Claudius the God

Nero is afraid of his mother. He obeys her in everything. She treats him with great severity. She is certain that she will rule through him after my death, just as Livia ruled first through Augustus and then through Tiberius. I can see farther than she can., I remember the Sibyl's prophecy:

The hairy Sixth to enslave the State

Shall give Rome fiddlers and fear and fire.

His hand shall be red with a parent's blood..

No hairy seventh to him succeeds

And blood shall gush from his tomb.

Nero will kill his mother. It was prophesied at his birth: Barbillus himself prophesied it, and Barbillus- never makes a mistake. He was even right about the death of Messalina's husband, was he not? Agrippinilla, being a woman, cannot command the Roman armies or address the Senate. She needs a man to do that for her. When I married her I knew that I could count on surviving so long as Nero was too young to step into my shoes.

Agrippinilla asked me to persuade the Senate to give her the title of Augusta. She did not expect me to give her what I had refused Messalina, but I did. She has taken upon herself other unheard of privileges. She sits on the tribunal beside me when I judge cases, and drives up the Capitoline Hill in a chariot. She has appointed a new Guards Commander to supersede Geta and Crispinus. His name is Burrhus and he is Agrippinilla's man, body and soul. (He served with the Guards at Brentwood and there lost three fingers of his right hand to a British broad-sword.) Rome's new Augusta has no rivals. Aelia Paetina is dead, perhaps poisoned: I do not know. Lollia Paulina was also removed: her champion, Callistus, having died, the other freedmen made no objection to her removal. She was accused of witchcraft and of circulating an astrological report that my marriage to Agrippinilla was fated to be disastrous to the country. I was sorry for Lollia, so in the speech that I made to the Senate I merely recommended her banishment. But Agrippinilla would not be cheated. She sent a Guards colonel to Lollia's house and he made sure that she killed herself. He duly reported her death, but Agrippinilla was not satisfied. `Bring me her head,' she ordered. The head was brought to her at the Palace. Agrippinilla took it by the hair and, holding it up to a window, opened the mouth. `Yes, that's Lollia's head, all right,' she said complacently to me as I came into the room. `Here are those gold teeth that she had put in by an Alexandrian dentist to fill out her sunken left cheek. What coarse hair she had, like a pony's mane. Slave, take this thing away. And the mat too: have the bloodstains scrubbed out.'

Agrippinilla also removed her sister-in-law Domitia Lepida, Messalina's mother. Domitia Lepida was very attentive to Nero now and used to invite him frequently to her house, where she caressed and flattered him, and gave him a good time and reminded him of all that she had done for him when he was a penniless orphan. It was true that she had occasionally taken charge of him when her sister Domitia went out of town and could not be bothered to take the child with her. Agrippinilla, finding that her own maternal authority, which was based on sternness, was being threatened by Domitia Lepida's auntish indulgences, had her accused of publicly cursing my marriage-bed and also of failing to restrain the slaves on her estate in Calabria from dangerous rioting: a magistrate and two of his staff who attempted to restore order there had been set on and beaten, and Domitia Lepida had locked herself up in the house and done nothing. I allowed her to be sentenced to death on these two charges (the first of which was probably a fabrication) because I was now aware of the assistance she had given Messalina in the Appius Silanus affair and other deceptions practised on me.

One act only of Agrippinilla's I found it hard to take philosophically. When I heard of it I confess that tears came into my eyes. But it would have been foolish for old King Log to have gone back on his resolution at this point, and roused himself and taken vengeance. Vengeance cannot recall the dead to life again. It was 1 the murder of my poor Caipurnia. and her friend Cleopatra that made me weep. Someone set fire to their house one night and the two were trapped in their beds and burned to death. It was, made to look like an accident; but it was clearly murder. Pallas, who told me about it, had the insolence to suggest that it was done by some friend of Messalina's who knew the part that Calpurnia had played in bringing her to justice. I had been most neglectful of Calpurnia. I had not visited her once since that terrible afternoon. At my private order a handsome marble tomb was erected for her on the ruins of the burned villa, and on it I put a Greek epigram. It was the only one that I have ever composed except as a school exercise: but I felt that I had to do something out of the ordinary to express my great grief for her death and my gratitude for the ; love and, devotion she had always shown me. I wrote:

`A harlot's love, a harlot's lie'

Cast that ancient proverb by.

CALPURNIA's heart was cleaner far,

Roman matrons, than yours are.

Last year, the year of Nero's marriage, was marked by a world failure of crops that all but exhausted our granaries. This year, though the harbour of Ostia was now completed, a, strong northeast wind blowing for .weeks on end prevented the Egyptian and African corn fleets from making our shores. The. Italian harvest promised well, but was not yet ready to cut, and at one time there was only a fortnight's corn supply left in the public granaries, though I had done everything possible to fill them. I was obliged to reduce corn rations to the lowest possible level. Then, as though I was not doing and had not always done everything possible to keep my fellow citizens well fed (building the harbour, for instance, in the face of general discouragement, and organizing the daily supply of fresh vegetables), I suddenly found myself regarded as a public enemy. I was accused of purposely starving the City. The crowd groaned and howled at me almost whenever I showed myself in public, and once or twice pelted me with stones and mud and mouldy crusts. On one occasion I narrowly escaped serious injury in the Market Place: my yeomen were set upon by a mob of 200 or 300 persons and had their rods of office broken over their own backs. I only just managed to get safely into the Palace by a postern gate not far off, from which a small party of armed Guardsmen dashed out to my rescue. In the old days I would have taken this greatly to heart. Now I just smiled to myself. `Frogs,' I thought, `you are getting very frisky.'

Nero put on his manly-gown, in the year after his adoption by me. I allowed the Senate to vote him the privilege of becoming Consul at the age of twenty, so at sixteen he was Consul-Elect. I awarded him honorary triumphal dress and appointed him Leader of Cadets, as Augustus had appointed his grandsons, Gaius and Lucius. In the Latin holidays, too; when the Consuls and other magistrates were out of the City, I made him City Warden as Augustus had also done with his grandsons, to give them a' first taste of magistracy. It was customary to bring no important cases before the City Warden, but to wait for the return of the proper magistrates. Nero, however, managed a whole series of complicated cases which would have tested the judgement of the most experienced legal officers in the City, and gave remarkably shrewd decisions. This gained him popular admiration, but it was perfectly clear to me, as soon as I heard about it, that the whole affair had been stage-managed by Seneca. I do not mean that the cases were not genuine, but Seneca had reviewed them carefully before hand and arranged with the lawyers as to just what points they should bring out, in their speeches, and had then coached Nero in, his cross-examination of witnesses and his summing-up and judgement. Britannicus had not yet come of age. I kept him from the society of boys of his own age and rank as much as possible: he only met them under the eye of his tutors. I did not wish him to catch the Imperial infection to which I was purposely subjecting Nero. I let it go about that he, was an epileptic. Public flattery was all, concentrated now on Nero. Agrippinilla was delighted. She thought that I hated Britannicus for his mother's sake.

There was a big riot about the sale of bread. It was a quite unnecessary riot, though, and according to Narcissus, who loathed Agrippinilla (and found to his surprise that I encouraged him: in this), it was instigated by her. It happened when I was suffering from a chill, and Agrippinilla came to my room and suggested that I should issue an edict to reassure and quiet the populace, She wanted me to say that I was not seriously ill and that, even if my illness took a serious turn and I died, Nero was now capable of conducting public affairs under her guidance. I laughed in her face. `You are asking me to sign my own death warrant, my dear? Come on, then, give me the pen. I'll sign it. When's the funeral to be?'

'If you don't wish to sign it, don't, she said. `I'm not forcing you.' `Very well, then, I won't,' I said. 'I'll inquire into that bread riot and see who really started it.'

She walked angrily out. I called her back. `I was only joking. Of course I'll sign ! By the way, has Seneca taught Nero his funeral oration yet? Or not yet? I'd like to hear it first, if none of you mind.'

Vitellius died of a paralytic stroke. A senator who was either drunk or crazy, I can't say which, had suddenly accused him before the House of aiming at the monarchy. The charge appears to have been directed at Agrippinilla, but naturally no one dared to support it, much as Agrippinilla was, hated, so the accuser was himself outlawed. However, Vitellius took the matter to heart and the stroke followed soon after. I visitedhim as

he lay dying. He was unable to move a finger but talked quite good sense. I asked him the question that I had always meant to, ask: `Vitellius, in a better age you would have been one of the most virtuous men alive: how was it, then, that your upright nature acquired a sort of permanent stoop from playing the courtier?'

He said `It was inevitable under a monarchy, however benevolent the monarch. The old virtues disappear. Independence and frankness are at a discount. Complacent anticipation of the monarch's wishes is then the greatest of all virtues. One must either be a good monarch like yourself, or a good courtier like myself either an Emperor or an idiot.'

I said: 'You mean that people who continue virtuous in an old-fashioned way must inevitably suffer in times like these?'

'Phaemon's dog was right.' That was the last thing he said before he lapsed into a coma from which he never recovered.

I could not be content until I had hunted down the reference in the library. It appears that Phaemon the philosopher had a little dog whom he had trained to go to the butcher every day and bring back a lump of meat in a basket. This virtuous creature, who would never dare to touch a scrap until Phaemon gave it permission, was one day set upon by a pack of mongrels who snatched the basket from its mouth and began to tear the meat to pieces and bolt it greedily down. Phaemon, watching from an upper window saw the dog deliberate for a moment just what to do. It was clearly no use trying to rescue the meat from the other dogs: they would kill it for its pains. So it rushed in among them and itself ate as much of the meat as it could get hold of. In fact, it ate more than any of the other dogs, because it was both braver and cleverer.

The Senate honoured Vitellius with a public funeral and statue in the Market Place. The inscription that is carved on it reads:

LUCIUS VITELLIUS, TWICE CONSUL, ONCE CENSOR. HE ALSO GOVERNED SYRIA. UNSWERVINGLY LOYAL TO HIS EMPEROR

I must tell about the Fucine Lake. I had lost all real interest in it by now, but one day Narcissus, who was in charge of the work, told me that the contractors reported that the channel was dug through the mountain at last: we had only to raise the sluice-gates and let the water rush out, and the whole lake would become dry land. Thirteen years, and 30,000 men constantly at work! `We'll celebrate this, Narcissus,' I said.

I arranged a sham sea-fight, but on a most magnificent scale. Julius Caesar had first introduced this sort of spectacle at Rome, exactly 100 years before. He dug a basin in Mars Field, which he flooded from the Tiber, and arranged for eight ships, called the Tyrian fleet, to engage eight more, called the Egyptian fleet. About 2,000 fighting men were used, exclusive of rowers. When I was eight years old Augustus gave a similar show in a permanent basin on the other side of the Tiber, measuring 1,200 feet by 1,800, with stone seats around it like an amphitheatre. There were twelve ships a side this time, called Athenians and Persians:. Three thousand men fought in them. My show on the Fucine Lake was going, to dwarf both spectacles. I didn't care about economy now. I was going to have a really magnificent show for once. 'Julius' and ‘Augustus's fleets had been composed of light craft only, but I gave orders for twenty-four proper war vessels of three banks of oars each to be constructed, and twenty-six smaller vessels; and I cleared the prisons of 1,900 able-bodied criminals to fight in them; under the command of famous professional sword-fighters. The, two fleets, each consisting of twenty-five vessels, were to be known, as the Rhodians and the Sicilians. The hills around the lake would make a fine natural amphitheatre; and though it was a very long way from Rome, I was sure that I could draw an audience there of at least 200,000 people. I advised them by an official circular to bring their own food with them in baskets. But 1,900 armed criminals are a dangerous force, to handle. I had to take the whole Guards Division out there and station some of them on shore and. the rest on rafts lashed together across the lake. The line of rafts was a semicircle which made a proper naval basin of the southwestern end of the lake, where it tapered to the point at which the channel had been cut. The whole lake would have been too big: it spread over 200 square miles. The Guards on the rafts had catapults and mangonels ready to sink any vessel that tried to ram the line and escape.

The great occasion finally came; I proclaimed a ten-days public holiday. The weather was fine and the number of spectators was more like 500,000 than 200,000. They came from all over Italy, - and I must say that it was a wonderfully well-behaved and well dressed gathering. To prevent overcrowding, I divided up the lake shore into what I called colonies and put each colony under a magistrate; the magistrates had to make arrangements for communal cooking and sanitation' and so on. I built a large canvas field-hospital for the wounded survivors of the battle and for accidents on shore. Fifteen babies were born in that hospital and I made them all take the additional name of Fucinus or Fucina.

Everything was in position by ten o'clock on the morning of the fight. The fleets were manned and came rowing up in parallel lines towards the President, namely, myself, who was sitting on a high throne dressed in a suit of golden armour with a purple cloak over it. My throne was at a point where the shore curved out into-the lake' and gave the widest view. Agrippinilla sat beside me on an other throne, wearing a long mantle of cloth of gold. The two flagships came close up to us. The crew shouted: `Greetings, Caesar. We salute you in Death's shadow.'

I was supposed to nod gravely, but I was feeling in a gay humour that morning. I answered: `And the same to you, my friends.'

The rascals pretended to understand this as a general pardon. 'Long live Caesar,' they shouted joyfully. I did not at the moment realize what they meant. The combined fleets sailed past me cheering and then the Sicilians formed up on the west and the Rhodians on the east. The signal for battle was given by a mechanical silver Triton that suddenly appeared from the lake-bottom, when I pressed a lever and blew a golden trumpet. That caused huge excitement among the audience. The fleets met, and expectation ran high. And then - what do you think happened then? They simply sailed through each other, cheering me and congratulating each other! I was angry. I jumped down from my throne and rushed along the shore shouting and cursing. `What do you think that I got you all here for, you scoundrels, you scum, you rebels, you bastards? To kiss each other and shout loyal shouts? You could have done that just as well in the prison-yard. Why don't you fight? Afraid, eh? Do you want to be given to the wild beasts instead? Listen, if you don't fight now, by God, I'll make the Guards put up a show. I'll make them sink every one of your ships with their siege-engines and kill every man Jack who swims ashore.'

As I have told you, my legs have always been weak, and one is shorter than the other, and I am not accustomed to use them much, and I am old and' rather stout now, and besides all this I was wearing an extremely heavy corselet, and the ground was uneven, so you can imagine what sort of a figure I cut - stumbling top-heavily along, with frequent falls, shouting at the top of my, not very melodious voice, red and stuttering with anger! However, I succeeded in making them fight, and the spectators cheered me with, 'Well done, Caesar! Well run, Caesar!'

I recovered my good humour and joined in the laugh against myself. You should have seen the murderous look on Agrippinilla's face. `You boor,' she muttered as I climbed back on my throne. `You idiotic boor. Have you no dignity? How do you expect the people to respect you?'

I answered politely : `Why, of course, as your husband, my dear, and as Nero's father-in-law.'

The fleets met. I shall not describe the battle in. much detail, but both sides fought splendidly. The Sicilians rammed and sank nine of the big Rhodian vessels, losing three of their own, and then cornered the remainder close to where we were sitting and boarded them one by one. The Rhodians repelled them time and time again, and the decks were slippery with blood, but finally they were beaten and by three o'clock the Sicilian flag was run up on the last vessel. My field hospital was full. Nearly 5,000 wounded were carried ashore. I pardoned the remainder, except the survivors of three big Rhodian vessels who had not put up a proper fight before being rammed, and six of the Sicilian lighter craft who had consistently avoided combat. Three thousand men had been killed or drowned. When I was a lad I couldn't bear the sight of bloodshed. I don't mind it at all now: I get so interested in the fighting.

Before letting the water out of the lake I thought that I had better satisfy myself that the channel was deep, enough to carry it off. I sent out someone to take careful soundings in the middle of the lake. He reported that the channel would have to be dug at least a yard deeper if we were not to be left with a lake a quarter of its present size! So the whole spectacle had been wasted. Agrippinilla blamed Narcissus and accused him of fraud. Narcissus blamed the engineers who, he said, must have been bribed by the contractors to send in a false report as to the depth of the lake, and protested that Agrippinilla was being most unjust to him.

I laughed. It didn't matter. We had witnessed a most enjoyable show and the channel could be dug to the proper' depth within a few months. Nobody was to blame, I said probably there had been a natural subsidence of the lake-bottom. So we all went home again and in four months' time back we came. On this occasion I did not have enough criminals available for a big sea-battle, and did not wish to repeat the spectacle on a smaller scale, so I had another idea. I built a long, wide pontoon-bridge across the end of the lake and arranged for two forces of two battalions apiece, called Etruscans and Samnians, appropriately dressed and armed, to fight on it. They marched towards each other along the bridge, to the accompaniment of martial music, and engaged in the centre, where the bridge widened out to 100 yards or so, and there fought a vigorous battle. The Samnians twice took possession of this battle-field, but Etruscan counter-attacks forced them back and eventually the Samnians were on the run, losing heavily, some run through by bronze-headed Etruscan' lances or chopped down by two-headed Etruscan battle-axes, some thrown off the bridge into the water. My orders were that no combatant must be permitted to swim ashore. If he was thrown into the water he must either drown or climb back on the bridge. The Etruscans were victorious and erected a trophy. I gave all the victors their freedom, and a few of the Samnians, too, who had fought particularly well.

Then at last the moment came for the water to be let out of the lake. A huge wooden dining-hall had been erected close to the sluice-gates and the tables-were spread with a magnificent luncheon for me and the Senate, and the families of senators, and a number of leading knights and their families, and all senior Guards officers. We would dine to the pleasant sound of rushing water. `You're sure that the channel is deep enough now?' I asked Narcissus.

'Yes, Caesar. I've taken the soundings myself.'

So I went to the sluice-gates and sacrificed and uttered a prayer or two - they included an apology to the nymph of the lake, whom I now begged to act as guardian deity of the farmers who would till the recovered land - and finally lent a hand to the crank at which a group of my Germans was posted, and gave the order, `Heave away!'

Up came the gates and the water rolled crashing into the channel. An immense cheer went up. We watched for a minute or two and then I said to Narcissus: 'Congratulations, my dear Narcissus. Thirteen years' work' and thirty thousand - '

I was interrupted by a roar like thunder, followed by a general shriek of alarm.

`What's that?' I cried.

He caught me by the arm without ceremony and fairly dragged me up the hill. `Hurry!' he screamed. `Faster, faster!' I looked to see what was the matter, and a huge brown-and-white wall- of water, I wouldn't like to say, how many feet high, on the model of the one that runs yearly up the Severn River in Britain, was roaring up the channel. Up the channel, mark you! It was some time before I realized what had happened. The sudden rush of water had overflowed the channel a few hundred yards down, forming a large lake in a fold of the hills. Into this lake, its foundations sapped by the water, slid a whole hillside, hundreds of thousands of tons of rock, completely filling it and expelling the water with awful force.

All but a few, of us managed to scramble to safety, though with wet legs - only twenty persons were, drowned. But the dining chamber was torn to pieces and tables and couches and food and garlands carried far out into the lake. Oh, how vexed Agrippinilla was! She blazed up at Narcissus, telling him that he had arranged the whole thing on purpose to conceal the fact that the channel was still not dug deep enough, and accused him of putting millions of public money into his own pocket, and Heaven only knows what else besides.

Narcissus, whose nerves were thoroughly upset now, lost his temper too and asked Agrippinilla who she thought she was -Queen Semiramis? or the Goddess Juno? or the Commander-inChief of the Roman Armies? `Keep your paws out of this pie,' he screamed at her.

I thought it all a great joke. `Quarrelling won't give us back our dinners,' I said.

I was more amused than ever when the engineers reported that it would take two more years to cut a new passage through the obstruction. `I'm afraid that I'll not be spared to exhibit another fight on these waters, my friends,' I said gravely. Somehow, the whole business seemed beautifully symbolic. Labour in vain, like all the industrious work that I had done in my early Years of monarchy as a gift to an undeserving Senate and People. The violence of that wave gave me a feeling of the deepest satisfaction. I liked it better than all the sea-fighting and bridge-fighting.

Agrippinilla was complaining that a precious set of gold dishes from the Palace had been. carried away by the wave and only a few pieces recovered: the others were at the lake-bottom. `Why, that's nothing to worry about,' I teased. `Listen! You take off those beautiful shining clothes of yours - I'll see that Narcissus doesn't steal them - and I'll make the Guards keep the crowd back and you can give a special diving display, from the sluice-gate. Everyone will enjoy that tremendously: they like nothing so much as the discovery that their rulers are human after all. But, my, dear, why not? Why shouldn't you? Now, don't lose your temper. If you can dive for sponges, you can dive for gold dishes, surely? Look that must be one of your treasures over there, shining through the water, quite easy to get. There, where I'm throwing this pebble!'

To console Agrippinilla for her losses, I gave her, some days later, a very valuable present a snow-white nightingale, the first ever reported of that colour. Narcissus, as an apology for his rudeness, gave her a talking blackbird. The blackbird talked- almost as well as a parrot, and the white nightingale sang quite as well as the ordinary brown sort. Agrippinilla could not easily conceal her delight .in these birds. My family, by the way, has always shown a weakness for pet animals. There was Augustus with his watchdog, Typhon; Tiberius with his wingless dragon; Caligula with the horse Incitatus. My: sister Livilla kept a thievish, mischievous marmoset; my brother Germanicus a black squirrel, and my mother Antonia a large pet carp, This fish would answer to its name, which was `Leviathan', swimming up from its lair among the water-lilies in its pool and allowing my mother to feed and tickle it. It was a present from Herod Agrippa, who had fixed a little pair of jewelled ear-rings in its gills. She used to claim that when it opened and shut its mouth it was addressing her, and that she understood it. I never had a pet myself. I have always felt that in these cases one gives more than one gets, and there is a temptation to believe the creature both more affectionate and more sagacious than it really is.

Chapter 32

IT is now September in the fourteenth year of my reign. Barbillus has lately read my horoscope and fears that I am destined to die about the middle of next month. Thrasyllus once told me exactly the same thing for he allowed me' a life of sixty-three years, sixty-three days, sixty-three watches, and sixty three hours. That works out to the thirteenth of next month. Thrasyllus was more explicit about it than Barbillus: I remember that he congratulated me on this combination of multiplied seven and nines: it was a very remarkable one, he said. Well, I am prepared to die. In court this morning I begged the lawyers to behave with a little more consideration for an old man; I said that next year I shouldn't be among them, and they could treat my successor as they pleased. I also told the court, in the case of a noblewoman charged with adultery, that I had now been married several times, and that each of my wives in turn had proved bad, and that I had showed them indulgence for, a while, but not for long: so far I had divorced three. Agrippinilla will get to hear of Nero is seventeen. He goes about with the affected modesty of a high-class harlot, shaking his scented hair out of his eyes; every now and then; or with the affected modesty of a high-class philosopher, pausing to ponder privately, every now and then, in the middle of a, group of admiring, noblemen - right foot thrown out, head sunk on breast, left arm akimbo, right hand raised, with the finger tips pressing lightly on his forehead as if in the throes of thought. Soon he comes out with a brilliant epigram or a happy couplet or a profound piece of sententious wisdom; not however his own Seneca is earning his porridge, as the saying is. I wish Nero's friends joy of him. I wish Rome joy of him; I wish Agrippinilla joy of him, and Seneca too. I heard privately, by way of Seneca's sister (a secret friend of Narcissus's who gives us a lot of useful, information about the nation's latest darling), that the night before Seneca received my order for his recall from. Corsica he dreamed that he was acting as, schoolmaster to Caligula. I take that as a sign.

On New Year's Day this year I called Xenophon to me and thanked him for keeping me alive so long. I then fulfilled my, promise to him, though the agreed fifteen years term is not yet over, and won from the Senate a perpetual exemption from taxes and military service of his native island of Cos. In my speech I gave the House a full account of the lives and deeds of the many famous physicians of Cos, who all, claim direct descent from the God Aesculapius, and learnedly discussed their various therapeutic practices; I ended up with Xenophon's father, who was my father's field-surgeon in his German wars, and with Xenophon himself, whom I praised above them all. Some days later Xenophon asked permission to remain with me a few years longer. He did not put his request in terms of loyalty or gratitude or affection, though I have done much for him - what a curiously unemotional man he is! but on the grounds of the convenience of the Palace as a place for medical research! The fact was that when I paid Xenophon this honour I was

counting on him to help me carry out a plan that called for the utmost secrecy and discretion. It was a debt that I owed to myself and to my ancestors: it was nothing less than the rescue of my Britannicus. Let me now clearly show why I deliberately preferred Nero to him, why I gave him so old-fashioned an education, why I guarded him so carefully from the infection of, the court, from contact with vice and flattery. To begin with, I knew that Nero is fated to rule as my successor, carrying on the cursed business of monarchy, fated to plague Rome and earn everlasting hatred, to be the last of the mad Caesars. Yes, we are all mad, we Emperors. We begin sanely, like Augustus and Tiberius and even Caligula (though he was an evil character, he was sane; at first) and monarchy turns our wits. `After Nero's death surely the Republic will be restored,' I argued; and it was my intention that Britannicus should be the one to restore it. But how was Britannicus to live through the reign of Nero? Nero would surely put him to death if he remained at Rome, as Caligula had put Gemellus to death. Britannicus must be removed, I decided, to some safe place where he could grow up virtuously and nobly like a Claudian of ancient times, and keep alight in his heart the fire of true-liberty.

`But the world is now wholly Roman, with the exception of Germany, the East, the Scythian deserts' north of the Black Sea, unexplored Africa, and the farther parts of Britain: so where can my Britannicus be safe from Nero's power?' I asked myself. `Not in Parthia or Arabia: there could be no worse choice. Not in Germany: I have never loved the Germans. For all their barbaric virtues they are our natural enemies. Of Africa and Scythia I know little. There is only one place for a Britannicus, and that is Britain, The northern Britons are racially akin to us. Queen Cartimandua of the Brigantians is my ally. She is a noble and wise ruler and at peace with my province of South Britain. Her chieftains are brave and courteous warriors. Her young stepson, who is her heir, is coming here in May, accompanied by a band of young nobles and noblewomen, as my guests at the Palace. I shall make Britannicus his host and secretly bind the two together in blood-brotherhood, according to the British rite. These Brigantians will remain here for the entire summer. When they sail back (and I shall send them back by long sea, from Ostia direct to their port in the Humber) Britannicus will go with them in disguise. He will, have his face and body stained blue, and will be dressed in the red smock and tartan trousers of a young Brigantian nobleman, with gold chains around his neck. Nobody will recognize him. I shall load the Brigantian prince with gifts and bind him with the holiest possible oaths to keep Britannicus safe, and to hide his identity from everyone but the Queen. He will bind his companions with the same oaths. At Cartimandua's court Britannicus will be presented as a young Greek of illustrious birth, whose parents have died and who has been left penniless and who has come to seek his fortune in Britain. At Rome he will not be missed. I shall give' out that he is unwell, and Xenophon and Narcissus will assist me in the fraud: Presently I shall announce his death. Xenophon has a written order from me giving him the-right to claim the body of any dead slave in the hospital on the island of Aesculapius for use as a subject for dissection. (He is writing a treatise on the muscles of the heart.) He can surely find a suitable corpse to offer as Britannicus's._ At. Cartimandua's court Britannicus will grow to manhood: he will teach the Brigantians the useful arts that I have been at pains to have him taught. If he bears himself modestly he will never want for friends there. Cartimandua will permit him to worship his own gods. He will avoid the society: of Romans. On Nero's death he will reveal himself and return as the saviour of his, country.'

It was an excellent plan and I did all I could to put it into execution. When the Brigantian prince arrived, Britannicus was his host, and formed a close friendship with him. Each taught the other his own language and the use of his country's weapons. They worked and played together all summer long. They bound themselves by the blood-rite, unprompted by any suggestion of mine, and exchanged gifts. I was pleased that things were going so well. I told Xenophon and Narcissus of my plan. They undertook to help me. They made all arrangements. But see what has happened! All my ingenuity has been wasted.,

Three days ago Narcissus brought Britannicus to me, very early in the morning, when all the Palace was asleep. I embraced him with a warmth that I had abstained from showing him for years. I explained to him why it was that I had treated him as I had done. It was not cruelty or neglect, I said, but love. I quoted to him the Greek line that Augustus had quoted to me just before his death: `Who wounded thee, shall make thee whole.' I told him of the prophecy and of my desire to save from the wreckage of Rome the person whom I most loved - himself. I reminded him of the fatal history of our family and begged him to fall in with my plan; in which lay his only chance of survival.

He listened attentively and finally burst out: `No, Father, not Father, I confess that I have hated you ever since my mother's death. I thought the very worst of you. To me you were a pedant; a coward, and a fool, and I was ashamed to be known as your son. I see now that I misjudged you and I ask your pardon. But no, I cannot do what you ask, me to do. It is not honourable. A Claudian should not paint his face blue and hide away among barbarians. I am not afraid of Nero: Nero is a coward. Let me put on my manly-gown this New Year. I will still be only thirteen, but you can forgive me the extra year: I'm tall and strong for my age. Once I am officially a man I'll be a match for Nero in spite of the start you've given him, and in spite of his mother. Make us your joint-heirs and then we'll see which of us two gets the upper hand. It is my right as your son. And I don't believe in the Republic, anyway. You can't reverse the course of history. My great-grandmother Livia said that, and it's true. I love the days of old, as you do, but I'm not blind. The Republic's dead, except for old-fashioned people like you and Sosibius. Rome is an Empire now and the choice only lies between good Emperors and bad ones. Make me joint-heir with Nero and I'll, defy the prophecies. Keep alive a few years longer, Father, for my sake. Then when you die, I'll step into your shoes and rule Rome properly. The Guards love me and trust me. Geta and Crispinus have told me that when you're dead they'll see that I become Emperor, not Nero. I'll be a good Emperor, just as you were until you married my stepmother. Give me proper tutors. My present ones are no use to me. I want to study public speaking, I want to understand finance and legal procedure, I want to learn how to be an Emperor!'

He was not to be dissuaded by anything that I could say, nor even by my tears. Now I have abandoned all hope of his rescue : no doctor can save a patient's life against his determined will to die. Instead, I have done all that he asks of me, like an indulgent father. I have dismissed Sosibius and the other tutors and appointed new ones. I have promised to let him come of age this New Year and am altering my will in his favour; in my previous will he was hardly mentioned. To-day I have made the Senate my farewell speech and humbly recommended Nero and Britannicus to them, and given these two a long and earnest exhortation to brotherly love and concord, calling the House to witness that I have done so. But with what irony I spoke! I knew as certainly as that fire is hot and ice cold that my Britannicus was doomed, and that it was I who was giving him over to his death, and cutting off, in him, the last true Claudian of the ancient stock of Appius Claudius. Imbecilic I.

My eyes are weary, and my hand shakes so much that I can hardly form the letters. Strange portents have been seen of late. A great comet like that which foretold the death of Julius Caesar has long been blazing in the midnight, sky. From Egypt a phoenix has, been reported. It flew there from Arabia, as its custom, is, followed by a flock of admiring other birds. I can hardly think that it was a true phoenix, for that appears only once every 1,461 years, and only 250 years have elapsed since it was last genuinely reported from Heliopolis in the reign of the third Ptolemy; but certainly it was some sort of phoenix. And as if a phoenix and comet were not sufficient marvels, a centaur has been born in Thessaly and brought to me at Rome (by way of Egypt where the Alexandrian doctors first examined it), and I have handled it with my own hands. It only lived a single day, and came to me preserved in honey, but it was an unmistakable centaur, and of the sort which has a horse's body, not the inferior sort which has an ass's body. Phoenix, comet, and centaur, a swarm of bees among the standards at the Guards Camp, a pig farrowed with claws like a hawk, and my father's monument struck by lightning! Prodigies; enough, soothsayers?

Write no more now, Tiberius Claudius, God of the Britons, write no more.

Three Accounts

of Claudius's Death

I

AND not long after this he wrote his will and signed it with the seals of all the head-magistrates. Whereupon, before that he could proceed any further, prevented he was and cut short by Agrippina, whom they also who were privy to her and of her counsel, yet nevertheless informers, accused besides all this of many crimes. And verily it is agreed upon generally by all, that killed he was by poison, but where it should be, and who gave it, there is some difference. Some write that as he sat at a feast in the Capitol castle with the priests, it was presented unto him by Halotus, the eunuch, his taster; others report that it was at a meal in his own home by Agrippina herself, who had offered unto him a mushroom empoisoned, knowing that he was most greedy of such meats. Of those accidents also which ensued hereupon the report is variable. Some say that straight upon the receipt of the poison he became speechless, and continuing all night in dolorous torments died a little before day. Others affirm that at first he fell asleep, and afterwards, as the meat flowed and floated aloft, vomited all up, and so was followed again with a rank poison. But whether the same were put into a mess of thick gruel (considering he was of necessity to be refreshed with food being emptied in his stomach), or conveyed up by a clyster, as if being overcharged with fullness and surfeit he might be eased also by this kind of egestion and purgation, it is uncertain.

His death was kept secret until all things were set in order about his successor. And therefore both vows were made for him as if he had lain sick still, and also comic actors were brought in place colourably to solace and delight him, as having a longing desire after such sports. He deceased three days before the ides of October, when Asinius Marcellus and Acilius Aviola were consuls, in the sixty-fourth year of his age and the fourteenth of his empire. His funeral was performed with a solemn pomp and procession of the magistrates, and canonized he was a saint in heaven; which honour, forelet and abolished by Nero, he recovered afterwards by Vespasian.

Especial tokens there were presaging and prognosticating his death: to wit, the rising, of a hairy star which they call a comet; also the monument of his father Drusus was blasted with lightning; and for that in the same year most of the magistrates of all sorts were dead. But himself seemeth not either to have been ignorant that his end drew near or to have dissembled so much; which may be gathered by some good arguments and demonstrations. For both in the ordination of Consuls he appointed none of them to continue longer than the month wherein he died, and also in the Senate, the very last time that ever he sat there, after a long and earnest exhortation of his children to concord, he humbly recommended the age of them both to the lords of that honourable house; and in his last judicial session upon the tribunal once or twice he pronounced openly that come he wasnow to

the end of his mortality, notwithstanding that they that heard him grieved to hear such an osse, and prayed the gods to avert the same.

Suetonius Claudius_

Tr. Philemon Holland (1606)

II

In the midst of this vast accumulation of anxieties Claudius was attacked with illness, and for the recovery of his health had recourse to the soft air and salubrious waters of Sinuessa. It was then that Agrippina, long since bent upon the impious deed, and eagerly seizing the present occasion, well furnished too as she was with wicked agents, deliberated upon the nature of the poison she would use, whether, if it were sudden and instantaneous in its operation, the desperate achievement would not be brought to light: if she chose materials slow and consuming in their operation, whether Claudius, when his end approached, and perhaps having discovered the treachery, would not resume his affection for his son. Something of a subtle nature was therefore resolved upon, `such as would disorder his brain and require time to kill. An experienced artist in such preparations was chosen, her name Locusta; lately condemned for poisoning, and long reserved as one of the instruments, of ambition. By this woman's skill the poison was prepared: to administer it was assigned to Halotus, one of the eunuchs, whose office it was to serve up the emperor's repasts, and prove the viands by tasting them.

In fact, all the particulars of this transaction were soon afterwards so thoroughly known, that the writers of those times are able to recount, how the poison was poured into a dish of mushrooms, of which he was particularly fond; but whether it was that his senses were stupefied, or from the wine he had drunk, the effect of the poison was not immediately perceived: at the same time a relaxation of the intestines seemed to have been of service to him; Agrippina therefore became dismayed but as her life was at stake, she thought little of the odium of her present proceedings, and called in the aid of Xenophon the physician,

whom she had already implicated in her guilty purposes. It is believed that he, as if he purposed to assist Claudius in his efforts to vomit, put down his throat a feather besmeared with deadly poison; not unaware that in desperate villainies the attempt without the deed is perilous, while too ensure the reward they must be done effectually at once.

The senate was in the meantime assembled and the consuls and pontiffs were offering vows for the recovery of the emperor, when, already dead, he was covered with clothes, and warm applications, to hide it till matters were arranged for securing the empire to Nero. First there was Agrippina, who feigning to. be overpowered with grief, and anxiously seeking for consolation, clasped Britannicus in her arms, called him 'the very model of his father', and by various artifices withheld him from leaving the chamber; she likewise detained Antonia and Octavia, his sisters; and had closely guarded all the approaches to the palace; from time to time too she gave out that the prince was on the mend; that the soldiery might entertain hopes till the auspicious moment, predicted by the calculations of the astrologers, should arrive.

,At last, on the thirteenth day of October, at noon, the gates, of the palace were suddenly thrown open, and Nero, accompanied by Burrhus, went forth to the cohort which, according to the custom, of the army, was keeping watch. There, upon a signal made by the praefect, he was received with shouts of joy, and instantly put into a litter. It was reported, that there were some who hesitated, looking back anxiously, and frequently asking, where was Britannicus? but as no one came forward to oppose ft, they embraced the choice which was offered them. Thus Nero was borne to the camp; where, after a speech suitable to, the exigency, and the promise of a largess equal to that of the late emperor his father, he was saluted emperor. The voice of the soldiers was followed by the decrees of the senate; nor was there any hesitation in the several provinces. To Claudius were decreed divine honours, and his funeral obsequies were solemnized with the same pomp as those of the deified Augustus; Agrippina emulating the magnificence of her great-grandmother Livia. His will, however, was not rehearsed, lest the preference of the son of his wife to his own son might excite the minds of the people by its injustice and baseness.

Tacitus, Annals

(Oxford translation)

III

Claudius was angered by Agrippina's actions, of which he was now becoming aware, and sought for his son Britannicus, who had purposely been kept out of his sight by her most of the time (for she was doing . everything she could to secure the throne for Nero, inasmuch as he was her own son by her former husband Domitius); and he displayed. his affection whenever he met the boy. He would not endure her behaviour, but was. preparing to put an end to her power, to cause his son to assume the toga virilis, and to declare him heir to the throne. Agrippina, learning of this, became alarmed and made haste to forestall anything of the sort by poisoning Claudius. But since, owing to the great quantity of wine he was for ever drinking and his general habits of life, such as all emperors as a rule adopt for their protection, he could not easily be harmed, she sent for a famous dealer in poisons, a woman named Locusta, who had recently been convicted on this very charge; and preparing with her aid a poison whose effect was sure, she put it in one of the vegetables called mushrooms. Then she herself ate of the others, but made her husband eat of the one which contained the poison; for it was the largest and finest of them. And so the victim of the plot was carried from the banquet apparently quite overcome by strong drink, a thing that had happened many times before; but during the night the poison took effect and he passed away, without having been able to say or hear a: word. It was. the thirteenth of October, and he had lived sixty-three years, two months and thirteen days, having been emperor thirteen years, eight months and twenty days.

Agrippina was able to do this deed owing to the fact that she had previously sent Narcissus off to Campania, feigning that he needed to take, the- waters there for his gout. For had he been present, she would never have accomplished it, so carefully did he guard his master. As it was, however, his death followed hard upon that of Claudius. He was slain beside the tomb' of Messalina, a circumstance due to mere chance, though it seemed to be in fulfilment of her vengeance.

In such a manner did Claudius meet his end. It seemed as if this event had been indicated by the comet, which was seen for a very long, time, by the shower of blood, by the thunderbolt that fell upon the standards of the Praetorians, by the opening of its own accord of the temple of Jupiter Victor, by the swarming of bees in the Camp, and by the, fact that one incumbent of each political office died. The emperor received, the state burial and all the other honours that had been accorded to Augustus. Agrippina and Nero pretended to grieve for the man whom they had killed, and elevated to heaven him whom they had carried out on a litter from the banquet. On this point Lucius Junius Gallio, the brother of Seneca, was the author of a very witty remark. Seneca himself had composed a work that he called `Pumpkinification' - a word formed on the analogy of `deification'; and his brother is credited with saying' a great deal in one short sentence. Inasmuch as the public executioners were accustomed to drag the bodies of those executed in the prison to the Forum with large hooks, and from there hauled them to the river, he remarked that Claudius had been raised to heaven with a hook. Nero, too, has left us a remark not unworthy of record. He declared mushrooms to be the food of the gods, since Claudius by means of the mushroom had become a god.

At the death of Claudius the rule in strict justice belonged to Britannicus, who was a legitimate son of Claudius and in physical development was in advance of his years; yet by law the power fell also to Nero because of his adoption. But no claim is stronger than that of arms; for everyone who possesses superior force always appears to have the greater right on his side, whatever he says or does. And thus Nero, having first destroyed the will of Claudius and having succeeded him as master of the whole empire, put Britannicus and his sisters out of the way.. Why, then, should one lament the misfortunes of the other victims?

Dio Cassius, Book Lm

as epitomized by Xiphilinus and Zonaras (tr. Cary)

The Pumpkinication of Claudius

A SATIRE IN PROBE AND VERSE

BY LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA

I MUST here put on record what took place in Heaven on the thirteenth day of October of this very year, the year that has ushered in so glorious a now age. No malice or favour whatsoever. That's right, isn't it? If anyone asks me how I get my information, well, in the first place if I don't want, to answer, I won't answer. Who is going to compel me to do so? I am a free man, aren't I? I was freed on the day that a well-known personage died, the man who made the proverb true, 'Either be born an Emperor or an idiot'. If I do, however, choose to answer, I shall say the first thing that springs to my lips. Are historians ever compelled to produce witnesses in court to swear that they have told the truth? Still, if it were absolutely necessary for me to call on someone, I would call on the man who saw Drusilla's soul on its way to Heaven; he will swear that he saw Claudius taking the same road, 'with halting gait' (as the poet says). That man simply cannot help observing everything that goes on in Heaven: he's the custodian of the Appian Way, which of course is the road that both Augustus and Tiberius took on their way to join the Gods. If you ask him privately he will tell you the whole story, but he will say nothing when a lot of people are about. You see, ever since he swore before the Senate that he saw Drusilla going up to Heaven, and nobody believed the news, which was certainly a little too good to be true, he has solemnly engaged himself never again to bear witness to anything he has seen - not even if he sees a man murdered in the middle of the Market Place. But what he told me I now report, and all good luck to him.

Great Phoebus had drawn in his daily course,

And longer stretched the darksome hours of sleep.

The conquering Moon enlarged had her domain

And squalid Winter from rich Autumn now Usurped the throne.

To Bacchus the command Was 'Grow thou old!'

and the late vintager

Gathered the few last clusters of the grape.

You will probably understand me better if I say plainly that the month was October and the day the thirteenth. I cannot, however, be so precise about the hour - one can expect an agreement between philosophers sooner than between clocks but it was between twelve noon and one o'clock in the afternoon. `You're not much of a poet, Seneca,' I can hear my readers say. `Your fellow-bards, not content with describing dawn and sunset, work themselves up about the middle of the day too. Why do you neglect so poetical an hour?' Very well, then:

Phoebus had parted the wide heavens in twain

And somewhat wearily 'gan shake the reins,

Urging his chariot nightwards: down the slope

Of day the grand effulgence, waning, slid.

It was then that Claudius began to give up the ghost, but couldn't bring the matter to a conclusion. So Mercury, who had always derived great pleasure from Claudius's wit, took one of the three Fates aside and said: `I consider, Madam, that you are extremely cruel to allow the poor fellow to suffer so. Is he never to have any relief from torture? It's sixty-four years now since he first started gasping to keep alive. Have you some grudge against him and against Rome? Please let the astrologers be right for once: ever since he became Emperor they have laid him out for burial regularly once a month. However, they can't really be blamed for getting the hour of his death wrong, because nobody was ever quite sure whether he had really been born or not. Get on with the business, Clotho:

Slay him, and instead let a worthier rule.'

Clotho replied: `I did so wish to give him just a little longer, just enough time to make Roman citizens of the few outsiders who still remain: he had set his heart, you know, on seeing the whole world dressed in the white gown - Greece, France, Spain, even Britain. Still, if you think that a few foreigners ought to be kept for breeding purposes, and you really order me to put an end to him, it shall be done.' She opened her box and produced three spindles: one was for Augurinus, one for Baba, and the third for Claudius. `These are to die in the same year quite close to each other, because I don't want him to go off unattended it would be very wrong for him to be suddenly left alone, after always having had so many thousands marching before him and trailing behind him, and crowding up against him from either side. He will be grateful for these two friends of his as travelling companions.'

She spoke, and round the ugly spindle twined

The thread of that fool's life, then snapped it close.

But Lachesis, her tresses neatly prinked

And on her brow Pierian laurel set,

Plucks from a fleece new threads as white as snow

Which, as she draws' them through her happy hand,

Change hue. Her sisters at the marvel gaze. Not common wool,

this, but rich thread of gold,

That runs on, century by century,

Termless. They pluck; the fleeces with good will.

Rejoicing in their task, so dear the wool:

Nay, the thread spins itself, no task for them,

And as the spindle turns, drops silken down,

Passing Tithonus' lengthy count of years

(Aurora's husband) and old Nestor's count.

Phoebus attends, and from a hopeful breast

Chants as they work, and plucks upon his lyre

And otherwhiles himself assists the task.

Thus the Three Sisters hardly know they spin;

Too close intent on the sweet strains they hear,

And rapt with praise of their great brother's song,

They spin more than the fated human span.

Yet Phoebus cries: 'My Sisters, be it thus

Cut no years short from this illustrious life,

For he whose life you spin, my counterpart,

Yields not to me either in face or grace

For beauty, nor for sweetness in his song.

He is it, who'll restore the age of gold

And break the ban has silenced all the laws.

He is sweet Lucifer who puts to flight

The lesser stars; or Hesperus is he

Who swims up clear when back the stars return;

Nay, rather he's the Sun himself, what time

The blushing Goddess of the Dawn leads in

The earliest light of day, dispersed the shades

The Sun himself with shining countenance

Who pores upon the world, and from the gates

Of his dark prison whirls his chariot out.

A very Sun is NERO and all Rome

Shall look on NERO with bedazzled eyes,

His face ashine with regal majesty

And lovelocks rippling on his shapely neck.'

Apollo had spoken.

But Lachesis, who had an eye for a handsome man herself,

went on spinning and spinning

and bestowed a great many years

more on NERO as her own personal gift.

As for Claudius, they tell everyone to

Be of good cheer, and from these halls

Speed him with not impious lips.

And he really did bubble up the ghost at last,

and that was the end even of the old pretence

that he was alive.

(He passed away while listening to a performance given by some comedians,

so now you know that I have good cause to be wary, of the profession.) The last words that he was heard to utter in this world followed immediately upon a tremendous noise from the part of his body with which he always talked most readily. They were: `0 good Heavens, I believe I've made a mess of myself!' Whether this was actually so or not, I cannot say: but everyone agrees that he always made a mess of things.

It would be waste of time to relate what afterwards happened or earth. You all know, very well what happened. Nobody forgets his own good luck, so there's no fear of your ever forgetting the popular outburst of joy that followed the news of Claudius's death. But let me tell you what happened in Heaven; and if you don't believe me, there's my informant to confirm it all. First, a message came to Jove that someone was at the gate, a tallish man, with white hair; he seemed to be uttering some threat or other because he kept on shaking his head; and when he walked he- dragged his right foot.. He had been asked his nationality and had answered in a confused nervous manner, and his language could not be identified. It was not Greek or Latin or any other known speech. Jove told Hercules, who had once travelled over the whole earth and so might be expected to know all nations in it, to go and find out where the stranger came from. Hercules went, and though he had never been daunted by all the monsters in the world, he really got quite a shock at the sight of this new sort of creature, with its curious mode of progression and its raucous inarticulate voice, which was like that of no known terrestrial animal but suggested some strange beast of the sea. Hercules thought that his Thirteenth Labour was upon him. However, he looked more closely and decided that it was some kind of a man. He went up to it and said what a Greek naturally would say:

Most honoured stranger, let me now demand Thy name, thy lineage, thy paternal land.

Claudius was pleased to find himself among literary men. He hoped to find some niche in Heaven for his historical works. So he replied with another quotation, also from Homer, which conveyed the fact that he was Claudius Caesar:

The winds my vessel bore From ravaged Troy to the Ciconian shore.

But the next verse was much truer and just as Homeric:

And boldly disembarking there and then, I sacked a, city, murdering all its men.

And he would have made Hercules, who is not particularly brightwitted, take this literally, if there had not been someone in attendance on Claudius - the Goddess Fever. She alone of the Gods and Goddesses of Rome had left her temple and come along with him. And what she said was: `The man's lying. I can tell you everything about him, because I have lived with him for very many years now. He was born at Lyons, a fellow citizen of Marcus's. Yes, a native Celt, born at the sixteenth milestone from Vienne: so of course he conquered Rome, as any good Celt would. I give you my honest word that he was born at Lyons - you know Lyons, surely? It's the place where Licinus was king for so long. Surely you know Lyons, you who have covered more miles in the course of your travels than any country carrier? And you must know, too, that it's a long way from the Lycian Xanthus to the Rhone.' .This stung Claudius, and he registered his anger in the loudest roar he could command. Nobody could make out exactly what he was saying, but as a matter of fact he was ordering the Goddess Fever to be removed from his presence and making the customary sign with his trembling hand (always steady enough for that, though for practically nothing else) for her head to be cut off But for all the attention that was paid to this order you might have thought that the people present were his own freedmen.

Hercules' said: `Now listen to me, you, and stop making a fool of yourself. Do you know what sort of place this is? It's where mice nibble holes in iron, that's the sort of place it is. So let's have your story straight, or I'll spill some of that nonsense from a hole in the top of your head.' To impress his personality on Claudius still more strongly, he struck a melodramatic attitude and began rolling out the following lines:

Quick, the whole truth! Where were you born and why? Tell me at once, or with this club you die,. That's cracked the skull of many a dusky king.; (What's that? Speak up! I can't make out a thing.) Where did you, get that wiggly-waggly head? Is there a town where freaks like you are bred? But stay, once in the course of my tenth quest (I had to travel out to the far West And bring back with me to a town of Greece. The oxen of three-bodied Geryones), I noticed a large hill, which when he rises The very first thing that the Sun God spies is. I mean the place where headlong-tumbling Rhone Is met by shallow, wandering Saone, Most vague of streams - the town between these two, Tell me was it responsible for you?

His delivery was most bold and animated, but all the same he had little

confidence in himself' and feared the `fool's blow', as the saying is.

However, Claudius, finding himself face to face with a big hero like Hercules, changed his tone, and began to realize that what he said herb; did not have anything like the same force as at Rome; that a cock, in fact, is worth most on its own dung-hill. So this is what he said, or at least what he was understood to say: `O Hercules, bravest of all the Gods, I had hoped you would stand by me; and when your fellow Gods called for someone to vouch for me, you were the person I was: going to name. And you know me very well really, don't you? Think for a moment. I'm the man who used to sit judging cases in front of your temple day after day, even in July and August, the hottest months of the year. You know what a miserable time I had there, listening to the barristers talking on and on all day and night. If you had fallen among that lot, though you're the strongest of the strong, I'm sure you'd have much preferred to clean out the Augean stables again. I reckon that I drained away far more sewage than you did. But since I want ...'

[Some pages are missing here. A group of Gods all talking together are now addressing Hercules: he has forcibly introduced Claudius, whom he has consented to champion, into the Heavenly Senate.]

You even burgled' Hell once and went off with Cerberus on your back: so it's not surprising that you managed to burst your way into this House. No lock could ever keep you out.'

`- But just tell us, what sort of a God do you want this fellow to be made? He can't be a God in the Epicurean style: for Diogenes Laertius'; says: "God is blessed and incorruptible and neither takes trouble nor causes trouble to anyone." As for a Stoic God, that sort, according to Varro, is a perfectly rounded whole - in fact completely globular without either a head or sexual organs. He can't be that sort.'

`- Or can he? If you ask me, there is something' of the Stoic God about him: he has no head, and no heart either.'

`- Well, I swear that even if he had addressed this petition to Saturn instead of Jove he would never have been granted it - though when he was alive he kept Saturn's All Fools Festival going all the year round,a truly Saturnalian Emperor'.

`- And what sort of a chance do you think he has with Jove, whom he as good as condemned for incest? I mean, he killed his son-in-law Silanus just because Silanus had a sister, the most delightful girl in the world, whom everyone called Queen Venus, but he preferred to call Juno.'

Claudius said: `Yes, why did he do it? I want to know why. Really, now his own sister!'

`-Look it up in the book, stupid! Don't you know that you may sleep with your half-sister at Athens, and that at Alexandria it can be a whole one?'

`Well, at Rome,' said Claudius, `mice are just mice. They lick meal. '

Is this drawing-master teaching us to improve our curves? Why, he doesn't even know what goes on in his own bedroom.'

`- And now he's conning the secret realms of sky and wanting to be a God.'

`A God, eh? I suppose he isn't satisfied with his temple in Britain where the savages worship him and humbly pray "Almighty Fool, have mercy upon us!" '

It occurred to Jove that senators were not allowed to debate while strangers were present in the House. `My Lords,' he said, `I gave you permission to cross-examine this person, but by the noise you are making anyone would mistake this for the cheapest sort of knocking-shop. Please observe the rules of the House. I don't know who this person is, but whatever will he think of us?'

So Claudius was taken out again and Father Janus was called upon to open the debate. He had been made Consul for the afternoon of July 1st next, and was a brilliant fellow, with a pair of eyes in the back of his head.' He had a temple in the Market Place, so naturally he made a splendid speech: but it was too fast for the official recorder to take down, so I will not attempt to report it in full, not wishing to distort anything he said. At any rate, his theme was the Majesty of the Gods and that one ought not to cheapen Godhead by random distribution of the honour. `It was a great thing once to be a God,' he said, `but now you've brought it down to the level of jumping-beans. I don't want you to think that I am speaking against the deification of any one particular man; I am speaking quite generally; and to make this clear I move that, from now on, Godhead be conferred on none of those who, in Homer's phrase,

eat the harvest of the field,

nor yet of those whom, again in a phrase of Homer's,

nourishes the fruitful soil.

After my motion has been voted on and pronounced law, it should be made a criminal offence for any man to be made, displayed, or portrayed as a God, and any offender against the law should, I suggest, be handed-over to the Hobgoblins and at the next Public Show be flogged with a birch among the new sword-fighters.'

The next to be called upon was Diespiter, the Underground God, son of Vica Pota, the God of Victory. He had been chosen for the Consulship and was a professional moneylender: he also used to sell citizenships in a quiet way. Hercules went up to him with a friendly smirk and whispered something in his ear, so he came out with the following speech: `The God Claudius is related to the God Augustus. The Goddess Augusta,'' whom he deified himself, is his grandmother; so, as he is by far the most learned man who has ever lived, and since as a matter of public policy someone ought to join the God Romulus in

eating boiled turnips with a will,

I propose that the God Claudius be regularly enrolled among the Olympians and enjoy the privileges and perquisites of Godhead in its fullest traditional sense, and that a note to that effect be inserted in Ovid's Metamorphoses.'

The House, was divided, and it looked as though Claudius would -', carry a majority of votes; because Hercules saw that he had a good chance now and went rushing about from one bench to another saying: .I, `Now, please don't oppose me. I am personally interested in this measure. If you vote my way now, I'll do as much for you some other day. You know the proverb, "Hand washes hand."'

Then the God Augustus arose, for it was now his turn, and spoke with the greatest eloquence. 'I call on' you,, my Lords, to witness that ever since the day of my official deification I have not uttered a single word. I always mind my own business. But now I cannot keep up the pretence of impartiality any longer, or conceal the sorrow which shame makes deeper still. Was it for this that I made peace over land and sea, and put a truce to Civil War, and endowed Rome with a new constitution, and embellished her with stately public buildings, that ... that ... that ... Words fail me, my Lords. Nothing that I might: utter could possibly match the depth of my feelings in this matter. In, my indignation I must, borrow a phrase from the eloquent Messala Corvinus he was elected City Warden and resigned after a few days, saying "I am ashamed of my authority''. I feel the same: when I see how the authority that I established has been abused I am ashamed of ever having exercised it. This fellow, my Lords, who looks as though he hadn't guts - enough to worry a fly, sat in my place and called himself by my name and ordered men off to execution just as easily as a dog squats. But I won't speak of all his victims, fine men though they were: I am so preoccupied with family disasters that really I have no time to waste over public ones. I'll only speak about family disasters,' then, because "a radish* may know no Greek, but I do": I at least know one Greek proverb, "The knee is nearer than the shin." This impostor, this pseudo-Augustus, has done me the kindness of killing two great-granddaughters' of mine, Lesbia with the sword and Helen by starvation. And one great grandson, Lucius Silanus. (Here I expect you, my Lord Jove, to be fair in a bad cause, which after all is your own.) Now answer me, you God Claudius, why did you condemn; so many men and women to death without first calling on them to defend themselves? What sort of justice is that? Is it the sort that is done in Heaven? Why, here's Jove has been Emperor all these centuries and never did more than once: break Vulcan's leg:

Whom seizing by the foot, his anger high, He flung over the threshold of the sky, and once lose his temper with his wife and string her up. Did he ever actually kill a single member of his family? But you, you killed Messalina, your wife, whose grand-uncle I was as much as yours. ("Did I really?' you ask. A thousand plagues on you, of course you did! That makes it all the more disgraceful: you go about killing people and don't even know it.) Yes, my Lords, and he went on persecuting my great-grandson Gaius Caligula even when he was dead. It's true that Caligula killed his father-in-law, but Claudius, not content with following his example in that, killed a son-in-law too. And whereas Caligula would not allow young Pompey, Crassus Frugi's son, to take the title 'The Great', Claudius gave him his name back, but took off his head. In that one noble family he killed Crassus Frugi, young Pompey, Scribonia, the Tristionias, and Assario: Crassus, I own, was such a fool that he might almost have been made Emperor instead of Claudius. Do you really want this creature made a real God? Look at his body, born under the wrath of Heaven; and when it comes to that, listen to his talk! Why, if he can say as many as three words on end without stuttering over them, he can have me for a slave! Who is going to worship; a God of this sort? Will anyone believe in him? If you turn people like him into Gods, you can't expect anyone to believe in you. In brief, my Lords, if I have earned your respect, if I have never given any mortal too definite an answer to his prayer, I count on you to avenge my wrongs. So my motion is - he read it out from his notes - that insomuch as a certain God Claudius has killed his father-in-law Appius Silanus; his two sons-in-law, Pompey the Great and Lucius Silanus; his daughter's father-in-law Crassus Frugi (a man who resembled him as closely as one egg resembles another); Scribonia, his daughter's mother-in-law; his wife Messalina; with others too numerous to mention - I hereby move that he should be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law, that he should be refused bail; that he should be sentenced to immediate banishment, being allowed no more than thirty days to leave Heaven, and thirty hours to leave Olympus.'

A division was hurriedly taken and the motion. carried. As soon as the result was known Mercury seized, Claudius by the throat and dragged him off to Hell,

Whence none, 'tis said, returns to tell the tale.

As they came down along the Sacred Way, Mercury asked what all those crowds of people meant. Surely it wasn't Claudius's funeral? It was certainly a most marvellous procession and no expense had been spared to show that it was a God who was being buried. Flute music, blaring of horns, a great brass band made up of all sorts of instruments, - such a terrific noise, in fact, that even Claudius was able to hear it., Every face was wreathed in smiles: the whole Roman populace was walking about like free men again. Only Agatho and a few amateur banisters were in tears, and for once really meant it. The professional lawyers were slowly crawling out of dark corners, pale and gaunt, hardly alive, but reviving with every breath they drew. One of them, when he saw Agatho's group condoling with one another, came up to them, and said, 'I told you so. This All Fools' Festival had to come to an end some day or other.'

When Claudius saw his funeral go by, he understood at last that he was dead. A great choir was chanting his dirge in antiphonal chorus:

Weep, 0 Roman, beat thy breast,

Mournful be thy Market Place,

We bear a wise man to his rest,

The bravest, too, of all thy race.

With swift foot he could outrun

Any courser in the land:

He could the rebel Parthian stun,

No Persian might his darts withstand.

With steady grasp he bent his bow:

Away they streamed in headlong packs.

Slight was the wound, yet the Medes show

In rout their ornamental backs.

He sailed across an unknown sea

And into Britain's island strode: He battered down the shields, did he,

Of the Brigantians, blue with woad.

He chained them with a Roman chain,

Then with the Roman rods and axe

He disciplined the Ocean main

And took its tenor for a tax.

Mourn for the judge who could provide

Quick sentences to marvel at:

Who only listened to one side,

Who could, dispense with even that.

Where shall another such be found,

To sit and judge the whole year through?

Minos the Cretan, underground,

Must now resign his bench to you.

You barristers, who have your price,

Weep, and all small poets, weep,

And weep, you rattlers of the dice

Whom cogging does in plenty keep.

Claudius was charmed by this panegyric, and wanted to stay to see the show through to the end. But Mercury, the trusted messenger of the Gods, pulled him away, first muffling his head so that nobody should recognize him, and-took-him across Mars Field and finally down to Hell between the Tiber and the Subway. His freedman Narcissus had gone down ahead by a short cut, ready to receive him on his arrival, and now came smiling forward, fresh from a bath and exclaiming: 'Gods! Gods come to visit us mortals! What may I have the honour...?'

'Go and tell them that we're here. And hurry up about it.'

At this order of Mercury's Narcissus darted off. The road to Hell's gate is all downhill and, as Virgil remarks somewhere, very easy going; so though Narcissus was suffering from gout it only took him a moment to arrive. Before the gate lay Cerberus or, as I think Horace calls him, 'the five-score-pated-beast'.' Narcissus was no hero: he was used to a little white lapdog bitch, and when he saw this enormous shaggy black cur, not at all the sort of animal you- would like to meet in a dark place like Hell, he was thoroughly scared. He gave his message, `Claudius is here,' in a loud yell.

For answer there came a burst of cheering and out marched a troop of ghosts. They were chanting the well-known song:

He's found, he's found l

Let joy resound! 0 clap; your hands,

The lost is found!

The choir included Gaius Silius, Consul-Elect, Juncus the ex-magistrate Sextus Traulus, Marcus Helvius, Trogus, Cotta, Vettius Valens, Fabius - Roman knights whom Narcissus had ordered for execution: Mnester the comedian was there, whose appearance Claudius had improved by the removal of his head: Hell was buzzing now with the news of Claudius's arrival and everyone ran for Messalina. His freedmen, Polybius, Myron; Harpocras, Amphaeus, and Pheronactus were the first. Claudius had sent them all on ahead here, not wanting to be unescorted anywhere. Then, came two Guards Commanders, Catonius Justus and-Rufrius Pollio. Then his friends Saturninus Lusius, Pedo Pompey and the two Asinius brothers, Lupus and Celer. Finally came Lesbia, his brother's daughter, and Helen, his sister's daughter, and sons-in-law and fathers-in-law-and mothers-in-law the entire family in fact. They formed up and marched off in a body to meet Claudius. Claudius stared at them and exclaimed in surprise, `Why, what a lot of friends! How in the world did you all get here?' Pedo answered: `How did we get here indeed, you bloodthirsty villain! How dare you ask us that? Who sent us here but you yourself, the man who kills all his friends? We're going to prosecute you now, so come along. I'll show you the way to the Criminal Courts.'

Pedo brought him into Aeacus's court; Aeacus was the judge, who tried murder cases under the Cornelian Law. Pedo requested him to take the prisoner's name and then filled in the charge-sheet:

Senators murdered: 35.

Knights, Roman, murdered: 221.

Other persons: impossible to keep accurate records.

Claudius applied for counsel, but nobody volunteered to act for him. At last out stepped Publius Petronius, an old drinking friend who could talk the Claudian language quite well, and claimed a remand. Aeacus refused to grant it, so Pedo Pompey began his speech for the prosecution, shouting at the top of his voice. Counsel for the defence attempted to reply, but Aeacus, who is a most conscientious judge, ruled him out of order, and summed up on the case as presented by the prosecution. Then he pronounced:

As the rascal did, he must

Himself be done by. And that's just.

An extraordinary silence followed. Everyone was amazed at the decision, which was considered to be entirely, without precedent. Claudius himself, of course, could have quoted precedents, but thought it monstrously unjust nevertheless. Then there was a long argument about the sort of punishment he ought to be awarded. Some said that Sisyphus had been rolling his stone up that hill quite long enough now, and some said that Tantalus ought to be relieved before he died of thirst, and some again said that it was time for a drag to be put on the wheel on which Ixion was perpetually being broken. But Aeacus decided not to let, off any of these old hands for fear Claudius might count on getting a similar respite himself some day. Instead, some new sort of punishment had to be instituted: they must think of some utterly senseless task conveying the general idea of a greedy ambition perpetually disappointed. Aeacus finally, delivered the sentence, which was that Claudius should rattle dice for ever in a dice-cup with no bottom to it.

So the, prisoner began working out his sentence at once, fumbling for the dice as they fell and never getting any further with the game.

Ay, for so often as he shook the cup

And ready sat to cast them on the board,

The dice would vanish through the hole beneath.

Then would he gather them again,

and seek To rattle them and cast them as before.

But still they cheated him, and cheated him,

Retiring through the bottom of the cup.

And when once more he stooped to pick them up.

They slipped between his fingers and escaped,

And endlessly continued to escape

As when his rock with labour infinite

Sisyphus rolls unto Hell's mountain-peak

But down it comes, rebounding on his neck.

Suddenly who should come in but Gaius Caligula. 'Why, that's a slave of mine, said Caligula. 'I claim him!' He produced witnesses who testified that they had often seen him flogging Claudius with whips and birch-rods, and knocking him about with his fists. So the claim was allowed, and Claudius was handed over to his master. However, Caligula made a present of him to Aeacus, and Aeacus handed him over to his freedman Menander, who set him the task of keeping the court records.

[Trans. by R. G.]

SEQUEL

Seneca was forced to commit suicide in A.D. 65 at Nero's orders. He survived most of the other characters in this story. Britannicus was poisoned in A.D. 55. Pallas, Burrhus, Domitia, the surviving Silanuses, Octavia, Antonia, Faustus Sulla - all met violent deaths. Agrippinilla lost her hold on Nero after the first two years of his reign, but regained it for a while by allowing him to commit incest with her. He then tried to murder her by sending her to sea in a collapsible ship which broke in two at a considerable distance from the coast. She swam safely ashore. Finally he sent soldiers to kill her. She died courageously, ordering them to stab her in the belly which had once housed so monstrous a son. When in A.D. 68 Nero was declared a public enemy by the Senate and killed by a servant at his own request, no member of the Imperial family was left to succeed him. In A.D. 69, a year of anarchy and civil war, there were four successive Emperors: namely, Galba, Otho, Aulus Vitellius, and Vespasian. Vespasian ruled benevolently and founded the Flavian dynasty. The Republic was never restored.

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