The Twelve Caesars

by Robert Graves

  59. He died at the age of twenty-nine after ruling for three years, ten months and eight days. His body was moved secretly to the Lamian Gardens, half-cremated on a hastily-built pyre, and then buried beneath a shallow covering of sods. Later, when his sisters returned from exile they exhumed, cremated, and entombed it. But all the City knew that the Gardens had been haunted until then by his ghost, and that something horrible appeared every night at the scene of the murder until at last the building burned down.

  60. The terror inspired by Caligula’s reign could be judged by the sequel: everyone was extremely reluctant to believe that he had really been assassinated, and suspected that the story was invented by himself to discover what people thought of him. The conspirators had no particular candidate for Emperor in mind, and most senators were so bent on restoring the Republic that the Consuls summoned the first assembly not to the House, because it was named the Julian Building, but to the Capitol. Some wanted all memory of the Caesars obliterated, and their temples destroyed. People commented on the fact that every Caesar named ‘Gaius’ had died by the sword, beginning with Gaius Julius Caesar Strabo, murdered in Cinna’s day.62

  V

  CLAUDIUS

  AFTERWARDS DEIFIED

  When three months after her marriage to Augustus, Livia gave birth to Decimus (later Nero) Drusus, people naturally suspected that Augustus, not her ex-husband, was the father. This provoked the following epigram:

  How fortunate those parents are for whom

  Their child is only three months in the womb!

  Drusus, father of the future Emperor Claudius, commanded an army against the Raetians, and subsequently against the Germans, while holding the successive ranks of quaestor and praetor. He was the first Roman general to navigate the North Sea; and also excavated the Drusus Canal, as they still call it—a remarkable engineering work which connects the Rhine with the Yssel. After defeating the local tribes in a series of battles, Drusus drove them far back into the wild interior, until checked by an apparition: a barbarous woman of phenomenal size who warned him in Latin to venture no farther.

  These campaigns earned Drusus an ovation, with triumphal regalia; and he became Consul directly the praetorship ended. On resuming the war he died at his summer headquarters,63 thenceforth known as ‘The Accursed Camp’. His body was carried to Rome in a coffin by relays of leading citizens from the various free towns and veterans’ colonies which lay along the route. There a waiting deputation of magistrates’ clerks took it to a pyre on the Campus Martius. The Army fixed a day for every city in Gaul to pay his ghost their respects with prayers and sacrifices; soldiers in full equipment were to run around the memorial pillar. The Senate voted Drusus many honours, among them a marble arch on the Appian Way decorated with the trophies he had won, and the surname Germanicus to be held by himself and his descendants in perpetuity.

  Drusus was, they say, no less eager for personal glory than loyal to the republican institutions then in abeyance. Not content with gaining victories over the enemy, he had a long-standing ambition to win what were called ‘The Noblest Spoils’, namely the armour of the opposing general taken from him in single combat; and used to chase German chieftains across the battlefield at great risk to his life. He also openly announced that, as soon as he came to power, he would restore the Constitution.

  This must be why some writers allege that Augustus suspected him of being a revolutionary, recalled him from his province and, when he did not come back at once, had him poisoned. I think it right not to suppress what seems to me a most improbable view; in point of fact, Augustus felt so deep a love for Drusus that, as he admitted to the Senate on one occasion, he considered him no less his heir than were Julia’s sons, whom he had adopted; and his funeral speech in the House not only eulogized Drusus but included a prayer that the gods would make these young Caesars closely resemble him, and grant them as honourable a death. Nor did he think it enough to have an adulatory inscription carved on Drusus’s tomb: he also wrote his biography.

  Antonia the Younger bore Drusus several children, three of whom survived him: Germanicus, Livilla, and Claudius.

  2. Claudius—Tiberius Claudius Drusus—was born at Lyons, in the consulship of Iullus Antonius and Fabius Africanus, on 1 August, 10 B.C., the very day when the first altar was dedicated there to Augustus the God; Drusus died in the following year. Claudius took the surname Germanicus after his brother had been engrafted in the Julian House as Tiberius’s adopted son. Nearly the whole of his childhood and youth was so troubled by various diseases that he grew dull-witted and had little physical strength; and on reaching the age at which he should have won a magistracy or chosen a private career, was considered by his family incapable of doing either.

  Even the wearing of a man’s gown did not free him from the supervision of a tutor, about whom he later wrote: ‘The man was a barbarian, an ex-transport officer who had been assigned the task of punishing me savagely whatever I might do.’ Claudius’s weak health also accounted for his being muffled in a cloak—an unprecedented sight—while presiding at the gladiatorial games given by Germanicus and himself to honour their father’s memory; and, at his coming of age, he was taken up to the Capitol in a litter, about midnight, without the customary solemn procession.

  3. Though he applied himself seriously to literature while still a child, and published several samples of his proficiency in its various departments, this did not advance him to public office or inspire the family with brighter hopes for his future.

  Claudius’s mother often called him ‘a monster: a man whom Mother Nature had begun to work upon but then flung aside’; and, if she ever accused anyone of stupidity, would exclaim: ‘He is a bigger fool even than my son Claudius!’ Livia Augusta, his grandmother, never failed to treat him with the deepest scorn, and seldom addressed him personally; her reproofs came in the form of brief, bitter letters or oral messages. When his sister Livilla heard someone predict that he would one day succeed to the throne, she prayed aloud that the Roman people might be spared so cruel and undeserved a misfortune. Finally, to show what his great-uncle, Augustus, thought of him, I quote the following extracts from the Imperial correspondence:

  4. My dear Livia,

  As you suggested, I have now discussed with Tiberius what we should do about your grandson Claudius at the coming Festival of Mars the Avenger.64 We both agreed that an immediate decision ought to be taken. The question is whether he has—shall I say?—full command of his five senses. If so, I can see nothing against sending him through the same degrees of office as his brother; but should he prove physically and mentally deficient, the public (which is always amused by trifles) must not be given a chance of laughing at him and us. I fear that we shall find ourselves in constant trouble if the question of his fitness to officiate in this or that capacity keeps cropping up. We should therefore decide in advance whether he can or cannot be trusted with offices of state generally.

  As regards the immediate question in your last letter, I have no objection to his taking charge of the priests’ banquet at the Festival, if he lets his cousin, young Silvanus, stand by to see that he does not make a fool of himself. But I am against his watching the Games in the Circus from the Imperial box, where the eyes of the whole audience would be on him. I am also against his being made Germanicus’s assistant during the Latin Festival on the Alban Mount, merely to avoid the embarrassment of appointing him City Prefect at Rome while the Senate is absent; because if capable of the former appointment, he is also capable of the latter.

  In short, my dear Livia, I am anxious that a decision should be reached on this matter once and for all, to save us from further alternations of hope and despair. You are at liberty to show this to Antonia…

  Augustus wrote to Livia on another occasion:

  …While you are away, I shall certainly invite young Tiberius Claudius to dine every afternoon; rather than leave him to the exclusive company of his tutors Athenodorus and Sulpicius. If only he would show gr
eater concentration and behave with less capriciousness!—What he needs is someone to imitate: someone who holds himself up properly, walks well, and has graceful gestures. I am sorry for the poor fellow, because in serious matters, when not wool-gathering, he shows considerable nobility of principle.

  And again:

  My dear Livia,

  I’ll be damned if your grandson Tiberius Claudius hasn’t given me a very pleasant surprise! How on earth anyone who talks so confusedly can nevertheless speak so well in public—with such clearness, saying all that needs to be said—I simply do not understand.

  However, it is clear what decision Augustus eventually took; because he gave Claudius no honours except a seat in the College of Augurs, and listed him in his will among heirs to the sixth part of his estate—relatives so distant as to be practically no kin at all—and in the third degree, which meant that if any heir in the first degree died, or refused the bequest, and if the same happened with heirs of the second degree, he might have a prospect of receiving a bequest. The only legacy Claudius got in hard cash was a mere 1,000 gold pieces.

  5. When his uncle Tiberius succeeded Augustus, Claudius asked to be given some office of state. Tiberius sent him the consular regalia. Claudius then pressed for the duties as well as the empty title of a Consul. Tiberius’s reply ran: ‘The forty gold pieces I sent you were meant to be squandered on toys during the Saturnalian holidays.’ After that Claudius renounced all hopes of a political career, spending an obscure and idle life between his suburban mansion and a villa in Campania. Since several of his intimates were men of the lowest class, Claudius’s reputation for stupidity was further enhanced by stories of his drunkenness and love of gambling. Yet many men of distinction continued to visit him, and he never lost the people’s respect.

  6. The Knights twice chose Claudius as head of a deputation to the Consuls: the first time was when they requested the privilege of carrying Augustus’s body back to Rome on their shoulders; the second, when Sejanus’s conspiracy had been suppressed and they were offering felicitations. At Claudius’s appearance in the theatre or amphitheatre, the entire Equestrian Order would rise and take off their cloaks as a mark of honour. The Senate, for their part, voted that he should be made an extraordinary member of the Augustan priesthood, who were as a rule chosen by lot; and when one day his mansion burned down they decreed that it should be rebuilt at public expense, and that he should have the honour of addressing the House among men of consular rank. Tiberius, however, vetoed this second decree on the ground that Claudius’s ill-health prevented him from participating in debates; and undertook that the cost of rebuilding the mansion would be defrayed by the Privy Purse. Claudius was listed again only with heirs of the third degree—this time to a third part of the estate—in Tiberius’s will; but he did secure a legacy of some 25,000 gold pieces and a commendation (in a list of Tiberius’s relatives) to the Army, the Senate, and the People of Rome.

  7. As soon as Claudius’s nephew Gaius Caligula became Emperor and tried every means of gaining popularity, Claudius entered on his belated public career as Caligula’s colleague in a two-months’ consulship; and when he first entered the Forum with the consular rods, an eagle swooped down and perched on his shoulder. He also drew lots for a second consulship, and won one that would fall due four years later. Claudius often presided as Caligula’s substitute at the Games, where the audience greeted him with: ‘Long live the Emperor’s Uncle!’ and ‘Long live Germanicus’s Brother!’

  8. Nevertheless, these honours did not protect him from frequent insults. If ever he arrived a little late in the dining hall, there was nothing for it but to tour the tables in search of a vacant couch; and when he took his usual after-dinner nap the company would pelt him with olives and date stones. Some jokesters exercised their wit by putting slippers on his hands as he lay snoring, and then gave him a sudden blow of a whip or cane to wake him, so that he rubbed his eyes with them.

  9. At times he found himself in real danger. He was nearly deposed from his first consulship for having taken so long to set up statues of Caligula’s murdered brothers Nero and Drusus; and later had a variety of vexatious accusations brought against him, not only by strangers but by his own servants. When the Senate sent him, with other envoys, to felicitate Caligula, then in Germany, on the detection of a conspiracy headed by Lepidus and Gaetulicus,65 Caligula felt so annoyed that his uncle, of all people, had been entrusted with this mission—as if to a child in need of a guardian—that he nearly killed him. According to one account, Claudius was thrown fully dressed into the Rhine as soon as he arrived. Afterwards, by way of humiliation, Caligula gave orders that Claudius should be the last man of consular rank called upon to speak in any debate. The Senate even found that a will witnessed by him was a forgery; and, as a climax, he had to pay a fee of 100,000 gold pieces for entering Caligula’s new priesthood. This sum he borrowed from the Public Treasurers, pledging his estates as security; but could not meet the obligation, and they were formally advertised for sale in accordance with the law.

  10. Having spent the better part of his life in circumstances like these, Claudius became Emperor, at the age of fifty, by an extra ordinary accident. When the assassins ordered Caligula’s courtiers to disperse, pretending that he wished to be alone, Claudius went off with the rest and retired to a room called the Hermaeum; but presently heard about the murder and slipped away in alarm to a near-by balcony, where he hid trembling behind the door curtains. A Guardsman, wandering vaguely through the Palace, noticed a pair of feet beneath the curtain, pulled their owner out for identification and recognized him. Claudius dropped on the floor and clasped the soldier’s knees, but found himself acclaimed Emperor. He was then taken to the Palace guard-house where the men were angry, confused, and at a loss what to do; however, they placed him in a litter and, because his own bearers had decamped, took turns at carrying him to General Headquarters. Claudius looked the picture of terror and despair; in his passage through the streets everyone cast him pitying glances as if he were an innocent man being hurried to execution. Once safely in the Guards’ Camp, Claudius spent the night among the sentries, confident now that no immediate danger threatened, but feeling little hope for the future since the Consuls, with the approval of the Senate and the aid of City militiamen, had seized the Forum and Capitol, and were determined on restoring the Republic.

  When the tribunes of the people summoned him to visit the House and there clarify the situation, Claudius replied that he was being forcibly detained and could not come. The Senate, however, were far from unanimous on questions of practical policy; tiresome recriminations prolonged the debate and prevented the passing of any decree. Meanwhile, crowds surrounded the building and demanded a monarchy, expressly calling for Claudius; so he allowed the Guards to acclaim him Emperor and to swear allegiance. He also promised every man 150 gold pieces, which made him the first of the Caesars to purchase the loyalty of his troops.

  11. No sooner had Claudius’s power been established than he gave priority to the task of obliterating all records of those two days when there had been talk of a new Constitution. He ordered a general amnesty, and observed it himself, apart from executing a few of the colonels and junior officers who had conspired against Caligula—to make an example of them and because they had, he knew, planned his own murder as well. Next, to show his family devotion, he always used ‘By Augustus!’ as the most sacred and frequent of his oaths; made the Senate decree his grandmother Livia divine honours, as well as an elephant-drawn carriage for her image, to match Augustus’s, during ritual processions around the Circus; and instituted annual Circus Games on his father’s birthday, during which the image of his mother—now posthumously given the title of ‘Augusta’, which she had refused while alive—was paraded in a carriage, and public sacrifices were offered to both his parents. He also never missed a chance of keeping green the fame of his brother Germanicus; he entered a Greek comedy written by him for a theatrical contest at Naples, and had the
satisfaction of announcing that the judges awarded it first prize. Nor did he fail to honour Mark Antony; in one proclamation he begged the people ‘to celebrate my father Drusus’s birthday all the more heartily because it happens likewise to have been that of my maternal grandfather Antony.’ Moreover, he completed the marble arch near Pompey’s Theatre voted some years before by the Senate, but neglected by Caligula; and while annulling all Caligula’s edicts, would not allow the day of his assassination to be proclaimed a public festival, although it marked the beginning of his own reign.

  12. Claudius did not presume to accept excessive honorifics, even refusing that of ‘The Emperor Claudius’; and let the betrothal of his daughter, and the birthday of his grandson, be privately celebrated. He recalled no exile from banishment without Senatorial permission, and when wishing to bring the Guards’ Commander and some colonels into the House, or to have the judicial decisions of his provincial agents ratified, would ask the Senate for these privileges as a favour; and actually approached the Consuls for leave to hold fairs on his private estates. Often he sat on the Advisory Council during trials in magistrates’ courts; and at public games would rise with the audience and show his delight by clapping and shouting. When the tribunes of the people appeared before his judge’s chair, he apologized for not offering them seats—only lack of room on the platform, he said, condemned them to stand. This sort of behaviour endeared him to the people so soon that when a rumour went around of his having been ambushed and assassinated on the Ostia road, everyone was aghast and began accusing the troops of treachery and the Senators of murder. The magistrates had to bring two or three witnesses forward on the Rostra, followed by several more, to assure the City that he was safe and on the way home.