Messiah

by Gore Vidal

Here and there, against the gusty blue sky, banners with the single word “Cave,” gold on blue, snapped: In hoc signo indeed!

Then the commentators who had been exclaiming at some length on the size of the crowd, excitedly announced the arrival of Cave. A roar of sound filled the plaza. The banners were waved back and forth against the sky and I saw everywhere the theatrical hand of Paul Himmell.

The scene shifted to the House of Representatives entrance to the Capitol. Cave wearing an overcoat but bareheaded, stepped out of the limousine. He was alone. Neither Paul nor Iris was in sight. It was most effective that he should come like this, without equerries or counselors. He stood for a moment in the pillared entrance, aware of the crowd outside; even through the commentator’s narrative one could hear, like the surf falling: Cave! Cave! Cave! For a moment it seemed that he might turn and go, not into the Capitol, but out onto the steps to the crowd; but then the chief of the Capitol guard, sensing perhaps that this might happen, gently steered him up the stairs.

The next shot was of the Committee Room where the hearings had at last begun. A somewhat phlegmatic Jesuit was testifying. His words were difficult to hear because of the noise in the committee room, and the impotent shouts of the chairman. The commentator gave a brief analysis of the Jesuit’s attack on Cave and then, in the midst of a particularly loud exchange between the chairman and the crowd, the clerk of the court proclaimed: John Cave.

There was silence. The crowd parted to make way for him. Even the members of the committee craned to get a good look at him as he moved quietly, almost demurely, to the witness chair. The only movement in the room was that of the Papal Nuncio who, in his robes, sat in the front rank of the audience. He crossed himself as Cave passed and shut his eyes.

Cave was respectful, almost inaudible. Several times he was asked to repeat his answers even though the room was remarkably still. At first Cave would answer only in monosyllables, not looking up, not meeting the gaze of his interrogators who took heart at this, professionals themselves: their voices which had almost matched his for inaudibility, began to boom with confidence.

I waited for the lightning. The first intimation came when Cave looked up. For nearly five minutes he had not raised his eyes once during the questioning. Suddenly he looked up and I saw that he was trying to locate the camera; he did, and it was like a revelation: a sudden shock went through me and as well as I knew him, as few illusions as I had about him, I was arrested by his gaze ... it was as though only he and I existed, as though he were I; all of those who watched responded in the same fashion to that unique gaze.

The Committee, however, was not aware of what had happened, that their intended victim had with one glance appropriated the eye of the world. The subsequent catechism is too well known to record here; we used it as the main exposition of Cavesword, the one testament which contained the entire thing. It was almost as if the Congressmen had been given the necessary questions to ask, like those supporting actors whose minor roles are designed to illuminate the genius of the star. Two of the seven members of the Committee were Cavites. This was soon apparent. The other five were violently in opposition. One as a Catholic, another as a Protestant, and two as materialistic lovers of the old order. Only one of the attackers, a quiet scholarly-looking Jew, made any real point. He argued the perniciousness of an organization which, if allowed to prosper, would replace the state and force all dissenters to conform; it was his contention that the state prospered most when no one system was sufficiently strong to dominate. I wanted to hear more of him but his Catholic colleague, a bull-voiced Irishman, drowned him out, winning the day for the Cavites.

Cave, to my astonishment, had memorized most of the dialogues I’d written and he said my words with the same power that he said his own. I was startled by this. There had been no hint that such a thing might happen and I couldn’t, for some time, determine the motive until I recalled Cave’s reluctance to being quoted in print; he had apparently realized that now there would be a complete record of his testimony and so, for the sake of both literacy and consistency, he had committed to memory those words of mine which were thought to be his. At the great moment, however, the peroration (by which time there were no more questions and Cave’s voice alone was heard) he became himself, and spoke Cavesword.

Then, without the Committee’s leave, in the dazzled silence which followed upon his last words, he got up abruptly and left the room. I switched off the television set. That week established Cavesword in the country and, except for various priests and ministers of the deserted gods, the United States was Cavite.