By the late fourth century AD, the Roman Senate – once the ruling heart of the Republic, the arena of Cicero’s thunderous orations and the crucible of Caesar’s ambition – had become a shadow of its former self. And yet, it still existed. In 390 AD, amidst a fractured empire and encroaching barbarian frontiers, the Senate of Rome remained an institution with continuity stretching back to the city’s mythic foundation. But what was its role? Did it wield any real power, or was it merely a ceremonial ghost haunting the Forum?
The Imperial Senate in Context (390 AD)
The fourth century saw the Roman Empire split and reshaped under Christian emperors. Constantine the Great had moved the capital eastward to Constantinople, and Diocletian had previously experimented with a tetrarchy that decentralized imperial power. Rome was no longer the undisputed political center of the empire. Nonetheless, the Senate continued to sit in its marble-clad curia in the Roman Forum, issuing senatus consulta (senatorial decrees) and conducting ceremonies.
However, its actual political power had withered. The real decisions were made in imperial courts, often far from Rome. Still, the Senate retained considerable prestige. Members of senatorial rank continued to play roles as administrators and governors, especially in Italy and the western provinces. Moreover, senatorial wealth and aristocratic lineage carried significant social clout.
The Ceremonial Shell
By the time of Theodosius I (r. 379-395), the Senate was more a ceremonial body than a legislative one. It still met, debated (albeit rarely with fire), and produced honorary decrees. It retained the right to acclaim emperors, though this was more ritual than real. Senators continued to fund public works, especially the construction and maintenance of churches and civic buildings, often as a way to display their piety and civic virtue in the Christianizing empire.
One curious feature of the Senate’s survival was its adaptation to the Christian age. Originally a deeply pagan institution, the Senate had to accommodate the new religion. Many senators remained pagan well into the fifth century, such as the famed Symmachus, who argued for the preservation of the Altar of Victory in the Senate house. Eventually, though, even this bastion of tradition was Christianized, as emperors pressured and coaxed the aristocracy into conversion.
The Rise of a Rival – The Senate of Constantinople
While the Roman Senate aged into irrelevance, a new Senate was born in Constantinople. Constantine had established it in the fourth century, and over time it grew in importance. Though initially composed of lower-ranking officials, the Senate of Constantinople began to rival its Roman predecessor in prestige. By the fifth century, eastern senators often had more real political clout than their western counterparts.
This development further diminished the Roman Senate’s authority. Although still seen as a symbol of Rome’s ancient grandeur, its members had little influence on imperial policy, which now emanated from Ravenna (the western imperial capital from 402 onward) or directly from Constantinople.
Rome Besieged, Senators Disillusioned
The early fifth century was a time of increasing turmoil. Alaric’s sack of Rome in 410 was a psychological blow of epic proportions. For the first time in nearly 800 years, the city had fallen to a foreign enemy. The Senate, which had stood helpless, was symbolically humiliated.
Many senators attempted to negotiate with Alaric before the sack, offering ransom and supplies. Their failure underscored the limits of their influence. After the sack, Rome never truly recovered its former prestige, and many aristocrats retreated to their rural villas or shifted their attention to Constantinople.
The Church Ascendant
Perhaps the most significant development undermining the Senate was the rise of the Church as a parallel authority. Bishops, especially the Bishop of Rome (later the Pope), began to assume civic responsibilities. Figures like Pope Leo I (r. 440-461) were increasingly seen as the moral and, at times, practical leaders of the Roman people.
As senatorial families Christianized, they redirected their patronage away from temples and civic festivals toward churches and monastic foundations. While some senators became bishops themselves, the center of gravity was shifting inexorably from the Senate to the ecclesiastical hierarchy. By the late fifth century, the Bishop of Rome wielded more real power in the city than the Senate ever could.
End of the Western Empire, Afterlife of the Senate
In 476 AD, Romulus Augustulus was deposed by Odoacer, a Germanic general who declared himself King of Italy. The Western Roman Empire, at least in the traditional sense, was over. Yet the Senate remained.
Odoacer and later Theodoric the Ostrogoth maintained the Senate as a useful legitimizing tool. Theodoric, who ruled Italy from 493-526, even treated the Senate with respect, styled himself as a “restorer of Rome,” and encouraged senators like Cassiodorus and Boethius to take roles in administration.
Still, these were twilight years. The Senate was now entirely at the mercy of barbarian kings or distant emperors in Constantinople. It functioned primarily as a municipal council, handling local affairs, restoring buildings, and managing urban food supplies. It remained prestigious, but mostly inert.
Final Flickers and Historical Echoes
The last references to a functioning Roman Senate come from the early sixth century. After the Gothic Wars and the reconquest of Italy by Justinian’s general Belisarius, the Senate effectively disappears from history. Some scholars place its final demise in the 580s, while others argue it lingered in name only until the 7th century.
Its disappearance was not dramatic. There was no formal dissolution, no final decree. It simply faded away, no longer necessary in a world where imperial authority was distant, and local governance was the domain of bishops and warlords.
The Senate as Symbol
By 500 AD, the Roman Senate was a relic – an institution that had outlived the Republic, the Principate, and the Western Empire itself. It had adapted, survived, and slowly been hollowed out. Once the fulcrum of Roman political life, it had become a ceremonial appendage, a talking shop whose words carried little weight beyond the city.
And yet, in its quiet survival, it served as a bridge between worlds. It reminded Romans and barbarians alike of a time when order had reigned, when laws were debated, and when Rome was more than a memory. Even if no one was truly listening anymore, the Senate’s marble echo still resounded faintly in the ruins of the Forum.
