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Subject Area: Literature
Debate: Cato and Caesar

ACT II. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. VIII The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Mérope, Olympia, The Orphan of China, Brutus) and Part II (Mahomet, Amelia, Oedipus, Mariamne, Socrates). [1901]

Edition used:

The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version. A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901). In 21 vols. Vol. VIII The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Mérope, Olympia, The Orphan of China, Brutus) and Part II (Mahomet, Amelia, Oedipus, Mariamne, Socrates).

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

About Liberty Fund:

Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.


ACT II.

SCENE I.

The scene represents an apartment in the palace of the consuls.

titus, messala.

messala.

  • No: ’tis unkind; it hurts my tender friendship:
  • He who but half unveils his secrets, tells
  • Too little or too much: dost thou suspect me?

titus.

  • Do not reproach me; my whole heart is thine.

messala.

  • Thou who so lately didst with me detest
  • The rigorous senate, and pour forth thy plaints
  • In anguish; thou who on this faithful bosom
  • Didst shed so many tears, couldst thou conceal
  • Griefs far more bitter, the keen pangs of love?
  • How could ambition quench the rising flame,
  • And blot out every tender sentiment?
  • Dost thou detest the hateful senate more
  • Than thou lovest Tullia?

titus.

  • O! I love with transport,
  • And hate with fury; ever in extreme;
  • It is the native weakness of my soul,
  • Which much I strive to conquer, but in vain.

messala.

  • But why thus rashly tear thy bleeding wounds?
  • Why weep thy injuries, yet disguise thy love?

titus.

  • Spite of those injuries, spite of all my wrongs,
  • Have I not shed my blood for this proud senate?
  • Thou knowest I have, and didst partake my glory;
  • With joy I told thee of my fair success;
  • It showed, methought, a nobleness of soul
  • To fight for the ungrateful, and I felt
  • The pride of conscious virtue: the misfortunes
  • We have o’ercome with pleasure we impart,
  • But few are anxious to reveal their shame.

messala.

  • Where is the shame, the folly, or disgrace:
  • And what should Titus blush at?

titus.

  • At myself:
  • At my fond foolish passion, that o’erpowers
  • My duty.

messala.

  • Are ambition then, and love,
  • Passions unworthy of a noble mind?

titus.

  • Ambition, love, resentment, all possess
  • The soul of Titus, and by turns inflame it:
  • These consul kings despise my youth; deny me
  • My valor’s due reward, the price of blood
  • Shed in their cause: then, midst my sorrows, seize
  • All I hold dear, and snatch my Tullia from me.
  • Alas! I had no hope, and yet my heart
  • Grows jealous now: the fire, long pent within,
  • Bursts forth with inextinguishable rage.
  • I thought it had been o’er; she parted from me,
  • And I had almost gained the victory
  • O’er my rebellious passion: but my race
  • Of glory now is run, and heaven has fixed
  • Its period here: Gods! that the son of Brutus,
  • The foe of kings, should ever be the slave
  • Of Tarquin’s race! nay, the ungrateful fair
  • Scorns to accept my conquered heart: I’m slighted;
  • Disdained on every side, and shame o’erwhelms me.

messala.

  • May I with freedom speak to thee?

titus.

  • Thou mayest;
  • Thou knowest I ever have revered thy prudence;
  • Speak therefore, tell me all my faults, Messala.

messala.

  • No: I approve thy love, and thy resentment:
  • Shall Titus authorize this tyrant senate,
  • These sons of arrogance? if thou must blush,
  • Blush for thy patience, Titus, not thy love.
  • Are these the poor rewards of all thy valor,
  • Thy constancy, and truth? a hopeless lover.
  • A weak and powerless citizen of Rome,
  • A poor state-victim, by the senate braved,
  • And scorned by Tullia: sure a heart like thine
  • Might find the means to be revenged on both.

titus.

  • Why wilt thou flatter my despairing soul?
  • Thinkest thou I ever could subdue her hate,
  • Or shake her virtue? ’tis impossible:
  • Thou seest the fatal barriers to our love,
  • Which duty and our fathers place between us:
  • But must she go?

messala.

  • This day, my lord.

titus.

  • Indeed!
  • But I will not complain: for heaven is just
  • To her deservings; she was born to reign.

messala.

  • Heaven had perhaps reserved a fairer empire
  • For beauteous Tullia, but for this proud senate,
  • But for this cruel war, nay but for Titus:
  • Forgive me, sir, you know the inheritance
  • She might have claimed; her brother dead, the throne
  • Of Rome had been her portion—but I’ve gone
  • Too far—and yet, if with my life, O Titus,
  • I could have served thee, if my blood—

titus.

  • No more:
  • My duty calls, and that shall be obeyed:
  • Man may be free, if he resolves to be so:
  • I own, the dangerous passion for a time
  • O’erpowered my reason; but a soldier’s heart
  • Braves every danger: love owes all his power
  • To our own weakness.

messala.

  • The ambassador
  • From Etruria is here: this honor, Sir—

titus.

  • O fatal honor! what would he with me?
  • He comes to snatch my Tullia from my sight;
  • Comes to complete the measure of my woes.

SCENE II.

titus. aruns.

aruns.

  • After my long and fruitless toils to serve
  • The state of Rome, and her ungrateful senate,
  • Permit me here to pay the homage due
  • To generous courage, and transcendent virtue;
  • Permit me to admire the gallant hero
  • Who saved his country on the brink of ruin:
  • Alas! thou hast deserved a fairer meed,
  • A cause more noble, and another foe;
  • Thy valor merited a better fate:
  • Kings would rejoice, and such I know there are,
  • To trust their empire with an arm like thine,
  • Who would not dread the virtues they admire,
  • Like jealous Rome and her proud senate: O!
  • I cannot bear to see the noble Titus
  • Serving these haughty tyrants; who, the more
  • You have obliged them, hate you more: to them
  • Your merit’s a reproach; mean vulgar souls,
  • Born to obey, they lift the oppressive hand
  • Against their great deliverer, and usurp
  • Their sovereign’s rights; from thee they should receive
  • Those orders which they give.

titus.

  • I thank you, Sir,
  • For all your cares, your kind regard for Titus,
  • And guess the cause: your subtle policy
  • Would wind me to your secret purposes,
  • And arm my rage against the commonweal;
  • But think not to impose thus on my frankness;
  • My heart is open, and abhors design:
  • The senate have misused me, and I hate them,
  • I ought to hate them; but I’ll serve them still:
  • When Rome engages in the common cause,
  • No private quarrels taint the patriot breast;
  • Superior then to party strife, we rush
  • United on against the general foe:
  • Such are my thoughts, and such they ever will be;
  • Thou knowest me now: or call it virtue in me,
  • Or call it partial fondness, what you please,
  • But, born a Roman, I will die for Rome,
  • And love this hard unjust suspicious senate,
  • More than the pomp and splendor of a court
  • Beneath a master, for I am the son
  • Of Brutus, and have graved upon my heart
  • The love of freedom, and the hate of kings.

aruns.

  • But does not Titus soothe his flattered heart
  • With fancied bliss, and visionary charms?
  • I too, my lord, though born within the sway
  • Of regal power, am fond of liberty;
  • You languish for her, yet enjoy her not.
  • Is there on earth, with all your boasted freedom,
  • Aught more despotic than a commonweal?
  • Your laws are tyrants; and their barbarous rigor
  • Deaf to the voice of merit, to applause,
  • To family, and fame, throws down distinction;
  • The senate grind you, and the people scorn;
  • You must affright them, or they will enslave you:
  • A citizen of Rome is ever jealous
  • Or insolent; he is your equal still,
  • Or still your foe, because inferior to you:
  • He cannot bear the lustre of high fortune;
  • Looks with an eye severe on every action;
  • In all the service you have done him, sees
  • Naught but the injury you have power to do;
  • And for the blood which you have shed for him,
  • You’ll be repaid at last with—banishment.
  • A court, I own’s a dangerous element,
  • And has its storms, but not so frequent; smooth
  • Its current glides, its surface more serene:
  • That boasted native of another soil,
  • Fair liberty, here sheds her sweetest flowers:
  • A king can love, can recompense your service,
  • And mingles happiness with glory; there
  • Cherished beneath the shade of royal favor,
  • Long mayest thou flourish, only serve a master,
  • And be thyself the lord of all beside:
  • The vulgar, ever to their sovereign’s will
  • Obedient, still respect and honor those
  • Whom he protects, nay love his very faults:
  • We never tremble at a haughty senate,
  • Or her harsh laws: O! would that, born as thou art,
  • To shine with equal lustre in a court
  • Or in a camp, thou wouldst but taste the charms
  • Of Tarquin’s goodness! for he loved thee, Titus,
  • And would have shared his fortunes with thee; then
  • Had the proud senate, prostrate at thy feet—

titus.

  • I’ve seen the court of Tarquin, and despise it:
  • I know I might have cringed for his protection,
  • Been his first slave, and tyrannized beneath him;
  • But, thanks to heaven, I am not fallen so low:
  • I would be great, but not by meanness rise
  • To grandeur: no, it never was my fate
  • To serve: I’ll conquer kings, do thou obey them.

aruns.

  • I must approve thy constancy; but think,
  • My lord, how Tarquin, in thy infant years,
  • Guided thy tender youth: he oft remembers
  • The pleasing office, and but yesterday,
  • Lamenting his lost son, and sad misfortunes,
  • “Titus,” said he, “was once my best support,
  • He loved us all, and he alone deserved
  • My kingdom and my daughter.”

titus.

  • Ha! his daughter!
  • Ye gods! my Tullia! O unhappy vows!

aruns.

  • Even now I carry her to Tarquin; him
  • Whom thou hast thus deserted, far from thee,
  • And from her country, soon must Tullia go;
  • Liguria’s king accepts of her in marriage:
  • Meantime thou, Titus, must obey the senate,
  • Oppress her father, and destroy his kingdom:
  • And may these vaulted roofs, these towers in flame,
  • And this proud capitol in ashes laid,
  • Like funeral torches, shine before your people,
  • To light the Roman senate to its grave.
  • Or serve to grace our happy Tullia’s nuptials!

SCENE III.

titus, messala.

titus.

  • Messala, in what anguish hath he left me!
  • Would Tarquin then have given her to my arms!
  • O cruel fate! and might I thus—O no,
  • Deceitful minister! thou camest to search
  • My foolish heart; alas! he saw too well,
  • Read in my eyes the dear destructive passion,
  • He knows my weakness, and returns to Tarquin
  • To smile at Titus, and insult his love:
  • And might I then have wedded her, possessed
  • That lovely maid, and spent a life of bliss
  • Within her arms, had heaven allotted me
  • So fair a fate! O I am doubly wretched.

messala.

  • Thou mightest be happy; Aruns would assist thee,
  • Trust me, he would, and second thy warm wishes.

titus.

  • No: I must bid adieu to my fond hopes;
  • Rome calls me to the capitol; the people
  • Who raised triumphal arches to my glory,
  • And love me for my labors past, expect me,
  • To take with them the inviolable oath,
  • The solemn pledge of sacred liberty.

messala.

  • Go then, and serve your tyrants.

titus.

  • I will serve them;
  • It is my duty, and I must fulfil it.

messala.

  • And yet you sigh.

titus.

  • ’Tis a hard victory.

messala.

  • And bought too dearly.

titus.

  • Therefore ’tis more glorious.
  • Messala, do not leave me in affliction.
  • [Exit Titus.

messala.

  • I’ll follow him, to sharpen his resentment,
  • And strike the envenomed dagger to his heart.

SCENE IV.

brutus, messala.

brutus.

  • Messala, stop; I’d speak with you.

messala.

  • With me?

brutus.

  • With you. A deadly poison late hath spread
  • Its secret venom o’er my house: my son,
  • Tiberius, is with jealous rage inflamed
  • Against his brother; it appears too plain;
  • Whilst Titus burns with most unjust resentment
  • Against the senate: the ambassador,
  • That shrewd Etruscan, has observed their weakness,
  • And doubtless profits by it: he has talked
  • To both: I dread the tongues of subtle statesmen,
  • Grown old in the chicanery of a court:
  • To-morrow he returns: a day’s too much
  • To give a traitor, and ofttimes is fatal:
  • Go thou, Messala, tell him he must hence
  • This day: I’ll have it so.

messala.

  • ’Tis prudent, Sir,
  • And I obey you.

brutus.

  • But this is not all:
  • My son, the noble Titus, loves thee well;
  • I know the power that sacred friendship hath
  • O’er minds like his; a stranger to distrust
  • Or diffidence, he yields his artless soul
  • To thy experience; and the more his heart
  • Relies on thee, the more may I expect,
  • That, able as thou art to guide his steps,
  • Thou wilt not turn them from the paths of virtue,
  • Or take advantage of his easy youth
  • To taint his guiltless heart with fond ambition.

messala.

  • That was even now the subject of our converse;
  • He strives to imitate his godlike sire;
  • Rome’s safety is the object of his care:
  • Blindly he loves his country, and his father.

brutus.

  • And so he ought; but above all, the laws;
  • To them he should be still a faithful slave;
  • Who breaks the laws, can never love his country.

messala.

  • We know his patriot zeal, and both have seen it.

brutus.

  • He did his duty.

messala.

  • Rome had done hers too,
  • If she had honored more so good a son.

brutus.

  • Messala, no: it suited not his age
  • To take the consulship; he had not even
  • The voice of Brutus: trust me, the success
  • Of his ambition would have soon corrupted
  • His noble mind, and the rewards of virtue
  • Had then become hereditary: soon
  • Should we have seen the base unworthy son
  • Of a brave father claim superior rank,
  • Unmerited, in sloth and luxury,
  • As our last Tarquin but too plainly proved.
  • How very seldom they deserve a crown
  • Who’re born to wear it! O! preserve us, heaven,
  • From such destructive vile abuse of power,
  • The nurse of folly, and the grave of virtue!
  • If thou indeed dost love my son, (and much
  • I hope thou dost) show him a fairer path
  • To glory; root out from his heart the pride
  • Of false ambition: he who serves the state
  • Is amply recompensed: the son of Brutus
  • Should shine a bright example to the world
  • Of every virtue: he is Rome’s support,
  • As such I look upon him; and the more
  • He has already done to serve his country,
  • The more I shall require of him hereafter.
  • Know then by what I wish the love I bear him,
  • Temper the heat of youth; to flatter Titus
  • Were death to him, and injury to Rome.

messala.

  • My lord, I am content to follow Titus,
  • To imitate his valor, not instruct him:
  • I have but little influence o’er your son;
  • But, if he deigns to listen to my counsels,
  • Rome soon will see how much he loves her glory.

brutus.

  • Go then, be careful not to soothe his errors;
  • For I hate tyrants much, but flatterers more.
  • [Exit Brutus.

SCENE V.

messala.

  • [Alone.
  • There’s not a tyrant more detestable,
  • More cruel than thy own relentless soul;
  • But I shall tread perhaps beneath my feet
  • The pride of all thy false insulting virtue:
  • Yes, thou Colossus, raised thus high above us
  • By a vile crowd, the thunder is prepared,
  • Soon shall it fall, and crush thee into ruin.

End of the Second Act.