CALIGULA: True enough. But why risk your life by telling me this?
CHEREA: Because others will take my place, and because I don’t like lying.
[A short silence.]
CALIGULA: Cherea!
CHEREA: Yes, Caius?
CALIGULA: Do you think that two men of similar temperament and equal pride can, if only once in their lives, open their hearts to each other?
CHEREA: That, I believe, is what we’ve just been doing.
CALIGULA: Yes, Cherea. But you thought I was incapable of it.
CHEREA: I was wrong, Caius. I admit it, and I thank you. Now I await your sentence.
CALIGULA: My sentence? Ah, I see. [Producing the tablet from under his cloak.] You know what this is, Cherea?
CHEREA: I knew you had it.
CALIGULA [passionately]: You knew I had it! So your frankness was all a piece of play acting. The two friends did not open their hearts to each other. Well, well! It’s no great matter. Now we can stop playing at sincerity, and resume life on the old footing. But first I’ll ask you to make just one more effort; to bear with my caprices and my tactlessness a little longer. Listen well, Cherea. This tablet is the one and only piece of evidence against you.
CHEREA: Caius, I’d rather go. I’m sick and tired of all these antics. I know them only too well, and I’ve had enough. Let me go, please.
CALIGULA [in the same tense, passionate voice]: No, stay. This tablet is the only evidence. Is that clear?
CHEREA: Evidence? I never knew you needed evidence to send a man to his death.
CALIGULA: That’s true. Still, for once I wish to contradict myself. Nobody can object to that. It’s so pleasant to contradict oneself occasionally; so restful. And I need rest, Cherea.
CHEREA: I don’t follow … and, frankly, I’ve no taste for these subtleties.
CALIGULA: I know, Cherea, I know. You’re not like me; you’re an ordinary man, sound in mind and body. And naturally you’ve no desire for the extraordinary. [With a burst of laughter] You want to live and to be happy. That’s all!
CHEREA: I think, Caius, we’d better leave it at that.… Can I go?
CALIGULA: Not yet. A little patience, if you don’t mind—I shall not keep you long. You see this thing—this piece of evidence? I choose to assume that I can’t sentence you to death without it. That’s my idea … and my repose. Well! See what becomes of evidence in an emperor’s hands. [He holds the tablet to a torch. CHEREA approaches. The torch is between them. The tablet begins to melt.] You see, conspirator! The tablet’s melting, and as it melts a look of innocence is dawning on your face. What a handsome forehead you have, Cherea! And how rare, how beautiful a sight is an innocent man! Admire my power. Even the gods cannot restore innocence without first punishing the culprit. But your emperor needs only a torch flame to absolve you and give you a new lease of hope. So carry on, Cherea; follow out the noble precepts we’ve been hearing, wherever they may take you. Meanwhile your emperor awaits his repose. It’s his way of living and being happy.
[CHEREA stares, dumfounded, at CALIGULA. He makes a vague gesture, seems to understand, opens his mouth to speak—and walks abruptly away. Smiling, holding the tablet to the flame, CALIGULA follows the receding figure with his gaze.]
CURTAIN
ACT IV
A room in the imperial palace.
The stage is in semidarkness. CHEREA and SCIPIO enter. CHEREA crosses to the right, then comes back left to SCIPIO.
SCIPIO [sulkily]: What do you want of me?
CHEREA: There’s no time to lose. And we must know our minds, we must be resolute.
SCIPIO: Who says I’m not resolute?
CHEREA: You didn’t attend our meeting yesterday.
SCIPIO [looking away]: That’s so, Cherea.
CHEREA: Scipio, I am older than you, and I’m not in the habit of asking others’ help. But, I won’t deny it, I need you now. This murder needs honorable men to sponsor it. Among all these wounded vanities and sordid fears, our motives only, yours and mine, are disinterested. Of course I know that, if you leave us, we can count on your silence. But that is not the point. What I want is—for you to stay with us.
SCIPIO: I understand. But I can’t, oh, no, I cannot do as you wish.
CHEREA: So you are with him?
SCIPIO: No. But I cannot be against him. [Pauses; then in a muffled voice] Even if I killed him, my heart would still be with him.
CHEREA: And yet—he killed your father!
SCIPIO: Yes—and that’s how it all began. But that, too, is how it ends.
CHEREA: He denies what you believe in. He tramples on all that you hold sacred.
SCIPIO: I know, Cherea. And yet something inside me is akin to him. The same fire burns in both our hearts.
CHEREA: There are times when a man must make his choice. As for me, I have silenced in my heart all that might be akin to him.
SCIPIO: But—I—I cannot make a choice. I have my own sorrow, but I suffer with him, too; I share his pain. I understand all—that is my trouble.
CHEREA: So that’s it. You have chosen to take his side.
SCIPIO [passionately]: No, Cherea. I beg you, don’t think that. I can never, never again take anybody’s side.
CHEREA [affectionately; approaching SCIPIO]: Do you know, I hate him even more for having made of you—what he has made.
SCIPIO: Yes, he has taught me to expect everything of life.
CHEREA: No, he has taught you despair. And to have instilled despair into a young heart is fouler than the foulest of the crimes he has committed up to now. I assure you, that alone would justify me in killing him out of hand.
[He goes toward the door. HELICON enters.]
HELICON: I’ve been hunting for you high and low, Cherea. Caligula’s giving a little party here, for his personal friends only. Naturally he expects you to attend it. [To SCIPIO] You, my boy, aren’t wanted. Off you go!
SCIPIO [looking back at CHEREA as he goes out]: Cherea.
CHEREA [gently]: Yes, Scipio?
SCIPIO: Try to understand.
CHEREA [in the same gentle tone]: No, Scipio.
[SCIPIO and HELICON go out. A clash of arms in the wings. Two soldiers enter at right, escorting the OLD PATRICIAN and the FIRST PATRICIAN, who show signs of alarm.]
FIRST PATRICIAN [to one of the soldiers, in a tone which he vainly tries to steady]: But … but what can he want with us at this hour of the night?
SOLDIER: Sit there. [Points to the chairs on the right.]
FIRST PATRICIAN: If it’s only to have us killed—like so many others—why all these preliminaries?
SOLDIER: Sit down, you old mule.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: Better do as he says. It’s clear he doesn’t know anything.
SOLDIER: Yes, darling, quite clear. [Goes out.]
FIRST PATRICIAN: We should have acted sooner; I always said so. Now we’re in for the torture chamber.
[The SOLDIER comes back with CHEREA, then goes out.]
CHEREA [seating himself. He shows no sign of apprehension]: Any idea what’s happening?
FIRST PATRICIAN AND THE OLD PATRICIAN [speaking together]: He’s found out about the conspiracy.
CHEREA: Yes? And then?
THE OLD PATRICIAN [shuddering]: The torture chamber for us all.
CHEREA [still unperturbed]: I remember that Caligula once gave eighty-one thousand sesterces to a slave who, though he was tortured nearly to death, wouldn’t confess to a theft he had committed.
FIRST PATRICIAN: A lot of consolation that is—for us!
CHEREA: Anyhow, it shows that he appreciates courage. You ought to keep that in mind. [To the OLD PATRICIAN] Would you very much mind not chattering with your teeth? It’s a noise I particularly dislike.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: I’m sorry, but—
FIRST PATRICIAN: Enough trifling! Our lives are at stake.
CHEREA [coolly]: Do you know Caligula’s favorite remark?
THE OLD PATRICIAN [on the verge of tears]: Yes. He says to the executioner: “Kill him slowly, so that he feels what dying’s like!”
CHEREA: No, there’s a better one. After an execution he yawns, and says quite seriously: “What I admire most is my imperturbability.”
FIRST PATRICIAN: Do you hear …?
[A clanking of weapons is heard off stage.]
CHEREA: That remark betrays a weakness in his make-up.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: Would you be kind enough to stop philosophizing? It’s something I particularly dislike.
[A slave enters and deposits a sheaf of knives on a seat.]
CHEREA [who has not noticed him]: Still, there’s no denying it’s remarkable, the effect this man has on all with whom he comes in contact. He forces one to think. There’s nothing like insecurity for stimulating the brain. That, of course, is why he’s so much hated.
THE OLD PATRICIAN [pointing a trembling finger]: Look!
CHEREA [noticing the knives, in a slightly altered tone]: Perhaps you were right.
FIRST PATRICIAN: Yes, waiting was a mistake. We should have acted at once.
CHEREA: I agree. Wisdom’s come too late.
THE OLD PATRICIAN: But it’s … it’s crazy. I don’t want to die.
[He rises and begins to edge away. Two soldiers appear, and, after slapping his face, force him back onto his seat. The FIRST PATRICIAN squirms in his chair. CHEREA utters some inaudible words. Suddenly a queer music begins behind the curtain at the back of the stage; a thrumming and tinkling of zithers and cymbals. The patricians gaze at each other in silence. Outlined on the illuminated curtain, in shadow play, CALIGULA appears, makes some grotesque dance movements, and retreats from view. He is wearing ballet dancer’s skirts and his head is garlanded with flowers. A moment later a SOLDIER announces gravely: “Gentlemen, the performance is over.” Meanwhile CÆSONIA has entered soundlessly behind the watching patricians. She speaks in an ordinary voice, but none the less they give a start on hearing it.]
CÆSONIA: Caligula has instructed me to tell you
