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Albert CamusA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Yearning for the impossible drives Caligula throughout the play. The emperor declares: “What happened to me is quite simple; I suddenly felt a desire for the impossible” (8). He speaks about this in terms of his quest to capture the moon, but it is clear that it represents a philosophical ambition as much as a fanciful quest.
As the play continues, the reader begins to understand where this desire, so apparently unrooted in reality, comes from. Caligula’s philosophy is based on the premise that nothing lasts—everyone dies, no one is happy, and so nothing matters in the end. Caligula is driven to pursue the impossible, at least in part, as a reaction against life’s meaninglessness. It is how he responds to Drusilla’s death. The impossible is an escape from the meaninglessness of everything around him: “Yet, really, it’s quite simple. If I’d had the moon, if love were enough, all might have been different” (73). This sentiment parallels some of Camus’s own journey: he was always looking for a solution to the inherent nihilism of life.
Caligula’s desire for the impossible is not only manifested in his quest to capture the moon. He also speaks of it in terms of aspiring to godhood, or even beyond: “And yet—what is a god that I should wish to be his equal? No, it’s something higher, far above the gods, that I’m aiming at […] I am taking over a kingdom where the impossible is king” (16). However, at the play’s conclusion he realizes that he has failed. Helicon, whom he had tasked with seizing the moon, has not been successful, and despite Caligula’s exercise of power, he remains human and mortal: “The impossible! I’ve searched for it at the confines of the world, in the secret places of my heart. […] I have chosen a wrong path, a path that leads to nothing” (73). Having failed, all that remains for Caligula is death.
Camus transforms the historical portrayal of Caligula. He suggests that the young emperor is not experiencing psychosis but is rather quite logical. Caligula says this himself: “All that’s needed, I should say, is to be logical right through, at all costs” (8).
If it were only Caligula saying such things, the reader might still suspect psychosis, but Cherea, the most level-headed character in the play, repeats and affirms Caligula’s logic: “He is converting his philosophy into corpses and—unfortunately for us—it’s a philosophy that’s logical from start to finish” (21).
Strictly speaking, to be “logical” does not necessarily mean that an argument is true—it only means that it validly proceeds from its own premises. However, Caligula believes that the logic of his position reflects its correspondence to reality. In the blasphemous litany he forces the patricians to recite, he refers to the world’s lack of truth as a “verity of verities” (41)—that is, as an ultimate truth. With this paradoxical turn of phrase, he conveys his belief that the world is meaningless. If his premise is correct—that the final reality is that “men die; and they are not happy” (8)—then life is meaningless.
Cherea, however, adds nuance to Caligula’s perspective. While he agrees with the logic of Caligula’s argument, he does not think that logic is the only measure by which a position should be judged. In reference to his own way of thinking, Cherea admits to Caligula: “My plan of life may not be logical, but at least it’s sound” (51). The implication is that Caligula’s philosophy is unsound. Regardless of its logic, or even of its truth, it is not possible for humans to build a life upon its principles. Thus, it loses its value as a philosophical system. It is unworkable in a practical sense, and perhaps even dangerous, which in Cherea’s view means that it needs to be discarded. Throughout the play, there is an ongoing dialogue about whether a position’s logic is enough to make it worth pursuing.
In the author’s preface to the play’s 1958 publication, Camus writes that “if [philosophy] exists, it stands on the level of this assertion by the hero: ‘Men die; and they are not happy’” (vi). If there is no reality beyond this life, and if death does away with all the attachments, memories, and values of life, then all those things have no lasting value. “I now know that nothing, nothing lasts,” says Caligula (71). In the emperor’s view, death is the ultimate reality, stripping away all meaning and worth.
Caligula’s philosophy allows him to deal out death without any hesitation or compunction. In his view, death is inevitable and renders everything else in his victims’ lives meaningless. Therefore, there would be no reason not to kill them whenever the fancy struck. Caligula thus exerts power by randomly executing members of the patrician class and tricking interlocutors to their deaths by entrapping them in their own words.
Caligula is convinced that death is his destiny. It appears inevitable, and so he makes no attempts to escape it beyond his idealistic pursuit of the impossible. Rather than put down the assassination coup, he destroys the evidence of its existence and allows the conspirators to keep planning, all while continuing behavior that led to the plot in the first place. As he destroys the evidence implicating Cherea, Caligula says, “your emperor awaits his repose. It’s his way of living and being happy” (54). Caligula suggests that the only practical way of living is to embrace death as one’s destiny.
Caligula finally faces his own death. Rather than end the play on that note, however, Camus provides an unexpected twist. It is evident that Caligula is dying as the curtain falls, but the final line repudiates death: “I’m still alive!” (74). Here Camus suggests that the ideas which motivated the emperor’s behavior are still alive in the world, as inescapably present as death itself.
The inescapable reality of death strips meaning from every other part of life. This includes all human customs, attachments, and valuations, all the social standards by which people live in community with one another. If nothing lasts and nothing matters, then politeness counts for nothing, sexual morality counts for nothing, and even good and evil count for nothing. They are all meaningless. Caligula views them as illogical restrictions—why bind oneself to doing those things which are perceived as “good” if there’s really no such thing as goodness? His mission is to enforce meaninglessness on his subjects, and to find freedom from the illogical restrictions of moral and social rules: “This world has no importance,” says Caligula. “Once a man realizes that, he wins his freedom” (14).
While this might seem logical given Caligula’s philosophy, it has two serious flaws: Freedom is a contextual reality which impacts others, not an independent attainment; and second, Caligula’s philosophy leads to a negation of freedom, as death removes all other choices and possibilities. Camus articulates the first of these errors in his preface to the 1958 edition: “Caligula accepts death because he has understood that no one can save himself all alone and that one cannot be free at the expense of others” (vi). Caligula’s exercise of freedom impinges on everyone else’s freedom in dramatic and terrifying ways. Rather than being the principle of a liberated life, “freedom” in Caligula’s philosophy becomes a zero-sum game in which, if there is a winner, everyone else loses.
Caligula expresses the second flaw of his philosophy in his final soliloquy, as the assassination plot closes in around him: “I have chosen the wrong path,” he says, “a path that leads to nothing. My freedom isn’t the right one” (73). He admits that his pursuit of freedom has backed him into a corner. It is not true freedom, but a captivity in death, the only option left to him. It is the most pernicious restriction of them all. His final epiphany matches a common theme in moral philosophy, which warns against mistaking liberty for what is merely license. Liberty is true freedom, but it comes with associated obligations to one’s fellow humans, whereas license—an imagined freedom from arbitrary morals—leads not to freedom, but to captivity to one’s passions.
By Albert Camus
Dramatic Plays
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Existentialism
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Fate
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French Literature
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Good & Evil
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Loyalty & Betrayal
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Order & Chaos
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Philosophy, Logic, & Ethics
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Popular Study Guides
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Revenge
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Safety & Danger
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