Ancient history begins and ends with the ancient evidence. The evidence represents not only the foundation of the discipline, but the material out of which any argument must be built, and it is not possible to go further than it allows. This is part of the reason why the nature and value of the evidence for early Rome have long been, and remain, matters of considerable and sometimes contentious debate. The best evidence, simply because it is contemporary, is arguably the archaeological, but the sorts of questions that archaeological evidence can answer are often of little help when it comes to matters such as the politics and political structures of early Rome, which are the focus of this collection. For such matters, it is still necessary to work with the literary evidence. However, since the historical value of the literary evidence is so hotly contested, the uses to which that evidence is put and the conclusions that are drawn from it inevitably vary considerably. Despite more than a century of research, there is still nothing even remotely resembling a consensus on how the literary sources should best be handled. This paper explores some of the problems with the evidence for early Rome, considers something of the limits and uses of that evidence, as well as introduces the contributions that make up this collection of studies on power and politics in early Rome.

This study employs a comparative approach using Greek models of historical enquiry, especially those of Herodotus, to illustrate how Romans prior to the Punic Wars, and indeed as early as the fifth and fourth centuries BC, might have developed their own historical consciousness and historical traditions concerning their early past in much the same way as we know the Greeks had done by the fifth century BC. What follows is not at all new. Many have identified Roman historical and historiographical roots, connections, and even parallels with Greek history and historians.1 What follows reiterates those connections, explicitly by assessing how Herodotus presented his inquiries to his Greek audience, laying the foundations for the discipline of historia, and then by examining specifically the story of the Fabii at the Cremera in Livy, Dionysius and Diodorus. Through this one historical example, I hope to show that the roots of genuine historical thought can be found in the sources of our sources for early Roman traditions. Despite the fact that these traditions appear in works written much later than the events they describe, the nature of the stories preserved in our extant accounts suggests similar historiographical roots and interest as those preserved by Herodotus for the Greeks in the stories he told in his Histories.

A dominant and fascinating figure at the very beginning of the Republic is Porsenna, king of Clusium. He has been a focus of attention since the Renaissance and for the following seven centuries. Fashions in interpretation have come and gone. This essay surveys those interpretations, and attempts to sum up the complexities of contemporary scholarship.

Whether the result of internal revolution or external factors, in the late sixth century BC Rome underwent regime change. A king, or at least a sole ruler of some sort, was replaced by a governmental system in which power was distributed amongst a wider aristocratic group. Just what that elite group comprised at that point in time remains open to question, and the institutional reality is certainly more complicated than the simple shift from monarchy to consulship portrayed in the later literary sources;1 but as part of that change, according to Roman tradition, a priesthood was instituted to perform the deposed king’s sacred duties. This priesthood provides us with an opportunity to reappraise the role of religion in the development of the Roman state, and a useful locus from which to assess changes in religious and political power in the transition from monarchy to Republic at Rome.

While the general absence of Rome’s nobility from the traditions of the regal period has often been noted, the nobility’s prompt appearance at the beginning of the republican period has elicited little comment. This paper argues that the nobility’s appearance is more significant than its earlier absence, precisely on account of its very promptness and also because the nobility appears primarily with the consulship. Given the special importance that the consulship later came to have, following the emergence of Rome’s office-holding nobility, these circumstances inevitably raise questions about the value of the early consular fasti, and indeed even about the whole premise on which the early fasti are based, namely that the consulship was established immediately after the expulsion of the kings. It is argued here that this premise is anachronistic, and that the early consular fasti are unreliable and often tendentious; it is further argued that this premise is also responsible for some of the confusion surrounding the mysterious consular tribunate. The consular tribunate was a magistracy about which ancient writers quite clearly knew very little, and their ignorance and the inconsistencies in what they had to say about the tribunate inevitably undermine their claim to possess better and more detailed information about earlier times.

Many modern scholars have argued that the consulship was not created at the foundation of the Republic as Roman tradition maintained, and that the government of the early Republic went through several stages of development before it reached the familiar ‘classical constitution.’ Building on this work, this article considers what the early civilian government of Rome may have looked like. It is argued that the Romans did not create an entirely new government (based on consuls) following the removal of the monarchy, but instead made use of existing sources of power and authority: rich land-owning clans dominated military activity outside the city, while priests, the curiae, and minor officials exercised responsibilities of civilian governance in Rome. The plebeian tribunate was probably the first significant office to be created in the Republic, and the unusual nature of its power (sacrosanctity) and the absence of any other chief magistracy enabled the tribunes to acquire a broad range of prerogatives. A series of reforms eventually led to the development of the familiar ‘classical constitution’, and the consulship and praetorship became the most prestigious and desired magistracies (and—outside the city—the most powerful), but the tribunes long retained the broadest prerogatives for civilian governance inside the city.

A tension exists within the literary sources for early Rome, between the supposedly static nature of military authority, embodied by the grant of imperium which was allegedly shared both by archaic reges and republican magistrates, and the evidence for change within Rome’s military hierarchy, with the early republican army being commanded by a succession of different magistrates including the archaic praetores, the so-called ‘consular tribunes,’ and the finally the consuls and praetors of the mid-fourth century BC. The differences between the magistracies and the motivations driving the evolution of the system have caused confusion for both ancient and modern writers alike, with the usual debate being focused on the number of officials involved under each system and Rome’s expanding military and bureaucratic needs. The present study will argue that, far more than just varying in number, when viewed against the wider backdrop of Roman society during the period, the sources hint that the archaic praetores and consular tribunes might have exercised slightly different types of military authority – possibly distinguished by the designations imperium and potestas – which were unified under the office of the consulship of 367 BC.1 The changes in Rome’s military hierarchy during the fifth and fourth centuries BC may therefore not only indicate an expansion of Rome’s military command, as is usually argued, but also an evolution of military authority within Rome associated with the movement of power from the comitia curiata to the comitia centuriata.

One consequence of the globalisation of the modern world in recent years has been to focus historical interest on human migration and movement. Sociologists and historians have argued that mobility is much more characteristic of past historical eras than we might expect given our modern nationalistic perspectives. This paper aims to contribute to this subject by surveying some of the evidence for mobility in central Italy and by examining its implications for early Rome. I will focus primarily on the plebeian movement, which is normally seen in terms of an internal political dispute. Our understanding of the ‘Struggle of the Orders’ is conditioned by the idealising view of our literary sources, which look back on the early Republic from a period when the plebeians provided many of the key members of the nobility. However, if we see the plebeian movement in its contemporary central Italian context, it emerges as much more threatening and potentially subversive. The key plebeian tactic – secession from the state – is often regarded as little more than a military strike. Instead, I argue that it was a genuine threat to abandon the community, and secessions can be seen as ‘paused migrations’. This paper also considers two other episodes that support this picture, the migration to Rome of Attus Clausus and the Claudian gens and the proposed move to Veii by the plebs.

This paper attempts to gauge the ability of the gens to influence the affairs of its members by tracing the development of the rules governing intestate inheritance. It will argue that, although the power of the gens in this area of the law did eventually give way to a more centralised and stronger state, a development which has been documented in other areas of Roman society as well, the gens was nonetheless able to continue to exert an influence on its members for some considerable time. The present study will analyse several cases to argue this point and examine both the means by which this centuries-long change took place, as well as highlight a period that witnessed a potential acceleration of the trend away from gentilicial importance. Finally, it will return to the circumstances of early Rome, the focal point for this volume, and offer some cautionary notes for thinking about the period that was in many ways the starting point for these developments.

In the Latin Settlement, which was supposedly initiated in 338 BC, Rome organised many of the incorporated communities into either the civitas or civitas sine suffragio. Livy, and those scholars who have accepted his explanation, claim that the use of these two types of citizenship was influenced by the political and military circumstances of each community’s incorporation. Such an argument posits that Rome judged each community on the basis of its past behaviour and ‘rewarded’ or ‘punished’ it accordingly, using these different forms of citizenship. However, Livy’s anachronistic and inconsistent approach to the Roman franchise undermines this explanation – at least in its simplest form. This paper highlights the inconsistencies in Livy’s account of the Latin Settlement and offers an alternative explanation for the differing grants of citizenship. It is argued that the pre-existing languages and cultures of the different communities need to be taken into account, as does the legal significance of the use of Latin at Rome. In sum, this paper argues that the decision to incorporate a community as a civitas or as a civitas sine suffragio was not straightforwardly based on the political or military circumstances of each community’s incorporation, but also (or rather) involved the recognition of cultural and linguistic differences in each community and the consequent practicalities of the inclusion of each in Rome’s legal and political apparatus.

This article examines the origins of the Roman alliance system in the second half of the 4th century. The significance of the allies for the creation of a Mediterranean empire is undisputed; allied troops provided the Roman Republic with a manpower reservoir unmatched by any of its opponents. However, the stunning achievement of incorporating defeated foes into the military in equal numbers to Roman troops has been somewhat neglected and been taken as a given fact. A careful analysis of the years following the Latin War and the Samnite Wars reveals a constellation which does not suggest that the immediate creation of a more or less beneficial system of alliances was a primary Roman objective. Instead it will be argued that the evidence indicates a rather different development, where the challenge of organising and integrating the captured territory was a dynamic and at times arduous process, for which the setbacks – and indeed the crisis – of the so-called Second Samnite War served as a major catalyst.

This essay seeks to establish the parameters of our uncertainty concerning one of the most difficult periods of Roman history, the period between the traditional end of the Roman monarchy and the passing of the Licinio-Sextian legislation. In addition to some methodological observations, the essay attempts to offer a model for understanding Roman choices and decisions in a period of change and transformation.