Mr. Hundert, Mr. Bell, and the

Mr. Julius Caesar Contest 

Joseph S. Fulda  

        Joseph Fulda is a freelance writer living in New York City. He is the author of Eight Steps Towards Libertarianism.

        Now that 2002 has drawn to a close, it is time to consider nominees for the film that best reflected the values of this journal during the year. My choice is The Emperor’s Club, a film set at Saint Benedict’s Academy for Boys where the learned Mr. William Hundert, a history professor, teaches Western Civilization—the Greeks and the Romans, a course which not only covers history but also the Greek and Roman classics and even Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Mr. Hundert opens his first lesson by having a student, Martin Blythe, read the plaque hanging on top of the classroom door.

I am Shutruk-Nahunte, King of Anshand and Susa, Sovereign of the land of Elam, I destroyed Sippar and took the stele of Naram-Sin and brought it back to Elam, where I erected it as an offering to my god.  

Shutruk-Nahunte (1158 B.C.), the plaque reads. He asks if anyone knows who Shutruk-Nahunte is. “Texts are permissible,” he adds, “but you won’t find it there.” He was a ruler and conqueror, but his accomplishments are not to be found in any history book, because “Great ambition and conquest without contribution is without significance.” Turning to the class, Mr. Hundert asks, “What will your contribution be?”

        The plot centers around one of his students, the irresistible and impossible Sedgewick Bell, son of Senator Hiram Bell, and the Mr. Julius Caesar contest, an annual affair at the school in which three finalists face off against each other with increasingly difficult questions posed by Mr. Hundert in front of an audience including the parents of the finalists and the students and staff of the school. The finalists are chosen on the basis of a series of essay quizzes, the final one of which lasts three hours. Now Sedgewick has been failing, while inspiring his classmates to all manner of pranks and trouble, so Mr. Hundert goes off to see his father. That visit is an education to Mr. Hundert as the Senator lectures Mr. Hundert:

Teach my son his times tables, why the world is round, who killed whom and when and where, but you will not mold my son. I will mold my son.

The senator does call his son at the school, however, and the young Mr. Bell is temporarily out of spirits. Mr. Hundert extends his hand and offers Sedgewick his own high school text on the Romans, telling him that he believes in him, that he has the potential to be at the very top of his class if only he wants to. Sedgewick takes on the challenge and studies hard, earning himself a passing grade on the first quiz a day later and eventually a very respectable fourth-place finish on the Mr. Julius Caesar contest. Impressed by his turnaround and not wanting to discourage him, Mr. Hundert quietly reviews the final essay quiz and marks a fateful vertical stroke through the “a-” on the paper making it an “a+.” Mr. Bell is now a finalist and Martin Blythe, the son of a legacy alumnus (who is so proud that he had been crowned Mr. Julius Caesar when he was a student at Saint Benedict’s that he never fails to tell his son which question won him the contest) is pushed out, and left utterly dejected, oblivious that he had been a finalist. The other two finalists are Deepak Mehta, who came in second, and Louis Masoudi, who came in first.

        On the day of the contest, the three contenders take their places, with togas over their clothes, and Mr. Masoudi eventually falls out by getting a question half-wrong. So it is now between Mr. Mehta and Mr. Bell. Mr. Mehta answers mostly smoothly, but Mr. Bell furrows his brow, squints, and appears lost in thought at each question. It soon becomes apparent to us, and to Mr. Hundert, that Mr. Bell is in fact cheating, looking down the side of his toga where his notes are plastered. Mr. Hundert takes the opportunity of a lull during applause to sit briefly next to Mr. Woodbridge, the headmaster, and calmly tells him that Mr. Bell is cheating. Let it go, ignore it, responds Mr. Woodbridge, no doubt because Senator Bell is in the audience. Mr. Hundert is not about to let it go, however, nor is he going to defy his headmaster. Instead, he shelves his cards with the prepared questions, and loudly asks Mr. Bell who Hamilcar Barca was. The Carthaginians were not a required part of the course, but Mr. Hundert remembers seeing Mr. Mehta reading about Hamilcar Barca and having an exchange with him on the commander, an outstanding commander, he had said, with the misfortune of being on the losing side. Naturally, Mr. Bell cannot answer the question, but Mr. Mehta does and is crowned Mr. Julius Caesar, with everyone but the Senator and his wife, and the headmaster and his wife giving Mr. Mehta a standing ovation.

        After the contest, Mr. Hundert goes to Mr. Bell’s room to confront him. Mr. Bell says he knew what Mr. Hundert saw and opens his toga wide and rips off the pasted cards inside. “Why, Sedgewick?’ asks Mr. Hundert, “You knew the material.” Sedgewick answers “Why not?” and then asks why he wasn’t turned in. Mr. Hundert replies that it’s a complicated matter. Sedgewick says that it wasn’t because of his father, was it? Mr. Hundert replies, “It had nothing to do with your father.” Mr. Bell replies, “Sure, Mr. Hundert. Sure.” After this exchange, Mr. Bell’s flirtation with learning comes to an end and we are told that he graduated in the spring of 1976 with a string of Cs and Ds as his transcript is shown on the big screen.

        The Second Act of the film opens 25 years later. Now retired, but still a relatively young man, Mr. Hundert receives a call from Mr. James Ellerby, a Latinist at the school who became headmaster upon Mr. Woodbridge’s demise. A meeting is arranged, and Mr. Ellerby shows Mr. Hundert clippings of Mr. Bell in the news, most recently, after a merger, of his having become CEO of one of the largest companies in America. Mr. Hundert is puzzled: What has any of this to with him? Well it seems that Mr. Bell has offered a sizable donation to Saint Benedict’s, enough for a 25,000-square foot addition to the library, and the largest donation ever received by the school. But there is a condition: Mr. Bell insists on a rematch of the Mr. Julius Caesar Contest “to reclaim his intellectual honor” with Mr. Hundert as Master of Ceremonies. Mr. Hundert accepts, of course, and the class reunion takes place over a weekend at an island resort, with no expense spared.

        The second night of the weekend, the rematch is held, with Mr. Masoudi, Mr. Mehta, and Mr. Bell once again donning togas and taking their places. This time Mr. Masoudi falls out on the first question; perhaps he thought the rematch should be between the two finalists who had squared off against each other all those years ago. Mr. Mehta and Mr. Bell put on impressive performances, but sometimes Mr. Bell hesitates and puts his hand on his temple. At one particularly tense moment, his eyes dart to the back of the room, and Mr. Hundert follows his gaze to where a graduate student with books is helping Sedgewick with the answers via an ear piece wirelessly connected to a microphone. Mr. Hundert is shaken and even stammers when asking Deepak the next question. Then, after Mr. Mehta answers the question, Mr. Hundert loudly asks Mr. Bell: Who is Shutruk-Nahunte? The graduate student is of course unable to answer that question, for almost nothing besides what was on that plaque above the door is known about him, and Mr. Bell, who has studied and only needed “help,” had not yet arrived at Saint Benedict’s all those years ago when the plaque was discussed. With Mr. Bell stumped, Mr. Hundert turns to Mr. Mehta who recites, “Shutruk-Nahunte, King of Anshand and Susa, Sovereign of the land of Elam,” winning the contest again. Mr. Bell congratulates Mr. Mehta and goes to the microphone and says graciously that if one is going to lose, one might as well lose to the brightest. He then adds that there is a more serious side to all this: Education. “Not just at places like Saint Benedict’s, not just for our children, but for the nation’s children” and then he shocks the crowd by announcing his bid for a seat in the United States Senate. As he receives congratulations all around, Mr. Hundert looks on in disbelief. No doubt he is wondering whether the whole rematch had been anything more than a gimmicky send-off for the campaign.

        Still shaken, an ashen Mr. Hundert retreats to the bathroom to wash his face and refresh himself when Mr. Bell walks in. Mr. Bell compliments Mr. Hundert on his performance that night, saying he gets better with age, like fine wine. These comments are no doubt sincere, because he had arranged a breakfast in his teacher’s honor the next morning, and because he shows a not-so-grudging admiration for Mr. Hundert throughout the rematch weekend. But as he is about to leave the bathroom, Mr. Hundert asks, “How long have you been hard of hearing, Sedgewick?” Mr. Bell replies to Mr. Hundert, “Very good, Mr. Hundert; very, very good; I thought you might have known.” He asks whether Mr. Hundert will again keep his secret, and the reply is

Am I going to go out there and expose you for a liar and a cheat? No. I’m a teacher, Sedgewick. I failed you as a teacher.  

But he gives Mr. Bell one last lecture: One day he will look at his life and see that he lived his life without virtue and without principle and for that he was to be pitied. Mr. Bell replies:

Who cares? I live in the real world. I do what I need to do to get what I want. And if that means lying and cheating to get it, so be it; I’m going to go out there and win that election and you’ll see me everywhere; I’ll worry about my “contribution” later.  

This is the same philosophy that had caused the young Sedgewick Bell years ago to mock Brutus and Socrates for “losing” because they had strong consciences. Apparently, as Mr. Bell told Mr. Ellerby, it was about reclaiming his intellectual honor, rather than about reclaiming his honor per se.

        In the scenes surrounding this conversation, reporters are always in the background, and Mr. Bell does nothing but talk of moral leadership and education. But Mr. Hundert has something more pressing to get off his chest. When Martin Blythe had not appeared the first evening for the introductory dinner, Mr. Hundert had presumed he might not make it at all. When he came the next day before the rematch, Mr. Hundert told Martin that he had always been a wonderful student—indeed, twenty-five plus years back he had been the student given to cautioning against pranks and urging study, although Mr. Hundert does not know this and that he had never quite given him his due. He recalls how good an essay of his on the five good emperors was. Martin responds that that is nonsense, that of course he had been given his due, more than his due, and he recalls the glowing recommendation Mr. Hundert had written for him. But after the rematch, Mr. Hundert’s conscience tugs harder; he gets up the courage to tell him:

Martin, that should have been you up there; all those years ago, you were a finalist; I gave your spot away.  

Mr. Blythe says he doesn’t know what to say, but does promise to be at the breakfast. We only learn at the very end of the film what his true feelings towards Mr. Hundert are now.

        In the person of Mr. Hundert, the film has found an eloquent spokesman for the value of the classics, for the value of Western Civilization, and for the belief that learning might change a man’s character for the better. The film also presents what the typical outcome of the upcoming form of affirmative action will be, particularly if the Supreme Court rules against the kind we have now in the Michigan cases: That form is to take persons disadvantaged by background—as opposed to race, gender, or even class—and give them the push above the more traditional student. Certainly, the studious Martin Blythe, son of one who excelled academically, who came from a good academic background, while Sedgewick Bell, son of one who at one point questions the good of what Mr. Hundert is teaching, and who is an absentee father with bad morals himself, came from a disadvantaged academic background, whatever else he might have had on his side. So, Mr. Bell was given the leg up. In the usual case, both typified and magnified by Mr. Bell, the student so pushed will not do any better, while the one pushed aside to give the other his place will be hurt, but will be neither irremediably hurt, nor likely angry—very different from the stereotype of the angry, white male portrayed in the media. The film also asserts the importance of the family and upbringing, reaffirmed by the ending of the film. The film also displays today’s typical politicians in the persons of Senator Bell and Senatorial-candidate Bell: windbags with little principle to moor them, whose main excellence, like the Sophists of ancient Greece, is the ability to dazzle folks, and bamboozle them at the same time. These men know what has to be done to win and winning and little else is what they care about. To Mr. Clinton who won election, reelection, and an impeachment battle, and to all others of his ilk, we say with Mr. Hundert: Great ambition and conquest without contribution is without significance. Nor does the film portray businessmen in this fashion. Although it is true that Mr. Bell is a very successful businessman, as Mr. Hundert remarks to his class at the opening night’s dinner: “You are now a veritable who’s who of American industry, law, finance, and,” turning to Deepak Mehta, “higher education.” None of these other successes are portrayed as in any way venal; the ending, in particular, is evidence to the contrary.

        I have told the story of Mr. Hundert, Mr. Bell, and the Mr. Julius Caesar contest, both times round, but there are still many reasons to rent or buy this film: I have not told you of Mr. Hundert’s disappointments and triumphs at love, nor have I told you of his disappointments and triumphs professionally. I have not told you of Mr. Bell’s relationship with his father, nor with his own family, nor of Mr. Hundert’s relationship with his father. Nor have I confided in you, dear reader, what comeuppance Mr. Bell might have received, and above all, I have not told you the glorious ending.     Ω