The Chronicles of Gerald Caligula
Chapter One: Bellum Contra Neptunum
Chef Gerald Caligula, Emperor of the Washing Machine
I got a cat! Isn’t he handsome? His name is Caligula, Chef Gerald Caligula in full. Gerald because my wife thought it was hilarious to name a cat Gerald, Chef because he keeps opening our knife drawer, and Caligula because of the little white boots on his front paws.
Now, the name “Caligula” has some cultural resonance that tends not to be associated with boots, more with incest and murder, but let me explain.
Caligula, The History
Germanicus Julius Caesar was a Roman general and politician who was most famous for his campaigns in Germania, hence his first name. He and his wife, Agrippina the Elder, spent much of their lives in military camps, where they had a child who would later be the third emperor of Rome. His name was Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, better known as Caligula. You see, caliga means “boots” in Latin, military boots specifically, and while growing up in the camps, the soldiers nicknamed little Gaius “Caligula,” or “little boots.” -ulus is a Latin diminutive, for example feles means “cat,” and feliculus means “little kitty.” The historian Emma Southon, in her immensely entertaining book Agrippina, thinks that a better translation of Caligula might be something like “booty-kins,” that really emphasizes the childish, disrespectful nature of the nickname.
Why do we refer to Caligula by his childhood nickname? Well, partly to differentiate him from all the other Romans with near-identical names, but also partly because he was hated by the Roman nobility, and they called him Caligula in the histories as a form of disrespect.
So much for Caligula as emperor; we must now tell of his career as a monster.
Suetonius, The Life of Caligula
Caligula is famous as a byword for cruel despotism mainly because the historians Tacitus and Suetonius wrote absolutely salacious accounts of his time as emperor, accusing him of pretty much every depravity they could think of.
Among other things, he’s accused of living “in habitual incest with all his sisters,” turning the imperial palace into a brothel, proclaiming himself a living god and demanding he be worshipped, appointing his favorite horse as a consul and a priest, squandering the imperial treasury on enormous vanity projects, and ordering mass executions whenever it suited his fancy.
He began from that time on to lay claim to divine majesty; for after giving orders that such statues of the gods as were especially famous for their sanctity or their artistic merit, including that of Jupiter of Olympia, should be brought from Greece, in order to remove their heads and put his own in their place
Suetonius, The Life of Caligula
Now Emma Southon thinks, and I agree, that most of this is very likely to be propaganda from his enemies. Indeed, it was more unusual in the early Roman Empire not to be accused of incest, as it was something of a trope. Caligula’s disdain for the nobility and popularity with the people is well-attested, which likely drew the ire of the nobility. Irrespective of their veracity, the accounts of Tacitus and Suetonius make for fantastic reading (you’re certainly never bored), hence their popularity through to the present day.
Of course, my cat is guilty of none of these crimes, though he absolutely would murder the birds outside my window, if only he could get his little paws on them.
War Against Neptune
Now I’ve been learning Latin, and it occurred to me that many of the specific stories told about the Emperor Caligula actually sound a lot like cat behavior. Take, for example, the famous story of Caligula ordering his soldiers to “make war on the ocean.”
Finally, as if he intended to bring the war to an end, he drew up a line of battle on the shore of the Ocean, arranging his ballistas and other artillery; and when no one knew or could imagine what he was going to do, he suddenly bade them gather shells and fill their helmets and the folds of their gowns, calling them "spoils from the Ocean, due to the Capitol and Palatine." As a monument of his victory he erected a lofty tower, from which lights were to shine at night to guide the course of ships, as from the Pharos. Then promising the soldiers a gratuity of a hundred denarii each, as if he had shown unprecedented liberality, he said, "Go your way happy; go your way rich."
This is very odd behavior for a human (but perhaps not for a cat), though the interpretation of this as “declaring war upon the ocean” is actually from Robert Graves’ novel I, Claudius — the Roman sources leave Caligula’s motivation ambiguous. Regardless, as part of my Latin composition exercises, I have written several fables that chronicle the res gestae Imperatoris Geraldi Caligulae, and I want to share them with you. So without further ado, I present Bellum Contra Neptunum, the first in a series of adventures of Gerald Caligula, Emperor of the Washing Machine, Sovereign of the Linen Closet.
Annalis Prima Geraldi Caligulae, Bellum Contra Neptunum
I, Gerald Caligula, Emperor of the Washing Machine and Sovereign of the Linen Closet, will tell you the tale of my epic battle with Neptune. I am a cat, most regal of creatures, and I have little white boots on my paws, hence my illustrious name.
Ego, Geraldus Caligula, Imperator Machinae Lavatoriae et Dominus Armarii Lintearii, tibi narrabo de bello titanico contra Neptunum. Feles sum, maxime regius ex animalibus, et albas caligas habeo in pedibus meis, nominor ergo Caligula, clarissimum nomen ad clarissimum felem.
As Emperor, it is my solemn duty to protect my realm against all threats, seen and unseen. Neptune, Lord of Baths, is the avowed enemy of all feline kind, and only yesterday I discovered that his nefarious influence had seeped into the very heart of my domain. I uncovered a portal to Neptune's realm within the bathroom, cunningly disguised as an innocent "sink."
Ut Imperatori, officium sacrum mihi est meum regnum defendere omnibus ab hostibus, visis invisisque. Neptunus, Dominus Omnium Lavacrum, hostis manifestus et declaratus est omnis generis felini. Heri tantum, eius influentiam nefariam in ipso corde mei imperii insinuatam detexi. Ego portam ad regnum Neptuni in balneo repperi, quae callide dissimulata erat ut foramen.
I was perched regally on the counter when one of my subjects entered and turned a strange silver lever, unleashing a raging torrent of water into the basin that serves as one of my many napping spots. A lesser cat might have fled, but no ordinary feline is Gerald Caligula! I immediately declared war, announcing my intentions with a battle cry that my human subjects erroneously refer to as "yowling."
Nuper, regaliter in mensa insidebam cum una ex subditis meis (nomine Sophia) intraret et innaturalem vectem argenteam verteret. Statim, torrens magna vi effluxit in foramen qui mihi saepe serviebat pro loco dormiendi. Feles minoris animi fugisset, sed tam vulgaris feles non sum! Ego sum Imperator, et statim Neptuno execrato bellum indixi, intentiones meas nuntians fremitu horribili, quem homines falso “vagitare” appellant.
Ignoring such human foolishness, I leapt to the basin, swatting the watery invader with my mighty paws. My subjects watched, no doubt stunned by my bravery and tactical brilliance. The humans cried, "Gerald, no!" -- clearly a cheer of encouragement. I swatted the silver lever with all my might, and lo! the torrent ceased.
Nugis hominum neglectis, in foramen insilui, magnis pedibus invasorem aquosum verberans. Subditi mei spectabant, sine dubio stupefacti ob meam audaciam. Clamabant “Noli, Geralde!,” scilicet me laudabant. Iterum argenteam vectem omnibus viribus verberavi, et ecce! Torrens cessavit.
Neptune's armies had been beaten back, and I gloried in my victory. That's when I spotted them -- a row of colorful wands standing in formation, which I had often observed with suspicion. The humans call them "toothbrushes," but I recognized them for what they truly were: Neptune's tridents, the very manifestation of his power in my realm.
Exercitum Neptuni ipse reppuleram, in victoria mea gloriatus sum. Eo momento, illos animadverti – in acie constitutae erant virgulae coloreae, quas saepe cum suspicione perspexeram. Homines stulti eas appellabant “peniculos dentarios,” sed forma vera nunc mihi se revelabat: tridentes Neptuni, manifestationes ipsae potestatis suae in regno meo.
With the skill of a master thief, I carefully extracted each trident from its holder. One by one, I carried these dangerous talismans to my royal bedchamber (known to the commoners as “the linen closet”). There, I arranged them in a display befitting my triumph, a warning to all who might challenge my sovereignty.
Arte optimi furis, singulos tridentes diligenter extraxi ex eorum vaginis. Singillatim haec talismania periculosa spoliavi ad cubiculum meum regium (vulgo notum ut Armarius Lintearius), ibique triumphans ea disposui, pro monitu omnibus qui me ipsum evertere temptarent.
When my subjects discovered my victory tableau, they reacted with awe. Clearly overwhelmed by the magnitude of my accomplishment, they muttered “Oh, Gerald” and “Not again,” which I can only interpret as expressions of deepest gratitude and admiration.
Cum subditi mei victoriae spectaculum detexissent, reverentes horrescebant. Manifeste superati magnitudinem facinoris mei, murmuraverunt “O, Geralde” et “Vae mihi, iterum,” quod non nisi ut exclamatio profundissimae gratiae admirationisque intellegere poteram.
And so, the Battle of the Bathroom Sink came to a glorious close, and I, Gerald Caligula, stand victorious! Let my display of Neptune's chewed tridents be a stern warning to any other god who dares to invade my realm! For in this household, there is but one supreme deity, and his name is Gerald Caligula, Emperor of the Washing Machine, Vanquisher of Neptune!
Itaque, Proelium Foraminis Balnearis ad finem gloriosum pervenit, et ego, Imperator Geraldus Caligula, victor existo! Spectaculum tridentium morsorum Neptuni moneat omnes deos qui regnum meum invadere audeant! Nam in hac domo unus deus supremus est, et is est Geraldus Caligula, Imperator Machinae Lavatoriae, Invictus Neptuni Domitor!
Multas gratias Lucae agere velim ut hanc fabulam corrigat. Gratias tibi, magister!
Very nice