Was Livy's first pentad a politically didactic text? What lessons did it teach? To answer these questions, Ann Vasaly positions Livy 1–5 among other ‘archaeologies’, those of Thucydides, Polybius, Sallust and, especially, Cicero's in De republica. V. asks further questions when Livy in his Preface refuses to deny or affirm the historicity of events before the city's foundation. ‘But as to these things and things similar to them (his similia), I shall place no importance on how they will be perceived and judged.’ What does Livy mean by his similia? What does the phrase include beyond the pre-foundation stories and the intervention of Mars? Arguing that Livy extends the chronological boundary between knowable and unknowable to the end of the first pentad (with reinforcement at 6.1.1–3), V. extends the reach of his similia equally. Livy 1–5, then, is an ‘archaeology writ large’ (10) in which ‘what really happened’ is not nearly as important as the transformation of particular stories into paradigmatic narratives that support an argument about the growth and maintenance of imperium.

Two tendencies manifest themselves throughout Books 1–5: towards tyranny on the part of the ruling class and towards discord on the people's part. (V. notes the synchrony of the death of Tarquinius Superbus and the consulship of the first Appius Claudius.) The saga showing the dangers to the plebeians of unchecked power reaches its high point in the second year of the decemvirate with Appius’ attempt on the pudicitia of Verginia. V. shows how Livy links Verginia's pudicitia to her libertas, a connection that makes it possible to make her libertas symbolize that of the Roman plebs. V. also shows how Livy uses the story's position to highlight its importance. Smack in the middle of Livy's longest book, the repetition of the decemvirate both expands Book 3 and reflects the pause in the march of consular years brought on by the actions of Appius (whom Verginia's father at one point calls a decemvir perpetuus). Rome needs men of strong character; but it equally needs checks on their power. The Quinctii, in contrast, serve as exemplars of good patricians. Their speeches create concord even as they give the people a clear picture of their failings. The story of Cincinnatus’ son Caeso, with its delayed revelation of the truth about the murder of which Caeso was accused, schools Livy's readers in the damaging effect of demagogic rhetoric by raising the same suspicions in them as Caeso's accusers did in the Roman people.

A strong élite will abuse those below them, with the result that discordia is necessary for restoring a balance. Indeed, the Roman people feel their way to mature libertas through acts of discordia. Emotional volatility seems to characterize the plebeians; but they are capable of great magnanimity as well, and their military victories attest to their courage. Left almost orphaned at Romulus’ death (a nice intertextual brush with De republica on 42), the plebeians evolve into a civitas capable of political generosity and magnanimity: given the chance to elect a mixture of patrician and plebeian consuls in 445 b.c., the people elect all patricians. They simply wanted to make a point. Concordia comes about through a freedom of choice, a unifying act of will in which the élite show generosity and fairness and the masses give loyalty, obedience and discipline. Books 1–5 contain many such acts of will.

The strengths of V.’s argument stem from her thorough knowledge of the structure of Books 1–5, especially the long and complicated third book; her ability to disentangle strands of narrative, then show how those strands enhance one another; her identification of important speeches, often by their placement; and her interpretation of their structure and style. Some expansion in the breadth of the discussion would be welcome, including more analysis of female figures, which appear to be indicators of archaeologies in that their presence both flags and explains the inexplicable. Although V. touches on this idea in regard to Lucretia and revolution, and in her discussion of Verginia, other female figures merit further analysis as instantiations of abstract concepts. V. might also have explored, at least briefly, how Livy's abstract ideas play out in subsequent books. For if, as Polybius says, Rome's constitution was most perfectly balanced at the beginning of the Second Punic War, then Livy's third decade offers a touchstone for testing the perfection of the res publica: Rome passes the test at the end of Book 22, when after the disaster at Cannae, the civitas was of such greatness of spirit (magno animo) that as the surviving consul, a demagogue and butcher's son, returned to Rome, he was met by all orders, ab omnibus ordinibus, and thanked for not giving up on the res publica.

That is to say, V.’s ideas are well worth pursuing. Her identification of the pentad as an ‘archaeology writ large’ and her interpretation of it as taking up Cicero's idea of studying the res publica through the prehistory of Rome, should convince many to reconsider Livy as a political thinker working through the medium of particular stories. (A few typos escaped or were produced by spellcheck: lector for lictor 60; belva for belua, 69; Polybus for Polybius, 27; promotors for promoters, 93; Crasus for Crassus, 130.)