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J. OSGOOD, CLAUDIUS CAESAR: IMAGE AND POWER IN THE EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Pp. xiii + 357, illus. isbn9780521881814 (bound); 9780521708258 (paper). £55.00 (bound); £19.99 (paper).

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J. OSGOOD, CLAUDIUS CAESAR: IMAGE AND POWER IN THE EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Pp. xiii + 357, illus. isbn9780521881814 (bound); 9780521708258 (paper). £55.00 (bound); £19.99 (paper).

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  02 November 2012

Myles Lavan*
Affiliation:
University of St Andrews
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Abstract

Type
Reviews
Copyright
Copyright © The Author(s) 2012. Published by The Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies

The reign of Claudius illuminates many key features of the Julio-Claudian principate. His troubled accession to power, for example, highlights the issue of legitimacy. Not only does it allow us to observe how Claudius articulated his claim to power, it also invites us (as it must have invited contemporaries) to ask who else was a potential princeps. Underlying the lurid accounts of Claudius' dependence on his freedmen is the growing power and prestige of the imperial household which was a structural feature of the Julio-Claudian regime. His equally notorious ‘profligacy’ with the citizenship foregrounds the spread of citizen status in the provinces in this period. Josiah Osgood could hardly have made a better choice for a case study in the evolving political culture of the early principate.

Following an introductory survey of the Empire and a review of historical assessments of Claudius, O. elegantly interweaves chronological and thematic approaches over the book's twelve chapters. Analysis of key moments in Claudius' principate — the accession in a.d. 41 and conspiracy of a.d. 42 (ch. 1), the invasion of Britain in a.d. 44 (4), his censorship in a.d. 47 (7), the downfall of Messalina in a.d. 48 (10), preparations for succession (11) and Claudius' death (12) — is interspersed with discussion of diverse aspects of imperial politics, including imperial statues (2), provincial embassies (3), frontier policy (5 and 11), imperial cult and provincial governance (6), building projects (8), and administrative practice (9). Each chapter comes with a brief but masterful bibliographical essay. The book's wide range and its command of a vast body of scholarship make it an excellent introduction to the early Roman Empire.

This book complements — but certainly does not replace — Barbara Levick's Claudius (1990). O.'s book is, it must be said, a much better read. It also takes advantage of recent scholarship on the Empire and of several important new inscriptions from the provinces. But the most significant difference is its focus on image-making. O. explores how Claudius promoted his achievements to the many constituencies whose support he sought and traces the evolution of his image in response to events both in and out of his control. There are excellent discussions of the symbolic significance of, for example, the conquest of Britain, Claudius' marriage to Agrippina and the advancement of Nero.

O.'s Claudius is an emperor of remarkable ‘energy in governing’ (16). Like Levick, O. seeks to reveal the rationality of Claudius' actions. He sees signs of consistent policy and strategic thinking in inter alia his annexation of Lycia, Thrace and Judaea, his generosity with the citizenship, and — last but not least — his preparations for a smooth succession (which O. sees as one of his most substantial achievements). His failings are attributed not to disability or weakness of character but to the precariousness of his political situation. Claudius was ‘the prisoner of his position’ (223, 258). Because of Gaius' failure to mark him as a successor, his lack of military and public experience and his relatively weak connection to the Julian family, Claudius was from the beginning more vulnerable than any of his predecessors. To consolidate his hold on power, he was forced to deal harshly with potential rivals, to take measures to re-establish a dynasty and to give more power and prestige to his family and freedmen — all of which inevitably alienated senatorial opinion. He was also driven to undertake even loftier projects than his predecessors, setting himself heroic goals which were all too likely to end in failure — as happened with his efforts to reform provincial government and his plan to drain the Fucine lake. This is surely right. The excesses of Claudius' regime are just one symptom of the disease of deficient legitimacy that afflicted the Roman principate (the diagnosis is Veyne's: Le pain et le cirque (1974), 719).

As the subtitle (‘Image and Power’) insists, this is a book that takes representation seriously. It recognizes that ‘for many of his subjects the emperor was more a symbol, almost a fiction, but a powerful fiction’ (26) and is always attentive to how that fiction was constructed through a complex and ongoing dialogue between the ruler and his subjects. But it does not quite have the courage of its own convictions. Despite disavowing biography (24), it repeatedly slips back into a biographical mode. There is much here on Claudius' remarkable ‘energy’ (11, 15, 16, 180, 190), his ‘personality’ (147, 154, 157), his ‘strong concern’ for justice (220, 201) and his ‘tenacity’ (114), thoroughness (119) and ‘vigilance’ (120). It is perhaps a pity that O. was not more radical in focusing on the emperor as image, fiction and fantasy — rather than perpetuating the ultimately futile search for the ‘real’ Claudius.

The book aspires to offer not just a narrative of Claudius' reign, but also new insights into the principate itself (27–8). Here it is less successful. O. has his sights on Fergus Millar's reactive model of imperial government. Again and again he insists that Claudius was not a ‘passive’ ruler, pointing to his decision to invade Britain and what he sees as clear and consistent policies on, for example, the frontiers, the imperial cult, the finances and the propagation and manipulation of his image. But even if we were to grant these points (and they are not uncontroversial), they would still not invalidate Millar's point that the vast majority of the emperor's activities — and the vast majority of administrative decisions — were reactive rather than active. Millar's model is vulnerable to other lines of attack, e.g. to the arguments that imperial decisions on particular cases could become general rules and that there is in any case a survival bias favouring evidence of the reactive and adjudicatory aspects of Roman administration over its active, policy-making activities (see Bleicken, Zum Regierungsstil des römischen Kaisers (1982) and Burton in Chiron 32 (2002), 249–80). I am not convinced there is much to be gained on this front by a study of a single emperor.