When Roman political theory was inaugurated by Cicero in the late 50s bc, the advent of monarchy at Rome, in the idiosyncratic form of Augustus’ ‘‘restoration of the republic’’ in 28-27 bc (Res Gestae 34.1), was still a generation away. This makes the political thought of this period critically important for our understanding of Roman theories of monarchy, because this thought was not yet conditioned by the presence of an actual monarch. But this valuable analytical window was shortlived. In fact, within a relatively brief period from the late 50s down to the early years of Augustus’ reign, we can trace an evolution in Roman approaches to monarchy, from the theoretical to the practical (see also Stadter, chapter 29). Before turning to the writings of the imperial age, then, it will be useful to consider this formative period in Roman thinking on monarchy, with special attention to three key texts: Cicero’s De republica, composed between 54 and 51 bc; his Pro Marcello, based on a short speech delivered to the senate in 46 bc; and the first book of Livy’s Ab urbe condita, completed between 27 and 25 BC.
The De republica, a philosophical dialogue in the Platonic mold, examined the relationship between the ideal commonwealth (res publica) and the ideal citizen (Zetzel 1995: 1-34). The first book centers on a discussion of the best commonwealth. When asked to declare which commonwealth is best, Scipio Aemilianus, the main character of the dialogue, chooses monarchy (Rep. 1.54-5). This choice has been the subject of much discussion, but it must be set in the context of Scipio’s overall argument. Scipio had already made it clear to his interlocutors that a mixed commonwealth was best (1.45), a view repeated at the end of book 1 and then underlined by the assertion that Rome’s mixed commonwealth is in fact the best of all (1.69-71; cf. Lintott 1997). In addition, in an important passage that precedes discussion of the different types of commonwealth, Scipio subordinates these individual types to their shared purpose, which is both to provide long-lasting consilium (‘‘deliberation’’) (1.41) and ‘‘to defend that bond which first bound men together in the association of a commonwealth’’ (1.42), a bond explained earlier as ‘‘consensus on the law’’ and ‘‘shared advantage’’ (1.39). For Scipio, then, monarchy is inferior to a mixed commonwealth and only ‘‘tolerable’’ (1.42) insofar as it preserves the implicit contract upon which organized society is based.
Scipio’s choice of monarchy is nevertheless significant, because it is ranked ahead of both aristocracy and democracy as the unmixed commonwealth best suited to preserving this contract. There are two main arguments in favor of monarchy in book 1. The first is that it is analogous to other types of legitimate unitary authority, including the sole rule of Jupiter over the other gods (1.56); the supremacy of reasoned judgment ( consilium) over anger, greed, ambition, and lust in men’s minds (1.60); and the authority of the paterfamilias over the rest of the household (1.61). The second is that individual leadership is more effective than communal leadership in times of emergency (1.62-3). Underpinning both arguments is the notion that a monarch’s legitimate authority depends on his administration of justice, without which monarchy degenerates into tyranny (1.65-8). Cicero then fleshes out these views on monarchy in book 2, in which he offers, still through the voice of Scipio, a historical overview of Rome’s regal period. Here we learn that the prerequisite for a legitimate monarch is not pedigree, as the Spartans mistakenly believed, but rather individual character, especially virtus (‘‘manliness, courage; virtue’’) and sapientia (‘‘wisdom’’) (2.24). And though the people lack libertas (‘‘freedom’’) under a monarchy, that form of rule is nevertheless superior to aristocracy and democracy as long as the monarch can maintain security, equality, and peace through his power, justice, and wisdom (2.43). Without these qualities, and especially without justice, the monarch becomes a tyrant (2.48). The figure most beneficial to the community is therefore the opposite of a tyrant, which the reader might reasonably expect to be a monarch. But through a type of dialectical reasoning, Cicero arrives at something rather different:
Let there be opposed to this man [the tyrant] another, who is good and wise and knowledgeable about the interests and the reputation of the state, almost a tutor and manager of the commonwealth [quasi tutor et procurator rei publicae]; that, in fact, is the name for whoever is the guide and helmsman of the state [rector etgubernator civitatis]. Make sure you recognize this man; he is the one who can protect the state by his wisdom [consilium] and efforts. (2.51; trans. Zetzel 1995)
The metaphorical language of the passage (signaled by quasi) makes simple identification with a conventional monarch untenable. In addition, it should be noted that Cicero elsewhere employs the terms rector and gubernator to identify the ideal republican statesman in contexts in which monarchy is out of the question ( De or.
1.211; Sest. 98). It is also unlikely that Cicero was inviting a political strongman, such as Pompey, to take control of the state, or that he was calling for the rise of a charismatic Fiihrer, as some Nazi propagandists of the 1930s claimed (Zetzel 1995: 27-9). Given the emphasis in book 1 on the superiority of the mixed constitution, and in light of Cicero’s own republican convictions, it is best to see this passage as a description of a traditional republican statesman (Powell 1994). After all, Cicero himself described the dialogue as an inquiry into the nature of the ‘‘best citizen’’ (optimus civis: QFr. 3.5.1). The De republica was not an argument for establishing monarchy at Rome.
With the Pro Marcello we come to a transformed political landscape and to a new stage in Cicero’s thinking on one-man rule. Frankly accepting that Caesar, on the cusp of total victory in the civil wars of 49-45 bc, was in a position to dominate the Roman world, Cicero attempts to channel this power in the interests of the community as a whole. He first praises Caesar for having pardoned his enemy M. Claudius Marcellus, and then invites him to undertake no less a task than the restoration of the entire commonwealth (esp. 27-9). Cicero bases his rhetorical strategy in part on a celebration of Caesar’s virtues, especially clementia (‘‘mercy’’) and sapientia (1, 9, 18-19), and in part on an extended appeal to Caesar’s desire for immortal glory, which will come not from his past military victories, shared, as they were, with Fortune and with the rank-and-file soldiers, but rather through his future restoration of the commonwealth, which Caesar alone can accomplish (7, 11, 28-9). It is a complex mix of praise, focused not on achievements but on character, and prescription (S. Braund 1998). For Cicero, then, the question was no longer what form the commonwealth should take - indeed, Caesar himself is closely identified with the commonwealth in several passages (21, 22, 25, 32) - but how the new form represented by Caesar’s dictatorship should operate. The generic requirements of the Pro Marcello and above all the political exigencies of the times explain this shift in perspective from that of the De republica.
We find a new perspective on monarchy in the first book of Livy’s Ab urbe condita (Ogilvie 1965: 30-232; Miles 1995: esp. 137-78). Written between 27 and 25 bc, just after Octavian’s assumption of the title Augustus and the so-called ‘‘first settlement’’ of his anomalous position in the state, book 1 treats Rome’s foundation and regal period, conventionally dated from 753 to 509 bc, from the perspective of one watching the reemergence of monarchy before his own eyes. In describing the investiture of Rome’s kings, Livy is always careful to specify the legitimate basis of their authority, which ultimately rested on the consent of the people (1.7.1-3,17-18; 22.1, 32.1, 35.6, 46.1). Only when Tarquinius Superbus acceded to the throne through a violent usurpation did ‘‘just and legitimate’’ kingship at Rome come to an end (1.47-8). Whether or not these details are accurate is beside the point. What is significant is Livy’s sensitivity to the question of the ‘‘constitutional’’ procedures by which Rome’s kings were (or were not) made legitimate, so typical of an age in which unrepublican powers were routinely defined in traditional, legal terms.
Even more important is Livy’s attitude to the relationship between constitutional form and popular libertas. In several passages in book 1 Livy alludes to the absence of libertas under the kings (1.17, 46, 48), despite the fact that legitimate accession to the throne depended upon the people’s will. Evidently the prerogative to choose a monarch did not constitute freedom, in Livy’s opinion. The opening lines of book 2 make this abundantly clear (2.1): ‘‘I will now write the history of a free Roman people and their annual magistrates, when the commands of the laws were stronger than those of men’’ (‘‘imperiaque legum potentiora quam hominum’’). Here Livy echoes Cicero’s views in the De republica on the incompatibility of monarchy and libertas (1.43.1, 47, 50.3, 55.2; 2.43.5); there is also a parallel with Cicero’s claim in the De officiis that when justice can no longer be secured from a single ruler, men turn to the protection of the laws (2.41-2; cf. Ferrary 1995). For Livy, then, libertas (freedom) was the right of ‘‘the people’’ (i. e. the citizen body) to choose annually elected officials whose authority was subject to the laws which the people themselves had promulgated. But Livy makes the additional point that the Roman people would not have been ready for libertas before the reign of Tarquinius Superbus, developing an evolutionary schema in which the monarchy is presented as necessary, at an early stage of development, both to preserve concord and to teach Romans to love their families and their land (2.1.4-6). Once the people had reached maturity in these things, monarchy was no longer necessary or desirable, and true freedom could begin with the annual election of consuls (2.1.7). In Livy’s eclectic treatment of monarchy, then, we find an emphasis on ‘‘constitutional’’ authority; an evolutionary model of society in which the monarchy plays a vital role in bringing about the republic by establishing the necessary conditions and attitudes in which republicanism could flourish (a point that Machiavelli would later highlight in his Discourses on Livy, 1.9, 1.11, 1.19 etc.); and the courageous suggestion that there can be no libertas under a monarchy, even one that is ‘‘just and legitimate.’’
In these three texts we have three sets of ideas on monarchy. Elements of the Pro Marcello and Livy book 1, both written under autocrats, stand as precursors to several characteristic features of political thought under the empire. The refrain of Caesar’s personal virtues in the Pro Marcello and the subtle blending of praise and prescription throughout the speech together provide the basic formula for later imperial panegyric. Livy’s projection onto the past of judgments about individual rulers and about monarchy as an institution prefigures much imperial historiography and biography, both of which, through their focus on the past, and especially on past emperors, can offer only oblique commentary on contemporary politics. And the valuation of individual libertas as an aristocratic ideal in opposition to autocracy becomes a major theme of political discourse in the early empire (Wirszubski 1950: esp. 12471; Roller 2001: 213-87; cf. Brunt 1988b for the republican background). It is no accident that of these three texts, it is Cicero’s De republica, written before the advent of monarchy, that does not have much formal influence on later political thought, which is mostly devoid of typological analyses of different constitutions. In one important respect, however, the De republica, as well as its companion piece from the late 50s, the De legibus, contains the roots of a simple idea that will flourish under the empire, and that is the fundamental distinction between individual monarchs and the institution of monarchy as such. As Cicero puts it in the De legibus, ‘‘the monarchic form of constitution, which was once approved, was repudiated afterwards, not because of the faults of monarchy, but because of the faults of the monarch’’ (3.15; cf. Rep. 2.43). A useful thought - for even though Cicero’s aristocratic heirs under the empire could not overthrow the Principate, they could still judge, and indeed repudiate, individual emperors.
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