Claudius The God – Robert Graves, 1935 ★★★★

Perils of Absolute Rule

A sequel to any great novel faces a steep challenge measuring up, especially when the original works well enough alone. After barely surviving the perils of the world’s most dangerous family, only to be made Emperor of Rome, how can poor Claudius entertain us now?

With Claudius The God, it is no longer a matter of surviving, but reigning. Will Clau-Clau-Claudius, the stuttering, staggering, drooling leader of the greatest empire ever known, make a royal hash of his empire, or restore a measure of Roman sensibility and prosperity?

For much of the novel, he seems on the road to creating marked improvement for his people and his legacy. Then he realizes it isn’t good to be the king, not for him and not for his people.

He jots down these thoughts late in the book:

“By dulling the blade of tyranny I fell into great error.

By whetting the same blade, I might redeem that error.

Violent disorders call for violent remedies.”

Claudius remains a believer in the old Roman Republic throughout his reign, but he finds handy excuses to stay on the throne. "What a farcical situation–myself, the only true antimonarchist, forced to act as a monarch!"
Image from https://www.tumblr.com/peashooter85/108306692893/the-shadow-republic-of-the-roman-empire

Claudius The God’s relationship to I, Claudius is like that of the movie Godfather II to the first Godfather. In the prior film, we are introduced to a colorful criminal enterprise and wonder if and how its most likable member can survive. In the second film, that member becomes the boss, and we see him lose his humanity to keep his corrupt family on top.

Like the first Godfather, I, Claudius is easier to enjoy. Claudius The God is more complex and personalized. Our narrator Claudius continually wrestles with responsibilities and justifications until the human cost becomes too high to rationalize. You don’t get the same sweep or drama you get from I, Claudius, but it isn’t an unworthy sequel. Not absolutely necessary, no, but it adds a lot to the story.

That said, Claudius The God opens in a perplexing way. Instead of immediately bringing us up to date with Claudius in the days after the slaying of Emperor Caligula, we start with some sixty pages focused on another accidental ruler entirely, King Herod Agrippa of Judea.

A Judean coin from the reign of Herod Agrippa I. He tells his childhood friend and ally Claudius: "You can count on me once I am king to be a really good king; but until I am on the throne I cannot afford to be any more virtuous than the rest of my family."
Image from https://en.numista.com/catalogue/pieces70200.html

Agrippa was a real Jewish noble who bounced around the ancient world, enjoying close ties with Rome and its ruling family. In Claudius The God, we see Agrippa utilizing these ties to fend off creditors and rivals, showing himself to be a shameless huckster if (at times) a rare honest friend to Claudius. It is involving, often comical, but digressive.

When we finally rejoin Claudius where we left him in I, Claudius, he is pondering whether to accept the throne vacated by the slaying of his predecessor Caligula. Agrippa makes clear Claudius has no choice:

“You have some crazy idea of yielding up your power to the Senate as soon as the soldiers let you go. That would be madness; it would be the signal for civil war. The Senate are a flock of sheep, but there are three or four wolves among them ready, the moment you lay down your power, to fight for it among themselves.”

This seems sound advice, yet as the novel continues we recognize in that argument a recipe for tyranny to outlive any mortal. Certainly Claudius sees it that way, and begins taking action against it.

Emperor Claudius reigned from 41 to 54 A. D., and instituted many needed reforms. He also extended the empire's borders and slew many who got in his way. "The mission of Rome is to civilize the world," Graves has Claudius announce when invading Britain.
Image from https://www.history.com/news/8-things-you-may-not-know-about-emperor-claudius

Claudius The God doesn’t have the historical scope of I, Claudius. It comprises just one emperor’s reign, rather than three. Instead of Empress Livia, the villainess supreme of the first novel, we get Claudius’s faithless wife Messalina, who uses her husband’s trust to settle scores and bed-hop. “O God, what cats women are!” she huffs.

Messalina’s story has always had more than a whiff of irrational misogyny about it. One legend reworked into the narrative is her decision to turn the Imperial Palace into a brothel while Claudius is away and have intercourse with as many men in a single night as she can. For her, serial cuckoldry is a point of pride.

In Claudius The God this misbehavior grows so wanton it is known to everyone in Rome and lands far beyond. Only Claudius is somehow kept in the dark. “I am one of the easiest people in the world to deceive,” he explains, a trifle unconvincingly. Eventually, Messalina cons Claudius into granting her a divorce on the basis of a prediction of her husband impending death. This con finally proves too much, even for Claudius.

The reality of Empress Messalina's sex drive may never be known, but her reputation for debauchery inspired much great art. Above, a sculpture of a post-coital Messalina at rest by Eugene Cyrille Brunet, on display in Rennes, France.
Image from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Messalina

Messalina is a weaker substitute for I, Claudius’s Livia, whose sublime cruelty always had a point to it. Messalina is just a royal bitch. The rest of the supporting cast is fairly thin; only a handful like Agrippa make more than a surface impression. Even so, Claudius The God benefits from its deeper examination of a single ruler’s experiences at the helm. There’s more Claudius this time, which is great.

In Claudius The God we get a detailed portrait of him at work, enlarging the Imperial port at Ostia, reforming tax laws and the budget, and conquering most of Britain. He is also a learned writer, producing two multi-volume histories (on Etruria and Carthage) and adding three letters to the Roman alphabet. He engages in many spirited debates.

Claudius proves quite a ruler, even if he says so himself:

I was convinced that as soon as I proved by a voluntary resignation of the monarchy that my intentions had never been tyrannical and that such summary executions as I had ordered had been forced on me, I would be forgiven all my lesser errors for the sake of the great work of reform that I had accomplished, and all suspicions would be put to rest.

The Roman Empire (in purple) in 43 A. D., as it existed just before Claudius invaded Britain. "If the whole Roman citizenry were to file past me at a brisk walk, toe to heel, it would be two full years before the last one came into sight," he tells the reader."
Image from https://omniatlas.com/maps/europe/430816/ 

The more he sets out to achieve, however, the deeper he draws himself in, until like Michael Corleone, he eventually realizes he can’t get out. By then he has amassed quite a body count, including many innocents. Even long drinking sessions won’t help him escape.

Enjoyably unique aspects of Claudius The God include the clever way in which the narrative manages to convey Claudius’s windy, halting method of communication. He can’t help but digress at length, such as on the impiety of Greek doctors: “Medicine mixed and taken without prayers would have seemed to me as unlucky and useless as a wedding celebrated without guests, sacrifice or music.”

Another high point is the capture of Britain, Claudius’s one great historical triumph. Claudius The God provides a detailed account that include the exotic preparations, the rough voyage, and sly battlefield subterfuge. All this time the narrative keeps focused on just how fish-out-of-water Claudius is commanding the military.

After, he does not try to conceal his pride:

It is probable that it will never happen to anyone again in this world, as it is certain that it had never happened to anyone before, to fight his first battle at the age of fifty-three, never having performed military service of any sort in his youth, win a crushing victory, and never take the field again for the rest of his life.

The conquest of Britain, left unfinished by Julius Caesar, was completed (minus Scotland) by Claudius. "You Romans aim at extending your sway over all mankind, but it does not follow that all mankind will immediately accept that sway," a British chieftain tells him.
Image from https://www.roman-britain.co.uk/roman-conquest-and-occupation-of-britain/

Conquering Britain proves the high-water mark of Claudius’s reign; after which he imagines a time when the British people can be brought into full Roman citizenship. Is Graves being ironic, suggesting the same empire-building tendencies exist in both peoples?

Later, Graves seems to channel his own harrowing World War I experiences when Claudius discusses dealing with the Germans. He recalls his late brother’s advice: “The only way to win the respect of Germans was to treat them with brutality.”

Like I, Claudius, Claudius The God is written in a light, conversational way, almost breezy at times. While there are no doubt allusions to early 20^th century British social and political concerns, the novel mostly concerns itself with Rome as it was in Claudius’s time.

Claudius himself is a modern man in some respects, but very much of his time. He accepts unquestioningly the institution of slavery and the pantheon of Gods which include his own grand-uncle Augustus. He expresses similar credulity about prophecies, though his belief is nuanced by a survivor’s kind of seasoned practicality:

It is very curious about prophecies. A prophecy is made, perhaps, when one is a boy and one pays great attention to it at the time, but then a mist descends: one forgets about it altogether until suddenly the mist clears and the prophecy is fulfilled.

Claudius is a great lover of gladiator combats in Graves's novel. He recalls the spectacle of a fighter having his arm lopped off: "The whole amphitheater roared with laughter at him. I thought it was funny too, God forgive me."
Image from https://www.artofmanliness.com/character/knowledge-of-men/man-knowledge-the-men-in-the-arena-a-primer-on-roman-gladiators/

The validity of prophesies is critical to this story. It was foretold that Claudius would become emperor; time and again we are told of other predictions proven right. Of course, being this is Claudius’s first-person account, the rule of unreliable narration is in effect.

According to the Roman historian Suetonius, Claudius was too controlled by his freedmen, former slaves barred from full citizenship who ran the empire while he drank and played dice. Graves doesn’t quite echo this view, though able freedmen like Narcissus and Polybius control most affairs in his version of the story. Claudius is basically a delegator of responsibility, showing himself quite adept in that way.

Ultimately, Graves’s Claudius is too good for Rome itself. He alone recognizes how rot grows from the head when it comes to imperial rule:

Yes, we are all mad, we Emperors. We begin sanely, like Augustus and Tiberius and even Caligula (though he was an evil character, he was sane at first) and monarchy turns our wits.

That downbeat conclusion colors the whole novel and explains its protagonist’s descent into hopeless apathy. Nevertheless, Graves’s ability to conjure an ancient world and make it breathe again is no less a wonder than it was in the first book, and well worth revisiting.