nerveless servility, a luxury of self-abasement. Their meekness would
never inherit the earth. Tacitus pours scorn on the philosophic
opponents of the Principate, who while refusing to serve the emperor
and pretending to hope for the restoration of the republic, could
contribute nothing more useful than an ostentatious suicide. His own
career, and still more the career of his father-in-law Agricola,
showed that even under bad emperors a man could be great without
dishonour. Tacitus was no republican in any sense of the word, but
rather a monarchist _malgré lui_. There was nothing for it but to pray
for good emperors and put up with bad ones.

Those who decry Tacitus for prejudice against the Empire forget that
he is describing emperors who were indubitably bad. We have lost his
account of Vespasian's reign. His praise of Augustus and of Trajan was
never written. The emperors whom he depicts for us were all either
tyrannical or contemptible, or both: no floods of modern biography can
wash them white. They seemed to him to have degraded Roman life and
left no room for _virtus_ in the world. The verdict of Rome had gone
against them. So he devotes to their portraiture the venom which the
fifteen years of Domitian's reign of terror had engendered in his
heart. He was inevitably a pessimist; his ideals lay in the past; yet
he clearly shows that he had some hope of the future. Without sharing
Pliny's faith that the millennium had dawned, he admits that Nerva and
Trajan have inaugurated 'happier times' and combined monarchy with
some degree of personal freedom.

There are other reasons for the 'dark shadows' in Tacitus' work.
History to a Roman was _opus oratorium,_ a work of literary art. Truth
is a great but not a sufficient merit. The historian must be not only
_narrator_ but _ornator rerum_. He must carefully select and arrange