Again, to Decius’ greeting Caesar replies:
“And you are come in very happy time,
To bear my greeting to the senators,
And tell them that I will not come to-day:
Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser:
I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius. Cal.— Say he is sick” (II., 11, 60).
Who has intimated that Caesar fears to come to the Senate? His expressions are plainly those of a man influenced by circumstances which he considers it derogatory to his own sense of superiority to acknowledge. His exaggerated self-consciousness is feverish; even as he speaks, he builds inferences which no one but himself could derive from the premises.[[85]] He knows he is not sick, nor that he looks as if he were sick; when Calpurnia tells Decius to plead his illness, he builds another inference:
Caes.— “Shall Caesar send a lie?
Have I in conquest stretch’d mine arm so far,
To be afeard to tell graybeards the truth?
Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.”
The very thought that anyone would suspect him of fear, and worse yet, of attempting to hide his fear in a falsehood, revolts him. An absolute exhibition of will is more becoming, and he feels it.
Dec.— “Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,
Lest I be laugh’d at when I tell them so.”
This request is dramatically effective: is it historically or dramatically true? Caesar has said nothing at which the Senate might laugh; the commands of a Dictator were dangerous subjects for mirth. His entourage were in no jocund mood after the Lupercalia.
Bru.— “I will do so; but, look you, Cassius,
The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden train.”[[86]]
Yet here is a proud conqueror, that lets an underling, although a friend, hint that his commands might be laughed at. True, Decius says, “Lest I be laughed at,” but to insult the messenger because of Caesar’s message, would surely be to scorn Caesar. Instead of the decisive, imperious command we should expect, we get a reiteration of a previous statement, and then the Dictator is lost in the man. For Decius’ private satisfaction, but by no means for his public announcement, Caesar confides his true reasons. Decius interprets the dream in a manner most soothing to Caesar’s vanity, and when he intimates that were some one to tell of this dream to the Senate, Caesar might become a laughing-stock and be accused of cowardice, the Dictator is vanquished; pride has conquered fear. Yet, mark, the dream was told to Decius as to a good friend, and in confidence. What right had he to assume that the dream would be told to the Senate? If it were told, he alone could be held responsible for its telling, since he alone, (besides Calpurnia), knew of it. Since when has the valiant Decius become a superior interpreter of dreams? Why should his explanations of a woman’s fancies have greater weight with Caesar than the solemn decision of the venerable college of augurs? Decius boasts his ability to oversway Caesar, but he succeeds only because the latter, as in “Cesare,” in his pride and vanity, is only too glad to seize an opportunity to silence his own apprehension, without compromise to his own exalted opinion of himself. He is blind to all other circumstances. This conception of the scene is the only one, which, to me at least, renders it dramatically satisfying.
Professor MacCallum,[[87]] of all the many commentators on this character, seems to have offered the most satisfactory interpretation. Caesar’s bearing certainly justifies this critic’s opinion, that, in a certain sense, he is playing a part and aping the immortal to be seen of men. As has been shown above, Pescetti’s entire treatment suggests the same conception. His Caesar, if we may overlook the omission of any mention of his physical failings, can be aptly characterized by Professor Dowden’s appraisal of the character in Shakespeare. “Julius Caesar appears in only three scenes of the play. In the first scene of the third act he dies. When he does appear, the poet seems anxious to insist upon the weakness rather than on the strength of Caesar. He is subject to the vain hopes and vain alarms of superstition. His manner of speech is pompous and arrogant. He accepts flattery as a right; he vacillates while professing unalterable constancy; he has lost in part his gift of perceiving facts and of dealing efficiently with men and events.”[[88]]