University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Cæsar, Anthony.
An.
Cæsar, yes, soon will Brutus come to thee
Within this very temple, where erewhile
Thou didst consent to hear and tolerate
His arrogant harangues. Ere long shalt thou
Hear him, since thus thou wilt, as man to man.

Cæ.
I hold myself for this to thee indebted;
'Twas not an easy undertaking now
To persuade Brutus to confer with me;
Nor had I dared to trust to any one
Except thyself an embassy like this.

An.
How much it grieves me, that to my entreaties
Inexorably deaf, thou dost persist
This Brutus to support! This is the first
Of all thy wishes, with which Anthony
Reluctantly complied. Yet in the guise
Of amity, and in thy name, I stoop'd
To supplicate him whom I know to be,
By certain proof, thy mortal enemy,
And whom as such I utterly abhor.

Cæ.
Many hate Cæsar; yet, one man alone
I deem a foe that's worthy of myself:
And he is Brutus.

An.
Thence, not Brutus only,
But Brutus first, the Cassii, and the Cimbri,
The Tullii, and so many more should die.

Cæ.
The more embitter'd, lofty, strong my foe,
So much more pleasure do I always take
In overcoming him; and oftentimes
More, than with arms, with pardon have I done this
To have recourse to reconciling words,
When I have power to arbitrate by force;
Persuade, convince, and captivate a heart
That swells with hate; to make that man my friend,
Whose very being I could crush to nought;
Ah, this against a worthy enemy,
This is the most illustrious revenge;
And it is mine.

An.
Let Cæsar learn to be
Great from himself alone; nature for this
Intended him: but how at once to make
Rome and himself secure, let him be taught
To-day by him who loves them both alike:
And above every man, that man am I.
I ne'er shall cease reminding thee, that if
Thou slay'st not Brutus, thou art herein check'd
More by thy vain and individual glory,
Than by thy real fondness for thy country;
And that thou manifestest little heed
For the security of both.

Cæ.
Would'st thou
Cæsar intimidate with base suspicion?

An.
If Cæsar will not for himself, for Rome
He might, and ought to tremble.

Cæ.
Cæsar ought
To die for glory, and for Rome; but never
To tremble for himself, never for her.
I in the camp the foes of Rome have conquer'd;
These were the only enemies of Cæsar.
'Mong those, who against her the sword unsheathed,
Was Brutus; I already, arms in hand,
Have, as a foe, o'ercome him, and e'en then
With the just sword of war I slew him not;
Now in the walls of Rome, oh heaven! unarm'd,
Shall I now cause him to be murder'd, I
With the insidious and guilty dagger,
Or with the unjust axe?—There is no cause,
That ever could to such an outrage goad me:
And even if I wish'd it; ... Ah! perhaps ...
I could not ... do it.—But yet finally,
To my so many triumphs, that o'er Brutus,
That also o'er the Parthians, are wanting:
The one shall be the instrument to the other.
I will make Brutus, at all risks, my friend.
At present more than every other object
The meditated vengeance for the death
Of murder'd Crassus, weighs upon my thoughts;
And in the enterprise, in which at once
The fame of Rome and Cæsar are involved,
Brutus may much assist me.

An.
Thy renown
Canst thou increase?

Cæ.
While there remains aught more
For me to do, I deem what I have done
A nothing: such my nature is.—'Gainst Parthia
An impulse irresistible impels me.
Shall Rome, while Cæsar lives, be ever conquer'd!
Ah! let him perish first a thousand times.
But while I fight in Asia, I ought not
To leave the city full of factious spirits,
And humours rankling and unreconciled;
Nor would I leave her full of blood and terror;
Though this may be the most effectual means
To render her submissive.—Brutus only
Can level all for me ...

An.
Then Anthony
Thou deem'st a thing of nought?

Cæ.
—Part of myself
Art thou in all my military projects:
Hence at my side still I wish thee to be
The terror of the Parthians. I propose
In other ways to avail myself of Brutus.

An.
I am prepared by every means to serve thee;
And this thou knowest. But thou art too blind
As respects Brutus.

Cæ.
He is far more blind
As respects me, perchance. But this, I hope,
Will be the day when I may undeceive him:
I'm forced to-day at least to make th'attempt.

An.
Behold him here.

Cæ.
Now leave me with him; soon
Hence will I come to thee.

An,
Ah, mayest thou
Completely extricate thyself from error;
And him in time, too, thoroughly detect.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Brutus, Cæsar.
Bru.
Oh Cæsar, we are ancient foes: but thou
Art hitherto the conqueror; and yet
Thou seem'st the happier. But I am still
Than thou less wretched, though I seem the conquer'd.
But whate'er be our state, o'erwhelm'd, oppress'd,
Conquer'd, infirm, exanimate is Rome.
An equal impulse, though from different motives,
Has hither brought us to confer together.
Thou hast important things to say to me
If Anthony speak the truth; and also I
Come to impart to thee important things,
If thou dare listen to them.

Cæ.
Although Brutus
Hath ever been my foe, I ne'er was such,
Nor am I now to him; nor, if I would,
Could I be ever so. I to thy dwelling
Would have myself repair'd to speak with thee;
But I shrunk back lest it might be by thee
Deem'd an indignity, if Cæsar dared
To go, where, as the wife of Brutus, dwells
The sister of great Cato: hence I sent
Earnest entreaties to thyself to come
Hither from thence.—Me, without any pomp
Thou seest alone, by lictors not preceded;
In all thy equal, Brutus; if indeed
Thou scorn me not as such. Here thou wilt hear
Nor Rome's dictator, nor the conqueror
Of the illustrious Pompey ...

Bru.
The only train
Not unbecoming Cæsar is his valour:
And more especially when he presents
Himself to Brutus.—Happy thou, if thou
Could'st also leave behind thee, as thou canst
Thy lictors, and their fasces, the remorse,
And the perpetual and cleaving terror,
Of a perpetual dictator!

Cæ.
Terror? ...
This is a word not even to my ears,
Much less then to my heart, yet known.

Bru.
It was
Unknown to mighty Cæsar in the camp,
Invincible as a leader; it is not
To Cæsar in the walls of Rome, by force
Now her dictator. To deny this to me
Cæsar is too magnanimous: to me
He may confess it without shame. To dare
T'acknowledge this to Brutus, in itself
Will constitute no small part of his greatness.
Let us speak frankly: it becomes us both.—
One individual never can impress
A multitude with fear, till he himself
Has previously felt it. To prove this,
Hear what is now thy state of mind towards me.
Thou without opposition may'st kill Brutus:
Thou knowest that I love thee not; nay more,
Thou knowest I may be an obstacle
To thy iniquitous ambition; yet,
Why dost thou not do this? Because thou fearest,
That if thou kill'd me now it might increase
Thy own perplexities. Thou would'st meanwhile,
Hear me, and speak with me; because that fear
Is now thy only law; nor this perchance
Thou know'st thyself; or flyest the conviction.

Cæ.
Ungrateful! ... In Pharsalia's field was not
Thy life within my power?

Bru.
But thou inflamed
With glory, and yet glowing from the battle,
Wert noble then; and thou wert born to be so;
But thou from day to-day here more and more
Sinkest beneath thyself.—Reform, and know
That thou wert never born to be a cold,
Pacific tyrant: I affirm it to thee ...

Cæ.
Thy praise, though mix'd with insults, pleases me.
I love thee; I esteem thee: and I would
Be Brutus only, if I were not Cæsar.

Bru.
Thou may'st be both; to Brutus may'st thou add,
And nothing take from Cæsar: I come to thee
Myself, t'exhort thee to it. It depends
On thyself only to be great indeed:
Yes, thou may'st be so, even far beyond
Each ancient mighty Roman: and the means
Are very simple; dare to adopt them then:
I first to this conjure thee; and I feel,
As I address thee, with true Roman tears
Mine eyes suffused ... But, ah! thou speakest not?
Thou know'st well what my lofty means would be:
Thou feel'st it in thy heart, the cry of truth,
That there imperiously fulminates.
Be bold, be bold; shake off thy abject chains,
That make thee nothing e'en in thine own eyes;
Which keep thee, more than others thou could'st keep,
Enslaved and bound. To-day from Brutus thou
Learn to be Cæsar. If of thy renown
I were invidious, would'st thou hear me now
Beseech thee to annihilate my own?
I know the truth; I flatter not myself:
I am in Rome inferior to thee
In dignity, in years, in power, and triumphs,
As well as fame. If by my single efforts
The name of Brutus could be signalized,
'Twere only possible for this to be
By the entire destruction of thy name.
A timid and a whispering voice I hear,
A voice thence not legitimately Roman,
Proclaiming Brutus Rome's deliverer,
As it calls thee her tyrant. It is needful
To make me such, that I defeat, or slay thee.
No light achievement is the first; the second
Is far more easy than thou canst believe:
And if I had thought of myself alone,
I had already been without a master:
But I, a Roman, think of Rome; and chuse
Thee to solicit, when I ought to slay thee,
For her sake only.—Yes, ah Cæsar, thou
Convinced by me, should'st be compell'd once more
To be her citizen. To Rome thou canst,
Thou first, thou only, more effectually
A thousand times, than Brutus can, thou canst
To Rome restore the whole; peace, liberty,
Salvation, and a renovated lustre,
In short, as much as thou hast taken from her.
Yet, for a little time, thy royal power
Do thou, though as a citizen, exert,
In reinforcing her enfeebled laws,
In taking evermore from all the courage,
And means to imitate thee as a tyrant;
And thou wilt thus at once from all have taken,
As far as they are Romans, the presumption
To emulate thee as a citizen.—
Now, tell me; dost thou think thou art less than Sylla?
He, far more guilty than thyself, more cruel,
Embrued, and gorged with more abundant blood,
He, yet presumed to be a citizen,
And was illustrious.—Oh! how much more so
Would Cæsar be, who has so much surpass'd
Sylla in power! Greater, far greater then
Would be thy glory, if thou freely render,
What power and artifice have given to thee,
To her, thy country, whose sole right it is;
If thou knowest better how to prize thyself;
If thou, in short, preventest that henceforth
In Rome to all eternity arise
Another Cæsar, and another Sylla.

Cæ.
—Sublime and ardent youth; thy eloquent
And fervid exhortation, is, perchance,
But too, too true. Thy sentiments produce
Unspeakable emotions in my heart;
And then when thou call'st thyself less than me,
Thy great superiority I feel
E'en to my own confusion. But to be
The first myself to confess this to thee,
And not to be offended when I do it,
And not to hate thee for it, ought to be
To thee a certain, and a lofty proof
That in my bosom I conceive for thee
Some unexplain'd affection.—Thou art dear
To me, believe it; thou art very dear.
That which I have not time to accomplish now,
I will that, after me, it be by thee
Accomplish'd more effectively. Consent
That to my many trophies I annex
Those of the vanquish'd Parthians, and I die
Contented. Great part of my life have I
Pass'd in the camp: the camp alone would be
To me a worthy tomb. 'Tis true, I've robb'd her
In part, of freedom, but in more abundance
I have increased for Rome her power and glory.
Oh Brutus, at my death, thou wilt repair,
Beneath the shadow of my victories,
The wrongs which I have done to her. In me
With safety Rome no longer can repose.
The good which I would do to her, would be,
By what I've done of evil, evermore
Tarnish'd and poison'd.—Thence I've chosen thee
As the physician in my secret thoughts,
For her internal wounds: thou ever wert
Upright and great; and better than myself,
The Romans thou canst make illustrious:
And thou, their perfect sanity restore.
I, as a father, speak for thee; ... and thou,
More than a son, oh Brutus, art to me.

Bru.
... This thy discourse I scarcely comprehend.
To me in no wise justly can devolve
Thy illegitimate, extinguish'd power.
But what? Already speakest thou of Rome,
As a paternal heritage? ...

Cæ.
Ah! hear me.—I
From thee no longer can a subject hide,
Which, when once known to thee, entirely ought
To change thee in my favour.

Bru.
Change thyself,
And I at once am changed; conquer thyself;
The only triumph that remains for thee ...

Cæ.
With different eyes, when thou hast heard this secret,
Wilt thou behold me.

Bru.
I shall ever be
A Roman. But explain thyself.

Cæ.
... Oh Brutus,
In my deportment towards thee, in my looks,
And in my accents, in my very silence,
Say, dost thou not perceive that towards thyself
Boundless affections influence and transport me?

Bru.
I see in thee I know not what emotion;
And from the man they rather seem to spring
Than from the tyrant: feign'd, I cannot think them;
Unfeign'd, to what I know not to impute them.

Cæ.
... But thou, what impulses dost thou experience,
Towards me within thy bosom?

Bru.
Ah, a thousand!
And for thyself alternately I prove
All impulses, save envy. I know not
How to express them; but in two I class them:
Anger and horror, if thou'rt still a tyrant;
If thou becom'st a man and citizen,
Thou dost inspire me with unbounded love
Mix'd with astonishment. Which of these two
Would'st thou from Brutus?

Cæ.
Love. To me thou ow'st it ...
A sacred, and indissoluble tie
Binds thee to me.

Bru.
To thee? What can this be? ...

Cæ.
Thou art my son.

Bru.
Oh heaven! What do I hear? ...

Cæ.
Ah, come, son, to my breast ...

Bru.
Can it be so? ...

Cæ.
If thou believ'st this not from my report,
Thou from thy mother surely wilt believe it.
This is a letter from her; in Pharsalia,
A few hours ere the battle, I received it.
Behold; her hand is known to thee: peruse it!

Bru.
(Reads the letter.)
“Cæsar, oh heaven! thou dost perhaps prepare,
“Not only with thy fellow citizens,
“And Pompey to wage war, but with thy son.
“Brutus is th'offspring of our youthful loves.
“I am constrain'd to make this known to thee;
“To this confession nothing could have wrought me
“Except a mother's fears. Thou shudderest, Cæsar;
“Suspend, if time be yet allow'd, thy sword:
“Thou by thy son may'st be destroy'd; or thou
“Thyself with thy own hand may'st slay thy son.
“I tremble ... Oh may heaven grant that in time
“A father may have heard my word! ... I tremble ...
“Servilia.”—Fierce and unexpected blow!
The son of Cæsar, I?

Cæ.
Ah yes! thou art.
Come to my arms, ah come!

Bru.
Oh Rome! ... oh father! ...
Oh nature! ... oh my duty! ... —Ere I clasp thee,
See, at thy feet a suppliant Brutus falls.
Nor will he rise, if he do not embrace
In thee the father of himself ... and Rome.

Cæ.
Ah, rise, oh son!—how canst thou ever thus
With such ferocious coldness freeze thy heart,
That nature's first affections sway thee not?

Bru.
And what, dost thou pretend to love thy son?
Thou lov'st thyself; all feelings in thy heart
Are to the love of rule alone subservient.
Prove that thou art a citizen and father;
The last a tyrant never is: ah prove
That thou art such, and thou wilt find in me
A son. Twice give me life: Brutus a slave
Can never be; tyrant he will not be.
Or Brutus is the son of a free father,
Himself free also, in free Rome; or Brutus
Will not exist. I'm ready to shed all
My blood for Rome, and for thyself, if thou
A Roman be, a father worthy Brutus ...
Oh joy! a noble tear do I behold
Start from thine eye? The icy crust is snapp'd
In which thy heart was cased; thou'rt now a father.
Ah! hear thou by my lips the cry of nature;
And Rome and Brutus shall for thee be one.

Cæ.
... My heart thou rendest ... Fierce necessity! ...
I cannot now exclusively obey
The emotions of my heart. Beloved Brutus,
Hear me. Too far the servitude of Rome
Is now advanced; with less of equity,
And with more injury to herself, will others
The reins of empire sieze upon, if now
Brutus refuse them from the hands of Cæsar ...

Bru.
Oh trait'rous words! Oh infamous expressions
Of a corrupted and degenerate mind!
To me thou never wert, nor art a father.
Ere thou revealed'st thy ignoble heart,
And my vile birth to me, had thy own hands
Cut short my thread of life, that act had been
Of kindness more expressive ...

Cæ.
Oh my son! ...

Bru.
Oh Cæsar, yield ...

Cæ.
Unnatural, ... ungrateful ...
What then wilt thou perform?

Bru.
Or rescue Rome,
Or in the attempt expire.

Cæ.
I will reclaim thee,
Or perish by thy hands. Unparallel'd
And horrible is thy ingratitude ...
Yet, hence I hope that horror and repentance
Will visit thee, or ere to-morrow's dawn
Shall see us in the senate house convened.
But if thou then, ungrateful! still persist
Not to accept me for a father, then,
If, as a son, thou still disdain to share
With me the whole, on that same dawn shalt thou
Find me again thy lord.

Bru.
Ere then, I hope,
The horror and the shame to have found thyself
A tyrant to no purpose, will have changed thee
To a true father. In my breast at once
The affection of a son cannot arise,
If first thou do not give to me a proof
Sublime and strong of thy paternal love.
A father's is the first of all affections;
And in thy heart it ought to conquer. Then
The most submissive, the most tender son,
The most affectionate that e'er was seen,
Then wilt thou find in me ... In being thy son
What joy then, what devotion, and what pride,
Oh father, shall I feel! ...

Cæ.
Thou art my son,
Whatever I may be; nor e'er canst thou,
Without being impious, strive against thy father ...

Bru.
My name is Brutus; and to me is Rome
A sublime mother! Ah, compel me not
To deem that Roman Brutus, who gave life
And liberty to Rome at the expense
Of his own children's blood, my only father.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Cæsar.
Cæ.
Ah, wretched me! ... And can it then be true,
That, while I fetter all the conquer'd world,
My son alone refuses to obey me?