The Use of the Past
Tacitus claimed to have written sine ira et studio, (without anger or passion), or, in other words, without partiality either positive or negative. The great Greek historian Thucydides (c. 460–-c. 400 BCE) wrote his Peloponnesian War in the belief that an accurate knowledge of the past would be useful for the future. (Thuc. 1.22.4.) The first prerequisite to this end must, therefore, be accuracy, and, as far as possible, objectivity. True objectivity is probably not an attainable goal, but that does not exempt historians from at least making the attempt.
The starting point must be choice of language. For example, the phrase, “the unnerving but mercifully brief reign of Julian” could not be anything other than overtly subjective, judgmental, hostile, and emotive (Brown 1997a, p. 638)—and even more so than “Williamanmary was a Good King,” in 1066 And All That, the witty parody of traditional British historical writing, written by W.C. Sellar and R.J. Yeatman and published in 1930.
Because Julian “the Apostate” (r. 361–363) is known chiefly for his anti-Christian religious policy, it can safely be concluded that the negative description of his reign is motivated by disagreement with that policy, which ties in with the same author’s pro-Christian special pleading, and otherwise rose-tinted vision, inevitably plunging him headlong into a distorted view of the period. (See Chapter 12.)
Avoidance of overtly subjective, judgmental, and emotive language is important in itself, but also for another reason, namely, to use the study of the past as a tool for the future. But this can only be done on the basis of a tested empirical framework for the comparative study of different societies. There is nothing more disappointing than to see solid historical research run into a blind alley, for want of a properly analyzed framework, as happened to Sir Ronald Syme’s potentially valuable work on Augustus. Having correctly characterized Augustus’s rule as a monarchy, Syme opined that it was an oligarchy on the basis of a supposedly general “law” that “A monarchy rules through an oligarchy” (Syme, R., 1939, p. 8.)—a muddled conflation of two diametrically opposed forms of government. (See Chapter 1.) Chapter 6 illustrates how a correct formulation of power structure can be applied to different historical periods.
1 Rome From Monarchy to Monarchy
This chapter is an analysis of the power structure of the Roman state from its foundation, traditionally dated 753 BCE, to the accession of the Emperor Diocletian in 284. The chapter is divided into two sections. Section A is an analytical narrative, while Section B is a discussion of some of the main discordant views propounded in modern writings.
My own view is that the early monarchy, on which there is very little reliable evidence, was replaced around 509 BCE by a “republic” dominated by an oligarchy or aristocracy. Thus far, the power structure of the Roman state conforms to a universal pattern that I identified in my Two Models of Government, first published in 2016: monarchy succeeded by an oligarchy or aristocracy. By “oligarchy”, I mean government by an elite minority, and “aristocracy” refers to a hereditary oligarchy.
The accession of Julius Caesar’s heir, known to history as Augustus, replaced the republican oligarchy with a thinly disguised monarchy that was able to satisfy, or at least placate, all sectors of society and to provide a stable form of government that lasted for some three hundred years.
Section A. From Romulus to Diocletian
In the beginning, Rome was a monarchy. According to tradition, Rome, whose conventional founding date was 753 BCE, was first ruled by a succession of seven kings, starting with the eponymous Romulus, who, if he existed at all, must have been named after the city rather than the other way round. The whole period of the monarchy is extremely shadowy. Our main authority for it is the Roman Historian Titus Livius, or Livy, whose great Roman History, titled Ab Urbe Condita (“From the Foundation of the City”), was written some 500 years after the fall of the monarchy, which is commonly dated to 509 BCE. Livy felt obliged to relate traditional tales and legends about the early history of Rome, but he also had access to earlier historical accounts, and he actually provides a list of no fewer than a dozen authors’ names, the earliest being Quintus Fabius Pictor, whose history of Rome, written in Greek in around 200 BCE, survives only in fragmentary form.
The monarchy appears initially to have been not hereditary but elective, with the king being chosen by the Senate, an aristocratic council, and confirmed by the citizens meeting together in the Assembly known as the Comitia Curiata. The last three kings, Tarquinius Priscus, Servius Tullius, and Tarquinius Superbus (“Tarquin the Proud”), were reputedly Etruscans, and the monarchy seems to have become hereditary at that time, as the two Tarquins were either father and son or grandfather and grandson, and Servius Tullius was supposedly the younger Tarquin’s father-in-law.
Livy’s account of the last period of the monarchy paints a very confused picture, with Tarquinius Superbus initially cultivating the support of the Senate against Servius Tullius, his father-in-law, portrayed as a populist king, distributing conquered lands to the whole populace and enjoying widespread popular support. (Livy 1.46.1). Servius Tullius is even said to have been physically attacked by his son-in-law and murdered by Tarquin’s entourage. (Livy 1.48). Once ensconced in power, we are told, Tarquin “…killed the leading senators who he believed had favored the cause of Servius.” (Livy 1.49.2.1). This may indicate aristocratic opposition to his rule, which rather contradicts his earlier stance.
What, then, was the power-structure under the Roman monarchy? If the earlier kings really owed their position to election by the Senate, an aristocratic body, then that may point to an aristocratic regime from the start, with the king as essentially primus inter pares (first among equals). The last three kings, however, may possibly represent a period of Etruscan domination over Rome. So, the uprising that ended the monarchy may then be interpreted as the reclaiming by the indigenous Roman aristocracy of their previous pre-eminence against foreign domination. The only thing that appears to contradict this interpretation is the tradition that Lucius Junius Brutus and his co-conspirator Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus, who were chiefly instrumental in overthrowing Tarquin the Proud and would become the first two consuls of the new Republic, were both related to the king, and that Brutus had two of his sons put to death for siding with the ousted king. If there is any truth in this picture of a family feud, then it may be that Tarquin’s overthrow was the result of internecine conflict within the Roman aristocracy.
Relics of Monarchy
Long after this time, there were some telltale signs that Rome had actually been a monarchy. These included the position of interrex and that of rex sacrorum. The rex sacrorum (literally, “king of the holy”) was the patrician holder of the highest-ranking but largely ceremonial priesthood in the Roman state religion, who was in practice subordinate to the Pontifex Maximus (chief priest). The rex sacrorum, then, may be a relic of the religious functions originally carried out by the kings.
During the Republic, an interrex was elected by the Senate for five days only in order to hold elections when for some reason the consuls had been unable to do so. This office may possibly hark back to a time when there was a gap between two elective kings, causing an interregnum.
“Republic” and Democracy
The English word “republic” is a translation of the Latin res publica. The Latin adjective publica is a contraction of the non-existent