knew he had only one chance to roll a perfect score with the dice. And he did.

Shakespeare positions Antony and Brutus in confrontations at critical moments in the play that shape their lives in irrevocable ways. Brutus makes two such decisions: sparing Mark Antony’s life and allowing him to speak at the funeral. He creates the situation that will change the trajectory of both of their lives. Being underestimated raised the stakes dramatically for Antony when he faced down Brutus in the funeral orations. Before he speaks, in the moments when Antony is left alone with Caesar’s corpse, he prophesies in a white-hot rage:

And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch’s voice
Cry ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war,
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial. (III.1)

Anthony’s words at the funeral bested Brutus in a brilliant burst of oratory that changed the minds of the Plebians and deployed them with deadly force to annihilate the conspirators. This is the turning point of the play, the pivot point for the events that will culminate in war. We hear from Brutus in the next act giving utterance to words that sound like a prophecy. He does not know the irony that these words are not for the future, but describe events that already transpired.

There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
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 (IV. III).

When Brutus decided to let Antony speak at Caesar’s funeral, the tide began to pull with a powerful sucking sound of water leaving him. Brutus has missed the tide and he is the last person to notice this. His life is not yet over, but this moment was the beginning of his end. Antony and Brutus are masterfully painted by Shakespeare. Their speeches, and characters, are displayed with great artistry and we are the beneficiaries of Shakespeare’s creative genius.

This essay was first published here in November 2022.

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The featured image is “Marc Antony’s Oration at Caesar’s Funeral” by George Edward Robertson, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.