Part 27 (2/2)
”I antic.i.p.ate no such proceeding,” said Caesar, dryly, in an accent of infinite contempt. Then turning to Drusus, he entirely changed his intonation.
”So long,” he said, with a shrug of his rather slight shoulders, ”we have talked of comitias and senates! Praise to the G.o.ds, all life is not pa.s.sed in the Forum or Curia! And now, my dear Quintus, let us put aside those tedious matters whereof we all three have talked and thought quite enough, and tell me of yourself; for, believe me, our friends.h.i.+p would be one-sided indeed, if all your trouble and exertion went for me, and you received no solicitude in return.”
And Drusus, who had at first found his words coming awkwardly enough, presently grew fluent as he conversed with the proconsul. He told of his student days at Athens, of his studies of rhetoric and philosophy, of his journey back to Praeneste, and the incidents of the sea voyage, and land travel; of his welcome at Praeneste by the old retainers and the familia of the Drusi, and then of his recent political work at Rome.
”These have been the chief events of my life, Caesar,” he concluded, ”and since you have condescended to hear, I have ventured to tell; but why need I ask if such a commonplace tale of a young man who has yet his life to live, should interest you?”
Caesar smiled, and laying down the beaker from which he was sipping very slowly, replied:--
”_Mehercle!_ And do you wish to have all your exploits crowded into a few short years of youth, that mature age will have nothing to surpa.s.s? Listen,--I believe that when the historians, by whom our dear Cicero is so anxious to be remembered favourably, write their books, they will say something of my name,--good or bad, the Genius knows,--but fame at least will not be denied me. Twelve years ago when I was in Spain I was reading in some book of the exploits of Alexander the Great. Suddenly it seemed as though I could not control myself. I began to weep; and this was the explanation I gave to my friends, 'I have just cause to weep, when I consider that Alexander at my age had conquered so many nations, and I have all this time done nothing that is memorable.'”
”But even when your excellency went into Spain,” remarked Drusus, ”you had done that which should have given renown. Consider, you had won the praetors.h.i.+p, the office of Pontifex Maximus--”
”_St_,” interrupted the proconsul, ”a list of t.i.tles is not a pledge from Fortune that she will grant fame. Besides, I was about to add--what folly it was for me to weep! Do I imagine now, that Alexander was happy and contented in the midst of his conquests?
Rather, unless he were, indeed, of more than mortal stuff, for every morsel of fame, he paid a talent of care and anxiety. Rush not too quickly after fame; only with age comes the strength to pay the price thereof.”
Drusus was half wondering at, half admiring, the unconscious comparison the proconsul was drawing between himself and Alexander.
But Caesar went on:--
”But you, O Drusus, have not dealt honestly with me, in that you have failed to tell that which lies nearest your heart, and which you consider the pivot of all your present life.”
Drusus flushed. ”Doubtless, your excellency will pardon a young man for speaking with diffidence on a subject, to recollect which is to cause pain.”
Caesar put off the half-careless air of the good-natured wit, which he had been affecting.
”Quintus Livius Drusus,” and as he spoke, his auditor turned as if magnetized by his eye and voice, and hung on every word, ”be not ashamed to own to me, of all men, that you claim a good woman's love, and for that love are ready to make sacrifice.”
And as if to meet a flitting thought in the other's mind, Caesar continued:--
”No, blush not before me, although the fas.h.i.+onable world of Rome will have its stories. I care not enough for such gossip to take pains to say it lies. But this would I have declared, when at your age, and let all the world hear, that I, Caius Caesar, loved honourably, purely, and worthily; and for the sake of that love would and did defy death itself.”
The proconsul's pale face flushed with something very akin to pa.s.sion; his bright eyes were more l.u.s.trous than ever.
”I was eighteen years old when I married Cornelia, the daughter of Cinna, the great leader of the 'Populares.' Sulla, then dictator, ordered me to put her away. Cornelia had not been the wife of my father's choice. He had wished to force upon me Cossutia, an heiress, but with little save riches to commend her. I gained neither riches, political influence, nor family good-will by the marriage. Sulla was in the fulness of his strength. I had seen nearly all my friends proscribed, exiled, or murdered. Sulla bade me put away my wife, and take such a one as he should appoint. He was graciously pleased to spare my life, in order that I might become his tool. Why did I refuse?”
Caesar was sitting upon the couch and speaking nervously, in a manner that betokened great and unusual excitement.
”I knew the dictator meant to favour me if I would only humour him in this matter. A word from him and all ambition of mine had probably been at an end, I take no praise to myself for this. I refused him. I defied his threats. He seized my property, deprived me of my priesthood,[125] finally let loose his pack of a.s.sa.s.sins upon me. I almost became their victim. But my uncle, Aurelius Cotta, and some good friends of mine among the Vestal Virgins pleaded my cause. I escaped. Sulla said he was over-persuaded in sparing me; 'In me were many Mariuses.' But did I regret the loss, the danger, the check for the time being to my career? Quintus Drusus, I counted them as of little importance, not to be weighed beside the pure love that mastered me. And as the faithful husband of my Cornelia I remained, until cruel death closed her dear eyes forever. One can love once, and honourably, with his whole being, but not truly and honourably love a second time, at least not in a manner like unto the first. Therefore, my Quintus, blush not to confess that which I know is yours,--a thing which too many of us Romans do not know in these declining days,--something that would almost convince me there were indeed celestial G.o.ds, who care for us and guide our darkened destinies. For when we reason of the G.o.ds, our reason tells us they are not. But when pure pa.s.sion possesses our hearts, then we see tangible visions, then our dreams become no dreams but realities; we mount up on wings, we fly, we soar to Olympus, to Atlantis, to the Elysian fields; we no longer wish to know, we feel; we no longer wish to prove, we see; and what our reason bids us to reject, a surer monitor bids us to receive: the dangers and perils of this life of shades upon the earth are of no account, for we are transformed into immortals in whose veins courses the divine ichor, and whose food is ambrosial. Therefore while we love we do indeed dwell in the Islands of the Blessed: and when the vision fades away, its sweet memory remains to cheer us in our life below, and teach us that where the cold intellect may not go, there is indeed some way, on through the mists of the future, which leads we know not whither; but which leads to things purer and fairer than those which in our most ambitious moments we crave.”
[125] Marius had made young Caesar, Flamen Dialis: priest of Jupiter.
The voice of the conqueror of Gaul and German sank with a half tremor; his eye was moist, his lips continued moving after his words had ceased to flow. Drusus felt himself searched through and through by glance and speech. Was the proconsul a diviner to find all that was deepest in his soul and give it an utterance which Drusus had never expressed even to himself? The young man was thrilled, fascinated. And Caesar, in quite another tone, recovered himself and spoke.
”Wherefore, O Drusus! be ashamed to tell how the Lady Cornelia loves you and you love her? What if the grim old consul-elect, like the jealous elder in the comedy, will stand in your way! _Phui!_ What are the complaints, threats, and prohibitions of such as he? At present, the wind blows from his quarter, but it will not be ever so. Either Lentulus will be in no place to hinder you before long, or we all shall be beyond caring for his triumph or failure.”
”Your excellency bids me hope!” cried Drusus.
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