In the rule of Divine Emperor Augustus, a dolphin was swept into the Lucrine Lake and developed the most marvellous affection for a poor man’s son, who used to travel from Baiae to Puteoli to go to school. The boy would linger there in the middle of the day and call the dolphin by the name of Simo, coaxing him with pieces of bread, which he carried expressly for the purpose. I’d be ashamed to relate this story had it not been entrusted to me in the letters of Maecenas and Fabianus and Flavius Alfius and many others. Whatever the time of day the dolphin was called by the boy, regardless of whether it was hidden far beneath the surface, it would spring from the depths, feed from his hand, and offer its back for him to mount, concealing the sharper bits of his fins in their sheath, so to speak. And having taken him up he would carry him over a vast expanse of sea to the school at Puteoli and carry him back again in the same way over several years, until the boy suddenly died of an illness. And yet the dolphin would return to the usual place, mournful and full of sorrow, until he too died – of heartache – a fact that no one could doubt.

Within the same period another dolphin, this one at Hippo Diarrhytus on the coast of Africa, used in much the same way to be hand-fed and offer himself up to be stroked. It would play among the swimmers and carry them on his back. It was smothered in perfume by Flavianus, the proconsul of Africa, and was lulled to sleep, or so it seemed, by the novelty of the fragrance, after which it floated as if it were dead. For several months the dolphin avoided contact with humans as if it had suffered at their hands. Soon, however, it returned to its old habits to the same wondrous display. Eventually, however, the ill effects that resulted from tourists coming to see this sight drove the people of Hippo to put the dolphin to death.

THE MADNESS OF HERCULES

Hercules Furens

Seneca the Younger

Translated by Jasper Heywood, 1559–1561