The Rise and Fall of Everything: Thomas Cole’s “The Course of Empire
- Johnny Bee
- Jul 30
- 5 min read
Updated: Aug 1
There’s a quiet moment in the final painting of Thomas Cole’s The Course of Empire when the ruins of a once-mighty city are bathed in the soft light of dusk. The grand triumphs, the festive arches, the bloody defeats, they’re all gone. All that remains is nature. And a heron.
In the 1830s, the United States was undergoing what many viewed as a bold new chapter. The Erie Canal was transforming the economy, westward expansion was in full swing, and the first locomotives had begun to connect the nation’s sprawling landscapes. But while much of America was embracing the momentum of industrialisation and empire-building, one artist, Thomas Cole, looked on with apprehension.
His response was The Course of Empire, a five-painting cycle created between 1833 and 1836 that tells the story of a civilisation’s birth, glory, destruction, and return to silence. Notably, it wasn’t just an artistic venture, it was a philosophical warning. Through oil on canvas, Cole suggested that the pursuit of progress without restraint leads only to ruin.
Who Was Thomas Cole?
Thomas Cole was born in Lancashire, England, in 1801 and immigrated to the United States in 1818. He settled in the Hudson River Valley and eventually became the founder of the Hudson River School, a group of artists known for romanticised depictions of American landscapes.
Though best remembered today as a landscape painter, Cole saw himself as a moralist, a storyteller with a brush. His work went beyond visual beauty – it was layered with symbolism, allegory, and cultural commentary. In The Course of Empire, he took on one of the biggest subjects imaginable: the destiny of civilisation itself.
The Five Acts of an Empire
The structure of The Course of Empire is deliberately theatrical. Like a Shakespearean tragedy, it moves through five stages – each set in the same imaginary location, marked by a distinctive rock formation. From untouched wilderness to grand metropolis to total decay, Cole’s empire tells a familiar story.
1. The Savage State – Where It All Begins
In the opening panel, we see nature in its raw form: jagged rocks, thick forests, and a hunter in animal skins chasing a deer through the undergrowth. Smoke rises from small fires near simple huts, and canoes paddle across an untamed bay. It’s Spring, both literally and metaphorically – a time of beginnings.
Here, Cole paints the very first blush of society. The people cooperate, build rudimentary shelters, and find joy in music and dance. But this is not an ideal. It’s survival.
As Cole described it, “The chase being the most characteristic occupation of savage life… the useful arts have commenced.” Already, humans are asserting themselves over nature.
2. The Arcadian State – Simplicity and Harmony
Fast-forward a few generations and the same landscape has transformed. The forest is cleared, fields are tilled, and shepherds tend to flocks. A village thrives along the bay, a temple rises on the hill, and music and geometry make their first appearances.
This is the pastoral ideal – the “just right” middle ground between wilderness and excess. There’s religion, art, commerce, and community. In one of the painting’s many rich details, a boy etches a soldier with a sword into stone, hinting at what’s to come.
This, Cole seemed to suggest, is the pinnacle of civilisation. And it never lasts.
3. The Consummation of Empire – Power at Its Peak
Suddenly, we are overwhelmed. The village has grown into a magnificent marble city. Vast temples, triumphal arches, and golden trophies gleam in the midday sun. Crowds line the streets. Incense burns. An emperor – dressed in purple and pulled by an elephant – parades through the capital as a conqueror.
This is the height of glory. It’s also the tipping point.
Here, Cole critiques what he saw as the overreach of empire – the pride, the grandeur, the displacement of nature by concrete and gold. “Man has conquered man,” he wrote, “nations have been subjugated.” It’s worth noting that Cole lived during the presidency of Andrew Jackson – a populist military hero whose aggressive policies (especially regarding Native Americans) may have influenced the depiction of this imperial leader.
4. Destruction – Collapse from Within and Without
The fourth painting is chaos. The same bridge once festooned with flowers is now strewn with corpses. Temples burn. Statues lie decapitated. Soldiers drag women through the streets. War galleys crash in the harbour as the city’s final defences fall.
Violence, decadence, and arrogance have led to ruin. As Cole put it, “Luxury has weakened and debased… a barbarous and destroying enemy conquers and sacks the city.”
This is no slow decline. The collapse is fast, cruel, and total.
5. Desolation – Return to the Earth
The final canvas is quiet. The sun has set, the moon glows faintly, and the proud city is now overgrown with moss. Ivy creeps up the ruins. A single column remains, and a lone bird – a heron – nests upon it. Nature has reclaimed what once belonged to it.
The message? Empires fall, but the earth endures.
This painting is often interpreted as a return to the beginning. Not necessarily as a cycle, but as a final resting point. The human story is gone. The rock remains.
A Visual Sermon
Cole didn’t just paint this series for aesthetic enjoyment. He believed in its message deeply. In advertisements for the paintings, he quoted Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage:
“First freedom and then Glory – when that fails, / Wealth, vice, corruption – barbarism at last.”
The moral is clear: every empire, no matter how brilliant, contains the seeds of its own destruction.
It wasn’t a popular message in the America of the 1830s. Cole’s patron, Luman Reed, a successful merchant and firm believer in the nation’s potential, nevertheless installed the series in his mansion’s picture gallery. Cole even designed how the paintings would be arranged – the path of the sun reflecting the passage of time: rising (Savage State), at its zenith (Consummation), and setting (Desolation).
An American Warning
Cole’s pessimism stood in stark contrast to the era’s manifest destiny. Many Americans, including Supreme Court Justice Levi Woodbury, dismissed the idea that their new republic would follow the same doomed arc as Rome or Carthage. For Woodbury and his peers, American democracy would be a continuing rise – not a cycle.
But Cole, an immigrant, saw things differently. His adopted homeland, he feared, was building itself on the same dreams – and delusions – as every other fallen empire. The Course of Empire was his painted warning.
Legacy and Relevance
Today, The Course of Empire is housed at the New-York Historical Society and remains one of the most haunting and ambitious works in American art. It has inspired countless artists, writers, and thinkers – from 19th-century critics to modern ecological movements.
Its timeless themes still resonate: the danger of unchecked power, the fragility of achievement, and the enduring strength of nature.
In a world where cities rise fast and fall hard – whether through war, climate, or economic collapse – Cole’s cycle of paintings feels less like a relic of the past and more like a forecast.
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Written by Johnny Bee, Ink-Stained Riddlemonger
Contributor, UtterlyInteresting.com — exploring the strange and forgotten corners of history.
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