The Capitoline Museum in Rome has so many beautiful rooms, so many beautiful statues. You can’t appreciate them fully when they’re all together like that – you get immune to the beauty of carved marble - so I suggest that Rome should share it’s wealth of amazing statues with the rest of the world, and Steve thinks this is a good plan, and that perhaps each person should be given a statue as they leave the museum, like a very heavy goodie bag.
They have so many that they jumble statues of gods and emperors together, and sometimes even just throw in a statue of a head or a even a foot. This is what I was thinking of when I wrote this dialogue between two statues that face each other in a gallery room– one of Apollo, the god of poetry, archery, and the sun – and a mortal one of Augustus Caesar.
Apollo: So…you’re new.
Caesar: What do you mean new? I’m an ancient statue as well.
Apollo: Of course, I mean you’re new here. I used to face Hermes.
Caesar: Yes, I heard someone stuck something called ‘gum’ on his toe, so he had to go get cleaned, and they moved me in. But this is a much better view than I used to have, so I’m happy.
Apollo: Hey, what’s it like outside? I can’t believe they put me, the God of the sun, facing inward, so I never get to look at the weather.
Caesar: Well, it’s not raining.
Apollo: That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got? No descriptions of golden rays? Azure skies?
Caesar: I dunno. You’re the poetry and weather guy. It’s not bloody raining.
Apollo, sighing, then muttering under his breath: Mortals.
Ceasar: Was that a dig? I’ll have you know I was Emperor of the Roman Empire.
Apollo: Yes, but didn’t you just kind of, you know, give yourself that title?
Caesar: Well, technically, yes….
Apollo: Then I’ve made my point.
Caesar: Look here, at least we know for certain that I was real. You may be just an abstract idea.
Apollo: Are you joking? I’ve been holding this bow and arrow for thousands of years. Could a mere mortal do that? Come on. Admit it. I’m magnificent. Look at my perfect physique.
Caesar, snickering: Well, it’s not exactly perfect.
Apollo: What do you mean? Look at this six-pack. I hear people comment on it all the time.
Caesar: Fair enough….but (giggle) you’re missing your, uh, bits and pieces.
Apollo: What?!
Caesar: Your tackle. Your junk. You didn’t know? Okay, I’ll try to put this delicately. Um….someone snapped your penis off hundreds of years ago.
Apollo: What?! No!
Caesar: Oh yes. It’s even sort of, um, concave down there where it should stick out. Shame, really.
Apollo: Oh, if only I could look down to see if you were telling the truth! Hermes teased me about it once or twice, but he was such a jokester, I thought it was just posturing. You know, cause I’m a superior God.
Caesar: You know who’s superior in that department - if you know what I mean – is Priapus down on the first floor. You try not to look, but, well, you know.
Apollo: Well, at least I had something at one time. You’re fully clothed.
Caesar: Yes, the mortal statues all are. It would be a bit creepy wouldn’t it, if we made naked statues of ourselves with great physiques, and then had to run into people at the market after a few big meals? Unkind comparisons could be made. But at least I know I’m all man, uh, underneath this skirt.
Apollo: Pff. Whatever.
Pause.
Apollo: Has anyone ever told you that you look like Voldemort?
Caesar: Who’s Voldemort?
Apollo: I think he’s a modern day God, from a play called Star Wars. (I try to pick up as much as possible from the clothing and conversations I hear amongst the young people, you know.) It’s because your nose is all smashed off. That’s what they used to say about Hermes – his nose was smashed too.
Caesar: I know, I’m a bit sensitive about it….I used to have the most magnificent Roman nose. Hey, I hear there’s a beautiful statue of Venus on this floor who’s got all her fingers. I could go for some of that, let me tell you. Do you think I’d have a chance with her, or would I be completing against this Voldemort?
Apollo: Bah, don’t even bother trying. We’ve all had a go, to no avail. That statue is one stone cold bitch.
Caesar, giggling: Good one.
Apollo: he he he…..I’ve still got it.
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