Claudius the God (67 page)

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 swordfighters.’

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 motherin-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, O 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!
Let joy resound!
O 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.]

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.