The
Roman Monarchy
Introduction:
I
summarized for you briefly last time the many ways
in which the study of Roman history is important to historians with a
wide
variety of interests in a great many fields.
I hope I made it clear that one of the most important reasons
Roman
history is so important is that, in many ways, the history of Rome is
much like
our own American history. Like the
United States, Rome started as a relatively insignificant power, but
grew
quickly into a force to be reckoned with, a major world power. Also like America, Rome started as one of the
most moral and idealistic societies of the face of the earth. And, like America, Rome was a vast melting
pot, combining elements from a variety of cultures.
Both in political and social terms,
developments and problems in ancient Rome parallel developments and
problems in
American history—sometimes in an uncanny way.
Figuring out what went right and what went wrong in Roman
history, then,
is sometimes vitally important for the light it sheds on our own
situation—and,
perhaps, as a consolation for the troubles of our own age.
As Livy says, “The study of history is the
best medicine for a sick mind: for in history you have a record of the
infinite
variety of human experience plainly set out for all to see: and in that
record
you can find for yourself and your country both examples and warnings:
fine
things to take as models, base things, rotten through and through, to
avoid.”
Particularly
when it comes to political issues, Rome
has much to teach us. Through much of
their history, the Romans, like Americans, were a self-governing people. But, like America, and unlike Athens, Rome
was not a direct democracy. The Romans maintained a republic, electing
leaders
who were answerable to the people as a whole.
Can
such a government last for long? Much of
world history suggests that it
cannot. Democratic and republican
governments tended to be short-lived in Sumer, Greece, and in
Renaissance
Italy. And in the 20th
century, many European democracies succumbed to the temptation of
totalitarian
rule. 17th century French
bishop Jacques Bossuet argued that monarchy was the most natural,
ancient, and
common form of government—and that’s certainly true.
But is it possible to make non-autocratic
government work? Ancient Rome is the
best example showing that it can.
For
hundred years (during the period of the Roman
Republic) the Roman people ruled themselves—and ruled themselves well. Their success in turning the Mediterranean
into a Roman lake—Mare Nostrum, our sea—show just how well they made
Republican
government effective. So what was it
that the Romans were doing right? And where did they start going wrong?
For the first third of our course, these
are
going to be our major themes. But before we get to Republican period,
the time
in which Rome becomes a major player in the Mediterranean, we’ll look
first at
the earliest roots of Roman history.
By
the way, it’s worth having an overall “big
picture” sense of Roman history in terms of the varying governmental
systems
dominating Rome.
·
The
Roman Monarchy (753-509 BC)
·
The
Early Republic (509-133 BC)
·
The
Roman Revolution (133-31 BC)
·
The
Roman Empire (31 BC—AD 476/AD 1453!)
Well,
let’s start, as much as we can, at the very
beginning—a very good place to start—with the earliest phase of Roman
history,
the Roman monarchy. Unfortunately, only
a very little can be said with any certainty about this period of Roman
history. Still, the stories we have of
this period, even if not historically accurate, are exceptionally
important in
helping us to understand subsequent history.
One
of the major difficulties with this period of
history is that it was a long, long time before anyone attempted to
deal with
it. The first attempts at Roman history
didn’t come until the time of the Greek historian Polybius (c. 150 BC),
and
Polybius felt it irresponsible to write about events when he couldn’t
directly
talk to witnesses. Under Greek
influence, the Romans did at last begin to write histories of their
own, and by
the time of Augustus, Livy speaks of many writers who had tried to
write on
Roman history. But this was an awfully
late time to get started, and Livy’s introduction makes clear how hard
the task
was:
Whether
the task I have
undertaken of writing a complete history of the Roman people from the
very
commencement of its existence will reward me for the labour spent on
it, I
neither know for certain, nor if I did know would I venture to say. For
I see
that this is an old-established and a common practice, each fresh
writer being
invariably persuaded that he will either attain greater certainty in
the
materials of his narrative, or surpass the rudeness of antiquity in the
excellence of his style. However this may be, it will still be a great
satisfaction to me to have taken my part, too, in investing, to the
utmost of
my abilities, the annals of the foremost nation in the world with a
deeper
interest; and if in such a crowd of writers my own reputation is thrown
into
the shade, I would console myself with the renown and greatness of
those who
eclipse my fame. The subject, moreover, is one that demands immense
labour. It
goes back beyond 700 years and, after starting from small and humble
beginnings, has grown to such dimensions that it begins to be
overburdened by
its greatness. I have very little doubt, too, that for the majority of
my
readers the earliest times and those immediately succeeding, will
possess
little attraction; they will hurry on to these modern days in which the
might
of a long paramount nation is wasting by internal decay. I, on the
other hand,
shall look for a further reward of my labours in being able to close my
eyes to
the evils which our generation has witnessed for so many years; so
long, at
least, as I am devoting all my thoughts to retracing those pristine
records,
free from all the anxiety which can disturb the historian of his own
times even
if it cannot warp him from the truth.
The
traditions of what
happened prior to the foundation of the City or whilst it was being
built, are
more fitted to adorn the creations of the poet than the authentic
records of
the historian, and I have no intention of establishing either their
truth or
their falsehood. This much license is conceded to the ancients, that by
intermingling human actions with divine they may confer a more august
dignity
on the origins of states. Now, if any nation ought to be allowed to
claim a
sacred origin and point back to a divine paternity that nation is Rome.
For
such is her renown in war that when she chooses to represent Mars as
her own
and her founder's father, the nations of the world accept the statement
with
the same equanimity with which they accept her dominion. But whatever
opinions
may be formed or criticisms passed upon these and similar traditions, I
regard
them as of small importance. The subjects to which I would ask each of
my
readers to devote his earnest attention are these-the life and morals
of the
community; the men and the qualities by which through domestic policy
and
foreign war dominion was won and extended. Then as the standard of
morality
gradually lowers, let him follow the decay of the national character,
observing
how at first it slowly sinks, then slips downward more and more
rapidly, and
finally begins to plunge into headlong ruin, until he reaches these
days, in
which we can bear neither our diseases nor their remedies.
Well,
as Plutarch says, time to ask the indulgence
of those who can bear with patience the legends of the past.
The
story, as the Romans told it, was something like
this….
The
great Trojan hero Aeneas escapes from the
burning Troy with his father Anchises on his shoulder.
He travels around the Mediterranean, and
seems to land on his feet when the beautiful Carthaginian queen Dido
falls in
love with him. But, his destiny lying in
another direction, Aeneas abandons Dido and makes his way to Latium.
There
he eventually marries Lavinia, daughter of the
king Latinus, and his descendants become kings of Alba Longa. Among this long line of kings, Proca who has
two sons, Amulius and Numitor. Numitor
is the elder and the abler, but Amulius usurps the throne and kills
Numitor’s
sons. He honors Numitor’s
daughter (Rhea Silvia), by making her a
vestal virgin. This, of course, means no
descendants for Numitor. But Rhea Silvia
gets pregnant anyway—raped by the god Mars supposedly.
Amulius
orders Rhea Silvia imprisoned, and her twin
boys are to be thrown in the river.
Well, the commands are carried out, but, since the Tiber was at
flood stage,
it wasn’t possible to get to the main channel, and so the boys were
abandoned
where they weren’t necessarily going to drown.
Sure enough, they were discovered by a she-wolf who nursed them
as if
they were her own.
Later,
Romulus and Remus end up adopted into a
shepherd’s family, and, when they grow up, discover a nice way to
supplement
the family income. They waylay robbers
and take from those robbers their ill-gotten gains.
The real robbers try to turn the tables on
them, and the brothers end up accused of plundering Numitor’s estates. Amulius captures one brother, and turns him
over to Numitor for punishment. Numitor
puts two and two together, and figures out that the boys are his
supposedly
dead grandsons. The three now plot the
overthrow of Amulius, and Numitor is restored to his rightful place on
the
throne of Alba Longa.
Romulus
and Remus go on to establish a new city of
their own, attracting lots of energetic, ambitious young men who (for
one
reason or another) needed to get a fresh start. The city begins
(translating
Roman dates to our own calendar) on April 2, 753 BC. But there’s
trouble. Who will rule the new city? Romulus and Remus agree to look to the
heavens for a sign. Remus sees 6
eagles. Romulus 12. Remus’
sign is first, Romulus’ sign is
greater. Dispute unsettled, and,
eventually, the brothers fight it out.
One story is that Romulus was building the city walls, and Remus
made
fun of the project by leaping over them.
So Romulus killed him, saying that’s what happens to anyone who
dare
attack the walls of his city.
But
it looks like the city Romulus is establishing
isn’t going to last very long: no women, and therefore, no children. Neighboring cities aren’t willing to
establish marital connections with the men of this upstart city.
A
stratagem.
The Romans invite neighbors to tour Rome and see all the
wonderful
things they’ve built. Among the
visitors, the Sabines. At a signal, the
Romans seize all the eligible young women who the Sabines have brought
along. Without weapons, the girls
fathers can do nothing right away, but they begin plans for attack.
Somehow,
the Romans cajole the captive women to be
content with their new situation, and, when the Sabine attack begins in
earnest, they’re got in a dilemma. The
Sabines attack, and a young women named Tarpeia promises to help them
for “what
they have on their left arms,” e.g. gold bracelets.
Instead, they throw shields on her!
Anyway,
as the fighting begins to really get going,
the Sabine women throw themselves between the two sets of combatants,
pleading
them to make peace—which they do.
The
city grows, but tension grows too, with many of
the more privileged people disgruntled with Romulus, a protector of the
less
privileged. One stormy night, Romulus disappears. Murdered? No…he’s become a god!
But
what now?
Will the elite take over? Will
there be a strong king? Well, for a
time, kings for the most part prevail.
The
2nd king is Numa, who establishes
laws—mostly religious laws, laws that relate closely to politics as
well.
The
3rd king in Tullus Hostillius—who, as
you can probably guess from the name, makes his mark as a military man.
The
chief opponent: Alba Longa, the original home of Romulus and Remus. The two sides try to settle there dispute
initially in trial by combat (the Horatii vs. the Curiati), but that
doesn’t
work (though it gives us a great story), and, eventually Alba Longa is
destroyed with the survivors being absorbed by Rome.
The
4th king, Ancus Marcius, combines the
best of Tullus and the best of Numa. A
law-giver
and also a fighting king, he makes Rome larger, better organized, and
more
successful than ever.
But
there was a problem. Hereditary succession
wasn’t an established
principal, and though Marcius’ sons thought they should succeed him,
the
kingship went instead to Tarquin the Elder—a man of Etruscan background.
Tarquin
was succeeded, not directly by his sons, but
by Servius Tullius. Dynastic marriage
strengthened the tie: Tarquin’s sons married Servius’ daughters. But there was a mismatch here.
The ambitious son (Tarquin the Proud) was
married to the less ambitious daughter, the less ambitious son to the
more
ambitious daughter. The ambitious ones
conspire to murder their spouses and Servius—and Tarquin takes the
throne.
Not
necessarily a bad thing for Rome, but power
corrupts, and dynastic squabbles tend to create trouble.
When Tarquin’s son rapes Lucretia, wife of
Collatinus, that’s the last straw.
Collatinus and Brutus drive out the Tarquins.
Not
quite the end.
With the help of the Etruscan Lars Porsenna, the Tarquins try a
come-back. But Rome gets some heroes.
Gaius Mucius Scavola. Horatius. Cloelia.
Famous
stories, and exciting stories: but how much
of this can be believed? If you asked 19th
century scholars, none at all. 19th
century scholarship was enormously skeptical about everything ancient
writers
told us. The questioned Herodotus, Livy,
the Old and New Testaments, Suetonius, Tacitus, and the rest. But as
archaeology developed in the late 19th century and in the 20th
century, the evidence showed that many ancient writers were a lot more
reliable
than the skeptics had thought.
The
textbook consensus suggests that the general
picture Livy give can be confirmed by archaeology:
·
The
8th century start for Rome is about right.
·
There
does seem to be a mix of Sabine and Latin influence
·
Etruscan
influence is likewise clear
·
The
names are probably historical
·
The
expulsion of the kings is plausible
Archaeological
evidence can’t confirm the details of
the stories, and the Etruscan evidence is very hard to interpret. But, even so, the stories are important for
showing us Roman values at a later time.
We see emphasis on honor, chastity, patriotism, and respect for
law. We see hostility to kingship, and a
strong religious bent.
The
stories also inspire much post-Roman work. Artists
and writers from Shakespeare to
Thomas Babington MacCauley to Jacque Louis David use the stories in
their
works. And then there are the wonderful
(!)
sword and sandal movies like Hero of Rome based on the stories. Watch
closely,
and you’ll see the echoes of these stories again and again…and
sometimes in
unexpected places.