In these moments, and with this spectacle before him, and contemplating
these immeasurable consequences consciously for the last time that could
allow him a retreat,--impressed also by the solemnity and deep
tranquillity of the silent dawn, whilst the exhaustion of his night
wanderings predisposed him to nervous irritation,--Caesar, we may be sure,
was profoundly agitated. The whole elements of the scene were almost
scenically disposed; the law of antagonism having perhaps never been
employed with so much effect: the little quiet brook presenting a direct,
antithesis to its grand political character; and the innocent dawn, with
its pure, untroubled repose, contrasting potently, to a man of any
intellectual sensibility, with the long chaos of bloodshed, darkness, and
anarchy, which was to take its rise from the apparently trifling acts of
this one morning. So prepared, we need not much wonder at what followed.
Caesar was yet lingering on the hither bank, when suddenly, at a point not
far distant from himself, an apparition was descried in a sitting posture,
and holding in its hand what seemed a flute.
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