I, TIBERIUS CLAUDIUS DRUSUS NERO GERMANICUS This-that-and-the-other (for I shall not trouble you yet with all my titles) who was once, and not so long ago either, known to my friends and relatives and associates as "Claudius the Idiot", or "That Claudius", or "Claudius the Stammerer2", or "Clau-Clau-Claudius" or at best as "Poor Uncle Claudius", I am now about to write this strange history of my life starting from my earliest childhood and continuing year by year until I reach the fateful point of change where, some eight years ago, at the age of fifty-one, I suddenly found myself caught in what I may call the "golden predicament" from which I have never since become disentangled.
This is not by any means my first book: in fact literature and especially the writing of history-which as a young man I studied here at Rome under the best contemporary masters-was, until the change came, my sole profession and interest for more than thirty-five years. My reader must not therefore be surprised at my practised style.
Indeed Claudius himself who is writing this book, and no secretary of his, and not one of those official annalists, either, to whom public men are in the habit of communicating their recollections, in the hope that elegant writing will eke4 out meagreness of subject-matter and flattery soften5 vices6. In the present work, I swear by all the Gods, I am my own mere3 secretary, and my own official annalist:
I am writing with my own hand, and what favour can I hope to win from myself by flattery? I may add that this is not the first history of my own life that I have written. I once wrote another, in eight volumes, as a contribution to the City archives. It was a dull affair, by which I set little store, and only written in response to public request. To be frank, I was extremely busy with other matters during its composition, which was two years ago. I dictated8 most of the first four volumes to a Greek secretary of mine and told him to alter nothing as he wrote (except, where necessary, for the balance of the sentences, or to remove contradictions or repetitions). But I admit that nearly all the second half of the work, and some chapters at least of the first, were composed by this same fellow Polybius (whom I had named myself, when a slave-boy, after the famous historian) from material that I gave him. And he modelled his style so accurately9 on mine that, really, when he had done, nobody could have guessed what was mine and what was his.
It was a dull book, I repeat. I was in no position to criticize the Emperor Augustus, who was my maternal10 granduncle, or his third and last wife, Livia Augusta, who was my grandmother, because they had both been officially deified and I was connected in a priestly capacity with their cults11; and though I could have pretty sharply criticized Augustus's two unworthy Imperial successors, I refrained for decency's sake. It would have been unjust to exculpate12 Uvia, and Augustus himself in so far as he deferred13 to that remarkable14 and-let me say at once-abominable woman, while telling the truth about the other two, whose memories were not similarly protected by religious awe15.
I let it be a dull book, recording16 merely such uncontroversial facts as, for example, that So-and-so married So-and-so, the daughter of Such-and-such who had this or that number of public honours to his credit, but not mentioning the political reasons for the marriage nor the behind scene bargaining between the families. Or I would write that So-and-so died suddenly, after eating a dish of African figs17, but say nothing of poison, or to whose advantage the death proved to be, unless the facts were supported by a verdict of the Criminal Courts. I told no lies, but neither did I tell the truth in the sense that I mean to tell it here. When I consulted this book to-day in the Apollo Library on the Palatine Hill, to refresh my memory for certain particulars of date, I was interested to come across passages in the public chapters which I could have sworn I had written or dictated, the style was so peculiarly my own, and yet which I had no recollection of writing or dictating19. If they were by Polybius they were a wonderfully clever piece of mimicry20 (he had my other histories to study, I admit), but if they were really by myself then my memory is even worse than my enemies declare it to be. Reading over what I have just put down I see that I must be rather exciting than disarming21 suspicion, first as to my sole authorship of what follows, next as to my integrity as an historian, and finally as to my memory for facts. But I shall let it stand; 'tis myself writing as I feel, and as the history proceeds the reader will be the more ready to believe that I am hiding nothing-so much being to my discredit22.
This is a confidential23 history. But who, it may be asked, are my confidants? My answer is: it is addressed to posterity24. I do not mean my great-grandchildren, or my great-great-grandchildren: I mean an extremely remote posterity. Yet my hope is that you, my eventual25 readers of a hundred generations ahead, or more, will feel yourselves directly spoken to, as if by a contemporary: as often Herodotus and Thucydides, long dead, seem to speak to me. And why do I specify26 so extremely remote a posterity as that? I shall explain.
I went to Cumae, in Campania, a little less than eighteen years ago, and visited the Sibyl in her cliff cavern27 on Mount Gaurus. There is always a Sibyl at Cumse, for when one dies her novice28-attendant succeeds; but they are not all equally famous. Some of them are never granted a prophecy by Apollo in all the long years of their service. Others prophesy29, indeed, but seem more inspired by Bacchus than by Apollo, the drunken nonsense they deliver; which has brought the oracle30 into discredit. Before the succession of Deiphobe, whom Augustus often consulted, and Amalthea, who is still alive and most famous, there had been a run "f very poor Sibyls for nearly three hundred years. The cavern lies behind a pretty little Greek temple sacred to Apollo and Artemis-Cumae was an Eolian Greek colony1 There is an ancient gilt31 frieze32 above the portico33 ascribed to Daedalus, though this is patently absurd, for it is no older than five hundred years, if as old as that, and Daedalus lived at least eleven hundred years ago; it represents the story ot Theseus and the Minotaur whom he killed in the Labyrinth34 of Crete. Before being permitted to visit the Sibyl I had to sacrifice a bullock and a ewe there, to Apollo and Artemis respectively. It was cold December weather. The cavern was a terrifying place, hollowed out from the solid rock, the approach steep, tortuous35, pitch-dark and full or bats. I went disguised, but the Sibyl knew me. It must have been my stammer1 that betrayed me. I stammered36 badly as a child and though, by following the advice or specialists in elocution, I gradually learned to control my speech on set public occasions, yet on private and unpremeditated ones, I am still, though less so than formerly37, liable every now and then to trip nervously38 over my own tongue: which is what happened to me at Cumae.
I came into the inner cavern, after groping painfully on all-tours up the stairs, and saw the Sibyl, more like an ape than a woman, sitting on a chair in a cage that hung from the ceiling, her robes red and her unblinking eyes shining red in the single red shaft39 of light that struck down from somewhere above. Her toothless mouth was grinning. There was a smell of death about me. But I managed to force out the salutation that I had prepared. She gave me no answer. It was only some time afterwards that I learned that this was the mummied body of Deiphobe, the previous Sibyl, who had died recently at the age of one hundred and ten; her eye-lids were propped41 up with glass marbles silvered behind to make them shine. The reigning42 Sibyl always lived with her predecessor43. Well, I must have stood fol some minutes in front of Deiphobe, shivering and making propitiatory44 grimaces-it seemed a lifetime. At last the living Sibyl, whose name was Amalthea, quite a young woman too, revealed herself. The red shaft of light failed, so that Deiphobe disappeared-somebody, probably the novice, had covered up the tiny red-glass window-and a new shaft, white, struck down and lit up Amalthea seated on an ivory throne in the shadows behind. She had a beautiful, mad-looking face with a high forehead and sat as motionless as Deiphobe. But her eyes were closed. My knees shook and I fell into a stammer from which I could not extricate45 myself.
"O Sib… Sib… Sib… Sib… Sib…" I began. She opened her eyes, frowned and mimicked46 me:
"O Clau… Clau… Clau…" That shamed me and I managed to remember what I had come to ask. I said with a great effort: "O Sibyl: I have come to question you about Rome's fate and mine."
Gradually her face changed, the prophetic power overcame her, she struggled and gasped47, there was a rushing noise through all the galleries, doors banged, wings swished my face, the light vanished, and she uttered a Greek verse in the voice of the God:
Who groans48 beneath the Punic Curse And strangles in the strings49 of purse, Before she mends must sicken worse.
Her living mouth shall breed blue flies, And maggots creep about her eyes. No man shall mark the day she dies.
Then she tossed her arms over her head and began again:
Ten years, fifty days and three, Clau-Clau-Clau-shall given be A gift that all desire but he.
He shall stammer, cluck and trip,
Dribbling51 always with his lip.
But when he's dumb and no more here,
Nineteen hundred years or near,
Clau-Clau-Claudius shall speak clear.
The God laughed through her mouth then, a lovely yet terrible sound-hoi hoi hoi I made obeisance52, turned hurriedly and went stumbling away, sprawling53 headlong down the first flight of broken stairs, cutting my forehead and knees, and so painfully out, the tremendous laughter pursuing me.
Speaking now as a practised divinei, a professional hisrtorian and a priest who has had opportunities of studying Ac Sibylline54 books as regularized by Augustus, I can interpret the verses with some confidence. By the Punic Curse the Sibyl was referring plainly enough to the destruction of Carthage by us Romans. We have long been under a divine curse because of that. We swore friendship and protection to Carthage in the name of our principal Gods, Apollo included, and then. Jealous of her quick recovery from the disasters of the Second Punic war, we tricked her into fighting the Third Punic war and utterly55 destroyed her, massacring her inhabitants and sowing her fields with salt. "The strings of purse" are the chief instruments of this curse-a money-madness that has choked Rome ever since she destroyed her chief trade rival and made herself mistress of all the riches of the Mediterranean56. With riches came sloth57, greed, cruelty, dishonesty, cowardice58, effeminacy and every other un-Roman vice7. What the gift was that all desired but myself-and it came exactly ten years and fifty-three days later-you shall read in due course. The lines about Claudius speaking clear puzzled me for years but at last I think that I understand them. They are, I believe, an injunction to write the present work. When it is written, I shall treat it with a preservative59 fluid, seal it in a lead casket and bury it deep in the ground somewhere for posterity to dig up and read. If my interpretation60 be correct it will be found again some nineteen hundred years hence. And then, when all other authors of to-day whose works survive will seem to shuffle61 and stammer, since they have written only for to-day, and guardedly, my story will speak out clearly and boldly. Perhaps on second thoughts, I shall not take the trouble to seal it up in a casket: I shall merely leave it lying about, For my experience as a historian is that more documents survive by chance than by intention. Apollo has made the prophecy, so I shall let Apollo take care of the manuscript. As you see, I have chosen to write in Greek, because Greek, I believe, will always remain the chief literary language of the world, and if Rome rots away as the Sibyl has indicated, will not her language rot away with her? Besides, Greek is Apollo's own language.
I shall be careful with dates (which you see I am putting in the margin) and proper names. In compiling my histories of Etruria and Carthage I have spent more angry hours than I care to recall, puzzling out in what year this or that event happened and whether a man named So-and-so was really So-and-so or whether he was a son or grandson or great-grandson or no relation at all. I intend to spare my successors this sort of irritation62. Thus, for example, of the several characters in the present history who have the name of Drusus - my father; myself; a son of mine; my first cousin; my nephew-each will be plainly distinguished63 wherever mentioned. And, for example again, in speaking of my tutor, Marcus Porcius Cato, I must make it clear that he was neither Marcus Porcius Cato, the Censor64, instigator65 of the Third Punic war; nor his son of the same name, the well-known jurist; nor his grandson, the Consul18 of the same name, nor his great-grandson of the same name, Julius Caesar's enemy; nor his great-great-grandson, of the same name, who fell at the Battle of Philippi; but an absolutely undistinguished great-great-great-grandson, still of the same name, who never bore any public dignity and who deserved none. Augustus made him my tutor and afterwards schoolmaster to other young Roman noblemen and sons of foreign kings, for though his name entitled him to a position of the highest dignity, his severe, stupid, pedantic66 nature qualified67 him for nothing better than that of elementary schoolmaster.
To fix the date to which these events belong I can do no better, I think, than to say that my birth occurred in the 744th year after the foundation of Rome by Romulus, and in the 767 year after the First Olympiad, and that the Emperor Augustus, whose name is unlikely to perish even in nineteen hundred years of history, had by then been ruling for twenty years.
Before I close this introductory chapter I have something more to add about the Sibyl and her prophecies. I have already said that, at Cumae, when one Sibyl dies another succeeds, but that some are more famous than others. There was one very famous one, Demophile, whom Eneas consulted before his descent into Hell. And there was a later one, Herophile, who came to King Tarquin and offered him a collection of prophecies at a higher price than he wished to pay; when he refused, so the story runs, she burned a part and offered what was left at the same price, which he again refused. Then she burned another part and offered what was left, still at the same price-which, for curiosity, this time he paid. Herophile's oracles68 were of two kinds, warning or hopeful prophecies of the future, and directions for the suitable propitiatory sacrifices to be made when such and such portents69 occurred. To these were added, in the course of time, whatever remarkable and well-attested oracles were uttered to private persons. Whenever, then, Rome has seemed threatened by strange portents or disasters the Senate orders a consultation70 of the books by the priests who have charge of them and a remedy is always found. Twice the books were partially71 destroyed by fire and the lost prophecies restored by the combined memories of the priests in charge. These memories seem in many instances to have been extremely faulty: this is why Augustus set to work on an authoritative72 canon of the prophecies, rejecting obviously uninspired interpolations or restorations. He also called in and destroyed all unauthorised private collections of Sibylline oracles as well as all other books of public prediction that he could lay his hands upon, to the number of over two thousand. The revised Sibylline books he put in a locked cupboard under the pedestal of Apollo's statue in the temple which he built for the God close, to his palace on the Palatine Hill. A unique book from Augustus's private historical library came into my possession some time after his death. It was called "Sibylline Curiosities: being such prophecies found incorporated in the original canon as have been rejected as spurious by the priests of Apollo". The verses were copied out in Augustus's own beautiful script, with the characteristic mis-spellings which, originally made from ignorance, he ever afterwards adhered to as a point of pride. Most of these verses were obviously never spoken by the Sibyl either in ecstasy73 or out of it, but composed by irresponsible persons who wished to glorify74 themselves or their houses or to curse the houses of rivals by claiming divine authorship for their own fanciful predictions against them. The Claudian family had been particularly active, I noticed, in these forgeries75. Yet I found one or two pieces whose language proved them respectably archaic76 and whose inspiration seemed divine, and whose plain and alarming sense had evidently decided77 Augustus-his word was law among the priests of Apollo-against admitting them into his canon. This little book I no longer haveBut I can recall almost every word of the most memorable78 of these seemingly genuine prophecies, which was recorded both in the original Greek, and (like most of the early pieces in the canon) in rough Latin verse translation. It ran thus:
A hundred years of the Punic Curse
And Rome will be slave to a hairy man,
A hairy man that is scant79 of hair,
Every man's woman and each woman's man.
The steed that he rides shall have toes for hooves.
He shall die at the hand of his son, no son,
And not on the field of war.
The hairy one next to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
He shall have hair in a generous mop.
He shall give Rome marble in place of clay
And fetter80 her fast with unseen chains,
And shall die at the hand of his wife, DO wife,
To the gain of his son, no son.
The hairy third to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of his hairy last.
He shall be mud well mixed with blood"
A hairy man that is scant of hair.
He shall give Rome victories and defeat
And die to the gain of his son, no son-
A pillow shall be his sword.
The hairy fourth to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of his hairy last-
A hairy man that is scant of hair,
He shall give Rome poisons and blasphemies81
And die from a kick of his aged40 horse
That carried him as a child.
The hairy fifth to enslave the State,
To enslave the State, though against his will,
Shall be that idiot whom all despised.
He shall have hair in a generous mop.
He shall give Rome water and winter bread,
And die at the hand of his wife, no wife,
To the gain of his son, no son.
The hairy sixth to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
He 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 gush82 from his tomb.
Now, it must have been plain to Augustus that the first of the hairy ones, that is, the Caesars (for Caesar means a head of hair), was his grand-uncle Julius, who adopted him. Julius was bald and he was renowned83 for his debaucheries with either sex; and his war-charger, as is a matter of public record, was a monster which had toes instead of hooves. Julius escaped alive from many hard-fought battles only to be murdered at last, in the Senate House, by Brutus. And Brutus, though fathered on another, was believed to be Julius's natural son: "Thou too, child!" said Julius, as Brutus came at him with a dagger84. Of the Punic Curse I have already written. Augustus must have recognized in himself the second of the Caesars. Indeed he himself at the end of his life made a boast, looking at the temples and public buildings that he had splendidly re-edified, and thinking too of his life's work in strengthening and glorifying85 the Empire, that he had found Rome in clay and left her in marble. But as for the manner of his death, be must have found the prophecy either unintelligible86 or incredible: yet some scruple87 kept him from destroying it. Who the hairy third and the hairy fourth and the hairy fifth were this history will plainly show; and I am indeed an idiot if, granting the oracle's unswerving accuracy in every particular up to the present, I do not recognize the hairy sixth; refoicing on Rome's behalf that there will be no hairy seventh to succeed him.
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stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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stammerer
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| n.口吃的人；结巴 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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eke
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| v.勉强度日，节约使用 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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cults
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| n.迷信( cult的名词复数 )；狂热的崇拜；（有极端宗教信仰的）异教团体 | |
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exculpate
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| v.开脱，使无罪 | |
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deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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specify
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| vt.指定，详细说明 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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prophesy
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| v.预言；预示 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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propitiatory
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| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
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extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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dribbling
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| n.（燃料或油从系统内）漏泄v.流口水( dribble的现在分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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sibylline
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| adj.预言的；神巫的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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59
preservative
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| n.防腐剂；防腐料；保护料；预防药 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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62
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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censor
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| n./vt.审查，审查员；删改 | |
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instigator
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| n.煽动者 | |
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pedantic
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| adj.卖弄学问的；迂腐的 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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68
oracles
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| 神示所( oracle的名词复数 )； 神谕； 圣贤； 哲人 | |
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portents
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| n.预兆( portent的名词复数 )；征兆；怪事；奇物 | |
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70
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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71
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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72
authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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73
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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74
glorify
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| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
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75
forgeries
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| 伪造( forgery的名词复数 )； 伪造的文件、签名等 | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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fetter
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| n./vt.脚镣，束缚 | |
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81
blasphemies
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| n.对上帝的亵渎，亵渎的言词[行为]( blasphemy的名词复数 )；侮慢的言词（或行为） | |
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82
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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83
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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84
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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85
glorifying
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| 赞美( glorify的现在分词 )； 颂扬； 美化； 使光荣 | |
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86
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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87
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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