Then Jupiter suggested that Hercules, who had travelled the whole world and seemed to know every nation, go and find out where he came from. Hercules was badly shaken at the first glimpse of him, even though he wasn't scared of any monster. When he saw this new type of creature with its strange way of walking, and a voice of no earthly animal - more like a very large sea monster, it was so hoarse and confused - he thought that he was going into his thirteenth labour. When he looked closer, it did seem to be some kind of man. Therefore he went up to it and asked in Homer's language (since it was easiest for him to speak in Greek):
'who are you, of what race, and where your place on earth?'
Claudius was pleased that there were literary men there and hoped that there would be a niche for his own Histories. And so, to show that he was Caesar, he himself used a line from Homer:
`The breeze blew me from Ilium to Thracian shores.'
The line after that one, however, was more appropriate, and equally Homeric:
`Where I destroyed the city and killed all the men.'
And he would have put one over on Hercules, who is a little slow, if the Goddess of Fever had not been there. She was the only one to leave her temple and come with him - he had left all of the others in Rome: `This man is telling you nothing but lies,' she said. 'I'll tell you the truth because I've lived with him all these years. He was born in Lyons. You have before you one of Mark Antony's townsmen. As I say, he was born sixteen miles from Vienne, so he's a thoroughbred Gaul. And so, just like the Gauls are supposed to do, he captured Rome. I assure you that he was born in Lyons, where that extortionist Licinus ruled for many years. You've tramped over more places than any professional muleteer, so you ought to know the people of Lyons, and also that there are many miles between the Scamander and the Rhone.'
At this point Claudius lost his temper and showed his anger as loudly as he could. No one understood what he was saying. In actual fact, he was ordering that Madam Fever be taken away, and making that sign with his shaking hand - steady enough for this one thing, however, when he used to cut men's heads off. What he had ordered was `off with her head,' but you would have thought that they were all his own freedmen, for all the notice they took of him.
`Listen to me,' said Hercules then. `Stop playing the fool. You have come to a place where even the mice nibble iron! Out with the truth, or I'll knock this nonsense out of you.' And to make himself more terrifying, he said in the manner of a tragic actor:
He declaimed these lines with a fair amount of spirit and gusto. All the same, he was not quite in control, and slightly worried about being struck down by the Wrath of Clod. Claudius, when he saw the size of him, forgot his frivolities and realised that although no one was his equal in Rome, here he didn't have quite the same standing - Chanteclere is worth most of all in his own dunghill. As far as it was possible to understand, this is what he seemed to say: `I did hope that you would stand up for me against the others, Hercules, bravest of the gods. If I needed someone to vouch for me, I was going to name you, as you know me the best. If you remember, right through July and August I used to pass judgement in court before your temple. You know what misery I went through there, listening to lawyers day and night. If you had come across these people, however brave you think you are, you would have preferred to clean up the Augean sewers. I had to put up with a lot more shit than you did. But since I want ...'
[There follows a lacuna of several pages. It would appear that Claudius manages to convince Hercules, who takes up his cause in the Senate. There the matter of Claudius's deification is debated, with Claudius himself present at first, although he is removed on the 'I spy strangers' rule later on. J
`It's not surprising that you could force your way into the Senate - nothing is barred to you. Just tell us, what kind of god you wish him to be made. He can't be an Epicurean god, `for they don't bother us, nor we see them.' A Stoic god? How can he be `quite round,' as the philosopher Varro says, `and quite without a foreskin or a head?' I can see now there is something of a Stoic god in him - he doesn't have either a heart or a head. If, Hercules help us, he'd asked this favour from Saturn, he wouldn't have got it, even though he celebrated his festival the whole year round, like a truly Saturnalian emperor. Nor is he going to get it from Jupiter, whom he condemned for incest (insofar as he could). Well, he killed his son-in-law Silanus because the man had a sister - the most charming girl in the world - whom all called Venus. He preferred to call her Juno. Why? I hear you ask. Why his own sister? All I can say is: do your homework, stupid! You can go halfway in Athens and all the way in Alexandria. Just because in Rome you tell me the cats always get the cream, does that mean that this person can straighten things out up here with us? I have no idea what he does in his bedroom, and now he is keeping his eyes peeled for lands in heaven. He wants to become a god. Is it not enough that he has a temple in Britain where barbarians revere him and pray 'Clod have mercy on our souls?'
At last Jupiter remembered that it was not permitted to propose or oppose a motion with members of the public in the House. `Honourable members,' he said. 'I gave you permission to ask questions, but you have turned this place into a veritable bear-garden. I must ask you to observe standing orders. What will this person think of us, whoever he might be?' Claudius was sent out, and the first person to be asked his opinion was Father Janus. He had been made consul-elect from the first afternoon in July and was as shrewd a character as you could want, because he could always see before and behind at the same time. Because he lived in the Forum, he made an eloquent speech, which the secretary could not keep up with. I am therefore not going to try and repeat it verbatim, in case I change the actual words he used. He said much about the greatness of the gods and that it wasn't an honour that ought to be dished out to the proles. 'Once upon a time,' he said. `It was a great thing to become a god. Now you have made it worth less than tuppence. Therefore, so that it doesn't look as though I am speaking against just this one case rather than the principle of the thing, I move that from this day on, divinity be not granted to any of those who, as Homer says, `eat of the fruits provided by the earth,' or those nurtured by Mother Nature. Anyone then who, in contravention of this bill, is declared a god, spoken of as a god or portrayed as a god shall be handed over to the Chief Devils, and at the next public games shall be flogged with the new recruits.'
The next person asked was the son of the goddess Vica Pota, Pluto, god of the underworld and of wealth, also consul-elect and a moneylender. He made his living that way, and had a sideline in selling citizenships. Hercules shimmied up to him and touched him on the ear to remind him that he was speaking for the motion. Pluto expressed his opinion with these words: 'as the divine Claudius is a blood relative of both the divine Augustus and also his godmother, the divine Livia Augusta - whom he personally ordered deified - and as he is brighter than all mortals, and as it will be to the benefit of the state to have another who can `eat his turnips with a will' together with Romulus, I propose that the divine Claudius be made a god from today, and that he be given the honour with as much right as anyone before him. Further, that a note of the matter be inserted into Ovid's Metamorphoses.'
Opinion was divided, and it looked as though Claudius was going to win. For Hercules, who saw that his irons were in the fire, rushed here and there and kept saying: `don't turn me down. I'm putting my neck on the block here. I'll do the same for you next time you want a favour. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.'
Then the divine Augustus got to his feet when his turn to speak came, and he debated with the greatest eloquence. `Honourable members,' he said, `I have you as witnesses that since I was made a god, I have never said a word. I always mind my own business. But I cannot ignore this any longer or hide the grief which my conscience makes all the greater. Was it for this that I brought peace to land and sea? That I put a stop to the civil war? That I introduced laws to Rome and made the city beautiful with buildings, too - I cannot find the words, honourable members. N
o words can equal my indignation. I must therefore fall back on the words of Valerius Messala Corvinus, that most eloquent gentleman, and say `I am ashamed of my authority.' Gentlemen, this person before you, who seems incapable of hurting a fly, killed men as easily as a dog pisses. But why am I talking to you about all these nameless men? There is no time to cry over national disasters when we are contemplating private sorrows. I shall therefore pass over the former, and say only this - for I know Greek, even if my sister doesn't, and charity begins at home! This man you see here, who for so many years has been hiding under my name, did me the favour of killing the two Julias, my granddaughters. One he put to the sword, the other he starved. And a grandson too, Lucius Silanus. You will see, Jupiter, if he had a valid case there - it is definitely one for you to consider, if you are to be fair. Tell me, divine Claudius, why did you condemn all those you killed before you knew the charges and before you heard their defence? Where on earth do people do things that way? It doesn't happen in heaven. Look at Jupiter, who has ruled all these years. Only in the case of Vulcan did he cause him to break his leg, when he
`caught him by the heel, and hurled him from the holy threshold down!'
as Homer puts it. And he was once angry with his wife and hung her up. But did he kill her? You killed Messalina, and I was her great-uncle just as much as I was yours. You didn't know about it, you say? Damn you! Ignorance is worse than killing. He went on harrassing Caligula, even after he was dead. Caligula murdered his father-in-law, Claudius killed his son-in-law as well. Caligula wouldn't let Crassus's son, Pompey, keep the surname 'the Great.' Claudius gave him his name back and took his head instead. In one household alone, he killed Licinius Crassus Frugi, his wife Scribonia and his son Pompey, called Magnus. Fools maybe, but they were aristocrats; in fact, Crassus was such a great fool that he might even have made emperor. And this is the man you want to be made a god? Look at his body, disliked by the gods since birth. All right, let him say three clear words one after the other, and then he can drag me off as a slave. Who is going to worship him as a god? Who will believe in him? No one is going to believe that you are gods, if you make gods out of people like him. In conclusion, gentlemen, if I have lived as an honourable man while I was with you, if I never insulted anybody, then avenge my wrongs. Honourable members, I move.' Then he read from a notebook: 'in as much as the divine Claudius murdered his father-in-law Appius Silanus, his two sons-in-law Pompey Magnus and Lucius Silanus, his daughter's father-in-law Crassus Frugi - a man as identical to him as two peas in a pod - his daughter's mother-in-law Scribonia, his wife Messalina and others too numerous to mention, I propose that he be severely punished, that he be given no stay of judgement, and that he be instantly banished and leave heaven within thirty days and Olympus within three.'
The noes had it. Without delay, Mercury grabbed Claudius by the scruff of his neck and dragged him from heaven to hell, 'the place from which no traveller returns.'
While they were going down the Sacred Way, Mercury asked what was that crowd in front? Was it Claudius's funeral procession? It was a most beautiful sight, with no expense spared so you knew that a god was being buried. Such a noise of trumpeters, horn players and all kinds of brass instruments that even Claudius could hear. Everyone was happy and cheerful, the people of Rome walking around as if they were free. Agatho and a few barristers were crying, but this time it was clearly meant. The barristers were coming out of their dingy corners - pale and thin and with hardly a breath in their bodies. They were like men coming to life again. One, when he saw the barristers huddled together weeping over their fate, went up and said: 'I did say that the party wouldn't last for ever.' When Claudius saw his own funeral he twigged that he was dead. For a huge choir was singing his requiem in rhymed quatrains:
Claudius was delighted to hear his praises sung and wanted to watch for longer. But the divine herald of the gods grabbed him and dragged him across the Campus Martius, first covering his head so that no one would recognise him. Somewhere between the River Tiber and the Via Tecta he went down to hell. Claudius' freedman, Narcissus, had gone down to hell before him, taking a short cut with his own hand, so he could be there to welcome his master. He met him all glistening, because he had just got out of the bath, and asked, `What are the gods doing with men?' `Hurry up,' replied Mercury, `and announce our new arrival.' Narcissus flew off quicker than a flash. It's an easy descent, as it's downhill all the way. Therefore, although he had the gout, he came in a moment to the gate of Dis. There lay Cerberus, or as Horace puts it, `the hundred headed monster.' He was a little worried when he saw the black, shaggy dog - he'd only ever had an off-white mongrel as a pet. It was not the kind of dog you wished to meet in the dark. In a loud voice he said, `Claudius is coming!' With much clapping, people went ahead singing in Greek: `He that was lost is found, therefore let us rejoice.'
There was Gaius Silius, consul-elect, the praetor Juncus, Sextus Traulus Marcus Helvius, Trogus, Cotta, Vettius Valens, Fabius and the Roman knights that Narcissus had ordered executed. In the middle of this singing crowd was Mnester the actor - the one Claudius had cut down to size because of his looks. The news spread quickly that Claudius had arrived and they all milled around Messalina: first of all his freedmen Polybius, Myron, Harpocras, Amphaeus and Pheronactus. Claudius had sent all of these ahead of him so that he would be attended wherever he went. Then came the two prefects, Justus Catonius and Rufrius Pollio; then his friends Saturninus Lusius and Pedo Pompeius, Lupus and Celer Asinius - both of consular standing. Finally his brother's daughter, his sister's daughter, sons-in-law, fathers and mothers-in-law - in fact all of his blood relatives. As one they came to meet Claudius and when he saw them he cried out: `the place is full of friends,' - he said that in Greek -, then: 'how did you all get here?' Then Pedo Pompeius answered: 'What do you mean, you utter bastard? How did we get here? Who else sent us here but you? You murderer of all of your friends. I'll see you in court. I'll show you the bench down here.'
He led him to the tribunal of Aeacus, judge of the dead, who in hell presides over cases according to the Cornelian laws relating to murder. Pedo asked that Claudius' name be taken down; and asked for the following charges to be taken into consideration: thirty five senators and two hundred and twenty one Roman knights - all murdered, plus others `as plentiful as grains of sand upon the shore.' Claudius couldn't find someone to speak for him. At last Publius Petronius, an old sidekick and master of the Claudian style, came forward and demanded the right of reply. Denied.
Pedo Pompeius opened for the prosecution, to great cheers. The counsel for the defense wished to reply. Aeacus turned down the request with complete impartiality, and having heard only one side of the case, passed sentence. `As he did unto others, so let it be done unto him. My will be done.' There was utter silence. Everyone was struck dumb, shocked by this novel turn of affairs. They had never known anything like this before. To Claudius himself it seemed more unfair than unfamiliar. There was a long discussion about what sort of punishment he ought to endure. Some said that Sisyphus had carried stones long enough, others that Tantalus would die of thirst unless relieved, and others that a brake ought to be put on poor old Ixion's wheel. But it was determined that none of these old-timers be pardoned, in case Claudius hoped that something similar might ever happen to him. It was agreed that a new punishment be thought up - some senseless task that would raise desire without any effect. Then Aeacus ordered him to rattle dice in a tumbler with a hole in it. Straight away he began to look for eternally falling dice, getting absolutely nowhere.
Suddenly Caligula turned up and claimed him as his slave. He produced witnesses who said they had seen Claudius being flogged, beaten and generally cudgelled by Caligula in the past. The court found in favour of Caligula, who gave him to judge Aeacus. He gave him to his freedman, Menander, to be his personal assistant.
Tacitus
The Fall of Agrippina
The achievement of her life's ambition in her son's imperial elevation s
eems to have removed all traces of restraint from Agrippina's nature. But her harsh and domineering ways soon began to alienate Nero. His liaison with a beautiful freedwoman, Acte, was used by Seneca and Burrus, his principal advisers, to put further strife and distance between the emperor and his mother. Frantic at her growing loss of power and influence, Agrippina appears to have become increasingly unbalanced. Her attempts to threaten Nero by showing support for Claudius' son Britannicus led to the sudden death of Britannicus while dining at the emperor's table - supposedly by poison. Her attempts to regain her psychological ascendancy became ever more threatening or scandalous, until finally in AD 59 Nero decided they could be tolerated no longer.
The historian Cluvius Rufus tells us that Agrippina's desire to maintain her influential position went so far that at midday, when Nero was usually warm and relaxed from wine and food, she frequently offered herself to the tipsy emperor, dressed up and ready for incest. Soon, passionate kisses and endearments, signs of impending licentiousness, were noticed by those closest to them. Seneca, aiming to counter her feminine wiles by using another female, brought in a freedwoman called Acte, who, although frightened for herself and aware of Nero's terrible reputation, was to make known to him that his mother was glorying in the incest, and that the soldiers would not tolerate this kind of sacrilege in the ruler of the empire. Another historian of the period, Fabius Rusticus, says that it was Nero who wanted it rather than Agrippina, although he does note that it was indeed broken up by the cleverness of that same freedwoman. Other authorities agree with Cluvius's version, however, so that the balance of probability is on that side. Possibly the whole thing was a brainchild of Agrippina's; or perhaps the idea of such a novel lust was simply assumed to be more believable in a woman who had, for the sake of power, had a sexual relationship with Marcus Aemilius Lepidus when she was only a young girl, who had, for similar reasons, become the mistress of Claudius' secretary, Pallas, and who had indulged in every kind of moral turpitude by the fact of her marriage to Claudius himself, who was her uncle on her father's side.
The Dedalus Book of Roman Decadence- Emperors of Debauchery Page 7
