Caligula by Albert Camus

First published: 1944, in “Le Malentendu” suivi de “Caligula” (English translation, 1948)

First produced: 1945, at the Théâtre-Heberotot, Paris

Type of plot: Absurdist

Time of work: 37-41 c.e.

Locale: Rome

Principal Characters:

• Caius (Caligula), the emperor of Rome, 37-41 c.e.
• Caesonia, Caligula’s mistress
• Helicon, an aide to Caligula
• Scipio, a young poet
• Cherea, a literary man

The Play

As Caligula opens, a group of Roman patricians are gathered in the imperial palace. The young emperor, Caius, known affectionately as Caligula (little boot), has disappeared following the death of his sister Drusilla. Joined by Helicon, an aide to the emperor, and Cherea, an author, the patricians praise Caligula as “exactly the emperor we wanted; conscientious and inexperienced.” Cherea, however, warns of the danger posed by an “artistic emperor.” Scipio, a young poet, enters to report on the search, leaving promptly when the discussion turns to Caligula’s successor.

A guardsman enters, announcing that Caligula has been sighted, and the stage clears. Caligula enters, becoming fascinated with his reflection in a mirror. Helicon returns and Caligula addresses him, expressing his desire for “the moon,” for “the impossible.” Helicon accepts Caligula’s quest and promises to help. Caligula exits. Scipio enters, accompanied by Caesonia, Caligula’s mistress; their passionate concern for the emperor contrasts sharply with Helicon’s detachment. To Helicon, Caligula is merely idealistic and therefore unpredictable.

Helicon exits and Caligula enters. Some patricians and the Intendent of the palace appear. In response to the Intendent’s concern over the Treasury, Caligula announces a plan to have the country’s wealthy men change their wills to make the state their beneficiary. These men will then be executed to replenish the imperial coffers. The patricians and Intendent are shocked; Scipio calls the plan “impossible . . . a lunatic’s pastime.” “An emperor’s vocation,” Caligula counters.

Cherea enters, but Caligula dismisses him. “I don’t like literary men and I can’t bear lies.” Cherea’s lie, according to Caligula, is to “attribute importance to people and to things,” when the truth is that “this world has no importance; once a man realizes that he wins his freedom.” Scipio, too, is dismissed, for “what is friendship?” Alone with Caesonia, Caligula asks for her support, which she pledges. Some patricians enter and Caligula gathers them around. Gazing once more at his reflection in the mirror, he acknowledges himself with a proud “yes . . . Caligula” as act 1 concludes.

The second act opens with Scipio and some patricians meeting secretly in Cherea’s house. Three years have passed, with Caligula’s oppression becoming more severe and senseless. Scipio’s father has been executed. One patrician’s son has been killed; another’s wife has been violated by Caligula. The group, armed, is starting out after Caligula when Cherea enters. He counsels caution. In time, he tells them, Caligula will be isolated from the masses not only by his deeds, but also by his “inhuman vision,” according to which life “means no more than a speck of dust.”

There are trumpet calls. Caligula enters, accompanied by Caesonia and Helicon. The Emperor proceeds to remind the patricians of his atrocities, then gratifies himself sexually (just offstage) with a patrician’s wife. He also orders the public granaries closed. Finally, he forces a fatal dose of poison down the throat of an unfortunate patrician and exits.

Scipio enters and is drawn into conversation first with Caesonia, then Helicon, who says “I know that you could kill Caligula and he wouldn’t greatly mind it.” Helicon exits and Caligula enters. Scipio asks Caligula if, like all men, he does not have some “secret solace” which provides relief “when life has wearied them beyond enduring.” Caligula responds: He does “have something of the kind . . . Scorn.”

Act 3 opens with the rhythmic clashing of cymbals and a thudding drum. As the curtain rises, the audience sees a platform set up in a room of the imperial palace. Caesonia and Helicon are on the platform. Some patricians and Scipio are sitting on benches before the platform, their backs to the audience. Helicon announces that Caligula will reveal “the secrets of Olympus.” Proclaiming himself Venus, Caligula appears, staging an irreverent commentary on the gods. When he concludes, he dismisses the patricians, who hasten away. Scipio remains, admonishing Caligula for his blasphemy and warning of dire consequences should he continue to toy with popular beliefs. Caligula, unmoved, dismisses Scipio; Caesonia also leaves. Helicon warns Caligula of a conspiracy led by Cherea. Unperturbed, Caligula orders him to get on with his “task . . . you know, the moon.” Caligula is now confronted by “the old patrician,” who reveals the plot against the emperor, but Caligula displays no interest. He dismisses the man and sends for Cherea, who admits his guilt. “Why is it you hate me?” Caligula asks. “I cannot hate you,” Cherea answers, “because I don’t think you are happy.” Cherea rejects a world where at any moment “the absurd” may transfix his life “like a dagger in the heart.” True to the randomness of his atrocities, Caligula permits Cherea to go free.

Act 4 also takes place in the palace. Cherea and Scipio enter; Cherea tries to persuade Scipio to join the insurrection, but Scipio refuses. Helicon enters to inform Cherea that Caligula will be giving a “little party.” Scipio and Helicon exit. The old patrician enters with a colleague and two armed escorts. Suddenly there is music. In shadow play, Caligula briefly performs a grotesque dance, then withdraws. Caesonia, who has slipped in unseen, says that those present have been summoned to experience an “artistic emotion.” She asks whether they found the dance beautiful. The patricians eagerly assent, but Cherea is less committal. Caesonia departs, followed by Cherea.

More patricians enter. Caesonia returns, announcing that Caligula is ill. The patricians sham consternation, one offering a large sum to the treasury should Caligula recover, another offering Jupiter his life for Caligula’s. Caligula has heard. He accepts both pledges, having the patrician who offered his life dragged away for execution. A similar charade is followed by a poetry contest, the subject of which is death. Caligula impatiently halts each poet after no more than a line or two until Scipio recites. He hears Scipio out and declares him the winner; he forces the losers to lick their tablets clean. Scipio exits, saying that he is going away to “discover the meaning of it all.” A dialogue between Caesonia and Caligula ensues, during which Caligula becomes extremely agitated. Frightened, Caesonia asks, “How can you call it happiness, this terrifying freedom?” Caligula strangles her and awaits the conspirators. Curiously, he, too, fears death. Returning to his mirror, he contemplates himself, then hurls an object at his reflection. As the mirror shatters, the conspirators enter, Scipio and Cherea at the forefront. They stab Caligula’s face; the others join in. The play ends with Caligula shrieking, “I’m still alive!”

Dramatic Devices

Although Caligula presents a clear philosophical theme, it is also consummately theatrical. Indeed, some observers have asserted that effective drama was Camus’s primary concern, and it would not be at all surprising if that were true. Camus founded the Theatre du Travail (Workers’ Theater) in his native Algeria (which was then a French colony) and helped organize a touring company in which he participated as actor, screen designer, and director. It is quite likely that Camus originally planned to play the role of Caligula himself.

Caligula owes its effectiveness as drama to its deftness of characterization, rapid pace, high level of suspense, and striking visual imagery. The most formidable character of the play is Caligula himself. Originally played to excellent reviews by the prominent Gerard Phillipe, the character of Caligula is both immediately riveting and deeply complex. From the ominous foreboding coloring the dialogue preceding his first appearance, Caligula grips the audience’s attention. His fascination with his reflection in the mirror, his rapid shifts of emotion, and his unpredictable behavior all produce the sense of anticipation or expectancy that creates good tense theater. Further, Caligula is no simple oppressor. The audience is made to feel the anguish which fuels his cruelty, so the character of Caligula achieves universality while remaining highly personal—and even somewhat sympathetic.

The subsidiary characters of Caligula are less flamboyant but serve a clear purpose in forwarding the play. Helicon’s detachment is a wry commentary on the urgent passions of the other characters. Caesonia’s unwillingness to accept the true depths of Caligula’s despair helps to drive home its poignancy. Scipio’s deep attachment to Caligula indicates the special relation of artists to the absurd, while his participation in Caligula’s assassination symbolizes a triumph of happiness over tragic sensibilities. Cherea’s instinctive understanding of what is truly at stake enables Camus to articulate his philosophical theme without interrupting or overburdening his plot. All these characters, in fact, help Camus to dramatize the play’s message without having to insert it artificially in the form of lengthy speeches.

Camus endowed Caligula with a rapid pace, one which allows the audience to grasp what is occurring without ever having to wait long for some new development. This keeps the play suspenseful; although the audience suspects what will happen ultimately, it does not know quite how. Finally, Caligula offers its audience an abundance of the sort of visual images that make a theatrical experience memorable. The play within a play, Caligula’s poisoning of the patrician, and his assassination at the play’s close are scenes that linger in the mind long after an audience has seen them.

Critical Context

While Camus is best known for his novels and essays, Caligula has long been recognized as one of the great plays of the twentieth century. It stands with Camus’s best novels, L’Étranger (1942; The Stranger, 1946) and La Peste (1947; The Plague, 1948), and essay collections, The Myth of Sisyphus and The Rebel, as one of his most distinguished works. Although none of Camus’s other plays has achieved this status, he did have significant success with Le Malentendu (pr., pb. 1944; The Misunderstanding, 1948), L’État de siège (pr., pb. 1948; State of Siege, 1958), and his stage adaptations of William Faulkner’s Requiem for a Nun (Requiem pour une nonne, 1956) and Fyodor Dostoevski’s The Possessed (Les Possédés, 1959).

The Misunderstanding is a tale of tragic irony, in which a long lost son returns to his family anonymously only to be robbed and killed by them before they learn his identity the following day. State of Siege is a freewheeling poetic fantasy that Camus referred to as a “spectacle” rather than a traditional play. Featuring song, dance, and choral ode, it eschews a coherent plot, presenting instead an almost impressionistic exploration of modern political atrocities, both subtle and blatant. A terribly demanding piece of theater, State of Siege rambles and is often obscure. It was to be Camus’s last such experiment; his future plays would feature a much more conventional structure.

Les Justes (pr. 1949; The Just Assassins, 1958) is a morality play about the relationship between justice and political violence. The characters are well drawn, the subject matter is suitably dramatic, and the theme of just ends and means is penetrating. In the last few years of his life, Camus achieved significant adaptations for theater of works by Faulkner and Dostoevski. Camus took liberties with Requiem for a Nun, clarifying the motivation of Faulkner’s characters and eliminating much of the rich ambiguity of Faulkner’s prose. Camus stuck more closely to the original in his adaptation of The Possessed, preserving much of the work’s complexity. The result was one of the most successful productions on the French stage in 1959. None of these efforts has matched Caligula in critical acclaim, but they all reveal a great instinct for theater and illuminate Camus’s philosophical concerns.

Sources for Further Study

Camus, Albert. “The Myth of Sisyphus” and Other Essays. New York: Knopf, 1955.

Freeman, E. The Theatre of Albert Camus: A Critical Study. London: Methuen, 1971.

Lebesque, Morran. Portrait of Camus. New York: Herder and Herder, 1971.

Lottman, Herbert R. Albert Camus: A Biography. Corte Madera, Calif.: Gingko Press, 1997.

Masters, Brian. Camus: A Study. Totowa, N.J.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1974.

Thody, Phillip. Albert Camus: A Study of His Work. New York: Grove Press, 1959.

Wilhoite, Fred H., Jr. Beyond Nihilism: Albert Camus’s Contribution to Political Thought. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1968.