The Roman sotk-2

by Mika Waltari

  At Hierex’ house I had a good opportunity to establish again that “some people are like unpolished jewels in that they can hide brilliant qualities beneath a rough exterior,” as your bearded young friend Decimus Juvenal recently wrote to flatter Emperor Vespasian. I know his kind very well. He has every reason to strive for the Emperor’s favor, for his unwarranted language and insolent verses have caused offense. Not with me, for he is a friend of yours. As young people do, you admire people with the gift of a swift tongue. But remember you are four years younger than that unwashed scamp.

  If I am sure of anything, then I am sure Juvenal’s indecent verses will not survive. I have seen so many more brilliant stars flare up and be extinguished. In addition his foolish drinking, his insolent tongue, his way of transforming night to day and his endless plucking at Egyptian tunes will extinguish the last spark of genuine poetry he might possess.

  I am not writing this because you allowed me to see a verse a despicable youth had written lampooning me, but because I cannot with a clear conscience consider supporting his efforts by publishing them. I am not that simple. I am only seriously worried about you, my son.

  In Corinth I gained Vespasian’s friendship to such an extent that before he went to Egypt to take over the two legions there at the time, he asked me to put my knowledge of Eastern affairs and my good connections with the Jews at his disposal and to accompany him into the field. I declined politely, for it was not really a war but a punitive expedition against rebellious subjects.

  After Vespasian had gone, in order to keep his aims secret Nero had the Praetorian legions begin digging the canal at Corinth. This enterprise had already been begun on his orders some time before, but bad omens had forced him to stop. The holes had filled overnight with blood and in the darkness terrible cries, which carried right into the city and frightened the Corinthians, were heard. This is the absolute truth and not just gossip, for I have it from very reliable sources.

  Hierex had managed to acquire profitable shares in the tracks along which the ships were hauled across the land. Obviously the owners of these tracks, who had invested large sums in the powerful slaves needed, did not regard the plan to dig a canal with particular approval, Hierex had access to plentiful supplies of fresh blood because in his water-cooled butcher’s shops he also sold meat to the Jews, and thus had to bleed the animals in the Jewish way before cutting up the meat.

  He always had tubs of blood. Usually he used it to make blood-pancakes for the slaves in his copper foundry. But on the advice of his business friends, he offered several days’ income in a good cause and had all the blood taken at night and tipped into the holes dug for the canal. His friends arranged for the sighs and wails, which was easily done, as I once told you, when I had arranged for Tullia’s house, after considerable trouble, to become my legal property.

  Naturally I did not tell Nero of what I had heard in Hierex’ house, and besides I had no reason to support the building of the canal either. When the Praetorians refused to do the work because of the bad omens and because physical work was distasteful to them, Nero ceremoniously went and dug the first hole with his own hands, watched by the Praetorian troops and the people of Corinth.

  He lifted the first basket of earth to his Imperial shoulders and carried it bravely to its place on what was to be the canal bank. No blood was found in this hole and the nighdy wails ceased, so the Praetorians took courage and began to dig. The centurions helped them on with lashes, so that they themselves need not take up a shovel. This also meant that the Praetorians began to bear a bitter grudge against Nero, more so than against Tigellinus who used to punish them with ordinary marching exercises. They preferred to expend their energies on the road rather than with a spade.

  After considering the matter carefully, I found valid reasons for telling Hierex to stop taking blood to the canal workings. I did not tell him my real reason; I simply told him that for the sake of his own health and because of Nero, he would be wise to bear the loss like a man.

  Hierex followed my advice not only for its own sake but because Nero had begun to put guards there at night to stop people from trespassing in the canal area.

  Hierex and his connections with the Jews in Corinth were enormously useful to me when, immediately after the news of the defeat of the legion in Judaea, I had warnings sent out to all the Christian Jews that they would be wise to keep quiet and preferably go into hiding. Nero sent orders to both Italy and all the provinces for the imprisonment and prosecution for treason of every Jewish agitator at the least sign of trouble.

  It would be too much to expect that a Roman official would be able to differentiate between heavenly and earthly kingdoms, between Christs and other Messiahs, when it came to agitation. To Roman reasoning, the activities of the Christian Jews were simply political agitation under the cloak of religion. Matters were made worse after the many summary trials of the Christians by their calling Nero the anti-Christ whose appearance Jesus of Nazareth had prophesied. Nero did not in fact mind this nickname, but just said that the Christians obviously regarded him as a god equal to Christ as they honored him with such a splendid name.

  In fact the weakness of the Christians lies in that they despise politics and avoid political activities, and instead direct all their hopes on an invisible kingdom, which as far as I can make out could not be any danger to the State. So when their leaders are dead, they will have no future in this world. Their faith will soon disappear because of their internal squabbles in which each man thinks his own beliefs are the true ones. I am convinced of this, whatever your mother says. Women have no political sense.

  For my part, I have often talked myself hoarse on behalf of the Christians to demonstrate their political insignificance, whether they are circumcised or not. But it is impossible to explain this to a Roman who has had legal training and experience. He just shakes his head and regards the Christians as politically suspect all the same.

  To my sorrow, I did not succeed in saving Paul whose restless temperament forced him to move continuously from country to country. I had received the latest news of him from my oil buyer in Emporiae, a prosperous harbor city which is beginning to become silted up on the north coast of Iberia. He had been driven from there by the faithful Jews in the city, but according to my informer, had not suffered severe injuries.

  In Iberia, as in other places, he had been forced to content himself with preaching in the coastal cities which had been founded by the Greeks long ago and still used Greek as their main language, although laws and regulations were of course in Latin and engraved on copper tablets. There are many such large towns along the Iberian coast and thus plenty of opportunities for him to travel. The oil merchant said that he had sailed southward to Mainace, to reach western Iberia, for his restlessness had not lessened.

  So he has only himself to blame that my warning did not reach him. He was imprisoned in Troy in Asiatic Bithnya so suddenly that his papers, books and traveling cloak were left in his lodgings. I suppose he had been forced to visit Asia to encourage his converts, whom he thought were being enticed away by wandering preachers. At least he bitterly called many of them lie-prophets-even those who like himself spoke in the name of Christ-though of course they were not so well versed in the divine mysteries as he.

  When the news of Paul’s whereabouts arrived in Rome, Cephas’ hiding place was immediately revealed; Paul’s followers thought they owed that to their teacher. Cephas had received my warning in time and left Rome for Puteoli, but had turned back again at the fourth milestone on the via Appia. As a reason, he gave that Jesus of Nazareth had appeared to him in all his glory, which he well remembered and recognized. “Where are you going?” Jesus had asked him. Cephas replied that he had fled from Rome. Then Jesus had said: “Then I myself shall go to Rome to be crucified for the second time.”

  Cephas was ashamed and humbly turned back to Rome, although happy to have once again seen his master. In his simplicity, during his journeys with Jesus of Naza
reth, Cephas had been the first of all the disciples to recognize and acknowledge him as the Son of God. Because of this, his master had become so attached to him that he called him his chief disciple, not just because of his great strength of body and mind as many still believe.

  I am telling you what I have heard, but there are also other versions. The essential thing, however, was that Cephas had experienced a vision of some kind on the via Appia and this helped him toward a final reconciliation with Paul before their deaths. Paul himself had, of course, never set eyes on Jesus of Nazareth. Indeed, prompted by a certain envy, Cephas had once said, concerning Paul’s vision, that he did not need to invent stories, since he had known Jesus of Nazareth while he had lived on earth. But these words were spoken when their dispute was at its height. Later, after he had himself experienced a vision, Cephas was ashamed of his accusation and had asked Paul to forgive him.

  I was sorry for this simple fisherman who after ten years in Rome still had not learned enough Latin or Greek to be able to manage without an interpreter. This caused a great many misunderstandings. It is even said that he used to quote inaccurately or at least carelessly from the holy scripts of the Jews as with their help he tried to show that Jesus of Nazareth was the true Messiah or Christ, just as if that were important to those who believed he was so. But the Christian Jews have a deep desire to show their learning, disputing over words and their meaning and always referring to their holy scripts.

  It would be a good thing to translate them gradually into Latin, so that they would then have an indisputably valid form. Our language is suited to such things. It would put an end to all these insufferable disputes on the correct meaning of words which bring only headaches with them.

  But I must return to my story. Out of the inner circle of Jesus of Nazareth’s followers, I managed to save a certain Johannes, who had fled to Ephesus to avoid the persecution of the Jews. I myself have never met him, but he is said to be a mild and gentle man who spends his time writing his memoirs and making speeches of reconciliation to lessen the disunity among the Jews. My father liked him very much. He was denounced during this time of treachery and envy, but the Proconsul in Asia happened to be a friend of mine and contented himself with banishing him temporarily to an island.

  I was surprised to hear that there he had written accounts of several stormy visions he had had, although he is said to have calmed down after being allowed to return to Ephesus.

  Nero punished the members of the committee for Eastern affairs by sending us back to Rome to see that the Jews there did not rise in armed rebellion. He said derisively that we could perhaps manage that, even if otherwise we had lack of ability. He could not dismiss us from the committee, since that was the Senate’s business, but to please him the Senate made certain changes, although it was hard to find new men who were prepared to sacrifice their time for this thankless task.

  So I was no longer on the committee when Nero proclaimed Achaia a free kingdom and returned Greece’s independence to her. The political circumstances were not changed by this, as I had experienced in my youth when I had been a tribune in Corinth. On the other hand the Greeks would now have to choose their own governor, pay for their own campaigns and dig their own canals. Despite this, the measure roused immense joy among the short-sighted Greeks.

  I noticed that Nero did not once mention the Roman Senate, but made it clear that Nero and Nero alone had been able to carry out such a declaration of independence. We had heard with our own ears, at the introduction of the building of the Corinthian canal, that Nero hoped that this great enterprise would bring fortune to Achaia and the Roman people, with no mention of the Senate, although this should always be said in official speeches. The correct expression is “the Senate and people of Rome” and so it will always be, however the times change.

  So it was not surprising that I began to feel that Orcus was guiding my feet and that Charon was breathing coldly down my neck as I followed the Jews to their death. Many another farsighted senator had felt the same way, although nothing had been said, for who could trust anyone any longer? For safety’s sake, one of us always took a reserve of a million sesterces in gold on a cart when we traveled anywhere.

  Nero did not even let us meet him in Naples. He wished to begin his triumphal procession to Rome from there since it was in the theater in Naples that he had first performed in public. Instead of a triumph in the ordinary sense, he wished to make his return to Rome into an artistic procession of triumph to give the people pleasure and a few free days. In itself this was politically wise, especially since the campaigns in the East had failed, but we were not pleased that we had to pull down part of the city wall for his procession. No victor had ever demantled such an honor before, not even Augustus himself at his triumphs. We thought Nero was beginning to show some unpleasant signs of an Eastern autocrat. That will not do for Rome, whatever an unwashed scamp of a boy writes on the decay of our customs.

  Not only we, but the people too, and I mean of course all right-thinking citizens, shook our heads at the sight of Nero in Augustus’ sacred triumphal chariot, driving through the breach in the city wall and then straight through the city, followed by wagon-loads of victory wreaths, and instead of soldiers, guard of honor of actors, musicians, singers and dancers from all over the world. Instead of battles, he had had artists paint great canvases and sculpt groups of figures rep-presenting his victories in different singing competitions. He himself was dressed in a purple cloak covered with golden stars and had a double Olympic olive wreath on his head.

  In honor of Nero it must also be said that he followed the ancient custom of humbly mounting the steep steps on the Capitoline on his knees to dedicate his best victory wreaths not only to Jupiter Custos, but also to the other important gods of Rome, Juno and Venus. All the same, there were enough wreaths left to cover all the walls of the reception rooms and the circular banqueting hall in the Golden Palace.

  Nero’s return home, nevertheless, was not quite so agreeable as an outsider might have thought. Statilia Messalina was a spoiled and weak woman, but a woman all the same, and she would not tolerate Nero giving Sporus exactly the same marital rights as herself, so that he could exchange marital beds according to his whim of the moment. They quarreled so violently that it resounded throughout the Palace, but with Poppaea’s fate still fresh in his mind, Nero dared not kick his wife, and Statilia made the most of this. After a while, in his anger, Nero demantled his victory wreaths back from Juno, and other things which he could not do. In the end he banished Statilia to Antium, but that turned out to be only to her advantage.

  Statilia Messalina relives that day today and grieves for Nero, remembering his good points, as befits a widow. She often demonstratively decorates the Domitians’ modest mausoleum, which can easily be seen by Mars field from the Pincian hill, near Lucullus’ gardens, where in my youth I saw the cherry trees bloom with Nero and Agrippina.

  Nero’s bones rest in the tomb of the Domitians, it is said. There has been a good deal of trouble in the Eastern provinces over his memory. The people do not believe he is dead, but imagine he will come back again to remind us that his rule was a time of happiness compared with today’s tax-burdened State cupidity.

  Now and again an escaped slave appears in the East, proclaiming he is Nero and, of course, the Parthians are always glad to support such attempts at rebellion. We have crucified two false Neros. They were asked to demonstrate their identity by singing, but neither of them proved a singer of Nero’s quality. Anyhow, Statilia remembers him with flowers and decorates his tomb, if it is Nero’s tomb.

  Again I had postponed the matter which I find hard to recount by speaking of something else. Thanks to Nero’s triumph and his other political duties, I succeeded in postponing the executions for a long time. But finally the day dawned when we had to put the long-since determined death sentences before Nero. If I had found yet another excuse to postpone them, I myself would have been suspected of being pro-Jewish, even by m
y colleagues.

  To clear our reputation, we in the committee for Eastern affairs had made a thorough investigation into the actual situation within the Jewish colony in Rome and its danger to the security of the State after the Jewish uprising in Jerusalem. Many of us had grown wealthier during these profitable activities. With a clear conscience we could lay a reassuring account before Nero and the Senate.

  By a narrow majority we managed to convince the Senate that there should be no real persecution of the Jews, but that we should be content with weeding out suspected elements and talkative agitators. Our suggestion was based on sound reason and was accepted, despite the hatred of the Jews the rebellion in Jerusalem had aroused. To be truthful, I used my own means in preparing the case, because Claudia had so many Jewish Christian friends. For instance, Aquila with his crooked nose and brave Prisca would have certainly been taken with the rest. But I am a hardhearted man, a miser, a rogue who always manages to save himself and for whom your best friend Juvenal has not a good word. I expect my friends pay him well for copies of his verses. There is no joy among human beings like malicious joy. Let us rejoice then, you and I, that your bearded friend can at least pay his debts thanks to me, and without it costing me a thing.

  If I were as avaricious as he maintains, then naturally I should buy that cursed verse from him and allow my own publisher to reap the profits. But I am not like Vespasian, who even taxed the water a man makes. We once were discussing funerals, and he asked us how much we thought his funeral would cost the State treasury. We calculated that the ceremonies would come to at least ten million sesterces, a calculation which was not just a compliment but could be proved with the clear figures. Vespasian sighed heavily and said: “Give me a hundred thousand now and you can throw my ashes in the Tiber.”

  Naturally we then had to collect a hundred thousand sesterces in his old-fashioned straw hat, so the meal was an expensive one and the food had been nothing to boast about either. Vespasian loves simple honest customs and his own fresh country wine. For the sake of my position, I have many a time had to contribute to the building of his amphitheater. It will be the wonder of the world, and Nero’s Golden Palace will be nothing but a spoiled youth’s finicky mess in comparison.