, as was usual,
but four several times was Claudius acclaimed "Imperator"[140] even
before he left our shores; and in after years these acclamations
were renewed at Rome as often as good news of the British war
arrived there, till, ere Claudius died, he had received no fewer
than twenty-one such distinctions, each signalized by an issue of
commemorative coinage. His "Britannic triumph" was celebrated on a
scale of exceptional magnificence. In addition to the usual display,
he gave his people the unique spectacle of their Emperor climbing the
ascent to the Capitol not in his triumphal car, nor even on foot, but
on his knees (as pilgrims yet mount the steps of the Ara Coeli), in
token of special gratitude to the gods for so signal an extension
of the glory and the Empire of Rome. In the gladiatorial shows which
followed, he presided in full uniform [_paludatus_],[141] with his son
(whose name, like his own, a _Senatus consultum_ had declared to
be _Britannicus_)[142] on his knee.[143] One of the spectacles
represented the storm of a British _oppidum_ and the surrender of
British kings. The kings were probably real British chieftains, and
the storm was certainly real, with real Britons, real blood, real
slaughter, for Claudius went to every length in this direction.

C. 2.--The narrative of Suetonius[144] connects these shows with the
well-known tale of the unhappy gladiators who fondly hoped that a
kind word from the Emperor meant a reprieve of their doom. He had
determined to surpass all his predecessors in his exhibition of a
sea-fight, and had provided a sheet of water large enough for the
manoeuvres of real war-galleys, carrying some five hundred men
apiece.[145] The crews, eleven thousand in all, made their usual
preliminary march past his throne, with the usual mournful acclaim,
"_Ave Caesar! Salutant te morituri_!" Claudius responded, "_Aut non_:"
and these two words were enough to inspire the doomed ranks with hopes
of mercy. With one accord they refused to play their part, and he had
to come down in person and solemnly assure them that if his show was
spoilt he would exterminate every man of them "with fire and sword,"
before they would embark. Once entered upon the combat, however, they
fought desperately; so well, indeed, that at its close the survivors
were declared exempt from any further performance. Such was the fate
which awaited those who dared to defend their freedom against the
Fortune of Rome, and suc