Books: Nero’s Double

THE PRETENDER—Lion Feuchtwanger—Viking ($2.50).

One way of seeing the present is to look at its reflection in the past. This is Lion Feuchtwanger’s method. The Pretender, his third novel of the Roman Empire, is not an antiquarian romance. It cannot be called a strictly historical novel. Readers will not need the reminder from Ecclesiastes that Author Feuchtwanger quotes: “Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us” (1 :10) to realize that much of the action of The Pretender parallels present European events. To give himself a freer hand, Author Feuchtwanger has based his story on a scanty and little-known episode in the history of Asia Minor. As usual he gives his far-off tale the vivid immediacy that has won him a place in the first rank of historical novelists.

Ex-Senator Varro, once of Rome, had thought it best to exile himself in Syria after the death of his friend and protector, the Emperor Nero. Varro had grown to like and understand the East; thanks to his money and his sympathetic shrewdness he had become one of the most potent men in Syria. Then fate sent to Antioch, as Roman Governor, Varro’s old acquaintance and antipathy, Cejonius. Because Cejonius, a cut-&-dried type of administrator, did Varro down on the little matter of a tax bill, Varro privately swore vengeance. He soon found a way to get even.

Varro was patron to the son of one of his freed slaves, Terence, a potter by trade but an actor by inclination, who so strongly resembled the late Nero that he had once successfully impersonated him before the Senate. Nero’s easygoing colonial administration had made him and his memory extremely popular in the East; the present government, with less flexible policies, was not. Varro’s idea: to start the rumor that Nero had reappeared, then palm off his protege Terence as the revivified Emperor, thus stir up hornets for penny-pinching Cejonius. Varro knew it was a dangerous plan, decided to try it anyhow, to satisfy his revenge and political curiosity.

The scheme worked smoothly. Rumors of Nero’s reappearance spread just like hornets, stung awake the disaffection already smoldering under Cejonius’ inept rule. Varro, who had craftily let some bordering native princes in on his secret, withdrew from Cejonius’ jurisdiction and watched the Roman frontier go up in flames. A few hints to Protege Terence had been enough to set him practicing Nero’s every remembered gesture. Soon he was fit to be seen by everybody but his wife, who thought he had gone crazy. For a while everything went so well that Varro began to think his dangerous jest might even turn into safe reality.

The Roman Governor, now thoroughly alarmed, waited watchfully. “Nero’s” rule, at first wildly popular, grew into hated tyranny as “Nero’s” hangers-on, whom Varro found it harder & harder to control, made hay by killing and confiscating right & left. By the time Cejonius was removed from his post and a new Governor came out from Rome with enough troops to stamp out the rebellion, “Nero’s” government was collapsing from its own rottenness. Crafty Varro did not wait to gloat over Cejonius’ downfall or to see what became of his puppet. He took refuge with the potent King of Parthia, where his suavity and brains were appreciated, and where even Rome’s long arm could not reach him. But “Nero” Terence was taken and crucified, between his right-and left-hand men.

Who Varro would represent in modern Germany is anybody’s guess, but Terence, the egotistical potter who briefly became an Emperor, is a dead ringer for Hitler. “To be an Emperor and a Leader meant nothing more to him than demonstrations, great public shows, parades, new buildings, brilliant festivals, power, glamour and above all speeches. When confronted with political and economic problems he withdrew with a dignified shake of the head into his divine majesty, convinced that if serious difficulties arose his inner voice would at once show him the right way.” And to those who think Germans are happy, Author Feuchtwanger has this to say: “A stranger visiting Samosata or Edessa would never have thought that the country was in a state of unrest. He would have had the impression that the people were quite satisfied with Nero’s rule and quite happy under it.”