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SENECA

APOCOLOCYNTOSIS

WITH AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY

W.H.D. ROUSE, M.A. LITT. D.

MCMXX

INTRODUCTION

This piece is ascribed to Seneca by ancient tradition; it is impossible

to prove that it is his, and impossible to prove that it is not. The

matter will probably continue to be decided by every one according to

his view of Seneca's character and abilities: in the matters of style

and of sentiment much may be said on both sides. Dion Cassius (lx, 35)

says that Seneca composed an ἀποκολοκύντωσις or Pumpkinification of

Claudius after his death, the title being a parody of the usual

ἀποθέωσις; but this title is not given in the MSS. of the Ludus de

Morte Claudii, nor is there anything in the piece which suits the title

very well.

As a literary form, the piece belongs to the class called

_Satura Menippea_, a satiric medley in prose and verse.

This text is that of Buecheler, with a few trifling changes, which are

indicated in the notes. We have been courteously allowed by Messrs

Weidmann to use this text. I have to acknowledge the help of Mr Ball's

notes, from which I have taken a few references; but my translation was

made many years ago.

W.H.D. ROUSE.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

_Editio Princeps:_ Lucii Annaei Senecae in morte

Claudii Caesaris Ludus nuper repertus: Rome,

1513.

_Latest critical text:_ Franz Buecheler, Weidmann, 1904 (a reprint with

a few changes of the text from a larger work, Divi Claudii

Ἀποκολοκύντωσις in the Symbola Philologorum Bonnensium, fasc. i, 1864).

_Translations and helps:_ The Satire of Seneca on the

Apotheosis of Claudius, by A.P. Ball (with introduction,

notes, and translations): New York:

Columbia University Press; London, Macmillan,

1902.

SENECA

APOCOLOCYNTOSIS, OR LUDUS DE MORTE CLAUDII: THE PUMPKINIFICATION OF

CLAUDIUS.

I wish to place on record the proceedings in heaven 1

October 13 last, of the new year which begins this auspicious age. It

shall be done without malice or favour. This is the truth. Ask if you like

how I know it? To begin with, I am not bound to please you with my answer.

Who will compel me? I know the same day made me free, which was the last

day for him who made the proverb true--One must be born either a Pharaoh

or a fool. If I choose to answer, I will say whatever trips off my tongue.

Who has ever made the historian produce witness to swear for him? But if

an authority must be produced, ask of the man who saw Drusilla translated

to heaven: the same man will aver he saw Claudius on the road, dot and

carry one. [Sidenote: Virg. Aen. ii, 724] Will he nill he, all that happens

in heaven he needs must see. He is the custodian of the Appian Way; by that

route, you know, both Tiberius and Augustus went up to the gods. Question

him, he will tell you the tale when you are alone; before company he is

dumb. You see he swore in the Senate that he beheld Drusilla mounting

heavenwards, and all he got for his good news was that everybody gave him

the lie: since when he solemnly swears he will never bear witness again to

what he has seen, not even if he had seen a man murdered in open market.

What he told me I report plain and clear, as I hope for his health and

happiness.

Now had the sun with shorter course drawn in his risen light, 2

And by equivalent degrees grew the dark hours of night:

Victorious Cynthia now held sway over a wider space,

Grim winter drove rich autumn out, and now usurped his place;

And now the fiat had gone forth that Bacchus must grow old,

The few last clusters of the vine were gathered ere the cold:

I shall make myself better understood, if I say the month was October, the

day was the thirteenth. What hour it was I cannot certainly tell;

philosophers will agree more often than clocks; but it was between midday

and one after noon. "Clumsy creature!" you say. "The poets are not content

to describe sunrise and sunset, and now they even disturb the midday

siesta. Will you thus neglect so good an hour?"

Now the sun's chariot had gone by the middle of his way;

Half wearily he shook the reins, nearer to night than day,

And led the light along the slope that down before him lay.

Claudius began to breathe his last, and could not 3

make an end of the matter. Then Mercury, who had always been much pleased

with his wit, drew aside one of the three Fates, and said: "Cruel beldame,

why do you let the poor wretch be tormented? After all this torture cannot

he have a rest? Four and sixty years it is now since he began to pant for

breath. What grudge is this you bear against him and the whole empire? Do

let the astrologers tell the truth for once; since he became emperor, they

have never let a year pass, never a month, without laying him out for his

burial. Yet it is no wonder if they are wrong, and no one knows his hour.

Nobody ever believed he was really quite born. [Footnote: A proverb for a

nobody, as Petron, 58 _qui te natum non putat._] Do what has to be done:

Kill him, and let a better man rule in empty court."

[Sidenote: Virg. Georg iv. 90]

Clotho replied: "Upon my word, I did wish to give him another hour or two,

until he should make Roman citizens of the half dozen who are still

outsiders. (He made up his mind, you know, to see the whole world in the

toga, Greeks, Gauls, Spaniards, Britons, and all.) But since it is your

pleasure to leave a few foreigners for seed, and since you command me, so

be it." She opened her box and out came three spindles. One was for

Augurinus, one for Baba, one for Claudius. [Footnote: "Augurinus" unknown.

Baba: see Sep. Ep. 159, a fool.] "These three," she says, "I will cause to

die within one year and at no great distance apart, and I will not dismiss

him unattended. Think of all the thousands of men he was wont to see

following after him, thousands going before, thousands all crowding about

him, and it would never do to leave him alone on a sudden. These boon

companions will satisfy him for the nonce."

This said, she twists the thread around his ugly spindle once, 4

Snaps off the last bit of the life of that Imperial dunce.

But Lachesis, her hair adorned, her tresses neatly bound,

Pierian laurel on her locks, her brows with garlands crowned,

Plucks me from out the snowy wool new threads as white as snow,

Which handled with a happy touch change colour as they go,

Not common wool, but golden wire; the Sisters wondering gaze,

As age by age the pretty thread runs down the golden days.

World without end they spin away, the happy fleeces pull;

What joy they take to fill their hands with that delightful wool!

Indeed, the task performs itself: no toil the spinners know:

Down drops the soft and silken thread as round the spindles go;

Fewer than these are Tithon's years, not Nestor's life so long.

Phoebus is present: glad he is to sing a merry song;

Now helps the work, now full of hope upon the harp doth play;

The Sisters listen to the song that charms their toil away.

They praise their brother's melodies, and still the spindles run,

Till more than man's allotted span the busy hands have spun.

Then Phoebus says, "O sister Fates! I pray take none away,

But suffer this one life to be longer than mortal day.

Like me in face and lovely grace, like me in voice and song,

He'll bid the laws at length speak out that have been dumb so long,

Will give unto the weary world years prosperous and bright.

Like as the daystar from on high scatters the stars of night,

As, when the stars return again, clear Hesper brings his light,

Or as the ruddy dawn drives out the dark, and brings the day,

As the bright sun looks on the world, and speeds along its way

His rising car from morning's gates: so Caesar doth arise,

So Nero shows his face to Rome before the people's eyes,

His bright and shining countenance illumines all the air,

While down upon his graceful neck fall rippling waves of hair."

Thus Apollo. But Lachesis, quite as ready to cast a

favourable eye on a handsome man, spins away by the

handful, and bestows years and years upon Nero out

of her own pocket. As for Claudius, they tell everybody

to speed him on his way

With cries of joy and solemn litany.

At once he bubbled up the ghost, and there was an end to that shadow of a

life. He was listening to a troupe of comedians when he died, so you see I

have reason to fear those gentry. The last words he was heard to speak in

this world were these. When he had made a great noise with that end of him

which talked easiest, he cried out, "Oh dear, oh dear! I think I have made

a mess of myself." Whether he did or no, I cannot say, but certain it is

he always did make a mess of everything.

What happened next on earth it is mere waste of 5

time to tell, for you know it all well enough, and there is no fear of your

ever forgetting the impression which that public rejoicing made on your

memory. No one forgets his own happiness. What happened in heaven you shall

hear: for proof please apply to my informant. Word comes to Jupiter that a

stranger had arrived, a man well set up, pretty grey; he seemed to be

threatening something, for he wagged his head ceaselessly; he dragged the

right foot. They asked him what nation he was of; he answered something in

a confused mumbling voice: his language they did not understand. He was no

Greek and no Roman, nor of any known race. On this Jupiter bids Hercules go

and find out what country he comes from; you see Hercules had travelled

over the whole world, and might be expected to know all the nations in it.

But Hercules, the first glimpse he got, was really much taken aback,

although not all the monsters in the world could frighten him; when he saw

this new kind of object, with its extraordinary gait, and the voice of no

terrestrial beast, but such as you might hear in the leviathans of the

deep, hoarse and inarticulate, he thought his thirteenth labour had come

upon him. When he looked closer, the thing seemed to be a kind of man.

Up he goes, then, and says what your Greek finds readiest to his tongue:

"Who art thou, and what thy people? Who thy

parents, where thy home?"

[Sidenote: Od. i, 17]

Claudius was delighted to find literary men up there, and began to hope

there might be some corner for his own historical works. So he caps him

with another Homeric verse, explaining that he was Caesar:

"Breezes wafted me from Ilion unto the Ciconian land."

[Sidenote: Od. ix, 39]

But the next verse was more true, and no less Homeric:

"Thither come, I sacked a city, slew the people every one."

He would have taken in poor simple Hercules, but 6

that Our Lady of Malaria was there, who left her temple and came alone with

him: all the other gods he had left at Rome. Quoth she, "The fellow's tale

is nothing but lies. I have lived with him all these years, and I tell you,

he was born at Lyons. You behold a fellow-burgess of Marcus. [Footnote:

Reference unknown.] As I say, he was born at the sixteenth milestone from

Vienne, a native Gaul. So of course he took Rome, as a good Gaul ought to

do. I pledge you my word that in Lyons he was born, where Licinus

[Footnote: A Gallic slave, appointed by Augustus Procurator of Gallia

Lugudunensis, when he made himself notorious by his extortions. See Dion

Cass. liv, 21.] was king so many years. But you that have trudged over more

roads than any muleteer that plies for hire, you must have come across the

people of Lyons, and you must know that it is a far cry from Xanthus to the

Rhone." At this point Claudius flared up, and expressed his wrath with as

big a growl as he could manage. What he said nobody understood; as a matter

of fact, he was ordering my lady of Fever to be taken away, and making that

sign with his trembling hand (which was always steady enough for that, if

for nothing else) by which he used to decapitate men. He had ordered her

head to be chopped off. For all the notice the others took of him, they

might have been his own freedmen.

Then Hercules said, "You just listen to me, and 7

stop playing the fool. You have come to the place where the mice nibble

iron. [Footnote: A proverb, found also in Herondas iii, 76: apparently

fairy-land, the land of Nowhere.] Out with the truth, and look sharp, or

I'll knock your quips and quiddities out of you." Then to make himself all

the more awful, he strikes an attitude and proceeds in his most tragic

vein:

"Declare with speed what spot you claim by birth.

Or with this club fall stricken to the earth!

This club hath ofttimes slaughtered haughty kings!

Why mumble unintelligible things?

What land, what tribe produced that shaking head?

Declare it! On my journey when I sped

Far to the Kingdom of the triple King,

And from the Main Hesperian did bring

The goodly cattle to the Argive town,

There I beheld a mountain looking down

Upon two rivers: this the Sun espies

Right opposite each day he doth arise.

Hence, mighty Rhone, thy rapid torrents flow,

And Arar, much in doubt which way to go,

Ripples along the banks with shallow roll.

Say, is this land the nurse that bred thy soul?"

These lines he delivered with much spirit and a bold front. All the same,

he was not quite master of his wits, and had some fear of a blow from

the fool. Claudius, seeing a mighty man before him, saw things looked

serious and understood that here he had not quite the same pre-eminence

as at Rome, where no one was his equal: the Gallic cock was worth most on

his own dunghill. So this is what he was thought to say, as far as could

be made out: "I did hope, Hercules, bravest of all the gods, that you

would take my part with the rest, and if I should need a voucher, I meant

to name you who know me so well. Do but call it to mind, how it was I used

to sit in judgment before your temple whole days together during July and

August. You know what miseries I endured there, in hearing the lawyers

plead day and night. If you had fallen amongst these, you may think

yourself very strong, but you would have found it worse than the sewers of

Augeas: I drained out more filth than you did. But since I want..."

(Some pages have fallen out, in which Hercules must have been persuaded.

The gods are now discussing what Hercules tells them).

"No wonder you have forced your way into the 8

Senate House: no bars or bolts can hold against you. Only do say what

species of god you want the fellow to be made. An Epicurean god he cannot

be: for they have no troubles and cause none. A Stoic, then? How can he be

globular, as Varro says, without a head or any other projection? There is

in him something of the Stoic god, as I can see now: he has neither heart

nor head. Upon my word, if he had asked this boon from Saturn, he would not

have got it, though he kept up Saturn's feast all the year round, a truly

Saturnalian prince. A likely thing he will get it from Jove, whom he

condemned for incest as far as in him lay: for he killed his son-in-law

Silanus, because Silanus had a sister, a most charming girl, called Venus

by all the world, and he preferred to call her Juno. Why, says he, I want

to know why, his own sister? Read your books, stupid: you may go half-way

at Athens, the whole way at Alexandria. Because the mice lick meal at Rome,

you say. Is this creature to mend our crooked ways? What goes on in his own

closet he knows not;[Footnote: Perhaps alluding to a mock marriage of

Silius and Messalina.] and now he searches the regions of the sky, wants to

be a god. Is it not enough that he has a temple in Britain, that savages

worship him and pray to him as a god, so that they may find a fool

[Footnote: Again μωροῦ for θεοῦ as in ch. 6.] to have mercy upon them?"

At last it came into Jove's head, that while strangers 9

were in the House it was not lawful to speak or debate. "My lords and

gentlemen," said he, "I gave you leave to ask questions, and you have made

a regular farmyard [Footnote: Proverb: meaning unknown.] of the place. Be

so good as to keep the rules of the House. What will this person think of

us, whoever he is?" So Claudius was led out, and the first to be asked his

opinion was Father Janus: he had been made consul elect for the afternoon

of the next first of July,[Footnote: Perhaps an allusion to the shortening

of the consul's term, which was done to give more candidates a chance of

the honour.] being as shrewd a man as you could find on a summer's day: for

he could see, as they say, before and behind. [Footnote 8: II, iii, 109;

alluding here to Janus's double face.] He made an eloquent harangue,

because his life was passed in the forum, but too fast for the notary to

take down. That is why I give no full report of it, for I don't want to

change the words he used. He said a great deal of the majesty of the gods,

and how the honour ought not to be given away to every Tom, Dick, or Harry.

"Once," said he, "it was a great thing to become a god; now you have made

it a farce. Therefore, that you may not think I am speaking against one

person instead of the general custom, I propose that from this day forward

the godhead be given to none of those who eat the fruits of the earth, or

whom mother earth doth nourish. After this bill has been read a third time,

whosoever is made, said, or portrayed to be god, I vote he be delivered

over to the bogies, and at the next public show be flogged with a birch

amongst the new gladiators." The next to be asked was Diespiter, son of

Vica Pota, he also being consul elect, and a moneylender; by this trade he

made a living, used to sell rights of citizenship in a small way. Hercules

trips me up to him daintily, and tweaks him by the ear. So he uttered his

opinion in these words: "Inasmuch as the blessed Claudius is akin to the

blessed Augustus, and also to the blessed Augusta, his grandmother, whom he

ordered to be made a goddess, and whereas he far surpasses all mortal men

in wisdom, and seeing that it is for the public good that there be some one

able to join Romulus in devouring boiled turnips, I propose that from this

day forth blessed Claudius be a god, to enjoy that honour with all its

appurtenances in as full a degree as any other before him, and that a note

to that effect be added to Ovid's Metamorphoses." The meeting was divided,

and it looked as though Claudius was to win the day. For Hercules saw his

iron was in the fire, trotted here and trotted there, saying, "Don't deny

me; I make a point of the matter. I'll do as much for you again, when you

like; you roll my log, and I'll roll yours: one hand washes another."

Then arose the blessed Augustus, when his turn 10

came, and spoke with much eloquence. [Footnote: The speech seems to contain

a parody of Augustus's style and sayings.] "I call you to witness, my lords

and gentlemen," said he, "that since the day I was made a god I have never

uttered one word. I always mind my own business. But now I can keep on the

mask no longer, nor conceal the sorrow which shame makes all the greater.

Is it for this I have made peace by land and sea? For this have I calmed

intestine wars? For this, laid a firm foundation of law for Rome, adorned

it with buildings, and all that--my lords, words fail me; there are none

can rise to the height of my indignation. I must borrow that saying of the

eloquent Messala Corvinus, I am ashamed of my authority. [Footnote: M.

Valerius Messala Corvinus, appointed praefectus urbi, resigned within a

week.] This man, my lords, who looks as though he could not hurt a fly,

used to chop off heads as easily as a dog sits down. But why should I speak

of all those men, and such men? There is no time to lament for public

disasters, when one has so many private sorrows to think of. I leave that,

therefore, and say only this; for even if my sister knows no Greek, I do:

The knee is nearer than the shin. [Footnote: A proverb, like "Charity

begins at home." The reading of the passage is uncertain; "sister" is only

a conjecture, and it is hard to see why his sister should be mentioned.]

This man you see, who for so many years has been masquerading under my

name, has done me the favour of murdering two Julias, great-granddaughters

of mine, one by cold steel and one by starvation; and one great grandson,

L. Silanus--see, Jupiter, whether he had a case against him (at least it is

your own if you will be fair.) Come tell me, blessed Claudius, why of all

those you killed, both men and women, without a hearing, why you did not

hear their side of the case first, before putting them to death? Where do

we find that custom? It is not done in heaven.

Look at Jupiter: all these years he has been 11

king, and never did more than once to break Vulcan's leg,

'Whom seizing by the foot he cast from the threshold of the sky,'

[Sidenote: Illiad i, 591]

and once he fell in a rage with his wife and strung her up: did he do any

killing? You killed Messalina, whose great-uncle I was no less than yours.

'I don't know,' did you say? Curse you! that is just it: not to know was

worse than to kill. Caligula he went on persecuting even when he was dead.

Caligula murdered his father-in-law, Claudius his son-in-law to boot.

Caligula would not have Crassus' son called Great; Claudius gave him his

name back, and took away his head. In one family he destroyed Crassus,

Magnus, Scribonia, the Tristionias, Assario, noble though they were;

Crassus indeed such a fool that he might have been emperor. Is this he you

want now to make a god? Look at his body, born under the wrath of heaven!

In fine, let him say the three words [Footnote: Some formula such as _ais

esse meum_.] quickly, and he may have me for a slave. God! who will worship

this god, who will believe in him? While you make gods of such as he, no

one will believe you to be gods. To be brief, my lords: if I have lived

honourably among you, if I have never given plain speech to any, avenge my

wrongs. This is my motion": then he read out his amendment, which he had

committed to writing: "Inasmuch as the blessed Claudius murdered his

father-in-law Appius Silanus, his two sons-in-law, Pompeius Magnus and L.

Silanus, Crassus Frugi his daughter's father-in-law, as like him as two

eggs in a basket, Scribonia his daughter's mother-in-law, his wife

Messalina, and others too numerous to mention; I propose that strong

measures be taken against him, that he be allowed no delay of process, that

immediate sentence of banishment be passed on him, that he be deported from

heaven within thirty days, and from Olympus within thirty hours."

This motion was passed without further debate. Not a moment was lost:

Mercury screwed his neck and haled him to the lower regions, to that bourne

"from which they say no traveller returns." [Footnote: Catullus iii, 12.]

As they passed downwards along the Sacred Way, Mercury asked what was that

great concourse of men? could it be Claudius' funeral? It was certainly a

most gorgeous spectacle, got up regardless of expense, clear it was that a

god was being borne to the grave: tootling of flutes, roaring of horns, an

immense brass band of all sorts, such a din that even Claudius could hear

it. Joy and rejoicing on every side, the Roman people walking about like

free men. Agatho and a few pettifoggers were weeping for grief, and for

once in a way they meant it. The Barristers were crawling out of their

dark corners, pale and thin, with hardly a breath in their bodies, as

though just coming to life again. One of them when he saw the pettifoggers

putting their heads together, and lamenting their sad lot, up comes he and

says: "Did not I tell you the Saturnalia could not last for ever?"

When Claudius saw his own funeral train, he understood that he was dead.

For they were chanting his dirge in anapaests, with much mopping and

mouthing:

"Pour forth your laments, your sorrow declare,

Let the sounds of grief rise high in the air:

For he that is dead had a wit most keen,

Was bravest of all that on earth have been.

Racehorses are nothing to his swift feet:

Rebellious Parthians he did defeat;

Swift after the Persians his light shafts go:

For he well knew how to fit arrow to bow,

Swiftly the striped barbarians fled:

With one little wound he shot them dead.

And the Britons beyond in their unknown seas,

Blue-shielded Brigantians too, all these

He chained by the neck as the Romans' slaves.

He spake, and the Ocean with trembling waves

Accepted the axe of the Roman law.

O weep for the man! This world never saw

One quicker a troublesome suit to decide,

When only one part of the case had been tried,

(He could do it indeed and not hear either side).

Who'll now sit in judgment the whole year round?

Now he that is judge of the shades underground

Once ruler of fivescore cities in Crete,

Must yield to his better and take a back seat.

Mourn, mourn, pettifoggers, ye venal crew,

And you, minor poets, woe, woe is to you!

And you above all, who get rich quick

By the rattle of dice and the three card trick."

Claudius was charmed to hear his own praises sung, 13

and would have stayed longer to see the show. But the Talthybius

[Footnote: Talthybius was a herald, and _nuntius_ is obviously a gloss on

this. He means Mercury.] of the gods laid a hand on him, and led him across

the Campus Martius, first wrapping his head up close that no one might know

him, until betwixt Tiber and the Subway he went down to the lower regions.

[Footnote: By the Cloaca?] His freedman Narcissus had gone down before him

by a short cut, ready to welcome his master. Out he comes to meet him,

smooth and shining (he had just left the bath), and says he: "What make the

gods among mortals?" "Look alive," says Mercury, "go and tell them we are

coming." Away he flew, quicker than tongue can tell. It is easy going by

that road, all down hill. So although he had a touch of the gout, in a

trice they were come to Dis's door. There lay Cerberus, or, as Horace puts

it, the hundred-headed monster. [Sidenote: Odes ii, 13, 35] Claudius was a

trifle perturbed (it was a little white bitch he used to keep for a pet)

when he spied this black shag-haired hound, not at all the kind of thing

you could wish to meet in the dark. In a loud voice he cried, "Claudius is

coming!" All marched before him singing, "The lost is found, O let us

rejoice together!" [Footnote: With a slight change, a cry used in the

worship of Osiris.] Here were found C. Silius consul elect, Juncus the

ex-praetor, Sextus Traulus, M. Helvius, Trogus, Cotta, Vettius Valens,

Fabius, Roman Knights whom Narcissus had ordered for execution. In the

midst of this chanting company was Mnester the mime, whom Claudius for

honour's sake had made shorter by a head. The news was soon blown about

that Claudius had come: to Messalina they throng: first his freedmen,

Polybius, Myron, Harpocras, Amphaeus, Pheronactus, all sent before him by

Claudius that he might not be unattended anywhere; next two prefects,

Justus Catonius and Rufrius Pollio; then his friends, Saturninus, Lusius

and Pedo Pompeius and Lupus and Celer Asinius, these of consular rank; last

came his brother's daughter, his sister's daughter, sons-in-law, fathers

and mothers-in-law, the whole family in fact. In a body they came to meet

Claudius; and when Claudius saw them, he exclaimed, "Friends everywhere, on

my word! How came you all here?" To this Pedo Pompeius answered, "What,

cruel man? How came we here? Who but you sent us, you, the murderer of all

the friends that ever you had? To court with you! I'll show you where their

lordships sit."

Pedo brings him before the judgement seat of 14

Aeacus, who was holding court under the Lex Cornelia to try cases of murder

and assassination. Pedo requests the judge to take the prisoner's name, and

produces a summons with this charge: Senators killed, 35; Roman Knights,

221; others as the sands of the sea-shore for multitude. [Sidenote: Il. ix,

385] Claudius finds no counsel. At length out steps P. Petronius, an old

chum of his, a finished scholar in the Claudian tongue and claims a remand.

Not granted. Pedo Pompeius prosecutes with loud outcry. The counsel for the

defence tries to reply; but Aeacus, who is the soul of justice, will not

have it. Aeacus hears the case against Claudius, refuses to hear the other

side and passes sentence against him, quoting the line:

"As he did, so be he done by, this is justice undefiled."

[Footnote: A proverbial line.]

A great silence fell. Not a soul but was stupefied at this new way of

managing matters; they had never known anything like it before. It was no

new thing to Claudius, yet he thought it unfair. There was a long

discussion as to the punishment he ought to endure. Some said that Sisyphus

had done his job of porterage long enough; Tantalus would be dying of

thirst, if he were not relieved; the drag must be put at last on wretched

Ixion's wheel. But it was determined not to let off any of the old stagers,

lest Claudius should dare to hope for any such relief. It was agreed that

some new punishment must be devised: they must devise some new task,

something senseless, to suggest some craving without result. Then Aeacus

decreed he should rattle dice for ever in a box with no bottom. At once the

poor wretch began his fruitless task of hunting for the dice, which for

ever slipped from his fingers.

"For when he rattled with the box, and thought he now had got 'em. 15

The little cubes would vanish thro' the perforated bottom.

Then he would pick 'em up again, and once more set a-trying:

The dice but served him the same trick: away they went a-flying.

So still he tries, and still he fails; still searching long he lingers;

And every time the tricksy things go slipping thro' his fingers.

Just so when Sisyphus at last once gets there with his boulder,

He finds the labour all in vain--it rolls down off his shoulder."

All on a sudden who should turn up but Caligula, and claims the man for a

slave: brings witnesses, who said they had seen him being flogged, caned,

fisticuffed by him. He is handed over to Caligula, and Caligula makes him

a present to Aeacus. Aeacus delivers him to his freedman Menander, to be

his law-clerk.