“I myself am not a learned man,” I said, “although I have read the philosophers and a number of poets and written a book on Britain which can still be found on the shelves of the public libraries. I cannot compete with you in the art of learning and debate. I do not believe much and I generally do not pray for things, for it seems irrational to pray for things about which an inexplicable God knows best He will no doubt see to my needs if he finds reason to do so. I am tired of your long-winded prayers. Should I employ a prayer, then I should wish to be able to whisper at the moment of my death: Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me. I do not imagine that my evil deeds and crimes would be palliated in his eyes by a few good deeds. A wealthy man is never without guilt; the tears of his slaves alone are his crimes. But never mind. I understand those people who give their property to the poor to follow Christ. I myself prefer to keep what I own for my son and the common good, for otherwise it might go to someone more cruel than I, to the disadvantage of the many who receive their bread from me. Therefore spare my glass bowls from your quarrels, for they are not only expensive but also dear to my heart.”
They controlled themselves out of respect for my rank and position, although perhaps they flew at each other’s throats as soon as they had left my house and my good wine. But don’t think that by telling you this I have committed myself to Christianity, Julius, my son. I know enough of Jesus of Nazareth and his kingdom not to dare give myself such a pretentious name as Christian, so I have not been able to bring myself to receive their baptism despite your mother’s insistence.
I am content to remain what I am, with my human weaknesses and my failings, and do not even defend my actions, which you will know from these memoirs, or the reasons I have inevitably been forced to do some things which I have regretted later. But these too will be useful to you.
Of my moral failings I wish to say that practically no man is blameless, not even the holy men who are dedicated to God. But I can assure you that I have never deliberately used another person simply for my own pleasure. I have always acknowledged the human value of my bedmate, whether she was a slave-girl or a freewoman.
But I think that the greatest moral failings do not occur in bed, as many people think, but that the worst is hardness of heart. Be careful not to harden your heart, my son, however far you rise and whatever difficulties you have to face in life. A certain human vanity is perhaps permitted, within sensible and reasonable limits, as long as you yourself do not value your learned and poetic results too highly. Do not think that I do not know that you are competing with Juvenal in the art of writing verse.
533
As I write this I feel as if I love the whole world for allowing me to experience another spring. So I think that when I come to Rome I shall pay the debts of your friend Juvenal and he may gladly keep his beard. Why should I annoy you and put a distance between us by despising a friend to whom you are close, for reasons which to me are incomprehensible?
My heart swells with the desire to tell you things. So I shall tell you about the spring I have just experienced, for I have no one else to tell, and you will not read these memoirs until after my death, when you will perhaps understand your old father better. How very much easier it is to get to know and understand a strange child than one’s own son. But this is presumably every father’s curse, now and forever, even if we always wish for the best.
I do not know how to begin. But you know that I have never wished to return to Britain, despite my interests there and my desire to see Lugundanum growing into a real town. I am afraid I should no longer see Britain as the lovely country I experienced in my youth during my journeys with Lugunda. Perhaps I was bewitched by the Druids then and even Britain seems beautiful to me, but I do not wish to lose this memory by going there again with my fifty-year-old coarsened and dulled senses, now that I no longer believe good of human beings.
But this spring I have been able to live as if I were still young. Naturally the whole thing has been a fragile enchantment of the kind that dulls the sight with laughter and tears in a man such as I. You are unlikely ever to meet her, my son, for I myself think it better never to see her again after this, both for her own sake as well as for my own.
She is of comparatively low descent, but her parents have maintained the ancient traditions and simple customs of the country because of their poverty. She is even surprised that my tunic is of silk. I have liked telling her about past events in my life, beginning from the lion cubs which my wife Sabina took into our bed and forced me to feed. She has listened to me patiently and at the same time I have been able to observe the changes of expression in her unusual eyes.
It has also been necessary for me to search my memory in the evenings as I pardy wrote and pardy dictated these memoirs, which I hope will one day be useful to you so that you do not believe too much good of human beings and be disappointed. No ruler can wholeheartedly trust any single man. It is the heaviest burden of absolute rule. Remember too, my son, that too great a dependence brings its revenge.
534
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