The
Roman Revolution(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1939).
With the
publication of Ronald Syme’s The Roman
Revolution, the history of the late Roman Republic and the transition to
the Principate changed radically. Indeed, Syme sapped the basis of traditional
arguments: the transition from Republic to Principate would no longer be
dominated by the will of a few men, geniuses in their own right. Syme demoted
Sulla, Pompeius, Caesar, Octavianus and Antonius to the realm of subjects, to
an extent reactors to historical changes, rather than prime agents of change.
For Syme, these great protagonists hid from historians two fundamental truths.
The first is that behind any great regime, no matter the kind, there lurks in
the background, the agency of an oligarchy, acting for their families,
shuffling and reshuffling alliances so as to ensure their own successes.
Octavianus’[1]
revolution lay in his ability to masquerade his authority as part of the great
republican ideals, as working with these oligarchs for the restoration of their
privileges (p.2). The second prefigures the longue
durée: it is the accident of history. Death, old age, and civil war were as
much a part of the story as the agency of men.
Syme’s
articulated his greatest criticism of the history of the fall of the Roman
Republic as linked to historical sources. Indeed, through the accident of
history, the large majority of available documentation is loyal to the
principate. The single averse source, Caius Asinius Pollio, does not
survive. Sallust died before the
establishment of the principate, and Tacitus is a late source (p.4-6).
Contemporary sources were intimately tied to the regime. As Syme demonstrates,
Octavianus’ chief propagandist Maecenas had discovered Vergil and Horace. These
two major authors owed everything to the new regime of Octavianus. Their
patron, an equestrian, would not have risen through the ranks of the Republic,
undoubtedly blocked by the interests of the oligarchs.[2] Vergil and Horace themselves would have had
little prospects in the republic. Both were of obscure origins. Vergil was born
in Mantua, in Gallia Cisalpina, the son of a landowner, while Horace was the
son of a wealthy freedman from Apulia, who had fought on the side of Brutus and
Cassius at Philippi (p.252-254). Syme had already demonstrated the distaste of
the oligarchy for these new-comers, whether foreigners (and especially Gauls)
or equestrians in the senatorial reaction against Caesar (chapter 6). The Res Gestae Divi Augusti is of course
skewed and biased, and should not be used as a guiding thread in the historical
narrative of the time period (p.523). Syme tacitly, throughout the book,
asserts Dio’s claim that “the task of the historian has been aggravated beyond
all measure,” because “the great question of policy […] were now decided by a
few men” (p.407). The sources, then, were wholly unsatisfactory: they were
either skewed and unchecked by counter-narratives, or the mystery that shrouded
governmental decisions obstructed the ancient historian in his task to acquire
reliable information.
Syme
found his sources in the compilation and analysis of the lives of men in their
historical contexts, in prosopography. This method allowed for Syme to
reconstruct a history of the period, free from the biases of governmental
histories, which, as we have seen, were wholly inadequate for a reliable
history. Like Sallust, Syme begins his history of the fall of the Republic with
Sulla. Sulla’s power, Syme shows rested largely on an alliance with the
Caecilii Metelli. Indeed, Sulla had married a Metella, Q. Metellius Pius had
been a general of Sulla, and in 79 B.C., the two consuls P. Servilius Vatia and
Appius Claudius Pulcher were respectively son and husband of Metelli women. The
Claudii and the Porcii were the other two families that controlled the senate
(p.20-26), together with the more ancient Aemilii. For the next half-a-century, the names of the
families controlling the senate might change, but the concept remains. The
political scene of the Roman Republic was dominated by a group of people. It is
the nature and composition of that group that evolves.
The
composition of the senate under Pompeius was ostensibly the same as it had been
under Sulla. Pompeius, himself the son of a knight, was of recent nobility. The
accession of his family to the closed circle of consular families was largely
due to an alliance with the Scipiones in the second century B.C, that is, his
family was a client family, and their clientele was not based in Rome
(p.30-31). He acquired his authority via a series of military successes, first
as a member of Sulla’s party defeating the remaining supporters of Marius, and
then through an extraordinary tribunician command to defeat the Pirates. Still,
behind his achievements loomed the power of the Metelli and the Aemilii via
marriage. Caesar’s own meteoric rise came from an alliance initially with
Crassus, and subsequently with Pompeius.
These three men were able to exert influence over the politics of their
time through a tight control of the consulate, and key military successes. The
latter, though independent of the oligarchy, was crucial, as it gave the
“dynasts”-as Syme calls them- auctoritas
and the support of the army (chapter 3). Caesar’s senate was enlarged, but the
powerhouses remained, since, unlike Sulla, Caesar chose not to purge the Senate
of his enemies. The enlargement of the Senate to provincials from Gallia
Cisalpina and Italy did not abate the power of the Fabii, the Claudii, the
Cornelii, the Aemilii and the Servilii who retained control over the consulship
(Chapters 5-7).[3]
The
first major break in the composition of the Senate occurred after Second Civil
War, between the Triumvirs Octavianus, Antonius and Lepidus, and the
Liberators, Cassius and Brutus. Already
in 43 B.C., in the absence of the Liberators (who had fled), the senate
numbered a mere seventeen consulares (out of 900) (p.164). Because the Senate
naturally turned to these consular men for authority and guidance, not to
mention the administration of the wealthy provinces, the Senate appeared to
lack any major form of authority. Their dependence on the major families, was
further felt since some of the major players, Lucius Munatius Plancus, M.
Aemilius Lepidus and C. Asinus Pollio, were either too far to be relevant, or
to intelligent to play the game, and preferred to wait before choosing an
allegiance. In other words, the first civil war had decimated the Senate, and
deprived it of leadership (Chapter 12). This breach becomes more evident in
buildup of the conflict between Antonius and Octavianus, and the subsequent
victory of Octavianus.[4] The
purges promulgated immediately before and continued after Philippi further
exacerbated the Senate’s depletion of consulares. Cicero’s death in 43 B.C. was
just a footnote in Syme’s narrative. Though Antonius emerged as the victor, the
defeat of his partisans at Perusia, and his absence from Rome allowed
Octavianus to replenish the Senate, much in the same way Caesar had, building
on a coalition of men from obscure backgrounds but with great abilities
(Agrippa, Maecenas), and the old families (chapter 17). The Galatian proconsuls
during the early Principate show a clever mix of members of the old oligarchy
and new men (chapter 26). Likewise, the party of Tiberius was composed of both
“old” houses and new men, all of whom were either too young to owe much of
their position to Augustus, or who had a vested interest in pursuing old
familial glory (chapter 28).
Syme’s
greatest tour de force lays in his subtle comparison between discourse and
prosopography, especially in the later chapters of the book. Indeed, Augustus’
position rested on a careful rhetoric that masked the larger revolution. If
Caesar had renewed the Senate with rebel rousers from Gaul, and opened
positions to the equestrians, and shamelessly restored the Marian party, when
the Senators themselves were largely from the Sullan party (Chapters 5-6),
Augustus carefully crafted a discourse around the continuity of the old
republican order. The “settlement of 23 B.C.” Syme argues, buried the Republic,
but was clouded by discourses of continuity. Augustus had almost died, and
relinquished the consulate, and was replaced by L. Sestius, once a republican,
now a devout servant to the state. In
exchange, Augustus obtained proconsular imperium over the Empire, and he began
to exercise the powers of the tribune (as opposed to simply holding them).[5] The
Senate had willingly given up: by removing the consular ornaments from the
titulature of Augustus, the Senate had effectively removed itself from the
basis of power of Augustus. Indeed, Syme argues, “the new settlement” set up the two pillars
on top of which the regime is based: the army (proconsular imperium) and the
people (tribunicia potestas). In other words, Augustus had shown deference towards
the senate and liberated its most prestigious office, all the while entrenching
his position beyond the reach of the powerful, opportunistic familial dynasties
that had plagued the end of the Republic (chapter 23).
In terms of
control of discourse, Augustus was able to use patronage to his advantage: the
men that he placed in positions of power had effectively become his clients.
Some men, like for instance, Agrippa, had also acquired tremendous wealth from
their service with Augustus. In the rebuilding program of Rome by his clients,
Syme argues, Augustus had become omnipresent in the empire. Then, by securing
advancements for the members of his party, Augustus was able to control the
system he had created (chapter 25). Thus, Syme’s demagogue, through a careful manipulation
of rhetoric and the accidents of history (war, death, and old age) was able to
replace the old oligarchy with his own, thus establishing a monarchy and ending
the Roman Revolution.
The
criticism of such a text is tricky. Firstly, Syme’s arguments have permeated
any lecture on the Roman Republic, and in this way, have become somewhat
canonical. Secondly, the benefits of the anthropological concept of cultural relativism, which tempered the
way historians analyzed discourse, did not emerge until the 1970’s. One can
hardly fault Syme on that ground.
Still,
one can see a limit to prosopography as displayed in Syme’s work. The purpose
of the Roman Revolution was to
completely reevaluate the discourse previous generations had crafted. Extreme
views could and should be adopted. The heroes (Cicero, Caesar, Pompeius) have
become, at the very least, shameless promoters. In the case of Cicero, Syme
overplays his hand. It is true that Cicero was not consistent in his
affiliations. He had opposed Pompei, but fought for him against Caesar (chapter
3); he had initially turned a blind eye to Octavianus, before pushing him
forward as the savior of the Republic, even giving Octavianus’ illegal army of
veterans Senatorial clearance and legality (chapter 10). The speeches are a
special target of Syme, who shows that, from a philological perspective, Cicero
was exceedingly vague, using words devoid of political sense. Indeed, the libertas of the Roman people carried no
real actual significance (p.152-153). For Syme, Cicero was attached primarily
to his own advancement (p.139). The argument is dangerous. That the words used
in Cicero lacked precise meaning is not uncommon in general political
discourses, and Cicero still shows remarkable consistency in choosing a side
that would, in the end, help the salvation of the Republic. Was Octavianus the
most dangerous threat to the Republic? Objectively, Antonius’ power base
resembled Caesar’s. His authority was extensive (Gaul), and his army powerful.
He also, in 43 had placed Hirtius and Pansa as consuls, probably because of
their lack of auctoritas (p.149).
Octavianus’ army was small in comparison, and only coupled with D. Brutus could
Octavianus really pose a threat to Antonius. Is it a stretch to see Cicero as
genuinely concerned, as seeing Octavianus as a little threat that could be
controlled? In other words, perhaps Cicero’s loyalties did indeed lie with the
Republic that he so desperately wished to save, and that his alliances reflect
a genuine belief in the person who would save the republic.
Prosopography,
as displayed in the Roman Republic, really acts as a check on available
sources. Like other non-literary checks, archaeology for instance, one runs the
risk of transforming one type of source as a slave to the other. Syme wants his
Cicero to be an opportunistic demagogue, therefore, he becomes one. His
alliances seem to reflect a lack of consistency, so too should his speeches.
Still, Syme’s work provided a complete reevaluation of a historical discourse
that had become canonical. Syme’s analysis shattered the field, and his
methodology has allowed for an objective use of information contained in the
sources.
[1]
For the sake of clarity, Octavianus will remain Octavianus until the discussion
of the principate.
[2]
On the context for the rise of Maecenas and other kings, see p.235-238, chapter
18; on the politics of the oligarchs, see specifically chapter 2, where Syme
exposes the machinations of the large families, especially the Metelli.
[3]
Syme’s appendix is tremendously useful for corroborating his evidence.
[4]
Syme struggles with this victory, since, as he demonstrated in chapters 7-9,
Antonius clearly had the upper hand.
[5]
From then on, Augustus would date his years from the acquisition of the tribunicia potestas.
No comments:
Post a Comment