 
Recommendations

"Professor Claassen is an internationally acknowledged expert on the relationship between Roman history and culture and the concerns of writers today. Her translation marks an important extension of the availability of Afrikaans texts to anglophone readers ..."

Prof. Lorna Hardwick: Open University, United Kingdom

"This translation is exciting, thorough and very readable. Its language is as gripping as the original. Jo-Marie Claassen's Introduction has taught me more about Germanicus and about Van Wyk Louw's classical background than my many years of cursory skimming through the original without the contextualisation that she provides ..."

Nico (P.N.) Muller: Online Editor Fairfax Sundays, Auckland, New Zealand

"I believe that the publication of this play in English will attract the attention of scholars in the booming field of classical reception ..."

Prof. William J. Dominik: University of Otago, New Zealand

GERMANICUS

A drama in verse

by NP Van Wyk Louw

Translated and

with an Introduction

by Jo-Marie Claassen

Published by Jo-Marie Claassen at Smashwords

First edition 2013

Copyright © N.P. van Wyk Louw

(Originally published in Afrikaans by Tafelberg, an imprint of NB Publishers, Cape Town, South Africa in 1956)

Cover design © Jo-Marie Claassen

www.dragonflyebooks.co.uk

This is the first translation into English of the verse drama Germanicus by the Afrikaans poet N.P. Van Wyk Louw. The work was based on the first three chapters of the _Annales_ of the Roman historiographer Tacitus. After the death of Emperor Augustus, his successor Tiberius' adopted son Germanicus recoils from the cruelty inherent in imperial rule. In the end he helplessly acquiesces, finally welcoming his own death as a means of escape from the burden of empire.

The drama has been considered a highlight in Afrikaans literature since its publication in 1956. Its interest lies in its amazing sweep of words, Louw's sense of history and his portrayal of the inevitability of the corruption inherent in power. Louw's great monologues dominate the debates between his main protagonists. His poetic Afrikaans had a grand eloquence that swept his audience along in a torrent of densely-argued meaning. Such conciseness offered severe challenges to the translator. Claassen's colloquial translation manages to capture both the essence of Louw's dramatic dialogues and the rhythmic cadences of the original poetry.

The translator provides a lengthy Introduction, aimed at both a classical and a theatre-going readership, explaining the historical background and discussing Louw's interpretation of Tacitus' narrative and the constraints under which a translator works. A brief overview of the contents of the drama's eight scenes is followed by a select bibliography.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Translator's Preface

Simplified Family Tree of the Julio-Claudians

Introduction

Historical background

Patronage and obligation

Tacitean antecedents of Louw's drama

The origins and reception of the drama

Dominant themes in the drama

The character of Germanicus as presented by Tacitus and by Louw

Louw's characterization of the three male protagonists

The women

Historicity of the drama

On Translating Louw's Afrikaans

Conclusion

Notes

Brief Overview of the Contents of the Drama

Translation

Part I: Roman Encampment Near the Rhine Border

Scene 1 Roman camp in northern France, evening

Scene 2 Piso's tent, that same night

Scene 3 Agrippina's tent, that same night

Scene 4 Germany: Germanicus' official tent, one week later.

Part II: Rome

Scene 5 Livia's palace, some months later

Scene 6 Palace of Tiberius, a few days later

Part III: The Roman Near East

Scene 7 The palace of the Nabataean king, some months later

Scene 8 Daphne, in front of the temple of Apollo, a month later

Select Bibliography

About the Author

About the Translator

Other Books by Translator

Copyright

Book Description

Full Recommendations

Notes:

(1) Louw did not employ scene or line numbers, but scenes have been numbered to facilitate reference.

(2) Words or lines quoted in the Introduction are referenced by means of such scene numbering only: use the 'search' facility to find the context of each within this text.

_(3)_ In this text Louw's pages are marked by means of figures within square brackets immediately to the right of the translation of the first line of each of his pages. In the 'Overview of Contents' passages cited are referenced by means of such pagination plus line numbers (each page notionally beginning with a 'line 1'). This will aid _readers who wish to compare passages with the original Afrikaans version of the drama._

Foreword

The verse drama _Germanicus_ by the Afrikaans poet and dramatist N.P. Van Wyk Louw (1906-1970) is based on the first three chapters of the _Annales_ of the Roman historiographer Tacitus. The drama is a highlight in Afrikaans literature that deserves international attention. It has also on occasion been produced for the radio, its chief interest lying in its magnificent linguistic display.

Its author, Van Wyk Louw, towered over the Afrikaans literary scene as poet and essayist for the central four decades of the twentieth century. He was the first and perhaps the most prominent of the so-called _dertigers_ ('writers of the thirties') who worked to rejuvenate Afrikaans literature during the first half of the century. Louw led the way in rejecting a limited, colonial-style literature, concentrating rather on a functional, intellectual and self-analytical poetic style which was rich in symbolism and imagery.

Louw's influence was such that he may also be considered the role model for, if not also the doyen of, the _sestigers_ ('writers of the sixties'), another wave of innovative poets and novelists who in that decade broke further new ground in Afrikaans literature, again sending it in new directions and in many ways preparing its readership for the political changes initiated in South Africa some thirty-odd years later.

The interest of this drama lies, however, less in its political undertones than in its amazing sweep of words, Louw's interpretative sense and his sense of history. Louw is at his best in the great monologues that dominate the various debates between the main protagonists. His non-standard Afrikaans has a grand eloquence that sweeps the reader or listener along in a torrent of densely-argued meaning.

Louw's poetic Afrikaans is so concise that it requires an effort to be as brief in English. 'Shakespearian English', both lexis and word-order, is closer to the Germanic Afrikaans, but would be unacceptable in a modern translation. This more colloquial translation tries to avoid any strangeness of diction while aiming to convey the extent of Louw's genius to an international readership by adhering to the rhythms and, where possible, the cadences, of the original. The translation is pitched at both a classical and a theatre-going readership, hence the lengthy Introduction, which conveys information and background necessary for the appreciation of the drama by both groups.

Translator's Preface

I first saw Louw's _Germanicus_ performed in 1956 while still at school, and for a second time in the early 1970s (when I had gained considerably more experience of Roman history), at a production of the Stellenbosch University Drama Department. That performance awakened my ambition to bring this great play to the attention of the anglophone classical and theatrical worlds.

The staff of NB Publishers, Cape Town, Louw's literary executors, are thanked for entrusting me with the exhilarating task of realising my ambition and for licensing me to publish this volume. Particular thanks to Catrina Wessels, Marga Stoffer, Eloise Wessels and Kerneels Breytenbach for advice and practical help.

The publication of this translation as an e-book would not have been possible without the help of my editor and agent, Lisl Haldenwang of Dragonfly eBooks, UK. Thanks to the University of Stellenbosch Research fund for subvention of publishing costs.

Parts of the Introduction derive from two papers of mine (listed in the Select Bibliography). Both appeared in _Akroterion_. My thanks to its former editor, Christoff Zietsman, then of Stellenbosch, now of the University of the Free State, for permission to use these. The kindness of the late John Betts of Bristol, who shortly before his untimely death carefully scrutinised and annotated the Introduction, is gratefully remembered. Its present format is thanks to his perspicacious advice.

My husband Piet is thanked for help with the simplification of the Caesars' family tree, and for proofreading the translation. Our friend Frans Maritz is gratefully remembered and his widow Jessie is again thanked for their birthday gift of more than forty years ago – the tenth reprint of Louw's text (Cape Town: Tafelberg-Uitgewers, 1970), which formed the basis of this translation.

My friend Maridien Schneider is thanked for technical help with my original draft. Thanks also to the Louw heirs, in particular Peter Louw and Nico Muller, for their whole-hearted encouragement of my venture.

Stellenbosch, May 2013

Van Wyk Louw's _Germanicus_

Introduction

_Historical background_

The South African poet and dramatist N.P. van Wyk Louw based his metrical drama _Germanicus_ (1956) on the first chapters of the _Annales_ of the Roman historiographer Cornelius Tacitus (c.55-c.116 AD). The dramatic structure of Tacitus' _Annales_ has been the subject of considerable scholarly interest. Louw turned Tacitus' narrative relating the role of Cnaeus Calpurnius Piso in the death of the Roman prince Germanicus, step-grandson of the emperor Augustus, into a cohesive play.

The drama, like the historical narrative upon which it is based, treats of the era that was initiated by the death of the Roman emperor Augustus in 14 AD and ended with the death of Germanicus in 19 AD. Augustus had taken over control of an annually revolving electoral republican system that no longer worked and which his great-uncle and adoptive father, Julius Caesar, had, by initiating a 'perpetual dictatorship', effectively ended. Caesar's assassination by a coterie of Republican-minded senators (44 BC) was followed by a time of political manoeuvring which ended with the ascendance of Caesar's grandnephew Octavian over his rival, Mark Antony, who had served under the dictator Julius Caesar as his 'Master of the Horse'. Octavian had been posthumously adopted in Caesar's will as his son and heir. He later adopted the name 'Augustus', by which he was subsequently known.

By 27 BC Augustus had perfected his adoptive father's autocratic system of government in Rome under the guise of 'restoring' the Republic, with himself as _princeps_ , that is, 'first among equals'. The Roman empire as a geographical concept now gained its metaphysical stature as 'principate', a hereditary, virtually monarchical, way of exercising rule over almost the whole of Europe south and west of the Rhine, as well as the lands fringing the Mediterranean.

Augustus' supreme power in government was ostensibly subject to renewal from time to time, with the sporadic awarding of 'tribunician power'. This meant that the _princeps_ had the same rights as a so-called 'tribune of the people' (another of the annual positions within the state that had by now virtually lapsed in importance). Like the Republican people's tribunes, the _princeps_ had the power to convene the Senate and to veto laws, and most importantly, his person was sacrosanct. Anyone inflicting physical harm on him would be guilty of _irreligio_ , which concept later became the basis for prosecutions of _laesa maiestas_ (harm to the greatness of the _princeps_ ). By now the title of _imperator_ (military commander), that had been won by Julius Caesar in a genuine military context, had also become the sole prerogative of the _princeps_ or members of his family, simultaneously gaining the meaning that is now attached to the term 'emperor'. The concomitant term 'empire' hence came to denote both the physical bounds of Roman hegemony and the new (unwritten) 'Roman constitution': the principate of the _imperator_.

Augustus was desperate to ensure dynastic continuation with concomitant stability of rule in an empire that could no longer afford the annual republican electoral upheavals of the kind that had worked well when Rome had been a small, self-contained city-state. Hence he needed an heir who could continue the family name. Augustus had many years before married his second wife Livia Drusilla while she was still pregnant by her former husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero. She then already had a little boy of three, named after his father. Three months after her marriage to Augustus, Livia bore a son who was named Drusus. There was no issue from the marriage of Livia and Augustus, but their respective children and grandchildren intermarried, so that the term _Julio-Claudian_ is applied to their combined dynasty, a dynasty that ended only with the death of the emperor Nero (AD 59). See the simplified family tree above.

Augustus clearly did not see his stepson Tiberius (the elder son of his wife Livia) as a potential successor in the principate, but rather sought to find a successor within his own blood line. Having no son of his own, he adopted in turn various members of his immediate family. He coerced his daughter, Julia (usually known as 'Julia the Elder'), his only child from an earlier marriage, successively to marry three different candidates that would be suitable for furthering her father's dynastic aspirations, but she was twice widowed. Gaius and Lucius, Julia's two sons by her second husband Agrippa, a friend and lieutenant of her father's, were first adopted by their grandfather. Unfortunately both died young and their brother Agrippa Postumus was deemed to be of a totally unsuitable temperament. He was therefore banished to an island off the coast of Italy. Only as final resort was Julia forced to marry her stepbrother Tiberius. They had a child, but it, too, died. In the end Julia rebelled against such coercion by resorting to a life of profligacy, possibly also of political treachery. In 2 BC her third and last husband, her stepbrother Tiberius, divorced her, and she, too, was sent by her father into exile on a small island off the Italian coast.

Augustus' stepsons Tiberius and Drusus both served as generals in Augustus' military campaigns to consolidate the empire. Drusus married Augustus' niece Antonia (daughter of Augustus' sister Octavia and Mark Antony) and fathered a boy who later was given the nickname 'Germanicus' after Drusus' military victories. Tiberius was also an able general, but never as popular with the Romans as was his charismatic brother Drusus, who died young. Only when all other candidates had fallen by the wayside, did Augustus, who was then in his seventies, adopt his fifty-seven-year-old stepson Tiberius (who, by virtue of his divorce from Julia, was no longer Augustus' son-in-law) as his son and heir, appointing him as his successor to the principate. Augustus simultaneously forced Tiberius virtually to repudiate his own son by an earlier marriage and to adopt as his heir his nephew Germanicus, the son of the late Drusus.

This Germanicus (who was Livia's grandson but also related by blood to Augustus through his grandmother Octavia, Augustus' sister) was by then married to Agrippina, Augustus' granddaughter, the daughter of Augustus' disgraced daughter Julia. Germanicus, his wife and their offspring were therefore the closest that Augustus could get to successors of his own blood line.

_Patronage and obligation_

Such complicated familial arrangements were facilitated by the Roman custom of adult adoption (often necessary for the disposal of family inheritance) and, in a dynastic context, these arrangements were necessitated by military exigencies and encouraged by the Roman custom of _obligatio_. This system meant that in Rome rich and poor were tied together through a complicated series of mutual obligations: political, business or military ties were inherited into perpetuity. Political, military and civic roles were played out over time by the same sets of great families with their extensive _obligatio_ -networks, and often by the same individuals, who moved from one sphere to another (civic to military and back) in an electoral system of rotating, unpaid positions, known as the _cursus honorum_. Annual elections more often than not resulted merely in the perpetuation of the power of these families. Occasionally a 'new man', such as the orator Cicero, who became _consul_ in the year of Augustus' birth, achieved a position within these ranks, but Cicero was the exception. Patronage of members of the poorer classes by these great families meant that so-called ' _clientes_ ' were obliged to give their vote to their affluent and powerful ' _patrones_ '.

Soldiers swore loyalty not to Rome, but to their general. At the end of their military service, veterans were given the franchise at Rome, and also remained in a client-patron relationship with their general, who might then be seeking public office in the state. The combination of the systems of _obligatio_ and _patrocinatio_ (patronage) meant that veterans were expected to vote for their former general, or for anyone else carrying his family name. Almost invariably this name would represent one of the closed group of great families that dominated the higher public offices.

Julius Caesar and Augustus after him had managed largely to supersede the power of these great families, while at the same time pretending still to adhere to the republican system, but the balance of power was precarious. In the widely spread-out empire there was always not only the danger of revolt by local peoples, but also the threat of rebellion by competing Roman generals. Julius Caesar had been a great and highly successful military leader and so there were many soldiers tied to his family name by the bonds of _obligatio_. Augustus had to ensure that someone carrying the Julian surname could continue after him in the highest public offices so that stability and order would be maintained in the military (which offered the only means whereby the Roman empire was to be controlled). As we have noted, Roman custom did not expect Roman soldiers to be loyal to the state, but to individual generals, and so there had to be a successful general bearing the surname 'Julius'. The Julian name was a guarantee of continued military stability. This fact underlies in part the obligation that Van Wyk Louw portrays Germanicus and Tiberius as both feeling to maintain the stability of the empire by whatever means possible. By adoption both had become Julians, as had Augustus before them.

_Tacitean antecedents of Louw's drama_

The Roman historian Tacitus wrote his works toward the end of the first century AD, by which time autocratic rule had been so firmly established that the speciousness of Augustus' vaunted 'restoration of the Republic' had become only too obvious. Tacitus' various works (of which some large parts have been lost) reflect their author's own yearnings for a lost Republic. His _Historiae_ dealt with the Roman emperors from the year 69 AD, which had seen four emperors follow each other in bloody succession, to about the end of the first century. His _Annales_ hark further back, beginning with the death of Augustus and the consolidation of the Roman 'empire' as a constitutional concept as well as a geographical entity.

Van Wyk Louw's drama is closely based on the first three books of the _Annales_ (but with use of some elements taken from the Roman biographer Suetonius' _Life of Tiberius_ ). That Tacitus composed like a dramatist was first mooted by C.W. Mendell in 1935 in an analysis of, among others, the first eight books of the _Annales_. Tacitus did not, of course, write an extended dialogue, hence by 'dramatic' one should understand 'selection, arrangement and presentation', even 'fictionalization' of material. Mendell concentrates on what he terms the 'drama of Tiberius' in which Germanicus, his military colleague Piso and the chief of the praetorian guard, Seianus, in turn are used as foils to highlight Tiberius as chief protagonist. In the unfolding of Tiberius' story two concepts are deemed by Mendell to stand out almost as _dramatis personae_ : first, _libertas_ (freedom), represented by a 'group', Piso and two other nobles named Arruntius and Gallus; next, the 'progress of oppressive legislation' linked with the career of Seianus, who later became Tiberius' right-hand man until he, too, was struck down.

What Mendell has termed successive 'acts' within a greater drama have provided material for two distinct plays, _Germanicus_ being the second. Centuries earlier, Shakespeare's contemporary Ben Jonson exploited the dramatic potential of _Annales_ 4-8 in his five-act drama _Sejanus, His Fall_. As a play it did not work for its contemporary audience and it has seldom been performed. Its merit as a literary reworking of an interesting era has been variously extolled and criticized. _Sejanus_ depicts the career of its eponymous anti-hero on a stage cluttered with characters. The drama entails a powerful analysis of the problem of corruption inherent in a despotic regime. Its single production touched the nerve of the despotic monarch James I, who had shortly before the first presentation of the play tried and executed Sir Walter Raleigh for treason. Its published version probably had to be censored by its author to avoid the further ire of the King.

Louw's _Germanicus_ is a far more successful reworking of the Tacitean dramatic potential inherent in Tacitus' _Annales_ 1-3. Chronologically, its action precedes that of Jonson's play. Louw chose to limit his drama to 'the tragedy of Germanicus', ending with the hero's death. The structure of the drama is unconventional, comprising eight (unnumbered) 'scenes', rather than the more conventional five acts. These form three locality-based groups: four scenes on the Rhine front, two in Rome and two in the Roman Near East. I have chosen to number the scenes in my translation and to mark the tripartite grouping by labelling the 'Parts' as I, II and III. See the Overview of the Contents of the Drama for a brief summary of each scene.

_The origins and reception of the drama_

Van Wyk Louw was a creative and imaginative poet. _Germanicus_ deals with the corruption inherent in absolute power and the paradoxical powerlessness of the powerful to counter the forces that sweep him into despotic rule. Louw was clearly steeped in the Classics and continued reading Latin authors after attaining a BA at the University of Cape Town in 1925, where Latin had been one of his majors (Steyn 1998:54). His continued interest in Latin literature is attested to also by the title of a later collection of poems (' _Tristia_ ' 1962, based on the name of Ovid's exilic work) published while he was in voluntary 'exile', teaching in Amsterdam during the late forties and most of the fifties.

Louw's _Germanicus_ was composed during the second World War and soon after, but first published in 1956. Parts of _Germanicus_ had been published even earlier, and these had also been produced on radio. Kannemeyer (1978:408) traces its genesis through 1944-8, as the byproduct of an uncompleted drama based on the life of the emperor Caligula (the son of the historical prince Germanicus whose story inspired the composition of this drama).

Van Wyk Louw's poetry is forceful and much admired. Yet as a play _Germanicus_ is considered too static – for some it does not 'work' as a dramatic production, although it is considered eminently playable in a non-visual medium, the radio. Antonissen (1962:8) waxes lyrical about the profound impression a broadcast version made on him in early 1950. In this aspect Germanicus is 'more dramatic' than Jonson's _Sejanus_ , which has apparently been more frequently treated as reading matter than as a stage presentation. _Germanicus_ elicited considerable contemporary critical interest. Grové (1965:185) considered the work to be a 'dramatic poem' rather than a 'play', whereas Brink (1959:1-25) argued for a reappraisal of both Louw and Shakespeare in terms of a new definition of the essence of drama: that its hero must serve as defender of _order_ in its conflict with _chaos_. Antonissen (1962:180-5) wrote of a 'sublime dispute', and labelled the play as essentially a 'psychological idea-drama'.

The drama has frequently been set by various examining bodies as compulsory reading for the South African Matriculation examinations in Afrikaans literature. The reception of, or reaction to, the drama of both comparatively ignorant high school students and the intelligent layman is a further point of discussion within the Afrikaans literary world. It may be assumed that the average young reader comes to the text with very little knowledge of the historical background, as presumably did the larger part of each audience at its various productions. _Germanicus_ was staged for the first time in the Western Cape in 1956, the year of its publication, and again at Stellenbosch in 1971. I saw the first performance as a callow high school Latin student, then still totally unfamiliar with both Germanicus and Tacitus. What troubled me then (a powerful hero concerned with keeping 'pure' but unwilling to do anything to retain his purity) is exactly what disturbs many modern readers of Tacitus (see below). In this, too, Louw was true to his source.

_Dominant themes in the drama_

There are two dominant themes in the drama. First, Louw presents us with a picture of the conflicting claims within any society of the need for orderly rule, and the ruler's loss of essential human values, which results from a clash between his sense of humanity and his desire for power. Louw does this by means of intelligent reconstruction of hints given by the ancient historians, and by imaginative re-creation of conversations that, in the tradition of the speeches we find in such authors, portray what 'might have been' said. It is perhaps too simplistic to interpret the drama as a graphic illustration of the adage about 'absolute power corrupting absolutely'. For classicists, the main interest lies in its clear presentation of Tacitus' interpretation of the moral dilemma inherent in power.

Louw chose to propound this timeless human problem within a specific historical framework, extracting the dramatic elements of Tacitus' strongly republican interpretation of the ills of the beginnings of the principate. Louw himself was very aware of the importance of the classical tradition, and on occasion cited the concept of literary influence as being 'not a physical mixture but a chemical process', that is, the elements of imitation are so intermixed that they create what is essentially something new (Schutte 1996). This is a very interesting view of the nature of intertextuality and its role in the creation of original works. Louw's use of Tacitus as source was not a mere rewriting of the historian's narrative in dramatic form, but a profound recasting of the classical text into a totally new format. Louw's _Germanicus_ appears on the surface to follow the details of Tacitus' narrative almost exactly, but events recorded by Tacitus are conflated or elided, and scenes, even characters (Marcus, Lucius, the doctor), are invented for the sake of the dramatic portrayal of the main protagonists.

As second theme, Louw's _Germanicus_ as a drama reflects his own creatively imaginative interpretation of the end of an era and the dawning of another. His character Germanicus' prophetic adumbration (in 19 AD, before the most conservatively reckoned date for the public career of Christ) of the changes to be wrought in the world order by His coming, will be, to the literal-minded, a chronological impossibility. We must accept that Louw, in creating his work of art, chose this era as a vehicle for putting forth his own interpretation of the sweep of history, with the hind-sight of close on two thousand years. The anachronism hardly matters, for our interest lies, rather, in Louw's interpretation of character and his timeless portrayal of the human condition.

As a drama Louw's _Germanicus_ , like its Elizabethan counterpart, has its own problematic areas. It has been the object of much critical appraisal; for this, see the Select Bibliography below. Some of these critics, as non-classicists, might clearly have benefited from the insights that would have been afforded by greater familiarity with Louw's ancient sources. Of importance is Olivier's (1992) analysis of Louw's intellectual contribution to South African self-awareness, which can serve as clarification of aspects of Louw's ambivalence about the relationship between intellectual and political freedom. This relationship is one of the contemporary issues highlighted in the drama.

Criticism of the South African Nationalist government (that had been in power for eight years when the drama was first published) and dire warnings of its potential for absolutism have sometimes been read into Louw's drama. The title of Louw's earlier set of essays _Lojale Verset_ (1939) can be translated as 'Loyal Resistance', but Louw's approach here was literary, not political. Only one chapter of this work (pp. 106-8) refers to matters political, but in it Louw merely discusses his concern about the inability he perceives in Afrikaners to accept criticism. For Louw, 'criticism is a nation's conscience' (p. 108, my translation). The concept of ideology as springboard for literature is a valid literary concern. However, in the light of the fact that _Germanicus_ had largely been completed by December 1944 (Steyn:414), twelve years before its publication and when the Nationalist government had not yet come into power, this aspect may be largely discounted. Louw himself, in a lecture given at Stellenbosch as early as 1936, had called for Afrikaans literature to rise above the parochial to treat of universal themes (Van Wyk 2004, translating Louw's own 'Die rigting van die Afrikaanse Letterkunde,' 1939).

Yet Louw himself admitted that certain passages in Germanicus were aimed at General Smuts, leader of the South African Party that had been dominant during the Second World War, whom many Afrikaners, still embittered by memories of the Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902, blamed for his so-called 'pro-English' stance (Steyn: 406). Smuts' involvement of South Africa in the Second World War, seen by many as an 'English war', was one of the reasons for the Nationalist Party's ascendance by 1948.

Louw later reputedly 'moved away from _hard_ nationalism'. His _Tristia_ was 'virtually mythologised in a hermetically sealed off world of literature'. Such a stance served until very recently to keep Afrikaans intellectuals from contextualising any potentially explosive political writings of their time. To consider the degree to which Louw's political attitudes may have changed over time is, however, not the aim of this Introduction. In a notoriously drawn-out polemic between Louw and a fellow-poet, Louw himself famously decried the so-called 'psychological', or biographical, approach that would read an author's personal history or attitudes from his literary productions (Steyn 1998: 659-66, 688-93).

Van Rensburg (1989) in a discussion of Louw's changing attitudes to statutory literary censorship, points out that, to Louw, the artist 'not only records reality but can change it'. This observation may perhaps also be applied to Louw's general attitude to the state in political matters, but the set-up of the drama nowhere spells out such an intention in the case of his penning of _Germanicus_. There is, for example, no introductory essay by the poet. Yet if one accepts that an author of genius often reaches out in a wider sweep than he himself may be aware of, Louw's vatic portrayal of the dangers inherent in absolute power can be taken to have reflected both the South Africa of his time and the world for all time.

_The character of Germanicus as presented by Tacitus and by Louw_

Tacitus' portrayal of Germanicus is generally conceded to be problematic. Critical opinion of the historian's intention ranges from 'wholly positive', to 'ambiguous', to 'strongly negative'. The esteemed historian Sir Ronald Syme (1958: 498) saw Tacitus' laudation of Germanicus as 'grotesque in its disproportion'. The best of fairly recent discussions of the problem is that of Pelling (1993), who construes Tacitus' characterization of Germanicus as 'consistently inconsistent' in an intentional series of contrasts with other key figures – Tiberius, Arminius, Piso himself. For instance, the actions of Piso and Plancina ( _Ann_. 2.78-80) in acting together to quell a military uprising, mirror those of Germanicus and Agrippina ( _Ann_. 1.33-6).

Van Wyk Louw presents a 'Tacitean' Germanicus. This character appears on the surface to coincide with the Germanicus that was discernible in nineteenth and early twentieth century classical critics' positive interpretation of Tacitus' judgement of the hero. A more careful reading, however, reveals many of the same uncertainties that face Tacitean critics, and it gives us similar insights. Louw's Germanicus is not wholly admirable. What is perhaps most inconsistent and problematical about the character is exactly what is most Tacitean. We must deduce that Louw, a classicist himself, was dubious about Tacitus' intentions with this character.

Afrikaans critics like Piek (1971) and Pretorius (1972: 30-44, 63) have no problem in construing Louw's Germanicus as an Aristotelian hero, brought low by a single flaw in his character; yet Piek finds it to be impossible for the 'ordinary person' to identify with Germanicus' inner passivity and his outward certainty of his own taint-free clarity of spirit. For Pretorius (1972: 45) the requisite 'fatal flaw' is the character's concentration on his inner life and his consequent passivity. Kannemeyer (1978: 411-12) construes Germanicus' passive acceptance of the inevitable as an essential element of his character, and deems the 'true tragedy' to lie in the sufferings of Tiberius, Piso and the other characters, where there is no chance of any redemption.

The same insistent questions arise whether the drama is watched, heard on the radio or merely read: why does Van Wyk Louw's Germanicus the man talk so much about 'freedom' and 'simplicity', while apparently doing nothing about either? Antonissen (1962: 181) defends this passivity in the hero as a sign of intense cerebration but notes (184) that Louw's portrayal of Agrippina's own increasing passivity is psychologically implausible. The parallel with Jonson's drama is significant: the 'Germanicans' ('republicans', or harkers-back to the old order) seem too static. The fault may be traced to a common source: Tacitus' portrayal of the 'heroic faction', which, in Mendell's (1935: 14) view, acts as a composite heroic foil to Tacitus' ultimate villain, Tiberius.

The second apparently unanswerable question is: why does the friendship between Louw's characters Piso and Germanicus turn sour? A literary work is such because its author wills it so, even in an ostensibly 'historical' drama, working with 'facts'. The dramatist selects and rearranges material in order to portray an issue to which his audience can relate; in other words, literature portrays – or should portray – the universal. The interaction of Louw's characters portrays the type of conflict that the author wishes to explore, the relationship between intellect and action, self-control and power.

_Louw's characterization of the three male protagonists_

This brings us to the three male protagonists as portrayed by Louw. We have to do with three levels of characterization: the historic personages as they really were, about whose true natures we can merely speculate, Tacitus' (and Suetonius') constructs of these personages and Louw's imaginative reconstruction, based more or less loosely on his reading of the ancient authors.

Both Louw's Tiberius and his Germanicus exhibit an historic awareness impossible of access to the real, historic personages, and also unlikely in Tacitus' Tiberius and improbable in his Germanicus. Tiberius' awareness in the sixth scene of the inevitability of acceding to a system tainted by the corruption of absolutism and his drunken complicity with the unavoidable are plausible when considered in the light of the hints given by Tacitus about his reluctance to take power ( _Ann_. 1.6-10). So, too, is Suetonius' portrait of a man haunted: Tiberius' two historically-attested withdrawals from the seat of power, first during Augustus' lifetime, when he spent some years on the island of Rhodes, apparently studying philosophy but perhaps fleeing the shackles of an unhappy marriage with Augustus' daughter Julia, and then, during his own imperial career, to the island of Capri whence he ruled by imperial missives to the Senate.

Louw's Germanicus initially appears unaware of the forces involved in the exercise of power: both the inevitability of corruption through its absolute exercise and the potential of the masses to force a ruler to act against his better instincts. In the pivotal sixth scene Tiberius spells out to his adopted son that withdrawal is impossible: if the younger man were to retire to a private life, he would become the notional leader of every rebellious faction within the empire. There is no way to withdraw, and there is no means to rule well, to remain true to a conception of purity and clarity:

Where all are drunk, to stay stone sober still ...

There lies the madness.

Scene 6

**Note:** _From here onward, words or lines quoted in the Introduction are referenced by means of scene numbering only: use the 'search' facility to find the context of each within this text._

So Louw's Tiberius chooses drunken acquiescence; his Germanicus bows to a new inevitability: notwithstanding his desire for clarity and purity, he is part of the system. The only escape lies in death. He becomes a willing victim. He remains the representative of light and order but cannot combat the powers of darkness and chaos. Yet Louw's Germanicus, the seeker after clarity, the man of light who must fight against the chaos around him and Louw's _swart_ Piso ('black Piso'), the harker-back to a lost republican system, cannot simply be judged as protagonist and antagonist, good against evil and light against darkness. Piso stands for another type of simplicity and clarity and Germanicus, too, carries the seeds of darkness within himself.

Louw has built up a character for Piso from mere hints given by Tacitus. It may be that his characterization of Cneius Piso[1] as republican leans in part on the staunchly independent Lucius Calpurnius Piso of _Annales_ 2.32-5. This Lucius showed spirit in denouncing official malfeasance in the courts, threatening to withdraw from the corruption of public life, in prosecuting a friend of Livia Augusta in the face of opposition from Tiberius and in insisting that the Senate did not require the presence of the emperor in order to transact its business (cf. Syme 1970: 51-5).

Mendell's article showing Piso as one of the representatives of _libertas_ may well have influenced Louw. But Louw's Piso is essentially a construct: 'black Piso', the representative of darkness, whose initial friendship with Germanicus is portrayed in warmer terms than the ancient Roman practice of _amicitia_ ('friendship,' often no more than a temporary political alliance) might have warranted. _Amicitiam renuntiare_ ('renouncing friendship') could often mean no more than a severing of political ties. When the historical Germanicus did so ( _Ann_. 2.70), he was creating a political chasm between himself, the representative of the emperor, and Piso as a recalcitrant subject. Louw does, however, build up a plausible picture of Piso as a simple-minded military man whose views of black and white can admit no shades of grey, while at the same time allowing for the possibility of another interpretation, that Plancina was Livia's instrument and that Piso became a murderer only by default, when he became aware of both his hero's frailty and his wife's treachery. The final scene of quasi-reconciliation is historically unlikely, but artistically satisfactory. Piso, too, is the victim of a changing era; he, too, was doomed not to do otherwise than he did.

Louw shows Piso as loyal to the republican ideal. This loyalty is initially shared by Louw's Germanicus. This agrees with the general critical interpretation of Tacitus' portrayal of the two men. Louw's portrayal helps to explain Tacitus' Piso as both defender of _libertas_ , and as tool in the hands of Tiberius. Their gradual disaffection is satisfactorily accounted for by Louw's interpretation of the two characters. Germanicus intellectualizes his disagreement with the excesses that imperial rule inevitably leads to, and he becomes more and more passive, resigned to participation in the chaos that imperial rule brings to many lives. The soldierly Piso wants a return to greater simplicity, to an order where every Roman had a fixed role and was bound by obligation to both his peers and his superiors. Neither understands the other's point of view. Louw's Germanicus is an intellectual, whose own historical awareness leads to inactivity, even though he knows that this inactivity will lead directly to his death (he refuses to try to root out the forces working against him). Ironically, in the end it is inaction by Piso, when he passively looks on while his wife and Germanicus' physician administer the poison, that causes the prince's death.

Perhaps the best interpretation is that Louw's two characters together represent the tortured man that is the Tiberius portrayed by Tacitus and Suetonius. Tiberius was an upright and efficient soldier, son of a staunch republican, who once sought to withdraw to a simpler life of study but was doomed to a grudging adoption into a system of which he did not approve, as we may deduce from Tacitus' representation of his unwilling acceptance of the imperial role that was thrust upon him ( _Ann_. 1.11, 12). His second and final withdrawal from the seat – but not the wielding – of power followed after the events with which Louw's drama closes. This play, when read together with Jonson's, gives us the 'Tragedy of Tiberius' which Mendell (1935) discerned within _Ann_. 1-8. A detailed comparison between Louw and Jonson in their depiction of Tiberius is not called-for here but, to the extent that they agree, we may consider both true to the elements common to Tacitus and Suetonius in their portrayal of the emperor. These elements do not occur in the Roman historian Velleius Paterculus, whose portrait of his former commanding officer Tiberius is far more sympathetic.

_The women_

Louw's three main female protagonists are similarly matched, each as foil to one of the male figures, but in the end also creating a composite. The fourth woman, the German captive Thusnelda, has only a minor role: to serve, together with the tortured slave Clemens, as 'the voice of prophecy' against Roman power hunger. She also illuminates aspects of the three Roman women's characters. Livia maltreats her, Agrippina is kind. In Scene Five, when Livia forces Plancina to stand next to Thusnelda, the Roman woman is indicated as being physically of small stature, with the implication, too, of a moral lack.

Agrippina, as the strong and loyal wife whose support made Germanicus' hold on power possible, can be seen as a type, also representing what is best in Livia, the 'good mother' planning to promote the career of her son. Plancina, the purveyor of poison, whose loyalty to Livia is greater than to her husband's republican idealism, is a younger edition of Livia _die ou apie_ ('the old monkey', Scene Four), ready to do whatever is vile for the sake of unspecified gain. Significantly, in the scenes where Agrippina and Livia converse with their respective male counterparts, a dimension of each male character is highlighted, but Plancina and Piso, while attending the Nabataean banquet together, hardly exchange a word. Piso only indirectly defends his wife against Agrippina's accusation of poisoning, and then remains silent (Scene Six), whereas Plancina appears as another opponent of her husband in her spirited defence of the imperial reputation. Here Plancina sees herself as the representative of both Tiberius and Livia, when she viciously berates Agrippina:

She hurts the majesty of Caesar when

she talks about his mother – _so_ ;

you know you must go back to Rome again!

Scene 6

After this, she does not reappear. In the two final scenes, Piso attests to his willingness to repudiate her, stressing at the end of the play that he would have been willing to sacrifice her life to stop the course of the poison, if only Germanicus had acceded to his attempts to rally him to the republican cause – and thereby to be true to the 'greatness' within him (Scene Eight). Neither Plancina nor Livia caused the hero's death. It was Piso's love, which had turned to hatred, because Germanicus had chosen to remain mundane:

You do not know how much you brought me low

when you rejected greatness – when you ... chose tameness.

Scene 8

Louw's Livia is a rather contentious figure. It is generally accepted that Tacitus uses female characters who overstep the bounds of their accepted spheres to illustrate what he saw as the worst aspects of the new imperial system. He frequently hints that Livia was privy to all manner of plots, largely to enhance the career of her beloved eldest son Tiberius. Louw's portrayal of her verges on caricature: he manages to convey an impression of soured age, close to senile dementia. This is historically unsatisfactory, given that Livia enjoyed some years of power as 'Julia Augusta' after her adoption into the Julian clan on her husband's death, virtually ruling together with her son, until her death in 29 AD. Yet in the context of the drama such a portrayal of the empress is poetically satisfactory, illustrating one more facet of the corrupting influence of power, which curdles in Livia, as in Lady Macbeth, all normal womanly instincts of love and compassion. The only love she evinces is for her son Tiberius, whom she also fears and even seems, paradoxically, to hate. Louw's Livia embodies to an evil extent the sentiments that Tacitus ascribes to our Agrippina's daughter, the younger Agrippina, who, when told that she was doomed to be hated by her son, the later emperor Nero, replied 'Let him hate me, as long as he also rules'.

_Historicity of the drama_

Don Fowler (1999: 278), writing about literary closure, quotes the American historian Hayden White on the narratological choices any historiographer must make to present a sequence of events in a manner that allows of their meaningful interpretation. White stresses that the same material can lend itself to emplotment in any one of a variety of genres. Louw's _Germanicus_ illustrates the truth of White's observation: we are confronted by the choice of a creative and imaginative poet (Louw) to propound a timeless human problem within a specific historical framework as it was set out by another creative master of language (Tacitus), but with a radical change of genre.

Louw's historical sense emerges in his interpretative reading of the facts at Tacitus' disposal in a more consistent and possibly more satisfactory way than that of his ancient predecessor. Louw has contracted and conflated the action of the years 16 to 19 AD, in which Tacitus narrates the further quasi-rebellious actions of Piso, but he does not continue with Piso's trial and subsequent suicide, as related by Tacitus ( _Ann_. 3.7-19.2).

In an article (1996:148) I argued that Louw's 'greatest contribution to a rounded picture of the affair is his recreation of the tangled intrigues of Livia and Tiberius and his projection of a Plancina disaffected from her republican husband Piso at a much earlier stage than Tacitus allows for'. I tried there to show that Louw's historical sense may be read from his 'consistent and satisfactory interpretative reading of the facts at Tacitus' disposal'. These facts were independently corroborated by the discovery in Spain (ancient Baetica) during the eighties of the twentieth century of inscribed bronze plates bearing a _Senatusconsultum de Pisone patre_ ('Decision by the Senate about the elder Piso'). Louw's portrayal, as intelligent guesswork, seems to be supported by the new insights offered by this document.

The description in the _Senatusconsultum_ of Piso's conduct largely concurs with _Ann_. 2.55, 57 and 69-70. That Germanicus himself associated his end with Piso's machinations receives due emphasis as the ground for a formal _renuntiatio amicitiae_ ('renunciation of friendship,' featured by Louw in the last scene of the drama). Piso's lack of discipline, amounting to civil war, after the death of Germanicus, is given as another count in the _Senatusconsultum_. Worse, his exhibition of unalloyed joy after the death of the prince (as also related by Tacitus, _Ann_. 2.75.2-77) is indicted, and Piso's accusation of Germanicus (relayed to Tiberius after the death of the prince) is listed as evidence of wrong-doing on the part of its author. His death at his own hand was seen as 'robbing the Senate of its just revenge'. About Plancina: the document admits that there had been serious charges against her, but that 'in acknowledgement of Livia Augusta's great service to the state in producing her great son Tiberius', all charges were to be dropped against her favourite, without further specification of reasons. This stark relaying of an obviously tendentious decision suggests tremendous tension within the Senate, possibly even differences of opinion, about simply remitting accusations against Plancina.

The tone of the _Senatusconsultum_ (but not all the information it conveys on this point) agrees very well with Tacitus' account. The exoneration of Plancina from all blame and its implication of a profound division between husband and wife is the major difference between the _Senatusconsultum_ and Tacitus' narrative of the events of October AD 19. That Tacitus was tendentious in his presentation of the imperial family is generally accepted, perhaps also of the other persons that feature in his narrative. Tacitus implies ( _Ann_. 2 69-70) that Piso and Plancina were both involved in Germanicus' death: Plancina outdid her husband's transports of joy at the death of the prince, and she chose at that time to put off the mourning she had been wearing for a sister, to change into festive garments. Tacitus' account of the trial shows that Piso's defence could not refute charges against him of bribery of the troops and insurrection against his commander Germanicus, but that the charge of poison remained unsubstantiated. According to Tacitus, Plancina remained loyal to Piso until it became clear that he could in no way save himself, after which she conducted a separate – and more successful – defence. Tacitus hints strongly that Piso did have an injunction from Tiberius to do away with Germanicus, but admits that he cannot substantiate the assertion, stressing the obvious embarrassment with which Tiberius cited his mother's entreaties as the ground for Plancina's defence.

Louw's portrayal of the role of each of the protagonists makes sense of these details. His historical interpretation of the events narrated by Tacitus accords well with the _Senatusconsultum_ , a genuine historical source: his rendering is consistent with the exoneration of Plancina that it spells out. Louw's picture of gradual disaffection between his Piso and Germanicus helps to give greater consistency and to smooth out the discrepancies inherent in Tacitus' problematic portrayal of a Piso as both defender of _libertas_ and instrument of Tiberius. Similarly, Louw's Germanicus is something more than the popular but problematic prince that emerges from a first, cursory reading of _Annales_ 1 and 2. Louw's portrait of an intellectual, doomed by his own historical awareness to inactivity, is not wholly Tacitean, but gains in credibility when Germanicus' known dedication to the arts is remembered (including his poetic reworking of Aratus' treatise on astronomy).

_On Translating Louw's Afrikaans_

On theories of translation

Translating a modern text in a still-spoken language into another spoken language is not so very different from translating ancient 'dead' languages, the more common practice of classicists the world over. The same issues of translation apply – literal _versus_ Chomskyan 'deep' meaning and word-for-word equivalence _versus_ dynamic equivalence. Translating poetry is even more complex: should the exact metrical pattern be maintained, or another metre be found as suitable vehicle? Pope's rhyming heroic couplets made of Homer's _Iliad_ something other than the original. Although Pope himself averred that he was striving to maintain the 'Rapture and Fire' of the original, Troy became Pope's Troy, not Homer's, his Achilles or Agamemnon should be wearing powdered wigs, not Bronze Age Greek armour. Another decision a translator must take relates to the measure of 'strangeness' a translation may reflect: to what degree should the translator strive for the Afrikaans to shine through the English (rather in the manner of Herman Charles Bosman's English narratives of simple Afrikaner life), or should she strive to make the translation stand on its own as an independent literary work?

There are many theories of translation, not all fully formulated, nor even realised, by their proponents and practitioners. Fashions in translation theory may also be traced. Broadly speaking we have to do with two almost opposing trends: the first has _adequacy_ , that is, equivalence to the source text, as criterion. The other trend, also termed 'journalistic criticism,' is less concerned with literalness, and more with the _fluency and naturalness_ of a translation.

In the broader field of translation theory, which can almost not be separated from its practice, there is at present some movement away from Eugene Nida's influential views on the 'science of translation' of the sixties of the twentieth century, which allowed for either 'formal equivalence' or 'dynamic equivalence'. Nida's preference was for the latter, which would acculturate a translated text into the context of the target language, in order to maintain efficiency of communication, and would elicit both comprehension of intent and equivalence of response.[2] France (2000: 4, 5) cites the French scholar Meschonnic as Nida's chief opponent.[3] His concern was for the 'dignity of translation' to be enhanced through a conscious distantiation between the original and the translation, a retention of a certain 'foreignness' in the new text in the target language. Meschonnic's view seems at present to be gaining ground.

With these considerations also comes the issue of originality. Translation from English to Latin was termed 'prose composition' by nineteenth century schoolmasters and their successors. All translation, at its best, is exactly that: the composition of something new. I have spoken above of Louw's palpable awareness of the literary tradition. Louw himself emphasised that tradition has always been the literary norm, but in discussing originality, also in the reworking of traditional material, he differentiated between _imitatio_ and _aemulatio_. In a poem titled 'Ars poetica' from his _Tristia_ (1962: 34-5), Louw seems to suggest that only ideas, not literary forms, may be emulated:

Uit die gevormde literatuur

Is nooit weer poësie te maak nie

Uit die ongevormde wél.

From well-formed literature

No-one can remake poetry as before

Only from the unformed.

(my translation).

The poem goes on to suggest that it _is_ possible to vary a theme, but not to 'play' with it, nor even to abuse it, nor to stand 'in the shoes of the great ones of the past'. It ends with the idea (p. 35) that we have an injunction to recreate 'the creation of the god' (lower case, implying either literary masters of the past, or their inspiration) in words that are both 'truth and sign' ( _waarheid en teken_ ). For Louw, such words need to be imbedded in a 'purity of form' that strips away all but the essentials (Van Wyk 2004: 77-8). Schutte (1996: 127) indicates that, to Louw, translation was an important element in the creation of a national literature, but that, for Louw, the question to ask of a work, whether a translation or an imitation, is not 'Is it new?' but, 'Is it good?' For Louw, that is the essence of originality. This is not very far from the ancients' concept of originality as lying chiefly in the creative re-use of matter taken from a predecessor. This approach is also akin to the 'journalistic criticism' cited above as one of the methods of practising translation criticism.

Let us consider what Van Wyk Louw has done in this drama, in the light of his own view, sketched above, of the correct use of literary influences from the past. His rendering of Tacitus' dramatic Latin narrative prose into an Afrikaans verse drama is not a 'translation' in the usual sense. It is also a far cry from the prose – or verse – composition of Victorian schoolboys.

Louw embarked upon an act of supreme creativity involving two conscious acts of transmutation: first he had to plumb the full implications of Tacitus' concise and sometimes cryptic Latin, and rethink these in his native tongue. It is probable that Louw actually consulted the original Latin texts for his creation of the drama, as he was fluent in Latin.[4] He had read _Annales_ 5 for his degree and it is probable that he would have had the complete work to hand. He himself admitted in a radio interview that he had spent some time (apparently from November 1941 to February 1943) in preparatory research and intensive reading of various sources, 'Tacitus, Suetonius and others,' with whose works he had in any case long been familiar (Steyn 1998: 403-5). Then he had to re-visualise historiography into a poetic drama, with all the constraints that movement from a readerly to an essentially _oral_ medium would entail, while bearing in mind a target audience that was not necessarily familiar with any aspects of Roman history. This was not mere translation, but re-creation in a new generic format, and in new words, that is, with new 'truths and signs'. In the conceptualisation of White, as cited by Fowler (2000), Tacitus and Louw have variously emplotted the same sequence of events, each thereby making these events comprehensible, but capable of varied interpretations.

My translation represents a third leap of language (but not of emplotment). My aim was both to make the world of classical scholarship aware of Louw's tour-de-force in metamorphosing historiography into drama, and to convey something of the beauty of Louw's mastery of language to an Anglophone public. My translation aims to be no more than as-near-as-possibly faithful imitation. For this, I had to explore the intricate nuances of Louw's concise, sometimes cryptic, Afrikaans, and rethink these in my mother tongue. Not only was I required to rethink his words, but I had to obey the constraints of Louw's metric pattern and, with that, face the problem of differences in prosody between Afrikaans and English verse forms.

Holman and Boase-Beier (1999: 1-17), discussing literary translation, argue that constraint is precisely what leads to creativity in the practice of the translator's art, particularly in the translation of poetry. They define (p. 14) the role of the translator as '[having] changed from that of a faithful reproducer to an inventive interventionist'. This is the essence of translation as _aemulatio_ , rather than _imitatio_ , Louw's terms. What I tried to do, was perhaps closer to _imitatio_ , but still working within constraints, still requiring inventiveness.

Of importance, too, is the so-called 'third code' that lies between the source language and the target language. This code is one of the constraints that operate in translation. It seems to indicate a striving toward 'normalization', or homogeneity of language, in translated works. This tendency toward linguistic middle ground results from an awareness in translators that their texts will meet _other_ expectations than will original texts. Such mediocrity of language is precisely what I sought to avoid in my translation. I want my readers to react to my text as they would have reacted to Louw's, had they been able to understand Afrikaans. This aim added to the constraints that, I think, challenged my creativity. What follows below is an exposition of the main types of problem, that is, the major constraints, with which I was faced, and my attempts to meet these creatively.

Common Germanic words

To translate irregular blank verse from a Germanic language into a related Germanic-derived language that has strong overtones of its other, Romance, origins, brings problems on various levels. The fact that English and Afrikaans have so many Germanic characteristics in common was surprisingly problematic. Words deriving from the same root would naturally occur to the translator to express similar ideas, but these roots in some cases have undergone a semantic shift, so that exact equivalence of form does not result in exact equivalence of meaning. For example _wit_ (white) I have rendered as 'candid' with 'senators' (Scene One), and as 'pale' with 'ranks' (Scene Eight). The emotional 'feel' of the English word 'mean' is not the same as the Afrikaans _gemeen_ , for which in Scene Seven I used 'vicious'. _Wild_ ('wild') in: _so klein, so wild_ is more exactly rendered by 'scared', _so tiny, so scared_ (Scene Three). Also in Scene Three 'reckless' is the best translation for _wild_ , but a few pages on the exact Germanic equivalent 'more wild' works best for the Afrikaans _wilder_.

Prosody and metre

The term 'prosody' refers to the manner in which a particular language fits into a set metrical pattern. It offered the most knotty problems. Although a five-beat metrical patterning can be followed in both English and Afrikaans, the nature of each language and the word-stress in each are such that words simply fit into such a metre in different ways. This is because the stress patterns even of etymologically related words differ in the two languages. The plurals of virtually similar words are formed differently. Afrikaans often adds an additional syllable (the _schwa_ , '-ĕ') for the plural, whereas the most common English plural signifier ('-s') does not change the length of a word, hence _legioene vs._ legions, _gode vs._ gods. I often added 'filler' syllables, _hierdie_ and _daardie_ becoming _this here, that there_.

One can maintain metrical patterning, even where prosody differs. Metre is dictated by the number of 'beats' (stressed syllables) in a verse. Louw largely keeps to a five-beat verse pattern, such as: _miskien 'n kern, klein, byna onsigbaar_ , which I made: _perhaps a kernel, small, nearly invisible_ (Scene Seven). It was impossible here to reproduce the additional effect of k-alliteration. Throughout I tried to maintain Louw's metric pattern of stressed syllables, as in: _O gode, hou hul daar!_ , that becomes: _Ye gods, pray keep them there!_ (Scene One). In the same scene _Is dit teater hier? Moet ons applous gee?_ , became: _Is this a theatre? And do you want applause?_ The number of unstressed syllables may vary greatly and does not, in fact, affect the lilt of the verse. Prosodic problems were solved by inserting more (sometimes fewer) unstressed syllables in a loose approximation of the metric feel of the original, but keeping to the same number of stressed syllables per line. Occasionally Louw's lines are shortened to four or even three beats, as in the example, _O gode, hou hul daar!_ or _What d'you hear around the fires?_ (Scene One) for _Wat hoor jy by die vure?_ Six beats work equally well: _That's all that great Rome will offer you, old greybeard_ (again in One), for _Dis àl wat die groot Ryk jou gee, ou gryskop_.

Density of Louw's poetry

Louw's poetic Afrikaans is so concise that the common wisdom of South African translators, that it takes more words so say something in Afrikaans than in English, seldom applies. This naturally requires a condensation of the English that gives a very satisfactory poetic density, but can sometimes sound forced. The following example is from Scene Three:

sy vlote is gebreek teen vreemde strande

en duine, teen somber kape uitgespoel

waar voëls draai wat geen mens ken, neste maak

van stink doodsbeendere, en nagtelik skree

– _ek hoor hul in my kop nog_ – _bo die skuim_

en die wit rots van Brittanje, die geheime;

ná elke trugslag kom hy heersender:

dit moet 'n god wees wat hom gryp en lei!

his fleets lay broken on those foreign strands

and dunes, washed up on sombre capes

watched over by birds that no man knows, nesting yet

on dead men's reeking bones, and nightly screeching

– I hear them shrilling in my head – above the foam

and the white rock of Britain, that secret place;

above each downfall he rises stronger:

for sure a god raised him and leads him still!

Density can be achieved by various means. In the passage quoted, there is an almost total dearth of 'grammatical items' such as articles and prepositions in favour of highly charged 'content words' or 'lexical items'. More difficult was the concise thought-pattern and elliptic wording of _Die kruisdood is verskriklik; en dis mense_ (literally: 'the cross-death is terrible, and it's people'). Expansion, for both metre and sense, brought: _The cross is dreadful; and people suffer so_ (Scene Five).

Occasionally, however, the Afrikaans is considerably longer than its English equivalent. 'Filler words' are needed, for example, 'at all' in _I'm not a king of kings_ _at all_ (Scene Seven) for _Ek is geen koning van die konings nie_.

Word order, sentence structure and punctuation

Using an exactly equivalent ('Germanic') word order in sentence structures would in most cases have resulted in understandable English, but would have sounded vaguely 'Shakespearean'. English syntax has over the centuries moved away from its Germanic origins. The dense and staccato four-syllabic _So sterf ek nie!_ ('So die I not!') became the more natural-sounding six-syllabic _I will not die like that!_ (Scene Three). It still has a three-beat prosody, but is now an iambic line. Five-syllabic _Ken ek hulle nie!_ works better as the five-syllabic _Don't I just know 'em!_ (Scene One) rather than its four-syllabic 'Germanic' equivalent _Know I them not!_ Occasionally an exact overlap of word order, meaning and prosody gives happy relief to the translator. The rather prosaic _Maar wat hy sê, is waar_ works on all levels as _But what he says, is true_ (also in Scene One).

Louw's idiosyncratic punctuation mostly worked. He sometimes uses upper case where Afrikaans convention prescribes lower case. Thusnelda and the Nabataean king address Germanicus as ' _U_ ' ('You'). I have chosen to ignore this, but have retained his capital after a dash, as in Scene Seven, Louw's p. 91, lines 6 to 8, where a three-line interpolation is indicated with dashes and the next line begins a contrasting thought with upper case _Maar_ ('But'). I retained Louw's lower case where sentences seem to run on in spite of pauses in meaning, as in Scene One:

It's twenty winters

that I have borne like this until the winter

came and sat upon my head: just see my hands –

gnarled roots; and see my back – it's been tanned with blows.

Louw often, sometimes inexplicably, omits a period at the end of what appears as a completed thought. Where a second character interrupts a speaker, such an omission is dramatically effective and I have retained this idiosyncracy, as also with the omission of all punctuation after stage directions. Both types of omission occur in the following:

GERMANICUS

Still half amused

Marcus, shut up. Stand back. The wine is talking now

MARCUS

Does not hear him; louder

Who is your Caesar? Is it Tiberius?

That drunkard lolling round in Rome?

Scene 3

Louw's idiosyncratic vocabulary

Louw's idiosyncratic use of words, deliberate archaisms and occasional neologisms call for interpretative reading. For example Louw's _trugslag_ (in the eight-line passage quoted above, 7th line), for normal Afrikaans _terugslag_ , became 'downfall', and in the same line _heersender_ (literally 'ruling-er') became 'stronger'. The emphatic reduplicative superlative in _van die aller- aller- allerfynstes_ ('thrice-exceedingly fine people') became _of the high, and higher, highest ranks_. An idiosyncratic use of _kram_ ('staple', which is by definition shaped like a hoop) in _moet kram-wees_ ('must be hooped') translates into _arcs across_ (both examples from Scene Five). The unusual _pylerig_ ('arrow-ish') had to be expanded into _bristling with darts_. Louw's _Jy sukkel met die a-b-jab_ uses an almost totally unfamiliar old Germanic term, _jab_. I varied the familiar _a-b-c_ , to _You struggle with the a-b-z_ , which works, whether one says British 'zed' or American 'zee' (both examples from Scene Seven).

A variety of registers

Louw's characters speak in a variety of registers. A particular word-order is idiomatic in a certain non-standard Afrikaans, for example _Blaas òp die vuur_ , occurring twice on the first page. _Op_ can be either a preposition ('on') or an adverb ('up'). Stress on _ò_ makes it an adverb. Standard Afrikaans word order puts it at the end of the sentence: _Blaas die vuur op_ , but this has far less emotional impact. The soldiers are cold and angry and they are stoking the fires of rebellion. I chose to interpret the first _òp_ as a preposition: the first soldier merely asks his mate to 'blow on the fire to make it flame up'. When the more rebellious third soldier repeats it, adding _blaas goed!_ , I translated less literally, implying rebellion. The extended line became: _Stir up the embers, stir up well!_ (Scene One)

The vernacular _kjent_ for _kind_ (child) in the mouth of an old soldier was impossible to duplicate idiomatically. The verse reads: _Sò praat 'n kjent van groot Agrippa net_ (also One) with the literal English equivalent being something to the effect: 'So speaks a chee-ild of great Agrippa just'. I toyed with: _Thus speaks a child from great Agrippa's loins_ , but the register was wrong. It finally became: _This is a child that great Agrippa bred!_

Rhetorical and poetic devices

Louw's use of zeugma was easier to translate. In the first scene our rebellious third soldier avers that the double-dealing Senate at Rome speaks in two languages. A fourth soldier answers him: _En jy praat drie: Latyn, en groot, en sot_. This becomes _And you talk three: Latin, and big, and rot_ (Scene One).

Poetic devices were a wonderful challenge. The alliterative onomatopoeia in _Dis vreemde pap wat in die potte prut_ was easily rendered as: _It's a strange porridge a-plopping in the pots_. Emphatic stress _Hom laat jy staan!_ ) translates into: _Him you mustn't touch!_ (both examples also from Scene One). More difficult was the linked word play in: _Want 'sien' is nie begryp, nie 'gryp',_ verstaan _nie_. My word-chain links the three abstract nouns differently, but tries to respect the spirit of Louw's idiom: _For 'see' is not foresee, not 'grasp', not_ understand (Scene Eight).

Perhaps the most difficult are idiomatic expressions that make no sense when rendered literally, as in the following extensive example (also One) for which I first give a literal translation (below):

Hy's nog nie moeg van klaas-wees! Elke dag

wil hy nog die sersant se rottang vreet,

vyf oulap – en sy klere, wapens, tent

en vroumensvleis daarmee betaal Ons nie!

He's not yet tired of being Claus. Every day

he still wants to guzzle the sergeant's Malacca cane

five old rags – and his clothes, weapons, tent

and womanfolk's flesh pay with that. We not!

_Klaas_ (German _Claus_ ), an abbreviation for Nicholas, is a labourer, as opposed to _baas_ , 'boss'. An _oulap_ , meaning 'penny', is the Afrikaans equivalent of the Latin _pannus_ , 'a rag' (from which the word penny is derived), and a _rottang_ is literally a cane, but in English it is associated with schoolboys or dandies, not soldiers. _Vroumensvleis_ is a vulgarism for a prostitute. A literal translation would make no sense at all, hence my:

He's not yet sick of daily kicks and blows.

He still goes sucking at the sergeant's whip,

Five cents or so – and then his clothes and weapons, tent

and juicy tarts are paid. But that's not us!

The very next line translates easily, and virtually word for word, both idiom and word rhythms coinciding neatly: _Is ons nie van die trots ou heersersras?_ becomes _Are we not of a proud old ruling race?_.

Diminutives (signalled by the suffix - _tjie_ ) are as frequent in Afrikaans as in Latin, and sometimes are used to denote appreciation or contempt. English expresses these feelings differently, hence my first two examples, both from Scene One: _bruin Romeinse seuntjies_ becomes _nice brown Roman boys_ , and _elke riddertjie kan méér bied_ is translated as _and any stupid knight can offer more_. Occasionally 'small' will do, as in: _just one big marsh, reeds and small white frogs_ for: _die een moeras, riet en wit paddatjies_. Also in Scene One, a word like _speletjies_ for 'games' actually no longer has any diminutive force and its inherent diminution could be ignored, but for metric reasons a filler was needed. Hence _watter speletjies!_ became _ye gods, what games!_ Diminutives of adverbs are almost untranslatable: 'fyntjies' (= 'small-y fine') occurs twice on the same page in this scene. I quote one example:

Sal die Ryk

van wit hand tot wit hand fyntjies gegee word

in die senaat, soos 'n klein dobbelsteen?

Will the Empire

pass from one white hand _delicately_ to the next

in the senate, like half a pair of dice?

The phrase _half a pair of dice_ , in this passage is an extreme example of the kind of latitude I occasionally allowed myself. The phrase serves as the semantic and metrical equivalent of _klein dobbelsteen_ ('small gambling stone'), which is Louw's own idiosyncratic rendering of the more common diminutive, _dobbelsteentjie_ ('a die'), here without the '-tjie'. Metrics required the line to be filled with 'empty' syllables. Modern English vernacular usage prefers the plural 'dice', even when only _one_ 'die' is meant. My compromise tries to accommodate all these disparate issues.

Most difficult were cases where the Afrikaans is ambiguous: _die rotsige Petra wat geen Caesars ken_ can mean either that the Nabataean city knows no Caesars _or_ that the Caesars do not know the city. Three lines later we find the key. The king of the Nabataeans wants Germanicus to describe his city to Tiberius, who is unfamiliar with the area, hence the earlier line should be rendered: _the rugged Petra that no Caesars have seen_ (Scene Seven). The accusative-and-infinitive construction is frequent in Afrikaans, and, like its Latin counterpart, lends itself to ambiguity. In the example, _Hoe't ek jou leer vertrou? Naby die wynkan?_ potential ambiguity is heightened by the fact that the Afrikaans _leer_ can mean either 'teach' or 'learn'. The context does not make it clear whether Piso is asking an underling to what degree he (Piso) had learned to trust the officer, or in what manner he had taught the officer to trust him. The context suggests most strongly that Piso is reminding the officer of his past experience of his superior's trustworthiness. Hence I have rendered the verse: _How did I teach you my trustworthiness? Next to a wine jug?_ (Scene Two).

_Conclusion_

These, then, were some of the constraints around or through which I had to work. I experienced the truth of the aphorism that constraint leads to creativity, whether in an original work or in a translation. I certainly found the exercise of translation challenging, even exhilarating. I have seldom felt so disappointed when reaching the end of a self-imposed task as when I started on the last scene. Throughout Louw's reworking of Tacitus' story-line, his colouring of the basic history of Germanicus Caesar was easily transposed. Louw is at his best in the great monologues that dominate the various debates between the main protagonists. His often non-standard Afrikaans has a grand eloquence that sweeps the reader or listener along in a torrent of densely-argued meaning. If I have in some measure succeeded in letting the richness and subtlety of Louw's Afrikaans shine through my English renditions, and if by this means a masterpiece has been made accessible to a world-wide readership, I shall have achieved my aim.

Notes

1. The name is more commonly spelled 'Cnaeus', but Louw's spelling is retained in the translation.

2. Eugene A. Nida, _Towards a science of translating with special reference to the principles and procedures involved in Bible translation_ , Leiden, 1964: 1982, quoted by France 2000:5.

3. H. Meschonnic, Pour la poétique II, Paris 1973, quoted by France 2000: 4. For an exhaustive bibliography on translation theory, see France 2000: 114-23.

4. In a personal communication, his son Peter told me (February 2007) that his father had on occasion on his travels in Italy, chatted in Latin with a priest whom he met, as his Italian was inadequate for a proper conversation.

Brief Overview of the Contents of the Drama

Louw's drama moves in a series of eight (unnumbered) 'scenes' from the military front in Germania (roughly the present Germany west and south of the Rhine) at the time of Augustus' death in 14 AD, to Rome at an unspecified date, then to the Near East, where it culminates in the death of Germanicus in 19. Historical events are in some cases collapsed and conflated, to suit the author's artistic purpose.

The only editorial change that I have made is to number the scenes and to group them into three locality-based 'Parts' of unequal length. Part I comprises the first four scenes, all set in the Rhineland area. Part II features two scenes set in Rome, whereas the final two scenes that comprise Part III are both set in the Roman Near East: Scene Seven in Nabataea, and Scene Eight at Daphne, in front of the temple of Apollo. In what follows, quotations within the summary of a scene are further specified with reference to Louw's original pagination and verse (line) numbers, assuming that each of Louw's pages starts with 'v.1'.

**Scene One** conveys the tone of Tacitus' narrative ( _Ann_. 1.31-37), rather than factual events. Some Roman officers, one of them Germanicus muffled in a disguising military cloak, approach a campfire, where soldiers are discussing the recent demise of Augustus. The soldiers are keen to rebel. Piso is portrayed as the champion of the republican ideal who urges the soldiers to declare Germanicus _imperator_. He argues that military power precedes the accession to civil power:

Who rules in Rome must rule _here_ too,

and he whom we – and you all – don't trust

drops faster from his saddle than he got on

Louw's p. 12, vv. 24-6

Germanicus throws off his cloak and stands forth to repudiate the suggestion. Agrippina appears and upbraids the soldiers, who lapse into silence, all except one. He is summarily killed by the general. Germanicus will allow no talk of rebellion but calls his men to arms for a sweep to the north.

In the **second scene** during a discussion in the tent of Piso about the growing probability that Germanicus will succumb to the lure of 'Caesarian' power politics, a minor character, 'Lucius' (not attested in the sources, but apparently created by the playwright for the purposes of his plot) expresses preference for death rather than the loss of his republican dream and the fall of his idol. This follows from Piso's suggestion that Lucius may be called upon to eliminate their potentially disappointing champion. From the dialogue we learn that Germanicus inclines more to thought than action and that Piso, a man of action, 'sees life plainly, but sees it whole'. Lucius tells him:

_You_ trained my noble thoughts, you taught me to live

in that high simplicity so much your own.

Louw's p. 24, v 24 – p. 25 v 1

Lucius' words appear to strengthen Piso's resolve to champion freedom at any cost; he decries _love_ , _friendship_ and _humanity_ as lesser things than _honour_ and _duty_.

**Scene Three** is a masterpiece of conjecture: like the speeches in ancient historiographers such as Thucydides or Tacitus, it portrays 'what might have been said', in this case what might have been said in the tent of Agrippina during consecutive conversations with her female attendant, her physician and her husband. Agrippina's fears are virtually ignored by an intellectual Germanicus, more interested in his poetic reworking of Aratus' text on astronomy than in either the possibility of his untimely death or the invitation to usurp imperial power. Agrippina urges him to dare to rule in Rome. Here she is both the strong woman depicted by Tacitus ( _Ann_. 1.40-1), and the conventionally fearful wife:

Whatever way I try to reach, I only touch

this coolly gleaming thing. This quiet rest of yours

tonight – Should you not fear? Yes, this fear,

it's good and human: keep it near your heart.

Louw's p. 32, vv. 18-21

In **Scene Four** Louw uses the ' _Botenbericht_ ' technique (narrative of action taking place off-stage) to convey the gist of _Ann_. 1.55-71, Germanicus' victories over the Chatti and Cherusci. Piso's reaction to Germanicus' sorrow over the death in action of Lucius works as a device to illustrate the growing tension between the man of action and the man of thought and feeling. The pregnant wife and father-in-law of the German rebel leader, a former 'ally' of the Romans, Arminius (here referred to as 'Herman') are brought in. The father Segestes is all ingratiating subservience to Rome, but his daughter Thusnelda stands proudly aloof. She works as a prophetic figure, presaging the fate of all members of the imperial family: there is no escape from the cloying obligations of power. She addresses Germanicus:

I don't know you ... perhaps,

perhaps you may be noble:

but noble Romans also bow to serve

to give soft names to horror-deeds,

and after carnage and fell battery to speak.

Your softest words reflect blind might.

Louw's p. 45, vv 11-16

The woman is removed and Germanicus presents gifts to his closest friends: Piso is given his sword. A letter from Tiberius recalls Germanicus to Rome; his friends urge action. Another minor character, Marcus, commits suicide out of despair at Germanicus' loyal refusal to move against Tiberius. Agrippina is aware of impending doom. 'The skull sprouts out of us,' she says (Louw's p. 57, v. 17).

The two scenes in Rome that comprise Part II of the drama set the tone for the action in its last part. In **Scene Five** , again a dramatic figment of the author's imagination, four women feature, three of them contrasted: Livia, the widow of the recently deceased emperor Augustus, and grandmother to Germanicus, is portrayed as monstrous, wrapped in blind hatred for all around her, including her son, the new emperor Tiberius, whom she nonetheless vows still to protect. The attitude of the enslaved Thusnelda reflects the spirit of Tacitus' grudging admiration for the noble savagery of German women in his great anthropological work _Germania_ (or, more correctly, _De origine et situ Germanorum_ , 'about the origin and state of the German peoples'). Against both Agrippina is matronly and noble in her attempt to protect the hapless captive. The fourth woman, Plancina, wife of Piso, Livia's confidante when the scene opens, remains a virtual lay figure, subservient to her evil patroness. She is willing, albeit uncomfortably so, to carry out the older woman's arbitrary command to stand up and measure herself against the German woman. Plancina's complaisance contrasts with the fierce independence of the captive, who speaks of herself as 'no longer human', the embodiment of hatred (Louw's p. 61, v. 7). The scene ends with Livia's injunction to Plancina to be her 'hands' when the latter accompanies her husband to the East in the entourage of Germanicus. Livia's physician will aid her on the way. We are left in no doubt that this way will be evil. Louw appears to subscribe unquestioningly to Tacitus' most negative opinions of the dowager.

The drunken and haunted emperor Tiberius of **Scene Six** , the son of Livia by her first husband and only lately and reluctantly adopted by Augustus as his heir, exhibits all the worst characteristics of the emperor as portrayed by both Tacitus and Suetonius. His consciousness of the monstrosity of power does not prevent his wielding such power to grim effect. The slave Clemens (who had pretended to be the murdered Agrippa Postumus, the brutish brother of Agrippina, and Augustus' grandson, whose death by assassination soon after Augustus' demise Tacitus designates the 'first misdeed of the new regime', _Ann_. 1.6), is brought on, blinded and horribly maimed, then taken off to suffer a predictably terrible death. This slave cannot recognize the passive Germanicus standing by horrified, and, like the voice of Thusnelda earlier, Clemens' voice becomes the voice of prophecy, predicting an early death for the unknown young man before him. Germanicus retreats further into dismayed silence when a 'message to Germanicus' is given him to relay: that all had thought to find a saviour in the prince, but:

... he ... he swills with them from the selfsame trough.

You take this message: say: 'The world, it hates him

and thinks he's small'.

Louw's p. 78, v. 32

Louw's Tiberius exhibits awareness of the many-headedness of the monster Power but he has willingly accepted the burden of guilt, whether it be the need to sign a death warrant for a hundred slaves or to suppress a revolt against his own rule: he is trapped in a circle of violence:

This is what to rule becomes, so blind, so pitiless!

Louw's p. 81, v.31

An aspect of the problem of the author's portrayal of initial friendship between Piso and Germanicus and the gradual revulsion of Piso against his hero may be found in this scene: Livia comes to warn her son against Piso's potential for rebellion, indicates Plancina as her informant and offers the latter's services in the East as a check upon her own husband. So Plancina does not share her husband's ideals. The complicity of Louw's Plancina presages the statement of her loyalty to Livia in the _Senatusconsultum de patre Pisone_ , referred to in the Introduction above. Louw, however, highlights a dimension which that document vigorously denies: his Plancina will be the purveyor of the poison.

During the course of this episode it becomes abundantly clear that, while no love is lost between Tiberius and his mother, they are inextricably tied together. The scene closes with Livia's explanation to Plancina that she never knows, but can only guess, what Tiberius intends and that the two of them must try to carry out what they think are his wishes:

we, we are his hands

which by some quirk are severed wholly from his heart.

Louw's p. 88, v. 19

The action of the last two scenes (Part III) takes place in the Roman Near East. **Scene Seven** stages the events of _Ann_. 2.57 – a feast at which the king of the Nabataeans offered his Roman visitors golden coronets. Germanicus accepts his gift as a gesture of courtesy but Piso rejects his with contumely. Germanicus is hesitant, clearly ill. Piso is strong and violent in his reactions. After the Easterners have withdrawn there is some discussion among the Romans about the nature of Germanicus' ailment and the possibility that he is systematically being poisoned. Agrippina appears concerned, Plancina angry at an insinuation of her complicity in Germanicus' illness and the implication that Livia and Tiberius are involved. When all leave, Germanicus and Piso talk. Each complains of the other's behaviour. The contrast between the two is clear: Piso is the staunch republican to whom trappings of royal power are anathema: he does not understand diplomacy and accuses Germanicus of having succumbed to the lure of the East:

Germanicus, you're young-old, weak and limp.

Here in the East you have gone too soft,

/ ................ / ... _etc_

You're now a dilettante.

Louw's p. 97, vv. 12-13, 24

Germanicus' counter-complaint is about Piso's abuse of his power as local governor, as described by Tacitus ( _Ann_. 2.55, 57 and 69) and spelled out at Piso's later trial. This may be seen as an illustration of the clash between the republican system which the emperor Augustus had pretended to restore and the fact of a new, imperial system, to which Germanicus was the heir-apparent. The areas of authority of the representatives of the old and new systems had not yet been sufficiently clearly defined. Louw's Piso accuses Germanicus of being reluctant to uphold Roman control and finally tries to manipulate him into action against Tiberius with a promise to detect and prevent the poisoning which is sapping the prince's strength, even if it should mean the death of his own wife.

Germanicus' cosmic vision of the insignificance of human action against the sweep of the universe translates into a realization of his inability – as well as his reluctance – to act. He indignantly repudiates Piso's offer. Like his young friend Lucius, he will not be untrue to old loyalties. His choice is certain death rather than rebellion against Tiberius; and the scene ends with a formal _renuntiatio amicitiae_ ('renouncing of friendship') before witnesses, which was an acknowledged manner of recognising irreconcilable differences between former political allies. Tacitus reports Germanicus' use of a formal letter ( _Ann_. 2.70). Germanicus abjures all further intimacy with Piso. From various ancient sources we know that loss of imperial friendship had become a virtual 'kiss of death' since the poet Cornelius Gallus, late prefect of Egypt, lost favour with Augustus in about 26 BC and was forced to commit suicide. All this is implied in Louw's presentation in this scene of a face-to-face confrontation between his two protagonists.

In the **eighth and last scene** , set at Daphne near Antioch on the Orontes, Germanicus' officers discuss the reaction of the local population to the illness of their general. Louw's emphasis on Eastern elements in the last part of the drama is generally interpreted as his recognition of a changing world-order and of the rise of Christianity as an Eastern religion that brought about this change. This creative interpretation of the era would have had no basis in the consciousness of the historical figures concerned, nor in that of the historiographer Tacitus; and it should not be over-emphasized in judging Louw's drama.

A dying Germanicus repeatedly inquires about the doings of his erstwhile friend. He then admits to his presence a muffled stranger, on receipt of a token – the sword he gave to Piso in Germany. Piso enters. Their last conversation essentially recapitulates the immovable stance of each protagonist; inevitably their clash is fatal. Piso dominates the conversation in a series of virtual monologues. His formerly idealized champion is dying because he would not be a hero and he himself will die because he could not move Germanicus to take up the calling. Germanicus replies mildly that no one person is the cause of his death, but time itself:

Not you, nor Livia, nor Plancina ...

I'm dying of this time

Louw's p. 113, v. 20

He does not explain further than this. He is a passive onlooker, both of his own death and of the changing world. In this Louw deviates widely from Tacitus' version, where amid lamentation Germanicus denounced Piso and Plancina and called for revenge ( _Ann._ 2.69). Schunk (1955: 131-4) considers that Tacitus intended with this episode to suggest the essential guilt of the Caesars, where Piso, too, has become _ein Opfer des Tiberius_ ('a victim of Tiberius'). Agrippina enters and threatens Piso with revenge:

You may not perish without pain!

Louw's p. 115, v. 7

Vengeance will be her 'child', Agrippina says. Germanicus has the last, apparently flaccid, word in what Antonissen has called the 'sublime dispute':

Go now, please, Piso. This is not really parting.

_Piso off._ [ _To Agrippina_ ]

And now it's time to die, dearest. I loved you

dearly. Let them now carry me inside.

And maybe nothing will be lost.

Louw's p. 115, v. 24 – p. 116, v. 1

Right to the end his cosmic speculations appear of more importance to Louw's Germanicus than the end of a friendship, or even than the parting with his wife. The old doctor, by implication the real murderer, makes the final pronouncement:

By now he's with the Caesars.

Louw's p. 116, v. 3

PART I

ROMAN ENCAMPMENT NEAR THE RHINE BORDER

Scene One

Roman camp in northern France

Evening

[1]

Evening. Roman camp in Northern France near the present Netherlands. Tents in the background. Three or four soldiers are sitting or standing around a campfire. Others occasionally pass to and fro in the darkness behind. The glow of other fires may be seen. Drizzle. Gloomy light.

FIRST SOLDIER

He is old and gnarled, with a grey head; very few teeth left in his mouth

All's astir and simmering tonight. It's here.

I feel it.

SECOND SOLDIER

Grim, resentful, taciturn

What d'you hear round the fires?

THIRD SOLDIER

Comes up; younger, the most rebellious of all; the actual instigator; he was formerly an actor in Rome

It's a strange porridge a-plopping in the pots

tonight. At every tent in this here camp

they've just one story: Germanicus must choose;

the nice young general must act now ... or scoot.

SECOND SOLDIER

Him you mustn't touch. We know him. Tell what they say.

The others murmur agreement

FIRST SOLDIER

But I just don't trust it. Blow on the embers.

THIRD SOLDIER

Still standing

Stir up the embers, stir up well!

That's all that great Rome will offer you, old greybeard,

– if you fetch the wood yourself – fire, water,

air – or smoke – three precious elements ...

but even those who have no swords, get these,

we, soldiers of the legions, [2]

are owed more.

FIRST SOLDIER

No, I don't trust your talk. Dark-night talk is crooked,

and mornings bring those fellows with the whip,

My back is old and I am tired.

SECOND SOLDIER

So'm I;

but this has to end now.

THIRD SOLDIER

Tired? That's it!

Sick 'n tired, I want to vomit on this land –

just one big marsh, reeds and small white frogs ...

where we splash like herons through the mud.

FOURTH SOLDIER

His face is heavy, dull; not much intelligence

Gods, if I were back in Rome, with money,

in my old pub; and better womenfolk

than these here white ones. What makes me sick, is them!

THIRD SOLDIER

Yes, if you had money, that you'll get where,

Priapus? And any stupid knight can offer more,

can buy you out.

Listen. It's close to us – us folks with the swords –

not with the pale senators in Rome.

Don't I just know 'em!

He strikes an oratorical pose

"Our noble legions ..."

Then more softly, like an actor's aside

"Those black brush-heads that stink of sweat

and rancid oil ...."

[ _Again the orator's tone_ ] "Our bravest legions

that bring to the borders of the yellow Rhine

and foreign streams our wide-compassing rule

– no, right to the Danube, Euphrates and grey Pillars

and the deserts of Africa – brought it there [3]

and guards it still ..."

[ _Again more softly, in mock aside_ ] "Ye gods, pray keep 'em there!"

In his ordinary voice

Two languages they have; one for us and one ...

FOURTH SOLDIER

And you talk three: Latin, and big, and rot.

Is that the tale you spin at all the fires, huh?

SECOND SOLDIER

Is this a theatre? And do you want applause?

THIRD SOLDIER

He's not yet sick of daily kicks and blows.

He still goes sucking at the sergeant's whip,

five cents or so – and then his clothes and weapons, tent

and juicy tarts are paid. But that's not us!

Are we not of a proud old ruling race ...

SECOND SOLDIER

Just hear the candid senator!

FOURTH SOLDIER

They hung him out to bleach.

FIRST SOLDIER

But what he says, is true. It's twenty winters

that I have borne like this until the winter

came and sat upon my head: just see my hands –

gnarled roots; and see my back – it's been tanned with blows.

SECOND SOLDIER

Octavian still sits, old and tough in Rome,

where you too helped the man to get.

Germanicus comes up, dressed like a common soldier, unrecognisable to the others; with him is Lucius, a young officer

FIRST SOLDIER

Ah, them were the days ...

When an old man still could get a little farm.

I wanted to have sons ... nice brown Roman boys....

before I'm old and done for. [4]

FOURTH SOLDIER

Just listen to Apollo!

GERMANICUS

May I join you at your fire?

THIRD SOLDIER

Who is this? Why lurk in the shadows above the coals?

I've never seen you in the ranks before!

GERMANICUS

There's many, mate, that you don't know and don't

know you. Why don't I ask: Who're you?

To Lucius and the rest

He's one of those that think all look at them,

and Rome revolves obediently around their wants.

FIRST SOLDIER

Come closer. In them old days, I tell you, man,

– the days of the old Octavian –

I was a youngster still, not quite yet ...

THIRD SOLDIER

He's one

of those that creep and crawl to listen in the dark!... But ...

tonight you all must know! It's tonight, for sure

that the legions stir. Tonight!

SECOND SOLDIER

No crawling's done round here; only in Rome, oh yes...

THIRD SOLDIER

Why do we sit here on the bare damp borders?

Fight through the shining riverbeds and forests,

and then withdraw, and shiver in the winter

around a few damp sticks. How long, old greybeard

have you been serving? Twenty years?

[ _To another soldier_ ] You?

FOURTH SOLDIER

Eighteen

THIRD SOLDIER [5]

Twelve, me – just see how bare, how poor we are!

SECOND SOLDIER

That's so. And the fat praetorians sit

in Rome, with clean swords and shiny bums

from doing nothing.

THIRD SOLDIER

no: lie and leer

with heavy lids and half-asleep at all the women!

Augustus sits a-dying, mumbling on and on;

And all around the jackals lie and wait,

that evil hag, Agrippa semi-mad;

Tiberius in whom the black blood of the Claudii

rots. Who will rule us all – sit right on top,

atop the host of senators and knights and consuls ...

those thousand burdens grinding down our backs?

SECOND SOLDIER

What do you want? One still must rule?

THIRD SOLDIER

No, us!

We, like the legions brought Octavian,

so we must bring our general right into Rome!

And we shall rule!

FOURTH SOLDIER

Our backsides will!

SECOND SOLDIER

Germanicus, the general?

THIRD SOLDIER

Germanicus! He must! We want it. This very night

With the legions of the Germanies

About him, so he must move, to Italy, to Rome,

And be our Imperator.

[ _More quietly_ ] Just hear me, I know

what no-one else knows: in Syria, in Pannonia

rebellion also looms – the legions simmer now ...

GERMANICUS [6]

Still not recognised

And, if the general should choose to stay

– we know him like that – just take his bit of land,

like the old man here?

THIRD SOLDIER

Then we wipe our boots on him!

FIRST SOLDIER

You'll tread on nails.

SECOND SOLDIER

The legions all

adore Germanicus – pile on – will follow him,

no problem flashing swords in the senate ...

wait, blow ...

FIRST SOLDIER

The rain and wind of this grim land!

THIRD SOLDIER

The men are out. Listen to their shouts!

Something about "Augustus". Has Augustus come?

FIFTH SOLDIER

Comes up; he is a soldier who has come from Rome with the imperial courier to Germanicus; he speaks with the self-assurance of a member of the praetorian guard

Evening, chaps. There's news. Augustus kicked the bucket.

At last! And the grandma holds her ground,

is called Augusta! I have come here, with

the imperial messenger to Germanicus.

It's freezing. Lemme get a little closer, now!

SOLDIERS [ _Shouting_ ]

Augustus dead!

The grand old emp'ror's dead!

THIRD SOLDIER

Who's reigning now? Tiberius? Livia? Tell us, quick!

FIFTH SOLDIER

Agrippa's murdered too. Tiberius reigns.

He took the empire in hand, so, all delicate [7]

as though his hand would stink – but gripped it fast,

believe me, and all the noble senators crouch low

and blow away the dust before his sandals.

FIRST SOLDIER [ _Pensively_ ]

He was a general in Germany ...

THIRD SOLDIER

And what is said in Rome about Germanicus?

FOURTH SOLDIER

Listen. There's shouting. The men are crowding round.

The gen'ral's tent! The buccinator's speaking!

Other soldiers cross the stage in the background.

THIRD SOLDIER [ _forcefully_ ]

Now is the hour. Soldiers, come and listen here!

It's one of you that's speaking here. I know,

as you do, shame and blows and suffering;

the centurion's staff, the burden to carry wood, to dig

in stone-hard winter earth; to pile up sods with hands

frozen stiff with frost, nails worn down to the quick.

A crowd of soldiers has gathered and they listen intently

Tonight, now, our hour strikes!

Are we to bend our backs like the senate?

Augustus has died ...

SOLDIERS [ _From the rear_ ]

The emperor dead?

We thought he's coming here!

They say he's sick.

THIRD SOLDIER

Augustus has died.

How? Ask that of Livia Augusta!

And now someone's playing ruler back at Rome:

the sly Tiberius.

Yes, laugh!

Will the Empire

pass from one white hand delicately to the next

in the senate, like half a pair of dice? [8]

Who makes and keeps the Empire? Who holds its gift?

It's us – the legionaries!

Tiberius sits at Rome, sly and horrible,

and plays with children – ye gods, what games!

Let the legions of Germany and Pannonia

first stand beside Germanicus, then march

and Rome will shake! Gold, ground and freedom

for those who've fought and won!

To his tent! [ _General agreement_ ]

GERMANICUS

Still disguised as a soldier

Listen, calm down! The emperor's testament ...

THIRD SOLDIER

Are we to be chattels in his inheritance?

GERMANICUS

Germanicus is not a traitor. Nor must you be!

VOICES [ _Confused_ ]

Who's this?

Who's speaking?

It's a centurion!

Kill him, kill!

Drag him away! The dogs!

Just last night they beat me raw. Feel here, my back.

That's nothing: look here!

GERMANICUS

Throws off his mantle and stands revealed as the general

Take this, Lucius. And stand behind me.

VOICES OF SOLDIERS

The general!

Who?

Where?

Who says the general's coming?

Good, let him come. He'll hear the whole truth.

That skinny fellow there?

Gods, it's the general, it's him! [9]

Now you'll see a pretty pass.

What, are you scared?

Who was so full of boastful talk? This clown?

GERMANICUS

Hear me, soldiers. Or must I now say "citizens"?

I see a mob here, milling round like market-day –

no soldiers these.

THIRD SOLDIER

In the crowd, but from the rear

Yes, this is Rome! This is the senate, seems to me.

Laughter

LUCIUS

Be quiet!

VOICES

Shut up!

And let the general speak!

GERMANICUS

I am loyal. And loyalty is part of me.

Must I address you as this muddled mob?

Are you still cohorts? Or is it just a crazy mob?

VOICE

From the rear

We'll hear all right, if you can say what's right!

OTHER VOICES

Listen.

Be quiet.

Germanicus must speak.

Let's hear the general's words!

GERMANICUS

What do you want?

Who's been abused? – Of course I'll act for him.

FIRST SOLDIER

General, if I may speak. I'm sixty now.

Forty long years I've been on service and now I'm beat

Just see my hands. Look at my bent back. [10]

You ask if I've been whipped? By now I'm tamed.

Feel here my gums, there's stumps, not teeth to chew.

Why can't I rest? Will the great Empire leave be ...

give me a bit of land someplace where I

– well then, where I can die?

SECOND SOLDIER

General.

there's thousands more of us who twenty years

summer and winter, loyally served the Caesars,

– before you knew these swamps and marshes

when you were still a boy, then we already marched.

Could sixteen years not mark an end to service?

OTHER SOLDIERS

Just look, see all my weals.

And mine.

And so we all.

And money!

The money!

Five cents for all our wounds.

GERMANICUS

Soldiers, I see it's bitter living here.

But Caesar gave command and we were true

right up till now. I'll see it through. Complaints

Will be attended to.

VOICES [ _In the rear_ ]

It's the Caesars we accuse,

old ones and new!

A LOYAL SOLDIER

March on to Rome,

And we'll march too.

VOICES

From the rear, becoming louder

Hail Germanicus!

Germanicus to be our Caesar!

OTHER VOICES

Away with all the Caesars! [11]

Agrippina, the wife of Germanicus, comes up, accompanied by Piso, his second in command; soldiers with torches.

AGRIPPINA

My love!

Have you been hurt? I thought I heard your voice

among these dangerous men. My fears

kept me awake – tonight, a hundred nights like this,

no way to know if you're still safe; today,

Tomorrow, a year from now, I see it come,

I know that. These wet, grey fields ...

VOICES OF SOLDIERS

Piso, swarthy Piso!

Agrippina.

Who, her?

The general's wife, grandchild of Octavian?

Wait, let me look.

I know her well, it's her.

GERMANICUS

It's nothing.

Hear me, men: not in the night,

_not_ in the dark midst this dumb confusion

will I address your rights. Go to your fires,

go to your tents and rest. Tomorrow ...

VOICE [ _From the rear_ ]

Tomorrow, tomorrow! It's always the next day

that justice will be done – never today.

THIRD SOLDIER

Just listen!

The soldiers of the old sixth legion,

the really tough men! I thought as much, they'll come.

The crowd grows larger; voices get louder

VOICES

Let's go to Caesar!

Then on to Rome! [12]

Germanicus is _here_!

Hey! Hey!

Halt, there at back!

THIRD SOLDIER

Caesar! Here you now hear the people's voice.

I'll follow you, and every man that's standing here.

We want you as emperor, not old Tiberius, no.

PISO

Stand back

I know you well: you are the clown.

To the soldiers

Will the badgers ... no, skunks from city sewers

Here take command?

Go find some market-straw to gnaw!

We're soldiers here.

Listen men, be quiet:

it is the ancient right of every legion

to make on battlefields rulers for our weal

– the world even – to call out _imperator_.

None can take that right away ...

VOICES

Black Piso's speaking

Arrogant as he always is.

But he's right.

He's with us here.

Black Piso stands alongside us.

PISO

Who rules in Rome must rule _here_ too,

and he whom we – I and you all – don't trust

drops faster from his saddle than he got on.

Some soldiers are already laughing.

GERMANICUS

Piso, you speak great things; they're double-tongued,

a trap's been set – but I'm still not sure for whom.

SIXTH SOLDIER [13]

More rebellious; he comes from the legion that has just arrived, whose camp is situated further away and hence is less under the influence of Germanicus' personality

We, soldiers of the sixth, we want to know,

Germanicus, he wonders, thinks and weighs ...

he's always:

Right on the one hand; Wrong is on the other –

three points count for it, two are against ...

Mimicking him

"Listen, soldiers, this matter is not so simple ..."

Suddenly harsh

Always, weighing, weighing. Tonight there's nought to weigh.

GERMANICUS [ _calmly_ ]

Ere I let you drag me citywards in triumph

to be the butt of every clown, libertine

and toothless veteran in Rome,

I'll draw my sword myself ...

SIXTH SOLDIER

Take mine! It's sharp –

Not the fly-swatter that a general wears.

Laughter and taunting; the atmosphere is tense

AGRIPPINA

Back! Yap in front of other doors!

A dog from the Suburra

comes here to bark at Caesar.

What do I care for Tiberius' great name?

Did I not stand at the Long Bridge over the Rhine,

stand there that day

when Aulus Caecina had to fall back from

the marshy mud of the Batavian swamps?

Who wanted to destroy the bridge? And leave our men right there?

This man and his kind who now can bark so loud ...

Safe behind a water-shield.

She addresses individual soldiers in the circle

and leave _you_ there [14]

and _you_ and _you –_ you know this well, I know you:

you with the two front teeth like a hare

were you not wounded on that day?

Did _you_

not reach me all slashed about?

Food, clothing,

rags you were glad to get ... you all sought

to kiss my hands ... now you all stand here with _him_!

VOICES

That's true!

She spoke a mouthful.

Where's that dirty dog?

This is a child that great Agrippa bred.

AGRIPPINA

Well then. That's fine. Th' honour of my soldiers ...

I hold it to the light: foul in my hand!

I'll take my children now—those that you dandle

and play at horsies through the tents—

and I shall seek another legion now.

VOICES [ _Of her supporters_ ]

Come, catch the cur!

OPPOSING VOICES

We are with him. He's right!

SIXTH SOLDIER

Unnerved, but holding his own

Go back to Rome, seek out your legions

from Julia, the whore ...

[ _Over his shoulders, to the rest_ ] ... her mother!

Jeers and noise, Lucius springs forward

GERMANICUS

Stand back. 't is my right to strike the victim down .

He fells the Sixth Soldier with his sword. The man falls down among the rest. Sudden silence. He speaks in a very low tone.

The first time ever that I struck

a veteran of mine. [15]

I stand ashamed before you all

You should have hurled your taunts at _me_ ...

This madness is contagious; the dog bites,

and I go mad, who was his master up to now,

approachable.

But all are bitten, both you and I

Tiberius, and Rome, this madness slavers forth

and hangs in slimy loops upon us all.

Contumely ...

He said it all: three points are _pro_ , two _con_ ;

and who makes subtraction into proper sums?

More forcefully

Let us all make an end to talk.

You people want to take the world by storm;

make firm your hearts with truth and trust.

Be iron, welded firm, constrained as one

by trust – not sand that trickles through the fingers.

Fools. Fools. Varus' own legions

lie unburied in the marshes. Think now:

if we set off now for Rome, will the German host

stay here to watch our tents, carry kindling wood?

They'll sweep us all, take Rome and sweep

into the blue tepid Sea ...

You stupid, stupid men: you feel rebellious

– a shoe pinches or a buckle's pulled too tight

and you want to take on the rulers of the world!

Soldiers appear ashamed; ringleaders quietly withdraw

Go to your tents, all. Tomorrow sees us march.

First north!

Approving murmur of voices from the rear

VOICES

First north!

First north.

[ _Jubilantly_ ] North first. Then south!

_Voices from the rear swell to a mighty roar, then die down_ [16]

Hail Caesar!

PISO

You heard it: "North first, then south." Like one.

They think that it's a promise.

And what they yell, is heard in city ears.

[ _To Agrippina_ ] Tiberius will not forget how you, tonight,

tamed _your_ legions with a word.

Scene Two

Piso's tent

That same night

[17]

The same night. Piso's tent. He walks up and down impatiently; then he hears something, goes to the door and lets in two officers.

FIRST OFFICER

You had us called?

SECOND OFFICER

What's going on? I thought I heard a scream?

FIRST OFFICER

The general is stirring up the troops.

PISO

Augustus is dead. Tiberius rules.

SECOND OFFICER

And he, Germanicus, will he not yield?

FIRST OFFICER

He'll lead our armies back to Rome then?

and squash the Caesars flat?

PISO

He's waiting, waiting ... perhaps he has refused ...

SECOND OFFICER

That can't be so: the army's on the march!

PISO

But northwards ... as Tiberius' men.

SECOND OFFICER

Not to gain freedom then?

PISO [ _Impatiently_ ]

North, north, north – 'gainst the German hosts.

Listen: tonight all stands upon a crux,

the world weighs on the sharp edge of a knife

and all around is turmoil.

[ _To Second Officer_ ] You'll follow me?

What I decide, that will suffice for you?

Second Officer nods

Then watch outside, walk all around this tent,

So many ears are cocked to hear us talk. [18]

To First Officer

And you: stand at the tent-flap,

let no-one enter that didn't take our oath,

a brother in conspiracy.

Second Officer goes off; First Officer stands at the tent flap; Piso sits down; then other officers come in, one at a time.

THIRD OFFICER

Piso, what is going on?

PISO

Wait till we are all here, there're few enough.

– In former times one couldn't count the Roman men ...

Lucius enters tent with young Fourth Officer

FOURTH OFFICER

What is it, Lucius? What is the message, Piso?

LUCIUS

Forty years now the Romans have had a lord,

an overlord; we creep like snails along the foot

and over us the mighty trunk of Caesar looms,

He walks above and treads but hardly sees us;

all has grown small, just one is great

and grossly towers over us.

We're in a pit. Where once the domed expanse

of highest heaven stretched out over us,

is now a slivered day, a pinpoint-light

to which we all, both you and I, like blind worms

wriggle our little necks. Now it will end!

Once more we shall be Roman men. Germanicus,

he knows the goal, the way, he'll lead us on

to that freedom where the Roman race

once more shall stand above the earth, a lofty pine.

His legions themselves spoke it outright.

Piso, our hour has come!

PISO

But he refused.

LUCIUS [19]

I thought I heard him say: "First north, then south"?

North first, then southwards – weren't those his very words?

PISO

No, he said nothing. Soldiers clamoured, yes.

Those that never think, they shouted something out;

perhaps they think their stupid yells and cries

reveal a spark of future worlds to them.

Tomorrow they'll start thinking that they _heard_.

But true, there _was_ a call ...

LUCIUS

Piso, you're bitter.

They did shout this. And, sure, that's what he thinks?

PISO

What he thinks no-one knows – as little as _he_

can know our thoughts ...

[ _To the whole group_ ] he's our hope, our only one,

the only man who dares take on the house

of Caesar and – destroy its dark power ...

AN OFFICER

But he, Germanicus, is Caesar born.

LUCIUS

In him Rome lives again: he's grave but simple

his pride in honour bound ... he _is_ no Caesar:

the name is false, he had it smeared on him –

a ... Claudius from a lengthy line.

When I look at him now, I feel so proud

to live near one like him at such a time ...

PISO

If I may speak: he is the only one –

or should I say: he was – who can resurrect

a free Republic, erase from our long annals

the dark line of Caesars, dictators over all,

and free us from long bondage now.

That's why I stooped, old soldier that I am

to serve at his command, boy that he is. [20]

Each one of us alone the Caesars and Tiberius

can crush like nits in the pigtails of a wench.

AN OFFICER

You call out dangerous names, my Piso.

LUCIUS

We know there's danger, but danger's grand ...

PISO

The Caesars hold all laws in their hands.

They own the legions and the stupid mobs.

They trust the flat and fertile provinces

which just need peace to grow fat and prosperous.

We are but few that sing a different tune ...

LUCIUS

But he,

Germanicus, is one of those. Now we shall strike.

AN OFFICER

Rebellion, this. This I did not expect.

LUCIUS

Rebellion. Danger, yes!. This is the deed

for which we've spent a lifetime reaching out

like to no woman. From these same marshy lands

the first Caesar marched, wiry old Julius,

brought arms to Rome and shattered the state,

our freedom and its honour, all; and now

from these same marshlands it billows back,

irrevocable, washing away Caesars in its wake.

PISO

To Officer who has just spoken

How did I teach you my trustworthiness? Next to a wine jug?

Or in the declamations at your school?

You dare think to hesitate? And in this hour?

You: take up command and head your cohort now!

Keep this in mind: I shall persecute you still

– or any other, whoever, anywhere –

if you betray your oath. [ _This Officer goes off_ ] [21]

Are there any others

who'd go with him? Reduce the Roman ranks?

OFFICERS

We stand with you.

PISO

"Stand", yes; "we stand" is fine.

We all can stand. But I must speak.

We are the last true ones of our race,

in this small band –

the last ones to keep republican ideals.

Yes, we forget, so much we have forgotten yet:

Ahala of old who felled a king with a single blow,

the first great Brutus and the Cincinnati,

the Scipios, that were reckless in their arrogance,

twice each one died: once quiet and proud

among the masks of all their ancestors

that ruled the earth, yet once again:

then when they faded in our memories and hearts.

Just one thing we remember well: to bend our backs,

crawl and flatter, sell ourselves. No longer do we

grow to Roman man's estate:

petty shopkeepers with onions and shallots

soft white onions from Ashkalon or Syria –

we all are now, we chose that role ourselves.

Yes, the man who felled the first Caesar amongst

a senate forged from foreign blood – that man

have we nearly forgotten, his great deed undone.

But all can change now, all hinges on this night.

Tonight he had his chance to act.

The world looks on – they see a different man

from what we see, the young Germanicus.

Who are not looking up to him tonight:

– come, let us be clear, as poison's clear,

think how the legions stand by him and shout ...

"Emperor" they shout, and hope for great victories [22]

for booty, for fat pay packets and shorter terms;

the mob, the teeming masses, dark and wild,

what do they think – if they do think and don't just shout:

"Germanicus"? – what? That he's young and handsome,

son of Drusus, friendly to all, polite –

that costs so little – perhaps vaguely think that he

will grant largesse, the dross that they call "Justice",

to all the little men, the meaner streets of Rome;

Marcus and Caius, officers under him:

each strives for wealth, and hope for honour's crown

through him, if he should rule ... But then we

we who are so few and must speak darkly:

we waited all, whispered his name with hope

to our soldiers, we then believed of him

that he would uproot the cancer that is Caesar ...

I've heard him often: much he had to say

of virtue and told me of our former good.

I think I was a fool, stupid like a boy.

LUCIUS

He cannot cheat us now!

PISO

Lucius, Lucius.

To the group

Listen: tonight there was something that broke.

We all were eager to drive him on, to follow fast ...

from now on each of us may have to act alone.

When he is Caesar, we'll stand up to him again.

But we shall be too few and far between.

And yet, he might but be an instrument of the Caesars,

yet mighty in his loyalty to Rome ...

it's all uncertain. Each must do as he sees fit.

And I am tired and my courage done.

It's forty years.

[ _Forcefully_ ] Our will shall not yet break, for it is tough,

it lasted forty years. Go, each to his task. [23]

Tonight makes new demands. We shall stay true.

I have decided. This first must be our only task:

that we stay silent – not incite, nor must we warn,

no more of what we did before, sowing

loose words, loose thoughts among the soldier mobs

in the coarse, dull black furrows of their brains:

"Follow Germanicus", " _He_ is our man –"

now nothing but to wait and watch:

don't stir a finger this way or that;

no breath of air on the feather-lightness of his will,

but watch which way he stirs – and act on that ...

[ _Softly_ ] and, if he fails, Rome dare not fall with him.

LUCIUS

Let us prepare to meet a swift and silent death.

Piso remains sitting at the table without moving; the other officers go off singly; only Lucius lingers.

PISO

Perhaps you are too hasty – a young man's blood yearns

either for fiery life or fiery, sudden death ...

Do you know what he was doing when we

entered his tent to plan the march with him?

Translating Aratus. Polishing the translation then

– something about stars, I think – on such a night as this.

And you get these ecstasies and long for death.

Lucius, what if he too becomes a slave

As all, as all the best have done?

LUCIUS

He cannot! He's too clean; a noble clarity sits

In his grey eyes

PISO

What, eyes? What, his face?

Let women hand out sovereignty according to his eyes.

And any mob.

LUCIUS

But he's like glass, such clarity, [24]

And what I _see_ is truer than my thought.

That's often murky, dim, uncertain too.

PISO

You say he's glass? For you he's just a mirror:

no-one sees through him – your image only, your youth,

the reflection of your own true worth,

[ _Suddenly softly_ ] My Lucius, if only you could learn this too

mankind is opaque and so full of guile,

deep strange layers in the heart and brain.

[ _More loudly_ ] His silent core, what you all call his clarity

if I could know, know, could tear him open somehow

and peer down in his depths, look – his silent soul

take it out, hold up before my eyes and know:

is this a sickly recklessness? or fear?

the sober weighing up of lust and fear?

is this the cold blood of shark or dog fish?

that bides its time, waits? This pause, the silence ...

and henceforth Caesar, monarch? It's his birthright.

Then, Lucius?

Tyrants can die ... though tyranny lives on.

LUCIUS

What then?

PISO

What did an ancient Roman do?

LUCIUS

Don't ask me that. Not that. Not _me_ , 'gainst _him_.

PISO

You're weak. It's all so soft, it's butter-soft

where I want to lay my hand on Roman steel.

LUCIUS

Piso, you ask too much. You were my friend,

_you_ were my more-than-father; _you_ formed me then,

_you_ trained my noble thoughts, _you_ taught me to live

in that high simplicity so much your own. [25]

I needed to be ripped, you ripped me loose

an obsequious underling, from bowing down

to this late and lukewarm era of our race.

You made me see just what Rome was formerly.

And then I saw him: he stood apart

and all unlearned showed true nobility

like something not from seed nor mortal growth

but sprung from gods, ever in silent clarity.

You ask too much ...

PISO

We were so great and stern.

The earth could shatter round us, break.

Child, parent, wife, we offered all to slaughter,

just so that we could rule the whole wide world,

LUCIUS

Just don't ask that.

PISO

... just so that noble should rule over base, master rule

his slave, Roman over those that think limp, humble

thoughts. Now we too are so soft and limp,

LUCIUS

Can you not ask some other thing.

PISO

... and all is weak, it droops and clings to our fingers;

It's "love" and "friendship", "humanity",

Those are your words – "honour", "duty" are no more ...

LUCIUS

Not against him, no – I'd rather die myself.

PISO

And maybe die for a lesser man than you.

LUCIUS

I just don't know. Yes, I know, I know.

PISO

You know?

if he's juggling us around? or if he fears? [ _Laughs_ ] [26]

you're made of fire – can you think like snow?

LUCIUS

Keep me from knowing. First doubts, then double doubts ...

how small the deed, how great is death.

That I shall clutch. I'll fall when this campaign is done

as if to a feast; and the closely tangled web

of all my doubting, this uncertainty

will fall apart. I shall not think but die.

And the holy scales of "loving" against "pride",

these will the gods keep fast and handle well.

Not my place to judge him! Goodnight, Piso.

PISO [ _Tiredly_ ]

Wait first.

Will you remember that I loved you well?

And if you break faith, I'll strike you down.

And even then old Piso'll love you still.

And ... that you were noble but did not want –

that cannot be forgiven you. [ _Lucius off_ ]

Not even death can undo knots like these;

that's what young men think, and weaklings.

Trust no man fully, for all can break.

But hold fast to your own will, cling to freedom,

and certain death to all that ask for less.

Scene Three

Agrippina's tent

That same night

[27]

The same night. Agrippina in her tent, holding a mirror; Marcia, her aged lady-in-waiting, is fixing her hair

MARCIA

You would not sleep tonight. That's bad. It's very unwise.

AGRIPPINA

But I feel awake. I wish we could, this very night,

depart just as the morning stars appear.

Just listen: in the dark of night the legions stir.

Iron clanks 'gainst iron. Hear them start their march.

Jumps up, goes towards the door

I feel myself march with each darkened footfall.

The night itself is stirring, gains life and cruelty

as the mighty armies prepare to march.

MARCIA

Oh dear! I haven't done! Come, sit here!

How your lovely curls do twist into a mop!

AGRIPPINA

I wish I could with locks run wild bestride a horse

and lead the men. Our armies choose the way

to the heart of the great Germany; our chase;

today is going to be fine.

MARCIA

You're a woman; you've children.

AGRIPPINA

But he and I shall hunt! He is the tiger

and I the tiger's dam: we hunt as one.

Gets up again

D'you know, I am not afraid of blood like women –

like other women ...

MARCIA

Do sit. Just for a moment.

AGRIPPINA [28]

Sits again; softly

I have walked across his battlefields alone

where thousands, where every yard a man lay dead

and reeking blood; and horses neighing still in fear

(it is a dreadful sight as dumb brutes scream

and stagger, drag and bite)

and wounds where life is throbbing out ...

and ... listen here ... my heart was glad and proud

that he had power, that I could be his wife!

MARCIA

This is terrible. Sometimes I fear for you.

Your thoughts must be of softer things.

I've done.

AGRIPPINA [ _Gets up_ ]

His power, power. That is my husband's beauty.

MARCIA

He's like a boy: his eyes are clear and bright.

AGRIPPINA

And, hear this too: if he should win in this campaign,

then all the world lies open too

and we shall play, play like two young hounds,

and know no fear nor any need to keep silence ...

MARCIA

The men of Rome they love Germanicus

and want no other lord than only him.

AGRIPPINA

I'll fight it, fight this fear of mine!

You know: I know this fear, it's just as black,

it's just as rank and dreadful as that pride

with which I tread alike on the dying and the dead.

When he is on the battlefield and I at home,

waiting scared in my tent and ask for news,

then I cringe, sit and shiver like a young girl,

and feel my shame and perish, perish dumb.

I should like to be a man – [29]

and yet his wife.

And then the other more secret fear:

something I cannot touch, can't even give a name;

and round him, round him it settles fast ...

that fear must go ... and all must fear only him!

MARCIA

I could not do that. I know his heart so well.

AGRIPPINA

Those that lie and glare in Rome – _they_ will!

Only the most powerful has beauty.

And I desire beauty – beauty just for him.

MARCIA

Your speech is wild and reckless, child.

Germanicus' elderly personal physician comes on with parcels and flasks; fidgets and scratches around

Here comes the doctor.

AGRIPPINA [ _Laughing_ ]

Why do you creep and creep around

as if picking herbs in your little plot?

Would you not like to gird a sword today?

DOCTOR

Ah, ah, the women talk – they seldom think.

Wait, let me reckon: it's bloodstone against bleeding;

here is the wine with cheese and barley pap

for when he's tired ...

Are you aware that this is war?

We're going forth to danger, wounds and death.

Hell stone for boils that come in summer.

The strange suppuration breathed out in this land,

the fertile marshes and herbs that have no name

through which the general wades ... ah no, it's nought:

your little veins run hot with air and misty fog ...

it's words, words: "adventure", "victory",

– damp air, that often has a rancid, sour smell.

_Again fidgets with his parcels_ [30]

AGRIPPINA

Don't act so cross! We, women, we like doctors.

You know astrology: rather tell me now;

about the Quiet Ones and Germanicus?

DOCTOR

I have no need to look at heaven over me:

by his golden hair and his bright forehead I can see

that the Sun when he was born shone through the Scales

and near to Venus, why, his very figure,

his walk, when he comes near, these show that he

– so say the laws of the always Silent Ones

will always keep to justice and to right.

The four great body humours: blood,

and phlegm, yellow and black bile, are so

mixed in him, so balanced equally,

so by his stars were fixed, combining all,

unmoving clarity they granted him ...

AGRIPPINA

But will he be great, mighty and so happy?

DOCTOR

That's something else. The stars don't really speak!

They go their way. It is the blood, the humours

in every body that makes an individual

(as you call it), "happy", "brave" – or "weak" ...

AGRIPPINA

Go play your starlight games! Go dig out herbs.

Your kind must stay a lackey! Know, know ...

you know what _should_ have happened when it's past:

you see "just why", know how the pill was twisted,

but we are those that make and break, uncertainty

we forge to something new, we lead from far in front,

sword galaxies ... and no-one knows where we shall go.

Here, take this mirror, look at your own humours,

watch how they're churned together into porridge

to coagulate to stodge! [ _Germanicus enters_ ] [31]

I need no stars at all to show to me

where power and a glorious future beckons _me_.

GERMANICUS

You're speaking of the stars? Aratus is all done.

Take this and look after it.

He gives the manuscript to the old physician

There's wisdom there, but hidden deep and far,

remote – and we, we are not nearly warm at all.

There's a rule and order to which the stars belong:

the bright, clear singly-plied necessity.

Have you been speaking of your hidden art?

DOCTOR

I wanted to explain what I believe is really so.

Prepare this and that for your campaign

AGRIPPINA

Smiling again; to the Doctor

Forgive me, please, be true to me, old friend.

I speak too soon when I get in that mood.

And go now; run!

GERMANICUS

And thanks for all your care.

The Doctor and Marcia go off.

AGRIPPINA

Are you annoyed that I put myself forward then

when the men were grimly arguing – I, a woman?

and dared to speak where you were in command tonight?

GERMANICUS

I want to keep you proud just as you are;

as women were in former days.

AGRIPPINA

I am a woman and my pride hides fear;

tonight I am all fear.

My thoughts are all of death.

You heard them shout: their clamour was of "rule", [32]

of "Caesar". You know how every sound grows rancid

in our climate. I see you caught up close

in the hunter's net: myrmillo, Caius!

and the retiarius flicks it over you.

Break out of it! Or I see our deathbeds,

one long row: I see my children die:

first one and then another dies, like princes, sombre;

no-one complains or knows why he must die,

each only knows that he must either rule, or die.

GERMANICUS

I knew that it was coming – this call.

For months and months it has been stalking me.

Tonight it's crouched to spring.

I love you dearly.

AGRIPPINA

I love you dearly, dear.

And yet – one thing in you I cannot get to grasp.

Somewhere you're inhuman in your heart.

Whatever way I try to reach, I only touch

this coolly gleaming thing. This quiet rest of yours

tonight – Should you not fear? Yes, this fear,

it's good and human: keep it near your heart.

GERMANICUS

Sit here and listen.

Words sometimes come forth bloody, like a weight

from inside one, as when a child is born.

I shall attempt it.

Livia nursed a hatred for my mother.

No. Not even that.

Do you think I do not fear!

If I were to allow my fear

to thrust one black arm along the lintel of my door

and feel its way, it would rip my whole house apart

and screech along through every room. [33]

I dare not fear. I dare scarce speak of fear.

I see my children every night. I see you.

AGRIPPINA

Sit. Rest and try to find the words you seek.

The heart needs words just as it needs love.

GERMANICUS

I need to grab that power! Do I not have a need to rule!

Do you think that small!

Have I not felt action, victory, honour, power

intoxicate my senses like sweet wine

and not grown thirsty from desire

more than one day!

And yet

there are so many hair-cracks in my will.

AGRIPPINA

You need to grab and give to Rome a ruler

worthy to rule Rome.

That is the pit in which the earth

casts out its filth day by day. Its nobles come

Don't name that name, not even here.

GERMANICUS [ _Tiredly_ ]

from near and far, they seep into our midst,

they take our names.

And yet: if I dare mould!

AGRIPPINA

Goes to the tent opening and folds back the flap

Wide open is the tent. See there, the morning star.

Know this: you are my husband, we two are one.

You will decide. I'll die here with you

Or else I shall rule,

and, humble for you alone,

rule where you rule.

Our legions all surge hence!

You need to rest. For this night was great.

Scene Four

Germany

Germanicus' official tent

One week later

[34]

About a week later. In Germany. An old secretary from the general's headquarters sits writing at a table in Germanicus' official tent. A young officer enters

YOUNG OFFICER [ _Breathlessly_ ]

It's done. Gods! I've never seen the like.

Look at my hands. Sticky-wet with blood.

To hunt like that, hunt people; strike them in the eyes

that beg with shuddering whites, to feel again,

again the sword sink in ... soft and deep and quivering;

and then pluck out – as a blade cuts through your hand;

people fleeing, confused, their weapons cast aside ...

I was a child, when I saw ants act like this

on the metal of a stove: so tiny, so scared, so disarrayed:

one fear, one chasm, one pit of fright

that I shall nightly have to face in horror ...

Pulls himself together

I need to wash before I eat.

To Secretary

You're writing, on this night!

You chase black letters over a piece of paper

and we put sixty thousand men to flight today!

SECRETARY

Without looking up

Wash? You want to wash? There's a jug ... [ _He points_ ]

YOUNG OFFICER [ _Nervously_ ]

Stir up your ancient blood! Drink Spanish fly, rouse yourself!

Caesar won today – a battle

such as these armies never struck before ...

SECRETARY

That's nice,

that's nice.

YOUNG OFFICER

Ye Gods – he goes on writing!

SECRETARY [35]

The little fellow dances –

now he wants us all to skip with him.

Looks up

Listen, my boy: great battles are all very fine –

but my job is to see to it that corn, coins and horses

reach this camp for all these pretty fellows.

Right-ho: it's fine, it's really fine:

they have a say: "white" or "chestnut" or even "pied",

they curse me when a mule is lame, a wagon creaks;

if each brush-head does not get his dole,

then they come buzzing round my ears.

Now they are standing here

and dance and skip – and talk of such great victories

when I have to concentrate,

Tell me – you know it all –

just how many horses we can get from Gaul?

Just a rough estimate?

How was the harvest in Aquitania?

If you must wash – there's water, in the barrel at the door.

[ _Flexes his fingers_ ] My old joints ...

YOUNG OFFICER

Is this wine? [ _Takes a deep draught_ ]

Listen, old horse-trader – about our general today:

when in the early daylight hours we stood before

the battlements of the blonde Cheruscans – the woods, the copses

bristled bright with weapons – we hesitated.

And Germanicus sighted eight eagles

wheeling above us, then heading for the woods.

"Follow our Roman birds as I give chase!

Thrust with your short swords – thrust at their faces!"

– and into the spears we rushed ahead!

SECRETARY

Oh, that's not bad.

It's not bad at all.

YOUNG OFFICER [36]

This afternoon when we broke through

he threw away his helmet and clear-faced

– like a god – he led us on, that everyone,

soldier or foe could know his face ...

his white horse ahead amongst the fleeing hordes!

He cannot die, no weapons can touch him, no!

SECRETARY

The helmet – I trust – you brought along?

Or else I have another job. A new crested helm ...

Notes down something on his paper. Agrippina enters with Marcia

AGRIPPINA

You here! Is he still safe? Has he been wounded?

SECRETARY

How pale she is.

AGRIPPINA

Reckless, was he? Where did you see him last?

YOUNG OFFICER

Germanicus is safe. He's with a legion

which stayed to pile the outworks of the camp

where we shall rest tonight.

AGRIPPINA

And did he win?

You men talk and talk of all these things ...

YOUNG OFFICER

Respectfully I bring you his message:

The armies of Tiberius this day

struck a blow that echoes through the world

and jogs the farthest nations into fright.

AGRIPPINA

That's good.

There's one that will not like this blow: Tiberius –

he that sits in his grey web, Rome, and waits

and draws the earth's waters to him like a moon.

SECRETARY [ _Softly_ ] [37]

Caesar in Rome hears all that is said here.

AGRIPPINA

That's good; quite good. There's much that must be said.

YOUNG OFFICER

Tiberius Augustus once more was proclaimed victor

And imperator by the army in the field

– so was Germanicus' command.

AGRIPPINA

That's good. That's good.

And do you all concur?

YOUNG OFFICER

It was like that: just the general's command.

Here come the officers: Cneius Piso,

Marcus Veranius and their men ...

A vociferous group of officers comes on stage: Cneius Piso, Marcus Veranius and others; some are wounded. Marcus has a bandaged arm; some are so tired that they sit or even lie down.

AN OFFICER

Small, swarthy; interested in the technicalities of war; to Piso

The thrusting sword should be three inches longer

and heavier at its point – for this tough place,

not for those easy fights in Parthia, no ...

I could feel that today – these tall Germans all ...

MARCUS

Burly farmer-type, but tense

Forget it now! Or speak to the scribe over there

and later with the general.

Agrippina,

Herman fared badly with his winnow: the dead,

they're lying spread like chaff ten miles abroad

strewn on the ground: there was a mess today.

Like one chases rabbits from the rye

that's how we chased Herman and his men today, [38]

chased 'em from these endless, endless forests,

where they all hide.

And the waters of the Weser now run sticky-red

with blood

AGRIPPINA

Bravely spoken like a true man, my loyal Marcus,

just as I always hear from you. Noble Piso,

I thank you as Germanicus would thank ...

She walks around among them and shakes each by the hand

I wish that I could thank each and every one

of thousands who helped to make this day so great,

take each brave man by the hand, and thank him.

I have held myself erect before you: now humbled,

a woman, feeling rather sad

that I can in no way share your glory.

Standing next to a young officer

You're bleeding! Come, rest, and let me bind your wound.

Come, Marcia, let us act our kind

and aim for humbler glory than these men.

To serve the brave is higher service still.

OFFICER

You are too kind. It's nothing.

MARCUS

The badly wounded

are being tended well; their pain is greater;

the wounds we carry are slight marks of honour

that we shall show our sons when we are old

and speak of this great day, Germanicus

and you.

CAIUS

I still see him, standing young and glorious,

in sight of all, a target for every bolt,

wherever the fight was thickest – and calm and peaceful

as if he stood among the vines and showed,

instructing men to carry gold and purple grapes [39]

from where they picked to tread them in the vats.

A god it was that aided us today.

FIRST OFFICER

What we saw today, is unfamiliar in Rome:

even the great Julius was never greater nor more wild

In combat ...

ANOTHER OFFICER

Germanicus: he is a broad, great stream

that roars unchecked to glory's greater fame

and the joy of every Roman.

CAIUS

Imbued with divine ecstasy

that gods alone can send, our Rulers in the sky!

His Fortune is unstoppable:

his armies lay buried in the gleaming marshland

of the Batavians, struck down in the black forest ways;

his fleets lay broken on those foreign strands

and dunes, washed up on sombre capes

watched over by birds that no man knows, nesting yet

on dead men's reeking bones, and nightly screeching

– I hear them shrilling in my head – above the foam

and the white rock of Britain, that secret place;

above each downfall he rises stronger:

for sure a god raised him and leads him still!

Germanicus enters with other officers

AGRIPPINA

My husband!

GERMANICUS

It was a day so strong and ... yes, strong,

that it will still shine a hundred years ahead

rising above all other, greyer days,

days of measured quiet and bitter care;

a day for you, that wear farsight and bravery

around you like a gauzy robe.

AGRIPPINA [40]

And it will stay with me through every care.

But now it's a better time to rest.

GERMANICUS

My fellow-soldiers! Brothers through this day.

There is no need for sober talk of thanks,

rewards for sailormen

who brought a bauble back from foreign shores,

men still foreign and unknown to me.

Who have together tasted the sour wine of death

– each one still lonely in his private fears –

leave that meal still drunk, but bound as one.

It's days like these that make blood brotherhood

stronger than the turgid dark red blood

that binds a father's single brood.

And ... of reward, then ...

We all today allied ourselves to serve,

an office that the Empire dare not soon forget,

and each is now a member of my house:

my most exalted officer or humblest trooper,

my sentinel, messenger, carrier of water,

what I have, you all shall share:

our fortune and our luck will stay still linked

in times that lie ahead, by great Caesar's grace.

And ... between brothers ... why should I be ashamed?

Are we not human? Are we not afraid of death?

but daring to attack as each man came on

– with you, dear Piso, with Marcus, always joyful,

Caius, with you, so stern, or with Lucius

who now lies calm and white for all of time

and never now can lose his purity of heart

in days less glorious –

with you and through you I lost my fearful heart

– for I am human – and I grew light and joyful;

and happiness returned ... it was all a game

death, annihilation, disappearance ... only play, [41]

drunk, glorious, carefree and reckless,

as played by friends at table. Nobody, I tell you nobody

brought this day to such glory by himself;

no one man can call this glory only his.

But let us now take our rest.

Many who share in our blood brotherhood

will never more return from their deep rest.

But rest is good, and well deserved today.

The officers, all except Cneius Piso, Marcus Veranius and Caius, leave the tent. Occasionally a letter is brought to Germanicus or a message is whispered in his ear

GERMANICUS

Lucius: he is the lucky one;

so clean-cut, young and now so well assured

against all the spite with which life can strike us

in all our future years, the years ahead ...

And rest is good. Why then do we not rest?

Why do we leap from day to day from act

to act – and one day something occurs, we fall:

all drops from our hands; and the silence

that always was encroaching, seeps into us,

and tames us and calls us all its own ...

PISO

So no Empire is built. One does not rule like that:

with sighs and yearnings. It is our right to rule;

to allow the ones that we have overcome

the joys of quiet and of rest.

GERMANICUS

Perhaps that is how one should rule – should really rule –;

Piso, tell me: if you leap forward to attack

(you're always quiet, surly, have few words)

... do you feel joy? a terrible intoxication,

within you? What thrills you as you strike?

PISO

I am a Roman soldier and officer. [42]

I do my duty as I know it.

GERMANICUS

It's strange that words can form so thick a crust

around the heart. A man who sits fine and quivering

like a little child, he never learns to _live_ ,

somewhere, somewhere. Perhaps it's just as well:

we cannot all go bare ... not all of us; so, Piso?

CAIUS

You're tired, Germanicus, and not yet old –

like me – and tough enough for this dire trade.

MARCUS

Drink mulled wine, heavy-scented, and eat,

eat well, eat meat, and so to sleep.

GERMANICUS

My dear Marcus!

Night's coming on and we shall all eat meat ...

eat meat, drink mulled wine, drink and sleep

on this our glory.

He prepares to enter the inner tent, a Messenger enters

MESSENGER

Segestes, the German,

greets great Germanicus and brings his laud

to you and to Tiberius the emperor,

today, right now.

MARCUS

Segestes, who stayed loyal

through all the wily plots laid by Arminius ...

dear tame old Segestes with his beard,

his father-in-law!

MESSENGER

He's waiting outside with women from his house,

they look anxious, these women ...

GERMANICUS [43]

Tell the soldiers and the guards to show respect!

and bring them in here. [ _Messenger off_ ]

GERMANICUS

Marcus,

you are a Roman: if this day had ended differently,

would you have honoured Herman, tonight?

MARCUS

But it did not! We are still the masters.

GERMANICUS

For these, yes. But Herman still hides free

and bitter, unvanquished in his black woodlands.

It's him I want to see.

PISO

You'll have to haul him out.

He won't volunteer.

Segestes, Thusnelda and women are brought inside.

GERMANICUS

Still addressing Piso

And haul means dragging, Piso?

SEGESTES

Germanicus! Your father won the name

through us, and I can say it without spite:

I am old and far from youthful love of power.

Today you have deserved the name and took it

without inheritance; wear it with honour.

It's a proud name; it suits your high estate.

I do not come here to betray my land,

but to seek peace, that precious gift

that suits my age and peaceful bent.

I honour the imperial power of Rome,

and the Germans that are no nation yet: fierce

and dissolute; turned against themselves and cruel

even to themselves – that German is too young for me,

his day will come long hence with dreadful might,

but when I am long gone, dead and gone. [44]

May I still ask – if a supplicant may seek

the favour of his victor – show to my people

your mercy. You hit us hard today:

no man was spared, no man was captured;

ten thousand hide shivering in the forests;

they seek, so powerless, revenge and sorrow, both

from despair, tonight. But also mercy,

that they do not want. And I, although I'm old,

understand.

The greater gods, the Inscrutables,

grant us defeat or victory, youth and death –

grant it to nations too.

The voice of peace sounds weak and thin

where power and fate lead on. I led them once.

Now I ask: be good to me and to these women,

the daughters of my house. Let us, the weak ones,

that have landed between the two stones

of a grinding mill just now, be granted rest

in the great Empire. Please be very kind to her

especially, the wife of Herman, Thusnelda;

I had to drag her here.

GERMANICUS

[ _To Segestes_ ] Your loyalty to Rome will be rewarded.

[ _To Thusnelda_ ] I should have bidden you a different welcome –

not as supplicant, not as captive, no.

The brave retain their honour, also when held fast,

and I should rather have seen you come with Herman,

with his weapons but in friendship.

THUSNELDA

No friendship can be forged between the likes of us;

you stand astride the world in power

and trample down the nations that are meek

or suffering despair; you even rule the hearts

– a bitter truth, that – of many of my people ...

like this man here that was born free, my father; [45]

and we? We are the wolves that slink around the pen!

at night we howl helplessly around your palisades.

But we are free! We go our ways and wait.

And I would rather come here, dragged and hauled,

than grovel in meek friendship

GERMANICUS

Not bitterness, blind rebellion and vengeful spite

I would reject – as if Roman, German men,

are two beasts that only meet with fang and claw

to try each other out.

THUSNELDA

I don't know you ... perhaps,

perhaps you may be noble:

but noble Romans also bow to serve

to give soft names to horror-deeds,

and after carnage and fell battery to speak.

Your softest words reflect blind might.

You're out to grab, humiliate, keep tight –

first with the sword, then with a word, this friendship;

or maybe friendship first, then demands and then the sword.

So Herman found you out. But he stands free.

Go, fetch him in his lair, he's always there!

He will fight back right into shadowlands

up north, the iron icebergs of the chilly sea

and the long black night that you will never know

– and many legions will be strewn along the way!

But I am here. Drag me to Rome with you,

let me walk in your triumphal march, let them laugh,

those dusky Roman maidens point and say:

"Thusnelda, Herman's bride, the ruddy German girl!"

And then the prison where many have been held

– those too that sought a gentle word from you.

It's might, might, that blind and dull black might

of a great empire.

But listen, the wolves are howling, [46]

those sly lean wolves howl up in the north!

The day will come when borders all are porous,

and then we'll see, but also, so will Rome!

PISO

While even traitors, and the children of deserters

can still speak words like these, there's work aplenty

for Rome and for her general.

SEGESTES

Noble Germanicus, forget these unruly words.

She is a woman, pregnant; let me who have grown old

speak quietly with you, I know men's hearts:

foolhardy and impetuous,

and where they break because they can no more ...

AGRIPPINA

This woman's brave, like Roman women were before.

GERMANICUS

I am as much a prisoner as she.

She speaks the truth:

I too am caught up in the treadmill's wheels ...

the great Empire grinds all around me and breaks,

and does not care a jot for me. I am the force

that works for it at this last outpost,

works for Empire – but it could as well find

other forces, other hands for its dark work,

grind all so many times – also without me.

I'd send her back, to her husband and her people:

such greatness is seldom found on this round earth

but she's a captured trophy of the Caesar, and of Rome,

and both loom dark and mighty over me.

... If I could grasp, would the world seem any different,

and somehow greater?

Agrippina,

Take care of her – as noble must serve noble.

Agrippina goes off with Thusnelda and the women

[ _To Segestes_ ] And you ... tonight we party, if you want [47]

to come, today we celebrate, as we always do,

it is the ruler's right of Rome, the downfall too

of those who rise against her.

[ _To an officer_ ] See to the king.

Segestes off

And now to pleasant things:

Bring here the wine that Marcus hankers for!

The elderly Secretary goes out to fetch it, and appears with it after a few moments; they pour and drink

and, friends, forgive me: I do not want to end this day

so without showing how much I care for you.

For those of us who must grow old,

some lonely days will come that are more bleak

with no part in the honours of this special day:

and bitterness, grudging faces of an unknown foe

Who do not know the love deep hidden in our hearts

– how can we avoid this unless we die?

Let these things become our sign of grace

in cold years ahead:

Takes off his sword and gives it to Piso

Piso – my sword: it's quiet, sharp and true

and keeps its secret counsel in its scabbard;

Take it and wear it and never, ever forget.

To Marcus

Marcus – you take my belt: it's coarse but tough;

let it bind us as if its copper buckle

binds round both bodies in a single loop.

To Caius

Caius, here, take my mantle: it's not soft

like those they wear in Rome; it's kept out the rain

in far worse nights than this; may it

keep our friendship warm against the world –

And think of me.

For Lucius I have nought to give,

He gave his all and made us the poorer [48]

so that tears are now all that we have left to give.

CAIUS

I thank you, as I have to thank you for everything.

But it's too sad, there's something disconcerting ...

it sounds as if you're dying – this handing out.

GERMANICUS [ _Smiling_ ]

Not yet, not yet. There's still a long time before I die.

PISO

There's still long dying-time before we grow weak.

And dying-places abound between these borders:

today is not an end – scarce a halting-place.

GERMANICUS

Also in this your friendship is clairvoyant, Piso.

A messenger enters

MESSENGER

Cneius Calpurnius Piso! A message awaits you

from Rome, from Caesar, I think, at your tent.

PISO

A message from Tiberius Claudius Caesar

to a Calpurnius, Cneius Piso –

and I fear that the Calpurnius will have to go,

this era demands what in former times was different.

Forgive me. [ _Piso off_ ]

MARCUS

Eyes that watch us all, messengers

that come and go – between each great victory

ears that listen nightly at each tent flap;

tablets secretly annotated and hidden safe;

mouths that break open more than all these letters;

they're more secret – and they're safer ...

GERMANICUS

Marcus,

don't think you see ghosts – there're too many sheets.

Caesar ... he takes an interest in his legions.

MARCUS [49]

If one of those pale and thin spies of his,

the "messengers" from Rome, should cross my path,

I should squash him flat like this wine-fly here:

these creature can always sniff, sniff out, where there's wine

– now you see nothing, and moments later if your glass

stands filled, twenty whirl above it;

they seem to breed just there up in the air,

are made of air and mist ...

GERMANICUS

Shall I then have to waylay every messenger,

open letters, hold rags up to the light for scrutiny

and pry to find out what each thinks or writes of me?

listen for what nightly listeners have heard?

Safety cannot be bought at such a price.

Here we speak freely and all who will, may hear.

CAIUS

Then let me speak – right now – of what all of us

think every moment. We pretend we're drunk

and merry, pretend escape and flaunt our safety

as scraps of comfort; but we know well:

a mad beast lies and watches day and night:

Tiberius in his den, he lies and slavers,

but he will never forgive you for this day.

GERMANICUS [ _Deep in thought_ ]

Tiberius is old and suspicious, secretive,

but he's my uncle, adopted me as son,

I watched over his legions faithfully,

erected trophies for him, called out _his_ name.

MARCUS [ _Laughs_ ]

And when the people shout "Tiberius" out loud,

then below that he always hears "Germanicus",

"Germanicus!" ... such beasts keep their ears well cocked

GERMANICUS

Tiberius Caesar will not live for ever.

After him I rule, that was Augustus' will. [50]

CAIUS

There you have said the word that Caesar fears

Caesar and Livia.

MARCUS

That grandma with a beard,

that twists the Empire in her skinny fingers

a tassel for her gown, no less, and peers.

She spins and weaves – she wove Augustus

weird spells into her web and woof –

that now she weaves for you.

The messengers from Rome

shoot back and forth like spindles – just for you!

He sings drunkenly

They're all so meek and humble

They sit at the spindle and weave

But!

Oh ! !

Every small crab and the Moon

Must feel that love so soon

And!

Oh ! !

The rag doll, the rag doll is stirring.

That's what the men sing.

CAIUS

They fear another will inherit first

– their desire too. Where is Agrippa now?

and he was named the heir ...

GERMANICUS

That's just our guess.

CAIUS

And Drusus, he was feared and closely watched –

Tiberius' own son, his firstborn – ambushed,

spied on. It's never safe to be too close to Caesar;

his son was not much different from – his foes.

That is the case when men must wade towards the throne. [51]

Princes die young in that old house, and those

that do get old, get twisted, surly and spiteful.

GERMANICUS

That's true. As if a large visage,

larger than half of heaven looms down over us

and overshadows the clean honour of this day.

– But against that too I must keep straight;

keep myself clean in this filth.

Servant enters with letter that he hands to Germanicus

SERVANT

A messenger from Caesar waits, from Rome.

GERMANICUS

For me? Give here. [ _Agrippina enters_ ]

AGRIPPINA

She is asleep, the beautiful woman is sunk

in heavy dull sleep like one that felt a blow.

To rest like that, is terrible.

GERMANICUS

Caesar calls me back: the people yearn,

so he writes, and he too yearns to see us all

with every glorious victory sign:

an ovation, a second consulate,

and great work in the East, where he – he's old

and sickly, so he writes – needs the youthful powers

of his "son" ... [ _Silence and consternation_ ]

AGRIPPINA

Go! Go to Rome! But in among your legions,

lest this letter be both judgement and sentence!

MARCUS

Nothing's ignoble against a feral beast.

... Again friendly, again treacherous as always:

he's outlawed by his own hatefulness.

Why hesitate? The armies all are yours.

You know what the legions speak of every day.

Listen at every tent, hear next the fires, [52]

hear them as they dig in this land's boggy earth

at every nightly bivouac:

not for the horror that hides at Rome,

– for you, for us, and for themselves they do it!

AGRIPPINA

Forgive me that I speak out among you men:

there is no retreat left here for you.

You know the man –

cold, bitter, quiet. He feels no anger.

Lonely and loveless he held on and on

in those long years when Augustus would not die.

He was a man once: and he loved too;

but when Augustus made him put away his wife

to marry Julia – then something in him died.

I know he's dead. What now rules in Rome,

it is a corpse – no human, a corpse,

a grey despairing body with the power

of bone and muscle – but without blood.

Vipsania,

he could not bear to see her again. I was a child,

he at the window when she passed –

the only time I ever saw him shake and tremble.

But just to rule he allowed himself to die.

Long years of insults he withstood – he's silent;

then honours came, and certainty – he's silent.

He knows death too well for regret or spite.

Keeps his own counsel, and that wicked hag

that handed empire to him, she will die;

his son will die; all that is good in Rome

will all be dead – and his two ancient eyes

will dully watch, as long as he can rule.

How can you go! You have become too great.

CAIUS

And all your officers: Marcus, I, Caecina ...

MARCUS [53]

But what of Piso?

CAIUS

He stays silent, keeps his pride

to himself. The soldiers call him "Black Piso"

"the Dark One", "the gloomy Piso"; he isn't loved.

MARCUS

A small Tiberius!

But if he crosses me, I'll give him silence

– more than he wants – silence; and darkness too ...

that's also to be had ...

CAIUS

I've known him since his youth.

He's embittered and I don't know why.

Perhaps about all his mighty forebears

that raised Rome's ramparts high from our red soil

and held them in their hands – but are no more.

but because of that he dares to do great deeds.

He's brave – but he does not love you, Germanicus.

GERMANICUS

I am not sure – sometimes he looks at me, so ...

I am his friend, let him be what he wants.

His honour's mine, I trust his grave fidelity.

CAIUS

I call on you ...

MARCUS

Dismiss the secretary:

he hears it all, writes all things down ...

GERMANICUS

Yes, _he_ has power. He builds up crumb for crumb

A yellow termite, he; he could strike us all

down in a moment, reporting to Tiberius.

... yet stays my friend, not so, old man? ...

MARCUS

Let's all get drunk. Let's drink great Gaul dry.

It's clearly madness here: it's glorious: [54]

the sacred disease lurks and laughs at us ...

we conspire together on the marketplace, call out:

"Come, listen here! Here's treachery afoot!"

"We're talking secrets!" – it's glorious and great

to be both drunk and crazy when all is mad.

Piso re-enters

CAIUS

It's too late now to act as if it's secret.

I place my life in your hand, Germanicus.

Let me go out and stand before this tent

and shout: Caesar Germanicus Augustus!

Then all your legions will answer

and Rome will be clean again.

MARCUS

And we shall blow across the farthest borders

– three mighty winds unknown before upon the earth –

and everything will bear the name of Rome!

He goes to the tent flap en opens it; calls to the guards

You standing there! Shout and call the men together!

Caesar is to speak!

[ _He shouts outside_ ] Come here, you leathery old veterans!

Come listen up! Who wants to go to Rome?

Great things are now afoot!

Germanicus is Caesar!

GERMANICUS

Still half amused

Marcus, shut up. Stand back. The wine is talking now

MARCUS

Does not hear him; louder

Who is your Caesar? Is it Tiberius?

That drunkard lolling round in Rome?

It's not me that's drunk. You there, say: is it Livia

that old monkey, that leads these legions forth?

Or is it this man [ _points to the inner tent_ ] [55]

who will now speak?

Caius Julius Caesar Germanicus

Augustus Imperator.

GERMANICUS

I speak as your commander now! Stand back.

Stands at the tent flap, addresses those outside

Marcus Veranius is tanked. We're partying tonight.

I, your commander, _am_ a Caesar.

There's wine enough, tonight – enjoy it.

But first make sure our moat and ramparts around

protect our tents properly!

Goes inside, speaks to one of the younger officers

See to it that these troops move

to the other camp, and place guards around.

There are thousands more that wait.

Marcus Veranius, give me your sword.

Germanicus puts it down on a table

It's strange that we, such old friends and brothers

still always speak a different language

with each other. The sacred disease, Marcus,

the sacred disease has taken hold of all of us

for we are men; it rends, it makes us scream and curse;

we are sombre and alone in all we say,

and no-one listens; each seeks a separate good.

I know that I have reached the precipice

I know that I have no power to do what's right

before I take all power as my own.

But the cold wind of Rome has blown to here

– too far it blew – across each foreign nation.

We have a stew here, a cold, grey, slippery broth

of nations, scrambled all together; it lies before us [56]

flat and greasy; like in a pan.

At times a man creates his own commander;

those shining, glorious times

when one man speaks for all men everywhere;

they know him well, and he can help let loose

what they had in them, hidden and tied fast –

then there are times that mankind, all the nations,

go mad with dissent and with factions,

no words, no compromise can heal them then;

where all within them fight against themselves

and blaspheme.

Who would rule then, fights at last against himself.

One man could come to turn them once again to men,

men as of old – he would have to be a god,

or else he'd need to wade through madness,

stumble through injustice, terror, towards right as his goal.

CAIUS

That is your doom. This doom will touch us all.

GERMANICUS

It won't touch you.

The world has poured its filth on us,

And we must see to it ...

think straight: tonight we party;

they are waiting; we cannot neglect our manners,

not even now dare we neglect them. [ _Off, to the inner tent_ ]

MARCUS

Looks around in a daze

Caius: _you_ , and when did _you_ die then?

The Mamertine? Without an axe? With a rope?

I shall not die like that.

Where are your children, Agrippina? Dead?

Why, they were still so soft! [57]

But look, there it grows through your cheek, your lips:

the skull is straining through like the white shoot

of a bean strains to leave the soil! It's coming!

Did they starve you then?

I will not die like that. Rather twice as mutinous:

what was it again?

He took my sword. I'll steal it back again.

Look at old Marcus: committing treachery again.

Tell him that. I will not die like that.

Not like a scrawny cow in the holding pen.

CAIUS

Marcus Veranius! Go, rest, and wait until tomorrow.

MARCUS

Was that my master Germanicus that spoke?

He grabs his sword and runs outside with it; Caius follows; noise outside; Caius returns

CAIUS

We could do nothing. There was nothing we could do.

He struck it home. Mad as he was, it went home.

Turns to the door through which Germanicus left

But him: he's sacred. Nothing can touch him.

AGRIPPINA

Covers her face with her hands

The skull sprouts out of us.

PART II

ROME

Scene Five

Small room in Livia's palace

Some months later

[58]

It's some months later: the day of Germanicus' triumph. Rome: small room in the palace of Livia, the mother of Tiberius. Plancina, wife of Piso, and Livia are alone.

PLANCINA

The streets are crazy today. Singing, shouting,

they push one around: jugglers, slaves ...

LIVIA

Don't talk about it. Help me get up.

I know. I hear and see through this very wall.

My eyes are not too old. I watch the street.

They shout "Germanicus", "the imperator",

"the tall captives", "wild boars", "bears too",

– the whole carnival that goes with triumphs –

the strange new names of its great rivers,

his five fine children on the leading float ...

Tiberius has just one ...

[ _Abruptly_ ] Just see how thick the dust lies: the slaves run amuck,

our whips, they rest too much, in these days ...

why do you sit there saying nothing?

PLANCINA

What I can say

you know yourself, Augusta.

LIVIA

Sits down again; Plancina helps her

Ah, yes, I know.

The one that knows, that's me, it's me, the old woman:

how beggars, butchers, cripples, and senators,

the whole stinking populace left the city,

all came streaming out to the twentieth milestone,

came to meet him—good, I know their names.

Treachery is brewing here; the scum is wild,

but scared. Listen: you're going to Syria. Frightened?

I had your husband recalled by Tiberius, [59]

and he leaves for Syria, as governor,

together with Germanicus ... ha, ha, not always fun

when the man comes home again, huh, Plancina?

But you do love me, and _you_ ... it's you

that's sent to Syria. I'll say more later on.

Today I have brought you a wonderful gift.

PLANCINA

You are too good, Augusta.

LIVIA

You all think she's old,

and done for, the old bag. She's still strong enough,

to all those she loves, she give a lot.

Tiberius I made to rule alongside of me.

I'll keep him there.

But next to us there's still place for our good friends.

PLANCINA

There's nothing ... there's no danger that I would not

take on willingly for you – just name it please;

and your strong friendship ....

LIVIA

Always in a hurry!

Wait. Wait. You'll have to learn to _wait_.

What was it now? What was it I had to say?

My dear woman, why do you just sit and sit,

just saying nothing? You're scared of this old woman!

I want to say this; _she's_ the one, Agrippina—

she'll be the toughest nut. Germanicus ...

he's scared; why else does he not strike _today_?

PLANCINA

They say she's pretty tatty, her pride and all ...

those long years in tents and in the field.

LIVIA

You'll see her too: that's one of your presents

I want to give today. [ _Shouting outside_ ]

Just hear them shouting. [60]

Gets up. A servant enters and whispers to her.

Let one of his old cripples limp past here,

and they all shout. It's seeping, seeping still,

that boil "Germanicus", and we grow hot.

What was it now? I'll show us something beautiful:

that red-haired German miss herself, Thusnelda!

PLANCINA

Thusnelda! I saw her in the triumph, thin

and pathetic, with her son.

LIVIA

They say she's fierce.

I like them fierce. I want to see them fierce and wild;

not always fawning like these dogs in Rome.

Wait, wait. Here it comes.

[ _Sits down in her chair_ ] Now I am again Augusta.

I commanded that she be brought before me.

Thusnelda enters, accompanied by an officer and guards. Livia looks at her long and curiously

Ah, so, so, white and red, yes, milk and blood ...

Still very young. Nice and soft. Not old and bony

like Livia, the she-wolf of the Caesars.

Not swarthy and small like me.

[ _Points to herself_ ] This is a ruler!

Does she savvy?

OFFICER

She speaks Latin

LIVIA

Tame, is she?

And taller than our women ... Stand, Plancina,

and be measured!

Plancina obeys, uncomfortably subservient

Do your men like you to be so tall?

To Officer

You say she speaks. And why do I hear nothing!

How do you like my city? It's much grander [61]

than a reed-thatched shanty in a gloomy wood?

Or do they have houses?

You sneer, I see. I guess you hate us too.

But know this well: to hate will not help you.

Nothing helps against us. Just learn to grovel now.

THUSNELDA

I am no longer human. I am all hate.

One solid piece of rancid, stone blind hatred.

This you do to us, you shrink all life to this,

you make it narrow, one dark dungeon: hate,

and struggle, breaking-out,

We do not want to hate forever: we are human:

we want to love, have children, care for them ...

LIVIA

Cackling with amusement

Good! She can speak! And who will give you progeny?

I can send a slave to help you on your way

if you feel the urge. Good! A child, she says ...

they all want that, these long slim soft ones.

Well, I can give them that.

THUSNELDA

Astonished, upset

Does hatred do this

to one who was a woman.

Approaches Livia; the apprehensive guards move forward quietly

Are you not afraid?

Hatred bears hatred: with ten, with a hundred children ...

all around you, in your city, no, in your home,

with your own people, hatred looms over you...

have you no fear that it will grab hold of you

and of your house and strangle you?

With you just one is free, impetuous

and half demented from that poison-power,

all others slaves that hate him still.

_Points at Plancina_ [62]

You humbled that woman ... she has bent low:

perhaps she doesn't yet recognise her hate,

but everyone that bends, grows gangrenous

and spreads the sickness.

With us no man would dare to trample thus

upon a freeborn woman ... do you not fear ...

LIVIA [ _Laughs_ ]

If we had known such fears, how could we have ruled as Caesars?

I handle fear as you would thread a needle.

Points at Plancina and an Officer

If I tell him to kill her, then he would do it.

He's afraid.

If I tell her to kill him, then she would do it.

She's afraid.

But I am above all this fear, I rest

my foot upon it as if it were the floor.

THUSNELDA

Begins calmly, then more heatedly

And I have delved deeper than all fear,

and mole around under your chill paving-stone.

Threaten me with death – see whether I take fright.

Threaten to mutilate my child, tear him to pieces.

make me stand by and see if my cheek grows pale!

We, all that are powerless, lie far below

that fear ... see if your torture-chambers can

terrify or make me tame.

It is no future happening,

as I thought before ... your Empire has fallen down,

lies all before me, powerless, without fright.

LIVIA [ _Smiles_ ]

Perhaps it's only in the way one looks:

for I, I think, live, peaceful and happy

in this Empire with this fixed power of ours

on earth – which will stay fixed when you are gone.

_Agrippina enters_ [63]

Welcome, my child, it's a great day for you.

I had you brought here to render you my praise

with that of Rome and all its populace,

even though you all have forgotten your old gran.

I wish you great joy in the love of all the people

and success in all your years. They love you so,

your husband and children; the house of Caesar

grows stronger through this love and loyalty.

And look: before me stands the proudest token

of all your victories in Germany.

But listen, though: you must bring them _better tamed_ ,

lest the work seem so ... incomplete ...

AGRIPPINA

I thank you. This woman has suffered much.

She's noble, lonely; in her spirit broken down,

for days she utters not a word.

LIVIA

She's learned to speak again,

believe me, and her spirit was made whole

perhaps from being here with Livia.

She has no fear, for I am old and small

and I do not scare her like Agrippina,

the commander's wife, possibly.

[ _Abruptly fierce_ ] I must _see_ her, naked, see the breasts

those hips and thighs, those beauties

so beloved by enemies of Rome.

Consternation in all

THUSNELDA

To Agrippina

You were still kind. Save me from this thing,

this horror that says it was a woman ...

send me to the dungeon now with my child ...

please let me die ... just die ... let everything just end,

let all turn black, to black and gloomy rest ...

LIVIA [64]

Ah, ah, so it's not ended yet. You're scared! And you

swore just now that you're below all fear.

AGRIPPINA

Augusta, let her go, please, I ask you now;

today was very hard for her.

LIVIA

Beware, my child,

your husband clearly likes these proud

and arrogant women. He is young.

AGRIPPINA

Livia,

you go too far. I too am of the Caesars,

of that blood. There's honour too high for you

to take in your mouth and swill around

behind your ancient teeth: Germanicus,

and I – and this woman too.

We are not like those that kneel here in Rome.

Just take me now – and run out in the streets,

stand in the market and call all the men together

and say: "I have taken into custody

Agrippina, on this day, Germanicus' day,

took her ... for base rebellion";

say: "She is chaste", say: "She has sons, Romans,

young Caesars for th'Empire"; and shout, shout it loud:

"She knows danger, armies and battlefields;

she does not sit and plot; she has no guile;

she does not stain your honour with poisoned death

and adultery ..."

the highest houses of the Palatine

will burst in flames as you speak, the temples burn ...

LIVIA [ _Calmly_ ]

Ah, so, so, you're talking to my armies?

Far different from the sweet docility you showed before.

AGRIPPINA [65]

More calmly, but furious

Just ask Tiberius Caesar, he who rules,

whether he wants to humble this woman before you

and bring me low like her ... and whether his armies

are now yours.

LIVIA

Tiberius? I shall show you all ... undress her!

I must see her, I must show her to you all.

You mock my old body. You laugh in secret

about these breasts that could not suckle a child

for the great Octavian. You know I was so hungry,

you know I was on heat like a wild animal.

You laugh. Pull off. I must see her now!

OFFICER

Caesar gave command that she be watched,

but strictly said no harm should come to her.

LIVIA

You? Do you refuse?

OFFICER

I have the command of Caesar.

LIVIA

Politics again, as always, sly, with plots –

my jackal-child that trots behind his mother Livia ...

See if my hands can still act for themselves

in Rome where I am ruler. [ _She tries to do it herself_ ]

THUSNELDA

Please let me just die.

AGRIPPINA

Stands between Livia and Thusnelda

So old, and yet so evil and poisonous.

LIVIA

Suddenly pulls herself together

Take away the woman.

He wants to bring me low.

[ _To Officer_ ] You're nothing. [66]

[ _To Agrippina_ ] And you're nothing. I could have swept you away,

so, but behind you there sits one

Officer off, leading Thusnelda

sitting behind it all, and glaring forth:

that child of mine, Tiberius; the one that hates me,

hates, hates. He wants to grab the inheritance

that should be mine, Empire, and power, and rule,

– Augustus left the rule to us, us two

alone; nothing to me, my hunger left

as always. Was I not torn with hunger

– hunger even for his stick-like love? Listen!

don't hide here now and fear that later he

will wreak revenge because your ears were forced

to hear the filth the great Caesars wrought ...

Takes up a little box

see here this letter, Augustus wrote it, see,

Rereads it to herself

his judgement of Tiberius already formed,

he pities the Empire for its dull sour new ruler ...

[ _Reads_ ] "He'll chew up the Roman people slowly."

This I shall read, read it in the market place

and shout out to his senate: "So Augustus sees him ..."

To Agrippina

What did you say? This I shall read and shout!

I'll show them all who is the ruler now

who strips my honour, all my titles strips away

and _me_ , Augusta, ... help me again, Plancina ...

To Agrippina

You think I fear? I am too old, too near

to dying.

But ere I die, all will be cloven open

down to the cellar reaches of all time

when he still needed a mother to help him grow.

Go! Go! Why prick your ears?

AGRIPPINA [67]

I've seen enough of all your toothless hate;

and now think less of all your quiet champions,

your motherly care for Caesar.

I have the loving care of my own husband

and of the armies that love us both. [ _Agrippina off_ ]

LIVIA

Alone with Plancina

Ah, you seem pale. Don't you know me yet?

You slink watchfully among the Caesars, but

you still don't know their ways.

Do you think that I, even in my anger,

forgot that _she_ was hearing what I said?

You don't know us at all. She'll sit back now

be less afraid, forget to take care where she treads.

Tiberius ... he hates and tramples me

– quietly careful, yes, when no-one looks,

and courteous – and he offends me, offends me

as if I'm just a female, of the human race.

But he's my son – then I still could love,

and I screamed, thought I should die, when he

was born. And many nights since then

I wept over him. And I used guile and murder

to clear a path for this quiet, bitter man,

for him to rule. There's where he will stay – my son.

What was it now? ... [ _Silence_ ]

You're going to Syria, you and ... Germanicus.

there may be great work for Empire in the East.

One man will help you, a man that he trusts well:

an old decrepit doctor – he's old like me

and sly [ _She cackles again_ ]

just like me. He left my house

with Drusus and Germanicus on campaign,

but not his stars nor all his fragrant herbs

could raise him up, yet he stayed true to me,

dog-like, he watches well, and barks for me [68]

to tell me things. He'll be your aid ...

but let us think. Time will teach you to decide ...

to be a hand for your weak old sickly friend

if she should need your help.

Scene Six

Palace of Tiberius

A few days later

[69]

Early morning a few days later, Palace of Tiberius, small work room next to his bedroom. A guard, one of Tiberius' trusted soldiers who campaigned with him, sits on a stool near the door. A nightlight is still burning. Tiberius' elderly Secretary, a freedman, enters.

SECRETARY [ _Fairly loudly_ ]

Is Caesar awake?

GUARD

He hardly slept last night.

Last evening he was very quiet – and restlessly drunk

as seldom before. Smell at the door, smell there.

I heard things crash and break last night.

It stinks of vintage: old dry soldier's wine.

and cheap – bought by the jar ...

SECRETARY

Ten jars I had carried in last night.

There was talk of Livia and her rages.

GUARD

I heard him all night through: slop, slop, shuffling

up and down, a moment's rest, then walking round again,

this eternal pacing, and on every hour he came, white

and dreadful, to the door to look at me –

And neither spoke. Now, I think, he has to rest.

SECRETARY

I wish he'd take up with a woman – even several.

GUARD

Could he be scared? He was a great soldier then.

SECRETARY

Not of death nor ambushes! Who knows his heart?

Such loneliness is close to true madness

or has become madness.

Puts papers down on the table, one at a time, still scanning them.

Here is his day's agenda: [70]

sentencing; his judges pronounce the verdict,

he writes their deaths.

[ _Looks at a document_ ] The cross is for those slaves

that dared to rebel down in Campania ...

it's bad; I know some of these names ...

Another document: pleased

the list of all the knights, some senators

that dared to plot with the false Agrippa –

that slave who claimed to be Agrippa,

the grandson of Augustus, landed in Ostia

in secret, all brimming with plans and treachery ...

If you just knew the names I'm reading here!

Yes, of the high, and higher, highest ranks.

That's good, the gallows, Tiberius and I

we curl our fingers round the finest throats.

Short silence

But he was tough, this slave, we had to oil him

– you know, the nicest oiling – to get him to speak out:

and then, then he spoke the names so sweetly

to his dear friend ... and here, here they are now

awaiting Caesar ...

Germanicus's coming now.

– He had him called – and Cneius Piso later.

GUARD

There's one here now.

SECRETARY [ _Calmly_ ]

Here they have to learn to wait!

GUARD

I fear the general: he is young, the people

They love him ...

SECRETARY

There's been much treacherous whispering.

The Guard wants to go off

Let him cool his heels; he's young, hot-headed. [71]

GUARD

They say he's mournful: even a triumph

and all the city's adulation don't cheer him up.

The deaths of a certain Lucius and a Marcus

his most intimate ...

SECRETARY

Ah, yes: a death and – suicide!

And behind each we have a little story

that I know and Tiberius knows ... yes, I do [ _Guard off_ ]

And what's his great hurry? ...

The Guard returns with Germanicus. The Secretary, who had sat down at the table, gets up, goes through the inner door and returns after a while. All wait without speaking. Tiberius enters, a large, heavy dark man, and sits down. He speaks slowly, but mostly in a business-like, courteous manner

TIBERIUS

Now the games are done, my boy, and now the weight

of all the world descends on us, the Caesars,

as on every arid day.

[ _To Secretary and Guard_ ] You wait outside. [ _They go off_ ]

We Caesars must speak first, alone and grim,

like lions growling over prey – not so, Germanicus,

that's what Livia would say –

We captured the whole world: it lies and bleeds,

and the imperial predators tear and dole

out pieces bit by bit. You like images ...

GERMANICUS

You're speaking of people, Caesar

TIBERIUS

Speaking of people? I was speaking just of prey.

[ _More vehemently_ ] No, rather a marshland where we fall around,

I speak of rancid mud that wells up from the earth

bubbling from a hundred holes and cracks

And where we – you and I – splash in the muck: [72]

close up one hole, it spouts out from another

twenty more; you get the blond Germans pacified,

then the dusky East bubbles and boils over,

or Africa or Spain with its steep cliffs.

Suddenly calm

Just listen, they say you're clever, I want to ask:

did any one of your six victories up North

bring peace or loyalty in Germany?

GERMANICUS

I don't believe they did.

TIBERIUS

So you do have some sense.

That very place will see us fall and splash and stumble

deeper into much more filth – till we sink

and the great waters wash slowly over us.

He laughs. Goes into his chamber and returns after a moment. Speaks as if overwhelmed

What was it now ... (that's what my mother would say)

but before we go under, there still is work,

great work in the East.

[ _Suddenly sober_ ] Armenia must get a king

from our hands, that's what they ask – you know, the Caesars

make others king, never themselves. Then there's

Parthia, Cilicia ... and the Commagenes, they want

to creep in under our tired old imperial wings

and must be organised; and Cappadocia,

Syria and Judea want the Law

– that lean Law that you know – from us, from Rome.

So you must go, for I am old, and stink

in the nostrils of humanity, not so? You go

like the great Agrippa of old: co-regent

Caesar's own son and Caesar to all kings

to bring them law and order, clear and clean

– after your own heart, not cruel, semi-criminal

the kind that I, the dusky beast, the old Tiberius, [73]

must dole out here day by day.

GERMANICUS

Caesar, I came here to you not on command,

not to gain more might and honour, no,

but to lay my rank and titles in your hand,

lay them down and ask: Allow me please to rest.

Tiberius goes to his chamber and returns with a flask of wine

TIBERIUS

Do you want wine, or do you want to stay sober?

Just listen:

Where all are drunk, to stay stone sober still ...

there lies the madness. To be pure, my Germanicus,

– the husband of one woman, in the beastliness

of this vile city, where day and night the streets

bring on a salver the body's every vicious lust

– it becomes the night where heart and brain both fornicate.

I'm warning you, my boy.

GERMANICUS

Why can't you hear!

I see confusion, simple, without end,

inhumanity and hate and violence

that arcs across all that is here. I ask you here:

take away from me the heavy load of have-to-rule.

I lay my general's mantle at your feet

please let me just be man ...

TIBERIUS

Looking ahead sombrely

You struggle with the a-b-z, can't yet

spell easily that short syllable "man".

GERMANICUS

Caesar, we have never talked of this before;

I still must speak of all the bitter things

that pulse here in my throat and make me hate

high empire, the great edifice of our race.

I shudder, fear that it will grasp me too [74]

and change my soul ... to less ... Caesar, I beg you:

allow me to live alone, sent to an island

small and forsaken in the wide, wide sea,

Chios or Corfu with its vineyards, yes,

where you will kindly let me live a man;

or a white hamlet on our farthest quiet coast ...

TIBERIUS

I thought you would say that. I think of you

and care for you – far more than you may know ...

Goes through the doorway and returns immediately. Threateningly

and I see to it that the nations of this vile Empire

enjoy a bitter kind of half-life

rather that than nothing, than dusky death

in endless warring, town with town.

GERMANICUS

I don't know what your care, Caesar, entails ...

TIBERIUS [ _Fiercely_ ]

And you want rest? Rest? The Caesars cannot rest.

Around you th'Empire would swell up

and infect all, even if you stayed pure.

Because you are beloved, you cannot rest:

you would be the reproach of Caesar's filthy hands

in all men's eyes, all outbursts, every dream

and foolish human quirk would cake round you;

you would be sought and named by every lout,

to use your unsullied hands to grasp what they

filthily desire, and the Empire would tear

once more bogged down in bloody battles, die ...

because one that was so high, would stay _pure_.

Gets up angrily

This I won't allow. We are tied down

by Fate in the stinking sewer of this Empire

and the filth of our era washes over all of us.

I shall show you ...

[ _Goes to the door and calls_ ] Let him come in now! [75]

The slave, Clemens – the "fake Agrippa" – is brought in by the Torturer. He is limp, mutilated. His eyes have been gouged out. Bandages over his face

Do you know this man?

GERMANICUS

That I do not.

TIBERIUS

Look well.

He does not look good. He's been in cruel hands.

He had to speak to Caesar and was so bashful

that he had no tongue: he needed us to help.

GERMANICUS

This is terrible. Can a human descend to this?

TIBERIUS

You don't think it's Agrippa Postumus,

the last grandchild of the great Augustus,

the youngest brother of your wife, the son of Julia?

Look hard. You too will still be Caesar.

GERMANICUS

This isn't he, no.

TIBERIUS

Agrippa died, oh yes. He could not rule.

This is his slave, that Clemens who long since

began secretly to plot in Ostia, work against us.

His first plan was to save the lascivious young Caesar

to live and rule, mad as he was, in Rome

as only heir and grandson of Augustus;

and – when this Caesar died – his own madness grew

so great that he, the slave, this Clemens, began

to vaunt himself, pretender, as his own master:

quietly, in dark of night, he gathered round

malcontents to rally to his cause – from this house,

from high and noble houses in our Rome –

all those that hate me, also those that would be "pure"

and would not bow before the domination [76]

of the black beast, Tiberius.

Turns to Clemens

And this thing would be Caesar!

Or, more probably, all men would be Caesar.

To the Torturer

Did you speak to him, my friend, this very night –

the way you do – and could he then talk back?

TORTURER

Caesar, not a word! I tried the scalding pincers

the water and the iron pens and all,

and boiling oil: no word, not one filthy word!

Forgive me, Caesar, and please don't punish me!

This thing plays dumb. He is too tough for me.

Just, when his feet were dipped in boiling oil,

when he cried out, I could almost make out names –

these have been written down, the scribe did that.

Forgive me, Caesar.

TIBERIUS

Picks up the paper from the table

I know these names. And more than's written here.

But he is strong.

He could have been a servant to Tiberius.

[ _Laughing_ ] Tell me, Clemens – and now don't speak to Caesar,

but as a tough man would to a tough old scoundrel –

how could you turn into Agrippa so ... so quietly?

CLEMENS

As quietly as you turned into Caesar.

TIBERIUS

Touché!

If you want truth in Rome, you must ask villains:

The nobles all say what Caesar wants them to.

GERMANICUS

Caesar, please make an end. Let the man die.

In such misery death will now be merciful.

CLEMENS [77]

Someone's speaking here of mercy, I don't know who,

and he sounds more than kind, but he sounds Roman.

I won't have your pity! I spit it out,

I vomit it back onto your clothes.

Torturer tries to drag him out

TIBERIUS

No. Wait.

CLEMENS

I have reached the utter limit of all pain,

you can't do more, then I shall die and it is over.

Death does not mean mercy, nor is rest from pain

a sign of mercy; your power has reached its utmost

with me, and I lie still as in a womb

cradled in dusky blood, I lie and think.

With my two darkened eyes I see you all:

you, Caesar, will drive madness and all fear

from deed to deed till you have no-one left,

abhorrent to yourself, and you will wish

to be like me, long stilled; and you, the man

who here speaks of mercy – you are young,

it seems to me – probably you don't know blood;

you can cherish the luxury of your pity

in the rich chamber where you live artistically

and think of bright beauty's joys, and call

your slaves to bring your food, to read a book,

to make music in your small cosy corner

of this bloodstained, enormous Empire;

if you want to pity, go out, and see

in the slave-sties where we lie stabled,

beast tied to beast, filthy, disgusting, full of hate;

go to your borders where your own people die,

where death takes all, where all that's free, will die,

where Rome's long shiny scythe mows all:

for Caesar, honour, and slaves for you, and riches

where you can lie softly, and cherish your bloodless [78]

pity endlessly, you chuck it away on me ...

TIBERIUS [ _Laughs_ ]

Just see the dust fly up! You're not shooting straight,

my Clemens, you're thinking thoughts that won't move mountains;

now you may prophecy!

CLEMENS

It's fear, Caesar, it's fear

making you say those words: that these very eyes

dead as they are, still see more than the truth ...

[ _To Germanicus_ ] and you – because you were close to Caesar now,

you will die young; he has the lupus, the wolf-disease,

it does not kill him, no, but all will die

that come near him. And before you die, just listen:

take this message with you – if Caesar allows

you to leave this house of doom – take this

to him that we all loved, to Germanicus.

I saw him once, from very far away

in the house of that brute Agrippa; he was young,

yes young as you seem young; he was so mild,

polite even to slaves, friendly, courteous.

I heard him speak of justice and freedom.

I poured his wine and he was very merry;

but suddenly I was _free_ : and I could feel

here was a master, leader for the world,

here I could follow and no longer feel enslaved.

I thought that he would be our next Caesar,

would renew Rome and with it all the earth,

clean and glorious – I would become human too

Tiberius bursts out laughing

and Caesar, when I conspired against you,

then I said: "Tomorrow he will come ...

Germanicus", then I would kneel before him

and say: "This is your Empire, you lead us all!"

But he ... he swills with them from the selfsame trough.

You take this message: say: "The world, it hates him [79]

and thinks he's small".

TIBERIUS

Enough. Take him away now

and silence him. [ _Clemens is dragged out_ ]

CLEMENS

Your Empire, o Caesar, is dying!

and we, the slaves, infect it secretly ...

TIBERIUS

[ _To Germanicus, quietly_ ] And you want rest.

Looks at the paper

Here are so many names.

Tears up the paper

Tomorrow they will all cringe before me

and be so friendly.

"Rule" is a joyless word,

and this is what it means: love killing, love –

the least thing that will suit your aim, and know –

know well and always know – : these people are dumb brutes.

You wanted rest. We, Caesars, walk a road

that has no turning back, no stopping and no rest.

The whip cracks over all, Caesars, slaves,

and I, Germanicus, I have no other choice:

I've learned to love the whip, I've been worn down.

Leans forward over the table

GERMANICUS

The whole world's cares've fallen upon you.

I pity you, Caesar, in your strength and power.

TIBERIUS

Do you know "loneliness"?

My nights are terrible. And the moon

threads a slim loop through my brain ...

He sinks to the ground from his chair

and every day is black, and all is lonely.

Do you know that? The days, the nights, the years,

the streets are empty, Rome is empty, the earth, [80]

my own hands are black and lonely in front of me

where I touch. Now they can walk on me. I lie prostrate.

GERMANICUS

My father and my friend. [ _Helps him up_ ]

TIBERIUS

You want to rest. And Caesar has his work.

Takes up the papers

This work is for the vulture, for Tiberius, I see;

not work for hands that must stay pure.

Shows Germanicus a document

The slaves of a Silius rebelled against him.

He was a beast to them; and they were beast-like

back at him, but he was master and a Roman.

If I sign here, then a hundred will be crucified.

Read this and weigh:

strong brave men who could no longer bear

to be enslaved, will feel the wind and sun

as they hang on their crosses along the Appian Way

and they'll die slowly, racked with pain and hate,

but powerless in our hands.

GERMANICUS

The cross is dreadful; and people suffer so.

I am a soldier, blood is not unknown to me,

but my bloodstained trade has its own meaning:

I fought to spread wide the Imperial peace,

to make it greater still, cause it to pour out

blessings over the whole round earth.

But this empire and this blessed peace

rest on foundations made of clay,

the clay of hatred, bitterness of peoples, slaves.

TIBERIUS

If you were truly honest, you would not have fought.

GERMANICUS [ _Hotly_ ]

That's true. I have been weak. Yet I must speak out

and Caesar listen. I shape the words: they're vague [81]

just like my thoughts, but through me speaks humanity,

the voice of those who have no other power

than words. You sit above all earthly powers,

more than a man may ask you have been given.

Grasp this chance once, break this stilted mould,

kneed, kneed the great Empire with its nations

and make them men again, break down this fear

that makes each stumble in its shackling ties;

then no man need listen, spy, snoop and tattle;

break the old hatred ...

TIBERIUS

To fight must be much easier than to think.

GERMANICUS

these slaves here,

they're people, Caesar, brave and simple;

thousands like these I had to bring to Rome.

What do we turn them into? grant order, rest,

a pattern to the space that borders all humanity.

Is there no other way, must we just kill

until they seize us by the throat? and then

answer hate with death, bring terror to the terrified?

beat till they stagger, beat down those that stagger?

circle round in a bloodstained rink, round

and round; humanity dissolved: in us, in them –

we with our pride, yes, they with their hate ...

TIBERIUS

He thinks a ruler of Empire lies still,

a nucleus, glorious, imperturbable:

his stillness unmoved by all activity.

You saw me crawling darkly on the ground.

You see me here, half-mad, terrible.

He has no idea of what I say. I don't know you.

Fiercely

This is what to rule becomes, so blind, so pitiless!

GERMANICUS

You do not listen. I call in vain – you're deaf. [82]

To serve was my ideal. That task you should have given me.

To rule is not for me. I cannot ask, Caesar:

"Bring back their freedom" – that we have lost;

our freedom was cruel, reckless toward underlings;

but I reach out, I'm not sure how, to a clarity,

to a greatness that the Empire can achieve,

and you, you can do this. I can serve you.

TIBERIUS

What I should say and what I should not say

and how this should be said, that I don't know.

[ _Suddenly sober_ ] You put it very well:

"The cold wind of Rome has blown at will

– too far – across the thick, white, slippery broth

of each strange nation, stewing in a pan ..."

GERMANICUS

My very words! Spoken in my tent,

in Germany, secretly, to friends alone ...

so the spies of Empire must listen, Caesar;

so they must listen where hate and fear rule

as one household.

TIBERIUS

Back to the letters of your plain ABC!

Our Empire speaks and while it speaks, it listens.

You are its voice, my boy, I am its ear,

and between us two it screams, confused and frightened

in a dazed dementia against itself ...

You speak of a "beast", "a swarthy animal in its lair" –

but Caesar is its head, and you're the claw!

You, me, and the Romans – beauties, riffraff –

our fat senate, our lean black legions,

our slaves and the nations teeming here

in this pauper's peace – it's all one.

Each simply does his job: yours, clean; mine, foul ...

_He snatches up the paper and signs it_ [83]

Humanity is dull and wild; cruelty and violence

must keep it at bay.

GERMANICUS

Please don't sign now, Caesar!

Should you dare? You're drunk, and wild, you snatch

with hands that aren't yours, at people,

Such murder rises from a madness, madness now ...

TIBERIUS

It's glorious, oh, it washes round these hands of mine;

I am a god, I can take them up to mould,

just as I wish, to die or live so happily ...

more, more than human, holy, untouchable ...

More soberly

You are revolted. Your talk's all of "humanity;"

you shudder at facts about the sombre seeds

of true humanity.

Listen: its cruelty and its lust, they are one;

and pain and lust, also one; they copulate

more horribly and more gloriously than you think.

You're young; the nation shouts, thinks you're its pet.

Were you to rule as those men in Germany

would have it, – then "clarity" would be your aim,

so you think now ... Humanity craves for the dark,

locked in its blood, pain-wracked, with urges;

and searching deep for new griefs, too frightful,

each for himself, so many in stark contrast

with the few quiet pure ones such as you ...

[ _Speaking as if from the depths of his soul_ ]

why name the words that control our lives ...

Osiris is a secret god ...

I rule

in Rome, where there is "silence", in Clemens'

words ... for you the broad reaches of our East,

of our dear world, for me the kernel, pip,

an almond that shares its bitterness and poison.

I know you have accepted it. [84]

GERMANICUS [Tiredly]

I have accepted it.

I take it as I have accepted death

and all that's human, as I accept

my heart, which is doomed one day to stop.

Tiberius partly slumps forward over the table and remains leaning on one arm

One thing more, Caesar: Piso's the governor

in Syria; is he your watchdog then?

He waits, no answer

My friend, Silanus, was dismissed, called back:

Piso, he follows him – or keeps track of me.

I get these warnings, often; there're messengers and letters

sent on to Piso in my camp.

Caesar! Caesar!

So the ruler of the world hangs in his web

at the quiet centre of his Empire, and rules.

Off. Tiberius sits unmoving. The Secretary enters, whispers something to him, touches his arm

TIBERIUS

No! Say I am ill. Say I am drunk.

I don't want her here; not right before my eyes.

Tell her I'm lying like the other day

mumbling rot. Just make her go.

Livia, with Plancina following, enters the room hurriedly

LIVIA

Please don't send him. Let me talk to him ...

SECRETARY

Caesar, it's not my fault, I couldn't help ...

TIBERIUS

What right? where do you get the right? How did you ...

pass through the guards I posted?

LIVIA

Don't send him, please! I beg you! It's dangerous.

TIBERIUS [85]

Grabs her shoulder, shouts loudly

Quiet! How did you pass by my guards?

Tell me, how did you pass by my guards?

What new plots are here? Why weave them all round me?

LIVIA [ _frightened_ ]

Forgive me. I had so many fears for you.

TIBERIUS

To Secretary

Go, and find out who all were in the guard,

each one, right up to the door; imprison them!

And post new guards, ones you know well.

[ _Softly_ ] And call the torturer. I must know all.

Secretary off

Sits down; addresses Livia, more calmly, but bitterly

Pull yourself together and speak intelligibly.

I send such thousands out into the world:

who – do you think – must I not send out now?

LIVIA

Calpurnius Piso! He's the hand, the tendon

of conspiracy. She, here, has just found out,

his wife. Each night they meet him at his house,

secretly, but all are names well-known to me.

I watch out for you. I commanded her to listen well.

They want the stupid young Caesar to lead

the treachery, to drive us out and re-install

what they call freedom – the republic.

TIBERIUS

Approaches Plancina, takes her under the chin and raises her head

Ah, so. This is the new kind of Roman woman

that loves Caesar more than her own man!

[ _To Livia_ ] So much they now love us – you speak

of "us" – love the red Caesars, mother, dear,

that women turn against their men. Parents will

rage against their children and for imperial gain

children will turn against parents. And slowly [86]

– we, old Romans – turn into humankind.

You don't hear well ... or bring your news too slowly.

Looks at her intently

Why then so slowly, Livia? Why only now?

I've known long since.

LIVIA

And still you dare to send them?

together they go East: the gold, the grain,

the great legions, all the soft nations

of our East given in their hands –

you say: Here are our Caesar-throats, exposed

bent back for slaughter.

The rabble must just hear

of Agrippina, of Germanicus,

then their thoughts revive Agrippa and great Drusus

and they shout treason and revolt against Tiberius

and against Livia. You dare not do it, you don't dare!

TIBERIUS

You talk so much of "us", of "us" that rule.

Perhaps I want to see how they work loose a brick

and pull it out to make the whole wobbling edifice

come crashing down on "our" four ears.

LIVIA

Desperate

Please do not send them! Listen to me and don't.

Just grab those two now and kill them quietly.

TIBERIUS

Takes another draught

You were the first to mention Piso then,

that first time ...

LIVIA

Tiberius, please don't drink,

don't creep down deeper in dementia

and hide your heart from me ...

TIBERIUS [87]

Was it not you

that first demanded Cneius Piso be sent there?

Your plans always lie in ferment, bubbling up.

I don't know them. I don't know them ...

And ... and – let her hear it from me! –

how many lives were taken by your hand?

LIVIA

All just for you! For you I did it all.

I let my hands wallow in the filth,

more filth than any woman should;

I steeled myself to cruelty

and ruined all my latter days.

What thanks do I get? You're cold, inhuman,

more inhuman yet than I, for ...

Visibly upset

for to me

that am frightful myself, you are too frightful ...

TIBERIUS [ _Smiling_ ]

You are so old ... otherwise I should have made

a plan, brought you to heel ...

He wants to leave; threateningly

and, mother ... leave my guards alone!

LIVIA

Grasps his knees

Why do you reject me? you were my child.

For you I did it all.

Give me your hands to hold. They were so small.

The fingers were like little grubs, so white.

And do not send! Please don't send him, my child!

TIBERIUS [ _At the door_ ]

I'm sending them – together purposely – for only I

can see, can understand through what blind tensions,

whereby each man is knotted tightly,

our Empire maintains its balance still

and holy rest. I see, and therefore I can rule. [88]

He goes off, to his bedchamber

LIVIA [ _To Plancina_ ]

He's pitching into madness, and I am old.

I need to save him, soon, before I should die.

Remember the doctor. The surgeon of Germanicus.

I'll let him know betimes.

Where you must get the poison, you'll hear it later.

PLANCINA

You are raising something frightful, horrible.

Germanicus is son and friend to Caesar.

LIVIA

I know this Caesar – is he not then my child?

He never speaks straight-out, and those around him,

those who both serve and love him, have to guess,

search deep into his words, watch how his calm clear eyes

flicker; read other, deeper thoughts

in every simple sentence;

from a thousand little gestures we must guess,

and from his silences, guess from his hesitations

what that dark will of Caesar wants.

And then we do it – for we, we are his hands,

which by some quirk are severed wholly from his heart.

PART III

THE ROMAN NEAR EAST

Scene Seven

The palace of the Nabataean king

Some months later

[89]

A few months later. Hall in the palace of the king of the Nabataeans. They are seated at table: King Aretas; Germanicus; Agrippina; Piso; Plancina; courtiers and officers. The feast is almost over. Water with manna is served by female slaves. The minor figures chat and joke cheerfully but the attitudes of the central figures are visibly tense. Germanicus sits still; he appears pale and emaciated.

FIRST ROMAN OFFICER

Now I've had a belly-full!

Chuck out and bring me _wine_ , Falernian;

I am a Roman, d'you get it? Roman!

These Nabataeans with their manna-juice

with water – sweet and cloying to the taste,

deserve to be enslaved. I am a Roman.

VOICES

He's mocking us. Insults us. Bring my weapons.

VOICE

Who dares speak of weapons here where Caesar sits?

Germanicus calls one of his officers (Second Roman Officer) who goes to the protester and motions to him to leave the hall

FIRST ROMAN OFFICER

My only commander's Cneius Piso.

Imperial Legate;

And not from you – not even from your master.

He looks at Piso, who shakes his head and indicates that the officer should rather comply

All right, I'll go then.

VOICE AND GENERAL GRUMBLING

Our king has been insulted and our race!

ANOTHER VOICE

We who are free allies of great Rome,

no-one's slaves! [90]

King makes a pacificatory gesture

GERMANICUS [ _Softly_ ]

You need to make a stand;

and speak nobly, my Piso, to lift this rudeness,

this idiocy from its settled hinge ...

and show us fair and just before our friends.

PISO [ _Growling_ ]

He's stupid. I made him go. They should forget it.

GERMANICUS

Gets up with difficulty

Then in this too I must serve Rome,

and more than Rome – keep myself safe

against assaults on my honour by lesser men.

[ _Loudly_ ] My allies and my friends, I feel small;

the name of Rome has been made small, besmirched

by a Roman, an officer of mine,

who thought he spoke from pride.

Both Rome and I beg that you will forgive.

His foolish words make me a supplicant

and you the judges. I ask you now, judge more mildly

than his brute foolishness gives you the right.

And ... and ... but why more words? Forgive us.

He sits down tiredly

PISO

I truly think Caesar has said too much.

GERMANICUS

And Cneius Piso said too little, as always.

KING

Those foolish words are long since forgotten,

for Caesar's grace caught them in their flight

and stopped them before they reached the ears

of all the men of my beloved Nabataea;

but before our feast comes to an end tonight

before the morning stars arise – you leave our city,

this rugged Petra that no Caesars have seen [91]

before, I want to show to you the love

that we all feel for Caesar and for Rome,

and beg that you should tell it all to Caesar

with those few trifles that relate to trade

– of course our myrrh and that precious pitch

and the gray-white manna from our tamarisks

we showed you in our stores two days ago –

But this love is a close-knit tie

that binds Petra and Damascus both to Rome.

Take our greeting thence, take something more from us,

a keepsake to make you think of us always.

He motions to a courtier who brings two golden crowns. Aretas places it on the heads of Agrippina and Germanicus

GERMANICUS

Gets up again

A golden crown is foreign to us Romans,

but never foreign may be thought the thanks

owed you for your love of Rome ...

The effort is clearly taxing his strength, and he sits down again.

KING

Also for the noble governor of Syria

we have a small gift, a humble token

of our love and our regard.

He motions again and the courtier fetches two narrower crowns that Aretas places on the heads of Plancina and Piso. Piso snatches off his and throws it on the ground; Plancina, when she sees this, takes off hers too and puts it down on the table.

PISO

For me no crown;

most hateful of all to any Roman man.

Even Julius refused to wear a golden crown

when it was offered him in Rome – [92]

here is another Caesar and he accepts it

in Petra from a barbarian hand.

But all about him glistens with rich gold;

its scent wafts far to Arabia the Blessed.

GERMANICUS

Enough now, Piso. For me the word "barbaric"

denotes not birth, but what you do.

To greet a fair and friendly offer

with such unasked contumely – that's barbaric.

PISO

Caesar has a second chance tonight

to repudiate the action of an officer

before these people.

GERMANICUS

Don't dress your own rudeness,

Piso, in the all-encompassing "Roman man".

I shall once more tonight try to defend

the Empire's honour against Roman men

He laboriously attempts to get up

and keep that glorious old pride of ours

from gaining in this world the hateful name

"barbarity".

KING

Caesar, you are too kind.

Your friendliness, tonight it acts as border –

still restless, bristling with darts, like any border –

between two battling nations.

You, the quiet Caesar, tonight you keep

the hunting hounds of Rome away from their quarry;

we find it strange: insults and contumely

that we incurred were often treated as the crime

for which we then were punished – by Rome,

both plaintiff and the judge that tried us,

that might that mighty powers can display.

But let us not tax your friendly compliance [93]

or wait for strife to curdle a clear case –

perhaps you would then need to judge as Roman.

We should preserve this night's happy feast.

My friends and I shall go now, take leave of you tomorrow.

Aretas off, together with the Nabataeans; only the Romans remain on stage.

GERMANICUS

Your slight contempt of me, I'll let that go.

This is not the first, Piso; and it's different

from your grim honesty and straight man's talk

of earlier – but your contempt will not be answered.

I must say something of our Empire:

Do you hear the fear in every word, and hate

that grumbles beneath that fear in all that's said?

how deeply, without thought they mistrust our law,

how they mistrust, despise our justice?

And, Piso, it's through you and others like you

that trample through this world with oxen-hooves.

This is poor service to the Empire, Piso,

and I shall not allow it! As long as I

Here he again attempts to get up, but cannot rise

have power, fair play will be the nucleus,

perhaps a kernel, small, nearly invisible,

and yet a nucleus of peace within the strife.

Perhaps it won't be long – but too long

for Piso, so it seems ...

He slumps forward slightly over the table

AGRIPPINA

[ _Springs forward to help him_ ] Are you ill again?

You should have rested. I should have made you rest..

not keep such late hours. Where is the pain?

GERMANICUS

The pain is passing, dear... [ _Smiles_ ]

And leaves me weaker still

but a ruler of the Empire should be strong. [94]

Yet ... many want to see this hand even more unsteady

AGRIPPINA

If I'd but known!

See how pale, how grey you are!

This long illness, which is close to death,

that never ends and does not bear a name,

no name that I dare say. Are you in pain again?

If I could take the pain for you. Yes, laugh

– or did I see you smiling, Cneius Piso? –

I dare to give this dread disease a name

that for months has gnawed the Caesar's bowels –

Yes, all must hear! – : someone is feeding it to him,

how I cannot say, but who it is I do know well!

hatred has many links, but it has one ring only

that moors it fast ...

But how? Where? And by which of many servants?

those that hate him, are dark and many-handed.

PISO

There's poison in this endless search for poison

that search for guilty hands that can distil.

AGRIPPINA

What if we should ask Plancina then

to taste the plates before the Caesar eats?

PLANCINA

She's accusing me! She's lying, lying shamelessly.

AGRIPPINA

It's just a thought – it should taste very nice.

Livia's dear friend must have knowledge

of many tastes – and strange ones.

[ _Abruptly_ ] No more jokes. I'm playing around with bitter words

and you're in pain. It's bad. And you may die.

GERMANICUS

You're speaking names that should not be spoken so,

especially not here. This world is not the same.

PLANCINA

I'll keep in mind these slanders and that name. [95]

She hurts the majesty of Caesar when

she talks about his mother – _so_ ;

you know you must go back to Rome again!

AGRIPPINA

Just hear: she speaks of _me_ as going back to Rome.

She speaks of _me_. She knows that I return alone.

She knows that if you go back, Livia never

will dare to touch me.

The only reason why she and Livia will not

destroy us both, right now, is that they still fear,

that we, though dead, will still speak out so loud,

that all the world will listen – if two should die

together from the imperial house.

PLANCINA

The woman's mad.

I really do feel bad about your illness, Caesar,

ills that multiply, as she says, and do not end.

Please allow me to go now.

Germanicus nods his permission

GERMANICUS

I must ask all to leave and let me be alone.

All except Piso. And sleep well, all.

There are some things we must discuss.

All off except Germanicus, Piso and Agrippina

AGRIPPINA

Please let me stay. Your life is under threat.

Tonight we heard that most fatal word.

I shudder to leave you in Piso's company.

He leans on Livia and Tiberius,

and dares do all – let him hear my words...

GERMANICUS

I'm not a king of kings at all

that needs a constant guard ...

_Smiling_ [96]

and when you talk of tasting, remember this –

poison can seep into us some other way

than just through food and drink; from every corner

of our dear earth we feel it seeping into us:

some people it makes mad, and others ill.

You may go now, my child. You stay a child.

Agrippina off

Germanicus remains seated. Piso stands; there is a short pause

Now I can complain, complain to you, Piso;

and make you sit in judgement on yourself:

start with your acts and language this very night,

the way you show yourself so full of spleen.

PISO

Tonight you humiliated an officer of mine,

I'll say it – before barbarians – that's what

they are. It is un-Roman.

You humiliated yourself with a golden crown ...

GERMANICUS

What is a crown – it is a ring of gold –

PISO

... and crowned your humiliation with your thanks

for the sly tradesman's cant the king has uttered.

It is un-Roman. And then you humiliated _me_

and called me rude, because I dared

in the limp, effete East to show myself as hard.

GERMANICUS

Those are complaints about tonight; I could answer,

if I so wished, and refute each charge

by showing it as false. But this grim grudge –

what shall I say – this close-to-hatred, is _old_ :

it lies and glowers at me months on end.

You grumbled about me to underlings;

that was small-minded, Piso.

You made my soldiers in Syria profligate

and sought to buy their gratitude, [97]

showed them your wife, let them play games

things the old Piso would not stoop to do.

Tonight we heard how they speak now;

and what they say, they have been taught long since.

You, Piso, have dissolved your pride, and I –

you force me to be vicious when I list them.

PISO

And you have changed long since, Caesar.

You're not the young Germanicus that gleamed

cold and straight like a bright sword over Gaul ...

GERMANICUS

Piso, Piso. I am tired and ill.

PISO

Germanicus, you're young-old, weak and limp.

Here in the East you have gone too soft,

white-fingered you search out every curiosity;

look up each oracle, the holy Apis,

the one that Augustus did not want to see;

you listen to the babble of their priestlings;

drink in old images and pyramids;

I'm sure you dream all night of their old temples

and gape at holy hieroglyphs;

all day you hold a mirror in your hand,

admire fine carpets or blue enamelled work,

the finest made in our Syria – art and playthings.

You're now a dilettante.

GERMANICUS

Dear Piso, no.

PISO

It's not what we and thousands like us wanted –

the best Romans wanted something else.

GERMANICUS

Romans, Romans. Always that name with pride.

For you all things are simple; and for me

– perhaps I'm simply dull – all is complex, [98]

endlessly filled with possibility and play.

PISO

That's all we ever get from you: just words,

just talk and playing with what's possible.

GERMANICUS

And yet I need to tease you with what's possible:

Look at the East, look at our millions,

the nations that trade here, sell and copulate;

and dance in ecstasy before their gods,

or ponder in deep silences unknown to us –

is this all madness, a simmering of warm air,

decadence and endless mouldering?

or a fertile hotbed, exuding stench and steam,

for a new reality that we do not know?

In human life lies great uncertainty:

death, madness, new birth, and renewed power.

Whoever tries to take a stand in this, Piso,

he either is a god or he is blasphemous.

PISO

Pull yourself loose. Come on and act; to act,

that is the strength of our race.

GERMANICUS

Those are mere words.

I am wounded, and I expect much less

for both Empire and myself and for humanity.

PISO

That's treachery, Germanicus, against all –

No, that's too unworthy and too mean.

GERMANICUS

I'm feeling for renewal in this mess ...

I see renewal, humanity shine dimly through ...

maybe "Roman" is not yet the last word.

PISO

One thing is true: we rule in all our greatness.

Our race was cruel and holy on this earth, [99]

strong, cruel, beautiful. We are justice for the world,

we give its laws. We create possibilities

for other nations to live – dumb and brutish –

each in its rotten, destructive festering

when it stands alone without us, but we

bind them all in thraldom, give them life.

Our deaths mean death for them all singly later on.

We dare not die – and yet we die so painfully!

So many of our voices have been stilled

while feeling deep within their bodies the decline

of this late world. This earth we have to cauterise,

burn all its yellow pus from every wound,

we must cleanse the world, make Rome new, rule!

You can, you must, you are the only one who can!

Forgive me for my wild bitterness

– I knew you can, can, can and just won't do it!

You have all the gold, you have all my legions,

you control the whole great East by yourself ...

you have to grasp this Empire that brings all to one,

that stirs and muddles all, grasp it and break it

and cause the great Roman race to rule alone,

grim and lonely, no-man's-friend, in single mastery

GERMANICUS

Walks to the window slowly and throws it open

The night lies open right up to the stars.

Look how the milky way streams bright above the whole earth,

unlike its Roman glow. If I should say:

"Look at the stars" – would that answer you,

Piso, and all your politics? your will?

your high aspiration? Would you grasp that?

PISO

No, nothing, not a word.

GERMANICUS

No, you would not understand.

Perhaps my words are stupid, my thinking dulled. [100]

But all is complicated, even to act

is not as you think, simple; and every thought

is triply tied, deeply knotted.

[ _Abruptly_ ] You, Piso, who are Tiberius' friend, and,

so they say, were sent to keep me in line

and spy on me – what is it that you want?

PISO

That you strike Tiberius and destroy him –

GERMANICUS

You're doubly disloyal, Piso?

PISO

Disloyal, disloyal

To this flaccid age! But undivided loyalty

to all that's glorious on this earth.

My city spread out on its seven hills

– the eternal, the unhappy, the sacred city –

she is the visible image of that great race

there granted to the world to rule ...

You must cleanse her now,

excise the house of Caesar from her womb –

cut out the sickness of the masses

that grows around the Caesars like ripe red canker

so that her foreign senate of Syrians be gone,

and Asian men, their novel tradesmen's thoughts

be _dug_ out, dug out and burned. A second Sulla,

restore the republic and make it rule

as only lord, so lordly on this earth.

[ _Agitated_ ] Gods, were those not your very words?

You spoke like that before, and I listened,

thought you meant it, thought that I understood ...

[ _Vehemently_ ] Go, tell it to Tiberius – you are his serf!

Go, and tittle-tattle! You dare not, dare not –

you think you're noble, but I dare take you down,

I dare take you down secretly, for I spit

on this exclusive, personal pride. [101]

One thing is my pride – the nobility of my race.

GERMANICUS

For you the world still seems wide, Piso:

that you can have clarity, be simple,

an old Roman. But I know it constricts,

it makes one choke, it takes one _so_

[ _Indicates his throat_ ] – and you,

you struggle as I do in words and thoughts,

and shudder in the meshes of this age.

Black ecstasies dance, already twist your brain.

PISO

Can you not understand? Must I strike hard

before you understand: you're dying, dying now

there where you sit. She guessed it right – the drops

of daily poison drip gram by gram into your veins ...

GERMANICUS

Piso, Piso. You are truly dreadful, Piso.

PISO

If you but _act_ , then this disease will stop!

I can prevent it! I'm exposing myself to you.

I can prevent it, whoever else must die, even she ...

But it will truly end ...

GERMANICUS [ _Loftily_ ]

Before this I have often said I won't be dragged

to Rome – not even to rule will I be dragged.

Goes to the door

PISO

You're dying. You understand? You're dying!

You can do nothing. It can't be stopped.

One from your house. Twenty that you really trust,

thirty or forty. Who's nearest or who's furthest?

To find that out, you will have to take them out,

all of them. Where? And how? I can prevent it.

I want to do so, whoever else must die, even my wife.

GERMANICUS [102]

Your wife? Your wife?

PISO

I'd even have her tortured,

Have her burned or racked; and she's not tough, I know her;

she'll soon talk.

GERMANICUS

Piso, you're no longer human.

Your thoughts are black and poisoned,

I wish I could get you calm, calm and restful,

and slowly nurture humanity in you,

somewhere inside. And I must search, for everything

that is human, is sick in our dread time,

and I must take care ...

PISO

_You_ can't prevent it,

you _can_ not. You'll die, if not, then you'll become

great and glorious as you should, as you _were_

or else you'll die. And _I'm_ not your murderer;

I'm just abandoning you to die, with great contempt.

Germanicus, these are mighty matters, these:

I could, if I should strive against the Caesars,

strike Augustus down in a stealthy trap, strike down

Tiberius or any of his ilk, without a care ...

another Caesar would rise when the first had gone –

some may be good, and others bad –

but one who gained a brother's trust from me

in deepest unity and saw the darkening glow

of my thought and could, but would not, be great ...

he passes all comprehension, he is dreadful,

misshapen like a crippled gnome – _and dying_.

GERMANICUS

So we have reached an end. Oh well, this life:

is it really worth so much that a man

must be small-minded – smaller than you _see_ –

to keep this gift intact? [103]

Our friendship, Piso,

I shall now forswear with all ancient rites.

He opens the door and says something to the guard. After a short while his officers enter.

[ _Still quietly_ ] That hate can so take hold of a man,

and so corrupt him, it still seems strange to me.

PISO [ _Softly_ ]

Hate, hate, Germanicus ...?

GERMANICUS [ _Loudly_ ]

Through the power vested in me as Caesar's regent

and because he rebelled against me, countermanded

my words, I command Cneius Calpurnius Piso

to leave Syria where he is a legate

and also the whole East that is ours.

And Piso,

here before witnesses, as is our ancient custom,

I renounce our friendship.

PISO

Caesar, I'm going [ _Off_ ]

Germanicus staggers to the table; his officers run forward and grab him before he falls

VOICE

Go, fetch his doctor. Where is his old doctor!

Scene Eight

Daphne, in front of the temple of Apollo

A month later

[104]

About a month later, at sunset. In front of the temple of Apollo at Daphne, four miles from Antioch on the Orontes, capital city of the Roman East. Soldier standing guard. Old officer enters.

OFFICER

Any more news? How is he doing now?

SOLDIER

No better than this morning when the pains

subsided slightly; but I don't think worse.

OFFICER

I am glad. Last night was truly dreadful

as every night has been since we left Petra.

I've just come from the city. The populace

raved like easterners. I had to bring them the message

that Caesar had improved – perhaps will live:

they sing, they shout: "He's alive, we're saved!".

In this city, and in the entire East

there is a ripened madness rife

a thing to fear, for I am only Roman;

their wild, dark gods proliferate:

in every town a Baal, a Ba'alat

Ishtar and Ashtoreth and El, you name them.

Have you noticed it? And just like them, the people.

But I have found an amulet for him, and brought it

see here: a scarab beetle – blue enamel

just like those they dig up here in Syria;

something precious to his heart, or as his heart

has now become ...

SOLDIER

Here comes the doctor: you can ask him.

Elderly doctor enters

OFFICER

How is he now?

DOCTOR [105]

I can do nothing. What d'you say?

SOLDIER

D'you think it's poison?

DOCTOR

Poison?

Who spoke here of poison? Who's speaking?

Why must everybody cackle all the time?

SOLDIER

The whole army's saying it. All the people ...

DOCTOR

Who're all the people? Thousand-and-one heads

and only one who stood in line the day

when brains were handed out. Listen:

each man has his hour. We all must die someday.

SOLDIER

Perhaps it's only his wife's wild ...

The door behind him opens. Servants enter with an arm chair; almost immediately after them, Germanicus and Agrippina. He is helped to the couch.

SERVANT

The Caesar complains he's short of breath;

wants to come outside ...

GERMANICUS

How lovely is the evening

in this dark green valley, rich rows

of olives – and see, right up to my fingertips

it's green. Don't bother to bring lights.

You, Marius, what do you have to report?

OFFICER

I delivered your message in the city as you asked,

Caesar. The people, they all love you, but not

like us ... not, let me think ... not ... reasonably.

I must say this: the whole East, and Antioch

scared me with the ravings of its peoples.

When I got there, someone had just reported [106]

that you were dying: they screeched like maniacs,

took to the dark streets, threw stones and torches

at the temples, burned their Baals and precious clothing,

cursed their gods and called up the multitudes of hell,

howling like wild beasts: that you are dying,

that all salvation, master, dies with you.

GERMANICUS

Can it be grief that raves like that? Most grief

runs deep and still, grim and alone ...

OFFICER

When I had brought the message to their city fathers,

that you are better: why then the winds

blew from the opposite direction, yet fanned their flames:

they sang and danced, fell down in a trance;

suddenly all grabbed torches and streamed out,

a flickering entourage making for this place.

ANOTHER VOICE

There I can see the first glow though the plantations.

OFFICER

They must see you, know that you are safe.

STILL ANOTHER VOICE

I can see them come.

GERMANICUS

That is a wicked glow.

VOICE

A stream of fire through the marshes.

OFFICER

And behind it, there

Antioch lies smouldering like a torch.

The red glow from one of the wings grows stronger and stronger

GERMANICUS

Deploy the guard. Let no-one else come close.

An officer goes off

AGRIPPINA [107]

Listening at the opposite side of the stage

Listen: the chink of weapons, there're soldiers too!

VOICE

The legions are also marching here!

VOICE

Who is expected?

VOICE

No-one!

Officer enters

OFFICER

The eastern legions here in Syria

are marching here! They're up in arms,

no-one could keep them back: they must see you

and be assured that you are safe.

Rumours that the Caesar's dying, has been murdered,

shouts of hatred against Piso, who is named,

the name Tiberius plays from mouth to mouth,

[ _softly_ ] again those shouts of "Marching on to Rome" ...

GERMANICUS

Even my death has become rebellion against Rome.

AGRIPPINA

Please don't speak of dying. Please, please don't.

VOICE

The torch-glow's coming nearer, but it's still.

Can so many feet tread so without a sound?

Officer enters

OFFICER

Something very strange has happened.

The watch was standing guard

when the vanguard of the dancers arrived.

One of our men – who knows the language –

said that Caesar was sitting here outside

and that he's weak.

And then those ranks, pale, terrified

subsided like a burned-out flame. [108]

and something, a quiet terrifying prayer

flickered out among all the torches.

They're lying there before the guardsmen

like dogs that strain against a choke-chain,

and this side stands the legion

in serried ranks, quiet in the darkness.

GERMANICUS

What more do they still want of me?

OFFICER

The people all love you. They want to see you.

They want to send representatives to look,

hurry past in silence and see you alive;

and then they'll go away.

GERMANICUS

Let us no longer speak of love, no.

We have grown used to a different voice.

They don't really know why they now mourn,

powerless – these people – against all passions

that call for fulfilment, and against their grief.

They want a ruler and it's him they love

because he stands mighty above their passions.

They mourn – and don't know why – for one who's dying,

one of the diminishing few that stand as watchmen

[ _Slowly_ ] as guards between themselves and madness.

OFFICER

Your words are bitter – and they really love you;

they think – and we think – it's strange, incomprehensible

your suffering is for us and them ...

Why must you say these cruel words,

you who were always kind, dear master?

you were a friend to all, even the slightest ...

ANOTHER OFFICER

You could have served this nation and this army

as leader chosen over all.

GERMANICUS [109]

I could have grabbed control, I know.

But I don't know what it was in me, _in_ me

that would not grab;

and a strange revulsion grips my thoughts.

Deploy the guard! Let no-one now come near.

I was too lucid.

A man should have a muddied mind

to stay human still – _or_ if you want to rule ...

[ _Softly_ ] tell me, do you know? where is Piso now?

OFFICER

Some say he's in Seleucia now

where he daily waits for news of you

to hear how you are now, Germanicus.

GERMANICUS

And Piso, where is Piso now?

He's in Seleucia ... He waits for news of me

to hear how I am now.

OFFICER

Messages fly back and forth in secret

from Antioch right to Seleucia ...

GERMANICUS

And Marius, you have something there for me?

Marius hands it to him

A scarab beetle, blue enamel, Egyptian

and fifteen hundred years it's old; and here

in Syria. And obscure barbarians

from Babylon, Cynaxa, Ecbatana

have cast their shadows on every inch of ground

in this land Syria, this land that's fertile

as a furrow filled with cool dark-blue dung;

and all was old even before Rome was born.

It is precious, Marius;

and it is dreadful to see it so ...

and tell me, do you know where Piso is? Piso?

OFFICER [110]

Caesar, Piso's lying hidden in Seleucia.

A soldier enters carrying something in his hand, wrapped in a cloth

SOLDIER

Someone left it with the guards,

someone – it's for the Caesar ...

He says it will serve as a sign

if he can come ...

GERMANICUS

My sword.

Friends – please leave me alone a while.

I really need it. You too. Yes, and also you.

And let him come.

All off except Germanicus

My sword that I gave away in Germany.

Piso enters. At first he is almost completely muffled. When the soldier who led him inside, has left, he throws off his cloak

Have you come to watch me die? There is danger

in coming here. The people would rend your limbs.

PISO

And are you dying now, and will it now end,

or nearly end, except for Piso, this dying?

first Lucius and then Marcus and now Piso.

– then Agrippina. Tell me: why are we dying,

why must all die who love you so?

why did you drag me to follow after you

till I was weakened to this point?

GERMANICUS

You speak of things that I don't understand, Piso.

PISO

Don't understand, yes don't. Never understood.

Never, never understood with all your clear sight.

For "see" is not foresee, not "grasp", not _understand_ –

as one man can grasp and _hold_ another. [111]

That you couldn't do: hold fast and feel and know

even without sight – blindly know because you're human ...

_that_ you couldn't do.

And that is why, you, with all your softness, love,

trampled on us and over all of us

who happened on your path, more cruel

than the black beast Tiberius who stayed a _man_.

And how long must it go on before it finds its end,

before the last drop has been wrung out?

your last child? or where will it still lead?

GERMANICUS

You come here to rail at me where I am dying

and even now rake out old bitter matters

full of uncertainty ...

PISO

And you are stupid.

I have to put it plainly. You were so great:

You were born to such estate and power

that even when you held out your hand

you touched the lot of men. And if you raised your hand

then soldiers had to die – and children wail;

and if this hand devised some new law

then millions had to bend, and some to die

of all those shadowy underlings that lie

too far below for you to see or know.

You were so great that every time you stirred

cracks tore open, and furrows gaped all round;

and, don't you grasp this, understand?

that even sitting still you were a sabre?

and that is why we all must die. And why

I jeer and jeer as you prepare to die ...

GERMANICUS

Piso, your hatred ... it was a poisoned cup

that poisoned you while it was killing me.

PISO [112]

Hate, hate! He says it again: hate.

That was what you said at our parting, Germanicus:

how I could hate you so.

I loved you in my heart!

I loved you with my heart,

loved you terribly, Germanicus.

Not softly, gently as _you_ loved us all,

my love was different: it tore me up,

each night and every day it gnawed at me,

drove me to silence, made me dry and old.

I saw your youth, and heard your voice;

ignored my seniority to serve with you

as officer. And I prepared a long time

for the time when you would sparkle. Let me speak.

You were for me the be-all and the end-all,

for only you were untainted in this world.

You do not know how cruel such things can be.

A woman's love – it has a hint of filth,

and yet can comfort; helps a man forget.

But this love: like a lens it concentrates

the intensely focussed, sharpest, whitest flame

just on one spot, burns and glitters still

until I'm blinded, until I see none else

than you, Germanicus, the greatest and most holy,

the only hero left in our once-bright race:

at first when you were young, almost just a boy;

then: lean and pale and high on the triumphal seat.

Oh, Germanicus, Germanicus

you do not know how much you brought me down

when you rejected greatness – when you ... chose tameness

for – my love had ascribed to you such clarity

unmixed with subterfuge.

GERMANICUS

I was not great.

How can a hero be so pale and feeble [113]

so bloodless, as I feel?

PISO

That's treachery –

You betray me – and all else flees before me

and that is why you die.

Not Livia, not Plancina, but my heart's love

devotes you unto death. I could have got it all from her,

found out what I needed, how to save you;

I would have choked it from her, no matter how.

More often than only once when I felt weak,

these hands reached out around her throat to feel,

in the silence of the night.

But I'll be strong still and Germanicus

will die.

I'll die too, this love of mine will die,

and all the pain,

and our great race will run out in the sand,

and all will flicker out, slowly, slowly.

GERMANICUS

Not you, nor Livia, nor Plancina ...

I'm dying of this time.

It's best that I should die for my will

is standing still in me, so that I see

all things through glass ... or _in_ the glass

immeasurably far, not for me to touch

but to view them happen as before a god.

And we don't grasp each other's thoughts.

And yet

I thought of you, before you came just now,

Piso, as if I had something to say ...

it is no matter, for nothing ever really ends,

nothing is rounded off,

and nothing's whole and flawless on this earth.

PISO [114]

Germanicus.

Agrippina enters

AGRIPPINA

To Piso

Then it was you? I thought I heard your voice.

To her husband. Kneels next to him

How are you? Say how you're doing? Oh, my fears

come just when I'm alone, oh the fear,

the fear ...

To Piso

What do you want? Have you not had enough?

Did you not all grub into him like worms,

right into his living flesh; till he fell down

and lies like this? And I am what I am now?

Jumps up

No, I shan't be calm, collected, nor resigned,

bearing it without complaint because they rule

so powerfully, and I so powerless.

No, no, you should not have asked me that.

Piso, I'll track you down! Pursue you dreadfully,

track, track you as you here assaulted me.

I shall call forth that love the armies had for him

and all the nations too, I'll call,

turn it to hatred, and track you down

though you might flee, take refuge with Tiberius ...

he'll throw you away just like he used you

for now you're tainted, of no more use to him ...

I'll lie before his house, lie and wait patiently

until he throws you out.

Yes, I too shall die,

but first give birth to my last, dearest child:

this vengeance.

I'll track you down, Piso!

Track you down I will!

PISO [115]

The hunt will not be long, for I'll not flee;

your little vengeance small and very poor.

AGRIPPINA

Shall I not fabricate that pain to make you feel?

give flesh to you, add nerves and sinews too

to make you flinch before the knife?

put in your throat a scream for you to shout out?

You may not perish without pain!

not without fear – that would be a dreadful thing;

It's a cruel thing when someone hates with words alone.

She goes to the door

I'll call the guard. And the sombre people.

And I shall shout: "Here is Calpurnius Piso!

Have you been looking for him?"

GERMANICUS

No, no.

AGRIPPINA

Don't hold me back. This is my child, my child.

I must see his thin lips, just once, scream out.

GERMANICUS

Please don't call them, just don't.

Come, sit here, dear.

AGRIPPINA

But it is dreadful, thrice dreadful,

all my fears arise again:

my hands and feet tied fast, a hand

held over my mouth, always before me: Livia,

Livia, that dreadful woman.

I'm so afraid – and _he_ sees how much I fear.

GERMANICUS

Go now, please, Piso. This is not really parting.

Piso off.

And now it's time to die, dearest. I loved you

dearly. Let them now carry me inside.

And maybe nothing will be lost. [116]

AGRIPPINA

Marius! Marius!

Marius, the old Doctor, Officers and Servants enter

DOCTOR

By now he's with the Caesars.

###

Select Bibliography

Antonissen, Rob 1962. _Kern en tooi: Kroniek van die Afrikaanse lettere 1951-1960_. Cape Town: Nasou.

Ayres, Philip, ed. 1990. _Ben Jonson: Sejanus, His Fall_. Manchester and New York: Manchester Univ. Press.

Billerbeck, M. 1991. 'Die Dramatische Kunst des Tacitus' _ANRW_ II.33/4, 2752-71.

Boase-Beier, J. & Holman, M. 1999. _The Practices of Literary Translation: Constraints and Creativity_. Manchester: St. Jerome Publishing.

Brink, A.P. 1959. _Germanicus en die Tragedies van Shakespeare_. M.A. Diss., Potchefstroom.

Claassen, J.M. 1996: 'Germanicus revisited – and revised?' _Akroterion_ 41, 133-50.

– . 2006: 'Rendering Caesar: thoughts on the translation into English of N P Van Wyk Louw's _Germanicus'_ , _Akroterion_ 51, 57-69.

Conradie, P.J. 1974. 'Die gebruik van antieke bronne in Van Wyk Louw se _Germanicus_ ' in P.J. Conradie 1974, _Spanning en Ewewig_. Pretoria: Academica.

Devillers, O. 1993. 'Le rôle des passages relatifs à Germanicus dans les _Annales_ de Tacite'. _Ancient Society_ 24, 225-41.

Eck, Werner 1993. 'Das s.c. de Cn. Pisone Patre und seine Publication in der Baetica'. _Cahiers du Centre Glotz_ 4, 189-208.

Fabbrini, F. 1986. 'Tacito tra storiografia e tragedia,' in _I raconti di Clio. Tecniche narrative della storiografia_ , coll. La Porta di Corno 6. Pisa.

Fowler, Don 2000. _Roman Constructions: Readings in Postmodern Latin_. Oxford: OUP.

France, P. 2000. _The Oxford Guide to Literature in English Translation_. Oxford: OUP.

Grové, A.P. (new ed.) 1965. _Oordeel en Vooroordeel_. Cape Town: Nasou.

Kannemeyer, J.C. 1978. _Geskiedenis van die Afrikaanse Literatuur_. Pretoria: Academica.

Louw, N.P. Van Wyk 1939, 5th repr. 1975. _Lojale Verset: Kritiese Gedagtes oor ons Afrikaanse Kultuurstrewe en ons Literêre Beweging_. Cape Town: Tafelberg.

Louw, N.P. Van Wyk 1956, 10th repr. 1970. _Germanicus_. Cape Town: Tafelberg.

Louw, N.P. Van Wyk 1962. _Tristia en Ander Verse: Voorspele en Vlugte 1950-1959_. Cape Town: Human and Rousseau.

Luce, T.J. and Woodman A.J. (edd.) 1993. _Tacitus and the Tacitean tradition_. Princeton: PUP.

Mendell, C.W. 1935. 'Dramatic construction of Tacitus' Annals'. _Yale Classical Studies_ 5, 3-53.

Muller, Laurent 1994. 'La Mort D'Agrippine (Tacite _Annales_ 14.1-13): Quelques elements tragiques de la composition du récit'. _Les études Classiques_ 62.1, 27-43.

Olivier, Gerrit 1992. _N.P. Van Wyk Louw: Literatuur, Filosofie, Politiek_. Cape Town: Human and Rousseau.

Pelling, Christopher 1993. 'Tacitus and Germanicus' in T.J. Luce and A.J. Woodman (eds.) _Tacitus and the Tacitean tradition_ (q.v.), 59-85.

Piek, C.J. 1971. _Die Katarsis-belewing in Germanicus van N.P. Van Wyk Louw._ M.A. Diss. UNISA.

Pretorius, Rena 1972. _Die Begrip 'Intellektueel' by N.P. Van Wyk Louw_. Pretoria: Van Schaik.

Ross, D.O. 1973. 'The Tacitean Germanicus'. _Yale Classical Review_ 23, 209-27.

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—. 1970. _Ten studies in Tacitus_. Oxford: Clarendon.

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About the Author

**NP Van Wyk Louw** (1906-1970) towered over the Afrikaans literary scene as poet and essayist. He was one of the first, perhaps the most prominent, of the so-called _dertigers_ ("writers of the thirties"), innovative poets who broke new ground, sending Afrikaans poetry in new directions. Louw led the way in rejecting a restrictive, colonial-style literature, concentrating rather on intellectual and self-analytical poetry, rich in symbolism and imagery. He was in 1960 awarded the most prestigious Afrikaans literary prize, the Herzog Prize, for his verse drama _Germanicus_.

About the Translator

**Jo-Marie Claassen** holds a D.Litt. from Stellenbosch University, South Africa, for her work on the exiled Roman poet Ovid. She retired from the Department of Ancient Studies at that university in 2001. She has published two books on Ovid and a large number of academic articles on a wide range of topics from the ancient world. Her bilingual home background and interest in languages enabled her to rise to the challenge of translating an idiosyncratic Afrikaans classic into modern English. Her previous attempts at translation have been limited to short pieces for the local parish magazine that she edits. Since her retirement she has also become involved in various charities. Her husband, Piet, is a retired urban planner and academic. They have a daughter and son and two grandsons.

jmc@adept.co.za

Other Books by Translator

Ovid Revisited: The Poet in Exile (Bloomsbury, 2013) EPUB Ebook

 Ovid Revisited: The Poet in Exile (Duckworth, 2008) paperback

 Displaced Persons: the literature of exile from Cicero to Boethius (Duckworth, 1999) hardback and paperback

Smashwords: author page

Copyright

Published by Jo-Marie Claassen

First edition 2013

Copyright © N.P. van Wyk Louw

(Originally published in Afrikaans by Tafelberg, an imprint of NB Publishers, Cape Town, South Africa in 1956)

Cover design by © Jo-Marie Claassen

www.dragonflyebooks.co.uk

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication, may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this translator.

Book Description

This is the first translation into English of the verse drama _Germanicus_ by the Afrikaans poet N.P. Van Wyk Louw. The work was based on the first three chapters of the _Annales_ of the Roman historiographer Tacitus. After the death of Emperor Augustus, his successor Tiberius' adopted son Germanicus recoils from the cruelty inherent in imperial rule. In the end he helplessly acquiesces, finally welcoming his own death as a means of escape from the burden of empire.

The drama has been considered a highlight in Afrikaans literature since its publication in 1956. Its interest lies in its amazing sweep of words, Louw's sense of history and his portrayal of the inevitability of the corruption inherent in power. Louw's great monologues dominate the debates between his main protagonists. His poetic Afrikaans had a grand eloquence that swept his audience along in a torrent of densely-argued meaning. Such conciseness offered severe challenges to the translator. Claassen's colloquial translation manages to capture both the essence of Louw's dramatic dialogues and the rhythmic cadences of the original poetry.

The translator provides a lengthy Introduction, aimed at both a classical and a theatre-going readership, explaining the historical background and discussing Louw's interpretation of Tacitus' narrative and the constraints under which a translator works. An overview of the contents of the eight scenes of the drama completes the Introduction. A select bibliography is provided at the end of the volume.

Full Recommendations

"Professor Claassen is an internationally acknowledged expert on the relationship between Roman history and culture and the concerns of writers today. Her translation marks an important extension of the availability of Afrikaans texts to anglophone readers. It will enhance appreciation of the role of Afrikaans writers in the theatre and literature that has helped to shape the new South Africa. Professor Claassen's translation adds a distinctive dimension to awareness of how the portraits of rulers presented in ancient historiography have influenced modern readers' and audiences' perceptions of their own societies."

Professor Lorna Hardwick: Open University, United Kingdom

"This translation is exciting, thorough and very readable. Its language is as gripping as the original. Jo-Marie Claassen's Introduction has taught me more about Germanicus and about Van Wyk Louw's classical background than my many years of cursory skimming through the original without the contextualisation that she provides. I had not before realised how thoroughly my grandfather used to incorporate his source material, a matter that I am sure will interest the more knowledgeable of his readers.

"I trust that this publication, which is aimed at an academic readership in the broader anglophone world, will lead to a renewed interest in Louw's work in the international arena, something that is at present limited to a small number of translations on the internet or in academic journals. This translation should contribute to a renewal in understanding of Louw's oeuvre, which has of recent been limited by too narrow a focus on the particular, ignoring the wider sweep of his work. This translation has also demonstrated to me the degree to which (apart from his poetic oeuvre) Louw's Germanicus compares with similar works by other classical scholars."

**Nico (P.N.) Muller (grandson of N.P. Van Wyk Louw): Online Editor** _Fairfax Sundays_ **, Auckland, New Zealand**

"I believe that the publication of this play in English will attract the attention of scholars in the booming field of classical reception. Up until now the _Germanicus_ has not bee accessible to much of the international scholarly community. The publication of this translation will help to draw attention not only to this sorely neglected drama but also other Afrikaans plays based on classical elements that await translation into English."

William J. Dominik: Professor of Classics, University of Otago, New Zealand

