CÆSONIA: What you need, my dear, is a good, long sleep. Let yourself relax and, above all stop thinking. I’ll stay by you while you sleep. And when you wake, you’ll find the world’s got back its savor. Then you must use your power to good effect—for loving better what you still find lovable. For the possible, too, deserves to be given a chance.
CALIGULA: Ah but for that I’d need to sleep, to let myself go—and that’s impossible.
CÆSONIA: So one always thinks when one is overtired. A time comes when one’s hand is firm again.
CALIGULA: But one must know where to place it. And what’s the use to me of a firm hand, what use is the amazing power that’s mine, if I can’t have the sun set in the east, if I can’t reduce the sum of suffering and make an end of death? No, Cæsonia, it’s all one whether I sleep or keep awake, if I’ve no power to tamper with the scheme of things.
CÆSONIA: But that’s madness, sheer madness. It’s wanting to be a god on earth.
CALIGULA: So you, too, think I’m mad. And yet—what is a god that I should wish to be his equal? No, it’s something higher, far above the gods, that I’m aiming at, longing for with all my heart and soul. I am taking over a kingdom where the impossible is king.
CÆSONIA: You can’t prevent the sky from being the sky, or a fresh young face from aging, or a man’s heart from growing cold.
CALIGULA [with rising excitement]: I want … I want to drown the sky in the sea, to infuse ugliness with beauty, to wring a laugh from pain.
CÆSONIA [facing him with an imploring gesture]: There’s good and bad, high and low, justice and injustice. And I swear to you these will never change.
CALIGULA [in the same tone]: And I’m resolved to change them … I shall make this age of ours a kingly gift—the gift of equality. And when all is leveled out, when the impossible has come to earth and the moon is in my hands—then, perhaps, I shall be transfigured and the world renewed; then men will die no more and at last be happy.
CÆSONIA [with a little cry]: And love? Surely you won’t go back on love!
CALIGULA [in a wild burst of anger]: Love, Cæsonia! [He grips her shoulders and shakes her.] I’ve learned the truth about love; it’s nothing, nothing! That fellow was quite right—you heard what he said, didn’t you?—it’s only the Treasury that counts. The fountainhead of all. Ah, now at last I’m going to live, really live. And living, my dear, is the opposite of loving. I know what I’m talking about—and I invite you to the most gorgeous of shows, a sight for gods to gloat on, a whole world called to judgment. But for that I must have a crowd—spectators, victims, criminals, hundreds and thousands of them. [He rushes to the gong and begins hammering on it, faster and faster.] Let the accused come forward. I want my criminals, and they all are criminals. [Still striking the gong.] Bring in the condemned men. I must have my public. Judges, witnesses, accused—all sentenced to death without a hearing. Yes, Cæsonia, I’ll show them something they have never seen before, the one free man in the Roman Empire. [To the clangor of the gong the palace has been gradually filling with noises; the clash of arms, voices, footsteps slow or hurried, coming nearer, growing louder. Some soldiers enter, and leave hastily.] And you, Cæsonia, shall obey me. You must stand by me to the end. It will be marvelous, you’ll see. Swear to stand by me, Cæsonia.
CÆSONIA [wildly, between two gong strokes]: I needn’t swear. You know I love you.
CALIGULA [in the same tone]: You’ll do all I tell you.
CÆSONIA: All, all, Caligula—but do, please, stop.…
CALIGULA [still striking the gong]: You will be cruel.
CÆSONIA [sobbing]: Cruel.
CALIGULA [still beating the gong]: Cold and ruthless.
CÆSONIA: Ruthless.
CALIGULA: And you will suffer, too.
CÆSONIA: Yes, yes—oh, no, please … I’m—I’m going mad, I think! [Some patricians enter, followed by members of the palace staff. All look bewildered and perturbed. CALIGULA bangs the gong for the last time, raises his mallet, swings round and summons them in a shrill, half-crazy voice.]
CALIGULA: Come here. All of you. Nearer. Nearer still. [He is quivering with impatience.] Your Emperor commands you to come nearer. [They come forward, pale with terror.] Quickly. And you, Cæsonia, come beside me. [He takes her hand, leads her to the mirror, and with a wild sweep of his mallet effaces a reflection on its surface. Then gives a sudden laugh.] All gone. You see, my dear? An end of memories; no more masks. Nothing, nobody left. Nobody? No, that’s not true. Look, Cæsonia. Come here, all of you, and look …
[He plants himself in front of the mirror in a grotesque attitude.]
CÆSONIA [staring, horrified, at the mirror]: Caligula! [CALIGULA lays a finger on the glass. His gaze steadies abruptly and when he speaks his voice has a new, proud ardor.]
CALIGULA: Yes … Caligula.
CURTAIN
ACT II
Three years later.
A room in Cherea’s house, where the patricians have met in secret.
FIRST PATRICIAN: It’s outrageous, the way he’s treating us.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: He calls me “darling”! In public, mind you—just to make a laughingstock of me. Death’s too good for him.
FIRST PATRICIAN: And fancy making us run beside his litter when he goes into the country.
SECOND PATRICIAN: He says the exercise will do us good.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: Conduct like that is quite inexcusable.
THIRD PATRICIAN: You’re right. That’s precisely the sort of thing one can’t forgive.
FIRST PATRICIAN: He confiscated your property, Patricius. He killed your father, Scipio. He’s taken your wife from you, Octavius, and forced her to work in his public brothel. He has killed your son, Lepidus. I ask you, gentlemen, can you endure this? I, anyhow, have made up my mind. I know the risks, but I also know this life of abject fear is quite unbearable. Worse than death, in fact. Yes, as I said, my mind’s made up.
SCIPIO: He made my mind up for me when he had my father put to death.
FIRST PATRICIAN: Well? Can you still hesitate?
A KNIGHT: No. We’re with you. He’s transferred our stalls at the Circus to the public, and egged us on to fight with the rabble—just to have a pretext for punishing us, of course.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: He’s a coward.
SECOND PATRICIAN: A bully.
THIRD PATRICIAN: A buffoon.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: He’s impotent—that’s his trouble, I should say.
[A scene of wild confusion follows, weapons are brandished, a table is overturned, and there is a general rush toward the door. Just at this moment CHEREA strolls in, composed as usual, and checks their onrush.]
CHEREA: What’s all this about? Where are you going?
A PATRICIAN: To the palace.
CHEREA: Ah, yes. And I can guess why. But do you think you’ll be allowed to enter?
THE PATRICIAN: There’s no question of asking leave.
CHEREA: Lepidus, would you kindly shut that door? [The door is shut. CHEREA goes to the overturned table and seats himself on a corner of it. The others turn toward him.] It’s not so simple as you think, my friends. You’re afraid, but fear can’t take the place of courage and deliberation. In short, you’re acting too hastily.
A KNIGHT: If you’re not with us, go. But keep your mouth shut.
CHEREA: I suspect I’m with you. But make no mistake. Not for the same reasons.
A VOICE: That’s enough idle talk.
CHEREA [standing up]: I agree. Let’s get down to facts. But, first, let me make myself clear. Though I am with you, I’m not for you. That, indeed, is why I think you’re going about it the wrong way. You haven’t taken your enemy’s measure; that’s obvious, since you attribute petty motives to him. But there’s nothing petty about Caligula, and you’re riding for a fall. You’d be better placed to fight him if you would try to see him as he really is.
A VOICE: We see him as he is—a crazy tyrant.
CHEREA: No. We’ve had experience of mad emperors. But this one isn’t mad enough. And what I loathe in him is this: that he knows what he wants.
FIRST PATRICIAN: And we, too, know it; he wants to murder us all.
CHEREA: You’re wrong. Our deaths are only a side issue. He’s putting his power at the service of a loftier, deadlier passion; and it imperils everything we hold most sacred. True, it’s not the first time Rome has seen a man wielding unlimited power; but it’s the first time he sets no limit to his use of it, and counts mankind, and the world we know, for nothing. That’s what appalls me in Caligula; that’s what I want to fight. To lose one’s life is no great matter; when the time comes I’ll have the courage to lose mine. But what’s intolerable is to see one’s life being drained of meaning, to be told there’s no reason for existing. A man can’t live without some reason for living.
FIRST PATRICIAN: Revenge is a good reason.
CHEREA: Yes, and I propose to share it with you. But I’d have you know that it’s not on your account, or to help you to avenge your petty humiliations. No, if I join
