Author: Eugene Field

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    Of all the opry-houses then obtaining in the West
    The one which Milton Tootle owned was, by all odds, the best;
    Milt, being rich, was much too proud to run the thing alone,
    So he hired an "acting manager," a gruff old man named Krone--
    A stern, commanding man with piercing eyes and flowing beard,
    And his voice assumed a thunderous tone when Jack and I appeared;
    He said that Julius Caesar had been billed a week or so,
    And would have to have some armies by the time he reached St. Jo!

    O happy days, when Tragedy still winged an upward flight,
    When actors wore tin helmets and cambric robes at night!
    O happy days, when sounded in the public's rapturous ears
    The creak of pasteboard armor and the clash of wooden spears!
    O happy times for Jack and me and that one other supe
    That then and there did constitute the noblest Roman's troop!
    With togas, battle axes, shields, we made a dazzling show,
    When we were Roman soldiers with Brutus in St. Jo!

    We wheeled and filed and double-quicked wherever Brutus led,
    The folks applauding what we did as much as what he said;
    'T was work, indeed; yet Jack and I were willing to allow
    'T was easier following Brutus than following father's plough;
    And at each burst of cheering, our valor would increase--
    We tramped a thousand miles that night, at fifty cents apiece!
    For love of Art--not lust for gold--consumed us years ago,
    When we were Roman soldiers with Brutus in St. Jo!

    To-day, while walking in the Square, Jack Langrish says to me:
    "My friend, the drama nowadays ain't what it used to be!
    These farces and these comedies--how feebly they compare
    With that mantle of the tragic art which Forrest used to wear!
    My soul is warped with bitterness to think that you and I--
    Co-heirs to immortality in seasons long gone by--
    Now draw a paltry stipend from a Boston comic show,
    We, who were Roman soldiers with Brutus in St. Jo!"

    And so we talked and so we mused upon the whims of Fate
    That had degraded Tragedy from its old, supreme estate;
    And duly, at the Morton bar, we stigmatized the age
    As sinfully subversive of the interests of the Stage!
    For Jack and I were actors in the halcyon, palmy days
    Long, long before the Hoyt school of farce became the craze;
    Yet, as I now recall it, it was twenty years ago
    That we were Roman soldiers with Brutus in St. Jo!

    We were by birth descended from a race of farmer kings
    Who had done eternal battle with grasshoppers and things;
    But the Kansas farms grew tedious--we pined for that delight
    We read of in the Clipper in the barber's shop by night!
    We would be actors--Jack and I--and so we stole away
    From our native spot, Wathena, one dull September day,
    And started for Missouri--ah, little did we know
    We were going to train as soldiers with Brutus in St. Jo!

    Our army numbered three in all--Marc Antony's was four;
    Our army hankered after fame, but Marc's was after gore!
    And when we reached Philippi, at the outset we were met
    With an inartistic gusto I can never quite forget.
    For Antony's overwhelming force of thumpers seemed to be
    Resolved to do "them Kansas jays"--and that meant Jack and me!
    My lips were sealed but that it seems quite proper you should know
    That Rome was nowhere in it at Philippi in St. Jo!

    I've known the slow-consuming grief and ostentatious pain
    Accruing from McKean Buchanan's melancholy Dane;
    Away out West I've witnessed Bandmann's peerless hardihood,
    With Arthur Cambridge have I wrought where walking was not good;
    In every phase of horror have I bravely borne my part,
    And even on my uppers have I proudly stood for Art!
    And, after all my suffering, it were not hard to show
    That I got my allopathic dose with Brutus at St. Jo!

    That army fell upon me in a most bewildering rage
    And scattered me and mine upon that histrionic stage;
    My toga rent, my helmet gone and smashed to smithereens,
    They picked me up and hove me through whole centuries of scenes!
    I sailed through Christian eras and medival gloom
    And fell from Arden forest into Juliet's painted tomb!
    Oh, yes, I travelled far and fast that night, and I can show
    The scars of honest wounds I got with Brutus in St. Jo!

    Ah me, old Davenport is gone, of fickle fame forgot,
    And Barrett sleeps forever in a much neglected spot;
    Fred Warde, the papers tell me, in far woolly western lands
    Still flaunts the banner of high Tragic Art at one-night stands;
    And Jack and I, in Charley Hoyt's Bostonian dramas wreak
    Our vengeance on creation at some eensty dolls per week.
    By which you see that public taste has fallen mighty low
    Since we fought as Roman soldiers with Brutus in St. Jo!

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Type of Poem: Narrative Poem

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: Poem Style:
"With Brutus in St. Jo" is a narrative poem with elements of humor and satire. Eugene Field uses a colloquial and conversational tone, blending the nostalgic with the comedic to recount the misadventures of two young aspiring actors. The poem follows a structured ABCB rhyme scheme, with a steady rhythm that mimics the cadence of storytelling. This light-hearted ballad captures the whimsy of theatrical life in the American Midwest during the 19th century.

Themes:
Nostalgia for the Past:

The poem reflects on the "golden age" of theater, contrasting the grandeur of high tragedy with the triviality of contemporary farce. This theme of longing for a bygone era permeates the narrative.
The Folly of Youthful Ambition:

Field humorously depicts the protagonists’ naive aspirations to become great actors, their romanticized dreams clashing with the gritty reality of life on stage.
The Decline of Art:

The poem critiques the perceived fall of the theatrical arts, lamenting the replacement of "high Tragic Art" with comedic farces and mass-market entertainment.
The Absurdity of Theatrical Life:

Through its farcical recounting of theatrical misadventures, the poem celebrates the chaos and absurdity of life as a struggling actor.
Structure and Form:
The poem is structured in eight-line stanzas, maintaining a conversational tone throughout. The narrative unfolds in a chronological manner, beginning with the protagonists' youthful aspirations, their brief stint in high tragedy, and their later disenchantment with the theater. The rhythmic flow and rhyme scheme create an engaging, almost song-like quality that underscores the humor and wistfulness.

Analysis of Key Elements:
Tone and Mood:
The tone is playful and satirical, with moments of bittersweet nostalgia. Field blends humor with reflective commentary, allowing readers to laugh at the absurdities of theatrical life while sympathizing with the protagonists’ unfulfilled dreams.
The mood shifts between light-hearted humor and a tinge of melancholy, particularly when lamenting the decline of art and the loss of theatrical greats.
Imagery and Symbolism:
The Theater as a Battlefield:

The staging of Julius Caesar is humorously likened to a military campaign, complete with armies and battles. This metaphor underscores the chaos and drama of theatrical productions.
Roman Soldiers:

The protagonists' roles as Roman soldiers symbolize their naïve entry into a world far larger and more complex than they anticipated, highlighting their youthful idealism and lack of experience.
Broken Props and Torn Costumes:

The recurring imagery of shattered helmets, rent togas, and chaos on stage reflects the comedic absurdity of amateur theatrical productions.
Characterization:
The Narrator and Jack:
The protagonists are depicted as earnest yet bumbling young men, whose passion for acting is both endearing and comical. Their reflections on their early years reveal a deep-seated love for the theater despite its challenges.
The Acting Manager, Krone:
Krone’s gruff demeanor and command add to the humor, serving as a foil to the protagonists' naivety.
Sound Devices:
Alliteration and Assonance:
Field uses alliteration (“hankered after fame,” “scattered me and mine”) and assonance to enhance the musicality and rhythm of the poem.
Repetition:
Phrases like "With Brutus in St. Jo" act as a refrain, anchoring the narrative and reinforcing its central theme.
Interpretation:
Field’s poem is a loving satire of the theatrical world, celebrating its eccentricities while lamenting the loss of its grandeur. The humor lies in the juxtaposition of the protagonists' grandiose dreams with the reality of their humble roles as extras in a chaotic production. Beneath the comedy, however, lies a wistful commentary on the changing face of theater and the passage of time. The poem ultimately celebrates the passion and resilience of those who pursue art, even in the face of absurdity and disappointment.

Context and Universality:
While the poem is rooted in the specific context of 19th-century American theater, its themes of youthful ambition, nostalgia, and the tension between high art and popular entertainment remain timeless. Field’s affectionate portrayal of the protagonists invites readers to reflect on their own youthful dreams and the enduring value of artistic passion.