“כולם אנשי כבוד המה” – נאום מרקוס-אנטוניוס מאת שייקספיר
“יוליוס קיסר” הוא אחת מהדרמות ההיסטוריות של שייקספיר והנאומים של ברוטוס ואנטוניוס מהווים אולי את פסגת הרטוריקה הפוליטית של וויליאם שייקספיר. ואחד מהשיאים הדרמטיים של המחזה מתרחש מיד לאחר רצח יוליוס קיסר – ההמון הורמאי נאסף ודורש הסברים לרצח. שני נואמים מבריקים קמים להציג את דבריהם לקהל – ברוטוס הרוצח ויריבו הפוליטי מרקוס-אנטוניוס.
נאום מרקוס אנטוניוס
נאומו של אנטוניוס הוא תגובה לנאומו של ברוטוס. הוא ארוך בהרבה ומרשים בהרבה. אנטוניוס יודע שהוא מתחיל מנקודה חלשה מאד, ובראשית דבריו הוא מקפיד להצטנע ולהסתיר את כוונותיו – “לא באתי לשבח את קיסר אלא לקבור אותו” הפך לציטוט קלאסי. אנטוניוס מזכיר להמון את מעשיו הטובים ואת הישגיו של קיסר.
בהדרגה, אנטוניוס מעביר את האשמת הבגידה ברפובליקה והנסיון להשתלט עליה מקיסר המנוח לחבורת הקושרים שרצחה אותו. הוא מתחיל בלערער על הנימוקים שלהם לרצח, אחר כך על הפטריוטיות שלהם, ובסוף על האנושיות שלהם. בתרגיל רטורי מבריק הוא משתמש כל הזמן בביטוי “הלא הם אנשי כבוד” כאשר בהדרגה הביטוי הופך ממחמאה כנה, לשאלה מסקרנת, לאחר מכן ללגלול ואז לציניות ולבסוף לקללה ולהאשמה (הביטוי honourable men מסומן באדום, לצורך הנוחות).
בסיום הנאום ההמון כבר זועם ומוסת ומסתער על ברוטוס וחבריו שנאלצים להימלט ובהמשך המחזה מוצאים להורג. (על הרקע והמסר של הנאום)
| – Antonius: |
So are they all, all honourable men,— Come I to speak in Cæsar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar, And I must pause till it come back to me.
– First Cit: Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.
– Sec. Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter, Cæsar has had great wrong.
– Third Cit. Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.
– Fourth Cit. Mark’d ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore ’tis certain he was not ambitious.
– First Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
– Antonius: But yesterday the word of Cæsar might Have stood against the world;
now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters! if I were dispos’d to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men.
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead,
to wrong myself, and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here’s a parchment with the seal of Cæsar; I found it in his closet, ’tis his will.
Let but the commons hear this testament— Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read—
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar’s wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy . Unto their issue.
– Fourth Cit. We’ll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.
– Citizens. The will, the will! we will hear Cæsar’s will.
It is not meet you know how Cæsar lov’d you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
’Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For if you should, O! what would come of it.
– Fourth Cit. Read the will! we’ll hear it, Antony;
I fear I wrong the honourable men Whose daggers have stabb’d Cæsar; I do fear it
– Sec. Cit. They were villains, murderers. The will! read the will.
And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? and will you give me leave? [ANTONY comes down]
– Antonius: Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.
– Citizens. Stand back! room! bear back!
You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on;
’Twas on a summer’s evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii.
Look! in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made:
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb’d;
And, as he pluck’d his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow’d it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv’d If Brutus so unkindly knock’d or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar’s angel: Judge, O you gods! how dearly Cæsar lov’d him.
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms,
Quite vanquish’d him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey’s statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
Whilst bloody treason flourish’d over us. O! now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Kind souls; what! weep you when you but behold Our Cæsar’s vesture wounded?
Look you here, Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, with traitors.
First Cit. O piteous spectacle!
They that have done this deed are honourable:
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise and honourable,
and will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend;
and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men’s blood:
I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know,
Show you sweet Cæsar’s wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me:
but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits,
Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserv’d your loves? Alas! you know not:
I must tell you then. You have forgot the will I told you of.
To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.
Ant. Hear me with patience.
Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber;
he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæsar! when comes such another?
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