“I am entering on the
history of a period rich in disasters, frightful in its wars, torn by civil
strife, and even in peace full of horrors. Four emperors perished by the sword.
There were three civil wars; there were more with foreign enemies; there were
often wars that had both characters at once. There was success in the East, and
disaster in the West…. Now too Italy was prostrated by disasters either
entirely novel, or that recurred only after a long succession of ages; cities
in Campania's richest plains were swallowed up and overwhelmed; Rome was wasted
by conflagrations, its oldest temples consumed, and the Capitol itself fired by
the hands of citizens. Sacred rites were profaned; there was profligacy in the
highest ranks; the sea was crowded with exiles, and its rocks polluted with
bloody deeds. In the capital there were yet worse horrors. Nobility, wealth,
the refusal or the acceptance of office, were grounds for accusation, and
virtue ensured destruction. The rewards of the informers were no less odious
than their crimes; for while some seized on consulships and priestly offices,
as their share of the spoil, others on procuratorships, and posts of more
confidential authority, they robbed and ruined in every direction amid
universal hatred and terror. Slaves were bribed to turn against their masters,
and freedmen to betray their patrons; and those who had not an enemy were
destroyed by friends.”—Roman historian and politician Tacitus (AD 56 – c. 120),
The Histories (109 AD), translated by Alfred John Church and
William Jackson Brodribb
Believe it or not, I felt
a strange sense of comfort along with a shock of recognition as I read this
passage from the first book of Tacitus’ Histories, amid a week marked by
two horrible wars abroad and disorder in the party controlling the House of
Representatives.
The recognition, of
course, came with events eerily similar to those involving the U.S. in the
first quarter of the 21st century, including a Capitol coming under assault
from its own citizens, the refugees flooding the borders, the mocking of the
sacred, and corruption, crime, and betrayal everywhere.
The comfort derived from
the realization that other civilizations have experienced—and even survived—as much,
if not more. The era covered in the great writer’s Histories extended
from the chaos after the death of the emperor Nero in AD 69 to AD 96, the end
of Domitian's reign.
But Domitian was followed
by nearly a century in which “The Five Good Emperors” brought Rome to the height
of its reach and influence.
Maybe then, as now, much
depends on the credibility and stability of the leaders of the land.
(The image accompanying
this post is The Course of Empire: Destruction, created by the English-born
American painter Thomas Cole in 1836. It is the four in a series of five
paintings tracing the rise and fall of Rome. The concluding painting in the
series, if you want to know, was Desolation.
For a succinct
analysis of what Tacitus can teach contemporary journalists about how “to hold
those in power to account without jeopardising their respectability, and,
ultimately, their credibility,” I recommend the “Tacitus, Rhetoric, and Reporting Power” post from the “Hestia” blog of Trinity College Dublin
Classics.”)
