Unnamed Journal Volume 3, Issue 3 - Page 7

The Meditations of Caius Caligula I will not say that I never had a virgin. One night, soon after I installed the wives and families of consular senators in the Palatine, one of the older daughters of Pomponius - Servillia was her name, appropriately enough - snuck into my quarters after Caesonia had gone to bed. She was fifteen and ripe for the plucking. I saw her game in a moment - currying favor, just like her father - but she made her eyes shine brightly, and the rest of her was comely. I took her maidenhead and let her lie with me until just before dawn, when I sent her away. I knew it was a mistake of course, but sometimes I have a way fo permitting myself mistakes. They are always instructive, and anyway the prerogative of a god. The next night, of course, she came back. The guile was much reduced - a swooning childless replaced it. I had Tergestes, the chief of my German bodyguard, spank her and send her back to her mother, who punished her more severely for pestering the Emperor. I let it be known that the next maiden who was seen out of her room after dark would be passed around the Praetorians. I knew a few Praetorians who would have leapt at the chance. But they were disappointed. Just to underline the po int, I married young Servillia to a Prefect’s son. He keeps her at home, and she gave him at least three of his own children. Why did I not help myself to every little senator’s daughter, to humiliate them? Because they might not have seen it that way. A fresh young cunnus was just one more commodity to purchase my favor. If the girls had been virtuous - as some of them were - seducing them might have served. Then again, it might not. Men avenge in their daughters what they tolerate in their wives. I did enjoy several of the consular’s wives. But not the ones who enthusiastically sought my favor. Rather, I looked for the ones who fiend for their husbands were filled with loneliness. I gave them my company and was nothing lest the a right noble gentleman. The ones immune to my charms went away with nothing more than a good meal in their bellies. Few were so gifted. This cynicism benumbs me. Let me speak of Caesonia, mentioned in passing above. She was a widow, and virtuous as Junia had been. Well, almost as virtuous. She was pregnant by me when I married her. She is not beautiful, as men commonly think, but she has charms enough, and she has the right sort of humble birth to be astounded at her good fortune and find further ambition unthinkable. No Emperor has had a better wife. And she gave me the amusing little beast, Julia Drusilla, which vexes my ambitious sisters so. The rumors of me and my sisters: hilarious things, they. I do not wonder at them. It is easier for the masses to imagine their rulers as beasts or gods than men like them. How many of our gods married their own sisters? Gods are above the rules of men. So I suppose if I had wanted to, I could have married all my sisters. But it never occurred to me to even do that until the rumors circulated. Which is a fact of intense interest to me. I do not, and never have, desired my sisters. I am rather boringly senatorial that way. It must be a vestige of my manly birth. After all, most of my daily life is the life of a human. I sleep, I eat, I defecate. I retain this outward show as a connection to my task: to rule men, I live among them, as them. My divinity bursts out from this shell, yet the shell remains. For a time, anyway. The rumor-mongers might have persuaded more than my enemies if they had at least been consistent. Not only do I not love, I can barely tolerate Livilla the Younger and Agrippinilla. The latter is only alive because of her blood relation