the caesar problem
Happy Ides of March and it is a lovely night to talk about the Caesar motif in Les Misérables, don't you think?
Caesar is not really important in his own right despite being regularly name dropped, the important thing is what he represents (arguably like Shakespeare's.) In this case, abstractly, glorious despotism, or specifically, Napoleon.
It was not a new comparison, and certainly not inherently derogatory, as it was frequently espoused by Napoleon's supporters—including his nephew Napoleon III, who later wrote a biography of Caesar in which he explicitly compared the two. Napoleon himself wrote commentaries on Caesar's battles, comparing himself and defending Caesar's dictatorship.
So the Caesar-Napoleon image was well formed in the French consciousness when Hugo published Les Mis. And Hugo plays along with it, and you'll find that comparison made in the Waterloo chapters and during Marius's "discovery" of Bonapartism—and, as is best remembered, in his speech to Les Amis.
You all know it (and Combeferre's response) and I've written about it before here.
The biggest thing to keep in mind is that Les Mis was published during the reign of Napoleon III while Hugo was in exile. He was in exile was for declaring the new Emperor a traitor to France, then published political pamphlets against him (one titled "Napoleon the Little") which were promptly banned, but smuggled into France.
Napoleon III himself was quite concerned with upholding his uncle's veneration in order to maintain the legitimacy of his own rule. So Combeferre and Marius's argument is not only about Napoleon's historical legacy, but highly relevant and provocative in the context the book was published.
This is only part of a broader dialogue about Caesar, though, partly narrated between Combeferre and Grantaire.
In fact Grantaire is the first to bring up Caesar in the chapter, as part of his first drunken ramble:
"Whom do you admire, the slain or the slayer, Caesar or Brutus? Generally men are in favor of the slayer. Long live Brutus, he has slain! There lies the virtue."
And again in "Preliminary Gaieties":
"Great accidents are the law; the order of things cannot do without them; and, judging from the apparition of comets, one would be tempted to think that Heaven itself finds actors needed for its performance. At the moment when one expects it the least, God placards a meteor on the wall of the firmament. Some queer star turns up, underlined by an enormous tail. And that causes the death of Caesar. Brutus deals him a blow with a knife, and God a blow with a comet. Crac, and behold an aurora borealis, behold a revolution, behold a great man; ’93 in big letters, Napoleon on guard, the comet of 1811 at the head of the poster."
In both cases he's being characteristically sarcastic, describing the inanity of these so-called great events, and as usual, the hypocrisy and wretchedness of the world.
On the other hand we have Combeferre, who is an interesting ideological objector here—first of all because he is the exact opposite of Grantaire with his utter belief in pure progress, but also because Combeferre is not necessarily the one you would expect to be a staunch defender of Caesar's assassination.
“Caesar,” said Combeferre, “fell justly. Cicero was severe towards Caesar, and he was right. That severity is not diatribe. When Zoïlus insults Homer, when Maevius insults Virgil, when Visé insults Molière, when Pope insults Shakespeare, when Frederic insults Voltaire, it is an old law of envy and hatred which is being carried out; genius attracts insult, great men are always more or less barked at. But Zoïlus and Cicero are two different persons. Cicero is an arbiter in thought, just as Brutus is an arbiter by the sword. For my own part, I blame that last justice, the blade; but, antiquity admitted it. Caesar, the violator of the Rubicon, conferring, as though they came from him, the dignities which emanated from the people, not rising at the entrance of the senate, committed the acts of a king and almost of a tyrant, regia ac pene tyrannica. He was a great man; so much the worse, or so much the better; the lesson is but the more exalted. His twenty-three wounds touch me less than the spitting in the face of Jesus Christ. Caesar is stabbed by the senators; Christ is cuffed by lackeys. One feels the God through the greater outrage.”
But there's his answer to Grantaire's first question. Combeferre, pacifist, lover of peaceful progress and frequently a mouthpiece for Hugo's own beliefs, thinks Caesar's assassination was justified. This lines up with a broader theme that starts all the way back with the Conventionist—that revolutions may be a necessary and justifiable part of progress, and that tyranny must not be tolerated despite the glories and greatness Marius points out, and despite the human costs of doing so. Combeferre himself is preparing to die on the barricade when he says this, so it feels like a justification for themselves and their actions.
And Combeferre gets the last word on this. Caesar isn't mentioned again in the book.
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Hca of jake rambling about amy to holt in Florida and to Kevin at the safe house?
- Holt has tried to keep the distance the FBI has told them to keep from each other to not be suspicious, but after seeing Jake in his hot tub and all the other warning signs of what is clearly depression, he invites him over for 'a neighbourly chat' which turns into beers and bad movies on his couch
- (and if that absolutely unusual evening behaviour makes Holt feel weirdly better about his own terrors, well...)
- it only takes two beers and a particularly corny scene in the movie for Jake to start. It begins slow - just the softest 'I miss her' that Holt can only agree to. But it soon moves on to all the amazing things about Amy, because the one way Jake has figured out to cheer himself up in Florida is to think about what his incredible girlfriend can do and is probably doing right now
- Holt lets him talk, mostly, but he can't help but throw in a few things about Kevin that Jake's talk reminds him of (their spouses are weirdly alike in some ways). Jake eats those up, too, he can tell, learning more about his 'dads' and sharing their wish to get back to them.
- Holt definitely looks at Amy, and their whole relationship, quite different when they get back. He sees all those little things he never noticed, but Jake could talk about for a good 15 minutes each. He also sees the way Amy looks at Jake, and thinks about what things she would've told him in Jake's position.
- (he gets to hear those a while later, sadly, when Jake's in prison)
- with Kevin it starts a lot more cheerful, because the Safe House is only a temporary thing, and so Jake chats about Amy more to fill the silence rather than to fight his depression
- Kevin is annoyed by it at first, like he is with everything the detective does, but he's attentive enough to note the abaolute change in Jake's voice and behaviour when he talks about Amy
- and he feels weirdly moved by it, because so much he extolls as her 'best features' is a) things he recognises from his own husband (that mentor+mentee team is really far too similar) and b) things he knows other people would rather judge Amy (and Holt) for, but there's nothing but love and admiration in Jake's voice
- Kevin actually steers their topics towards Amy and Holt so he can avoid Jake spending another two hours talking about some inane film, and he ends up having so many of his prejudices against Jake corrected
- because yes, he's immature and crazy and boisterous and irresponsible, but not with Amy. There's a surprisingly well-behaved, attentive, caring and responsible adult hiding behind that whole bravado, and Santiago seems to be the key to unlock it
- (when he returns home, and tells Holt about his findings, his husband only smiles - smiles!! - and nods. "Jake is quite layered." "like an onion" Kevin says before he can think better, and curses the layer of Peralta that made him watch those horrible Shrek movies twice)
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