EnglishEdward
Deity
I don't think I've ever laid my hands on I, Claudius.
BBC did a good series of I, Claudius a few decades ago.
I don't think I've ever laid my hands on I, Claudius.
He stood and gazed,—it was no delusion. It spoke not, moved not, till, unable to bear longer that steady and burning look, he covered his face with his hands. With a start, with a thrill, he removed them; he felt the nearer presence of the nameless.
And then, as a wind from a charnel, was heard its voice. What it said, what revealed, it is forbidden the lips to repeat, the hand to record. Nothing save the subtle life that yet animated the frame to which the inhalations of the elixir had given vigour and energy beyond the strength of the strongest, could have survived that awful hour. Better to wake in the catacombs and see the buried rise from their cerements, and hear the ghouls, in their horrid orgies, amongst the festering ghastliness of corruption, than to front those features when the veil was lifted, and listen to that whispered voice!
“But, but,” continued Glyndon, with a whitening lip and a visible shudder, “at every attempt to rise into loftier existence, came that hideous form. It gloomed beside me at the easel. Before the volumes of poet and sage it stood with its burning eyes in the stillness of night, and I thought I heard its horrible whispers uttering temptations never to be divulged.”
The French Revolution is the central backdrop for most of the book. There is some foreshadowing in the early chapters where the eponymous protagonist warns a group of Robespierre fans (this is before the Revolution has begun) in so many words that the lower class should never uproot the upper class. The Revolutionaries are characterised as small-minded, selfish, envious, brutal ruffians whilst the targets of the Revolutionaries are always lofty, gentle, caring, chivalrous, honourable and courageous. In fact, towards the end of the book when a character is thrown into jail and learns that inmates are not so terrible as they were lead to believe, it is not a moment of appreciation of the humanity of those whom society considers scroundels but actually the inmates are nobles which is why they are so nice. The author's constant promotion of inequality as a law can get quite infuriating:the Nameless One guided him with the demon eyes to the sea whose waves were gore.
And yet there, the reverence that comes from great emotions restored Nature’s first and imperishable, and most lovely, and most noble Law,—THE INEQUALITY BETWEEN MAN AND MAN!
To end on an ironic (and prescient) note, there are annotations in my Gutenberg copy of the book (in between the actual text of the story, infuriatingly enough!) and the annotator seems to have chosen one passage that seems to go against the author's sentiments (context: a ludicrous scene in which a character declares that it has been proven that the Anglo-Saxons are descendants of the Ancient Greeks):She, who had hitherto been taught to abhor those whom Law condemns for crime, was amazed to hear that beings thus compassionate and tender, with cloudless and lofty brows, with gallant and gentle mien, were criminals for whom Law had no punishment short of death. But they, the savages, gaunt and menacing, who had dragged her from her home, who had attempted to snatch from her the infant while she clasped it in her arms, and laughed fierce scorn at her mute, quivering lips,—THEY were the chosen citizens, the men of virtue, the favourites of Power, the ministers of Law! Such thy black caprices, O thou, the ever-shifting and calumnious,—Human Judgment!
“You colonise the lands of the savage with the Anglo-Saxon,—you civilise that portion of THE EARTH; but is the SAVAGE civilised? He is exterminated! You accumulate machinery,—you increase the total of wealth; but what becomes of the labour you displace? One generation is sacrificed to the next. You diffuse knowledge,—and the world seems to grow brighter; but Discontent at Poverty replaces Ignorance, happy with its crust. Every improvement, every advancement in civilisation, injures some, to benefit others, and either cherishes the want of to-day, or prepares the revolution of to-morrow.”—Stephen Montague.
How ‘Roman’ does the author make the counting? Is it just the years or is it extended to nundina, kalends, etc.?
And here I'm on my second copy because the first one fell apart from too much re-reading...
It's actually the first of two books; the sequel is Claudius the God. The miniseries is based on both of them.
One interesting thing about it is that the dates used are AUC, as in reckoned from the founding of Rome. That's something to have to get used to. Since these are Claudius' memoirs, naturally he reckons in the Roman way, rather than in our modern way.
Ooohh, sounds interesting for whiling away the rest of the winter.BBC did a good series of I, Claudius a few decades ago.
The book refers to the ides, kalends, etc. and the dates given for what he's talking about are reckoned AUC - Ab urbe condita - from the founding of the City (Rome, of course being the only city that mattered).How ‘Roman’ does the author make the counting? Is it just the years or is it extended to nundina, kalends, etc.?
Ooohh, sounds interesting for whiling away the rest of the winter.
I haven't read that in ~25 years, but I loved it. I remember it was kind of a juggernaut - Google says 673 pages - but it was worth it. It may even have gotten a little dusty in the room at the end.Started Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay
Anything by Kay is worth reading, (even The Fionnavar Tapestry, his first works which are basically what would these's days be called an isekai - they're not amazing, but they're still a solid read), but I'd put the Sarantine duology as my favourite. I have a soft spot for Tigana, being my introduction to his work, but found when re-reading it recently that I don't like it as much as I used to 15-20 years ago - it's gone from an all time classic to merely very good in my book...