by John Hersey
“He is finished. There is no applause. A silence in which everyone seems to be holding his breath. Then:
“PISO, in a low voice: You have a lot of anger in you, Lucan.
“LUCAN: Anger is the food of love. A man without anger cannot be a poet.
“PISO: Of love? I heard only hatred in that passage.
“LUCAN: I have that, too. You should know that, Piso. You have it. Who here does not have it?
“No one answers. A long, long wait for an answer. Then Lucan returns to his place on the couch. There follows a period of general conversation, flattery of Lucan….
“But soon the connection is made—to Nero Caesar, though the name is never mentioned. It is Natalis, on my couch beyond Atria, who starts it. Natalis is a man on the razor’s edge of fashion. He is also, as we have seen, a gossip. He is also very close to Piso and, as I conjecture, getting a little too close to his dear friend Piso’s wife—and thus a tricky man not to be trusted by you, either, Paenus…. His first remark is rather innocuous, but it is spoken out in a pause and is heard by all the company:
“NATALIS: I wonder how a certain personage would like this new section of your poem, Lucan.
“VARILLA (wife of Scaevinus, fat hen pheasant) tactlessly: He used to like your work.
“Lucan glances at this silly woman in a fury.
“Scaevinus, who nodded all through the reading but obviously heard it all, trying now to cover his wife’s lapse of taste, spews out a worse one, which opens the door to all that follows. Out of the blue he says that ‘this personage’ was born ‘ass first.’ There are a few embarrassed titters at mention of this bad omen. He goes on, affecting to be bored with what he is saying:
“SCAEVINUS: Yes. Didn’t you know that? A breech. Oh, certainly. Agrippina never forgave him for backing into the world.
“There is cautious laughter all around.
“Now there ensues, Paenus, a total loss of control. One member of the company after another pours out some sarcasm, some anecdote of denigration. It is as if they have all been biting their tongues for months to keep from saying these things. The worst are Lucan, Natalis, and Scaevinus. Apart from one comment, which I will note, Piso remains rather restrained and indeed makes some efforts to hush the worst offenders. Please note that two of the most distinguished writers present, Caesius Bassus and Servilius Nonianus, remain silent throughout, do not laugh much, are circumspect—but neither do they protest even the most egregious slanders….
“Item. Natalis mocks the personage’s musicianship. Tells of the time the personage had Terpnus come and sing to him to teach him ‘the tricks,’ as if music were something a trained bear could learn in an afternoon.
“Item. Afranius Quintianus agrees. This effeminate manikin waves his arms and the little pink flags of his hands flutter along after. He tells of a time when the personage walked with a company on the Palatine and said (the effect of the man’s sibilant, flutey voice quoting the personage’s roar is not lost on the company): ‘ “Did you know that cut leeks are marvelous for the high tones? I eat no fruit. One exercise that is very good for singing is to lie on your back with a lead plate on your chest—deepens your breath. Fruit is bad, makes your throat raspy. I cut out bread every fourth day.” ’ Much laughter.
“Item. Piso recalls that the theater at Naples collapsed right after the certain man performed in it.
“PISO: Even the stones laughed till they fell down.
“Gradually it gets worse. This is a malign atmosphere, Paenus. What is appalling is the headlong quality of the slander. One after another pours out his gall, not caring what the slaves and freedmen hear….
“Now we hear from Scaevinus, who says that the personage wrestles every day, that he has the ambition of competing with the athletes at Olympia, and that he has the absolute delusion that whatever is done, he can do best.
“Now from Glitius Gallus we have mention of the matricide. Not done ‘best.’ What a clumsy artifice, says Gallus, to build a vessel with a ceiling that is supposed to collapse spontaneously!
“And now follows Natalis, describing the personage’s mock marriage to his eunuch, the freedman Sporus, at a party given by Tigellinus (at the pronunciation of whose name Natalis makes as if to vomit). Natalis says he was present at the ‘wedding.’ Bridal veil. The party rabble witnessing everything—ceremony, dower, couch, nuptial torches, fond kisses, and worse and worse, a show of pederasty. Atria whispers to me that it would have been good for all of us if the personage’s father, Domitius, had had a eunuch for a wife.
“I will not describe to you in writing the filth that comes next. Much to prove that the wedding to Sporus was an aberration from the norm of the personage’s appetites. Much raucous laughter. Let us pass to a relatively innocuous line (after this sewage) lisped by Afranius Quintianus—to the effect that the personage ‘is the first who has needed another man’s eloquence.’ By ‘the first’ he clearly means the first Emperor of Rome who has had such a need.
“It is this obvious reference to Lucan’s uncle Seneca that touches off a tirade by the poet, who talks—or raves—his wildness seems the more unrestrained because of his earlier muteness —about the heartless way the personage has treated the philosopher who tutored him, who did indeed write for him the noble words of the early years of his ‘influence,’ who might have helped him to be ‘as noble as Augustus’ if he had had even a few shreds of greatness in him. Frequent mention of the ‘coarse,’ ‘brutalizing,’ and ‘vulgar’ influence of Tigellinus. Lucan describes, with scorn run riot, a dinner for poets given by the personage shortly before Lucan was proscribed. A scurrilous portrait: ‘Look at him! The neck of a farm ox rising out of a woman’s dinner gown of the sort we men are supposed to wear only during the Saturnalia, of mauve silk. He wears no belt, no sandals. There are spots of dissipation on his skin. His arms are unfinished oak timbers jutting from that lady-silk, and they are raised to hold a scroll because he has not been able to memorize even his own words, if they are his. His hair is arranged in tiers of curls that look like a plowed hillside. His eyes are a milky blue, enraptured by the sound of his own words, if they are his. His lower lip sticks out in the willful pout of the son of a tyrannical whore.’ Lucan mimics, with palpable sarcasm, the delivery by the Emperor of a flat couplet:
Sounding in the dappled shade
The hollow woe of doves.
“ ‘He is a creature,’ Lucan shouts, ‘in whose mind “shade” is always “dappled,” “woe of doves” is always “hollow.” ’
“Lucan’s performance strikes me as a catastrophic artistic anticlimax, for his reading of the excoriation of Alexander said the same things (about ‘the personage,’ by metaphor) within the discipline of poetry, and therefore far more movingly. Now he is ranting.
“But Lucan’s outpouring transforms the occasion. No more loud laughter. Now the listeners exchange significant looks, nod, raise their hands in gestures of desperation. There is a quiet, grim, dangerous air in the room. Piso claps his hands and orders wine. Red like blood. All drink in silence….
“A few words in summation, Paenus. As you see, nothing overtly threatening was spoken at the dinner. I fear I must confess that I have previously heard whispered in various places most of the slander and filth that came out here. But take note of: The general outpouring. The breaking of a dam of some kind. The assumption of a common mind all round. Everyone talking as if no secret police could possibly be present. I was haunted by a feeling that there was some kind of readiness. Forgive me if I am telling you much that is either useless or that you already know….
“If you could speak to T. about the possibility of an introduction at court during some literary occasion, I would not only be grateful, I would be your apt pupil in the writing of documents of this kind….”
September 21
To TIGELLINUS from CELER, Office of Planning and Construc
tion
I have a design for the barge. It will seem to float on clouds—a vessel in a strange dream. But I have one demurrer to your command. Dacian gold and ivory from the Syrtes and Mauretania are in plentiful supply; enough silver I can easily get from Spain. But tin in sufficient amounts is not to be found here just now and must come all the way from the Cassiterides. There is not time.
To TIGELLINUS from CANUS, Imperial Household
I hasten to report that for your occasion I have found two novelties. First, a game of lion and rabbit. A lion has been trained to pursue and catch a rabbit without hurting it and to run to the feet of a guest of honor, to kneel there, and to open its mouth and let out the rabbit, which by now is trembling with fear and disbelief and cannot run away. A living satire, Tigellinus, on that most unnatural of man’s vices, mercy. And second, an elephant that has been taught to write in the dust with its trunk. It has a large vocabulary. Even the keeper never knows what it will write.
We are training the swans and expect a good result.
To PAENUS, Tribune of Secret Police, from TIGELLINUS
I have read the report of the dinner at Piso’s.
I am suspicious of this informant. Could you not see his ill-concealed enjoyment of the filthy slanders of the effete company he describes? Notice how he says that Lucan’s reading of the Alexander passage was more “moving” than his later overt libels. Notice his savoring at length of Lucan’s sketch of Himself at a reading. There is a smirk behind this report, Paenus. If you are to use this young man, set a closer watch on him. No introductions to Himself until you can give me better proofs of his usefulness.
As to the substance of what he reports, it turns my stomach. These arrogant literati have not, the whole pack of them, a tenth of the energy, the versatility, the love of life, and yes, the sheer genius of the man they mock, long may you and I protect him. They are crab lice in the pubic hair of Rome. They would not recognize culture if it were pushed in their pus-pocked faces. They have no sense of pride in the greatness of Nero’s realm, in its vigor, its manliness, its originality.
But your task, Paenus, is the security of the person of Himself. You cannot excite yourself over every wisp of unpleasantness that drifts past your nostrils. What you have to do—it takes a strong nose and a leather stomach—is to sniff carefully over every stink for the special odor of the putrefaction of treachery. It is a faint but unique smell, like that of distant carrion. Let me tell you what I smell in this report.
Not much. We are witness to the bravado of weak men.
Let me take the principal ones your informant cites.
Caius Calpurnius PISO, the host. Your young man misjudges the “mildness” of Piso. Already extremely powerful. Favored in every way. Leading member of the Calpurnian family—unassailable. Intolerably (to us) rich; his place at Baiae makes our mouths water. Face of an angel. Cultured. Sweet manners to all, despite the “unkind” expression your informant saw—will see, Paenus, on the face of every man who patronizes his rambling nose. Now I have mentioned the overmentioned object, may dogs eat your balls. Piso did himself no harm by stealing another man’s wife, lowborn at that—an immensely shrewd woman; you saw how she made this ugly young man think her “restless.” Piso is munificent toward young poets and orators on the rise: gives them money, praise, entertainment, hope, and the greatest literary prize of all—a sense of being in the inner circle of culture. But there is something flaccid in Piso’s character. He lacks the resolution of a great Roman. Perhaps he has been partly dissolved by the lickspittle of pretentious intellectuals. I don’t worry my head over Piso, and you must not. It is, however, shocking that men could act as if there were no secret police at his lavish parties. Place some among his slaves. But do not put Piso under special watch. That can wait.
The poet LUCAN. This little worm puzzles me. One has no trouble finding the cause of his bitterness, yet he does love Rome and I have a stubborn theory that in spite of everything he still loves Himself—not in that way, you understand, but with the icy love of a spurned fellow artist and patriot. I may be wrong. I want to know. I will discuss him with Himself. Work me up a full file on Lucan, and put the man under the most tactful but alert surveillance. Also, get me the complete text of the passage he read at the dinner.
Antonius NATALIS, the one who was on the couch with our informant and Piso’s wife, and who gossiped about Lucan’s women. Lives on rents of country estates valued at six million sesterces. Close friend, as your informant notes, to Piso. Formidable learning, but of a superficial kind, in Greek literature. Record of service to the state paltry. Makes it his business to know what and who is in fashion, and aggrandizes socially on that knowledge. We have enough information on what he does with his restless hands to blackmail him twenty times over. Nothing to worry about with this piece of scum.
Flavius SCAEVINUS. Sleepy-Eyes is another matter. Far more dissolute than Natalis, but by the same measure more discreet. Has covered his tracks well. A Senator, and not a bad one. Fortune of more than eight million. Quick, facile mind. His few speeches at the Capitol have been of the soft-spined sort. For example, supported Seneca in the move to charge the City Prefect with receiving and investigating complaints by slaves against the injustice of their masters. Also close to Piso. I cannot say exactly why, but my nose gets a whiff here of something turning rotten. Put this drowsy spider under surveillance.
Afranius QUINTIANUS. Here is an interesting case: an egregious pederast who is quietly loved by several manifestly heterosexual men—loved, I mean, as companion and mental equal. Hates Himself for good reason. You may remember the hilarious lampoon Himself wrote on the intrepid explorer of the nates of Rome; it was passed around the court at the top of everyone’s voice that his model was Quintianus, and Quintianus has been heard grinding his pretty pearly teeth over it. But wait on this one. We can easily get to him in due course by way of his failing.
Get me information on the woman EPICHARIS, about whose “provocations” Natalis spoke. Her “tawny beauty” and anger pique my curiosity. What did Natalis mean by her stirring up anger and desire in “sufferers”?
To CANUS, Imperial Household, from TIGELLINUS
Limit yourself to the carrying out of instructions as given. We cannot afford to expose Himself to an unpredictable outburst of rage from a wild beast having been humiliated into behaving like a human being. Think what a shrewd and furious elephant might write! It is bad enough that Himself is constantly surrounded by human beings who are driven to behave, without needing to be trained to it, like goats, tigers, pythons, toads, and buzzards.
To CELER, Office of Planning and Construction, from TIGELLINUS
Take the tin from a temple.
September 23
To TIGELLINUS from THE COLLEGE OF AUGURS
For the Emperor, at your discretion.
You may already have heard that a comet has been seen on the three successive nights just past.
We need not emphasize to you the danger to the highest persons signified by this apparition. We address this irregular notice to you because of a conjunction of other unfavorable portents during the days separated by these same nights. In view of the recent great disaster, we consider that sober thought, preparatory acts of propitiation, and above all discretion would be advisable in the interpretation of these portents to the Emperor.
The two most noteworthy of these conjoined portents are:
Item. At the sacrifice of a pregnant ewe at the Altar of Peace, an unborn lamb was discovered with two heads, ill-formed, showing signs of premature mortification.
Item. In the Placentia district, close beside the public road, a calf was delivered with its head firmly attached to its leg.
Our preliminary interpretation, prepared in haste:
A second “head” is coming among us. Its power will be limited; it will, however, be known, notable, seen, morbid, and dangerous.
&n
bsp; We leave to your discretion the means of conveying to the Emperor these unhappy indications.
To THE COLLEGE OF AUGURS from TIGELLINUS
Give us better divination. I mean clearer. And I mean more favorable. I know I shock you with these commands. This is no time to raise alarms.
To BALBILLUS, Astrologer, from TIGELLINUS
Be so kind as to prepare, for highest eyes, horoscopes taking into account the comet presently visible. I would appreciate your avoiding technical language. We are sick of cusps, ascendancies, influences. Reduce your recommendations to the clearest, simplest, and most efficacious terms. Urgent.
September 24
To SECRETARIAT from TIGELLINUS
Send the following to Lists III and IV, and also to these persons: C. C. Piso, A. Natalis, A. Quintianus, F. Scaevinus, M. A. Lucan, G. Gallus, C. Bassus, S. Nonianus, A. Mela,……and wives:
From Sofonius Tigellinus, Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, cordial greetings. In honor of Nero Claudius Caesar Drusus Germanicus, Emperor, and on the occasion of the inauguration of the new gardens of the Lake of the Golden House, a festive occasion on the Ides of October, beginning at the tenth hour. Refreshment, diversions, works of art, voyages, wonderful creatures. Be present.
To PAENUS, Tribune of Secret Police, from TIGELLINUS
On the Ides of October I will be host to approximately four hundred at an occasion at the Lake of the Golden House. Please arrange special security precautions. I am purposely inviting, besides Lists III and IV, a small number of “doubtfuls,” including those mentioned in the information of Curtius Marsus as having been audible at the Piso dinner, and some others (list enclosed). Assign agents individually to these people for 1) protection of the Person, 2) elicitation of incriminating material, either on the spot or later through developed relationships. In other words, Paenus, set some of your nice little snares. Authorize methods according to the special capabilities of each agent. Extreme discretion.
To ABASCANTUS, Imperial Treasury, from TIGELLINUS