A narrative, you notice, not the narrative. The object of inquiry in this opening chapter is the literary material available to a historian desiring to produce a narrative history of the Roman Empire between the assassination of Julius Caesar (44 bce) and the death of Constantine (337 ce), the sort of thing you’ll find, in fact, in Part II, ‘‘The Narrative,’’ where the demonstrative pronoun indicates ‘‘the narrative used in this book,’’ not ‘‘the one and only narrative.’’ A glance at that section will make it immediately clear that literary material is only one of many components currently used in constructing a narrative, but it is an appropriate place to begin, largely because it comes closest to supplying the organizational structure essential to any narrative, namely, a chronologically-arranged account of historically significant events. Such an account will almost certainly not be an adequate history of a period (hence Parts III, IV, and V), but it is generally a useful beginning. We will see below, however, that this linear structure sometimes fails even as a beginning, that there are periods when equally significant events are occurring in two or more areas simultaneously.
The narrative that our literary sources support most readily is the sort that the ancient authors were themselves trying to produce, namely, a narrative of power. Historically significant events were, to their way of thinking, either political or military. The historian asked Who had power? and How was power used, both internally and externally? In the imperial period such questions took him straight to the emperor, the ‘‘guiding spirit,’’ as one of Tacitus’ characters put it, of‘‘the single body of the empire’’ (Ann. 1.12.3). Tacitus himself discusses the consequence of the political structure for historiography later in the work (Ann. 4.32-3):
I am well aware that many of the incidents I have narrated (and intend to narrate) seem unimportant and even trivial for a history. But one should not compare my Annals with the works of those who wrote on the affairs of the Roman people long ago. They treated great wars, cities being sacked, kings defeated and captured, and, when they turned to internal affairs, conflict between consuls and tribunes, laws about land ownership and the grain dole, the struggle between the plebeian and elite orders, all with a free hand. My task, however, is narrow in compass and without glory.... Now that the nature of our state is different, and security lies only in the rule of one man, it is worthwhile investigating and reporting these things.
With ‘‘these things’’ he refers to events from the narrative that preceded this digression, some trials of men charged (rightly or wrongly) with various offenses against the emperor, a sorry spectacle of ambition, betrayal, fear, favoritism, obsequiousness, and hidden agendas. In other words, a far cry from victorious battles and political convulsions. But however much Tacitus may regret the focus on the emperor and the diminution of the historian’s opportunities, these realities could not be denied. The literary sources examined in the balance of this chapter are grouped by genre (history, biography, summary history, limited history), but in all of them the historically significant event is generally connected with the center of power, i. e. with the emperor (Pelling 1997).
The exceptions only prove the rule. Suppose, for example, you want to know about the political situation in January of 69 ce. Tracking the emperor, Galba, will take you to Rome. There you will find that his hold on power is tenuous, since a coup is being planned under his very nose. The machinations of an erstwhile supporter and some praetorian guardsmen go unnoticed, however, since Galba’s attention is drawn to another challenge to his power, this one mounted by the legions in Germany and a provincial governor. Galba’s rivals, Otho and Vitellius respectively, are not acting in tandem, so the historian cannot subordinate one to the other. But a text, at least as texts are traditionally presented, cannot narrate simultaneous events simultaneously. In the best surviving account of this period, Tacitus’ Histories, the historian reports the two coups sequentially, as he must, putting first the coup that came to fruition first, Otho’s (Hist. 1.21-47; Vitellius’ movement begins at 1.51). A different arrangement was possible. Indeed when Tacitus is faced with another set of parallel events, the two-pronged invasion of Italy by Vitellius’ two commanders, Valens and caecina, he puts second the narrative of caecina’s route, which reached Italy first (Valens: 1.63-6; Caecina: 1.67-70). Tacitus deals perfectly competently with these small challenges to the single linear narrative format. Both Otho’s coup and Vitellius’ were decided within a span of a few months, and the invasion of Italy took less time than that. But the political chaos of the mid-third century, roughly 235-84, posed a far greater challenge to linear narrative, with consequences to the literary tradition that will become apparent below (Potter, this volume).
World History
