The Annals: The Reigns of Tiberius, Claudius and Nero

by Publius Cornelius Tacitus, J.C. Yardley (Translator), Anthony A. Barrett (Introduction and Notes)

Here is a lively new translation of Cornelius Tacitus' timeless history of three of Rome's most memorable emperors. Tacitus, who condemns the depravity of these rulers, which he saw as proof of the corrupting force of absolute power, writes caustically of the brutal and lecherous Tiberius, the weak and cuckolded Claudius, and "the artist" Nero. In particular, his gripping account of the bloody reigns of Tiberius and Nero brims with plots, murder, poisoning, suicide, uprisings, death, and destruction. The Annals also provides a vivid account of the violent suppression of the revolt led by Boudicca in Britain, the great fire of Rome under Nero, and the subsequent bloody persecution of the Christians. J. C. Yardley's translation is vivid without sacrificing accuracy, and is based on the recent Latin Heubner text, with variations noted in an appendix. Anthony A. Barrett's introduction and notes provide invaluable historical and cultural context. This superb edition also includes maps, a glossary of Roman terms and place names, and a full index of names and places.

About the Series: For over 100 years Oxford World's Classics has made available the broadest spectrum of literature from around the globe. Each affordable volume reflects Oxford's commitment to scholarship, providing the most accurate text plus a wealth of other valuable features, including expert introductions by leading authorities, voluminous notes to clarify the text, up-to-date bibliographies for further study, and much more.

Genres: History, Classics, Nonfiction, Ancient History, Ancient, Roman, Politics

592 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 116

About the author

born perhaps 55
died perhaps 120

From the death of Augustus in 14 Histories and Annals , greatest works of Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Roman public official, concern the period to Domitian in 96.

Publius Cornelius Tacitus served as a senator of the empire. The major portions examine the reigns of Tiberius, Claudius, Nero and those four emperors, who reigned in the year. They span the empire to the years of the first Jewish war in 70. One enormous four-books long lacuna survives in the texts.

Publius Cornelius Tacitus discusses oratory in dialogue format in Dialogus de oratoribus , Germania in De origine et situ Germanorum , and biographical notes about Gnaeus Julius Agricola, his father-in-law, primarily during his campaign in Britannia (see De vita et moribus Iulii Agricolae ).

Publius Cornelius Tacitus, an author, wrote in the latter part of the silver age of Latin literature.

Reviews

[Jan-Maat]

This is less accessible than Tacitus' Histories, in which the narrative of the civil war and the German revolt, actually aided by the richness of detail, gives coherence to the whole work. By contrast The Annals covers a longer period fairly strictly year by year which breaks up the flows of particular events and works against analysis.

Tacitus may be working from sources that are less detailed in The Annals, he is certainly at a greater remove from the events, while his own experience as a Senator under the Emperor Domitian probably colours his attitudes to the treason trials under Tiberius and the plots against Nero.

Tacitus has the insidious habit of writing opinion as though it were fact, for example Tiberius giving himself over to malevolent thoughts and secret orgies on Capri is a statement, but it seems unlikely that Tacitus had access to Tiberius diary (Dear Diary, to distract myself from my malevolent thoughts I'm going to have an orgy, just a secret little one, me, three hundred ballet dancers and half the sailors of the Imperial fleet). Tacitus' negative slants become hard to take at face value. Of course it is a power grab when Livia seals off the house in which Augustus is dying and holds off announcing his death until Tiberius arrives, but since at the time before Augustus the Roman world had a series of civil wars, securing a peaceful succession is also perhaps, wise, prudent and stateswomanlike?

There are reasons for his negative attitude. Firstly his sources include the writings of Senators, and he himself was a Senator, people used to dealing with and possibly resenting Emperors and their own loss of power relative to the good old days of the Republic - and here Tacitus nails his colours to the mast early on writing about Augustus' reign "The country had been transformed, and there was nothing left of the fine old Roman character."

Later he goes further and defines his philosophy of history. Men were originally equal and good in his view, (you can imagine Hobbes choking on his breakfast beer as he read that) while inequality led to despotism and a fall from the Golden Age. This sounds nice but he qualifies this by telling us that the Twelve Tables (the first Roman law code circa 450 BC) were the last equitable laws. Since under those laws slavery was accepted as an already existing institution and there were restrictions on marriage between those of the Senatorial order and plebeians, Tacitus' idea of equality seems somewhat peculiar. Later equalising legislation like the land reforms of the Brothers Grachii is dismissed by Tacitus as as "class warfare". Michael Grant, the translator doesn't give a gloss as to what the original Latin was, presumably something equally uncomplimentary but with a Roman twist.

Therefore by definition things for Tacitus are always getting worse in the Roman world. The time when things were good was long ago. Standards today are slipping like togas, revealing secret orgies all over the place.

But on the slightly positive side this does mean that Tacitus quite likes his noble savages. The more savage, the more noble, because they are primitive and simple like the ancient Romans. They fight for freedom, which Tacitus seems to quite like, so long as this freedom is restricted to regions beyond the Imperial frontier like Germany (he is not keen on people within the Empire rebelling for freedom). So Arminus, leader of the freedom loving Germans, gets some good speeches as does the Caledonian leader in the Agricola.

This does mean that his views do seem to be out of tune with Roman public opinion even as he describes it. People seem to enjoy Nero's theatre performances (unless they are old style virtuous Romans from the countryside), the chariot races and the taverns built round Augustus' naval lake. Tacitus dislikes all these things.

Ovid at the beginning of The Art of Love compares the rustic theatre of Romulus to that of his own day, where men and women go to see and be seen, seduction is a hunt, a military triumph an opportunity to impress your sweetheart. Of a sudden Ovid conjures up a history of Rome that is driven by sexual, not military, conquest. Such a viewpoint must have been anathema for Tacitus. For him the relative good times of peace after decades of civil war were a sad fall from the days of ancient virtue when power struggles involved armies and not informants.

Anyway a slight oddity in his history is his relatively sympathetic treatment of mutinous soldiers at the beginning of Tiberius' reign. Their pay was low, their service periods had been unilaterally extended under Augustus, they were subject to disciplinary beatings, and Tacitus describes their clothes as rags. When Germanicus at that point an heir to Imperial power, later he was dead, some suspect the relationship between those two data points is not coincidental arrives at a camp to smooth things over, soldiers seize his hand as if to kiss it, but instead slip his fingers in their mouths so he can feel that they have no teeth left (presumably army rations were provided in the form of soup) to demonstrate the privations they have endured in the service of the Empire. Germanicus' response to this vile mutiny perpetrated by these scarred veterans is:
(i) to promise improvements to the conditions of service
(ii) having the ringleaders flogged to death
(iii) getting the toothless soldiers to attack the Germans.
Which they successfully do. Either toothless, ragged and aged soldiers are a mysteriously effective combat force or Tacitus is having his cake here and enjoying eating it though to be fair that cake was going to go to waste, what with the general lack of teeth (although he may be reflecting his sources here). Still you can't help thinking that the mutineers actually had fair grounds for complaint, even if this was jolly unRoman on their part.

The final awkwardness about reading The Annals is that only two bits have survived: the end of Augustus' reign and much of Tiberius', and then the end of Claudius' reign and a good chunk of Nero's. Sadly no medieval scribe thought that Caligula making his horse a senator was interesting enough to be worth copying. So much for the judgement of medieval monks. The translator puts this down to Tacitus' difficult prose style, which he tries not to imitate. So much for his unRoman work ethic.

One of the great features of Tacitus' style is that his prejudices are so extreme that they become entertaining (unless you share them, in which case Tacitus is an ideal read). Tacitus comes across as the bitter bastard child of a snide newspaper columnist and an internet troll. He doesn't pass up on opportunities to insinuate the unpleasant and derogatory.

Then there is a timelessness to his depiction of the business of an empire managing its client states. When one puppet ruler is deposed by the angry population and has his ears cut off I couldn't help but think about Hamid Kharzai though he, perhaps even to his own surprise, has managed to retain ownership of his own ears (if anyone remembers who he was). The players change, but the game's the same.

There is also an insight into the early Roman empire with dependant kings in Thrace fighting each other and the weird repetitiveness of taxation leading to rebellions in Gaul and Batavia, as well as the murder of a governor in Spain. It would have been nice to see some analysis here from Tacitus who had been a pro-consul of Asia, but possibly with an army that was able to crush rebellions (whose soldiers enjoyed the opportunities for loot to supplement wages and whose officers were keen on recognition for bold deeds) there was no incentive for moderation in Roman extortion although one of the Roman innovations in colonialism was the introduction of a standard of not completely looting the newly acquired bit of empire.

We get to see something of the operation of the senate too. Overwhelmed by a moral panic that too many criminals are evading Roman justice by claiming sanctuary rights in temples, the Senate decides to audit all the temples to determine if they should be allowed to offer sanctuary. Cue deputations from round the Mediterranean of priests with tales of what the gods did to justify the sanctuary rights they offer ,all of which have to be duly audited by the Senate.

Finally there are these nice snippets of information, tribes moving in search of better land on the German frontier (just the kind of thing that triggered The Conquest of Gaul and Rome's advance towards the Rhine), collapsing theatres (see what happens when you have no building codes), brawling ballet fans and the Emperor Nero having a night out on the town Roman style (caution: involves punch ups with random strangers).

[Callum's Column · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tacitus is considered one of the greatest historians of Rome. He wrote in the early first century AD, with his magnum opus being Annals and Histories. The former covers the Julio-Claudian Dynasty post-Augustus, from 14–68 AD, and the latter covers the years from 69–96 AD. Both are featured in the Great Books of the Western World by Encyclopedia Britannica. This review focuses on the Annals; a review of Histories is forthcoming, which will focus more on Tacitus’s moralist historiography. Unfortunately, large tracts of Annals have been lost, including all sections related to Caligula’s reign and most sections related to Claudius’s reign. Nonetheless, what survives provides terrifying insight into Roman imperialist tyranny.

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Tacitus used both primary and secondary sources. He had access to the Acta Senatus (Roman Senate records), collections of contemporary letters and writings, earlier histories from people like Pliny the Elder, Fabius Rusticus, and Aufidius Bassus, and personal knowledge of the machinations of Roman politics. Tacitus does not take these sources at face value. He instead interrogates the historical record, auguring, “So obscure are the greatest events, as some take for granted any hearsay, whatever its source; others turn into falsehoods, and both errors find encouragement with posterity.” Tacitus’s conclusions are heavily influenced by Thucydidean realist historiography, which is augmented by a moralist lens—often juxtaposing his historical subjects with the more virtuous time of Republican Rome.

The Annals begins with Tiberius’s ascension to princeps of Rome. Initial republican caution and senatorial liberty proved fleeting. Tiberius quickly descends into paranoia and cruelty; murder is normalised, senate authority deteriorates, and the praetorian guard grows powerful. These phenomena lead to Claudius—chosen to rule by the praetorian guard after Caligula’s murder. Claudius’s reign was shrouded in intrigue, crescendoing with his second wife, Agrippina, killing him so her son, Nero, could rule. Nero’s Rome descends into spectacle, barbarism, and moral decay. Nobles, philosophers, and even his own mother are murdered at his behest. Tacitus’s anthology ends shortly before Nero’s death. This abrupt ending underscores the costs of autocracy—personal degradation, terror, and murder.

The decline of liberty and the rise of tyranny is a persistent theme throughout Tacitus’s Annals. The Roman republic was in living memory when Tiberius rose to power. However, those who stood the most to gain from its return—senators and nobles—were the most supine. They sought his favour but also feared his displeasure. Tiberius despised them for it, yet accepted this power. The gradual concentration of unchecked power created a vicious circle. Imperial profligacy and wanton murder tyrannised Rome, with murder of the ruler seeming to be the only recourse. Fearing for their own lives, the emperors ruled more tyrannically, and so on. Rome’s nobility was also culpable for this decline; many families used this new political norm of violence to purge their rivals on false charges of treason. As Lord Acton stated: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Another decline in liberty is that of neighbouring civilizations. Over the course of the Annals, Germania and Britain were conquered, and Parthia was subjugated. Roman expansionism endured despite its head rotting. However, Tacitus extols honourable acts of resistance. Boudica, a British woman, led an unsuccessful campaign against Roman imperialism. Agrippina the Elder—granddaughter of Augustus and mother of Caligula—refused to bow to Tiberius’s descent into tyranny. Thrasea, a senator, led a stoic opposition to Nero, exclaiming his disgust at Nero’s behaviour and the senate’s obsequiousness. However, Tacitus not-so-subtly reminds the reader that honourable resistance had become impossible in imperial Rome; all those placed on Tacitus’s pedestal of liberty were killed. Nonetheless, they were martyrs.

Another recurring theme is the erosion of Roman morals. Tacitus contrasts the decaying virtue of Rome with the resilience of the Germanic tribes, who fiercely resisted Roman domination. He further laments the transition from republic to empire, observing that Rome’s early greatness was rooted in both military power and republican virtue. The diffusion of power between the senate, consuls, tribunes, and more led to personal liberty and relative prosperity. What passed for imperial rule often bordered on the absurd—elaborate displays of loyalty to the sovereign and ritualistic proclamations became commonplace, turning governance into a spectacle that might seem comical if its consequences were not so tragic. Lives, careers, and families were destroyed over petty grievances. Tacitus closes with Nero serving as the final act in a tragic drama, where any lingering pretence of republican order gives way to murderous tyranny.

America’s authoritarian drift is often compared to Rome’s shift from republic to empire. The Founding Fathers themselves drew inspiration from the Roman Republic, as seen in the Federalist Papers. Yet this historical analogy is misleading. Rome’s republican institutions were shattered by a series of bloody civil wars that cleared the way for despotism. While America is deeply polarised, it is not teetering on the edge of civil war. Nonetheless, with the ongoing attacks on liberal-democratic institutions, there are some historical echoes. Like imperial Rome, America’s descent into authoritarianism is wrapped in republican rhetoric; the first to kiss the ring in Trump’s second administration were America’s richest and most powerful individuals; Congress’s servility is concerningly similar to Rome’s supine senate; and the continued concentration of power in one man is leading to the moral disintegration of the state.

There are two lessons from Tacitus that are applicable to the present day. The first lesson is that once-great republics can fall into tyranny, and belated honourable resistance may prove futile. Instead, liberty must be fought for as soon as a threat to it arises. This requires civic virtue. There are millions of Americans opposing the second Trump administration. However, more needs to be done. Political renewal in the Democratic Party is required, and more people need to be mobilised. The second lesson is that American empire may endure under autocratic inanity due to its military and economic pre-eminence. Indeed, Rome’s empire reached its zenith during its imperial period and lasted several hundred years. Tacitus’s Annals is a cautionary tale for despotism. His observations on the corrosive nature of unchecked power, penned nearly two millennia ago, echo with undiminished relevance today. Tacitus’s writings are a must-read for students of politics and lovers of liberty.

[Roy Lotz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Posterity grants everybody the glory he is due.

In preparation for my trip to Rome, I decided that it was finally time to read Tacitus. I had been meaning to for a long while. Edward Gibbon, my favorite historian, always spoke of Tacitus in terms of deep reverence; and when your idols have idols, you had better see why.

The Annals is Tacitus’s last major historical work, considered by many to be his masterpiece. In it, he covers the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero—though the books covering Caligula’s reign have been lost to time. As the title suggests, Tacitus takes an annalistic approach to his history, keeping the narrative in strict chronological order. With such a style, it is difficult to pull away from the trees and see the forest; rather, the reader often feels lost in the thickets of battles, intrigues, and executions. The final effect is that of being pulled into the history, absorbed in its dramas and scandals, too engrossed for analysis.

Tacitus’s proclaimed motive for writing his history is the defects of his predecessors: “The histories of Tiberius, Gaius, Claudius, and Nero were distorted because of fear while they reigned, and, when they were gone, were composed with animosities still fresh.” This leads to Tacitus’s famous promise to write his record “without rancour or bias” since he was “far removed” from the events recorded therein. This is, of course, a dubious claim, especially once you peruse his book. The Annals is often little more than a catalogue of crimes committed by the emperors, related in merciless succession by Tacitus.

Hardly a day went by, it seems, without a poisoning, a false conviction, a forced suicide, the torture of slaves, the murder of relatives, or a mass execution. The lucky ones got off with an exile, though half the time a centurion was later sent to finish the job. All of this is related succinctly, dispassionately, but no less vividly by Tacitus; and the cumulative effect is overpowering. The book is absolutely riveting; so often I could not put it down, even as I felt my stomach tightening from the stream of tragedy.

The only thing that breaks this chain of woe are forays into the provinces—the north and the east, to be precise—wherein certain kings and tribes occasionally rouse up trouble, until the Roman legions come in to ‘pacify’ the region. These episodes of provincial warfare are often a great relief from corrupt scenes of Rome, not to mention excellent examples of military history, with rousing depictions of battles, stratagems, and the horrors of war. The best of these sections come near the beginning, when Tacitus relates the career of Germanicus, the Roman Alexander, whose military victories were a cause of constant jealousy on Tiberius’s part.

It is difficult to evaluate Tacitus as a historian, since he came from such a different time, and wrote with different aims and motives. Lamentably, but not surprisingly, he most often does not disclose his sources, which makes it nearly impossible to evaluate the veracity of most of his claims. Tacitus’s aim is relatively narrow, confining himself to political and military history, with no concern for economic, social, artistic, or religious history. He is generally not concerned with seeking causes or analyzing patterns. Rather, Tacitus sees history as a moral and a practical exercise, recording evil deeds so they can be avoided, and good deeds so they can be imitated.

Where Tacitus excels is not as a historian as such, but an author. His famously terse prose doubtless loses most of its tang through translation. Even with this loss, however, Tacitus is a writer of the highest caliber. He is capable of evoking scenes, portraying personalities, depicting battles in just a few lines, which nonetheless can knock the reader over with their dramatic power. The combination of Tacitus’s own political experience with his keen literary talent serves to make him a rival of the best novelists as a storyteller. It is difficult to exaggerate how exciting this book can be.

I feel very happy now, for I'm sure that I made an excellent choice. No other book could have given me such a vivid portrait of Ancient Rome. Now I can join Gibbon as an admirer of Tacitus, and will soon join Gibbon as another pilgrim to that ancient city.

[Paul Haspel · Rating 5 out of 5]

The annual ups and downs of ordinary life in Imperial Rome sometimes seem just as important to the Roman historian Tacitus as are the world-shaking historical events that typically make the history books – wars and disasters and so forth. And yet Tacitus has his reasons for focusing, in his book The Annals, on the quotidian as well as the extraordinary.

Early in The Annals, Tacitus concedes that “Many of the things I have reported – and will report – may seem small and trivial in the recording”, but then he suggests that he has good reasons for making his focus different from that of earlier historians. “My work,” he writes, “is in a narrow field and inglorious: peace undisturbed or modestly provoked, Rome’s sorry affairs, an emperor inattentive to imperial expansion. It is not useless, however, this scrutiny of things at first sight trivial. From these, great events’ stirrings often arise” (p. 139). Tacitus understands that focusing on the seemingly little things can help one understand better the true significance of the big things. That difference in focus is part of what gives Tacitus’ Annals its extraordinary power.

Tacitus lived from about 55 to 120 A.D., and not much is known about him. He seems to have come from a family of equestrian rank – lower-level nobility, just below the senatorial level – and to have understood that he owed his family’s rise in status to the Flavian dynasty of emperors. His life spanned the reigns of some good emperors (Vespasian, Titus, Nerva, Trajan), some forgettable emperors (Galba, Otho, Vitellius) and some really bad ones (Nero and Domitian). It is understandable, therefore, that Tacitus, in composing the Annals, focused closely on the leadership decisions made by different emperors, and on what those leadership decisions said about each of those leaders of what was then the world’s greatest empire.

The Annals covers, one year at a time, the period from the imperium of Tiberius to that of Nero, or the years 14 to 68 A.D. While there are some gaps in the existing manuscript of this historical work – for instance, the entire imperium of Caligula (37-41 A.D.), a period that no doubt would have made for vivid if horrifying reading – what we have is of profound value.

Tiberius, who ruled from 14 to 37 A.D., is probably best known to the people of modern times as the man who was emperor of Rome at the time of Jesus of Nazareth’s ministry; it is Tiberius’ image that Jesus notes on a Roman denarius coin when he tells the Pharisees to “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar’s, and unto God the things which be God’s” (Luke 20:25).

The picture of Tiberius that emerges from the Annals is sometimes favourable, and sometimes – not so much. In 21 A.D., when a Gallic rebellion occurs among a tribe called the Aedui, Tiberius is publicly criticized for not making more of a show of moving against the Gauls. In response, “Tiberius’ show of concern was ever more unstinting: without altering location or demeanour he spent his days as usual, either from loftiness of spirit or because he had discovered the trouble to be limited and less that people said” (p. 107).

What Tiberius’ critics do not know is that the emperor has dispatched a Roman military force that met and decisively defeated the Aedui. When Tiberius provides this news to the Senate, he adds that he stayed in Rome because only at Rome could he keep all the affairs of the vast empire under safe and stable control; “Now that fear is not the inducement,” he adds, “I will go and observe the situation and settle it.” And when a flattering politician tries to get Tiberius to celebrate a triumph, Tiberius quickly settles that nonsense: “I am not so devoid of glory!...After mastering the most spirited peoples and holding – in my prime – or declining numerous triumphs, I am not going to seek at my age, after a suburban sojourn, a meaningless reward” (p. 108).

Claudius, who reigned from 41 to 54 A.D., is remembered as the emperor who brought a measure of stability to Rome after the chaotic four-year imperium of Caligula. His physical disabilities seem to have caused him to suffer scorn among some of the leaders of strength-obsessed Rome, but the manner in which he kept his focus squarely on the administration of the empire seems to have won him respect, as Robert Graves chronicles in the historical novels I, Claudius (1934) and Claudius the God (1935).

Claudius may also gain sympathy because of the flagrant adulteries of his wife Messalina, who even went so far as to schedule a public marriage ceremony with her lover Silius. “I know it will seem incredible that any mortal possessed such recklessness in a community that knows all and hushes nothing,” Tacitus assures his Roman readers. “But nothing has been fabricated to amaze. The stories and writings of the older generation I pass on” (p. 209).

As it turns out, Messalina’s public marriage to Silius, when she was already married to the most powerful man on Earth, was a Ponte Fabrizio too far. Tacitus observes with grim satisfaction that “Here ended Claudius’ ignorance about his household. Soon afterwards, he acknowledged and punished his wife’s crimes” (p. 208).

And then there was Nero, who ruled from 54 to 68 A.D. Tacitus sets forth Nero’s infamous deeds. His mother, Agrippina the Younger, was the fourth wife of Claudius, and it was widely speculated that she might have poisoned Claudius in order to place Nero on the throne. Yet cheaters never prosper; within one year after his accession to the throne, Nero has sidelined his mother, and powerful Romans abandoned the once-feared Agrippina once it was clear she had lost Nero’s favour. Tacitus sees a rough sort of justice in this reversal of fortune, commenting that “Of all things mortal, none is so baseless and fluid as the fame of power reliant on force not its own” (p. 253).

Four years later, Nero seems to have decided that even a sidelined Agrippina was potentially dangerous to him. Tacitus sees Nero’s murder of his mother Agrippina in 59 A.D. as “the finale that for many years Aggripina saw and scorned. Consulting astrologers about Nero, she was told that he would rule – and kill his mother. ‘Let him kill me,’ she said, ‘provided that he rule’” (p. 279).

As examples of Nero’s unstable and cruel behaviour proliferated, so did plots against Nero – plots that were “vast in size and unavailing” (p. 305), and were punished most cruelly.

Tacitus tells the reader about the Great Fire that destroyed much of Rome in 64 A.D., emphasizing the existence of rumours that Nero ordered had ordered the conflagration in order to replace the “dirty” old Rome with a shining new city of Neropolis. “To destroy this rumour,” Tacitus states, “Nero supplied as perpetrators, and executed with elaborate punishments, people popularly called Christians, hated for their perversions.” Tacitus adds, for the benefit of his Roman readership, that “The name’s source was one Christus, executed by the governor Pontius Pilate when Tiberius held power” (p. 325)

Tacitus’ feelings about the Christian faith could not be more clear, as he writes that “The pernicious creed, suppressed at the time, was bursting forth again, not only in Judaea, where this evil originated, but even in Rome, into which, from all directions, everything appalling and shameful flows and foregathers.” As far as Tacitus is concerned, the Christians were convicted for “hatred of humankind” more than for arson; but he does not approve of the way in which the Christians were publicly executed – “covered in animal skins they were to perish torn by dogs, or affixed to crosses to be burnt for nocturnal illumination when light faded.” The reason Tacitus disapproves of the executions is that they “aroused pity. Guilty and deserving of extreme measures though they were, the Christians’ annihilation seemed to arise not from public utility but for one man’s brutality” (p. 325).

Nero’s lack of character also shows through, by contrast, in terms of how some of the most famous Romans responded to his machinations against them. The Stoic philosopher and playwright Seneca, a long-time advisor to Nero, learns of Nero’s intent against him, states his intent to die honourably, and tries to console his friends who are denouncing Nero’s injustice. To his disconsolate friends, Seneca states, “Where are philosophy’s teachings, where is reason’s response to the future looming, pondered over so many years? Who is not familiar with Nero’s brutality? Nothing remains after murdered mother and brother but to add the slaughter of teacher and guide to the heap!” (p. 334)

And the poet and literary critic Petronius caps his own suicide with something of a Parthian shot, letting Nero know his true feelings once he has passed beyond Nero’s authority: “Not even in his will – unlike most victims – did he flatter Nero….Indeed he catalogued the Emperor’s enormities under the names of partners male and female, including each perversion’s novelty. The list he sealed and sent to Nero, and broke his seal ring so it could not later be used to manufacture trouble” (pp. 348-49).

Tacitus recounts all this history in a style that is discursive and elliptical, often addressing his subject indirectly rather than attacking it head-on as Livy or Suetonius would have done. The graceful and flowing literary style of Tacitus may have been part of what made him Thomas Jefferson’s favourite classical writer. It certainly gives Tacitus’ work a contemporary feeling for the modern reader; as he did, so too do we live in an era when the decisions of powerful leaders have profoundly important consequences for all.

[David Sarkies · Rating 5 out of 5]

A Game of Rome
27 September 2015

As I was reading this for the second time I simply could not believe how brutal this piece of literature was, and what is more impressive is that it is based on real life events. It is authors like Tacitus that make me want to throw modern historical fiction into the fire place. In fact he is the one reason that I simply won't write historical fiction because he has set the standard so high that at this stage in my life I simply could not even think of equalling, let alone exceeding, his mastery of story telling. In fact, why don't historians write like Tacitus these days? Why do that have to be so academic and dry when you could write a rollicking good story without having to create historical fiction.

Actually, I have to say that this story is actually more brutal than A Game of Thrones. Consider this, you have Agrippina, who is almost a carbon copy of:



Nero:



Though I have to admit that Nero was nowhere near as psychotic as Joffrey was at his age. Hey, you could even consider Arminius to basically be this guy:



And if you like the fact that George R R Martin has yet to finish his epic then the same goes with Tacitus because this is how it ends:

Then, as his lingering death was very painful, he turned to Demetrius...

Okay, unlike Martin, Tacitus had originally completed his work (though this is disputed because some suggested that he died before he could finish it), but unfortunately we have lost a large chunk of the text. In fact the text that was handed down to us was in two chunks, with a large portion dealing with the emperor Calligula missing (as well as the last section which deals with Nero's removal from the throne and the beginning of the Jewish War). Okay, granted, you don't have a civil war involving multiple claimants to the throne, but you get that in the sequel, The Histories.

This is one of those books that I could probably read again, and again, and write heaps on, though I will try to restrain myself in this review and go into more detail in my blog. Anyway, I will touch on a couple of things here, namely what I call the bush wars (that is the wars on the fringe on the empire) and the political manoeuvrings in the capitol city.

The Emperors
The Annals, or at least what we have, deal with the history of Rome across three emperors. Tacitus begins at the end of Augustus' reign, namely because he felt that there was already quite a lot written about him that he didn't need to go over the same ground. Actually, even when he was writing, there was still a huge amount of respect towards Augustus and one of the main purposes of his book was to show how cretinous some of these later emperors were (though as I have mentioned we are missing the reign of Calligula).

If there is one thing that we can say about the emperors and that is where power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. Okay, Claudius wasn't necessarily corrupt in the same way that Tiberius and Nero where, but that was because he was actually a very simply person. I don't want to say idiot because Claudius actually had some physical disability – Nero was the idiot, particularly since he considered himself a great musician and anybody who said otherwise would have their life-span cut considerably short. In fact there is one part where Tacitus mentions that Nero was competing in a competition and the judges wanted to award him first prize before the competition even began (probably so they didn't have to put up with his singing) but Nero insisted that he be put on a level playing field with everybody else. Mind you, Nero's idea of a level playing field was 'you give me first prize or you die, but you have to listen to me first'. Okay, when he did finish he was rewarded with a standing ovation, but once again when you have a psychotic emperor on the throne that is basically the only thing that you can do after he finishes playing his lute.

I don't want to say too much about Claudius here because I will speak further on him below, except to mention that he was a rather simple person and easily swayed. In fact he wasn't the type of person to make up his own mind but rather to resort to those whom he trusted, which meant that it was always a game to get his ear and his respect. Mind you Claudius didn't claw his way onto the throne but rather was put there by those with vested interests in seeing him there.

As for Tiberius, the other emperor whom we have a substantial section preserved, what we see is a slow descent into madness. Remember that Tiberius was Augustus' anointed one, and while Augustus seemed to be pretty steady throughout his reign (despite the fact that he had his sister and mother arrested for sexual immorality – but then again Augustus was intent on promoting family values among the ruling class), Tiberius didn't remain as such. I suspect that Augustus had a much stronger willpower than many of the other emperors, though we should also remember that all of the writers that we do have seem to heap praise upon him.

Tiberius didn't remain that way though, though I have to admit much of what I am writing here is also coming out of Suetonius, or at least what I can remember. What I do know is that in the later years of his reign he ended up retreating from Rome to spend the rest of his life on an island indulging in sensual pleasures.

Political Games
I remember my Classical Studies lecturer telling us one that in Imperial Rome there was suddenly only so far you could climb the ladder before you hit the ceiling. Okay, he was talking about a later period (namely the period in which Tacitus was writing – in fact I remember another one of them mentioning how they should study Tacitus and I blew him off in favour of Plutarch – how wrong I was, but then again I was still young and relatively unread) but from what I have gathered from reading Tacitus the idea of climbing onto the Emperor's throne was not necessarily the top of the ladder. Well, it probably depended on the emperor, but it is clear that during this period even though the emperor may have had the final say, the emperor was not necessarily the ultimate power.

The reason I suggest this is because it is not so much gaining the throne, but rather gaining the ear of the emperor. The political manoeuvrings were more in a way of gaining the emperor's favour, and turning the emperor against your enemies. Further it was not just men involved in this manoeuvring but the women as well. In fact one of the most powerful people in this period was Agrippina (though she ended up getting murdered by Nero, namely because she had become so powerful that she was a threat – she had already dispatched one emperor to put Nero on the throne).

I mentioned how Tiberius retired to an island to engage in sensual pleasures, and this was namely so that he was out of the way so that the senate could orchestrate their plans. That did not necessarily mean that Tiberius was not in charge, he was just ruling through proxies since he had other interests to pursue. However, as they say, when the cats away then the mice would play, and the mice certainly did play a very bloodthirsty game.

As for Claudius, well, as I suggested, he was a simpleton. Sure, he was the emperor but in name only. The game during his reign was to gain his ear and his trust so that one could rule through him. In fact Claudius never made a decision but rather was swayed by the people he trusted, which is why his wives were so powerful. In fact Agrippina got to where she was by convincing Claudius to dispatch his current wife and to marry her (and after getting him to name her child Nero heir, proceeded to dispatch him – with a feather no less).

The Bush Wars
I want to finish off this review by talking about what I call the bush wars. The political manoeuvrings in Rome are punctuated by the wars on the fringes of the empire. When I say fringes I am really only talking about the North and the East (since the Atlantic Ocean was to the west and the Sahara desert to the south). Rome never got over the defeat of the legions in the Teutoberg Forest – meaning that they never conquered Germany. Sure, they managed to hold the frontier, but the Germans would regularly raid the outer provinces while Rome would regularly send troops into Germany to suppress the tribes.

To the East lay the empire of Parthia, another empire that they could never effectively conquer. Sure, during the 2nd century Trajan did manage to conquer Parthia, but he never managed to hold the region. In a way Rome had grown so big that it simply was not able to grow any further. This happens with many empires because the further away from the centre the more difficult it is to control. It is not just native populations revolting against the rule, but also corrupt governors and also difficulties with reinforcing the troops. In fact it can be quite dangerous to send too many troops to the front because by doing so creates opportunities for revolts to arise in other parts of the empire.

The one thing I love about reading about the wars in the East is the kingdom of Armenia. Since my family originally went to England from there in the 19th Century I have always had a soft spot for the country and it somehow thrills me to read about how this little (or I probably should say not so little because it was quite large during that period) has been around since the times of Alexander the Great. Back in those days Armenia played a very important role as a buffer state between Rome and Parthia.

Oh, I almost forgot, we also hear about Boadecea here – the Briton queen who raised an army and fought against the Roman occupation (and was ultimately defeat, namely because while fighting the Romans they weren't able to plant their crops and as such began to starve). Despite the fact that England has inherited a lot of its Roman heritage, there is still a statue of Boadecea standing prominently outside the houses of Parliament.

[J.G. Keely · Rating 4 out of 5]

The great benefit of a republic is the slowness with which it moves. In America or Rome, the long, careful consideration of matters by fractious, embittered rivals tend to assure that the only measures which pass are those which are beneficial, or those which are useless. In a dictatorship, much more may be achieved. In little time, a great man may do a great many things, and a lesser man make many errors.

As Tacitus, Machiavelli, Jefferson, or any proponent of the republic will tell you, great men are scarce, but you will never want for the lesser kind. If you marvel at my inclusion of Machiavelli among men of the republic, you may be surprised to hear that the vast majority of his works were against tyranny, and his well-known work about tyrants did not paint them in a very flattering light.

Tacitus' portraits of these Roman tyrants is much less than flattering, echoing Sallust's partisan accounts. After all, Plutarch's example was to paint history in terms of moral lessons, that the past is full of errors we can learn to avoid and of virtues to which we might aspire. But the time of the Annals was one mainly of errors, with virtues serving only to highlight the tragic fates of those who tried to uphold them.

Tacitus also took his Latinate style from Sallust, narrowing it into concise aphorisms which his English translators have come to lament. Things cannot be said as simply, as succinctly, or as precisely in a language so reliant copulas, pronouns, and word order. We may be missing the force of his terse invectives, but for examples, Tacitus never lacks. His is a case study of the craven, sycophantic rule of a series of inadequate monarchs.

For five hundred years, the Roman Republic had ruled, by far the most successful example of such a state. The had survived their enemies, civil wars, and dictators, finally to be undone by the frantic success of their unchecked expansion, which gave their generals the wherewithal to declare themselves king.

The long reign of Augustus showed what a monarch can achieve. His many heirs showed the more common faces of the monarch: debauched, indecisive, paranoid, cruel, incompetent. Despite his claims of objectivism, Tacitus often seems to paint these men more negatively than their actions merit. Certainly, Tiberius is unsure and weak-willed, but Tacitus seeks to ascribe to him a more nefarious character.

It may have been something nebulous which Tacitus could not support with a mere recitation of the facts, or it may be that he sees behind every foul act of a tyrant a willfullness, disguised as it might be by a milder character. Again, he is reminiscent of Sallust, who saw conspiracies everywhere, though it is not an enviable task for a historian to pick the true conspiracies from the fanciful.

I do not think Tacitus needed to embellish the facts; to me, the thoroughly incompetent, frightened ruler is just as threatening as the devious, malicious one. As tyrants, both are equally dangerous to the state.

It is unfortunate that not all of the Annals have survived, though large parts are intact. For those interested, it might be noted that Robert Graves' two novels, 'I, Claudius' and 'Claudius the God' were written to precisely cover the break in the Annals from Caligula to Claudius, ending where Tacitus picks up, again.

As Tacitus himself laments, this period is not the most exciting from the point of view of the historian. There are few great battles or civil wars, few admirable characters, and many vicissitudes, atrocities, tragedies, adulteries, murders, suicides, conspiracies, assassinations, and other mockeries of Rome's former nobility. Then again, some people might find that kind of thing intriguing.

The work is certainly full of unusual stories of a type which are less commonly encountered than the heroism of battle or the benevolence of a good ruler. To anyone looking toward the bredth and scope of roman history, not merely its glories, the Annals are uncommon, if not unique.

[Szplug · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is nothing quite like the terse and clean prose of Tacitus—the leanness of which is apparently found in the Latin source as well as the English rendering—and the way it provides the reader with such a comfortable passage through his Annals. The coverage of the reign of Tiberius is liberal and thoroughly vituperative; the reluctant Caesar—he of the moving anecdote of pursuing the ex-wife he truly loved across a Roman marketplace whilst sobbing bitterly at the cruel fate which forced him to share the matrimonial bed with Augustus' lascivious daughter, Julia—is presented in a severely unfavorable light. From the opening moments of his reign shown to be a dissembling fool and butt of some gentle-but-searing mockery from the Senators, the Tiberius of Tacitus' tale is an inwardly brooding and rancorous monarch—alternately under the thumb of his overweening mother and his ambitious and cunning Praetorian Prefect, Sejanus—whose behavior was somewhat restrained by the moderating maternal influence; when she passed on, all the black passions and lusts of his twisted soul were given their free reign. Although later histories have presented the Imperial administration of Tiberius as one of general competence and peace (the only real danger lay in being either a member of the Imperial family or that of the capital city's aristocracy), none possess the august flavor of the Annals, and his portrait of Tiberius is always the one uppermost in my mind when I think on Augustus' successor.

Unfortunately, his coverage of the reign of the disturbed Caligula is missing in its entirety, and we are left with fragments of the rule of the aged Claudius and the megalomaniac Nero, both of which prove, in many ways, more the story of the women and mistresses in their lives, both in how these monarch's favors were manipulated and bribed, and in how their murderous impulses were aroused when these same women, inevitably, pushed them too far. If these histories lack the gravitas found in that of the much more sober and capable Tiberius—who, in some ways, served as an early exemplar of the despotic tyranny that Tacitus so deplored in the reign of Diocletian—they still fascinate with glimpses of the pleasures and perils attending the position of being master of the Roman World.

For my money, the concluding passage of Book VI, which is a summing up of the long life and reign of Tiberius, is a marvelous example of Tacitus' unique style of presentation and judgement:

And so died Tiberius, in the seventy eighth year of his age. Nero was his father, and he was on both sides descended from the Claudian house, though his mother passed by adoption, first into the Livian, then into the Julian family. From earliest infancy, perilous vicissitudes were his lot. Himself an exile, he was the companion of a proscribed father, and on being admitted as a stepson into the house of Augustus, he had to struggle with many rivals, so long as Marcellus and Agrippa and, subsequently, Caius and Lucius Caesar were in their glory. Again his brother Drusus enjoyed in a greater degree the affection of the citizens. But he was more than ever on dangerous ground after his marriage with Julia, whether he tolerated or escaped from his wife's profligacy. On his return from Rhodes he ruled the emperor's now heirless house for twelve years, and the Roman world, with absolute sway, for about twenty-three. His character too had its distinct periods. It was a bright time in his life and reputation, while under Augustus he was a private citizen or held high offices; a time of reserve and crafty assumption of virtue, as long as Germanicus and Drusus were alive. Again, while his mother lived, he was a compound of good and evil; he was infamous for his cruelty, though he veiled his debaucheries, while he loved or feared Sejanus. Finally, he plunged into every wickedness and disgrace, when fear and shame being cast off, he simply indulged his own inclinations.

[Gary Inbinder · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Annals is Tacitus’s final history. It covers the Julio-Claudian emperors from the death of Augustus (14 A.D.) almost to the end of Nero’s reign (68 A.D.). Sections of the Annals were lost, e.g. Caligula, Nero’s death and events leading to Galba’s accession, and what historians believe was a planned section covering the forty-one-year reign of arguably the greatest of all Roman emperors, Augustus.
Tacitus (55? A.D. to 117 A.D.) was an orator and politician, as well as historian, and it’s believed that his high position in the administration (quaestor, praetor, senator and consul) under the Flavian emperors (Vespasian, Titus and Domitian) and two of the “Good Emperors” (Nerva and Trajan) provided him access to the senate’s records, making his histories of the period among the most reliable. Moreover, under Nerva and Trajan, Tacitus was relatively free to criticize the excesses and corruption of the Julio-Claudian period.
In addition to the politics of the period, the Annals covers military conflicts, including the seeming “Forever War” with the Parthians (Rome and the Parthians/Persians fought for centuries; an almost perpetual conflict interrupted by short periods of relative peace.)
Regarding the Julio-Claudians covered in the Annals, they go from bad (Tiberius) to worse (Nero). Among this rogue’s gallery, Claudius comes off the best, that is to say he was the least offensive turd in the dung heap.

[Hadrian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reread over quarantine.

Tacitus is very much a historian who notes the details. His narrative either centers on the life of the imperial court, or of military campaigns. And as incomplete and fragmentary as this history is (all of Caligula is missing), he lets his feelings be clear about the injustices and deadly evils of those in power - he sees the imperial seat as a contest between various court factions and their own struggle, and far removed from many of the people.

Tacitus isn't an anti-monarchist, he doesn't know much else. But he sees the aristocracy groveling to the emperor, and surrendering all their liberty to avoid the problems and upheaval of the past.

[Markus · Rating 3 out of 5]

It all sounds strangely like something Steven Erikson would write.

Nero substituted as culprits, and punished with the utmost refinements of cruelty, a class of men, loathed for their vices, whom the crowd styled Christians. Christus, the founder of the name, had undergone the death penalty in the reign of Tiberius, by sentence of the procurator Pontius Pilatus, and the pernicious superstition was checked for a moment, only to break out once more, not merely in Judaea, the home of the disease, but in the capital itself, where all things horrible or shameful in the world collect and find a vogue. First, then, the confessed members of the sect were arrested; next, on their disclosures, vast numbers were convicted, not so much on the count of arson as for hatred of the human race. And derision accompanied their end: they were covered with wild beasts’ skins and torn to death by dogs; or they were fastened on crosses, and, when daylight failed were burned to serve as lamps by night. Nero had offered his Gardens for the spectacle, and gave an exhibition in his Circus, mixing with the crowd in the habit of a charioteer, or mounted on his car. Hence, in spite of a guilt which had earned the most exemplary punishment, there arose a sentiment of pity, due to the impression that they were being sacrificed not for the welfare of the state but to the ferocity of a single man.

[Lisa (Harmonybites) · Rating 5 out of 5]

A friend of mine who teaches Latin for a living says it was this book (and Suetonius' The Twelves Caesars) that led to her fascination with things Roman and a change in her concentration. I wasn't hugely enamored at first. As our initial conversation went:

Me: Well, so far this isn't five star love it, but not first star hate.

Her: Keep going. It's good for you.

Me: Like broccoli?

Well, in the end it was more like a feast. This does have its dry patches--I considered dropping it a star because of that but decided it just had too much that was awesome. This is a year by year narrative of Imperial Roman history from the reign of Tiberius to that of Nero, from 14 to 66 AD. Tacitus at times gives accounts of trials of people who aren't exactly famous. It's as if 2,000 years later one is reading bulletins of trials of John Edwards and Rod Blagojevich. Military battles and mutinies are related in sometimes (for me) eye-glazing detail. But though the events described here happened largely before Tacitus was born, being high up in the state himself, he had access to first hand Senate records--and of course he must have known people who could give him first hand accounts. Ancient Rome came vividly to life here. Reading, for instance, of all the suicides committed to anticipate arrest and execution or the real life instance of the origin of the word "decimate." Or even this little bit where an accused man "offered his slaves to the torture." (Testimony of slaves extracted without torture wasn't valid.) But the narrative really came alive when it dealt with the doings of the emperors, their entourage and family: incest, murder, betrayal. The doings of the emperors seemed an illustration of Acton's aphorism that "power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely." Honestly, often what came through was Roman barbarism rather than Roman civilization--maybe all the more when Tacitus was recounting events he seemingly took for granted or approved of--for instance freedmen being treated like second class citizens. I read--and did love--Thucydides' The History of the Peloponnesian War, which has good claim to be the first real history--dealing with forces and people without attributing it to Gods. At first I thought Tacitus didn't compare well. But my goodness, I don't remember the Greeks being this colorful or Thucydides this gossipy. Note this passage about the Empress Messalina, Claudius' wife:

Messalina meanwhile, more wildly profligate than ever, was celebrating in mid-autumn a representation of the vintage in her new home. The presses were being trodden; the vats were overflowing; women girt with skins were dancing, as Bacchanals dance in their worship or their frenzy. Messalina with flowing hair shook the thyrsus, and Silius at her side, crowned with ivy and wearing the buskin, moved his head to some lascivious chorus.

Something else was markably absent from Thucydides by the way very present in that quote--women. I can't recall and from googling online can't find that Thucydides so much as mentions an individual woman in his acount of the Peloponnesian War. About the most famous passage even regarding women in Thucydides' history is in Pericles' Funeral Oration where he purportedly said the best women pass anonymously through history. Women on the other hand, are very present in the Annals. I'm not saying Tacitus was some proto-feminist. There are plenty of misogynist remarks--but women are a vital part of this history: Livia, Agrippina, Messalina, Pompeia--and not just those married to or the mother of Emperors--but figures such as Boudicca, the Warrior Queen of Britain, make quite the impression. I felt reading this one could write many a novel just based on single paragraphs in the history. I've read (some) of Gibbon's famous Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, I've read historical fiction about Rome by Robert Graves and Colleen McCullough among others, and I've dipped into contemporary popular histories of Rome. None really substitute for sustained reading of the real thing--from inside the head of a real Roman. So yes, whatever its faults, this was amazing.

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Augustus might have established the Principate, but it was up to his successors to continue it and prevent Rome from once against descending into civil war. Tacitus in The Annals of Imperial Rome, the reigns of the Caesars from Tiberius to the death of Nero which would lead to the events in the writer’s The Histories.

The work begins with Tacitus reviewing the reign of Augustus and how Tiberius became his successor, over his more popular nephew Germanicus whose side of the family would eventual rule. Tiberius shrewdly attempts to be modest in claiming the Imperial title, but this hides his dark nature that he developed during his self-imposed exile before becoming Augustus’ heir. Under Tiberius is when the show trials and political persecutions of leading men that would begin that would become notorious under later Emperors. The middle and the very end of Tiberius’ reign, all of Gaius (Caligula)’s reign, and the first half of Claudius’ reign have been lost. Tacitus’ work picks up with how Claudius’ wife Messalina was brought down and his niece Agrippina shrewdly manipulating her way into marriage with her uncle so as to get her son, the future Nero, to become Emperor. Though the show trials and political persecutions continue, Claudius doesn’t instigate them and attempts to be lenient for those being wrongly convicted. Yet once Nero becomes an adult and Claudius’ son Britannicus still a child, Claudius’ days are numbered. Once his great-uncle and adoptive father is dead, Nero assumes the leadership and begins consolidating power including poisoning Britannicus at dinner one night. Though his mother Agrippina attempts to influence him, Nero humors her while attempting to get rid of her and finally succeeding. Though taught and tutored by the renowned Seneca, Nero has learned to rule in the guise of Tiberius yet with the ruthlessness of Gaius and soon anyone that offended him or could have been a threat to him or perceived to be by his hangers on. Though the end of Nero’s reign is missing, the trials and murders of senators were increasing in number to the point that later as mentioned in The Histories they decided to turn on Nero and proclaim Galba.

The unfortunate incompleteness of Tacitus’ work does not diminish the great historical account that it presents of early Imperial history as well as his critique of the Roman aristocracy during the reigns of Augustus’ Julio-Claudian successors. Though we know his opinions of Tiberius and Nero the best since their reigns survived the best, Tacitus critiques of those family members that did not rule were highly invaluable especially all those who in the writer’s opinion might have been more fitting successors to Augustus if not for political intrigue or bad luck. If there is a complaint with this book it is with a decision by translator Michael Grant decision to use modern military terminology in reference to Roman’s military was it, but his decision to use Roman numerals to help identify different historical actors who had the same name—a very common Roman practice—without a doubt help keep things straight. The biggest complaint that I had with Tacitus’ other works, which I had from Oxford World Classics, were non-existent with Penguin Classics and thus I encourage others towards that particular publisher.

The Annals of Imperial Rome is Tacitus’ finest work, showing the corruption of absolute power and how many choose to allow it overcome them instead of standing up to it. Although probably (at least) one-third of the work is missing, the portions we have covers how a politically stable Rome begins to slowly unravel through ever increasing fear of the most powerful man in the Empire. The end result of this is chronicles in Tacitus’ previous work.

[Scriptor Ignotus · Rating 4 out of 5]

Before there was George R. R. Martin, there was Tacitus. Though fragmentary and incomplete, the Annals have definitively captured the public imagination regarding the Julio-Claudian dynasty and the early years of the Roman Principate -- their sensationalist qualities and questionable historical accuracy notwithstanding. The surviving material covers the reigns of Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero. The absence of Caligula, perhaps the most notorious of all Roman emperors, is a notable disappointment; but even in the surviving books, there is no shortage of drama.

When reading the Annals, one stylistic trait of Tacitus's writing presents itself immediately, and this is his heavy usage of indirect quotations, wherein he sort of channels the thoughts of the characters he portrays without quoting them directly. He is certainly not as dry as Livy; he has a real flair for the dramatic and does not shy away from interjecting with some of his own thoughts. He presents his history as an unfolding moral drama, with wars abroad, intrigue at home, and traditional Roman values being everywhere discarded.

Tacitus is often painted as a cynic (in the present-day sense of the word, not in reference to the philosophical school). If he is, then he also lives up to the old adage about cynics: that they are merely disappointed idealists. In Book 3, he gives us a surprisingly Rousseauian account of human nature and the origins of law and government:

"The earliest humans, since there were as yet no evil appetites, lived without wickedness and therefore without penalty and punishments. Nor were rewards necessary, since the honourable was pursued because honourable. Where no desires surpassed the norm, fear produced no prohibitions. But after equality was shed, and in place of restraint and shame ambition and violence arrived, out sprang despotisms. In many nations these were a permanent fixture. But some nations immediately, others, after kings proved irksome, preferred laws. At first, given the primitive state of humankind, these were simple...For us? Romulus' government was arbitrary, then Numa used religion's obligations and divine law as the people's shackles..."

For Tacitus, politics as he knew it was a grotesque caricature of human nature, not a result of it. So when he details the scandals that rocked first-century Rome, he is not necessarily driven by hard-headed realism, but rather by an underlying conviction that the human race does not need to be the way it is. If man was by nature a creature of corruption and power seeking, Tacitus may not have seen a need to chronicle the display of these traits in his own society.

But the Annals are not merely a historical or political work. They are also a work of literature and high drama. He paints vivid portraits of moments and characters: when Germanicus visits the battlefield where Varus's legions met their end and has a nightmare in which the ill-fated general rises vampirically from the German swamp; or when Sejanus, the power-hungry captain of the Praetorian Guard, seduces the wife of Drusus, Tiberius's son, and conspires with her to poison him, eliminating Tiberius's only heir and ultimately making way not for his own rise, but for that of Caligula.

[Eadweard · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's like a soap opera (but with swords).

I do not like the way it has been translated, using modern / anachronistic terms for cities and titles and modern phrases like "nip it in the bud". Aside from that it's good reading, just don't take everything Tacitus says to be true.

[AB · Rating 5 out of 5]

A 5 star rating is not enough for this book. How I could possibly give credit to this book in a review is beyond me but I feel like I should get some thoughts out. In my opinion this is the greatest work of history from Antiquity (sorry Thucydides). The Annals covers not just one war or one political event but spans a 54 year period in immense detail. At first, it is easy to get bogged down in the Annalistic style of the work. Contrary to the stereotypes of Annalistic histories that I had previously developed. Tacitus is quite different. Its not simply a (x) happened at this time during y and z's consulship. Instead, he closely looks at events in order to prove his points. Yes, he just describes what happened during a certain year but he times his discussions in order to stress certain ideas. This leads to what I believe to be the most brilliant aspect of Tacitus: his lawyers flair of putting ideas into your head. Tacitus has a very clear message in his work: the issues of absolute power. Within this, he also deals with individual aspects of the emperors. From Tiberius' dissembling character to Claudius' weaknesses and finally Nero's bloodshed and vices, every moment, indeed every phrase, is carefully weighed to deliver the message that Tacitus wants. Tacitus also has a flair for preparing the reader for future events. Tiberius' dislike of Germanicus is slowly built until his death, making the reader question whether or not Tiberius had a hand in his death. The murder of Claudius is anticipated by the scheming of Agrippina and set in motion by the drunken ramblings of the emperor and an oracle. Finally, the exceptional characters of Corbulo and Suetonius and the focus on resistance and bravely facing death in the latter half of Nero's reign precipitates his assassination and the rise of Vespasian.
I could go on and on about what I appreciate about this work but what can I say that can fully reflect what I feel for Tacitus? I have studied and written papers on many parts of this book and each time I have come back to it I have always gained a greater appreciation for the genius of Tacitus. If you only ever read one book from a Roman historian make it this one.
The oxford edition of the Annals had amazing footnotes. To be honest it had some of the best I've ever seen in a oxford world classic

oh what I would give for the missing books of the Annals...

[Володимир Демченко · Rating 5 out of 5]

Тацит пише свої «Анали» з відстані у кілька десятків років, використовуючи багаті архіви і, подекуди, свідчення людей що памʼятають тих, хто памʼятає) це все надає описуваним подіям обʼємної драми і кольорів. В центрі уваги — не стільки імператори, скільки атмосфера імперії, що розкладається зсередини. Цезарі змінюються, а темрява згущується.
Політичний терор, убивства, інтриги… рекомендую

[S. Alberto ⁻⁷ (semi-hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

“History is written with bias; the victor’s narrative prevails.”

“Human nature is universally possessed by a desire to dominate or, when unable to do so, to resist domination.”

“It is the rare fortune of these days that a man may think what he likes and say what he thinks.”

Tacitus’ The Annals of Imperial Rome is a riveting chronicle of the early Roman Empire, filled with sharp observations about power, politics, and the human condition. His writing is both profound and incisive, often capturing the moral complexities of leadership and the corruption that accompanies unchecked authority.

One of the most striking aspects of this work is Tacitus’ unflinching honesty. Quotes like, “The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws,” and, “To rob, to kill, to plunder—they call it empire; and where they make a desert, they call it peace,” reveal his deep cynicism toward imperial Rome and its moral decay. Yet, he balances his critiques with moments of genuine insight into human nature and society.

While The Annals is undeniably a masterpiece, it’s not the easiest read. Tacitus assumes a level of familiarity with Roman history and political structures, and his dense, sometimes elliptical prose can be a challenge. However, his ability to dissect the interplay of ambition, morality, and fate makes the effort worthwhile.

It’s a brilliant, thought-provoking work, but it requires patience and a willingness to grapple with its historical and literary depth. For those interested in Roman history, political philosophy, or the darker sides of human ambition, The Annals is an essential read.

[Erik Graff · Rating 4 out of 5]

Never being able to intentionally memorize much of anything, my exposures to German, Spanish and French at elementary schools were increasingly unnerving. They started us in second grade with German. When the German teacher left to marry, it being a small, rural school, we switched to Spanish. Those weren't so bad as the teaching was directed towards conversationaly facility. Unfortunately, however, the family moved while I had just started fifth grade, taking me from the Spanish- to a French-oriented system in medias res. To make matters worse, the instruction in the new district was oriented towards reading. This meant having to remember not only vocabulary, but also grammatical rules. I was hopeless. When given a chance to pick a language in high school I switched to Latin, thinking that at least I'd learn the Latinate roots of the little Spanish and French vocabulary I'd retained.

That was in fact the case. As ever, my ability to remember cases, conjunctions and declensions was insufficient to see me through more than a couple of hours: I'd cram for a quiz, manage pass it, then rapidly forget what had been so briefly retained. Only my "derivative notebooks" (a generally successful exercise in getting us to note and remember roots) and my interest in and growing knowledge of ancient history saw me through the years of Latin with charitably passing grades.

Other than learning Latin roots, the years of study had introduced me to some Roman authors, at least by references and extracts from their works. One of them was Tacitus. Upon graduation, with a summer before college, I had the time to read some of them, Tacitus included.

After all these years I get Tacitus and Suetonius confused, having read one after the other, but do recall that the former was a bit more balanced than the latter, his histories being more "historical" in the modern sense and less given to portents, omens and other apparent nonsense. Consequently, in later years, while getting into the history of Britannia, I went on to read his Agricola as well.

[Justin Evans · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the year of the consulship of x and y, military events occurred, as did these notable moments of jurisprudence. There was the following scandal. The emperor plotted the deaths/punishment/exile of the following people. And so forth.

Tacitus himself apologizes for the monotony of some of the stories in 16.16, which is obviously a bit mischievous, since the continuous deaths, sexual escapades and military idiocies are, in their own way, pretty entertaining. He's great at telling small scale tales, particularly of Nero (his discussion of Tiberius is a little dull, unfortunately). But it's hard to see the overall arc here. That might be because I didn't read it in Latin and give it my undivided attention, it might be because we're missing big chunks of the text, it might be because the annalistic organization doesn't really allow for overarching arc. Or might be because there is no arc: it's just descent from one repulsive, disgusting emperor to the next.

Otherwise, I had to skim hefty portions of the text because I couldn't really be bothered to look up notes on every 'barbarian' tribesman, or every obscure Roman advocate. And I imagine that will go for anyone who's reading this but isn't a classics student or professor or obsessive. But the high (i.e., low) points make it very much worth while, and anyone who thinks Hollywood and Television and Modern Art are destroying the olde time morals should take note that there's more bloodletting, sexual misconduct and greed in Tacitus than in anything that would make it to your local cinema.

[J]

It's pretty accessible for the same reasons that Livy is, a tight focus, with events juxtaposed so that they often seem to move organically into each other. I guess I never realized how Rome was so defined by the actions of just two or three extended families over the course of its early imperial history. At times it's kind of like an episode of 'days of our lives', but with orgies, and treason accusations, and suicide. Tacitus can be a surprisingly funny guy, and the humor actually translates really well. Which is good, because frankly, its bleak as hell, and it leaves you with no doubt in your mind whatsoever that this is a society that is essentially cannibalizing itself. Just make sure you keep a family tree next to you at all times when your reading it, the familial ties can be pretty damn byzantine.

[Alex Pler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tácito me ha parecido el mejor de los historiadores romanos clásicos. Sabe encontrar un punto medio entre la concisión de Tito Livio y el sensacionalismo de Suetonio. Mezclando todo tipo de registros construye una crítica al poder absoluto, disfrazada de objetividad y sin renunciar al espectáculo.

[Isaac Clemente ríos · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hay que leer a Tácito con mucho cuidado, pero hay que leerlo.

Lo primero que es necesario entender es que los anales, de haberse escrito hoy no pasarían por ser un trabajo de historiografía. Los motivos son muchos, enumeraré solamente algunos:

1.- No se hace referencia a las fuentes
2.- No se hace un análisis de los motivos de los acontecimientos
3.- El tratamiento de la historia es sobre todo moral: qué está bien, qué está mal, qué se debe evitar, etc.

A partir de unos cimientos flojos, nos encontramos con el siguiente problema; Tácito es un miembro de la clase social dominante romana nacido en el siglo I, con todos sus prejuicios y limitaciones, a saber:

Por el lado de los prejuicios pondré un ejemplo, contra las mujeres, cuando habla de la conspiración Pisoniana: "Mílico había tomado también consejo de su esposa, consejo de mujer y, como tal, pernicioso". El entrecomillado se comenta solo.

¿Qué valor hemos de dar entonces a sus juicios de valor sobre mujeres como Agripina o Mesalina?: " Prevalecieron estos argumentos, ayudados por las seducciones de Agripina, que, llegándose a él frecuentemente con el pretexto de su parentesco, subyuga a su tío". ¿Podemos creerle cuando la tacha de "terrible en sus odios"? Yo creo que no, es fácil dar pábulo a los rumores que convienen a la cosmovisión propia. Podríamos estar frente a un caso de manual de sesgo de confirmación.

Siguiendo por el lado de los prejuicios, el autor nos habla de acontecimientos como una mujer que dio a luz a una serpiente y una vaca que parió un ternero con la cabeza en la pezuña. También aparecen los rayos, temblores y vuelos de aves como señales que presagian acontecimientos desafortunados. ¿Queda Tácito completamente desacreditado por esto? Entiendo que no, ya que es un hombre bajo el influjo de su tiempo, pero hay que ir descontando posibles errores e inexactitudes en su forma de contar lo que ocurrió.

Con todo, la limitación más importante es la tecnológica. Seguramente Tácito (como cónsul y procónsul que fue) tuvo acceso a los documentos oficialmente registrados, pero estos serían sobre todo legislativos, fiscales o religiosos. No es posible que se documentase si fulano había envenenado a mengano en el palacio a base de setas; no había radio, ni tv ni internet.

Por lo demás, hay intención literaria en los anales; es un texto que aún hoy se lee con agrado. Pero nunca olvidemos que la vocación de Tácito es no es solo informar, sino también entretener y moralizar. Los Anales destilan todo el sabor de la época y nos ayudan a acercarnos a ese increíble siglo primero, pero no hay que tomarlo nunca como un texto histórico con el rigor que tienen los trabajos de los historiadores del presente.

[postmodern putin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tacitus delivers a sweeping historical account that spans the tumultuous reigns from Tiberius through much of Nero's rule, offering readers an intimate look at the political machinations that would eventually lead to civil war. What sets "The Annals" apart from other historical works is its focus on the treacherous drama and personal emotions that drove these monumental events, showing how each emperor's character and decisions contributed to Rome's gradual descent into chaos.

The author demonstrates a true mastery of both geography and history, weaving together an assortment of major political events with detailed accounts of how the Senate functioned after the abolition of the republic. Tacitus excels at capturing the psychological underpinnings of power, revealing the personal feelings and motivations that shaped imperial policy and ultimately destabilized the empire.

However, the work is not without its frustrations. Tacitus has a tendency to alternate between scenes seemingly at whim, making it genuinely difficult to maintain a clear sequence of events in your mind as you read. Additionally, while his political insights are sharp, I found myself wishing he had described some of the major military campaigns with more detailed imagery and tactical analysis.

Perhaps most exhausting of all is the sheer volume of Roman names and places that populate every page. Without a scorecard, keeping track of the various senators, generals, and geographical locations becomes a serious mental workout that can detract from the narrative flow.

Nevertheless, "The Annals" remains an important historical document that offers unique insights into imperial Roman politics and psychology, but its structural challenges and density make it a demanding read that doesn't always feel rewarding.

[Noah · Rating 3 out of 5]

1. Eine wirklich gute Ausgabe, zwar in mikroskopisch kleiner Schrift aber mit einem monumentalen Fußnotenkatalog, Ahnentafeln und Anmerkungen versehen, die bereits für sich genommen sehr lesenswert sind.

2. Wie bewertet man sowas? Das Werk ist chronologisch und so vermischt sich wichtiges mit Unwichtigem, interessantes und langweiliges. Ich habe viel mehr gelernt, als ich dachte und demgegenüber fand ich - im Gegensatz zu anderen Werken derselben Zeit - die Gedankenwelt der handelnden Personen und der Zeit erstaunlich unbeleuchtet und habe mich passagenweise sehr gelangweilt, während die Machtpolitik zum Teil ungemein spannend war. Ferner erkennt man, wie das militärisch strategische der Hauptstadt Rom langsam entgleitet und ökonomisches Denken verloren geht.

3. Eine vernünftige Ausgabe von Cassius Dio scheint kaum verfügbar...

[Daniel Wright · Rating 3 out of 5]

Trying to construct the history of Imperial Rome from Tacitus is like trying to construct today's history using a few sparsely and randomly preserved copies of The Daily Mail. It almost defies belief that people do take him so seriously. He blatantly makes things up, he disclaims any interest in taking sides while transparently doing so, and he holds his nose over the misbehaviour of the emperors, condemning it while describing it in salacious and sensational detail. Moreover, the Annals only survive through two incomplete and disjoint manuscripts dating from well over a millennium after they were actually written. Who knows how much they may have been corrupted in between. Since most people do think of Tacitus as a historian, I feel obliged to give him a low rating, because read as history, that is how much he is worth: his narrative mostly fits in around archaeologically verifiable facts, but the details are dubious to the point of being without value.

And yet, what is it that makes him so compelling?

I will start with his Latin. His style is daunting to newcomers, and quite untranslatably brilliant. Here is a taster: he makes frequent use of long-winded indirect speech, often resorting to that very Latin phenomenon, oratio obliqua, or subordinated clauses within indirect speech. If you're not keeping up with the technical terms, here is an explanation:

Direct speech: He said, 'I am studying Latin.'

Indirect speech: He said that he was studying Latin.

Subordinate clause within direct speech: He said, 'I am studying Latin, which will enable me to show off on the internet.'

Subordinate clause within indirect speech: He said that he was studying Latin, which would enable him to show off on the internet.

Thus, XIV.1, page 312 from the translation I have:

Besides, he [Nero] loved Poppaea more every day. While Agrippina lived, Poppaea saw no hope of his divorcing Octavia and marrying her. So she nagged and mocked him constantly. He was under his guardian's thumb, she said - master neither of the empire nor of himself. 'Otherwise,' she said, 'why these postponements of our marriage? I suppose my looks and victorious ancestors are not good enough. Or do you distrust my capacity to bear children? Or the sincerity of my love? No! I think you are afraid that, if we were married, I might tell you frankly how the senate is downtrodden and the public enraged by your mother's arrogance and greed. If Agrippina can only tolerate daughters-in-law who hate her son, let me be Otho's wife again! I will go anywhere in the world where I need only hear of the emperor's humiliations rather than see them - and see you in danger, like myself!'

Which could be more literally rendered:

Besides, he loved Poppaea more very day, who, seeing no hope, while Agrippina lived, of his divorcing Octavia and marrying her, nagged and mocked him constantly that he was under his guardian's thumb, saying he was master neither of the empire nor of himself, otherwise why these postponements of their marriage, or were her looks and victorious ancestors not good enough, or did he distrust her capacity to bear children, or the sincerity of her love, that, no, she thought he was afraid that, if they were married, she might tell him frankly how the senate was downtrodden and the public enraged by his mother's arrogance and greed, that if Agrippina could only tolerate daughters-in-law who hated her son, let her be Otho's wife again, and she would go anywhere in the world where she need only hear of the emperor's humiliations rather than see them - and him in danger like herself.

Yes, that is all one sentence. Even editions of the Latin break it up with judicious punctuation marks - but punctuation marks had not been invented in Tacitus' day, or even spaces between words, so they miss the immediacy and winding, rolling flow of Tacitus' prose.

What is the point of all this? Only that the reason we read Tacitus is that he is a brilliant writer. After all, when you think of Tiberius, do you think of the practical and competent, if surly, monarch of history, or the depraved dictator of the Annals? Tacitus has stolen the real man from the pages and made him his own living and breathing character, just as, one day, Shakespeare would do with Henry V. Moreover his wit is palpable, and his sarcasm is delicious. His finest moment - the murder of Agrippina - is literary genius, tension gently stoked and relieved, careful irony and rhetorical flair.

My conclusion: as a historian, Tacitus is laughable. As a writer of historical fiction, he is a master of his genre.

[Matt · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tacitus covers the reign of Tiberius through most of Nero’s reign in The Annals of Imperial Rome. His writing is crisp and his narration rarely gets sidetracked away from the chronological recording. Unfortunately, significant sections have been lost to time and Caligula’s reign as well as the final years of Nero’s are absent.

The drama of the time was not so much in military conquests, but the political maneuverings of the Imperial court. Tacitus seems self-consciously aware of the mundane nature of his time.

Much what I have related and shall have to relate, may perhaps, I am aware, seem petty trifles to record. But no one must compare my annals with the writings of those who have described Rome in old days. They told of great wars, of the storming of cities, of the defeat and capture of kings, or whenever they turned by preference to home affairs, they related, with a free scope for digression, the strifes of consuls with tribunes, land and corn-laws, and the struggles between the commons and the aristocracy. My labours are circumscribed and inglorious; peace wholly unbroken or but slightly disturbed, dismal misery in the capital, an emperor careless about the enlargement of the empire, such is my theme. Still it will not be useless to study those at first sight trifling events out of which the movements of vast changes often take their rise. pg. 94, Book IV

One has to admire his fidelity to his time. Seemingly without exaggeration nor bolstering, he records. Even without the defeat and capture of kings and cities, Tacitus’ Annals compellingly conveys the disintegration of Tiberius, the tragedy of Germanicus and the madness of Nero.

My biggest complaint rests with this particular edition rather than Tacitus. The Digireads edition uses the Church and Brodribb translation, but the lack of accompanying footnotes made for a summary reading. Many of the players in Rome come and go in a whirlwind of intrigue. Unless you have a thorough background in ancient Roman politics, finding an edition with supplementary references will probably make for a much more enjoyable, and informative, experience.

[Tess · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are so many things to say about dear Tacitus, but I'll be brief. So maybe Roman histories are a little boring at times and a little heavy on the "and then this group sent an envoy, and then that group sent an envoy" type of minutiae, but this is about 500% less boring than Homer. That's why they call him "Tacitus," see. He's tacit in his telling of these epic stories.

It is truly chilling to learn about the years leading up to the fall of Rome because it slowly starts to dawn on you that the SAME STUFF is going on in our society right now. These annals are like an episode of Jerry Springer, but with aristocrats instead of rednecks. Okay, so maybe more like TMZ.com or something. Corruption, backstabbing, depraved acts that defy the human imagination...yep, sounds like 2010. And a few noble acts that make the story even more painful to comprehend because of the potential that Rome had.

Something that I thought was really interesting was that back in those days, it was actually a worse punishment to be banished than killed, because Rome was just THAT important. To Romans, their city was just THE hub of life, and they would rather die than be banished. I'm all "Aw, banished to a beautiful island for the rest of my life? NO PROBLEM."

Anyway, I think this quote from Byron sums up what Tacitus has to teach us:

"First Freedom, and then Glory -- when that fails,
Weatlh, vice corruption, -- barbarism at last"
-- Byron

[Bernard Norcott-mahany · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tacitus was considered, by ancients and moderns alike, the greatest Roman historian (along with Titus Livius [AKA Livy]). Tacitus himself looked to Livy, whose work, at times, he considered a bit fanciful, as his predecessor, picking up his Annals largely where Livy’s Ab Urbe Condita left off, in the final years of Augustus’ life. The last great historian of Rome, Ammianus Marcellinus (c.325-c. 395 CE), took up his Res Gestae where Tacitus’ Histories left off, with the accession of Nerva in 96 CE, considering Tacitus’ work definitive regarding the 1st c. CE.
Here is the little we know about Cornelius Tacitus. He was a member of the Roman Senate and held various political offices, in the 80s and 90s CE, mainly under Domitian, an unstable emperor. He was considered a fine orator, and one of his surviving works is a discussion of the state of Latin oratory in the 1st c. CE, the Dialogus de Oratoribus (Dialogue on Orators). In addition to that work, he also composed two historical monographs, one a eulogy of his father-in-law, Agricola, and the other an ethnographic study of the German tribes, the Germania. He composed two major historical works. His Histories covered the years from 69 CE through 96, and focuses largely on the Flavian emperors, Vespasian, Titus and Domitian, and his Annals covered the years from 14 CE through 68 CE, and largely focused on the emperors Tiberius, Gaius [AKA Caligula], Claudius, and Nero. Both of his major works survive in only a few manuscripts and in fragmentary condition. From the Histories, we have only the first four books and the opening of Book V, covering the years 69-70 CE, describing in detail the “Year of the Four Emperors” (69) in which Galba, Otho, Vitellius and Vespasian followed in quick succession. From the Annals, we have Books I-IV, only a few chapters from Book V, most of Book VI, about half of Book XI, Books XII-XIV, and the opening of Book XVI, which gives almost all of Tiberius’ reign, about half of Claudius’ reign and about 2/3 of Nero’s reign.
Tacitus famously says in his opening chapters of the Annals that he will present this history sine ira et studio (“without anger or favoritism”). This is his claim, but it is inaccurate. It’s somewhat akin to what Fox News calls “Fair and Balanced” coverage that is anything but. It is possible that, compared to other contemporary historians, he may be closer to “fair and balanced” than others. As we don’t have those other historians, we’ll never know for sure. In addition, what a Roman might consider “fair and balanced” was likely different from what we might view as such. For the Roman historian, Roman glory and destiny required a moralistic presentation – in other words, “if it didn’t happen like this, it should have.” For Livy, who tells the story of Rome from its beginnings, this means including all sorts of legends about the Roman kings, for which he has no corroborating documentation. Livy admits that he has no guarantee that events happened as presented, but adds that Roman glory demands a glorious beginning. Livy’s work culminates in Augustus, so his work has a “happy” ending. For Tacitus, the emperors who followed Augustus were very much of a letdown. His tale is one of decline.
Roman history relied a lot on hearsay. There were some histories and documentation Roman historians could consult, but they did not have anything approaching the documentation available now. Tacitus refers several times to what “other” historians say about an event, before giving his take on the event, but we have no way of verifying those sources. Even when he names the sources, we do not have them, and so can make no judgment regarding Tacitus’ judgment of them. It is believed that Tacitus, as a Roman senator, and one in the good graces of the Emperor Trajan (emperor from 98-117 CE), had access to senate and imperial records. Of course, we don’t have those records, and so cannot tell how closely Tacitus hews to them. Besides, given the unsavory actions and plots of the Julio-Claudian emperors, one might wonder how much of their work was done in secret, with no record kept. In his Histories, Tacitus was largely recounting events through which he lived, and in which he participated as a senator and government official. The same cannot be said for the Annals.
Why read the Annals? If one is looking for a reliable work on Roman history, one might do better to read Michael Grant’s History of Rome, or A History of the Roman People by Fritz Heichelheim and Cedric Yeo. There one would get “facts” as well as we know them, and a fair and balanced recitation of the events of Roman history. What those books lack, though, is the sense of drama that Tacitus provides. Tacitus appears to have been a man of strong moral fiber, who took his role in Rome’s administration and history, seriously, and who bemoaned the fact that Rome under an emperor, though monarchy may have been necessary for stability, often resulted in the misuse of power, and the emasculation of the Roman Senate. And in those moments when political machination ends in murder (often cruel and underhanded) or suicide (often presented as heroic resistance), Tacitus’ power as a storyteller is most impressive.
One word about translations of Tacitus. The translations currently available in the Kansas City Public Library, those of Church and Broadribb, and of Moore and Jackson, are good translations. They present Tacitus in a readable English style. Tacitus’ Latin style is a large part of his appeal. Tacitus’ Latin is clipped and apothegmatic. Latin is given to brevity, and Tacitus takes that brevity even further. Reading Tacitus in Latin is very difficult, but his brevity packs a lot into a little. Imagine reading US history written in the style of Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler, and you get a sense of the power of Tacitus’ clipped style. Unfortunately, no English translation captures that hard-hitting brevity. The closest would be the recent translation by Cynthia Damon, who tries to capture that element, but who often admits failure. Still, even in translation, some of Tacitus’ power comes across, and his ability as a storyteller of political intrigue flickers through.

[Diem · Rating 3 out of 5]

Covering the better part of the Julio-Claudian dynasty this starts off as a very interesting history but devolves into a catalog of executions and suicides and sexual improprieties and somehow makes them very boring. By 2/3 of the way through I could barely muster up a horrified, "But, that's your niece!" or "There must have to be easier ways to kill yourself!"

A much less entertaining read than Livy. Still worth the price of admission but I wasn't sorry to be finished.

[Josh · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very thorough and detailed account of the reigns of Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius and Nero. Meticulously researched and drawing on information from the imperial archives, Tacitus creates and vivid and rich narrative of the period. That being said, I would not recommend for those who don't already have a relatively firm footing in the subject already, as I can see the density of the work making it difficult for beginners to grasp fully.