The Visions of Dom Francisco de Quevedo Villegas

by Francisco de Quevedo

This discourse of Cæsar’s struck Brutus with exceeding shame and confusion; but at length, with a feeble and trembling voice, he delivered himself to this effect. “Gentlemen of the Senate,” says he, “do ye not hear Cæsar? or will ye add sin to sin, and suffer all the blame to be cast upon the instruments, when you yourselves were the contrivers of the villainy? Why do ye not answer? for Cæsar speaks to you, as well as to us. Cassius and myself were but your bravoes, and governed by your persuasions and advice, little dreaming of that insatiable ambition that lay lurking under the gravity of your long beards and robes. But ’tis the practice of you all, to arraign that tyranny in the prince, which you would exercise yourselves: in effect, when you have gotten power, and the colour of authority in your hands, it is more dangerous for a prince not to comply with you than for a vassal to rebel against his prince. To what end served your perfidious and ungrateful treason? Make answer to Cæsar. But for our parts, in the conscience of our sin, we feel the severity of our punishment.”

At these words a hollow-eyed, supercilious senator (that had been of the conspiracy, and was then blazing like a pitched barrel) raised himself, and with a faint voice asked Cæsar what reason he had to complain! “For, prince,” says he, “if King Ptolomy murdered Pompey the Great, upon whose score he held his kingdom, why might not the Senate as well kill you, to recover what you had taken from them? And in the case betwixt Cæsar and Pompey, let the devils themselves be judges. As for Achilles (who was one of the murderers) what he did, was by Ptolomy’s command, and then he was but a free-booter neither, a fellow that got his living by rapine and spoil: but Cæsar was undoubtedly the more infamous of the two. ’Tis true, you wept at the sight of Pompey’s head, but such tears as were more treacherous than the steel that killed him. Ah cruel compassion and revengeful piety! that made thee a more barbarous enemy to Pompey, dead than living. Oh that ever two hypocrite eyes should creep into the first head of the world! To conclude, the death of Cæsar had been the recovery of our republic, if the multitude had not called in others of his race to the government, which rendered thy fall the very hydra of the empire.”

We had had another skirmish upon these words, if Lucifer had not commanded Cæsar to his cell again, upon pain of death; and there to abide such correction as belonged to him, for slighting the warnings he had of his disaster. Brutus and Cassius too were turned over to the politic fools: and the senators were dispatched away to Minos and Rhadamanthus, and to sit as assistants in the devils’ bench.

After this I heard a murmuring noise, as of people talking at a distance, and by degrees I made it out that they were wrangling and disputing still louder and louder, till at length it was but a word and a blow, and the nearer I came the greater was the clamour. This made me mend my pace; but before I could reach them, they were all together by the ears in a bloody fray: they were persons of great quality all of them, as emperors, magistrates, generals of armies. Lucifer, to take up the quarrel, commanded them peace and silence, and they all obeyed, but it vexed them to the hearts to be so taken off in the full career of their fury and revenge. The first that opened his mouth was a fellow so martyred with wounds and scars, that I took him at first for an indigent officer; but it proved to be Clitus (as he said himself). And one at his elbow told him, he was a saucy companion, for presuming to speak before his time; and so desired audience of Lucifer, for the high and mighty Alexander, the son of Jupiter, and the emperor and terror of the world: he was going on with his qualities and titles; but an officer gave the word, Silence, and bade Clitus begin; which he took very kindly, and told his story.

“If it may please your Majesty,” says he, “I was the first favourite of this emperor, who was then lord of all the known world, bare the title of the King of Kings, and boasted himself for the son of Jupiter Hammon; and yet after all this glory and conquest, he was himself a slave to his passions: he was rash and cruel, and consequently incapable either of counsel or friendship. While I lived I was near him, and served him faithfully; but it seems he did not entertain me so much for my fidelity as to augment the number of his flatterers; but I found myself too honest for a base office; and still as he ran into any foul excesses, I took a freedom, with all possible modesty, to show him his mistakes. One day, as he was talking slightly of his father Philip (that brave prince, from whom he received as well his honour as his being) I told him frankly what I thought of that ingratitude and vanity, and desired him to treat his dead father with more reverence, as a prince worthy of eternal honour and respect. This commendation of Philip so inflamed him, that presently he took a partisan and struck me dead in the place with his own hand. After this, pray’e where was his divinity, when he gave Abdolominus, (a poor garden-weeder) the kingdom of Sidonia, which was not, as the world would have it, out of any consideration of his virtue, but to mortify and take down the pride and insolence of the Persians. Meeting him here just now in hell, I asked him what was become of his father Jupiter now, that he lay so long by’t, and whether he were not yet convinced that all his flatterers were a company of rascals, who with their incense and altars would persuade him that he was of divine extraction and heir-apparent to the throne and thunder of Jupiter. This now was the ground of our quarrel. But, invectives apart, who but a tyrant would have put a loyal subject to death, only for his affection and regards to the memory of his dead father? how barbarously did he treat his favourites, Parmenio, Philotas, Calisthenes, Amintas, etc., so that good or bad is all a case, for ’tis crime enough to be the favourite of a tyrant; as, in the course of human life, every man dies because he is mortal, and the disease is rather the pretext of his death than the cause of it.” “You find now,” says Satan, “that tyrants will show their people many a dog trick, when the humour takes them. The good they hate, for not being wicked; and the bad, because they are no worse. How many favourites have you ever seen come to a fair and timely end? Remember the emblem of the sponge, and that’s the use that princes make of their favourites: they let them suck and fill, and then squeeze them for their own profit.”

At that word there was heard a lamentable cry, and at the same time a venerable old man, as pale as if he had no blood in his veins, came up to Lucifer, and told him that his emblem of the sponge came very pat to his case; “for,” says he, “I was a great favourite, and a great hoarder of treasure, a Spaniard by birth, the tutor and confidant of Nero, and my name is Seneca. Indeed his bounties were to excess, he gave me without asking, and in taking I was never covetous but obedient. It is in the nature of princes, and it befits their quality, to be liberal where they take a liking, both of honour and fortunes; and ’tis hard for a subject to refuse, without some reflection upon the generosity or discretion of his master. For ’tis not the merit or modesty of the vassal, but the glory of the prince that is in question; and he is the best subject that contributes the most to the splendour and reputation of his sovereign. Nero indeed gave me as much as such a prince could bestow, and I managed his liberalities with all the moderation imaginable; yet all too little to preserve me from the strokes of envious and malicious tongues, which would have it, that my philosophising upon the contempt of the world was nothing else but a mere imposture, that with less danger and notice I might feed and entertain my avarice, and with the fewer competitors. Finding my credit with my master declining, it stood me upon to provide some way or other for my quiet, and to withdraw myself from being the mark of a public envy. So I went directly to Nero, and with all possible respect and humility made him a present back again of his own bounties. The truth is, I had so great a passion for his service, that neither the severity of his nature nor the debauchery of his manners could ever deter me from exhorting him to nobler courses, and paying him all the duties of a loyal subject. Especially in cases of cruelty and blood, I laid it perpetually home to his conscience, but all to little purpose; for he put his mother to death, laid the city of Rome in ashes, and indeed depopulated the empire of honest men. And this drew on Piso’s conspiracy, which was better laid than executed; for upon the discovery, the prime instruments lost their lives; and by Divine Providence this prince was preserved, in order (as one would have thought) to his repentance and change of life. But upon the issue the conspiracy was prevented, and Nero never the better. At the same time he put Lucan to death, only for being a better poet than himself. And if he gave me my choice what death to die, it was rather cruelty than pity; for in the very deliberation which death to choose, I suffered all even in the terror and apprehension that made me refuse the rest. The election I made was to bleed to death in a bath, and I finished my own dispatches hither; where, to my further affliction, I have again encountered this infamous prince, studying new cruelties and instructing the very devils themselves in the art of tormenting.”

At that word Nero advanced, with his ill-favoured face and shrill voice. “It is very well,” says he, “for a prince’s favourite or tutor to be wiser than his master; but let him manage that advantage then with respect, and not like a rash and insolent fool make proclamation presently to the world, that he’s the wiser of the two. While Seneca kept himself within those bounds, I lodged him in my bosom, and the love I had for that man was the glory of my government; but when he came to publish once (what he should have dissembled or concealed) that it was not Nero but Seneca that ruled the empire, nothing less than his blood could make satisfaction for so intolerable a scandal, and from that hour I resolved his ruin. And I had rather suffer what I do a hundred times over than entertain a favourite that should raise his credit upon my dishonour. Whether I have reason on my side or no, I appeal to all this princely assembly: draw near, I beseech ye, as many as are here, and speak freely, my royal brethren, Did ye ever suffer any favourite to escape unpunished, that had the impudence to write [I and my king] to make a stale of majesty, and to publish himself a better statesman than his master?” “No, no,” they cried out all with one voice, “it never was, and never shall be endured, while the world lasts: for we have left our successors under an oath to have a care on’t. ’Tis true, a wise counsellor at a prince’s elbow is a treasure, and ought to be so esteemed while he makes it his business to cry up the abilities and justice of his sovereign; but in the instant that his vanity transports him to the contrary, away with him to the dogs, and down with him, for there’s no enduring of it.”

“All this,” cried Sejanus, “does not yet concern me; for though I had indeed more brains than Tiberius, yet I so ordered it that he had the credit in public of all my private advices. And so sensible he was of my services, that he made me his partner and companion in the empire; he caused my statues to be erected, and invested them with sacred privileges. ‘Let Sejanus live,’ was the daily cry of the people; and in truth, my well-being was the joy of the empire; and far and near there were public prayers and vows offered up for my health. But what was the end of all? When I thought myself surest in my master’s arms and favour, he let me fall, nay he threw me down, caused me to be cut in pieces, delivering me up to the fury of a barbarous and enraged multitude, that dragged me along the streets, and happy was he that could get a piece of my flesh to carry upon a javelin’s point in triumph. And it had been well if this inhuman cruelty had stopped here; but it extended to my poor children, who, though unconcerned in my crimes, were yet to partake in my fate. A daughter I had, whom the very law exempted from the stroke of justice, because of her virginity; but to clear that scruple, she was condemned first to be ravished by the hangman, and then to be beheaded, and treated as her father. My first failing was upon temerity and pride: I would outrun my destiny, defy fortune; and for Divine Providence I looked upon it as a ridiculous thing. When I was once out of the way, I thought doing worse was somewhat in order to being better; and then I began to fortify myself by violence, against craft and malice. Some were put to death, others banished, till, in fine, all the powers of heaven and earth declared themselves against me. I had recourse to all sorts of ill people and means. I had my physician for poisoning, my assassins for revenge; I had my false witnesses and corrupt judges; and, in truth, what instruments of wickedness had I not? And all this, not upon choice or inclination, but purely out of the necessity of my condition. Whenever I should come to fall, I was sure to be forsaken both of good and bad; and therefore I shunned the better sort, as those that would only serve to accuse me; but the lewd and vicious I frequented, to increase the number of my complices, and make my party the stronger. But, after all, if Tiberius was a tyrant, I’ll swear he was never so by my advice; but, on the contrary, I have suffered more from him for plain dealing and dissuading him, than the very subjects of his severity have commonly suffered by him. I know, ’tis charged upon me, that I stirred him up to cruelty, to render him odious, and to ingratiate myself to the people. But who was his adviser, I pray ’e, in this butcherly proceeding against me? Oh Lucifer, Lucifer! you know very well that ’tis the practice of tyrants, when they do amiss themselves, and set their people a-grumbling, to lay all the blame (and punishment too) upon the instrument; and hang up the minister for the master’s fault. ‘This is the end of all favourites,’ cries one; ‘Not a halfpenny matter if they were all served so,’ says another. And every historian has his saying upon this catastrophe, and sets up a buoy to warn after-ages of the rock of court favours. The greatness of a favourite, I must confess, proclaims the greatness of his maker; and the prince that maintains what he has once raised does but justify the prudence of his own choice; and whenever he comes to undo what he has done, publishes himself to be light and unconstant, and does as good as declare himself (even against himself) of the enemy’s party.”

Up stepped Plaintain then, (Severus his favourite) he that was tossed out of a garret window to make the people sport. “My condition in the world,” says he, “was perfectly like that of a rocket or fire-work: I was carried up to a prodigious height in a moment, and all people’s eyes were upon me, as a star of the first magnitude; but my glory was very short-lived, and down I fell into obscurity and ashes.” After him, appeared a number of other favourites; and all of them hearkening to Bellisarius the favourite of Justinian, who, blind as he was, had already knocked twice with his staff, and shaking his head, with a weak and complaining voice, desired audience; which was at length granted him, silence commanded; and he said, as follows.

“Princes,” said he, “before they destroy the creatures they have raised and chosen, should do well to consider, that cruelty and inconstancy is much a greater infamy to a prince than the worst effects of it can be to a favourite. For my own part, I served an emperor that was both a Christian and a great lover and promoter of justice. And yet, after all the services I had done him, in several battles and adventures, (insomuch that he was effectually become my debtor, for the very glory of his empire) my reward, in the end, was to have my eyes put out, and (with a dog and a bell) to be turned a-begging from door to door. Thus was that Bellisarius treated, whose very name formerly was worth an army, and he was the soul of his friends as well as the terror of his enemies. But a prince’s favour is like quick-silver—restless and slippery, never to be fixed, never secured. Force it, and it spends itself in fumes; sublime it, and ’tis a mortal poison. Handle it only, and it works itself into the very bones; and all that have to do with it, live and die pale and trembling.”