Lost Diaries

XI

FROM THE "JOURNAL INTIME" OF THE EMPEROR TIBERIUS

February 1. – Disquieting news from Parthia. Artabanus is giving trouble again. Shall probably have to send an expedition. The military party in Rome say that there will probably be unrest in Thrace in the spring. I remember they said the same thing last year. Slept wretchedly last night. Claricles' medicine is worse than useless. Wrote three despatches and one private letter. Fed Hannibal, the tortoise. Went for a stroll in the afternoon. Picked the first wind-flower, and put it in water. The gardener says we shall have some rain shortly. Please the Gods this may be true, as the country needs it badly! Dined alone. Played spilikins after dinner with Fufius, but found it a strain.

February 2. – Woke at four and remained awake until seven, then went asleep again, and overslept myself. Scolded Balbus for not calling me. He said he did not dare call me more emphatically. Told him it must not occur again.

February 3. – Nothing particular.

February 4. – Letter from my mother begging me to come and see her. Says she is suffering from lung trouble. Women are so unreasonable. She must realise that it is impossible for me to get away just at present. Hannibal would not touch his lettuce to-day. This is the third day running it has happened. Claricles has given him some medicine. Strolled along to cliffs in the morning. Much vexed by a fisherman who pushed a lobster under my very nose. I have a horror of shellfish. Varus and Aufidius dined. Found their conversation a strain. So retired early. Read the Seventh Book of the "Æneid," but found it insipid. Virgil will certainly not live. He was a sycophant.

February 10. – Anniversary of poor Julia's death. Began to write short poem on the subject, but was interrupted by the arrival of the courier from Rome. Much vexed, as it altogether interrupted my train of thought and spoilt what would have been a fine elegy. News from Rome unsatisfactory. It rained in the afternoon, so I did not go out. Sorted my specimens of dried herbs, which are in a sad state of confusion. Dined alone. Dictated a despatch to Sejanus. Read some of the "Alcestis" (Euripides) before going to bed. Alcestis reminds me of Julia in many ways. She had the same fervid altruism and the same knack of saying really disagreeable things. But they both meant well…

March 1. – A lovely spring day. Went for a stroll, and jotted down a few ideas for a poem on Spring. The birds were singing. Listened for some time to the babbling of the brook. Think of alluding to this in the poem. "Desilientis aquae" would make a good ending to a pentameter. Mentioned it to Fufius when I came in, casually. He said he did not think it was very original. Fufius is hyper-critical. He does not feel poetry. Finished the memorial lines on Julia ending "Ave atque Vale." Shall not show them to Fufius. He would be certain to say something disparaging. Positively haunted by the sight of the wild tulips in the hills, fluttering in the breeze. Sights like this live in the memory. Disturbed early in the morning by a noise of hammering. It is strange that where-ever I go this happens. Made inquiries, and ascertained that the stable roof is being repaired. If it is not the stable roof it is sure to be something else. Last week it was a strayed cow which woke me at five. Find it very difficult to get sleep in the early morning, whatever precautions I take. In a month's time the nightingales will begin, and then sleep will be out of the question. Thinking of writing a poem called "To Sleep."

March 10. – Claricles says I am overworked and need a change. Have decided to go for a short walking tour, quite by myself. Thought of taking Fufius, but knowing how self-willed he is, decided not to. Packed my knapsack. Took an extra pair of sandals, a worsted scarf, an ivory comb, two gold toothpicks, and a volume of Sappho's Songs. Find this light, feminine verse suitable for outdoor life. Shall start early to-morrow. Had my hair cut. The slave was clumsy when cutting round the ears. They still smart. Find this fault to be universal among haircutters. Shall take tablets with me in order to jot down any ideas for future poems, although Claricles advises me to give up writing for two or three weeks.

March 13. – Returned earlier than I expected. Walking tour successful on the whole. Visited Sorrentum, an idyllic spot. Not sure I don't prefer it to Capreæ. It is a curious thing that man is always discontented with what he has, and hankers after what he has not got. Walked leisurely the first day, stopping every now and then for light refreshment. Found the country people very civil and anxious to please. Nobody knew who I was, and I was intensely gratified by many spontaneous and frank experiences of loyalty and devotion to the Emperor. This is refreshing in this sceptical age. It is a comfort to think that although I may not go down to posterity as a great military genius like Julius Cæsar, I shall at least leave a blameless name, as far as my domestic life is concerned, and an untarnished reputation for benevolence, kindness, and unswerving devotion to duty. Without being conceited, I think that some of my verse will live. I think I shall be among the Roman poets when I die; but this is not saying much, when one considers the absurd praise given to poetasters such as Virgil and Ponticus. Strolling along the seashore near Sorrentum a very pretty little episode occurred. A woman, one of the fishermen's wives, was sitting by her cottage door, spinning. Her child, a little girl about six years old, was playing with a doll hard by.

I said "Good day" to the fisherman's wife, and she offered me a glass of wine. I declined, as Claricles has forbidden me red wine, but I said I would gladly accept a bowl of milk. She immediately went to fetch it, and the child went with her. When they returned the child offered me the bowl, lisping in a charming manner. I drank the milk, and the mother then said to the child:

"Tell the kind gentleman whom you love best in the world."

"Papa and mamma," lisped the child.

"And after that?" asked the mother.

"After that the divine Emperor Tiberius, who is the father and the mother of us all," she said.

I gave the mother a gold piece. Fufius says it is a mistake to give money to the poor, and that it pauperises them. He says one does more harm than good by indiscriminate charity. But I think it cannot be a bad thing to follow the impulses of the heart. I should like this to be said of me: "Although he had many faults, such as discontent and want of boldness, his heart was in the right place." It is little incidents like the one I noted above which make up for the many disappointments and trials of a monarch's life. The second day of my tour was marred by a thunder-shower, but I found a thrush's nest and three eggs in it. There are few things which move me so inexpressibly as the sight of a thrush's nest with the eggs lying in it. It is curious that the nightingale's egg should be so ugly. Owing to the bad weather, and the rheumatism in my joints which it brought on, I was obliged to cut short my tour.

(This extract probably belongs to a later period)

June. – Asinius Gallus has again sent in a petition about the prison fare. It appears he has a conscientious objection to eating veal. The officials say they can do nothing. If they make an exception in his favour they will be obliged to do so in many less deserving cases. I confess these little things worry me. Our prison system seems to me lacking in elasticity; but it is dreadfully difficult to bring into effect any sweeping reform; because if the prison disciplinary system is modified to meet the requirements of the more cultivated prisoners, the prisons would be crowded with ruffians who would get themselves arrested on purpose. At least this is the official view, and it is shared by Sejanus, who has gone into the matter thoroughly. I confess it leaves me unconvinced. I am glad to say we are ahead of the Persians in the matter. In Persia they think nothing of shutting up a prisoner – of whatever rank – in a cell and keeping him isolated from the world sometimes for as long as three months at a time. This seems to me barbarous.

July 6. – The heat is overpowering. Agrippina threatens to come home and to bring her daughter. I wrote saying I thought it is very unwise to bring children here at this time of year, owing to the prevalence of fever. She answered that her daughter was looking forward to the sea-bathing. If they come it will mean that my summer will be ruined.

July 7. – I went to the home farm this afternoon. The farmer's wife is very ill. There is little or no hope of her recovery. Spent two hours there reading out passages of the "Odyssey." She does not understand Greek; but it seemed to soothe her. Her husband told her that he felt confident that she could not get worse after this. The faith of these simple folk is most touching. How unlike Fufius and all his friends.

August 1. – There is no news except that, as always occurs at this time of year, the Phœnix is reported to have been seen in Egypt.

August 3. – One of those distressing little incidents happened to-day which entirely spoil one's comfort and peace of mind for the moment: just like a piece of dust getting into one's eye. My old friend Lucius Anuseius came all the way from Rhodes to see me. By some mistake he was shown into the Chamber, where prisoners are examined, and before the error was rectified he was rather rudely interrogated. It turned out afterwards that Balbus mistook him for Titus Anuseius, the informer. Balbus is growing more and more stupid; he forgets everything. I ought to send him away; on the other hand, he knows my habits, and I should feel lost without him. As it is, Claricles says that Lucius is likely to feel it for several days. He is so sensitive and the slightest thing upsets his nerves. All his family are touchy, and I am afraid he will look upon the matter as a deliberate slight. If it had happened to anyone else it would not have mattered. They would have understood at once. This has quite put me out. But, as Fufius says, how little I shall think of this in a year's time.

August 7. – Lucius Anuseius left the island in a huff. It is most regrettable.

August 12. – Agrippina arrives to-morrow. There is nothing to be done. How pleasant life would be were it not for one's relations.

XII

FROM THE DIARY OF ŒDIPUS REX

Corinth. The Feast of the Minotaur.– My birthday and coming-of-age. All went oft very successfully. Papa gave me a chariot and mamma a pocket tooth-pick, set in gold, with an Egyptian inscription on it (two flamingoes and a water-rat, which means in Egyptian "Be merry and wise"). Nausicaa, my nurse, gave me a stylus-wiper with "A Present from Corinth" beautifully worked into it in silk. Polyphemus, our faithful old messenger (who has only one eye), gave me a pair of sandal strings. Very useful, as I'm always losing mine.

In the morning, after I had received all the family congratulations and tokens, at the first meal, there was a public presentation of gifts in the palace.

The town of Corinth sent a deputation, headed by the Priest of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, which presented me, on behalf of the city, with a silver vase, symbolic of the freedom of the city, beautifully embossed, and engraved with a suitable inscription.

The priest made a long speech, and papa, who never cared for oratory, kept on muttering, "By Demeter, be brief," but the priest wasn't brief. He spoke for nearly an hour.

Then I had to respond. I said I would earnestly endeavour to follow in my father's footsteps and to deserve the good-will and esteem of my future subjects, which was being manifested in so touching and patriotic a fashion. My speech had all been written out for me beforehand by Zoroaster, my Persian tutor; but I flatter myself I added a few unexpected and telling touches.

For instance, I began by saying: "Unaccustomed as I am to speaking in public – ." They cheered this to the echo.

I also managed to bring in rather an amusing anecdote about how a foreign merchant called Abraham tried to get the better of a Corinthian merchant in a bargain, and how the Corinthian got the best of him by guile. This provoked loud laughter.

My peroration, ending with the words:

"What do they know of Corinth who only Corinth know?"

(a quotation from Tyrtæus) was loudly cheered. But my cousin Thersites almost spoilt the effect by adding audibly, "Quite enough."

In the afternoon there were games, and an ox was roasted whole for the ὁι πολλὸι. Papa says, now I am of age, I must go and pay my respects to the oracle at Delphi. It is a family tradition.

Delphi. – (What is the date?) – Arrived at last after a tedious journey. The inn is very uncomfortable. This is too bad, as in the guide book (Odysseus') it is marked with a constellation of the Pleiades, which means very good. The wine tastes of tar. And the salt is a chemical compound called Σερεβος. I made a scene and asked for ordinary slaves' salt, and they hadn't got any.

Shall not stay at this inn again, and I shall warn others not to. It is called ΞΕΝΩΛΟΧΕΙΟΝ ΒΑΓΟΝΛΗ. Disappointed in the Temple (very late architecture) and still more in the Oracle. I suppose it thought I didn't pay enough. But because one happens to be a prince, I don't see why one should be robbed. Besides which. I am travelling incognito as Kyrios Ralli. But the priests bowed, and they all called me, "your Shiningness." The Oracle was quite absurd, and evidently in a very bad temper. It said I would kill my father and marry my mother. It only shows how absurd the whole thing is. I hate superstition, and oracles ought to be stopped by law. Gypsies on the roadside are put in gaol. Why should oracles be supported by the State? I shall write to the False Witness about it.

In the afternoon went to the theatre. Saw the tragedy of Adam and Eve, a historical drama, translated from the Hebrew. Very long. The part of the Archangel, danced by Thepsis, was very bad, and the man who danced Eve was too old; but the snake was good. Scenery fine, especially the tree (which had real leaves).

Daulis, Tuesday. – Arrived this morning. Very disappointing; the famous Daulian nightingale is not singing this spring. Just my luck. Rather an amazing incident happened yesterday on the way. My chariot was run into by a stranger. He was on the wrong side of the road, and, of course, entirely in the wrong. Also, his charioteer was not sober. We shouted, and we gave them ample room, and time, but he ran straight into us and his chariot was upset. The owner and charioteer were both taken to the Æsculapian Home, which is under the management of the Red Serpent. The doctor said it was serious. We did all we could, but had to go on, as I was due at Daulis to-day.

Thebes, a year later. – Staying with Queen Jocasta, a charming widow. All very comfortable. Everybody is concerned about the Sphinx, who is really causing great annoyance, asking impertinent riddles, and playing dangerous practical jokes on people who can't answer. They want me to go. Very tiresome, as I never could answer a riddle; but it's difficult to refuse.

Wednesday. – Saw the Sphinx. Guessed the riddle first shot. It asked what was that which runs on two legs, has feathers and a beak, and barks like a dog. I said "pheasant," and I added, "You put that in about the barking to make it more difficult." The Sphinx was very angry and went off in a huff, for good.

Thursday. – As a reward for getting rid of the Sphinx I am allowed to marry the Queen; we are engaged. Everybody thinks it an excellent thing. She is a little older than I am; but I don't think that matters.

(Ten years later)

Thebes. – Rather a severe epidemic of plague. They say it is not bubonic, however. In fact, it is what they call plagueen. Still, there are a great many deaths.

Thebes, a week later. – The plague increasing. Have sent for Tiresias to find out what it comes from.

Tuesday. – Tiresias arrived. Very cross and guarded. Don't believe he knows anything about it. Doesn't want to commit himself. He loves making mysteries.

Saturday. – Insisted on Tiresias speaking out. Regret having done so now. He flew into a passion, and threatened the whole court with "exposure" and "revelations." That's the last thing we want now.

Monday. – Had it all out with Tiresias. He told the most absurd cock and bull story. Utterly preposterous, but very disagreeable even to have such things hinted. Said nothing to Jocasta, as yet. Luckily, there are no proofs. Tiresias has raked up an old shepherd, who is ready to swear I am not the son of the King of Corinth, but the son of Laius, King of Thebes, and of Jocasta (my wife!); and that Laius was the man I accidentally killed years ago on the road to Daulis!

Tiresias says this is the sole cause of the plague, which is getting worse. They now say it is Asiatic.

Thursday. – I interviewed and cross-examined the shepherd in the presence of Tiresias. There seems to be no doubt whatsoever about the facts. But I cannot see that any good can be done now, after all these years, by making a public scandal. It is, after all, a family matter. Tiresias says the plague will not stop unless the whole truth is published. Very awkward. Don't know how to break it to Jocasta.

Friday (dictated). – Jocasta overheard me discussing the matter with Tiresias and jumped, rashly, to conclusions. She had hysterics, and, losing all self-control, seriously injured both my eyes with a pin. I may very likely be blind for life. She was very sorry afterwards, and is now laid up. I and the children leave for Colonnus to-morrow, and it is settled that I am to abdicate in favour of Creon on the plea of ill-health and overwork. The children have been told nothing; but Antigone, who is far too precocious, alluded to Jocasta as grand-mamma. The matter will be hushed up as far as possible.

Citium Colonnus, two months later. – The air here is delicious. Must say the change is doing me good.

XIII

FROM THE DIARY OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

Rouen, 1066. – Disquieting news from London. My friend, benefactor and relation, my brother Sovereign, Edward of England, has again had one of his attacks. It comes, I am sure, from not eating meat. Were anything to happen to him, I should be obliged to go over to London at once and settle as to the carrying on of the Government with Harold. Nothing could be more inconvenient at the present moment. Have the utmost confidence in Harold; but I fear the influence of the English nobility. I like the English; but they are not to be trusted in foreign politics. They are naturally perfidious, and they don't know it. They think they are more virtuous than other people; or rather that they are exempted from the faults and the vices which are common to us all. The European situation seems unsatisfactory.

Among other things Father Anselm writes that a certain party among the Englishwomen want to be admitted to the Witenagemot. The majority of the women are against it. The agitators sent a deputation to Westminster, but the King said it would not be according to the precedents to receive them. They were so annoyed at this that they made a dastardly attack on the beautiful old Druid Temple of Stonehenge, almost completely destroying it. F. Anselm says only a few blocks of stone are left, and that the place is unrecognisable.

The ringleaders were taken and claimed the ordeal by fire and the matter was referred to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who said that it was not a matter to be dealt with by ordeal. (Quite right!) He put the case into the hands of a select body of matrons, chosen from all classes. These decided that the offenders should be publicly whipped by women, and sent home. This was done, much to the satisfaction of everybody.