Caligula

Friedrich Nietzsche once wisely said, “A young man cannot possibly know what Greeks and Romans are. He doesn't know whether he is suited for finding out about them.” 

 

To sum up an intricate journey full of madness, idiosyncrasies and frankly, borderline sociopathic behaviour, let me just say, I have a profound desire to reverse the ticks of the clock which my ears have already heard, and magically engrain these words of Nietzsche into the abyss of my mind, igniting the much needed realisation that an obsession with the classics is akin to selling your soul to the devil. It seizes control over your life, clawing into your brain and, ensnaring your mind, relentlessly forcing it back to the same thing over and over again, no matter how hard you try, only one era runs through your subconscious, while you sleep, while you breathe and even while you lie on the ground perfectly still, intertwining with the soil and reaching another dimension that lies amidst the heavenly tapestries of clouds, the moon and the stars. Even after life’s cycle is completed, it all goes back to it, the classics, the beautiful haunting realm of the classics, as once you step into it, there is no escape, ever. This obsession transcends body and soul, haunting you, following you in every form your essence takes, one after the other, from your first step into the universe till the very last.

Throughout the course of my life, I have had an overwhelmingly maddening urge to strip my body off its essence, reduce my being into the most raw speck of life and float away unbounded into the beguiling enchanting hues of the midnight sky, calling out like sirens to my lost self as I cascade into the warm winds, feeling the breeze gently graze my face, transporting me into the heart of a civilisation that beats at the same rhythm of my soul. Emily Brontë once said, “whatever out souls are made of, his and mine are the same”. For me, the ‘his’ is not a person, but rather a tangible place, an ancient civilisation long since burned to ash, a civilisation which used to beat at the same frequency as my heart, a place that was bustling and lively, encompassed with literature music and art that fuel my soul, keeping me sane, being the anchors that ground me through the stabilising comfort of knowing that a part of me, lies buried amidst the majestic sands of Ancient Greece and Rome. 

It is undoubtedly these same invisible strings guiding the course of my life, that coerced my confuddled limbs to spasm, awkwardly falling into the awaiting arms of the classical section of the empty, chilling aisles of the cramped bookstore. Rummaging through countless titles, only one was intriguing enough to pique my slipping interest, “Caligula”. 

Caligula is a philosophical play written by the renowned Albert Camus, the man who made me fall in love with philosophy, making me curse my school for not offering it as a subject. This play is titled after its eccentric protoganoist, an ancient roman emperor who is remembered for his tyrannical rule filled with malice and torture. Caligula is typically known to be one of the cruellest men in history, responsible for the executions of thousands of innocents, with no justification except the overpowering horrors of his mind. When one says Caligula, the atmosphere for a room instably morphs into an amalgamation of disgust and repulsion, creating a stiff and suffocating setting to be in. This phenomenon led to me regard Caligula with rich distaste, that is until I stumbled upon a Percy Jackson book in middle school, The Trials of Apollo, which described his insanities, making me ponder upon the nature of his compelling character. There was just something about the picturesque that adorns his aura, that made me crazily become interested in his story and how despite the evil that churned through his veins, he was a character I loved, for whatever demented reasons.

Now, years later, after reading ‘Caligula’, a masterpiece that unravels the infinite layers of intricacies that buildup together marvellously, creating the enigmatic and bewildering persona of Caligula, I understand the different pieces that led to me to adore him, despite the brutality that tainted him. 

The play opens with a line that instantly grabs my attention, ensuring that my eyes stay focused on the bold letters inked onto the pages, and nothing else. “The young man was too fond of literature”, said a patrician in order to describe Caligula. This instant spark of connection  between him and I made me realise that maybe younger me hadn’t lost her mind when she decided that Caligula was a character her heart would adore forever. 

 Coming back to the plot, the play presents Caligula as having been a good emperor until the death of his sister and mistress Drusilla, which triggers an epiphany about reality’s true nature. Convinced that nothing lasts and that death is the only certainty, Caligula comes to realise that everything else—the value of love, good and evil, right and wrong—are meaningless. Unless the impossible can be realised, the limits of reality bind human life into a system where nothing matters, leading to everyone’s demise in a state wherein happiness had been failed to attain due to the looming moroseness of death awaiting us. Fueled by this eureka, Caligula embarked upon a new journey which would flip his life completely, shunning the light and letting the darkness erupt. 

This shift in paradigm sets the tone and context for one of my favourite scenes of the play, an interaction between Caligula and Helicon, one of his intimate friends and trusted confidants. 

Helicon: you’re looking tired

Caligula: I’ve walked a lot 

Helicon: yes you’ve been away for quite a while 

[ a short silence ]

Caligula: it was hard to find 

Helicon: what was hard to find?

Caligula: what I was after

Helicon: meaning?

Caligula: the moon. 

Helicon: what?

Caligula: Yes, I wanted the moon

Helicon: Ah… [another silence, he approaches Caligula] and why did you want it?

Caligula: Well… it's one of the things I haven’t got

Furthering his explanation, Caligula explained, “Now, listen!” I’m not mad, in fact I’ve never felt so lucid. What happened to me is quite simple; I suddenly felt a desire for the impossible. That’s all. Really, this world of ours, the scheme of things as they call it, is quite intolerable. That’s why I want the moon or happiness, or eternal life- something, in fact, that may sound crazy, but which isn’t of this world. I’m exploiting the impossible. Or, more accurately, it's a question of making the impossible possible.”

Caligula: I can see too what you’re thinking, what a pother over a woman’s death! But that’s not it, it's no more than the symbol of a truth that makes the moon essential to me.

Helicon: May I know what it is, this truth you’ve discovered? 

Caligula [ his eyes averted, in a toneless voice]: men die; and they are not happy.

 

Coupled with the nihilistic driving desire to attain the impossible, Caligula transcends into a state that the patricians around him coin as “a lunatic’s pastime”. Yet despite the colossal reservations against his ideals, Caligula charges ahead, unstoppable as he embarks upon the journey breaking the limitations of life, in order to escape from the meaningless cycle of life. Possessed with the momentous power of the Roman Empire, Caligula descends into absurdity, breaking every fibre of the empire that led to its greatness. 

“This world has no importance, once man realises that, he wins his freedom. I want… I want to drown the sky in the sea, to infuse ugliness with beauty, to wring a laugh from pain. And when the impossible has come to earth, I shall be transfigured and the world renewed, then men will die no more and at last be happy. I invite you to the most gorgeous of shows, a sight for gods to gloat on, a whole world called to judgement. But for that, I must have a crowd. Let the accused come forward. I want my criminals and they are all my criminals. Bring in the condemned men. I must have my public. Judges, witnesses, accused- all sentenced to death without a hearing. I’ll show them something they have never seen before, the only free man in the Roman Empire”.

This play is a part of me that I can’t break off no matter how hard I try, it's a fundamental piece of the puzzle that is my persona and has had an impact on me that can’t be penned down. The all-consuming love I have for the classics may be soul torturing at times, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else, as secretly, I enjoy the crippling sensations I experience tingling across my skin when I delve into those mysterious times, long gone, but forever imprinted onto the blank slate of my mind. This is a play I would recommend to everyone, but proceed to read it with caution, as keep Nietzsche’s words and my experiences in mind, as you may find yourself in my shoes one fine day after reading this play, writing a review at 4 am and spiralling because of the overwhelming love for classics, despite having an exam the next day because the love you have for the classics burns brighter than any star.