The Hungarian Quarterly

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When the workers started to demolish it, the statue of Jupiter began tocackle. The conspirators considered it an auspicions sign. Caligula turned

to the oracle of Antium and was given the following warning from the templeof Fortuna.

“Beware Cassius.”2

Charea Cassius, the head officer of the guardsmen and the leader of the rebels,stood pale, encircled by his followers. Every eye was turned on him. Theysensed that Caligula’s invisible gaze also rested on the old centurion, and hisheart and brain were already aflame with suspicion.

Soon the news spread that Caligula had executed Cassius Longinus, hisproconsul of Asia, instead of him.

“Is he mad,” Cassius wondered. “Or is he toying with us all? It seems he hasforgotten all about me.”

He had not forgotten. At six o’clock the next morning he summoned him forquestioning.

Cassius bid farewell to his wife and children. He hastened to the palace likeone going to his death, by sword, dagger, or poison.

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Caligula had been awake since three. He was never able to sleep later. He wastormented by lurid phantasms and haunting nightmares. After several hours offitful sleep he rose, had himself borne to each of the chambers of the palace bytorch and lamplight, dismissed his servants, and continued to roam alone, hishunched back stooped, like the gangling monster of a nightmarish visionlurching to and fro on thin, wobbly legs. He awaited the coming dawn.

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Dezsô Koszto lány i

Caligula(Short story)

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Dezsô Kosztolányi (1885–1936)

He leaned out one of the windows. In the frigid, lead-grey January sky hisglistening beloved was resplendent, the moon, whom he had always longed toclasp in his arms. She did not look his way, but hurried along betwixt the dirtygreen clouds above Rome. He spoke to her, mutely, with his ever fretting tongue.

In the meantime day had begun to break.

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“Cassius,” he greeted his guest, opening his bare, hairy arms. “Come, to mybosom,” he shouted, embracing him.

Terrified, Cassius submitted. Cassius had prepared himself for many things. He had heard that years ago

Caligula had summoned the conspirators to his chamber, pressed his sword tohis chest and offered to slay himself if they so wished, churning their stomachswith his buffoonery. He had heard that the emperor had ordered a nobleman tothe palace in the night and danced for him. He had heard that he had let thecobbler who had called him an impostor go unpunished. But this surprised him.

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“Help me, Cassius,” he continued. “I trust you. I am surrounded by dangers.The palatines begin their games today. I am naming you, Cassius, thecommander of my guardsmen.

He glanced at him, his eyes flaring restlessly, then erupted with laughter.Cassius bowed hesitantly. The emperor sank into a chair, for he was feeble andcould not bear to stand long on his thin legs, which soon caved in like a pairof empty boots.

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“Sit down next to me,” he assured the centurion. “How old are you?”“Fifty-eight.” “I am twenty-nine,” he said in a hurried splutter. “Still young. And you, what

are you after you aged skirt chaser! But I have suffered, Cassius, terribly! In mychildhood Tiberius my uncle looked after me, the old, blood-stained tiger. Hekilled off my entire family. He had my mother banished and forced her tocommit suicide. He had my younger brother Brutus imprisoned and sentencedhim to death by starvation. He wanted to have me killed as well. When I wasbut a boy, he kept me under the constant watch of his spies and informants tosee if I would betray myself and speak ill of him. When I slept they leaned overme and waited to hear what I might say in my dreams. At any moment theycould have mixed poison in with my food. I however remained silent, awake orasleep. I lied. I pulled a mask over my face. I played my part, better than thedark, taciturn old man. I triumphed over him. I saved my own life. And thensuddenly everything was allowed. I tried to live. I failed. I wanted to tear off my

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mask. Again, I failed. My little sister Drusilla, the goddess, died of a ragingfever. I was left alone. In my grief I grew a beard and I looked at the worldaround me. At first I laughed to think that I could have had anyone I cared tokilled. I adored gold. When I was no longer satisfied simply to possess it, Istripped naked and rolled in it, that it might seep through my skin into myblood. I grimaced in the mirror, that I might affright myself. I contrived somegood jests too. I had people’s tongues torn out, had them sawn in half. I hadhundreds of voyagers flung into the sea and was bemused to watch themthrash and flounder to their deaths. I had the citizens of Rome starved, thoughmy granaries were full. I had the manuscripts of great renowned writersdestroyed. Every day I had the statues of the Gods on the field of Mars garbedin clothes like mine, then I had their heads cut off and replaced with my image.I had a marble stable built for my horse and a manger of ivory. I lunchedtogether with him in the stable and almost succeeded in having him namedconsul. There was a time when I was adored. The soldiers called me byendearing nicknames, “moppet” and “precious.” In Rome they slaughteredone-hundred-sixty-thousand brute beasts in three months to celebrate my riseto the throne. Now all this bores me. I cannot sleep. My eyelids grate andcreak. They tell me the trouble is here,” he said, rapping his head with a rod ofgold. “Give me sleep, some elixir bearing dreams.”

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Cassius listened, almost moved by what he heard, but Caligula suddenly roseand extended his hand to bid goodbye. Cassius kissed it. But then he realizedthat his lips were brushing the nail of the emperor’s thumb, folded derisivelybetween the index and middle finger of his outstretched hand.

The blood rushed to his face.“Orangutan!” Caligula waved him off. “Don’t be cross with me. Be

watchful.” And he dismissed him.

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Cassius recounted to his fellow conspirators what had happened.“Slay him!” cried Cornelius Sabinus. “Strike him down and stab him to

death.”The celebratory games and festivities began in the morning. They were

being held in commemoration of Augustus’ military campaign in the east, nearthe emperor’s palace on an improvised stage, for only the most illustriouscitizens, senators, and nobility. Caligula arrived under the escort of hisGermanic guards.

When the emperor had come in, the guardsmen closed every entrancewayand assembled in a line. He waved to them graciously. Some of them he hadpicked up along the banks of the Rhine, during his campaigns in Germania, but

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as he had not captured enough prisoners of war he had also conscriptedRomans among them, requiring them to dye their hair blond and learn andspeak German.

Garbed in a long, yellow robe with a green wreath of laurels on his head, theemperor took his place in front of the altar. As he performed the sacrifice, theblood of the flamingo splattered on him and a red stain spread on the lowerfolds of his gown. Cornelius Sabinus and Cassius exchanged glances.

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The first day passed and then the second without the conspirators havingdared to act. Callistus, once a libertine, now a wealthy citizen, churned withrage at the thought that the abomination yet lived. Caligula freely came andwent among them, urging on the wrestlers and gladiators, applauding thesingers and gymnasts on the pommel horse. This vexed the conspirators. Theybelieved he was toying with them or sought to lure them into a trap.

At noon on the third day Caligula unexpectedly informed Cassius that he wasgoing to the palace to bathe. He walked alone through the crowd, without hisGerman guardsmen. He spoke with people as he passed. He even tuggedCornelius Sabinus’ toga playfully and winked, “so, what are you waiting for?”They did not understand. He ordered the bearers of his litter to take him into thepalace not by the main entrance, but rather by a narrow underground passagewayat the side, where the youthful Asian aristocrats, actors in the play to beperformed, were learning their parts, and as people of the East used to milderclimes, had taken refuge from the cold, for there had been a strong frost that day.

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Here he descended, conversed with his guests, the black Ethiopians and yellowEgyptians, whose lips were purple from the cold. He waited for some time.Finally he heard a gate clang shut, then the clatter of it being locked, then inthe distance towards the far end of the passageway he saw the glow of severalflames, and slowly, very slowly several more as they approached. At the front,like an apparition long familiar from dreams come to an assignation, Cassius.

“The password,” Cassius asked formally, with soldierly rigidity.“Jupiter,” cried Caligula at the top of his voice.“Then die in his name,” screamed Cassius, plunging his sword into his

chest, between his outstretched arms.Caligula came crashing to the ground. Blood gurgled forth from his chest.“I live,” he shouted, as if in mockery or lamentation.At this Cornelius Sabinus, Callistus, and the others fell on him. Suddenly

thirty blades bathed in his blood.Caligula still moved.“I live,” he felt once again.

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But then he went miraculously pallid, and all he felt was that the world waswithout him, the mountains, the streams, even the stars, and he was no more.His head sank. His eyes opened, and he beheld almost ecstatically what he hadalways sought and now finally found: nothingness.

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His face was white, bloodless, and simple. The mask of frenzy had fallen fromit. Only his face remained.

A soldier stared at him for some time. He felt as if he now recognized him.He thought, to himself, “a man.”

(1935)

Translated by Thomas Cooper

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Dezsô Kosztolányi, 1935 Photograph by László Székely (?)

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