These are certainly “high astounding terms,” but doubt and fear are at work, and this Caesar’s long cogitations are very much like the whistling of a small boy to keep up his courage. When Decimus approaches, and informs him that the Senate is assembled, and awaits him, he says,
“Debbol dir, ò tacer? i preghi e i pianti Di mia mogliera avuto hanno possanza Di farmi variar proponimento; Oltre ch’io temo, e ’l mio timor fondato È, non sopra fallaci, e vani sogni, Ma sopra certi indizi, e chiari segni, Che sien ordite alla mia vita insidie.”—Page 95.
Here is a man who has just proudly exclaimed that fear was foreign to him, now confessing that he fears, and that his fears are founded not on vain dreams or portents, but upon substantial grounds. But what are the “certi indizi, e chiari segni” that threaten his well-being? The vague warnings of Antony? No more substantial grounds have been presented in the course of the drama. No conspirators have been named; Caesar, despite the talk regarding his conviction of impending disaster, is unsuspectingly conversing with one of the plotters. Are we to regard this lack of adequate reason for Caesar’s fears as a flaw in Pescetti’s technique? It must be remembered that Caesar ordered the fateful sacrifice, and that he himself confesses, in soliloquy, that Calpurnia’s unusual fear has disturbed him. But he dreads to ascribe his perturbation to the influence of the portents, and lays the emphasis upon a suspicion of treachery, which, as far as he had any personal knowledge, we know rested on the vaguest grounds. There is no fault in Pescetti’s motivation. He presents a Caesar, shaken by the very fears that assail baser men, but too proud to convey such an impression, fatuously trying to persuade himself that he is “constant as the northern star,” while he wavers like a weather-cock between his fear and his pride.
He listens to Decimus’ arguments. The latter, knowing how to “give his humor the true bent,” lays great stress on Rome’s indebtedness to the Dictator: what Roman could be so base as to contemplate his death?
_D. Brutus_— “. . . . . . . . e nondimeno Crederem, che si trovi alcun di cuore Così barbaro, e rio, così spietato Che pensi, non dirò, ch’ardisca, ò tenti Di privarti di vita? io non lo credo, Io non lo credo, nè che sia, ch’il creda, Credo, nè credo, che tu stesso il creda. E come io ti consiglio, ch’à guardarti La diligenza accresca; così voglio, Ch’ogni timor deponga, ogni sospetto, Acciocchè nulla nebbia offuschi, ò turbi Il seren del tuo petto, e acquetate, Dopo tanti travagli, e tante guerre Le cose, insieme con la patria goda Quella felicità, quella quiete, Ch’ognun del saggio tuo governo attende.”—Pp. 96–97.