ROMA – Day Four

Sunday confirmed that in some ways the gods conspire against me. The previous night I swung by the basilica of San Clemente to see if I could get into the archaeological site. My ancient history professor, Jay Bregman, told me that below the church was a Mithraeum, a shrine to the sun god Mithras, whose cult gained wide popularity in the second and third centuries CE. It was closed, so I decided to go there first thing the next morning. I forgot it was Sunday. The site didn’t open till noon. So after a nice rest in the Parco Traiano, I made my way to the edge of the old city and to the church of St. John Lateran, the seat of the bishopric of Rome (while the Vatican is the seat of the whole world).
Again, it was Sunday morning. I walked in on the middle of a church service, conducted in Latin! The music was also very nice, with a male choir. Like the Vatican, the interior was richly decorated.
From there it was getting toward noon and I finally got into San Clemente, only to discover that photography is forbidden in the whole place. It makes sense because the excavation also includes a fourth-century church with delicate paintings, but the Mithraeum had no paint. I had to hide my camera to sneak a couple shots of the cult shrine. This was especially difficult because there was an electric fence in front of the gated entrance which detected any cameras trying to peer between the bars. When the threshold was crossed, a large buzzing noise went off. Why???
After that, I grabbed more pizza and beer by the Colosseum, then crossed the Tiber to Trastevere, the charming district across the river. From there was a somewhat arduous climb up the Janiculum Hill. The monument to Giuseppe Garibaldi provided a spectacular view of the whole city.
Climbing back down the hill put me in Vatican territory yet again, so I made another swing by the Castel St. Angelo and the angel bridge, where I got a better shot straight out of Angels & Demons.
From that point I had only one more place on the map I hadn’t seen, the Campo di Fiore, which turned out to be a large piazza where it was market day. I took this opportunity to sample numerous Italian cheeses. I had done it. I had seen all of Rome in four days, thanks to non-stop walking and the determination to make the most of the best vacation ever. Before I tell of the nightmare of Day 5, here’s my best shot of the Vittoriano, a monster piece of architecture dedicated to Victor Emanuele II, the first king of a united Italy.
The next day was long and insane. I was misinformed about when my train left and how much it cost, which was later and more expensive. I got to the airport 45 minutes before my flight, and only got my boarding pass because I wasn’t checking any luggage. I got to the gate just as it started boarding. The flight was pleasant, and when I got to Boston, I ran to the curb just in time to catch a bus up to Maine. I was very lucky that day. So here I am back in the states, and so concludes my story. Hopefully I’ll travel again soon, to Istanbul or Athens, or even back to Rome. I can’t wait to go back.

ROMA – Day Three

The next morning was rather rough. You would expect, me having walked everywhere, that my feet and legs would be sore and blistered. Well this was never the case. However, I did do a number on both my Achilles tendons. However, I felt more like Hector, after Achilles pierced leather thongs through his ankles and dragged him around Troy behind his chariot. Well it wasn’t that bad, but it took a while to loosen them up so that walking was no longer a chore. I wasn’t slowed down much in the long run. On the way out I went by the Colosseum once again and noticed one of the many stray cats that frequent the city sites.
Anyway, Day 3 was a gorgeous day, so I decided to hop on a train to Ostia, the ancient seaport of Rome at the mouth of the Tiber. However, 2000 years of sediment buildup covered the abandoned city, preserving much of it, and locating it a mile inland from the modern seacoast. As the first colony of Rome, the city is planned out like a military camp, with a main road called the Decumanus Maximus.

Ostia Antica is very extensive, but mostly the first floors of buildings remain. However, there were all the essentials of a Roman city: apartment blocks, temples of the gods, public baths, and military barracks. In addition, the city had a stone theater where the comedies of Plautus and Terrence must have been staged.

As Rome’s seaport, Ostia was full of grain merchants’ and sailors’ guilds. This fact is reflected in the myriad mosaics that pave the city’s floors. They even had a lighthouse modeled after the Pharos of Alexandria.

After several hours exploring Ostia, I hopped on the train back to Rome and trekked to the Forum Boarium where I gazed on the temples of Hercules and Portunus while enjoying a typical lunch of pizza and Italian beer. Not bad.

Thence I made my way into the heart of modern Rome, and found myself on the Via del Corso, which is Rome’s equivalent of the Champs Elysee, a crowded vista all the way from the Vittoriano to the Piazza del Popolo. Along the way, I ducked off the trail to check out more antiquities, such as the Column of Marcus Aurelius in the aptly named Piazza Colonna. I was rather indignant at learning from the Latin inscription below the column that a pope had replaced the statue of Aeneas atop the column with one of St. Paul. The rechristening of pagan monuments and adorning them with crosses and saints is a common theme throughout Rome: the cost of preserving the ancient past.
I managed by sunset to get to the Spanish Steps while there was still sunlight, and from the top watched the sun go down over the beautiful city.
Getting dark I made my last notable stop at the Trevi Fountain, which I now believe is the greatest example of Baroque fountain sculpture in the world, especially when it’s lit up at night.
It was about this time I did my souvenir shopping. Having already been in Prague, I wasn’t surprised to see that the thousands of gift shops throughout the city were all the same, selling the same tacky merchandise. My father joked that he wanted a Colosseum snowglobe. Every gift shop had them, so I bought one to follow through on the jest. For my nephew I bought a t-shirt featuring Asterix & Obelix, and for my girlfriend I finally found a shop that was selling something different, Murano glass jewelry. I bought her a royal blue heart pendant necklace. She loves it.

ROMA – Day Two

Youth hostels weren’t meant for us scholarly types. Dance music is blasted from 10 to midnight. People are loud and obnoxious, and my room is full of girls getting ready for a night on the town. Still managed to sleep 12 hours the first night, having not slept in two days.

Anyways, Day Two had much better weather than I expected, so I declared it my day to do the Vatican. To get there I walked, as I did to any place in the city. Taking the Metro would have made me miss a ton of cool stuff (again, there’s Latin written EVERYWHERE). So my route over to St. Peter’s took me by the Pantheon, a temple to all the gods built by Agrippa, Augustus’ right-hand man, then rebuilt by Hadrian (who rebuilt pretty much everything), and then converted into a Christian basilica, which explains why it’s in such good shape, and decked out in all splendor in accordance with apostolic poverty…

So began my day in Dan Brown country. It was hard to keep Angels & Demons out of my head when I stared up into the oculus.
A couple blocks hence was the beautiful Piazza Navona. Little known fact is that the piazza conforms to the shape of what used to be there, the Hippodrome of Domitian. The highlight of this spot are the two beautifully sculpted fountains on either end.
After resting there I approached the Tiber River. It was a spiritual experience to walk down the steps from one of the bridges and to wash my hands in the sacred river. I crossed it over a bridge full of angel statues and ended up at the Castel St. Angelo, Hadrian’s tomb, but was converted into a medieval fortress (I’ll have pictures of it in a later post since I returned to it on Day Four). From there was a short walk to St. Peter’s Basilica, which by the way is MASSIVE.
I waited in a line a short while since they have airport-style security at the entrance. First thing I did was to climb to the top of the dome (tickets for stairs were cheaper than the elevator). The ascent seemed endless, but the view at the top was well worth the exertion.
From there I got to walk around the roof, to discover that there is a GIFT SHOP on top of the holiest church in all of Christendom. It was run by nuns, and I bought a rosary for my sister. She wanted one blessed by the pope, but since they didn’t smell like sauerkraut, I assumed he was nowhere near them. The fact that it was daily hanging over  His Holiness’ head is sufficient to say it’s worth more than the plastic rosaries they make in China.
From the roof was a descent into the interior of the church. The place is as massive as it is magnificent. Latin written all over, endless statuary and shiny ornamentation. Only drawback was that it lacked in the pipe organ department. However, my father is a pipe organist and he said that St. Peter’s, if you can believe it, is too big an acoustic space for such instrument!
St. Peter’s is a shining example of the belittling effect a cathedral is designed to have on a tiny, insignificant human being who needs the fear of God struck into him. When I left the place, I discovered a convenient little place called the Vatican post office, where I could buy stamps and postcards and mail them out all in the same spot. I sent a postcard to my girlfriend Stephanie and to Julie Goell, my roommate’s mother who went to school in Italy and gave me copious advice on how to make the most of my stay in Rome. Multe grazie, Giulia!
The next logical thing to do at the Vatican is to see its spectacular museums. There I saw countless antiquities and Renaissance art, including my favorite painting of all time, Raphael’s “School of Athens.” I took longer staring at this very large mural than I did at the Sistine Chapel ceiling (partly because the guard in the latter place kept yelling at everybody to keep quiet and to not take pictures).
The museum took most of the day to get through, and not a single part of the place isn’t worth checking out. This was by far the best museum I’ve ever seen, and may stay that way.
It was getting dark when I exited Vatican City and made my way back into the middle of town, where I stumbled across the Theater of Marcellus and a brightly lit up Temple of Apollo the Healer. From there it was dinner time (8 PM in Italy) so I found a little Sicilian trattoria tucked away near Trajan’s Column. I got Pasta alla Salmone and it was multo bene. So ended Day Two, which because I wasn’t sleep-deprived and cranky, I’d say was my favorite day.

ROMA – Day One

So begins my account of the most wonderful adventure upon which I ever embarked, a four-night odyssey to and through the eternal city of Rome. In less than a week I breezed through two-and-a-half millennia of history, from the ruins of the Roman Republic, to the fountains and churches of the high Baroque era, to the monuments of Italian nationalism.

More photos can be seen on Facebook. Here for ancient stuff – http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018166&id=1232460105
and here for the rest, stuff like churches and fountains – http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018168&id=1232460105

So here we go!

Alitalia is a nice airline, especially in that English is treated second class to Italian. Sleeping on international flights is always difficult, especially when the yahoo next to you is watching, out loud, the movie “2012″ on his portable DVD player. Just as I managed to fall asleep, he turns on the bloody reading light. Not much later, the crew literally shoves breakfast into my face. But I didn’t mind, because Italian coffee is AMAZING, and set things right.

Anyway, took the train in from the airport, and the first thing I see is part of an aqueduct. Bits of these arched water systems are all over the city.

Did I mention that I nearly cried when I saw the Mediterranean out the plane window? To think that was the legendary sea that Odysseus and Aeneas sailed. And then I saw land…

When I left the train station I got intentionally lost, and good thing because I stumbled upon the Arch of Gallienus, built in the 3rd century CE. It had the first Latin inscription I had ever read on a real Roman monument. It read “To Gallienus, the most merciful prince, whose unconquered valor is only surpassed by his piety.”

From there I made it through on-and-off rain to my hostel. Wasn’t there long because I was eager to get down to the Forum. But first I stopped for some pizza, and accidentally ordered a whole one that I couldn’t possibly eat in one sitting. So I proceeded to walk through the Imperial Fora with a box of pizza in my hands. This column capital made a nice dining surface.

Did I mention that there’s Latin written EVERYWHERE. Every monument, church and temple has Latin written all over it, and thanks to Mussolini, the letters SPQR are also ubiquitous.

First thing was to walk through the Imperial Fora, those of Trajan, Augustus and Julius Caesar. All had ruins of temples, but Trajan’s forum had the remains of a marketplace and of course his perfectly-preserved column.
Then I walked into the Forum Romanum. I was absolutely spellbound. Photography doesn’t do justice in giving you a sense of how HUGE these monuments are. The Temple of Saturn and the Arch of Septimius Severus are monolithic to the extreme.

I spent forever in the forum. So much to see. But I eventually went over to the Palatine, the imperial palace complex, which is mostly brick ruins after most of the pretty stone and marble was recycled in the Middle Ages.
The Palatine complex is quite extensive, fit for a king (or at least a de facto king), with the Circus Maximus on one side, and a great view of the Forum on the other: a perfect vantage point to view one’s domain.

After a lengthy tour of the Palatine Hill, I descended to the Arch of Titus, built by Domitian in honor of his late brother (r. 79-81 CE) who was victorious in a war against the Jews, with the spoils to prove it.
Continuing down the Via Sacra landed me in front of the Flavian Amphitheater, now known as the Colosseum. Talk about massive!
After a tour through the Colosseum’s massive interior, I made a southerly trek to the largest bath complex in Rome, those of the emperor Caracalla (r. early 200′s). This is where Romans exercised in the palaestra, got massages, then got clean in a series of baths, starting at the caldarium (hot water),  tepidarium (warm water) and frigidarium (cold water) before swimming some laps in the natatio.

So concluded Day One, as I was so sleep-deprived and sore from so much walking that I crawled back to my hostel (after getting a big bowl of gelato!) and passed out.

aestatis legenda

I’m free! Summer has begun and I am back in Westport Island, Maine for a month of R&R before I begin working at the Squire Tarbox Inn. So while I will continue the terza rima rendering, I’ll have time to read a whole bunch of fun stuff in preparation for my dream semester of Fall ’09. That’s right, all my classes taught by Drs. Passman, Bregman, Palmer and Howard. So in preparation for this holy tetrarchy of philology, history, politics and philosophy I have compiled a summer reading list of various classical and contemporary works. 

For Dr. Palmer’s Classical Political Thought I will be re-reading works by Plato, Thucydides and Aristotle, mainly the Republic, Histories and Politics. I will also look into the works of Xenophon and modern commentaries on these cornerstones of ancient political science. 

Some of these works will also help the thesis project, as Vergil (and Dante to a lesser extent) certainly drew influence from Plato and Aristotle to some degree. I am currently reading Plato’s Timaeus and Critias, and will follow it up with a recent work by Gregory Vlastos called Plato’s Universe. Other helpful texts have come through my audiobook subscription, such as The Dream of Reason, a history of ancient philosophy by Anthony Gottlieb. And in parallel to re-reading the Divina Commedia I am listening to a Modern Scholar lecture series on it delivered by Dr. Timothy Shutt. 

For Dr. Bregman’s History of Greece I will re-read parts of Herodotus and Thucydides, and pick up Xenophon’s Persian Expedition. I’ve also found a lecture series on Greek history through Audible.com.

Lastly, I will be “sitting in” on Dr. Passman’s online summer course for Ovid’s Metamorphoses, as a means to keep my Latin skills sharp before we dive into Vergil this fall. 

Please drop me a note if you have any other texts to recommend. I’m counting on devouring more literature than I have listed here, so if I missed anything, ancient or modern, bring it to my attention. Thank you and happy summer to all.

De Tacito

While Livy wrote at the empire’s consolidation, Publius Cornelius Tacitus wrote at the zenith of Roman conquest under Trajan. Through his Annals and Histories he is the authority on the years from the death of Augustus (14 CE) to that of Domitian in 96. The former work bears heavy focus on the personalities of emperors and their role in a post-Republican society. In Book XII we find the British king Caratacus at the court of Claudius. In a short speech, this noble savage examines the Roman right of subjugation and the dignity of foreign peoples:

Si quanta nobilitas et Fortuna mihi fuit, tanta rerum prosperarum moderatio fuisset, amicus potius in hanc urbem quam captus venissem, neque dedignatus esses claris maiorbius ortum, plurimis gentibus imperitantem foedere in pacem accipere. Praesens sors mea ut mihi informis, sic tibi magnifica est. Habui equos viros, arma opes. Quid mirum si haec invitus amisi? Nam si vos omnibus imperitare vultis, sequitur ut omnes servitutem accipiant? Si statim deditus traderer, neque mea Fortuna neque tua gloria inclaruisset; et supplicium mei oblivio sequeretur; at si incolumem servaveris, aeternum exemplar clementiae ero. (Tacitus, Annals XII.xxxvii.92-103)
 
If moderation of successes had been as great as my nobility and Fortune, I might be coming to this city more preferably a friend than a captive, nor would you have disdained to receive in peace by treaty one having risen from brilliant ancestors and commanding several nations. My present lot, disfiguring as it is to me, is magnificent to you. I had horses, men, weapons and wealth. What wonder is it if I have lost these things unwillingly? For if you wish to command all peoples, does it follow that they all accept slavery? If I were handed over in immediate surrender, neither my Fortune nor your glory would have seemed so brilliant; and my punishment would be followed by oblivion; but if you keep me free from harm, I will be an eternal example of your clemency.

This passage discusses the role of pomp and circumstance in sustaining the emperor’s reputation. Citizens prefer triumphs rather than preemptive diplomacy. It is the contrast of the enemy’s humiliation that glorifies the victor. Caratacus makes this specific point directly to Claudius (esses) before addressing the Romans in general on the question of domination (vos omnibus imperitare vultis). Thus Tacitus renders advice both to his patron and his people. He reminds the latter audience that their affluent society is built on slave labor, and that these slaves were once dignified men like themselves. The only difference was the vicissitude of Fortune. This also counters Aristotle’s view that people are masters and slaves by nature; the Politics favored patricians, who equated birth with merit. Tacitus favored merit, his patrons’ system of succession, after a century of calamitous family rule. Caratacus doesn’t revile Claudius as would Mithridates; but the majority of Tacitus’ imperial characters would get such treatment. From the “uncivilized” perspective, the spectacle of supremacy becomes a “vanity of vanities.”            

           

While historians are products of their environment, they can still weave common threads across time and space. What we find are deeper philosophical and ethical questions, the answers to which determine an entire view of the past and present. Sallust wrote among the turbulence of civil strife, the consequence of a spoiled state. Through Mithridates he exposes Roman virtues as the vices that were tearing his fatherland to pieces, with such rhetoric that Pompey or Sulla would never use. Livy wrote in a cheerful aftermath. He lacked the cynicism to condemn the past; rather he reopened the debate over preordination. But Tacitus saw imperial calamity equal to that of the late Republic. He compromised distaste for enslavement with the meritocracy of his Good Emperors.

Rome’s enemies were at variance with the idea that Rome was superior both by destiny and nobility. The course of events was unkind to them. Thus they more credited the goddess Fortuna’s work than any other. She is the patron saint of humanism. Through her, Sallust can censure the bestial rapacity of Roman conquest; Livy can raise Hannibal to Scipio’s level; likewise Caratacus to Claudius through Tacitus. Removing divine favor accentuates human achievement, however inhumane.

The proper historian does not simply relate facts. He offers multiple perspectives and the lessons wherefrom. Without a look from without, history becomes mere propaganda. Voicing an alternative worldview through adversaries is how the narrator places himself in the narrative, without the perils of sedition. The prosperity of Rome from Scipio to Claudius is at first glance providential. Therefore Sallust, Livy and Tacitus took Romans’ heads out of the clouds, brought them down to earth, and let them face their fellow human beings, even those across the battlefield. 

De Livio

And that brings us to Titus Livius. His monumental Ab Urbe Condita, a full compendium of Roman history, survives only to cover the monarchy, early Republic, and Punic Wars. Of the latter he pens an exhaustive account of how two Mediterranean superpowers vied for world domination. Livy represents the Augustan program of re-foundation by reliving Rome’s glorious, virtuous past. To justify his patron’s reign, he established models such as Numa, Camillus, and Scipio; the latter of which was the hero of the Second Punic War. In Book XXX we find his arch nemesis Hannibal offering an armistice before the pivotal battle of Zama. The name of Hannibal to Roman society was equal to that of Hitler to ours. As the greatest threat to the physical welfare of the city of Rome herself, Hannibal was popularized as a barbarian butcher. So for Livy to grant him such civil discourse tells his readers to take his viewpoint seriously.

Si hoc ita fato datum erat, ut qui primus bellum intuli populo Romano quique totiens prope in manibus victoriam habui, is ultro ad pacem petendam venirem, laetor te mihi sorte potissimum datum a quo peterem. Tibi quoque inter multa egregia non in ultimis laudum hoc fuerit, Hannibalem, cui tot de Romanis ducibus victoriam di dedissent, tibi cessisse…hoc quoque ludibrium casus ediderit Fortuna…optimum quidem fuerat eam patribus nostris mentem datam ab dis esse ut et vos Italiae et nos Africae imperio contenti essemus; neque enim ne vobis quidem Sicilia ac Sardinia satis digna pretia sunt pro tot classibus, tot exercitibus, tot tam egregiis amissis ducibus. Sed praeterita magis reprehendi possunt quam corrigi. Ita aliena adpetivimus ut de nostris dimicaremus, nec in Italia solum nobis bellum, vobis in Africa esset, sed et vos in portis vestris prope ac moenibus signa armaque hostium vidistis et nos ab Carthagine fremitum castrorum Romanorum exaudimus. Quod igitur nos maxime abominaremur, vos ante omina optaretis, in meliore vestra Fortuna de pace agitur. (Livy, Ab Urbe Condita XXX.xxx.3-9)
 
If this was thus granted by fate, that I, first to have waged war on the Roman people and who so often nearly had victory in my clutches, at the end would be coming to you to beg for peace, and I rejoice that it is you, most preferably granted by destiny, from whom I might seek it. For you also, among your many distinctions, this will have been not the least of your honors, that Hannibal, to whom the gods had granted victory over so many Roman generals, has surrendered to you…Fortune also may prove these events to be her mere sport…indeed it would have been best that an attitude had been granted to our fathers by the gods that you might be content with control of Italy and us of Africa; for not even Sicily and Sardinia are worthy enough prizes for us at the cost of so many fleets, so many armies, and so many such excellent generals being lost. But the past can be more easily disgraced than corrected. Thus grasping at foreign lands it resulted that we fight for our own, and that our war was not solely in Italy, nor yours in Africa, rather you have seen the standards and arms of the enemy near your walls and we from Carthage have heard the rustle of a Roman camp. Consequently that which we most abominate, you pray for before all things: a suit for peace while Fortune is in your favor.

This speech discusses the Livian conflict of Fata versus Fortuna. Is history fatalistic and divinely predetermined? Or does chance and probability govern events? The first sentence reinforces the historical irony that Hannibal, who decimated entire armies on Italian soil, on his own faces defeat. Thus he entertains the question whether such an improbable event was willed supernally (si hoc ita fato datum erat). Vergil would say yes, and his colleague Livy was sure to let his audience imagine the teleology behind Augustus’ rise to power. Also arguing for this is Hannibal’s certitude, in the second sentence, that the gods were once on his side (victoriam di dedissent).

But then he considers the other argument, that Fortuna held superior sway, mockingly impartial (ludibrium). Perhaps no logos governs events, only chaos. Favoring this contradicts the Stoic cosmos manifested in the Augustan regime, whereby a single mind maintains cosmopolitan order. But attributing such thoughts to a fiend like Hannibal keeps the historian innocent. Livy does humanize Hannibal as he expresses his wish (optimum quidem) that divine intervention were possible (mentem datam ab dis), especially to avoid tragic losses (pro tot classibus…amissis). However, keeping the two empires at peace would not fulfill a fatalistic teleology of history. 

How you answer this central question is essential to understanding Hannibal’s role in the narrative. If the Fates are to blame, then Hannibal appears a fool to have opposed Rome’s destiny. The moral is not to impede (aliena adpetivimus) those whom Heaven favors. But if dame Fortune was the culprit, he offers one of the greatest lessons of Livy’s masterpiece: don’t push your luck! It was mere chance that there was a polar shift in circumstances, that both peoples faced doom. The scales of Fortune balance unpredictably and impartially. It was equally probable that Scipio would be the one begging for peace, while Fortune favored the Carthaginians (in meliore vestra Fortuna de pace agitur).

Lastly, note the shift from singular to plural. The speech begins as a direct address to Scipio, describing the feats of Hannibal alone. This matches the Vergilian epic paradigm of gods and heroes entertained simultaneously. So as he shifts from Fata to Fortuna, he widens the scope of history from the one to the many. For an ancient scholar reading out loud, to start speaking vos and vobis got the attention of his fellow Romans. Likewise Hannibal represents the Carthaginian worldview speaking nos and nobis. What starts as a theatrical heroic monologue becomes a cultural exposition, that Carthage was just as likely to rule the world as Rome, and that the Carthaginians felt the same terrors as Romans with the enemy at the gates. Through the adversary’s perspective, Livy clears his compatriots’ eyes of the God complex reinforced by centuries of unrivaled success. What they see is a time before being Roman afforded universal reverence. 

De Sallustio

In addition to my training as a Latinist I am also striving to become an ancient historian. Conveniently, this semester’s advanced Latin sequence course “Prose of the Late Republic & Early Empire” is examining the works of Julius Caesar and Cornelius Tacitus and their discourses on Roman Britain. Consisting of only the “Triumvirate” of James Brophy, Joe Mileson and yours truly, it has been the most intense Latin course yet, moving at graduate-pace over one of the most difficult prose stylists of antiquity, Tacitus. Thus I am having a very intimate experience with ancient historiography. For a research project I opted to trace that tradition across three periods of the Roman literary tradition: the civil wars and the Golden and Silver ages. Of the two latter I studied Livy and Tacitus. In this first installment of this historical triptych, I look at part of Sallust’s Histories, a fragmentary work of the chaotic middle 1st-century BCE.

So I introduce my discussion of Roman historians’ adoption of Rome’s enemies as voiced figures in their narratives. All translations are my own:

“History is the privilege of the conqueror. Chroniclers of every victorious nation, from antiquity to modernity, encapsulate their patria’s perspective in prose. Authors of the height of Rome enjoyed the fruits of empire heaped upon their own ruling class. Some were also thankful to have a patron monarch to immortalize their interpretations of the past and present. But what of the conquered? Surely their viewpoints would enrich a universal understanding of history, however contrary to those of the rulers. In the same way Thucydides placed the Spartan worldview in the mouths of his enemies, so Roman annalists gave voice to the vanquished. Pretending a look from without, they offer a different, perhaps more honest interpretation of their epoch.

So let us examine texts representing the triptych of Rome’s climax: the Civil War, the Golden and Silver ages. In that order Sallust, Livy and Tacitus apply their present perspectives to past events. Each briefly adopts the antagonist’s persona: Sallust of Mithridates, Livy of Hannibal and Tacitus of Caratacus. In separate departures from the Roman frame of mind, and across time, they offer the greatest lessons of the circumstances and consequences of imperium Romanum. 

Though Livy wrote of an earlier period, an historian’s own context determines the nature of his writing. Gaius Sallustius Crispus (86-34 BCE) is famous for his works on the Jugurthine War and the conspiracy of Catiline; but his opus maius was the Histories of the years 78-67 BCE. Only fragments remain of a work undoubtedly insightful into internal and external conflicts. Of the latter he must have covered the Third Mithridatic War, of whose namesake monarch a letter to Parthia remains. Adopting the guise of Mithridates VI frees Sallust from all patriotism in one of the most anti-Roman polemics written in Golden Age Latin.

Ille enim obnoxius qualem tu voles societatem accipiet, mihi Fortuna multis rebus ereptis usum dedit bene suadendi et, quod florentibus optabile est, ego non validissumus praebeo exemplum, quo rectius tua componas. (Sallust, Epistula Mithridatis line 4)
 
For [Tigranes] is at your mercy and will accept an alliance such as to your liking, and Fortune, though many things she took from me, has granted me the advantage of good advice and, since it is advantageous for those flourishing, I not at the height of my power serve as an example in respect of which you may conduct your affairs more rightly.

Mithridates, defeated by Pompey, warns the king of Parthia to join forces with Armenia in a crusade against Roman hegemony. Fallen from power, his humbled position provides a clearer view from below, no longer blinded by confidence and success. Could this also be Sallust’s advice to the Rome? Through Mithridates, he teaches his own people that the counsel of the conquered can be just as if not more valuable to the conquerors. Rome viewed Parthia as a rival empire as menacing as the treacherous text below:

Namque Romanis cum nationibus, populis, regibus cunctis una et ea vetus causa bellendi est, cupido profunda imperi et divitiarum; qua primo cum rege Macedonum Philippo bellum sumpsere, dum a Carthaginiensibus premebantur amicitiam simulantes. Ei subvenientem Antiochum concessione Asiae per dolum avortere, ac mox fracto Philippo Antiochus omni cis Taurum agro et decem milibus talentorum spoliatus est….Persen deinde… (Sallust, Epistula Mithridatis 5-7)
 
For to the Romans there is one inveterate reason for waging war on all nations, peoples and kings: a profound lust of power and riches; by which they first began a war with king Philip of the Macedonians, hitherto feigning friendship with him while they were being pressured by the Carthaginians. Through trickery they diverted Antiochus, who was coming in aid, by the surrender of Asia, and soon after Philip was crushed Antiochus was robbed of all his land this side of the Taurus mountains and of ten thousand talents. Next Perses…

Sallust tears away the façade of honos and virtus for the real forces behind Roman domination: cupido profunda imperi et divitiarum, “a profound lust of power and riches.” Sallust, born plebeian, had no reason to defend the nobility’s exploitation of peoples at home and abroad. Military valor and diplomatic honesty sugarcoat the true treachery behind the tactics of empire. Alliances (amicitiam simulantes) only last as long as they are needed to eliminate a common threat, whenceforth allies become more profitable as provinces than client kingdoms. Note the passive and objective roles of Rome’s victims, as if the absence of Rome would allow a peaceful world. Sallust describes the two centuries since the Punic Wars as Rome’s enslavement of the Mediterranean, the spoils of which have polluted the capital with luxury and vice.

Nam quid ego me appellem? Quem diiunctum undique regnis et tetrarchiis ab imperio eorum, quia fama erat divitem neque serviturum esse, per Nicomedem bello lacessiverunt, sceleris eorum haud ignarum…ego ultus iniurias Nicomedem Bithynia expuli Asiamque spolium regis Antiochi recepi et Graeciae dempsi grave servitium. Incepta mea postremus servorum Archelaus exercitu prodito impedivit. (Sallust, Epistula Mithridatis 10-12)
 
For why should I call upon my own affairs? Although I was separated from their empire by kingdoms and tetrarchies on all sides, because it was rumored I was rich and that I would not become a slave, [the Romans] provoked me to war by way of Nicomedes, though I was not at all unaware of their villainy…I avenging these injustices expelled Nicomedes from Bithynia, recovered Asia and the spoils taken from king Antiochus, and redeemed the Greeks from cruel slavery. Then Archelaus, the basest of slaves, frustrated my undertakings by betraying my army.

Observe the contrast in language describing Mithridates and the Romans. The former becomes a messianic avenger (ultus…dempsi) of the Hellenistic world; the latter and her allies the harbingers of slavery (grave servitium…postremus servorum), of fraudulence (sceleris…prodito), and injustice (iniurias). Sallust sets Mithridates up as the savior of the Greek-speaking world, defending the rights of sovereign peoples in the shadow of a cosmopolitan superpower. Note how this change in perspective spins the “liberation” of Greece by Flamininus into what it really was: the exchange from one dominus to another. Finally, he casts loyalists to the Roman state as the “basest of slaves” (postremus servorum) for they surrendered themselves willingly, rather than in dignified defeat. Through Mithridates, Sallust offers the victims’ perspective much as Vergil wrote his alternative account of the Trojan War.  

An ignoras Romanos, postquam ad occidentem pergentibus finem Oceanus fecit, arma huc convortisse? Neque quicquam a principio nisi raptum habere, domum, coniuges, agros, imperium? Convenas olim sine patria, parentibus, pestem conditos orbis terrarum, quibus non humana ulla neque divina obstant, quin socios, amicos, procul iuxta sitos, inopes potentisque trahant excindant, omniaque non serva et maxume regna hostilia ducant…Romani arma in omnis habent, acerruma in eos, quibus victis spolia maxuma; audendo et fallundo et bella ex bellis serundo magni facti. (Sallust, Epistula Mithridatis 17-21)
 
Or are you ignorant of the fact that it was only after the Ocean set a boundary to their westward progress that the Romans turned their arms in our direction? That they have possessed nothing since their inception except that which they have stolen: their home, their wives, their lands, their empire? That they at one time were vagabonds without a fatherland, without parents, founded as a the scourge of the world, no laws human or divine hinder them from destroying allies and friends, those far and near, those weak and mighty, and from considering every state that isn’t a slave to them, especially monarchies, as hostile.

Compare this first line of this passage to Aeneid I.287: imperium oceano, famam qui terminet astris (he will limit his empire by the ocean, his fame by the stars). Whereas Vergil, under Augustus’ regime, would justify conquest as a gift of the gods (imperium sine fine dedi), Sallust attributes it to a very Machiavellian cupido profunda imperi. We see a similar variance between Manifest Destiny and the Native American viewpoint. Next he preempts the mythical exordia of Ab Urbe Condita I with criminal origins. How cynical for Sallust to condemn what even his fellow moralists long for! “His careful study of Thucydides and Cato is apparent.” He combines the speech writing of the former with the moralism of the latter. In the safety of an enemy’s correspondence, Roman history is depraved from the start, not a virtuous past succumbing to décadence.

What permitted such contemptuous words to spice up the literary canon? First of all, the author can plead innocence, claiming an adversary’s words as not his own, but hearsay or translation. However, the literate and thus intelligent audience would not easily take this as the direct speech of Mithridates. Sallust, a popularis, benefited from the dictator Caesar’s free speech policy. After 44 BCE, the political vacuum granted space to operate objectively, before Octavian’s clients redefined Roman literature.”