Claudius (Cont'd)

CLAUDIUS THE GOD AND HIS WIFE MES-SALINA--Robert Graves--Smith & Haas ($3).

Readers of I, Claudius (TIME, June 18) and Claudius the God may well think it a pity that history attracts historians, instead of such writers as Robert Graves. But few novelists would have the patience to peer so hard at history through the spectacles of scholarship, as few historians have the ability to describe what they see. I, Claudius surprised some literary quidnuncs by becoming a bestseller. Its sequel, Claudius the God (April choice of the Book-of-the-Month Club) will surprise them even more if it is not. As carefully documented as its predecessor, Claudius the God smells as little of the lamp, reads like a really contemporary account. Most readers will agree that it is a better book than I, Claudius.

Claudius the God picks up the first-person narrative where /, Claudius dropped it, at Claudius' unwilling coronation as Emperor. Middleaged, ugly, crippled, the despised fool of his family as he had been the butt of his nephew Caligula's court, Claudius had only one desire: to keep out of the limelight, end his days plodding away at his secret historical writing. Furthermore, he was a convinced Republican and thought Emperors a bad thing for Rome. Because his only choice, however, was between the throne and an ignominious death, he sat down in the imperial seat with what grace he could muster. No fool, he soon saw his chance to bring Rome back to a state of grace in which she would once more be ready for Republican rule. He set himself to the task with pertinacious common sense, worked long hours to bring Roman order out of imperial chaos.

But Claudius found that being an Emperor was even more complicated than it looked. His old schoolmate Herod Agrippa gave him good advice and remained his best friend, even when politics made them mortal enemies. With the best will in the world Claudius made mistakes, and an emperor's mistakes were hard to correct. But he kept hard at it, turned many a laugh on his critics by his homely shrewdness, gradually built up a solid popularity with the Roman populace. His greatest personal triumph was his successful campaign against Britain, when his bookish tactics went like clockwork. In all his tribulations his adored young wife Messalina was his greatest comfort. Claudius was the last person in Rome to find out the truth about her: that she was a nymphomaniacal adulteress, a treacherous schemer, a cold-blooded poisoner. This discovery made Claudius nearly willing to die.

Though he still had his stout Republican purpose he saw that Rome was not yet ripe for it. To outsiders it looked as if Messalina's betrayal had turned him to the way of all Emperors: he married Agrippina, the wickedest woman in Rome, let her groom her son Nero for the throne, was apparently content to sit back and let the downward rush of history take its course. But there was method in his cynicism. Hoping that Rome would eventually tire of tyranny if it became too outrageous, he played King Log to the Roman frog-pond. He knew his successor Nero would be a terror, trusted that the people would rise against him and restore the Republic. His part played, when he knew that his wife was planning to have him killed it was hardly a surprise, almost a relief.

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