Bestselling author Robert Harris, known for his captivating thriller “Precipice,” which explores a Prime Minister’s romantic entanglement during World War I, shifts his focus back to ancient Rome in his new release, “Agrippa.”
The novel revisits a historical backdrop that Harris has previously explored in his acclaimed works, including “Pompeii” and the Cicero trilogy—comprising “Lustrum,” “Imperium,” and “Dictator.” The character Agrippa features prominently in these earlier narratives, serving as the engineer responsible for the aqueduct in “Pompeii” and as Octavius’s loyal lieutenant in the conclusion of “Dictator.”
“Agrippa” delves into a tumultuous era that spans the final days of Julius Caesar’s reign and the ascent of his heir, Octavius. This period is marked by significant events: Caesar’s military campaigns, his assassination, the subsequent civil war, and the protracted power struggle with Mark Antony that ultimately resulted in Octavius becoming the singular ruler of Rome. The story is narrated by Agrippa, Octavius’s closest associate and confidant, who is often acknowledged for his accomplishments rather than his personal narrative. Harris provides him a voice.
Originally named Marcus Vipsanius, Agrippa earned his nickname from the circumstances of his birth; entering the world feet first, he tragically caused his mother’s death—a painful birth, referred to as aegri partus, which eventually evolved into “Agrippa.” This somber introduction sets a tone that permeates the narrative. In addition to his military exploits, Agrippa was instrumental in several of Rome’s monumental construction projects, the most notable being the Pantheon, which bears his name: “Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, in his third consulship, did this.”
The novel’s structure hinges on the dichotomy of Agrippa as both a warrior and a builder. It is presented as Agrippa’s memoir, penned towards the end of his life, reflecting on a significant personal disappointment: the infidelity of his young wife. The memoir is not intended for public consumption; it emerges as a candid expression of a man shaped by his experiences, and Harris fully embraces this perspective, resulting in a narrative that feels like the work of a doer rather than a storyteller.
This commitment is evident in the early chapters depicting Agrippa’s upbringing. Harris portrays a father who withholds affection, possibly attributing blame to Agrippa for his mother’s death, along with cruel taunts from peers labeling him a “mother-killer.” Such a harsh childhood often breaks spirits, yet it forged Agrippa into a resilient fighter:
“I would confront anyone who opposed me. Even when I faced defeat, I developed a reputation for reckless aggression that ensured my solitude. Over time, the name transformed from a source of shame to a badge of invincibility. I had survived a perilous birth. I had defied nature. My strength felt extraordinary.”
This reputation leads him to young Octavius, Julius Caesar’s grand-nephew, resulting in an inseparable bond between the cunning, slight Octavius and the straightforward, robust Agrippa. Their contrasting personalities propel the narrative. In many respects, the story also belongs to Octavius; he is introduced early on and remains integral until the conclusion, with his wife being the last person Agrippa interacts with before his death.
The assassination of Caesar tests and ultimately strengthens their friendship. Octavius is positioned as Caesar’s chosen successor, and Agrippa steps into the role of his trusted aide. Together, they confront Mark Antony, depicted memorably as “a statue of Hercules holding a club in one hand and a wineskin in the other.” They broker a temporary peace with him to defeat Cassius and Brutus at the Battle of Philippi, only to turn against Antony again once he allies with Cleopatra.
This lifetime is filled with bloodshed, and Harris does not shy away from illustrating the toll it takes. The relentless conflicts, shifting allegiances, and cycles of trust and betrayal exhaust Agrippa, leading him to increasingly focus on engineering. “History records numerous soldiers and statesmen, but seldom acknowledges engineers,” he notes. “Yet these are the individuals who truly made Rome great.” Despite this, his reputation—and Octavius’s reliance on him—continues to draw him back into military campaigns until nearly the end.
For those fascinated by ancient Rome, “Agrippa” offers a wealth of historical figures, including Caesar, Antony, and Cicero, alongside notable battles like Philippi and Actium. However, this also reveals a central trade-off within the book. Harris immerses himself so deeply in Agrippa’s stoic and understated persona that the writing often resembles a diary, summarizing significant events in sparse, straightforward sentences, leaving little room for dramatic tension. For instance, a scene depicting Octavius and Agrippa’s arrival for a clandestine meeting during the conflict with Antony reads:
“The villa was located just outside the town, by the shores of Lake Volsini. It appeared large and ancient, at the end of a long drive. Initially, it seemed deserted. I suspected a trap. We drew our swords. Inside, a fire had just been prepared. A steward appeared.”
Readers familiar with the terse style of Caesar’s own writings may find this approach acceptable; however, general readers might struggle with the stilted dialogue and the scarcity of high-stakes drama. The occasional pithy observations, such as “Hypocrisy is the essence of diplomacy” or “All power depends on force. All force depends on money,” provide some compensation, along with bursts of genuine drama, such as Caesar rallying his troops by tearing off his helmet. Additionally, Harris introduces a surprising twist towards the conclusion.
Nonetheless, those expecting the vibrant flair of “Pompeii” or the brisk pacing of the Cicero trilogy may find themselves wanting more. “Agrippa” is vital for those dedicated to understanding this historical period, but it is not tailored for readers seeking fast-paced fiction. It demands patience.
“Agrippa” may not be a quick read, but like its protagonist, it stands steady, stoic, and resilient enough to warrant the kind of tribute that might be inscribed in the Pantheon: “Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, did this.”
Agrippa by Robert Harris
Penguin Random House
384 pages
Price: Rs 999
