which no one today can do, is often ignored. So too is the fact that no ←8 | 9→Roman funeral speech survives; moreover, the evidence for them that does exist is frequently played down or just passed over.24 Also played down is the fact that the extant evidence for the names of magistrates comes mostly from works from the first century bc, and that the nature and content (and even the existence) of lists of such names in the second, third, fourth and fifth centuries bc are unknown. As if that were not enough, Livy’s assessment of Macer’s work has been rejected on the basis of what Livy himself had to say about it, as if Livy were incapable of assessing the work properly and also so incompetent as to reveal that fact.25 As for Antias, if he had indeed done all that research, why should he have also used sources that were patently unreliable? Why does Livy criticise specifically him and not those sources or his use of them? And does it ultimately make any difference, whether Antias or his sources were to blame for the problems that Livy encountered? But there is simply no evidence to support the claim that Antias conducted research in the Senate’s archives anyway.26
As for the idea that distortion and fabrication were impossible, because everyone knew what had really happened, not only is that evidence of a certain determination to believe in the historicity of the literary evidence no matter what, but it is also evidence of wilful blindness to a substantial body of evidence to the contrary (ancient Rome would need to be somehow unique in human history).27 Besides, arguments of this kind potentially result in a paradox: if Rome’s historians could not distort, misrepresent ←9 | 10→or lie about what everyone knew to be true, then Livy’s comments about the works of Antias and Macer would have to be untrue; but Livy was an historian too and his comments can hardly be dismissed as mistakes or accidents, or as unimportant. The position of the optimists often seems, in the end, ultimately to be based not only on a refusal to see the wood for the trees, but also on the belief that each individual tree should be chopped down, using one means or another as required in each instance, so that the wood does not even exist.
The combination of sometimes extraordinary confidence in the historicity of the literary evidence, a growing body of archaeological evidence for early Rome and the belief that that evidence can be interpreted with reference to the literary evidence (which it is supposed, in an entirely circular way, to verify) has had predictable enough consequences. Those who work on the literary evidence for early Rome may well now find themselves confronted with the expectation that they should advance a positive thesis about the history of early Rome, even when the case they are making involves a deeply sceptical assessment of that evidence. They may also find that they are now expected to incorporate the archaeological evidence into their discussion as a matter of course, even when the discussion is concerned with issues to which the archaeological evidence cannot actually contribute. (As it happens, the limits of the archaeological evidence can be easily discerned in certain recent work on early Rome, in which that evidence is quickly left behind in favour of the literary evidence, even in the work of those who declare themselves to be archaeologists.)28
When the arguments in defence of the reliability of the literary evidence for early Rome are as unpersuasive as they generally are, and when the underlying will to believe in the historicity of the evidence is so readily apparent, there is every reason to dismiss the optimistic assessment and simply accept what ancient authors have to say about the lack of material from early times and about the problems in the material that was available ←10 | 11→to them. The results of such an approach need not just be negative. What the Romans said about the origins and early history of Rome may reveal little about Rome’s actual origins and early history, but it does have the potential to shed light on all manner of other issues; and while those issues may have little to do with archaic Rome, they may reveal something about later circumstances. It may well be that the study of Rome’s earliest history is just as much, indeed probably even more so, the study of the ideas, views and thinking of later times.
The quote that appears at the start of this introduction (namely that, ‘For early Rome, historiographic study must precede historical’) was originally used as the epigraph for the essay that forms Chapter 5 of this book. Since the observation is pertinent to the work as a whole, it made sense to put it at the very beginning. Not only does it remain as valid as ever but, given certain recent trends and developments, it may be that it is in need of some emphasis. The extant literary evidence for early Rome comes mostly from the late first century bc, and what is found in the works of Livy, Dionysius and the rest is the outcome of centuries of story-telling and several generations of the writing not just of history but clearly also of pseudo-history. It is the outcome of research of various kinds involving material of differing nature and value, but also of learned conjecture, speculation and invention, whether simply of a plausible nature, for entertainment’s sake or for more partisan purposes. These circumstances also explain why the archaeological evidence cannot simply be used to verify Roman accounts of the past. To pick only one simple and obvious problem: how is it possible to distinguish between a reliable account of some early monument and a plausible-sounding story invented outright in later times to explain that monument?
* *
One of the main themes of this book is the development of the Roman state and its system of government (which, if only for convenience, will sometimes be referred to simply as the constitution). It will be useful therefore to summarise the Roman account very briefly, as it is found in the extant sources.
The Romans came to believe that Rome had been founded, that is to say, that their city and state had been created at one moment in time ←11 | 12→and by one individual. That moment was calculated to be sometime in the mid-eighth century and the individual was usually said to have been Romulus, although there were other dates and other candidates.29 After it had been founded, Rome was subsequently ruled by a series of kings, most of whom were effectively elected to office and each of whom was said to have contributed in some way to Rome’s development. When the last of those kings, L. Tarquinius Superbus, proved to be an abusive tyrant, the Romans expelled him and decided to do away with their monarchy. The kings were immediately replaced with two annually elected magistrates called consuls. Unlike the kings, who had ruled for life, the consuls were in office for only a year and, unlike the kings who had ruled alone (a brief period of co-regency during Romulus’ reign aside), the two consuls shared their power. The consulship, with its collegiality and limited tenure of office, became synonymous with the free Republic.
Much of this has long been accepted as broadly historical and much of it, at least at first sight, may seem plausible enough. More confidence has generally been placed in the evidence for later events than earlier, although there are some who would accept almost the entire account largely as it stands. On closer inspection, however, there is much that is problematic. The view that cities were founded was prevalent in antiquity, but it is hardly historical in Rome’s case and there is an abundance of evidence to show this (see Chapter 1 in particular). The idea that each of Rome’s kings contributed to Rome’s development certainly has some semblance of historical reality, but it does not follow from that that the Roman account is therefore historical. One obvious and significant problem is that, while the regal period supposedly lasted for some 250 years, there were in total just seven kings, and that is simply absurd. Several of those kings are quite clearly unhistorical too. The whole account looks to be an artificial reconstruction, and that assessment is further supported by the quite distinctive nature of the depiction of some of the kings.30 Rome’s development was, moreover, so closely tied to those seven kings that it was possible for the Romans to conceive of them as a series of founders. And when that idea gets used in turn to argue that Rome was superior
