Cultural Politics in Polybius’s Histories [1 ed.] 9780520237643, 0520237641

Citation preview

Joan Palevsky

Imprint in Classical Literature

In honor of beloved Virgil— “O degli altri poeti onore e lume . . .” —Dante, Inferno

The publisher gratefully acknowledges the generous contribution to this book provided by the Classical Literature Endowment Fund of the University of California Press, which is supported by a major gift from Joan Palevsky.

Cultural Politics in Polybius’s Histories

Cultural Politics in Polybius’s Histories Craige B. Champion

UNIV ERSITY OF CA LIFORNIA PRESS Berkeley Los Angeles London

Hellenistic Culture and Society, 41 University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England © 2004 by the Regents of the University of California

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Champion, Craige Brian. Cultural politics in Polybius’s Histories / Craige B. Champion. p. cm.— (Hellenistic culture and society ; 41) Includes bibliographical references and index. isbn 0–520–23764–1 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Polybius. Historiae. 2. History, Ancient— Historiography. 3. Civilization, Classical—Historiography. 4. Rome—Politics and government—265–30 b.c.—Historiography. 5. Greece—Politics and government—To 146 b.c.—Historiography. I. Title. D58.P8 C43 2004 938—dc21 2003017212

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The paper used in this publication is both acid-free and totally chlorine-free (tcf). It meets the minimum requirements of ansi/niso z39.48–1992 (r 1997) (Permanence of Paper).

For John Karras

Il leur faut un Oedipe qui leur explique leur propre énigme dont ils n’ont pas eu le sens, qui leur apprenne ce que voulaient dire leurs paroles, leurs actes, qu’ils n’ont pas compris. They need an Oedipus who could explain their own riddle to them, whose meaning they have not sensed, who could teach them what their words, their acts meant, which they have not understood. jules michelet

contents

acknowledgments / abbreviations / xiii Introduction /

xi

1

part i. historical and historiographical contexts 1. Political Subordination and Indirect Historiography /

15

2. Greeks, Romans, and Barbarians: The Cultural Politics of Hellenism / 30

part ii. text and narrative 3. Genos Politeion: Book 6, Rome, and Hellenism / 4. Akme Politeion: Roman and Achaean Virtues /

67 100

5. Metabole Politeion: Roman and Achaean Degeneration in the Fragmentary Books / 144

part iii. ideological and political contexts 6. Collective Representations and Ideological Contexts / 7. Practical Contexts and Political Realities / Conclusion /

204

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Appendix A. Metabole Politeion: Polybian Ochlocracy and Polybian Barbarology / 241 Appendix B. BARBAROS in Polybius’s Histories /

245

Appendix C. LOGISMOS in Polybius’s Histories /

255

bibliography / 261 general index / 283 index locorum / 305 index of polybian terms /

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ac k n o w l e d g m e n t s

I wish to thank the Dean’s office at Allegheny College, my former academic home, for generously funding my annual summer research trips to Princeton. I also thank the Department of Classics at Princeton University and the School of Historical Studies at the Institute for Advanced Study for making their excellent research facilities readily available to me. I have benefited from association with a number of scholars. My dissertation adviser at Princeton, T. James Luce, Jr., strengthened my appreciation of historiographical problems in classical historians and also provided a model for how an excellent scholar can also be humane and unpretentious. My former colleagues Robert D. English and Joshua Searle-White sharpened my understanding of the formation of national and ethnic identities. Christian Habicht graciously consented to instruct me in Greek epigraphy as my Special Field during my graduate studies. R. Elaine Fantham and Brent D. Shaw have been constant supporters of my work. My friends and former colleagues James C. Hogan and Samuel K. Edwards always had time to listen to my ideas and provide constructive criticism. Noel Lenski, Al Bertrand, and Jochen Twele read earlier drafts of this book, and their astute observations allowed me to make it a much better one. Robert Morstein-Marx kindly allowed me to read his manuscript on late republican contiones before its publication, permitting me to sharpen some of the arguments in chapter 7. There are also nonscholarly debts to record. My parents, Clifford and Madeleine Champion, enabled me to pursue my own path. Cathy Carroll supported me in my professional career in manifold ways. Martina Champion has been the most positive force in my life, and she and our daughters, Laura and Maya, have continuously exhibited their love and patience over the years it has taken me to write this book. I must extend special thanks to several scholars who have helped me to xi

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bring this long labor to completion. Erich S. Gruen has been a constant scholarly guide, from reading my earliest writings on Polybius to seeing this work through to publication. Arthur M. Eckstein has been an astute and fair critic and a cherished sounding-board for my ideas on Polybius. Kenneth S. Sacks served as reader for the University of California Press, and his detailed and painstaking criticisms forced me to make the work clearer in exposition and more direct in argumentation. Finally, I reserve my greatest expression of gratitude and admiration for John Karras, a dynamic teacher who introduced me to classical history during my undergraduate career. In subsequent years he has effortlessly changed roles from professor and mentor to peer and friend. Without his influence and support I doubt whether I ever would have written the present work.

a b b r e v i at i o n s

ANRW

Austin HW

B-W CAH CIL CMG DK6

FGrH Glockmann and Helms, Polyb.-Lex. IC

IDelos IG

H. Temporini, ed. Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt. Berlin and New York, 1972–. M. M. Austin, ed. The Hellenistic World from Alexander to the Roman Conquest. Cambridge, 1981. Th. Büttner-Wobst, ed. Polybii Historiae. 5 vols. Leipzig, 1889–1905. The Cambridge Ancient History. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. Berlin, 1863–. Corpus Medicorum Graecorum. Leipzig and Berlin, 1908. H. Diels and W. Kranz, eds. Fragmente der Vorsokratiker. 6th ed. Dublin and Zurich, 1952. F. Jacoby, ed. Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. Berlin, 1923–. G. Glockmann and H. Helms, eds. Polybios-Lexicon. Band 2.1. Berlin, 1998. F. Halbherr and M. Guarducci, eds. Inscriptiones Creticae. Rome, 1935–1950. Inscriptions de Delos. Paris, 1926–. Inscriptiones Graecae. Berlin, 1873. Revised, 1913. Vol. 1, 3d ed., 1981. xiii

xiv

abbreviations

IGRR

ILS LSJ 9

Mauersberger Moretti IAG MRR

OGIS ORF 3 P. Col. Zen.

P. Yale

RE

SEG SVA III

SVF Syll.3

R. Cagnat et al., eds. Inscriptiones Graecae ad Res Romanas Pertinentes. Paris, 1906–27. H. Dessau, ed. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. Berlin, 1892–1916. H. G. Liddell and R. Scott, eds. A Greek-English Lexicon. Revised by H. S. Jones, 9th ed. Reprint, Oxford, 1994. A. Mauersberger. Polybios-Lexicon. 4 fasc. Berlin, 1956–75. L. Moretti, ed. Iscrizioni agonistiche greche. Rome, 1953. T. R. S. Broughton. The Magistrates of the Roman Republic. New York, 1951–52. Suppl., 1986. W. Dittenberger, ed. Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae. Leipzig, 1903–5. H. Malcovati, ed. Oratorum Romanorum Fragmenta. Turin, 1953. W. L. Westermann et al., eds. Zenon Papyri: Business Papers of the Third Century B.C. Dealing with Palestine and Egypt. 2 vols. New York 1934, 1940. J. F. Oates, A. E. Samuel, C. B. Welles, eds. Yale Papyri in the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. Vol. 1. American Studies in Papyrology, vol. 2. New Haven and Toronto, 1967. A. F. von Pauly and G. Wissowa, eds. Real Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft. Stuttgart, 1894–1972. Suppl. 1903–. Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. Leiden, 1923–. H. H. Schmitt, ed. Die Staatsverträge des Altertums. Vol. 3, Die Verträge der griechisch-römischen Welt von 338 bis 200 v. Chr. Munich, 1969. H. von Arnim, ed. Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta. Leipzig, 1903–24. W. Dittenberger, ed. Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum. 3d ed. Leipzig, 1915–24.

abbreviations

Walbank HC

Ziegler

1–3 F. W. Walbank. A Historical Commentary on Polybius. Oxford, 1957, 1967, 1979. K. Ziegler. “Polybios.” RE 21.2: cols. 1440–1578.

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Introduction Polybe n’est pas seulement pour nous un historien. Il est un fait culturel en soi. Polybius, for us, is not only a historian. He is a cultural fact in himself. claire préaux

The act of reading in classical antiquity strikes the modern reader as a daunting cognitive task. Ancient readers had to contend with cumbersome papyrus scrolls, with none of the conveniences the modern reader may take for granted, such as chapter and section headings, paragraph divisions, cross-referencing, and indices. Reading in antiquity meant grappling with the awkward scroll and sifting meaning through line after line of continuous letters (scriptio continua), with no spaces between words and the most rudimentary forms of punctuation. It is small wonder, then, that ancient Greek and Roman prose authors placed the highest importance on their prooemia, or introductory overtures. Given the laborious task the medium of the papyrus scroll imposed, we have reason to believe that these opening lines afforded the author but a slim opportunity of capturing the attention of the reader, whose interest or curiosity would have to be great enough to compensate for the formidable effort of reading the work through to its end. Consequently, classical prose authors took the greatest pains in composing their introductions.1 Polybius, the Greek historian of the rise of the Roman empire, is no exception in this regard. In his introductory chapters he underscores the benefits to be derived from serious history (1.1.1–3). He stresses the unparalleled historical significance of his subject matter, the expansion of Roman power to encompass the oikoumene, or known inhabited world, and this in the brief period of some fifty-three years (1.1.5–6). For the first time in world history, according to the historian, all the events of the inhabited 1. On reading materials, handwriting conventions, and readers in antiquity, see Knox 1985; Easterling 1985; Turner 1987: 1–23. Polybius apologizes for the unwieldy bulk of his work at 3.32.1–2.

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world had become interconnected; local histories or histories of one part of the world would no longer suffice. The unification of world events under Rome’s aegis required a new kind of history, universal in scope (1.4.2–11; cf. 3.1.4–11). Polybius states that this has been the most marvelous work of Fortune or Tyche (1.4.1, 4–5), and he goads the reader by stating that no one could be so worthless, indolent, or passionate about some other pursuit as not to want to acquire knowledge of this astounding historical process (1.1.3–6). He makes his point through a comparison of the Roman empire with other imperial powers that had preceded it (aC progegenhmAnai dynasteAai). Here Polybius places the Greek empire of Sparta and the Macedonian monarchy, hegemon over the Greek world with long-standing Hellenic cultural pretensions, on an equal footing with the non-Greek, “barbarian” power of imperial Achaemenid Persia (1.2.1–8). In this introduction it is the effectiveness of empires in establishing and maintaining power that appears to be what is important for the historian, not ethnic or cultural distinctions between Greeks and non-Greeks.2 But many Greeks in Polybius’s day did regard the Romans as a non-Greek, barbarian people, and the problems that this fact must have posed for Polybius and his idea of universal history provide the focal point of this study. As we shall see, the answers that Polybius gives to the question of the Romans’ cultural identity are equivocal, and his irresolution in this regard is understandable in light of the convulsive times in which he lived. Polybius was a political hostage at Rome, an outsider on the inside, a stranger in a strange land. In his lifetime the political independence of the Greek world in effect came to an end under Roman supremacy. His text affords a rich opportunity to study both the impact of political domination upon a subject and the ways in which accommodation to political subjection can also contain messages of resistance, encoded in ways that correspond to what James C. Scott calls “hidden transcripts.”3 I am interested in the indirect ways in which Polybius voices Greek resistance to Roman power. The Greek historian, I maintain, demonstrates both conformity to and rejection of the Roman dispensation through his collective representations of Romans. He works this out in the cultural tradition available to him—the Hellenic/barbarian bipolarity. I ask these questions: What is the cultural identity of the Romans in the Histories? Are the Romans a part of the civilized Hellenic world or are they barbarians in Polybius’s text? Where do they fit on a Polybian Greek-barbarian grid? And what does this tell us about Greek statesmen of the second century b.c.e. in the face of Roman power? I am concerned with Greek statesmen’s politically motivated, strategic uses of Hellenism as 2. Some scholars have seen Stoic influences at work in such passages, but there is no positive proof that Stoicism had an appreciable impact on Polybius’s thought; see p. 82 n. 47. 3. See Scott 1990 passim.

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responses to a world under Roman domination, and Polybius’s history is our richest text for studying this problem. Polybius’s lifetime (ca. 200–ca. 118 b.c.e.) was indeed a remarkable period in cross-cultural interactions. Rome’s arrival as Mediterranean hegemon in its middle republican period perhaps provides the most fascinating case study of the politics of culture from classical antiquity. The advanced and accomplished cultures of Greece had to come to terms with the raw fact of political subjection to Rome, while the militaristic Romans, conscious that their cultural attainments were primitive and inferior to the intellectual and artistic traditions of the Greek lands they had conquered to the east, struggled with the appropriate response to Hellenism. From a Roman perspective, the problem was the question of a Roman cultural identity, and in an ancient Mediterranean context that question inevitably was formulated in terms of the standard of the civilized and cultured political and social life, that is, “Greekness,” or Hellenism. From a Greek perspective, the problem was a politico-cultural one of refashioning the concept of Hellenism to accommodate Roman predominance. A central question in the study of the intellectual and social phenomenon of Greek culture in the Roman world therefore involves possible political encodings in Greek texts that speak of Rome. I begin from the assumption that Greek representations of Romans in the second century b.c.e. were for the most part politically instrumental. Greeks increasingly made appeal to the Romans, and Romans sometimes acted in ways that Greeks perceived to be in their own best interests. In such contexts Greeks could receive the Romans into the Hellenic cultural commune of civilized states, sometimes even praising them as “honorary Greeks,” as when they admitted Romans to the Isthmian games in the aftermath of the First Illyrian War. I call this a politics of cultural assimilation of the Romans to Hellenism. On the other hand, whenever Romans acted in brutal fashion in Greeks lands, and Polybius’s description of the Roman sack of cities provides chilling evidence for the extent of this brutality (10.15.4–16.9; cf. Liv. 31.34.4–5), Greeks rebuked the Romans in the sharpest terms available in their politico-cultural vocabulary, referring to them as barbarians. I call this a politics of cultural alienation from Rome. But these Greek responses were tempered by the fact of Roman power, and Greek statesmen often voiced their criticisms of Rome obliquely before political masters who themselves felt a deep ambivalence regarding Greek culture. Scholars have not thoroughly explored Polybius’s text in its politico-cultural dimensions. Polybius’s representations of collective ethnic-cultural groups, his causal explanations for alleged collective societal characteristics, and his deployment of the politico-cultural system of Hellenism, especially with regard to Rome, are central concerns of this study. The question as to whether the Romans were for Polybius quasi Hellenes or barbarians is closely

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connected to the large question as to whether the historian was pro- or antiRoman. This has been a preoccupation of modern Polybian scholarship,4 but I argue that a careful reading of Polybius’s history in its ideological and historico-political contexts demands that we reformulate the question. The basic premise of this work is that in Polybius’s collective representations the Romans are alternately Hellenes and barbarians, and that this ambiguity as to the Romans’ cultural identity is a pervasive, politically motivated strategy in Polybius’s text, whose meaning emerges from the ideological forces and political circumstances in which it was constituted. My thesis is that Polybius at times represents the Romans as a civilized people possessing Hellenic virtues, thereby engaging in a politics of cultural assimilation of the Romans to Hellenism, while in other passages he obliquely suggests the barbarism of the Romans, engaging in a subtle politics of cultural alienation of Romans from Hellenism. Together the rival images of Rome constitute what I call a politics of cultural indeterminacy, and I maintain that we should understand this apparent ambiguity of Polybius’s representations of Rome by attending to the historian’s political circumstances and his intended Greek and Roman audiences.5 The politico-cultural dimensions of Hellenism in this strategic sense comprise what I mean by the phrase “cultural politics,” and my use of this concept, central to this study, calls for definition. Defining “culture” is a most difficult task. It is a word so widely and disparately used in academic discourse that even those who define themselves as practitioners of “cultural studies” are tormented by their inability to arrive at something like a consensus as to just what “culture” means.6 It is therefore necessary to delimit the term and to state the restricted sense in which I employ it in this book. I am not primarily concerned with culture as a concrete object for historical analysis, as a “whole social process” or as a “total lived experience.” On the contrary, I am mainly interested in culture as something that is situational and, above all, representational. I therefore offer the following definition of culture as I use it in this study: culture is the construction and representation of discrete systems of social processes ascribable to human collectivities. On such a definition, culture is always something that is processual and negotiable. These constructions and representations, of course, are them4. See, for example, Walbank 1972: 166–83; 1985: 280–97, 325–43 (increasingly proRoman); Shimron 1979/80 (essentially anti-Roman); cf. Musti 1978: 55. 5. On Polybius’s readership, see Mohm 1977: 121–229; Walbank 1972: 3–6 and nn. 16–19, stressing Polybius’s Greek audience, to which add 1.42.1–2 (Sicily to Italy as Peloponnesus to Greece). But I cannot accept the dismissal of 31.22.8 (Romans above all will peruse Polybius’s history) at Walbank 1972: 4 n. 18; cf. Dubuisson 1985: 266–67. Polybius explicitly refers to his Roman readership at 6.11.3–8, where he apologizes for omission of constitutional details in his account of the Roman politeia. 6. See Hunt 1989; Dirks, Eley, and Ortner 1994; cf. McKay 1981: 211–28; La Capra 1985: 72.

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selves in large part historically determined; yet human agents who employ them do not merely reproduce cultural symbols in a static way, but rather they act upon them in innovative, creative, and ultimately transformative modes. In this sense, we may further articulate our use of the term “culture,” following M. Sahlins in defining it as “the organization of the current situation in terms of a past.”7 It follows that, although informed by received tradition and a historically transmitted cultural paradigm, agency and motive in particular historical configurations are of paramount importance in cultural praxis. From such a perspective, the political dimensions of culture immediately come into view. Cultural politics, then, as the focal point of the following study of Polybius’s Histories, is the use of these constructions and representations of discrete social systems of collective peoples as politically motivated, self-interested strategic maneuvers. And in Polybius’s case, these maneuvers were in large part his attempt to establish two, potentially conflictive political self-identities before his two readerships, the members of the Roman senatorial aristocracy and his compatriots of the political class in his Greek homeland. Polybius’s representations of the Romans as a collectivity, then, form the backbone of this study. And this aspect of the work, the historian’s representations of collective groups, is for the most part unexplored territory.8 A passage in book 8 (16.4–5) drew me to the study of Polybius’s collective representations. Here Polybius is describing the capture of the Seleucid rebel Achaeus. A certain Bolis, a Cretan, gained Achaeus’s confidence only to betray him to the monarch Antiochus III. Polybius states that the crafty Bolis had been weighing every opportunity and testing every plan. He introduces this statement with a causal participial construction, ete Krb% Cparxvn. The participle Cparxvn is introduced by the causal particle ete: Bolis behaves as he does because he is a Cretan. This passage opened up for me the whole question of collective representations in the Histories and the idea of collective group characters in Polybius’s system of causality, and I found that Polybian scholars have paid virtually no attention to this aspect of the work. Polybius is known as the historian for whom causes are paramount, and we may well ask, if membership in a collective cultural or ethnic group, such as the Romans, can serve in itself as a causal explanation in the Histories, then what are the causal determinants for the historian in the formation of collective characteristics in the first place? Here Polybius drew upon a rich Greek intellectual tradition concerning the formation of collective group characteristics in working out the Romans’ position in his Hellenic-barbarian continuum. Greek thinkers posited three basic explanations for the 7. Sahlins 1985: 155. 8. For summary treatments of Polybian barbarology, see Schmitt 1957/58; Eckstein 1995b: 119–25.

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observable differences among peoples: (1) distinctive characteristics may be inherent in particular peoples (phusis); (2) climatic and geographical factors may determine group characteristics; and (3) political and social insitutions, and especially the civilizing forces of Hellenic paideia, may mold the characters of collectivities. All three of these causal explanations appear in Polybius’s Histories. Polybius, however, places by far the greatest emphasis on political and social institutions in his causality for ethnic-cultural group characteristics. Indeed, the nature and structure of politeiai are so crucial in historical causation for the historian that he devotes an entire book (book 6) to the life cycles of states. Hellenism and barbarism turn out for Polybius to be historically contingent upon the health of the institutional structures of the polity. Any given people may deteriorate from Hellenic virtues to barbarian vices as a result of institutional decay. Hellenism and barbarism, therefore, are not innate and immutable in particular peoples. Polybius’s decision to stress institutional factors and historical contingency in his system of causation for collective societal characteristics allowed for the greatest flexibility, and ambiguity, in regard to the question of Rome’s relation to Hellenism. In Polybius’s political theory, political communities may pass through cyclical developmental stages, enjoying periods of “Hellenic” virtue when they are directed by the guiding hand of reason, or logismos, and alternately devolving into degenerate conditions of irrationality and unbridled passion, the realm of Polybian barbarians. The nadir in the historian’s typology for the life cycle of states is ochlocracy, or the rule of the masses, and it is highly significant for my reading of the Histories that Polybius describes this lowest, most degenerate political form in the same terms he uses to describe the barbarian. In Polybius’s view Rome’s “mixed constitution,” a balance of monarchical, aristocratic, and democratic elements, is the best conceivable polity and is able to stave off the ineluctable forces of degeneration longer than any other state organization. But it cannot hold off the inevitable degeneration indefinitely. Polybius’s historical narrative is informed by this political theory. We see the Romans in the early books of the Histories in an unspoilt, “Hellenic” character. Roman virtues, reflecting a Roman polity in its optimal state, are most pronounced in the first five books; and these books are punctuated by the political analysis of book 6, which sets them off from the rest of the work. In books 1–5 we also see a parallel narrative of Polybius’s native Achaean Confederation of Peloponnesian Greek states in its prime. This parallel narrative serves to erase the ethnic-cultural division between Romans and Greeks and to reinforce the hyperethnic force of governmental institutions and societal practices in collective group characteristics. In the historical narrative following book 6, however, we find a large narrative pattern of progressive societal degeneration both at Rome and in Greece. Institutional atrophy across

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the Mediterranean world (in its universalizing nature again serving to erode ethnic separation between Romans and Greeks) results in a steady loss of the practice of logismos both in domestic politics and in international relations. In the later books we increasingly see, both at Rome and in the Greek world, the reign of haughty self-interestedness, grasping irrationality, and unreasoning emotion—characteristics of Polybius’s barbarians. In order to understand these aspects of Polybius’s narrative, I situate his collective representations in their contemporary ideological contexts, both Greek and Roman. And this raises the question of Polybius’s target audience. Now Polybius explicitly states at the outset of his work that history is the soundest education and training for a life in politics, adding that it is also useful more generally as an aid in bearing life’s vicissitudes (1.1.2). Although the question of reading audiences in classical antiquity is a notoriously difficult one,9 I assume on the basis of this and similar statements in the Histories that Polybius’s intended readership was the political elite in Greece and Rome. Yet even with this specificity we are far from anything like a simple dual readership, Greek and Roman. For example, it is certainly conceivable that some of Polybius’s astute Roman readers were aware that Greek readers were learning about and judging them through the Histories, and vice versa. Moreover, on the question of Hellenism, a central concern of the chapters that follow, there was hardly anything like a consensus among Polybius’s potential Roman readership in the second century, and Greek views on the Romans were also very divided in this period, as we clearly see in Polybius’s report of Greek opinions on the Roman destruction of Carthage (36.9.1–10.1). Notwithstanding the complexities and nuances of these primary audiences, I argue that Polybius assimilates Romans and Greeks through a similar political devolution, aligning his narrative voice with a conservative Roman political ideology (which bemoaned contemporary Roman practices and called for a return to mos maiorum, or ways of the ancestors), and disavowing radical, demagogic politics in conformity with a Roman aristocratic ideological position. For convenience we may refer to these aspects of Polybius’s narrative as exercises in the politics of cultural assimilation of the Romans to Polybius’s refashioning of Hellenism. Yet there are also subtexts in the Histories in which Polybius in subtle fashion suggests that the Romans are barbarians after all, even in the earliest parts of the work, in which they are at face value still in their optimal, “Hellenic” state. I argue that these suggestions of Roman barbarism conform to a strong, anti-Roman Greek political ideology, that they are aimed at those elements of Polybius’s Greek readership that were hostile to Rome, and that they constitute an exercise in the politics of cultural alienation. 9. See Humphreys 1978: 209–41. I have learned a great deal about the complexities of understanding ancient reading cultures from Johnson 2000.

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I complete the search for the political meaning of these features of Polybius’s narrative by turning to the historical circumstances and political contexts of the Histories’ composition. Roman senators in this period were witnessing deep, and disturbing, socioeconomic transformations in Roman society that threatened to disrupt traditional political networks and the practice of politics at Rome. In particular they felt fears concerning new opportunities for the brilliant individual Roman statesman-general who might harness the energies of an increasingly unwieldy electorate and the soldiery, thus creating a disequilibrium in the Senate and a threat to that body’s collective rule. The Senate took measures against this perceived threat. Its fears are reflected in the ancient stories of the demagogic, would-be tyrant in the Romans’ reconstruction of their early history, and the senators’ sensitivity to radical, demagogic politics is revealed in Rome’s actions in the international sphere in the Greek east. We may read Polybius’s assimilation of Rome to his conservative brand of Hellenism, his alignment with a Roman “politics of the past,” and his strong disavowal of radical, demagogic politics (ochlocracy as the most degenerate and depraved of political forms) as political apology. Indeed, I shall argue that it is highly likely that Polybius’s political opposition within the Achaean Confederation accused the historian himself of demagogic politics before the Senate. In order to understand the subtexts in the Histories in which Romans emerge as barbarians, on the other hand, it is necessary to turn our attention to segments of Polybius’s Greek readership hostile to Rome, and particularly to his compatriots in the Achaean Confederation. Some Achaean statesmen regarded the Achaean understanding with Rome in 198 as a political betrayal of their traditional benefactor, Macedonia, and they looked askance at any unnecessary Achaean collaboration with Rome. Here we may well remember the improvement in Polybius’s own political fortunes with his Roman captors and his eventual services to Rome in the political resettlement of Greece after 146. The muted images of Romans as barbarians, I maintain, helped to assert Polybius’s independent political agency in the context of intramural Achaean politics. Consideration of these historico-political circumstances makes sense of Polybius’s seemingly contradictory representations of the Romans, which constitute a politics of cultural indeterminacy. It should be clear by now that I am after the political meaning of Polybius’s Histories in terms of its intentionality. Although I wish to keep theoretical abstraction to a minimum, this calls for brief comment on methodological foundations. My approach has been informed by the work of Quentin Skinner and his contextual hermeneutics. Any attempt to understand the meaning of a work through a contextual approach must confront the problem of authorial intention. For many, attempts to establish the meanings of literary works through the intentions of authors are futile endeavors; on this view in its extreme form, the recovery of intentionality is

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a methodological impossibility. Indeed, in literary analysis examination of the biographies of authors and their intentions was anathema to many of the so-called New Critics. And in more recent literary criticism, some have even called for the abolition of the author category as an impediment to analyses of the workings of discourse.10 In my view, Skinner has successfully countered the idea that biographical details of authors and contemporary historical circumstances of the time of composition are of minimal value in literary analysis. He maintains that we can understand the meaning of a text only by attending to its contexts, both the conventions of public discourse writers of the time employed (ideological context) and the political characteristics of the society to which the text responds (practical context). Contextual hermeneutics assumes that the author of a work may not be the ideal interpreter of it, as Socrates learned when he questioned the poets who were reputed for great wisdom (Pl. Ap. 22c–d); rather, the underlying assumption, in paraphrase of Schleiermacher’s famous dictum, is that the investigator is actually in a better position to understand the meaning of the work than its author. This method seeks the meaning of a work by situating it in its ideological and historical contexts, while disavowing attempts to recover authors’ conscious intentions and subjective operations in writing. In my contextual interpretation I perhaps lay greater emphasis on external, political events, the practical context, and less on the conventional linguistic background than does Skinner, in large part because we possess no extensive body of contemporaneous Greek historiographical comparanda by means of which to reconstruct an ideological context for the Histories according to Skinner’s prescriptions.11 The fragmentary state of Polybius’s text has encouraged Polybian scholars to isolate particular passages and to attempt a reconstruction of their relative time of composition, and this calls for further comment on the methodology employed in this study. While I have tried to elicit the meaning of Polybius’s work by means of a rigorous historical contextualization, I have not sought to isolate the particular time of composition for particular books, chapters, and passages. In other words, I have avoided an approach that seeks a chronological map for the composition of the work and a sequential evolution of Polybius’s thought. Rather, I have chosen to treat the work as we have it, as a unity with sustained narrative patterns, and to understand it as such in its own intellectual traditions and politico-historical contexts. But I must stress that my contextual approach, in eschewing attempts to recover 10. In a well-known essay, Wimsatt (1954) concisely lays out the New Critic’s objections to intentionalism; for more recent calls for the abolition of the author category, see, for example, Foucault 1977; Barthes 1979. 11. See collected essays in Tully 1988. For criticism of Skinner’s undue emphasis on linguistic conventions at the expense of reconstruction of events, see Levine 1986.

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Polybius’s conscious intentions, does not claim to reflect Polybius’s complete, unified thinking as he sat down to his work. And even if we could recover Polybius’s conscious intentions and subjective operations in writing (which I regard as a methodological impossibility) and limited our concerns to those, we still would miss political, sociological, cultural, and ideological forces at work in the Histories that may well have lain beneath the author’s conscious threshold. Of course the idea that Polybius went about his task as universal historian of the Roman empire with a blueprint for the politics of cultural assimilation, alienation, and indeterminacy would be absurd. Nevertheless I believe that the designations of cultural assimilation, alienation, and indeterminacy are useful hermeneutical devices for reading his work. They help to elucidate the discursive structures of the Histories that textual analysis reveals (see part 2). My approach, in short, is to employ these designations in thinking of the Histories as an intellectual artifact that takes on meaning from its contemporaneous ideological and political surroundings. This approach admittedly entails some sacrifices. For example, there can be no doubt that there is a qualitative change in the narrative technique in the last ten books of the Histories. F. W. Walbank has seen the motivation behind these final books as different from both Polybius’ stated reason for extending the work (3.4.1–5.8) and his purpose in writing the preceding books. According to Walbank, Polybius wrote the last ten books because they recounted events in which the historian himself was intimately involved. There is much to commend this reading, and it is supported by the shift from third- to first-person reporting when Polybius refers to himself as a participant in historical events.12 Notwithstanding such acknowledged shortcomings, however, an holistic approach to the Histories seems to me best for several reasons. First, we have only the roughest of signposts for the time of composition. We can be fairly certain, for example, that Polybius wrote books 1–15 before 146, as up to that point in the history he makes several references to Carthage as if it were still in existence.13 Although R. Weil adopts an excessively pessimistic view in maintaining that almost nothing can be known about the time of composition of the Histories (an extreme position to which we need not subscribe), it is the case that precise details on the stages of Polybius’s writing for the most part elude us.14 The problem of insertions, examples of which run throughout the his-

12. 36.11.1–12.5, with Marincola 1997a: 188–92. 13. 1.73.4; 6.52.1–3, 56.1–3; 9.9.9–10; 14.10.5; 15.30.10; 31.12.12. Erbse (1951 and 1957) argued that these are “achronistic,” or timeless, uses of the present tense; rightly rejected by Brink and Walbank 1954: 99; Walbank 1963; Musti 1965: 383–84; cf. Mioni 1949: 36–37. On the redaction of the Histories, see generally Pédech 1964: 563–73. 14. Weil 1988; Walbank 1972: 18–19; 1977 for a more balanced assessment, and for a general overview of the problem, Walbank HC 1.292–97.

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tory, further complicates definite knowledge of the precise stages of composition.15 Polybius most likely did not have time for extensive writing between 151 and 146.16 He probably wrote his account of Sicilian geography in book 1 after his voyages of those years, and there are further detailed topographical descriptions of Sicily in books 7–9. The detail about the circumference of New Carthage in book 10 is a late insertion that Polybius must have made after he had visited the city in 151. A passage in book 18 looks ahead to book 31.17 Some scholars have considered the digression on early Achaean history in book 2, the so-called Achaean prokataskeue, as an early, independent historical monograph Polybius later inserted into the Histories. This hypothesis is impossible to prove or disprove, and both the time of composition and function in the Histories of the Achaean prokataskeue are likely to remain subjects of scholarly contention.18 The most obvious later insertions are two passages in book 3, the reference to the via Domitia, which establishes a terminus post quem of 118, and the famous second preface, announcing Polybius’s plan to extend the work to 146.19 In addition to this evidence that Polybius later revisited completed passages in order to insert modifications based on recent experiences, there is clear evidence that his work also includes notes he made on events at the time of their occurrence and later incorporated into his history.20 P. Pédech has pointed to the report of Polybius’s meeting with the Galatian noblewoman Chiomara in book 21 as a passage that Polybius may have written well before 169, and it may therefore be a case in point. The account of Demetrius’s flight from Rome in the summer of 162 is a certain example of this procedure.21 For what we might call mechanical reasons, then, there are further grounds for not sifting through Polybius’s text in order to isolate particular passages in 15. See Walbank 1985: 326–30; Eckstein 1995b: 16 n. 68. 16. See Pédech 1964: 555–63. 17. 1.42.1–7, with Pédech 1964: 527 n. 72, 565–66; 10.11.4, with Pédech 1964: 555–60; Walbank HC 1.296; 1972: 120 on 10.9.8–10.13, a description of New Carthage apparently written before Polybius’s visit; 18.36.1, an apparent reference to 31.22.1–30.4, with Walbank 1972: 19 and nn. 90–92. Pédech 1964: 572 for a table of post-146 additions to the first redaction; see also Brink and Walbank 1954: 101–2 and n. 8; Walbank 1972: 121 nn. 131–32. 18. See Gelzer 1964a and 1964b; Petzold 1960: 252–53; 1969: 25–128, esp. 44–49, 97; contra Walbank 1985: 296; Champion 1996: 326. 19. Via Domitia: 3.39.8 (bracketed in B-W); Walbank HC 1.373 and 2.636 ad loc.; 1972: 12–13, 23–24; Eckstein 1992: 393–97; “change of plan”: 3.4.1–5.9, with Walbank 1972: 27–31; Momigliano 1974: 28–30; Eckstein 1995b: 10–11. 20. Cf. Gelzer 1964d: 168. 21. Chiomara: 21.38.1–7; Pédech 1964: 518–19 with nn. 19–22; Walbank HC 3.151–52 ad loc.; 1972: 6 n. 26, 121 n. 131; cf. Liv. 38.24.1–10. Demetrius: 31.11.1–15.12, referring to Carthage as still in existence (31.12.12), compelling evidence that the passage represents a detailed note of the incident that Polybius made at the time: Walbank HC 1.292–93; 3.478 ad loc.

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chronological relation to the work as a whole or as strands in a mosaic of Polybius’s evolving political thought.22 In light of these considerations, I have chosen to treat the Histories as a unity and to read Polybius’s collective representations as part of a thematically coherent narrative in their contemporary ideological and historical contexts. 22. See Mioni 1949: 40–46 for a critique of the earlier attempts at Schichtenanalyse of Laqueur and Cuntz; cf. Eisen 1966: 31 (book 6).

pa r t o n e

Historical and Historiographical Contexts

Chapter 1

Political Subordination and Indirect Historiography There is a . . . realm of subordinate group politics. . . . This is a politics of disguise and anonymity that takes place in public view but is designed to have a double meaning or to shield the identity of the actors. james c. scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance

Polybius of Megalopolis was an important force in Mediterranean international politics, and he ranks as one of the great figures in the ancient Greek historiographical tradition.1 In this chapter I consider Polybius from these perspectives in order to provide a foundation for studying his cultural politics in the Histories. First, I shall briefly present the biographical tradition on Polybius, especially necessary since his history is unfamiliar even to many classicists. Second, the reader will find a discussion of Polybius’s views on the nature and function of history writing and his place in the ancient Greek historiographical tradition. Finally, I shall offer three historiographical typologies that help to conceptualize Polybius’s collective representations and to clarify my approach to his text in the chapters that follow.

Polybius of Megalopolis Polybius was born near the end of the third century.2 He belonged to the aristocratic elite of Megalopolis, the most powerful member of the Achaean Confederation of Peloponnesian poleis. Lycortas, his father, was appointed 1. Throughout I have used the Greek text of Th. Büttner-Wobst’s Teubner edition (hereafter B-W). Translations are from W. R. Paton’s text in the Loeb Classical Library (reprint, 1979); I have noted instances where I have modified Paton’s translation. All references to book, chapter, and section, unless otherwise noted, are to Polybius; in cases where confusion might arise, the reference is preceded by the abbreviation “Plb.” Unless otherwise indicated, all dates are B.C.E. 2. For concise accounts of Polybius’s biography, Walbank HC 1.1–6; 1972: 1–31; Derow 1982; Momigliano 1987: 67–77; Eckstein 1995b: 1–16; Champion 1997b; Ziegler cols. 1527–31; for the chronology of Polybius’s lifetime, see Walbank HC 1.1 and n. 1; 1972: 6 n. 26; Ziegler cols. 1445–46; Pédech 1961; Eckstein 1992.

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Achaean hipparchos, or cavalry commander, and was selected as a member of Achaean embassies to Rome and to Ptolemaic Alexandria in 188. In the crowning achievement of an Achaean political career, Lycortas served in the highest political office of the confederation, that of strategos, several times in the 180s. After the great Achaean statesman Philopoemen’s death, he forced a recalcitrant Messene back into the Achaean Confederation.3 Polybius’s brother Thearidas took part in a diplomatic mission in 159/158 to Rome concerning an interstate dispute involving Athens, Delos, and the confederation, and in 147/146 he again traveled to Rome in order to apologize for the harsh Achaean treatment of the Roman legate L. Aurelius Orestes.4 Polybius’s own early political career was distinguished, and his honors were many and rapid. The Achaean historian’s own political significance in many of the events he describes is without rival in classical historiography. He carried Philopoemen’s remains at the latter’s funeral in 182; he was selected as an envoy for a diplomatic mission to the Ptolemiac court in Alexandria in 181/180; and he was elected to the second highest office in the Achaean Confederation, that of hipparchos, for 170/169, when he was thirty, the youngest age of eligibility for that important post. Polybius, then, was born and raised in one of the great aristocratic Megalopolitan houses, and a brilliant career in international politics would appear to have been almost a foregone conclusion for him. It seemed to be only a matter of time before he would serve as Achaean strategos, the elected leader of the confederation.5 Events on the international scene, however, changed everything. Polybius was to share the fate of his two great predecessors in the field of Greek historiography, Herodotus and Thucydides: political misfortune and expatriation. The Achaean Confederation, along with the Aetolian Confederation in north-central Greece, was a Greek experiment in representative government that allowed the Greek poleis to maintain a certain degree of autonomy against the encroachments of the Macedonian monarchy. The Greek federal state therefore held out the promise of reestablishing the Greeks’ cherished ideal of autarky as a contemporary political reality, while at the same time serving to break down the insularity, exclusivity, and parochialism of the individual Greek poleis that had plagued the political history of the Greek states 3. Hipparchos: Liv. 35.29.1–2; embassy to Rome: Liv. 38.32.4–10; to Alexandria: 22.3.5–6; strategos: Liv. 39.35.5–6, 36.5 (185/184); Plut. Phil. 21; cf. Liv. 39.50.7–8 (replacing the deceased Philopoemen as suffect); 24.6.4–5 (182/181?), with Errington 1969: 262–63 and Table II on Achaean strategoi (pp. 300–301); assembled references for Lycortas’s exploits at Messene at Gruen 1984: 495 n. 63. 4. 32.7.1 (159/158); 38.10.1–3 (147/146), with MRR 1.464; Deininger 1971: 226–27; Syll.3 626 and n. 2 for honors to Thearidas in an inscription from Epidaurus; for his known political activities, Walbank HC 3.525 ad 32.7.1; RE 5A.2 (1934) col. 1382 s.v. Thearidas (2) (Stähelin). 5. Philopoemen: Plut. Phil. 21; Alexandrian embassy: 24.6.1–7; hipparchos: 28.6.9, with Pédech 1969.

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in the high classical period. This federal experiment came to an end with Rome’s rise to Mediterranean hegemon, and Polybius’s Achaean Confederation ceased to exist in any meaningful way with the catastrophic Roman destruction of Corinth in 146.6 Some twenty years earlier, after Rome had defeated the Macedonian king Perseus at Pydna in 168, Polybius’s political policy of a cautious Achaean independence in international affairs, especially those concerning Rome, got him into trouble with the Roman authorities.7 They deported him to Italy as a political hostage, along with some one thousand other Greek politicians suspected of pro-Macedonian leanings.8 Most of the hostages lived out the remainder of their lives in confinement in small municipal towns in the Italian countryside. When the Senate finally consented to their repatriation around 150, the elder Roman statesman M. Porcius Cato marveled that there should be so much fuss over whether a few old Greeks would be buried in Italy or in their homeland.9 Polybius fared much better than most of the other hostages. Q. Fabius Maximus Aemilianus and P. Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, the sons of the great Roman general and conqueror of Macedonia, L. Aemilius Paullus, befriended the Achaean exile. Polybius enjoyed a particularly close relationship with Scipio Aemilianus, soon to become one of the most powerful Roman statesmen of his day.10 Based in Rome, Polybius apparently had considerable freedom of movement and other privileges during this period.11 Internal textual evidence suggests that he journeyed throughout Italy and that he perhaps visited Africa, Spain, and Gaul in the 150s, although technically still a Roman political prisoner.12 After the Roman sack of

6. On the Achaean Confederation, Aymard 1938a and 1938b remain fundamental; on the Greek federal state, Larsen 1955; 1968 passim, and 3 n. 1 for earlier literature; Walbank 1985: 20–37; Beck 1997 (limited to the fourth century): 55–66 on the Achaean Confederation; Urban 1979 on the Achaean Confederation from 280 to 222; Nottmeyer 1995, from 180 to 146; for the koinon after 146, see Larsen 1968: 498–504; Schwertfeger 1974; Kallet Marx 1995a: 42–96, esp. 76–82. 7. On Polybius’s policy, see, for example, 28.3.1–10, 6.1–9, 13.1–14; 29.23.1–25.7 (Ptolemaic appeal to the Achaean koinon in 169/168), with Nottmeyer 1995: 86. 8. See Liv. 45.35.1–3 for the crowd of hostages in Paullus’s triumphant entry into Rome (turba alia captivorum), with Mioni 1949: 9–14. Thessalian, Boeotian, Perrhaebian, Acarnanian, Epirote, and Aetolian suspects also were deported: 30.7.5–7; 32.5.6–7; Liv. 45.31.9, 34.9. 9. Deportation: Paus. 7.10.7–11; Plb. 30.13.1–11; 31.23.5–6; Liv. 45.31.9; the Senate refused repeated requests for the repatriation of the hostages: Plb. 30.32.1–12 (164); 32.3.14–17 (159); 33.1.3–8 and 3.1–2 (two embassies in 155); and 33.14.1 (153); Cato’s witticism: Plut. Cat. Mai. 9. 10. 31.23.1–30.4 for Scipio’s courageous and magnanimous youth and his training under Polybius; cf. 18.35.9–12; Diod. 31.26.5. 11. See 31.14.2–3 and 31.29.3–12 for Polybius’s hunting expeditions in the Italian countryside with Demetrius and Scipio Aemilianus, respectively, during the period of political exile. 12. See assembled references at Champion 1996: 316 n. 4, to which add Ziegler cols. 1459–60.

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Corinth in 146, he played an important role in international politics, as he was instrumental in the Roman resettlement of Greece.13 Polybius, then, endured several critical reversals of personal fortune. With extradition to Italy, a new chapter in his career unfolded, which included taking up the mantle of universal historian.14 In roughly twenty years, Polybius had moved from leading Achaean statesman to political prisoner at Rome to mediator in the Roman resettlement of Greece, becoming in this process a uniquely qualified universal historian of the unification of the Mediterranean basin under Rome’s aegis. In the period following the Roman victory over the Macedonian monarchy at Pydna, Polybius traveled in the circles of the Roman aristocratic cultural elite; he accompanied Scipio Aemilianus at the Roman siege of Carthage in the so-called Third Punic War; and he may have been present at Scipio’s siege of Numantia in Spain in 133.15 He was repatriated to Greece along with the other surviving Achaean hostages in late 150, earning high praise from his compatriots for his role in the reconstruction of Greece in the aftermath of the Achaean War with Rome. The second-century C.E. Greek traveler Pausanias saw honors erected for Polybius in Megalopolis and in other places throughout Greece celebrating the historian’s role as mediator between Greece and Rome.16 Polybius is said to have died from injuries sustained in falling from his horse on a hunting expedition at the age of eighty-two, probably in 118.17 Such is the biographical tradition on our author, fuller and more reliable than our evidence for many other writers of classical antiquity. The scholarly consensus, as we shall see, is that the great value of Polybius’s work is historical, not literary. Its author was a man intimately involved in high politics at a crucial juncture in world history, as he lived and wrote during the period in which Greece fell under political subjection to the expanding power of Rome.

The Histories and the Ancient Greek Historiographical Tradition Historians in Greco-Roman antiquity conventionally began their works by stressing the importance of their subject matter. This magnification of 13. 39.5.1–6, at least partially composed by Polybius’s posthumous editor, with Ziegler cols. 1456–58; cf. 12.5.1–3 (services to Italian Locrians). 14. Cf. 3.59.4–5 (allusion to former Greek statesmen turning to the solace of scholarship). 15. 38.19.1 (Plut. Mor. 200a): Scipio’s intimate military adviser. According to the emperor Julian, the historian personally formed part of a testudo to breach the walls at Carthage: 38.19a.1–4 (Amm. Marc. 24.2.14–17); see Dubuisson 1985: 261–62 for Polybius’s many contacts with Romans. 16. Paus. 8.30.8–9; cf. 37.2; Plb. 39.3.11–4.4, 5.2–6, 8.1–2; Paus. 8.9.2, 44.5, 48.8, with Ziegler cols. 1462–64; Mioni 1949: 14–15; Nottmeyer 1995: 159 n. 211. 17. [Lucian] Macrob. 22.225 J.

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theme (aGjhsi%, amplificatio) is evident in the works of Polybius’s two great predecessors in ancient Greek historiography. Herodotus states in his introduction that he writes so that the deeds of both Hellenes and barbarians may not be lost to human memory. His Histories, of course, recount the heroic resistance of the Greek poleis against the mighty power of the Achaemenid Persian empire. By Herodotus’s day, these events had already begun to grow to epic proportions in the collective Greek historical imagination. The men who had fought in the Marathon campaign took on a nearly superhuman status in the latter part of the fifth century; they were simply the Marathonomachoi, “those who fought at Marathon.” And Herodotus’s work is mainly responsible for the perpetuation of that heroic status for subsequent ages.18 Thucydides claims that in terms of its longevity and the level of preparedness of its combatants, the war between Athens and Sparta, the subject of his history, is of unparalleled significance. His account of this war is not meant for the passing tastes of a current fashion, he tells us; rather, he has written it as a work that will last forever. And of course Thucydides’ writings have set an historiographical standard in accuracy and concision for later generations of historians to emulate. The genius of these two historians has ensured that their works live up to the ambitious advertisements at their beginnings. Centuries after Herodotus and Thucydides, Josephus claimed at the opening of his history that the Jewish War, in which he was participant and eyewitness, was the greatest war of all.19 In this Greek historiographical tradition, Polybius’s history is no exception. In his opening chapter the Achaean historian underlines the significance of his account of Rome’s rise to world power with the following challenge to his reader: For who is so worthless or indolent as not to wish to know by what means and under what system of polity the Romans in less than fifty-three years have succeeded in subjecting nearly the whole inhabited world to their sole government (drxbn ^RvmaAvn)—a thing unique in history? Or who again is there so passionately devoted to other spectacles or studies as to regard anything as of greater moment than the acquisition of this knowledge?20

If we were to follow this tradition in a modern study of Polybius’s Histories, such an amplification of our historian and his work would be an easy task. The Histories rank among the most important literary remains of classical 18. Hdt. praef.; cf. 7.20.2–21.1 (unprecedented scale of Xerxes’ expedition). 19. Thuc. 1.1.1–3, 22.4–5 (cf. Plb. 9.1.2–2.7), 23.1–4 (dismissal of Persian Wars in comparison with Peloponnesian War); Jos. BJ 1.1, 7–9, with Marincola 1997a: 34–43, 216; cf. Lucian Hist. Conscr. 53. 20. 1.1.5–6; cf. 1.2.7, 4.1; 3.1.4–5, 1.9–10, 2.6–7, 3.9, 4.2–3, 118.9–10; 6.2.3–4; 8.2.3–4; 39.8.7–8. See 1.13.10–13 and 63.4–9 (magnitude of First Romano-Carthaginian War); cf. 5.33.4–5.

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antiquity. Polybius’s history provides far and away the most reliable account of a crucial period in world history; it is the clearest statement on the working principles and methodologies of ancient Greek historians; and it serves as an autobiography for one of the most fascinating political figures in ancient Greco-Roman history. The significance of Polybius’s history extends beyond the study of ancient history and historiography. Petrarch mentions Polybius among other Roman historians in his letter to Livy (Fam. 24.8); in modern times Polybius’s text first reappeared and became known in western Europe early in the fifteenth century. From that time onwards, the history has had a pervasive and abiding impact on western political theory. Machiavelli in the first book of his Discorsi appears to know of the cycle of constitutions, the blend of the three simple constitutional forms, and the distinction between Lycurgan Sparta, where the “mixed” polity was the work of one man, and republican Rome, where the same end came about through trial and error—all of which are treated in the sixth book of Polybius. But the Achaean historian’s influence here will have been indirect, through Livy and perhaps also through Niccolò Perotti’s Latin translation (1454) of books 1–5.21 Polybius’s political and military precepts were more directly influential in the works of Jean Bodin and Justus Lipsius and in Montesquieu’s L’esprit des lois, while John Dryden valued Polybius primarily as a model of virtue. He exhorted the young to read Polybius carefully, and to “imbibe him thoroughly, detesting the Maxims that are given by Machiavel and others.” Finally, Polybius has had an appreciable influence in the formation of American political ideas, though few seem to be aware of this. The importance of his theory of the “mixed constitution” and government with a system of checks and balances to the United States Constitution should be self-evident.22 Polybius was a prolific author who worked in various genres. In addition to the Histories, he composed an eulogistic biography of his Achaean compatriot and political hero, Philopoemen, a study of the Numantine War of 133, a work on military tactics, and perhaps a separate monograph on geography.23 These works, however, are no longer extant, and modern readers 21. Niccolo Machiavelli, Discorsi 1.2.2–7; Whitfield 1971; Mansfield 1979: 34–41 and n. 6; Salemi 1979; Garin 1990. A reference in Bernardo Rucellai’s De Urbe Roma (published before 1505) demonstrates that Polybius’s constitutional theory was known in Florentine intellectual circles before Machiavelli wrote the Discorsi; see Lintott 1999: 236–43, esp. 237 and n. 11. 22. Dryden’s comments are from “The Character of Polybius and His Writings,” in The History of Polybius . . . translated by Sir Henry Sheeres (London 1698), text as quoted at Eckstein 1995b: 17 and n. 75. See Momigliano 1987: 79–98 on the rediscovery of Polybius in modern Europe; on Polybius’s importance to the framers of the American constitution, see Chinard 1940; cf. Lintott 1999: 251–55; Momigliano 1987: 77. 23. Philopoemen: 10.21.5–8, with Errington 1969: 232–37; Numantine War: Cic. Fam. 5.12.2; military tactics: 9.20.4–5, with Walbank HC 2.148 ad loc.; equatorial regions (?): Geminus 16.12.

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must judge Polybius as historian and author on the basis of the surviving portions of his monumental historical work on Rome. Books 1–5 are intact, book 6 is nearly complete, and the rest survive in fragments, some of which are extensive.24 In terms of sheer quantity of text, the surviving portions of Polybius’s history are still much greater in length than both Herodotus’s and Thucydides’ writings. In the preface to his Latin translation of Polybius dedicated to Pope Nicholas V in 1454 and reprinted in the editio princeps of the Greek text (1530), Perotti called Polybius a “supreme orator” (maximus orator). His was a minority opinion. The merits of Polybius’s history do not lie in its literary qualities; indeed, in commenting on the deterioration of literary style, the critic Dionysius of Halicarnassus remarks that no one can endure reading works such as Polybius’s Histories to the end. Polybius’s prose style is that of the Hellenistic chancelleries. It is dry and matter-of-fact, and in his historiographical pronouncements he explicitly eschews rhetorical adornments.25 To Polybius’s mind the historian’s purpose is to educate and instruct both statesmen and the general reader, not to entertain.26 Although he employs some rhetorical devices, his statements on his lack of interest in rhetorical embellishments stand. Consequently, views of Polybius as literary stylist have changed little from antiquity to the present day. For example, Alfred Croiset’s modern assessment of Polybius’s style echoes the ancient judgment of Dionysius of Halicarnassus: In sum, Polybius has none of the essential qualities of a great writer. He lacks imagination and sensibility; he lacks a sense of proportion; he uses poor language. . . . His style is detestable.27

If Polybius has received low marks as a stylist, he has ranked in the forefront as a reliable and accurate historian. But in addition to its value as a his-

24. MS A (Vat. Gr. 124), its derivatives, and its collateral relatives preserve books 1–5 complete; the Excerpta Antiqua, headed by F (Vat. Urb. Gr. 102), are a continuous abridgment of books 1–18 and preserve most of the substantial portions of book 6 and fragments of books 7–18; fragments of the Constantinian excerptors of the tenth century c.e. are important from book 7 onwards: Sacks 1981: 11–20; Thompson 1985. On all matters of the textual transmission, see Moore 1965, with complete stemma of MSS at 171. On the arrangement of the fragments, Walbank HC 3.1–62. 25. FGrH 76 T 10 (Dion. Hal. Comp. 4), with Sacks 1981: 77–78; cf. Norden 1898: 152–55. 26. For Polybius’s rhetorical devices, see Foucault 1972: 225–42; Walbank 1990; Wiedemann 1990; for rhetorical coloring of key battles with Homeric overtones, D’Huys 1990. On Polybius’s indifference to a polished prose style, see, for example, 3.31.11–13, with Pédech 1964: 33–34. 27. Croiset 1899: “Au total, Polybe n’a aucune des qualités essentielles d’un grand écrivain. Il manque d’imagination et de sensibilité; il manque du sens des proportions; il parle une mauvais langue. . . . son style est détestable” (French text as quoted at Foucault 1972: 201, with further references to modern condemnations of Polybius’ prose).

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torical source, the history is invaluable for the evidence it provides on ancient Greek historiographical practice, as Polybius discusses historiographical standards and methodology more than any other ancient author. Polybius’s ideas on the prerequisites for the ideal historian are closely tied to his own career as statesman. He insists that the historian must be an intrepid traveler and inquirer with firsthand knowledge of geography and topography, and he must also be a man of affairs with wide-ranging experience in the arts of politics and war.28 In Polybius’s view, these are the criteria that establish the historian’s authority and credibility. The historian must be, in his conception, a man with the wide-ranging experience of an Odysseus, and, with allusion to Plato’s Republic, Polybius hopes that men of affairs will regard the writing of history as a noble enterprise to which they will dedicate lifelong, undivided attention.29 Polybius’s conception of historiography demands truth as the highest criterion in the historian’s craft, which explains his poor regard for those historians who put style first. He states his ideas on the role of truth in historiography explicitly early on in his work: For just as a living creature which has lost its eyesight is wholly incapacitated, so if History is stripped of its truth (CstorAa% dnaireueAsh% tp% dlhueAa%) all that is left is but an idle tale. We should therefore not shrink from accusing our friends and praising our enemies; nor need we be shy of sometimes praising and sometimes blaming the same people, since it is neither possible that the same men in the actual business of life should always be in the right, nor is it probable that they should always be mistaken. We must therefore disregard the actors in our narrative and apply to the actions such terms and such criticisms as they deserve.30

Polybius for the most part lived up to the high standards he set for himself. Where we can check his account against the epigraphical record, we gain confidence in the image of Polybius as a tireless and painstaking researcher, 28. 10.11.4 (autopsy at New Carthage); 12.25g.1–2 (criticism of bybliakoA, or bookworms), 28.3 (politician-cum-historian), 28.4–5 (history as a serious occupation). On Polybius’s travels and the increasing importance of geography in his historiographical conception, see Pédech 1964: 515–97. 29. Admiration of Odysseus: 12.27.10–11; cf. Paus. 8.30.8, with Walbank 1972: 51–52; Marincola 1997b; allusion to Plato’s Republic: 12.28.1–4. 30. 1.14.6–9 (trans. Paton, with slight modification); see also 12.12.1–3; 13.5.4–6; 16.17.9–10; 20.12.8; 34.4.2; Mioni 1949: 112–34; Ziegler cols. 1524–27; Walbank HC 1.10–14; 1972: 43–46; Mohm 1977: 92–120; Sacks 1981: 79–95 (on speeches); Champion 1996: 315 n. 2. On Polybius’s censure of historians who place entertainment before factual reporting, see Norden 1898: 81–83; Walbank 1972: 32–65; 1990; Vercruysse 1990; see also Walbank 1985: 224–41; Marincola 1997a passim for authority-claims in the classical historiographical tradition; and Champion 1996: 316 n. 4; 1997b: 112–17 for Polybius.

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an image we find in the historian’s own historiographical pronouncements.31 In both classical and early modern times, critics lauded both his credentials as a historian and his accuracy in the narration of historical events.32 His reputation among the ancients is all the more significant insofar as he wrote contemporary history, the most dangerous form of historiography, according to ancient opinion, in terms of individual bias.33 In antiquity, Polybius’s authority was such that Brutus was still working on an epitome of his writings on the eve of the battle at Pharsalus (Plut. Brut. 4.8). And his reputation for reliability and accuracy has spanned the centuries. Around the turn of the nineteenth century, one scholar viewed Polybius as a positivist historian from antiquity who adumbrated correct historical procedure for modern scholars.34 In more recent times, Toynbee described Polybius as “superhumanly objective” and compared him with the Enlightenment rationalist Gibbon.35 G. A. Lehmann has perhaps provided the most searching and sustained defense of Polybius’s impartiality and objectivity.36 In terms of historical objectivity and reliability, then, Polybius has ranked with Thucydides as a historian. As already noted, Polybius’s work is the only extant continuous historical account of an immensely important period in world history, Rome’s rise to Mediterranean hegemony, and it tells us a great deal about the working methods of ancient Greek historians. These facts, combined with Polybius’s difficult and crabbed prose style, have meant that modern researchers have used his text primarily as a source for reconstructing the political and military history of the Mediterranean world in the second century, and less often for the insights it provides into ancient Greek historiographical practice. Scholars have paid relatively little attention to Polybius’s narrative techniques as evidence for the ideological forces operating in his work. In this study I attempt to redress this relative lack of scholarly attention to Polybius’s actual narration, and to understand Polybius’s collective representations in treating the Histories as a political document.

31. Documentary evidence in Polybius: 3.33.17–18 (loc. class.); cf. Liv. 28.46.16 (inscription on Lacinian promontory); 7.9.1–17 (treaty between Hannibal and Philip V, a Greek translation of a Punic text apparently prepared in Hannibal’s chancellery), with Bickerman 1944; Ziegler col. 1564; to which add 3.56.4; 25.2.3–15, with Walbank HC 1.26–35; see also Nissen 1863: note at 106; Nemirovskii 1976/77: 62–66; Pédech 1964: 52 and n. 142, 377–89; Walbank 1972: 82–84. 32. E.g., Cic. Off. 3.113.7; Att. 13.30.2; Resp. 2.27.12, with Rawson 1991: 73; Liv. 30.45.5; 33.10.10; Jos. AJ 12.358–59; Ap. 2.84; Nissen 1863: 36–38 on Livy’s high regard for Polybius; Tränkle 1977: 222–28 for Polybius’s influence on Roman historiography; references to modern assessments at Champion 1996: 315 and n. 3. 33. See Plin. Ep. 5.8.12, with Luce 1989: 17, 25–27. 34. Pichon 1896 (I have been unable to consult this work). 35. Toynbee 1965: 2.472 n. 2; 411 and 504 (comparison with Gibbon). 36. Lehmann 1967 passim, esp. 349–59, with Nottmeyer 1995: 13 and nn. 10–14.

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Polybius as Indirect Historian James C. Scott’s description of “a politics of disguise and anonymity,” drawn from his study of “hidden transcripts” and forms of resistance to predominant power, encapsulates my approach to Polybius’s collective representations. I am primarily interested in the political import of disguised and encoded messages in Polybian historiography, and consideration of a typology for ancient historiographical techniques formulated in the nineteenth century will help to frame my approach in following chapters. This typology addresses the question of the nature of the narrator-speaker in the text and is but one strategic model with which to read Polybius’s text. Another approach, for example, would be to give greater attention to the perceptual relationships the author establishes with the reader; in other words, we might well ask not who speaks, but rather who sees.37 In his study of Polybius’s historiographical statements, K. S. Sacks identifies three types of historian: inwardly-directed, subjective, and indirect.38 The inwardly-directed historian is concerned solely with the recitation of historical events and the relationship of the historical characters to those events. For reasons that will become immediately apparent below, this notion, in its extreme form, is a purely hypothetical construct, but it is a useful device for beginning to think about ancient Greek historiographical approaches to narration. The inwardly-directed historian shows no apparent concern with the effects of the narration upon the reader, no outward-direction. The histories of Thucydides and Xenophon, where we find an extreme effacement of the author in the narrative, serve as exemplars of what appears to be inwardly-directed historiography. Sacks has appropriated the remaining two types, the subjective historian and the indirect historian, from Ivo Bruns’s 1898 study of the depiction of personality in classical historiography. According to Bruns, the subjective historian is outwardly-directed; the historian directly addresses the readership. These direct addresses in the historian’s own person may be either judgments passed on historical figures or methodological explanations. Herodotus’s history, in which we constantly encounter the narrator’s firstperson addresses to the reader, would be the classical model of subjective historiography. The indirect historian exhibits both inward- and outward-direction. There is a concern with reader response (outward-direction), but direct address is avoided. The historian relies on the narration of the events in order to make his point, and in this sense the work is inwardly-directed.39 37. Davidson (1991) studies such perceptual relationships in Polybius, which he calls the “gaze.” 38. Sacks 1981: 1–10. 39. Sacks 1981: 5: “[Indirect historians] wish to transmit a message to their readers, but do so indirectly, through the use of narrative exposition.”

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Scholars frequently have recognized Polybius as both an inwardlydirected historian and a subjective, outwardly-directed historian.40 On the notion of Polybius as inwardly-directed historian, we may contrast Polybius’s introduction with those of Herodotus and Thucydides. Unlike his predecessors, Polybius does not name himself at his work’s inception, nor does he give either patronymic or place of origin. There was precedent among ancient Greek historians for such omissions: Antiochus of Syracuse in the late fifth century does not state his place of origin, and in the fourth century Xenophon is entirely invisible as omniscient, third-person narrator in his Hellenica. Yet inclusion of this information at the outset of a work seems to have been a historiographical commonplace. Both Lucian and Velleius Paterculus, for example, even find fault with Homer for not having given his place of origin. The initial narrator in the Histories, however, is nameless. This effacement of the author at the opening of the work creates a seemingly omniscient, and objective, narrative voice; and in this sense we may regard the omission of any personal information on the author at the work’s inception as a narratological device that makes the Histories appear to be inwardly-directed.41 Inward-direction, as defined here in Bruns’s historiographical terms, was of course the prerequisite for the objective, “scientific” history of the nineteenth century. Lehmann’s emphasis on Polybius’s inward-direction, his fidelity to accurate reporting of historical events themselves without favortism or animus, as in the statement on historical truth in book 1 quoted above, stems from a long tradition reaching back at least to the great classical scholar Isaac Casaubon in the early seventeenth century. In 1610 Casaubon marveled at Polybius’s ability to report historical events with absolute candor and to narrate his history as if he were speaking about men with whom he had no personal connections. It is easy to understand why Polybius has been viewed as an inwardly-directed, objective, “scientific” historian. His frequent statements on his rigorous methodology and use of documentary evidence make him appear to be an exemplar from classical antiquity of a methodology that approaches the goal of the objective, “scientific” history of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.42 Most present-day historians, I suspect, would regard such a notion of “scientific” history as an antiquated curiosity, rooted in a romantic empiricism. To write a once-and-for-all history, hermetically sealed in its completeness, Leopold von Ranke’s history wie es eigentlich gewesen ist, does not now seem to 40. Cf. Marincola 1997a: 10: “The Polybian narrator combines a largely unobtrusive narrative of the deeds with a highly intrusive explicator of that narrative.” 41. Antiochus of Syracuse, FGrH 555 F 2; Xen. Hell. 1.1.1; Lucian Hist. Conscr. 14; Vell. Pat. 1.7.1, with Marincola 1997a: 271–75. 42. Casaubon’s text is printed in Schweighaeuser 1822: xxxii–xxxiii.

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be within the realm of possibility.43 Any historian in any period selects and orders the historical data from a societally determined set of preconceptions, some of which at least are most certainly beneath the author’s conscious threshold, in order to present a particular interpretation of the human past. Historians are subjective, not in Bruns’s sense, but in the more general sense of the term; that is, historical writings are of necessity always the product of a historically conditioned, percipient subject (and in this regard the present work is, of course, no exception). It is for these reasons, then, that few present-day historians could subscribe to the notion of something like a scientific, objective history in its most extreme form—historians are not monads who live and write in vacuums. As Benedetto Croce so acutely realized, historians are themselves products of their own times.44 Whether consciously or subconsciously, they choose their subjects and pose their historical questions largely as a result of the needs and concerns of the societies in which they live. In a review-essay of a work by Arnaldo Momigliano, a historian who was himself well aware of history’s function in contemporary society, M. I. Finley made the point succinctly as follows: It is a commonplace that every historian’s notion (conscious or subconscious) of his function is based on both the social and political situation in his own world and the literary and moral tradition he has inherited.45

Therefore, we should view the seeming inward-direction of Polybius’s historical narrative in the historiographical tradition from which it arose, rather than as a paradigm for an objective, “scientific” history. And in this agonistic context, Polybius’s inward-direction emerges as one of the text’s devices for establishing its own authority and credibility. Another device working toward the same ends is the direct, first-person address to the reader. In Bruns’s historiographical conception, the subjective historian makes no attempt to conceal the authorial presence, and, for him, Polybius was the consummate subjective historian. Polybius is subjective, in Bruns’s sense, in his categorical pronouncements in his own person. Indeed, Polybius is by far the most intrusive narrator among the ancient historians; he frequently interrupts his narrative in order to make first-person statements. These pronouncements take two basic forms: historical judgments on individuals or collectivities and statements on methodological principles.46

43. Cf. the statements of Lord Acton (1896) and Sir George Clark (1957), editors of the Cambridge Modern History, in Carr 1961: 3–4; see also La Capra 1985: 15–44. 44. On Croce, see Momigliano 1987: 345–63. 45. Finley 1975: 76; cf. Lehmann 1967: 359. 46. E.g., 2.60.3–8 (Aristomachus); 2.6.11–7.1, 7.5–6, 7.12–8.1 (Epirotes); 2.58.4–12 (Mantinea). The Constantinian manuscripts P and M probably preserve over 70 percent of Polybius’s outwardly-directed historiographical/methodological statements; see Sacks 1981: 11–20.

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In a passage of what we might call hypersubjectivity, unparalleled in classical historiography, Polybius pauses to discuss the various ways he has chosen to refer to himself. This passage more than any other illustrates Polybius as subjective historian, and therefore it warrants quotation in full: It should cause no surprise if at times I use my proper name in speaking of myself, and elsewhere use general expressions such as “after I had said this” or again, “and when I agreed to this.” For as I was personally much involved in the events I am now about to chronicle, I am compelled to change the phrases when alluding to myself, so that I may neither offend by the frequent repetition of my name, nor again by constantly saying “when I” or “for me” fall unintentionally into an ill-mannered habit of speech. What I wish is by using these modes of expression alternately and in their proper place to avoid as far as possible the offence that lies in speaking constantly about oneself, as such personal references are naturally unwelcome, but are often necessary when the matter cannot be stated clearly without them (mb dAnaton gllv% 2 dhlpsai tb prokeAmenon). Luckily I have been assisted in this matter by the fortuitous fact that no one as far as I know, up to the time in which I live at least, has received from his parents the same proper name as my own.47

We can learn a great deal from Polybius as outwardly-directed, subjective historian. In addition to some of the facts of his own biography, Polybius reveals much of his working methods, particularly in his reflections on the historian’s craft in book 12, and he frequently states what he believes to be both the usefulness and the purpose of history.48 And as we have seen, he explicitly states that he writes for both a Greek and a Roman readership.49 In particular, Polybius writes for aristocratic statesmen, the Greek and Roman ruling elite; and in this regard, I believe, we may safely concentrate on Polybius’s audience as the dominant culture of the political elite. And it is for this reason that I shall insist on referring to the aristocratic ideological contexts for the Histories. Polybius’s direct statements on methodology, historiographical conceptions, and intended audiences are invaluable to the interpretation of the Histories in the pages that follow. Yet the emphasis here will be on Polybius as indirect historian, in a somewhat different sense than in Bruns’s original formulation. Bruns chose Livy as the model for the indirect historian. Livy’s indirect method, according to Bruns, takes three forms: (1) characters are portrayed through the judgments of contemporaries, (2) through the effects of

47. 36.12.1–5, with Marincola 1997a: 189–92. 48. On book 12, see Sacks 1981: 21–78; on Polybius’s ideas on history’s purpose, Pédech 1964: 21–53; Petzold 1969: 3–20; Walbank HC 1.6–16; 1972: 6 n. 24, 66–96; and 1990; Sacks 1981: 122–70; Meissner 1986. 49. On Polybius’s intended audiences, see pp. 4 n. 5 and 7 n. 9.

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their actions upon others, or (3) through their utterances.50 In Bruns’s restricted sense, we cannot profitably consider Polybius as an indirect historian.51 Polybius is an indirect historian in a more general sense, insofar as he simultaneously writes historical narrative in a seemingly inwardly-directed fashion: that is, he appears to be concerned solely with reproducing events and creating their relationship to historical agents, and conveys his political orientations through the narration of these very events and relationships. In Polybius’s case, the historian often idiosyncratically punctuates his indirect historiography by surfacing as subjective historian in direct address to the reader in order to underscore the message of the historical narrative. A study of Polybius’s brand of indirect historiography would seem to be a most obvious approach to the Histories, considering the historian’s precarious situation as political exile among an alien, militarily and politically superordinate society, and the following chapters examine Polybius’s indirect historiography with a particular focus on the historian’s cultural construction of his hosts, the Romans. I am particularly interested in Polybius as indirect historian insofar as he conveys political messages through his collective representations of ethniccultural groups. Although Polybius’s collective representations have received relatively little scholarly attention, divisive or discriminatory group stereotypes occur frequently in the Histories. According to Polybius, Greeks surpass other men in estimating correctly the true value of things (5.90.8). Numidians, Libyans, Thessalians, Aetolians, Cretans, Achaeans, and Macedonians all have distinctive characteristics in battle.52 Polybius states that the Acarnanians as a people are more steadfast in their obligations than any other Greek people (4.30.4–5). Carians are a worthless and expendable people, as we learn in Polybius’s relaying of a proverb (10.32.11–12). Egyptians in general are savage in their cruelty (15.33.10–11), while the Alexandrians in particular are uncivilized but have some redeeming qualities insofar as they are of Greek origin and have not forgotten Greek customs (34.14.4–5). Innate Punic covetousness and lust for domination caused the discord among the Carthaginian commanders in Spain in 211 (9.11.2–3). Scipio Africanus was well aware of the insatiability and faithlessness of Numidians in matters both human and divine (14.1.4–5). The inhabitants of Coele Syria are more prone than other people to follow the dictates of the moment (5.86.9–10).

50. Bruns 1898: 18. 51. Inwardly-directed, subjective, and indirect historians are, as theoretical constructs, schematizations. They are useful when understood as indications of emphasis and/or predominance of approach. It is a matter of degree, not kind. Cf. the reservations on historiographical typologies at Marincola 1997a: 2–3. 52. 1.74.7 (Numidians and Libyans); 4.8.10–11 (Thessalians, Aetolians, Cretans, Achaeans, and Macedonians); cf. 5.44.4 and 7–8 (fighting qualities of Median tribesmen).

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Individual poleis may even have distinctive collective characters, as in the case of the Cynaethaeans, Selgians, and Gazans.53 But these representations were all informed by the politico-cultural vocabulary of Hellenism. We therefore begin with a rather large canvas upon which to situate Polybius’s indirect historiography of collective representations. In general terms, we may say that in ancient Greek thought, any collective stereotype emerged from a deeply ingrained, ethnocentric conception dividing humanity into two polarized camps: the world of the civilized Hellene and the world of the uncouth, non-Greek barbarian. Polybius’s group characterizations are in turn part of this larger discursive formation in ancient Greek thought. This basic dichotomy, the Hellenic-barbarian antithesis, almost always had political overtones in Greek cultural constructions, and it is to this bipolarity that we first turn in order to begin to develop an interpretative foundation for Polybius’s depictions of Romans, Achaeans, and other ethnic-cultural groups in his historical narrative. 53. 4.21.6–8 (Cynaethaeans); 5.73.8–9 (Selgians), with Ma 2000: 359; cf. Strabo 12.7.3 (C 571), which claims that the Selgians alone were never subject to any of the Hellenistic monarchs; 16.22a.2–7 (Gazans).

Chapter 2

Greeks, Romans, and Barbarians The Cultural Politics of Hellenism Night is here but the barbarians have not come. Some people arrived from the frontiers, and they said that there are no longer any barbarians. And now what shall become of us without any barbarians? Those people were a kind of solution. constantine p. cavafy, “Waiting for the Barbarians”

In this chapter I survey the cultural politics of the Greek/barbarian bipolarity, with special focus on second-century Greek and Roman politico-cultural interactions. My aim here is to provide a complement to chapter 1 in establishing an interpretative framework for reading Polybius’s collective representations. In the chapters that follow, I discuss the politico-cultural system of Hellenism from an instrumentalist or functionalist perspective, and here I have found Fredrik Barth’s discussion of ethnicity to be most helpful. For Barth, culture is an agglomeration of social boundary markers including religion, lifestyle, occupational status, and language. The important point for Barth is that culture, or at least certain aspects of it, may not be activated in a special interest group’s struggles for political, social, or economic advancement. In the Barthian sense of the term, on the other hand, ethnicity is a strategy that singles out certain features of a culture as ethnically significant and deploys them in the interests of the ethnic group. This group’s continuance is dependent upon the importance its members ascribe to maintaining its boundaries in order to advance the interests of the constituency. As my definition of “culture” in the introduction makes clear, however, I do not insist, as does Barth, that we make a sharp distinction between culture and ethnicity in this sense. Although we do not usually think of culture as including ethnicity’s galvanizing constructs of common ancestry and mythical homeland, my definition of culture has strong political dimensions and maps well onto Barth’s conception of ethnicity, and I use the terms “culture” and “ethnicity” virtually interchangeably. Barth maintains that ethnicity is above all attitudinal and selective; that it is the fluid result of an ongoing discourse, not of any primordial essence; and that its history is the outcome of 30

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the group’s ethnic strategies in interaction with other groups. These are crucial points in my understanding of Hellenism as an ethnic-cultural strategy. I maintain that Polybius’s representations of collective peoples reflect ethniccultural strategies at a crucial stage in Hellenism’s history, when Greek intellectuals responded to the realities of Roman power.1 From such a view of ethnic-cultural strategies, we should expect the ancient Greeks’ sense of “Greekness” to reveal itself in manifold ways in the course of their long history, as the Greek poleis oscillated between periods in which they were politically and militarily autonomous and other times in which they were subject to external authority. Ancient Hellenism was well equipped for the challenges presented by such historical vicissitudes; it constituted an ideological matrix offering nearly infinite possibilities for reformulation and redeployment. Fifth-century Athens, for example, reconfigured the designations “Hellene” and “barbarian” as connotative prompts for recollections of Athenian heroics in the Persian Wars and justification of empire (Thuc. 5.89). Following Alexander’s conquests, Hellenism’s historical stage was immense in geographical expanse and extremely diverse regionally and ethnically. Questions of ethnic-cultural identity and interaction were of an entirely different order in Antigonid Macedonia, Ptolemaic Egypt, and Hellenistic Cyrenaica.2 In the period of Hellenic cultural diaspora following the meteoric career of Alexander the Great, we find increasing evidence in the literary sources that Greek thinkers considered Hellenism to be a matter not of genealogy, but rather of education and acculturation. In the following survey I attempt to trace some of the broad outlines of ancient Hellenism as a politico-cultural discursive system. In the context of the ancient Greek construction of the Hellenic-barbarian dichotomy, we may begin to read Polybius’s collective representations, especially those of Romans and his native Achaeans, as historical traces of politico-cultural interactions between Greece and Rome.

The Cultural Politics of Hellenism before Rome THE ARCHAIC AND CL ASSICA L PERIODS: ON THE ORIGINS AND FUNCTIONS OF HELLENISM

A clear conception of the non-Greek other would appear to have been a prerequisite for the articulation of the bipolar politico-cultural system of Hel1. See Barth 1969; also Goudriaan 1992: 75–77; Østerg˚ard 1992: 36–38; cf. Patterson 1975: 308; Bourdieu 1977: 35. See Hall 2002 for a sharp conceptual distinction between ethnicity and culture. 2. See Bilde et al. 1992 for collected essays on the complexity of ethnic-cultural interactions in Ptolemaic Egypt; Colin 1994 contrasts Hellenistic Egypt and Cyrenaica; cf. Sherwin-White and Kuhrt 1993: 141–87 on the limits of Hellenization in the Seleucid empire. On ancient Greek constructions of ethnicity, see now Hall 2002; and collected essays in Malkin 2001 and Harrison 2002.

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lenism. We do not find much evidence for such a conception, nor do we find a well-articulated Panhellenism, in Geometric and early archaic Greece. Preclassical Greece certainly shows little evidence of a pervasive sense of a superior common Greek identity. Both Homeric epic and Hesiodic nonheroic, wisdom poetry support that assertion. Hellas as a topographical site appears five times in the Iliad, five times in the Odyssey, and once in the Hesiodic corpus.3 Homer uses the term “Hellenes” once, and the term “Panhellenes” once in a passage scholars generally regard as a later interpolation. As a rule we find more localized designations, such as Achaeans, Danaans, or Argives. “Barbarian,” the quintessential term for the non-Greek other in later periods, occurs only once in a compound form, where it carries no pejorative connotations.4 Likewise, Hesiod employs the term “Hellenes” only once, and the term “Panhellenes” once, the latter as a contrast to “sun-burnt peoples.”5 Neither the word “barbarian” nor any of its cognates appear in Hesiod. This doesn’t amount to very much. Moreover, while recent Homeric studies have discussed linguistic and cultural divides in the Iliad’s representations of Trojans and Hellenes, it is far from clear that Greek culture emerges as superior to Trojan culture in this text, or that we should read any sort of normatively prescriptive, evaluative force into these cultural differences.6 We find little evidence for anything like a collective Greek consciousness or an idea of non-Greek inferiority in the late Geometric and early archaic periods. Indeed, in these periods conceptions such as “citizen” and “alien,” as well as regional boundaries, had yet to be articulated.7 Flexibility, fluidity, and elasticity are apt words to describe ancient Greek constructions of self and others. By the classical period, shared language, Panhellenic oracular shrines and festivals, the Olympian pantheon of deities, and the Homeric epics as a common cultural possession, all acted to forge a sense of common Greek identity.8 Yet one should not overestimate the strength of this Panhellenic sentiment. Panhellenism in Greek antiquity always competed with the polis-bound parochialisms underlying the internecine warfare of the classical Greek states. Panhellenic sanctuaries paradoxically reinforced the insular polis community, channeling potentially 3. Il. 2.683; 9.395, 447, 478; 16.595; Od. 1.344; 4.726, 816; 11.496; 15.80; Hes. Op. 653. 4. Hom. Il. 2.530 (Hellene), 684 (Panhellene), 867 (barbarophonton). Thuc. 1.3.3–4 argues that there was no distinction between Hellenes and barbarians in Homer’s time; see also Strabo 14.2.27–28 (C 661–63). 5. Hes. frag. 9 M-W; Op. 528; see also Archil. frag. 102 W. 6. See Cartledge 1993: 13; Mackie 1996: 161. Nagy 1990: 191 discusses Panhellenic uses of Homeric epic in the age of tyranny; see Nagy 1989 for suggestions of a Panhellenic dimension to the Hesiodic treatment of Greek civil calendars. 7. See Polignac 1995: xiv. 8. Hdt. 8.144.2 (loc. class.); see also 1.4, 58, 60; 7.139, 145; 8.12, with Jones 1996; Ap. Ty. Ep. 71.1–4; cf. Hall 1997: 34–36, 44–45.

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disruptive aristocratic dedicatory practices away from the polis to remote and marginal locations. Indeed, the Delphic sanctuary did not act to break down interstate boundaries insofar as the visitor’s identity as citizen of a polis was not blurred here—he participated in the oracle through local representatives, or proxenoi.9 In the late archaic and early classical periods, mortuary practices, marriage conventions, and decorated finewares all served to articulate regional identities, promoting a communal solidarity whose horizons were confined by the bounds of the emerging polis-state.10 The poleis themselves varied in dialects, political organization and annual magistracies, religious rites and festivals, standardized weights and measures and calendrical systems; these variations precluded the development of any lasting Panhellenic political unity. Moreover, the polis community itself by no means provides an exhaustive model state for ancient Greece, as many Greek peoples lived in looser tribal and cantonal political systems, or as part of a koinon of federated states from the late fifth and early fourth centuries and throughout the Hellenistic period.11 There are further reasons for reservations regarding an ancient Greek Panhellenism. The great preponderance of our literary evidence suggesting a Panhellenic sentiment is the product of imperial Athens. This state of affairs makes it all too easy to interpret ancient Greek history through a distorting Athenocentric lens. To do so goes against the grain of current approaches in Greek archaeology, which focus on regional contextualization, and regional diversity is perhaps most apparent in the seemingly infinite variations of Greek religious practices.12 Athenian distortion is an important point to which we shall return in considering two key literary texts that stand at the inception of the formation of the articulated Hellenic-barbarian opposition. The very fact of Athenian imperialism, then, skews our evidence for a pervasive Panhellenism in the classical period. Panhellenism was a sporadic and ephemeral force. It peaked in extraordinary times: when there were prospects for united aggression, when the security of Hellas was threatened, or during periods of international tension and crisis for the collective Greek poleis. The great Persian invasions of the fifth century provided the first such situation, indelibly imprinted upon subsequent Athenian mytho-historical imagination. The impact of this historical experience on the Athenians’ mental universe seems to be almost incalculable, as these events became proper subject matter for tragedy, the province 9. See Morgan 1993; Sourvinou-Inwood 1990: 295–300; Green 1996. 10. Mortuary practices: Morris 1991: 43; 1992: 26–27; marriage: Osborne 1994: 93–95; ceramic evidence (Attica): Arafat and Morgan 1994: 108–9; Whitley 1994. For a general synthesis, see Morris 1987: 171–210. 11. See Larsen 1968; Morgan 1991; Walbank 1985: 1–19; Hansen 1996. 12. Morgan 1993: 18–19; Hall 1997: 100.

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of mythological topics, in Phrynichus’s Phoenissae and Aeschylus’s Persae; and Panaenus’s depiction of the battle at Marathon stood beside Polygnotus’s Iliupersis and other mythological scenes in the Stoa Poikile.13 Modern scholars, with good reason, have viewed the Persian Wars as the origin for the formation of a politico-cultural language based on a bipolarity of Greek and barbarian.14 The Greek victory against overwhelming odds apparently fostered Athenian self-confidence and notions that non-Greeks were in some profound sense inferior to Greeks. Yet I shall argue that in practical terms political needs dictated ancient Greek uses of the Hellenic-barbarian opposition and that the dichotomy served to effect assimilation with or differentiation from non-Greek external powers. These strategies arose from immediate and sometimes ephemeral circumstances, and a major theme of this chapter is the necessity of rooting both the shifting meanings and applications of Hellenism and barbarism in their particular historical contexts. Thucydides’ account of the Peloponnesian War, for example, generally ignores a Greek-barbarian antipathy as well as the important factor of Persian resources in the war’s latter stages, focusing instead on an Athenian-Spartan dichotomy; and there is some evidence that an Ionian-Dorian bipolarity had greater salience than the Hellenic-barbarian one in the Greek world in the last third of the fifth century.15 The historical context fostered this sort of bipolar ordering of the world: the fratricidal, prolonged struggle that was the Peloponnesian War revolved around the Dorian and Ionian superpowers, Sparta and Athens. But that dichotomous division fit a ready-made mold. Hellenic-barbarian, Ionian-Dorian, Athenian-Spartan—these sorts of strong oppositions were the stuff of the ancient Greek cognitive map. Deeply rooted organizing principles informed such bipolarities. In an attempt to formulate a general characterization of classical Greek thought, one would not go far off the mark in positing a basically agonistic discourse that constructs knowledge according to disjunctive polar oppositions and positive analogies. We may view many of the fifth-century intellectual productions often referred to collectively as the Greek Enlightenment or the Greek Renaissance, such as the Dissoi Logoi or 13. On Phrynichus’s Phoenissae and Aeschylus’s Persians, see Stoessl 1945; also Georges 1994: 76–114; Hall 1989: 56–100; 1996: 7–9 for further evidence of the Persian theme in tragedy and comedy. Panaenus’s Marathon in the Stoa Poikile: Paus. 1.15.3–4; 5.11.6; for variant attributions, see RE 4 A.1, cols. 18–19 (Hobein). 14. See Jüthner 1923: 1–22; Schwabl 1962; Diller 1962; Baldry 1965: 22–23; Dörrie 1972: 152; Pollitt 1972: 15–110; Hall 1989; Cartledge 1993; Georges 1994. But see Malkin 1998: 55–61 for arguments against the simplistic idea of an “oppositional” as opposed to an “aggregrative” ethnicity among the Greeks, with the historical experience of the Persian Wars serving as the watershed. 15. See Alty 1982 on a dichotomous ethnic consciousness in the fifth century based on Ionian-Dorian lines; cf. Thuc. 1.124.1; 5.9.1; 6.77.1; 7.5.4; Hall 1997: 37–40.

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Gorgianic simile and antithesis, as hypercharged illustrations of these dichotomous organizing principles in Greek thought. But structural anthropology would suggest that this doesn’t take us very far: systems of fundamental binary oppositions graph all cultures in all periods.16 It is, however, the degree to which ancient Greek thought expresses itself in such bifurcations that gives point to the general characterization. The Pythagorean Table of Opposites and the Empedoclean polarity of Love (Philia) and Strife (Neikos) are but two examples that forcefully demonstrate this dualistic method of constructing knowledge. Various cultures in various times and places exhibit dichotomous classifications of reality with elaborate opposition tables, but the Greek philosophers first explicitly formulated these oppositions in strongly evaluative terms, extending and developing this use of opposites into comprehensive systems.17 Aristotle states that all of his predecessors used opposites as principles, and by determining the precise conditions under which one of two opposites must be true, the other false, he went on to undermine the pre-Platonic assumption that to predicate any pair of opposites of the same subject must be a contradiction.18 Understanding the thought processes of his average fellow Greek, however, Aristotle was well aware that most people are incapable of such intellectual sophistication. Consequently, he recommends using questions that present a choice between a pair of inexhaustive contraries in order to gain admissions from opponents at law. On the other hand, Aristotle echoes a famous passage in Thucydides in endorsing the analogical view that, as a general rule, the future will be like the past. Plato’s successor as head of the Academy, Speusippus, elevated analogy, the concern with the common (homonoia), to a first principle of research. In ancient Greek historiography, the notion of a kind of historical homeostasis is one of the basic presuppositions that has caused so many interpretative problems for modern students of the Greek historians.19 These examples suggest the extent to which polarity and analogy permeated Greek thinking. Polarity and analogy informed the discursive politico-cultural system of ancient Hellenism. Examples of polarizing, negative collective stereotypes based on the Hellenic-barbarian divide in Greek authors are legion. Egyp16. Cf. Appadurai (1986: 12–13), who comments on the excessively dualistic methodological approach of much of anthropology itself; see also Herzfeld 1987: 95–96. 17. See Arist. Metaph. 984b32–985a10 (Empedocles); 1.986a22–986b8; Varro, Ling. 5.11 (Alcmaeon and Pythagoras on contraries); Heraclitus’s Ekpyrosis ap. D.L. 9.7–11; cf. Morris 1987: 193; Cartledge 1993: 13–16; and esp. Lloyd 1966: 62–63; and now Yunis 1998, esp. 234–40. 18. Arist. Ph. 188b26–192b4; also Pl. Resp. 436b5–437a8, with Lloyd 1966: 140. 19. Arist. SE 174a40-b7; Rh. 1394a6–8; 1360a1–5; De Gen. et Corr. 336b34–338b19; Thuc. 1.22.4, with Lateiner 1989: 214; on the Herodotean kyklos, Lateiner 1989: 197, with qualifications at 221–22; Gadamer 1975: 389–90 on Speusippus’s method of analogy. See Petzold 1977 for “cyclical” and “linear” time in Polybius.

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tians are savage, venal, and covetous; Carthaginians practice human sacrifice; Gauls are given over to drink and passionate, irrational outbursts; and Etruscans are renowned for their cruelty and love of luxury. Cowardly Phrygians, another luxury-loving people, epitomize barbarian timidity and stand as the polar opposite to Hellenic martial prowess. Thracians, though of a spirited nature, are childlike, and for Androtion the idea of Orpheus’ Thracian provenance is an absurdity. According to Diodorus, Ligurian women have the muscularity and physical capabilities of men, while Ligurian men have the superhuman strength of wild beasts.20 Although these collective characterizations are articulations of a larger discursive formation, the dichotomous ordering of the world into civilized self and rude and uncouth other, I am arguing that their nuances, variety, and instability are of the highest importance for the purposes of historical analysis. While the terms “Hellene” and “barbarian,” representing eternally opposed essences, were not subject to much semantic instability, the dichotomy itself was manifold in its political deployment; the referents of the Hellenic-barbarian antithesis were open to constant alteration and modification. In the context of the Persian War experience, we can perceive the fluid and ambiguous nature of its applications. Since, as we have seen, scholars have taken the Persian Wars as a historical watershed in Greek ideas of self-identity and the very impetus for the formation of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity itself, such a statement requires brief discussion and justification. Here I turn to two literary texts, frequently cited in discussions of the impact of the Persian Wars on Greek cultural perceptions. In the immediate aftermath of the Persian Wars, we should expect to find Persians depicted in the most unambiguously pejorative terms in Greek texts. And on a certain level, both in literature and in the visual arts, this is what we find. As far as we know, contemptuous references to the Mede were never deleted from the Athenian assembly’s prayers, and late in the fourth century Demosthenes pointed to the spoils from the Persian invasions as visible proof of Hellenic superiority.21 But utter contempt for Persians is not the case on all registers. In the two major classical texts on the Persian Wars and closest to them in time of composition, Aeschylus’s Persians and Herodotus’s Histories, Persians are given a sympathetic hearing. The bibliography on these two seminal and complex works is of course enormous, and the brief discus-

20. E.g., Egyptians: Pl. Resp. 436a; Carthaginians: Diod. 20.14.4–7; Plut. Mor. 171c–d, with Lancel 1995: 197, 233, 248–51; Barceló 1994; Gauls: Diod. 5.26; Cic. Pro Font. passim, with Woolf 1998: 60–67, esp. 61–62, 177–78; Etruscans: Alcimus, FGrH 560 F 3; Diod. 5.40.3–5; Ath. 4.153d, 12.517d–518b; Phrygians: Ar. Av. 1244–45; Eur. Hec. 492; Tro. 994–96, 1074–76; Or. 1349–52, 1448, 1483–85; Thracians: Pl. Resp. 435e; Arist. [Pr.] 911a2–4; Androtion, FGrH 324 F 54; Hall 1989: 102–13, 121–33; Ligurians: Diod. 5.39.1–6. 21. Ar. Thesm. 337, 365; Isoc. 4.157; D. 22.13.

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sion of them here is restricted to their relevance to the present argument. Aeschylus’s Persians certainly displays stereotypes of Persian effeminacy, emotionality, and even cowardice,22 and indeed, Edward Said turns to this play for his first quoted illustration of Orientalism.23 In the Persians, the Persian army becomes, through the trope of synedoche, the entire barbarian army (255), the Persian fleet becomes the barbarian fleet (337–38; also 423), and Persian terror is barbarian terror (391–92). The war itself is a struggle between Zeus’s land of Hellas and Asia (270–71), and the poet contrasts Hellas with the generic “barbarian land.”24 Yet other passages stand in stark opposition to these images, leading to a cognitive complexity that marks inescapable ambiguity, one of the characteristic modes of Greek tragedy. While Greece and Asia are realms in opposition to one another, they are in the end twin sisters (185), and the Great King Darius is a descendant of the Greek mythological hero Perseus.25 As Aristotle states, the catharsis of tragedy entails the audience’s pity and fear for the tragic figure, and recognition of oneself in the dramatic character elicits the fear. It must necessarily follow that in the Persians the characters share the same humanity as their Greek audience.26 Complete reversal of fortune, or peripeteia, is a driving force in Greek tragedy, and nowhere is the protagonist’s fall more awesomely displayed than in this play.27 Darius, as a foil to the impetuous Xerxes and a font of wisdom and restraint, is a crucial dramatic figure for my argument.28 His character is a fine illustration of the historical contingencies of Greek stereotypes: it is difficult to believe that Darius could have been characterized in this way some two decades earlier, when he was mounting the expedition for the Marathon campaign. In this regard we may compare the Greeks’ anger against King Pausanias of Sparta 22. See Hall 1989: 79–84; Georges 1994: 76–114. Bacon (1961: 62–63) argues for a more nuanced and differentiated treatment of barbarians in Aeschylus. 23. Said (1978) 1994. 24. Pers. 186–87; see also 721–26, 744–51. For suggestions that an “Oriental” barbarian stereotype has distorted both classical Greek and modern historiography on the Achaemenid empire, see Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1987a: 33–45; 1978b: 117–31; Kuhrt and Sherwin-White 1987: 69–78. 25. Pers. 79–80, with schol. M ad v. 79 D; see also Hdt. 7.61, 150, with Gruen 1998: 253 n. 30; Hellanicus FGrH 4 F 59–60; Nic. Damasc. FGrH 90 F 6. Diod. 4.56.1 gives Medus as son of Medea and Aegeus, father of Theseus. 26. Arist. Poet. 1449b26–28; 1453a1–7; see Vogt 1972; Thalmann 1980: esp. 281–82; Hall 1996: 17 and nn. 96–97 for other subscribers to a “sympathetic” interpretation of the play’s universality. But see now Harrison 2000, who seeks to restore a patriotic triumphalism to the play. 27. Arist. Poet. 1450a32–34; Pers. 590: basileAa . . . dialvlen DsxA% (“the kingly power has perished”). 28. Darius as a general who preserved lives (652–56, 858–63); law and order under Darius’s rule (739–51, 800–42, 852–57); Darius as foil to Xerxes (652–55, 782–86, 852–906); see also Pl. Phaedr. 258c1; Lg. 695c–d.

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for adopting Persian attire, at a time when Persia must have seemed a very real threat, with the later Athenian adoption of Persian items of dress.29 Herodotus’s historical writing is a complex network of empirical research, theory, autopsy, and literary topoi.30 Here we may leave aside the debate on the work’s historical accuracy and focus on the representations of Persians qua barbarians and of Greeks.31 Herodotus routinely subverts the normative, evaluative terms of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity. His cultural relativism is well known and much discussed,32 but it is particularly noteworthy that Greeks and barbarians are placed on a equal footing at the outset (1.1). Distinctions between Greek and non-Greek break down as the work progresses: the first barbarian for whom we get any detailed information is the Hellenized Lydian king, Croesus; the divisions of lands customary among the Greeks that separate Greek and non-Greek peoples are purely arbitrary (4.45); we learn of the Phoenician descent of Sparta’s kings (4.147.2); and Herodotus states that the descendants of Perseus came to be counted as Greeks (6.53; see also 2.91.2–6). The key dichotomy is not the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity, but rather the opposition of the ordered society based on law and the arbitrary rule of the despot (see esp. 5.78; 7.104). But political and social institutions are fragile structures, and Herodotus gives no guarantee that the Greek superiority at the time of the Persian Wars, which was based upon those institutions, will last (see 1.5). In fact his work closes on an ominous note that appears to warn imperial Athens that it is in danger of becoming, if it has not already become, the barbarian. We are presented with the gruesome picture of the crucifixion of the Persian satrap Artaÿctes at the command of the Athenian commander Xanthippus, father of Pericles, and a piece of wisdom from the Persian founding father, Cyrus, on the dangers of success and affluence.33 And it is well to remember that Herodotus wrote long after the Persian threat had passed, when Athenian imperial power was at its apogee. Aeschylus’s Persians and Herodotus’s historical writing, then, undermine the idea of an impenetrable fifth-century Athenian evaluative boundary 29. Pausanias: Thuc. 1.130; for Perserie at Athens, see Miller 1997. 30. Cf. Nippel 1990: 11–29; Flory 1987. 31. Cf. Hartog 1988: 2–11; see Pelling 1997 on Herodotus’s contestation of a facile Greekbarbarian bipolarity. 32. 3.38 (loc. class.); see also 2.158 (Greeks as barbarians from an Egyptian perspective); Forrest 1984: 1 (“superhuman open-mindedness”); Lateiner 1989: 16, 141 (“cultural relativist”); Momigliano 1966: 122 (“fair-minded traveller”); Hartog 1988: 369: “What is surprising is that, more often than not, the first-person plural, we, is replaced by the third-person plural: not we, but the Greeks . . . the ‘others’ and the Greeks, the barbarians and the Greeks, them and they.” 33. Artaÿctes: Hdt. 9.120, with Boedeker 1988; see also the sacrifice of three of Xerxes’ young relations to Dionysus Eater of Raw Flesh after Salamis: Plut. Them. 13.2; Arist. 9.1–2. Cyrus: Hdt. 9.122; Antisthenes ap. D.L. 6.2 (Heracles and Cyrus as models of virtue).

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between Greek and non-Greek, at least as far as the world of literary representations goes.34 It certainly would be methodologically indefensible to posit a facile causal relationship between historical events and the ambivalent application of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity in these two literary texts. On the other hand, there are no texts that are hermetically sealed off from their politico-historical environments, and it is worth reiterating that in terms of the political realities of their time of composition, both Aeschylus’s Persians and Herodotus’s Histories could afford to relax the barbarian stereotype. The Persian threat had largely passed. I believe that this is significant, as both works are primarily addressed to an Athenian audience in a period when imperial Athens was at the height of self-confidence and could apparently countenance this sort of cultural ambiguity. It is also well to remember that the situation at Athens from the time of the victory at Salamis down to the end of the Peloponnesian War in no way represents anything like a typical ancient Greek experience. The polis of imperial Athens enjoyed a period of affluence and security through strength as few others in all of ancient Greek history.35 Most Greek states, and particularly many of the colonial foundations outside of the Greek homeland, had a much more precarious existence, with strong and potentially hostile powers, either Greek or non-Greek, at their doorstep. There was greater need here for sensitive diplomacy and the deployment of Hellenism for interstate political gain. In the archaic period, extraurban and frontier sanctuaries in colonized areas sometimes proclaimed Greek conquest and territorial control at the expense of the indigenous populations. Frequently, however, these ritual sites served as points of contact between Greek and non-Greek. If rural sanctuaries marked the boundary between Hellene and barbarian, that boundary was porous, allowing cultural interchange and the adoption of Hellenism by the native elites.36 Many Greeks of the classical period, then, found themselves in a more delicate relationship with non-Greeks than did fifth-century Athenians, and they were called upon to exercise sensitively the cultural politics of Hellenism. These observations should by no means suggest that classical Greeks were immune to a strong sense of cultural superiority over non-Greek peoples. We have already canvassed negative Greek stereotypes of particular non-Greek peoples; evidence for Greek cultural snobbery abounds in the sources. The 34. Balcer 1983 discusses fifth-century cultural interactions among Athenians, Persians, and Ionian Greeks; cf. Mosley 1971. 35. For anomalies in Athens’s preclassical development, see Hopper 1976: 156–87 (an “abnormal state”); Morris 1987: 205–10; Polignac 1995: 81–88 (Athens exceptional as a “monocentric city”). 36. See Polignac 1995: 106–27 (“mediatory cult sites”); cf. Whitehouse and Wilkins 1985 (on problems of interpretation); 1989; Arafat and Morgan 1994: 127–28 (Metapontum and Tarentum). See now collected essays in Dougherty and Kurke 2003.

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criteria for Hellenism, however, underwent significant change from the midfifth to the mid-fourth century, with “primordialist” genealogical Hellenic legitimacy giving way to “constructivist” claims to Hellenism through paideia. Yet the indicia remained fairly constant: demonstrable mastery of the Greek language and familiarity with Greek cultural forms.37 Although the career of Alexander the Great signaled a cultural diaspora of Hellenism and an unprecedented level of social interaction between Greek and non-Greek peoples, in the emergence of the Hellenistic world we find continuity in the political and socioeconomic advantages of Hellenism. ARGEADS AND ANTIGONIDS: MACEDONIAN POWER AND THE BARBARIAN CATEGORY

As argued above, Panhellenic sentiments and calls for a united Hellenic front against the barbarian in ancient Greece were most pronounced in extraordinary times of military and political crises. The Persian Wars were the first events of this order. Macedonia’s rise in the fourth century represents the next such monumental convulsion in the Greek historical experience. Ancient Greek cultural constructions of the Macedonians were far different from some modern ones, where the Macedonian kings Philip II and Alexander III have become revered icons in contemporary nationalist debates.38 The Macedonian monarchy succeeded in exerting a lasting political influence on the Greek world. Interstate political autonomy, as Greeks of the archaic and early classical periods would have understood it, was drastically diminished in 338 on the battlefield of Chaeronea.39 Macedonian power had come to stay. For the first time a power outside the Greek homeland encroached upon Greek political liberties for an extended period, forever compromising independent political action in the Greek states. And although the Macedonians could make a case for belonging to the Greek world, and their rulers, like the neighboring Molossian dynasts, had since the fifth century engaged in a conscious promotion of their Hellenism, the political and socioeconomic structures of the Macedonian monarchy were in many ways alien to the urbanized life of the Greek poleis.40 Yet the Greek politico-cultural response ran along the familiar lines of the principles of polarity and analogy; that is, Macedonians either became legitimate Greeks, as in Isocrates’ exhortations in the Philippus and Epistles for a 37. E.g., Hdt. 8.144 and Isoc. 4.50; criteria and indicia: Horowitz 1975, with Hall 1997: 20–21. See now Hall 2002 passim. 38. See Brown 1994; Danforth 1995: 30–55 and references at 49 n. 18, 163–74, 246; see also 189 ill. 12; and assembled references at Borza 1999: 28 n. 3. 39. The island republic of Rhodes is a notable exception; cf. Habicht 1997: 366–67. 40. Cf. Toynbee 1965: 1.14. For Molossian claims to Hellenism through mytho-genealogical connection to Achilles, see Pi. Nem. 7.64; cf. Plut. Pyrrh. 1, with Beck 1997: 138 n. 17.

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Panhellenic expedition against the eastern barbarian and Speusippus’s Letter to Philip,41 or the Macedonians were themselves cast as the barbarian in place of the Persians, as in Demosthenes’ scathing indictments of Philip II as barbaros (9.31; 3.24). Indeed, the two great Athenian political rivals, Demosthenes and Aeschines, demonstrate the labile quality of the barbarian designation. Demosthenes could drop the barbarian category altogether in advocating an Athenian alliance with the Great King against a power that ranked below any so-called barbarian people, the Macedonians (10.31–34). In the case of Aeschines, Philip II could be “a barbarian due for the vengeance of God,” but after the orator’s embassy to Pella in 346, he became “a thorough Greek . . . devoted to Athens.”42 It all depended upon one’s immediate political orientation toward the northern power,43 but Greek cooperation with Macedonia, which many Greeks instinctively scorned, was always infused with deep-seated ambivalence.44 In the great political trial of strength between Demosthenes and Aeschines in 330, the case against Ctesiphon of Anaphlystus, Demosthenes’ victory seems to have signaled Athenian approval of the orator’s anti-Macedonian politics. In the following decade, the hasty departure from Athens of Aristotle, a Macedonian, a former tutor of Alexander, and a man who named the hated Antipater as executor of his will, upon the news of the king’s death is an index of anti-Macedonian feeling there.45 In the immediate aftermath of Alexander’s death, Greeks fought for Hellenic freedom, likening Macedonians to the barbarian Persians. Modern scholars commonly refer to this conflict as the Lamian War, but epigraphical evidence shows that contemporaries knew it simply as the “Hellenic War.”46 It may well be that the pro-Macedonian historian Hieronymus of Car41. Markle 1976 studies political motivations and target audiences; on Speusippus’s letter, see now Jones 1999: 40–41. 42. D. 19.305, 308, with Cawkwell 1996: 105. 43. E.g., Isoc. 5.16, 130, 154; 9.19, with Momigliano 1933; Canfora 1994; Philostr. VS 1.9.493–94 (Gorgias’s Olympian Oration and Athenian Funeral Oration); Arist. Rhet. 1414b30–35; Diod. 18.10.3; Plut. Mor. 329b–d; D. 3.17, 20, 24; 9.30–31 (a representative sample), with brief discussion at Kapetanopoulos [1993] 1995: 20–21 (appendix D); for a late fifth-century prototype, see Thrasymachus’s charge against Archelaus: DK6 85 B 2, with Kapetanopoulos [1993] 1995: 23–24 (appendices K–L); further references at Badian 1982: 35 n. 18. For concise accounts of Macedonian ethnicity, see Borza 1996; 1999: 27–49; and now Hall 2001. 44. Aratus’s apologetics (Plut. Arat. 38) for his approach to Antigonus Doson against Cleomenes III indicate strong Greek resentment; see also Plut. Cleom. 16. For Greek-Macedonian interethnic conflicts, see Borza 1996: 131–32; on Polybius’s ambivalent views on Macedonia, see Walbank 1970. The Demosthenic text of the late 330s, On the Treaties with Alexander, dwells upon Macedonian treachery and illegalities: [D.] 17, with Habicht 1997: 21 and n. 29. 45. D.L. 5.11, with Habicht 1997: 37 and n. 4. 46. Fight for Hellenic freedom: IG II2 467.7–8; the “Hellenic war”: IG II2 448.40–51; Syll.3 317.6–19 (Austin HW no. 26), (Euphron of Sicyon); IG II2 505.17; 506.9–10; Habicht 1997:

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dia, writing after Athens had capitulated to Macedonia in the later rebellion of the 260s known as the Chremonidean War, shunned the designation “Hellenic,” with all the emotive force lying behind it of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity, in favor of the blander term “Lamian.” In any event, this resistance movement of the late 320s was swiftly crushed within a year at Crannon in Thessaly and in the naval battles at Abydos on the Hellespont and off Amorgos, and a Macedonian garrison installed in the Piraeus kept order in Athens. But it would not be the end of Athenian attempts to throw off the Macedonian yoke, nor would the associations of Macedonians with barbarians quickly fade in the Greek historical imagination. Nearly half a millenium after the Hellenic, or Lamian, War, the periegetic writer Pausanias could align the Battle of Chaeronea and the Lamian War with the third-century invasions of the barbarian Celts against Greece as paradigmatic examples of heroic struggles for Greek freedom.47 Hellenistic Athens provides our best evidence for Greek antipathy toward the northern power. The hated Macedonian viceroy in Greece, Antipater, who had perhaps served as Alexander’s scapegoat for the socioeconomic catastrophe in Greece resulting from the king’s exile decree of 324, died in 319. But Athenian hatred of Macedonia did not abate. In the autumn of 318 Athenian democrats rose in revolt once again, executing the collaborative, pro-Macedonian junta, the pliant statesman Phocion being among the casualties.48 Athens, then, is an amply documented center of resistance to Macedonia, but the Athenians did not stand alone in opposition to Macedonian suzerainty over Greece. The desperate allied Greek resistance, in part underwritten by Ptolemy II Philadelphus, against Pella in the Chremonidean War (ca. 268–263/262), was a Panhellenic undertaking. The Chremonides decree invokes the cause of freedom of all Hellenes and employs the language of barbarism. It equates the Macedonians with the enemies against whom the Athenians and Spartans united in the past, clearly a reference to barbarian Persians, and it refers to those lawless treaty-breakers who are attempting to dissolve the ancestral laws of the Greeks.49 36–42; see bibliography of modern works on the war at Ste. Croix 1981: 301 (609–10) n. 2; for Aetolian involvement, see now Scholten 2000: 17 and nn. 65–66. Macedonians qua Persians: Hyp. Epit. cols. 12–13, with Ashton 1984: 154 and nn. 18–21; see also Plut. Arat. 16.3–4; Will 1984: 30–32; Hammond and Walbank 1988: 107–17. 47. Paus. 4.28.2–3 (Messene); 7.6.5–7 (Achaea); 8.6.2–3 (Arcadia); 10.3.4 (Phocis), with Habicht 1985: 106–7. Ashton 1984 for Hieronymus’s revisionist version of the war and the suggestion that he renamed it “Lamian” 48. Diod. 18.8.4, 64–67; Plut. Phoc. 31–38; Nep. Phoc. 3–4; Syll.3 317 (Austin HW no. 26); Green 1990: 36–51. For Athens in the postclassical era, see now Habicht 1997. 49. Ptolemaic support: SVA III, 476.16–22; Chremonides decree: SVA III, 476.8–16, 31–33, with Habicht 1992: 72; 1997: 144: “The king of Macedonia is indirectly branded as a new Xerxes”; cf. Habicht 1992: 73 and n. 30, and 1997: 156 and n. 23 (Glaucon decree).

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In these themes the Chremonides decree resembles the Coan proclamation of thanksgiving for the defeat of the barbarian Gauls before the Delphic sanctuary in 279 (Syll.3 398); only the designation “barbarian” is missing from the Athenian decree. Beyond Athens, it is not fanciful to think that resistance to Macedonia constituted a large part of the Achaean Confederation’s raison d’être in the third century (Plut. Arat. 25–9), and the bold Achaean seizure of the Acrocorinth, masterminded by Aratus of Sicyon at the expense of the aged Macedonian monarch Antigonus Gonatas in 243, provides further evidence for a seething Greek resentment of the Macedonian domination. As we have seen, Greeks frequently expressed this resentment in the familiar language of the politico-cultural divide between Hellene and barbarian.50 As Hellenistic society and culture evolved and Greek language and art were dispersed throughout the lands to the east in a Hellenic cultural diaspora, the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity, mutatis mutandis, remained the large template for mapping out civilized life against the unregenerate morass. As we should expect from recent cultural studies, however, this was not a oneway street. The Bactrian monarch Agathocles/Agathuklayasa, whose coinage reveals the confluence of Greek and Indian culture, serves as a prime example.51 Yet throughout the Hellenistic period the cultural designations of Greek and barbarian remained convenient, politically charged labels for commendation and condemnation, respectively. HELLENISM AND BARBARISM IN THE HELLENISTIC WORLD

It is difficult to make valid generalizations about a civilization as far-flung and ethnically diverse as the Hellenistic world, the Hellenistic period extending, according to traditional chronological termini, from Alexander’s death in 323 to Octavian’s naval victory over Antony and Cleopatra at Actium in 31. Most attempts at generalization will not stand up to close scrutiny. Yet two general statements on the Hellenistic period possess what comes close to something like universal validity: (1) Hellenism appealed most to the wellto-do and struck its deepest roots among the local non-Hellenic Oberschicht, the upper classes of non-Greeks living in territories under the suzerainty of the Hellenistic monarchs; (2) the influence of Greek culture was far more

50. See Champion 1995 for a comparison of the Coan decree of 279 with Aetolian propaganda, playing on the Greek-barbarian theme, establishing the penteteric Soteria at Delphi; Acrocorinth: Plut. Arat. 16, 18–24; 38: mb palin tbn Pelopannhson Dkbarbarpsai froyraP% Makedanvn (“not to have ‘barbarized’ the Peloponnese again with Macedonian garrisons”); Polyaen. Strat. 6.5; Walbank 1984a: 251. 51. See Holt 1993a: 1–7 and 1999 passim; Sherwin-White and Kuhrt 1993 passim for eastern influences in the Seleucid empire.

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extensive in urban areas than in the countryside.52 Indeed, Alexander allegedly founded over seventy cities (Plut. Mor. 328e), and recent studies indicate that in the Hellenistic period the polis, in addition to being the cultural locus of Hellenism, was a more effective political organ than some scholars have assumed. While the autarky we customarily associate with fifthcentury Athens was gone forever, the old idea that the rise of the Hellenistic monarchies spelled the death of the polis in a political sense is a gross simplification and in its extreme form must be discarded.53 In the Hellenistic period, socioeconomic dependence of non-Greeks upon Greek overlords encouraged the assimilation of the former to Greek cultural forms. The attainment of Greek culture, particularly in urban areas, was a prerequisite for social and economic success.54 At the upper echelons of power, few nonGreeks gained entry into the inner circle of the Hellenistic royal councils.55 S. Sherwin-White and A. Kuhrt have argued that the evidence of nomenclature, upon which Chr. Habicht based his 1958 study, is unreliable for determining the ethnic background of Seleucid officials. Yet the fact that some individuals of non-Greek origin and ethnically mixed backgrounds attained positions of power and responsibility in the Hellenistic monarchies only strengthens the point I wish to stress here—the assumption of Greco-Macedonian names by these people attests to the preponderant cultural weight of Hellenism in their world.56 It is true that the priest Berossus compiled a Greek digest of Babylonian wisdom literature dedicated to Antiochus I Soter, and Ptolemy I Soter ordered the Egyptian priest Manetho of Sebennytus to compose an Aegyptiaca in Greek. But we should perhaps view these incidents as anomalies, at least until late Ptolemaic times.57 The Hellenistic monarchs were first and 52. See Musti 1984: 216–17; Davies 1984: 296–320 on regional diversity and the ubiquitous village communities in inland areas in the Hellenistic period; cf. Ste. Croix 1981: 17. 53. See the comments of Eckstein 1997b. For sensitive treatment of political interaction and negotiation between Hellenistic monarch and Greek city, see now Ma 1999 on Seleucid Asia Minor; and Ma 2000 on the military capabilities of Hellenistic poleis. 54. See the mijAllhne% (“semi-Hellenes”; see also Hdt. 4.17), listed as a separate group in a decree ca. 230 from Olbia on the Black Sea coast: Syll.3 495.114 (Austin HW no. 97). But Hellenic identity was not a guarantee of special status, as the unprivileged Greeks, who appear in Alexandrian inscriptions, attest: Fraser 1972: 1.51. 55. Habicht 1958: 5–16; Walbank 1984c: 70 on Macedonian monarchs’ philoi; Turner 1984: 125–26 on the Alexandrian court under Ptolemy I Soter (305–283); cf. Herman 1997. For “Orientals” in Alexander’s army, see Badian 1965; for Iranian commanders under the Diadochi, see Briant 1973: 56 n. 8; also Holt 1993a: 46 and n. 144; for successful native Egyptians at the Ptolemaic court, see Kasher 1992: 106–7; cf. Sherwin-White and Kuhrt 1993: 123. 56. See Sherwin-White and Kuhrt 1993: 121–25; cf. 150–53; Sherwin-White 1987: 4–8; van der Spek 1987: 69 n. 21 for cuneiform texts of Babylonians with Greek names. 57. Berossus: FGrH 680 T 2, with Kuhrt 1987; Manetho: Plut. Mor. 361f–362a; Georgius Synkellos, Ecloga Chronographia 72–73 M; Fraser 1972: 1.505–11.

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foremost the custodians and promoters of Hellenism. A passage in Plutarch is suggestive in this regard. The biographer states that in the three-hundredyear history of the Ptolemaic dynasty in Egypt, Cleopatra VII was the first ruler to learn the native language (Ant. 27.3–4). The closing of Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo furthers the impression of Greek disregard for other cultures, as it warns against the debasement of poetry through the introduction of non-Greek influences.58 Peucestas, Alexander’s philos and governor of the satrapy of Persia, who apparently went completely native in dress and custom, perhaps is an exception that proves the rule.59 On this score, Ptolemaic Egypt supplies the best evidence for the world beyond the royal courts; that is, for Hellenistic society at less rarefied levels. In the governmental sphere, not only did Greek supplant demotic for administrative purposes, but a specialized and difficult professional jargon emerged, with unusual Greek words and tortuous syntax. Here we see the development of a hermetically sealed, bureaucratic mandarinism that served to distance the elites, possessing the trappings of Hellenic culture, from the rest of Egyptian society.60 The Zenon Archive, an immensely rich cache of papyrus documents from Philadelphia in the Egyptian Fayûm, provides a splendid example of the sociocultural divide in the pathetic complaints of a mid-third-century non-Greek of mistreatment at the hands of Greeks, simply because he lacked Hellenic polish. The Sidonian inscription on the base of a statue executed by the Cretan sculptor Timocharis (fl. ca. 240–ca. 200) celebrates the Nemean chariot-race victory of one Diotimus, probably of nonGreek origin, and seems to tell the same story. The twelve-line Greek elegiac poem invokes Cadmus and Thebes, thereby forging a cultural passage to Hellenism for the victor.61 Hellenism also translated into political power and cultural influence on the international scene in the Hellenistic period: witness the Macedonian concern for Greek legitimacy from the Argead Archelaus’s patronage of the poets Euripides and Agathon and the painter Zeuxis late in the fifth century to Antigonus Gonatas’s court invitation to the philosopher Zeno in the midthird; the Ptolemaic commitment to Alexandrian Greek learning in the Museum and Library; the Greek-style city, complete with theater, a dedication to the deities of the gymnasium par excellence, Hermes and Heracles, and 58. Callim. Hymn. 2.108–9; cf. Momigliano 1987: 9–23. 59. On Peucestas, see Arr. Anab. 6.30.3; 7.6.3; Diod. 19.48.5–6; also 19.14.5; Briant 1972: 60–61 and n. 8; Bosworth 1980: 12 for another view. 60. See Thompson 1994: 77; 1992; Bagnall 1997 on ethnic interaction in Ptolemaic Egypt. 61. Zenon Archive: P. Col. Zen. 2.66.18–21, with Rostovtzeff 1953: 3.1644 and Erskine 2000: 167 n. 10; P. Yale 46 col. 1, line 13; Samuel 1993: 172 and nn. 6–7. Diotimus: Moretti IAG no. 41, esp. lines 7–10 (Austin HW no. 121), with Davies 1984: 258; van der Spek 1987: 59. Jones 1940: 47–50 discusses further examples of non-Greek cultural assimilation to Hellenism; see also Goudriaan 1992.

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inscribed Delphic maxims in its heroon, at Aï Khanoum at the confluence of the Oxus and Kochba rivers in present-day Afghanistan; the political propaganda of the reorganized Aetolian festival of the Soteria, which proclaimed the Aetolians as the saviors of Greece against a barbarian onslaught; and the Attalids’ Pergamene, Athenian, and Delian sculptural advertisements of their victories over the barbarian Celts.62 Ever since G. Droysen defined the Hellenistic period as a distinct object of historical inquiry, scholars have tended to focus on the sharp breaks with the past that distinguish this period from the classical. In the framework of this discussion, the scale of the application of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity certainly is of an entirely different order in Hellenistic times than in any preceding period. There was progressive expansion of Hellenism, both territorially and conceptually, from the archaic through the classical and Hellenistic eras. Yet this survey thus far has also revealed some continuities that allow us to formulate a typology for the politico-cultural functions of Hellenism. Pliancy, adaptability, and accommodation have emerged as key words for this typology. Ancient Hellenism, like any ethnic-cultural identity formation, was an adaptable and negotiable cultural tool that was deployed for political purposes. On the principle of analogy, any people could be traced back to a Hellenic ancestor, often an eponymous one, through a politics of cultural assimilation.63 Alternatively, through polarization non-Greek peoples could be banished from civilized Hellenic society as barbarians in an exercise of a politics of cultural alienation from Hellenism. Yet throughout these periods Greek cultural attainments remained objects of desire for most of those who came into contact with them, and here the Romans provide the most obvious, and most fascinating, case study, as they presented unprecedented challenges for Greek politico-cultural adaptations. We must now narrow the focus of this survey to Hellenism and Rome, as therein lie the specific ideological and political backgrounds for Polybius’s collective representations in the Histories. 62. Macedonian cultural legitimacy: Hdt. 1.56; 5.22; 8.43, 137–39; Thuc. 2.99.3; Borza 1982; Badian 1982; 1994; Archelaus’s court: Hammond and Griffith (1979: 149 n. 1) assemble the ancient references; see also Borza 1990: 171–77; for Euripides’ influence, see Bosworth 1996; Fredricksmeyer 1997. Antigonus Gonatas and Zeno: D.L. 7.6–9, 13–15; see further Green 1990: 140–43. Ptolemaic patronage: Turner 1984: 170–73; Fraser 1972: 1.305–35; Green 1990: 84–91. Aï Khanoum: Robert 1968 (Austin HW no. 192); assembled references at Musti 1984: 214 n. 67; Colledge 1987 passim, esp. 140–45, 153–54; Holt 1993a; but cf. Holt 1993b for a salutary warning against overestimating intercultural penetration in “Hellenistic resource frontiers,” and Polybius’s remarks on Hellenism’s tenuous hold on Bactria (11.34.5). Aetolian Soteria: Nachtergael 1977; Champion 1995. Attalids: OGIS 269, 275–76, 280, 289; Liv. 38.16.14; Hansen 1971: 36–38; Pollitt 1986: 79–110, esp. 83–97. 63. See Jones 1999.

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Greek Barbarology and Political Subjection to Rome This section examines some particularly illuminating Greek reactions to Roman power, commencing with the First Illyrian War (229/228). The First Illyrian War brought the Romans across the Adriatic and drew near to the 140th Olympiad (220–216), the period in which, according to Polybius, the events in the oikoumene, or known inhabited world, became a tightly interconnected, organic whole (5.105). With this phase in the history of the cultural politics of Hellenism we enter the momentous period in which Polybius composed his Histories. Earlier in the third century, the tradition reports sporadic and ephemeral diplomatic exchanges between the Greek and Roman worlds: a mysterious interchange between one Demetrius and Rome concerning Italian piracy; an embassy from Apollonia to Rome in 266; and some sort of Roman intervention with the Aetolian Confederation on behalf of the Acarnanians. This last is of interest for the cultural politics of Hellenism vis-à-vis Rome, as Strabo relates that the Acarnanians claimed that they had not taken part in the Trojan expedition in order to win an autonomous status from the Romans.64 During the latter part of the third century, which Polybius could precisely locate in the 140th Olympiad, the nature of Romano-Greek political relations became of far greater historical importance than earlier interchanges. Many Greeks could have perceived some of these first significant Greek political and military contacts with Rome only as heinous acts of Roman brutality. Greek strategies of cultural accommodation were strained and tested as never before. While Romans were often publicly esteemed, privately many Greeks must have viewed them as quintessential barbaroi. From a Greek perspective, then, the coming of Rome posed new and disturbing challenges to the cultural politics of Hellenism. By the time Polybius began composing his Histories, the Romans had broken Macedonian power, and the Achaean historian was of course attuned to the historically unprecedented magnitude of Rome’s rise to world power. Rome differed in important respects from other formidable outside powers that had threatened Greece in its past. Unlike Persia, Rome was to become a lasting political and military presence in the Greek world, and Rome arrived on the scene long after the Greeks had articulated the politico-cultural language of barbarism. Unlike the Macedonians, who also had wielded long-standing authority over 64. Demetrius: Strabo 5.3.5 (C 232); Apollonia: Liv. Per. 15; Val. Max. 6.65; Dio frag. 42 B; Romans and Acarnania: Just. Epit. 28.1.5–2.14; Strabo 10.2.25 (C 462), with Deininger 1971: 23 and nn. 1–2; Rigsby 1996: 42 n. 2. Golan 1971 discusses Rome in the Greeks’ political consciousness before the First Illyrian War; see also Eisen 1966: 9–11 for a catalogue of early GreekRoman interactions.

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Greece, the Romans’ genealogical and cultural claims to Hellenic legitimacy were tenuous, to say the least. The combination of these historical factors was to make Greek opposition to Rome and Greek charges of Roman barbarism especially virulent. Yet there are clear signs that the Hellenic world frequently turned to the familiar politics of appeasement and cultural assimilation in its relations with Rome. Greeks could apply their schemes of mythical colonization and remote Hellenic genealogies to the western power on the Tiber in order to facilitate advantageous political relations with Rome. As we have seen, Strabo reports that a Demetrius (perhaps Poliorcetes) established diplomatic contact with Rome; he pointed to Roman consanguinity with Greeks as part of his diplomatic overture. The appeal to Rome in 264 of the Mamertines, Campanian mercenaries from a region of Italy under long-standing Hellenic influences, is the most famous early example of such claims to kinship with Romans. In the following year, Segesta slaughtered its Carthaginian garrison and claimed common descent from Aeneas in turning to Rome.65 In the aftermath of the First Illyrian War, we see this sort of cultural politics operating in both directions: Roman legates went to the Achaean and Aetolian confederations, as well as to Athens and Corinth, in order to justify their trans-Adriatic expedition as an act in defense of Greek liberty; on the other hand, Greeks admitted Romans to the Isthmian games at this time as a cultured and civilized people, as “honorary Greeks.” Polybius provides an echo of such conciliatory overtures to Rome with his claim that in eliminating this Illyrian menace, the Romans had rid the civilized world of a common enemy.66 In time the Greek world devised more formal and permanent ways to honor Romans as common benefactors. They set up cults to Rome in the Greek east, the earliest at Smyrna in 195. Some time around 190 a Chian statesman commissioned a marble relief sculpture depicting the origin of Romulus and Remus. Rhomaia festivals sprang up in the second century, the earliest at Delphi in 189 following Roman liberation of the sanctuary from 65. See Elwyn 1993: esp. 262 and nn. 4–5; on the Mamertines in 264, Plb. 1.7–10, with Elwyn 1993: 267–68, and 284 n. 64 on their Greek influences; Segesta: Zonar. 8.9.12; Diod. 23.5; Cic. In Verr. 2.4.72; Galinsky 1969: 173 and n. 85; cf. Plb. 22.5.3 (Ilium and Rome in aftermath of Roman victory over Antiochus III). 66. 2.12.4–8, with Walbank HC 1.165–67 ad 2.12.4–8. See also Holleaux 1921: 129; Gelzer 1964c: 54–55; Deininger 1971: 25 n. 12; already Wilamowitz-Möllendorff 1910: 146; cf. Plut. Flam. 12.2 for Flamininus’s appointment as agonothetes at the Nemean games; IDelos 1660, lines 1–2: \AuhnaAvn kaB ^RvmaAvn kaB tpn gllvn ^Ellanvn (“Athenians and Romans and the other Greeks”). Illyrians as common menace: Plb. 2.12.6; see further 3.3.5; 21.41.2; for literary and epigraphical evidence for the Romans as common benefactors, see Price 1984: 23–52; Ferrary 1988: 124–32; Erskine 1994.

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Aetolian control. Greeks also honored Roman magistrates: a Delphian decree ca. 140 refers to Postumius Albinus as patron.67 Greek intellectuals attempted to make out Rome as a Greek city and Romans as Hellenes. As early as the fourth century, Heraclides of Pontus had called Rome an Hellenic polis, and poets flattered Roma, as in the Sapphic hymn of Melinno. Polybius reports (31.4.4) a remarkable example of this cultural politics in 163, when the Rhodians set up a colossal statue to the Roman people in the temple of Athena.68 In international diplomacy, Greek flattery of Rome could be taken to excessive lengths, as when Polybius (30.18.1–7) reports with disgust the servile behavior of Prusias of Bithynia, who addressed the Roman senators as ueoB svtpre%, or “savior gods.” Yet there is also ample evidence for Greek hostility to Rome and a Greek politics of cultural alienation of Rome from Hellenism. In his Mirabilia Phlegon of Tralles, a freedman of the emperor Hadrian, preserves an important oracle from the work of the second-century Rhodian historian Antisthenes that provides invaluable testimony for Greek resentment of Roman rule. According to this fragment, after the Roman defeat of Antiochus III’s forces in 191 at Thermopylae, the Romans were collecting their own casualties, rounding up wounded war captives, and going about the business of gathering in war booty. As they were taking up the weapons from the enemy dead, suddenly one of the fallen, a Syrian cavalry commander named Buplagos, arose and uttered a prophecy. An angered Zeus, so Buplagos predicted, would send a hardy people to Italy in order to strip the Romans of their power in return for their evil practices. The dismayed Romans sent to Delphi for advice on atonement. Then during a Roman attempt to assuage the gods’ wrath through sacrifice at Naupactus, an even more ominous event occurred. A certain Publius, one of the consuls, raptured by divine omniscience, foretold that a strong army arising from Asia would march on Rome and bring about the end of the Roman dominion. As confirmation of the legitimacy of the prophecy, Publius went on to predict his own end in which he would be torn limb from limb by a red wolf. This immediately came to pass, and the story ends with Lycian Apollo reiterating the prophecy of doom 67. Tac. Ann. 4.56 (Smyrna); MacMullen 2000: 15 n. 48 for the Chian marble relief; Delphian Rhomaia: Syll.3 611 with n. 3; on the Delphic Amphictiony after 189, see Roussel 1932; Giovannini 1970; Habicht 1987; Champion 1996: 317–20; other cults of Rome at Magie 1950: 2.1613; Toynbee 1965: 2.440; Price 1984: 40–47; assembled references at Sacks 1990: 70 n. 74; Habicht 1997: 181 and n. 30 for the cult of Roma at Athens; Bowersock 1965: 150–51 for cults of Roman magistrates in the east; Deininger 1971: 86 n. 43 (Flamininus); Delphian decree: SEG 1.152, with Chiransky 1982: 474–76; Ferrary 1997: 105–13. Erskine 1997 considers the Greek cult of the Roman Senate in our period. 68. Heraclides ap. Plut. Cam. 22, and further references for Rome as a Greek city at Lomas 1993: 10 n. 24; Melinno’s Hymn: Anth. Lyr. Graec. II2.315–16, with Bowra 1957.

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for Rome through the lips of Publius’s severed head. The desperate hatred of Rome that this chilling and gruesome tale relays finds parallels in the Sibylline Oracles.69 Reasons for such Greek attitudes are not far to seek. In the late third and second centuries, Rome’s military superiority increasingly encroached upon and eventually eradicated Greek political autonomy as the Greeks had known it in earlier periods. Several incidents in these years provide illumination for the causes of Greek antipathy toward Rome. Those selected here for brief discussion are Roman actions in southern Italy and Sicily in the latter stages of the Hannibalic War; Flamininus’s entry into Greece in the Second Macedonian War, leading up to his famous Isthmian Proclamation of 196; the so-called Day of Eleusis of 168, in which the Roman legate C. Popillius Laenas delivered an astonishing ultimatum to the Syrian king Antiochus IV Epiphanes; and the eastern mission in 163 of the proconsul Cn. Octavius. The selection is a diverse one in terms of political situation and geographical locale, but all provide clear indication as to why Greeks might consider Romans as barbaroi. Although the Roman embassy to the Achaean and Aetolian confederations and to Athens and Corinth at the close of the First Illyrian War demonstrates a Roman awareness of Greek public opinion, Rome’s treatment of Syracuse and Tarentum in the closing stages of the Hannibalic War shows that Rome could also be insensitive to Greek sentiment. Roman actions there can have served only to tarnish Rome’s image in the Greek world. A major turning point in the war came when the proconsul M. Claudius Marcellus recaptured the Greek polis of Syracuse. The siege in which the brilliant engineer Archimedes perished at the hands of a looting Roman soldier was particularly brutal, and in the earlier Leontinian campaign Marcellus had had two thousand Roman deserters beheaded. Horror stories soon grew up around the events in Syracuse in 211. In 209 Tarentum paid a bitter price for having sided with Hannibal, when the field commander Q. Fabius Maximus allowed indiscriminate slaughter. Livy reports that Roman soldiers cut down men everywhere, whether Carthaginian, Tarentine, or Bruttian; armed or unarmed. Thirty thousand captives according to his account were enslaved.70 69. Phlegon of Tralles, FGrH 257 F 36 III, with Fuchs [1938] 1964: 5–7, 29–30; Ferrary 1988: 238–50; Orlin 1997: 80 n. 14, 208–10 (text); Beard, North, and Price 1998: 205 and n. 124. Gabba 1974: 634–35 maintains that the Roman commander is P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus and that the story is of Aetolian origin. Sibyll. Or. 8.95 on Rome, with Sherwin-White 1973: 400 nn. 6–10; Gruen 1998: 288. Cf. Plb. 31.6.6: the harsher the Romans were to Eumenes II, the more attached the Greeks became to the king. 70. Syracuse and Archimedes: Liv. 25.31.9–10; Plut. Marc. 19; Val. Max. 8.7 ext. 7; Cic. Fin. 5.50; punishment of Roman deserters: Liv. 24.30.6; Tarentum: Liv. 27.16.1–9. For Roman politics of savagery, see Marcellus’s treatment of the Campanian garrison at Casilinum (Liv. 24.19.9–11), Leontini (Liv. 26.30.4–5); Megara Hyblaea (Liv. 24.35.2) and Henna (Liv.

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Roman plundering of precious art objects perhaps rankled most of all. Marcellus had despoiled Syracusan buildings, sacred and profane, and he used the plundered art to adorn his temples near the Porta Capena. Livy remarks that people came from far and wide to see these magnificent adornments. At Tarentum, Roman looters hauled off immense quantities of gold, silver, statues, and paintings; here the spoil almost rivaled that from Syracuse.71 Polybius himself censures the Roman removal of Greek art objects, pointing out that such behavior made the Romans objects of hatred, as they had deprived the conquered not only of their freedom but also of their pleasures.72 The events surrounding the Roman recovery of Locri in 205 provide a conspicuous example of this sort of Greek fear and loathing of Roman behavior. Q. Pleminius, Scipio Africanus’s propraetor, committed the sacrilege of despoiling Locrian temples, especially that of Proserpina. Livy preserves the pathetic appeal of the Locrian embassy to the Senate in which the Locrians protested Pleminius’s enormities. A senatorial investigative commission was sent out, Pleminius was removed, and expiation and restoration of sacred objects followed. But within a few years there are reports of further Roman pillaging of Locrian Proserpina.73 The actions in 198–196 of T. Quinctius Flamininus, whom some modern scholars have seen as a great philhellene, are further testimony of Roman rapacity and sharp practice. Much of Flamininus’s image as a friend of Greek culture derives from the famous Isthmian Proclamation of 196, in which the Roman commander announced Rome’s intention of evacuating Roman troops and restoring Greek liberty without tribute.74 The Greek audience’s shouts of joy, which followed the stunned silence of initial disbelief, make up a well-known story, but not all shared in the euphoria. The Aetolians, who felt themselves deceived by Roman bad faith concerning the spoils of the victory over Philip V, offered the cynical assessment that the Greeks had merely 24.39.1–10), with Eckstein 1987b: 157–58; cf. Walsh 1963: 101–2; Eckstein 1976: 131–42; Ziolkowski 1993b: 77–89. For a detailed analysis of Marcellus’s campaign in Sicily, see Eckstein 1987b: 157–69, 345–49. 71. Marcellus’s Syracusan spoils: Liv. 25.40.1–3; Petrochilos 1974: 70; Eckstein 1987b: 163 and nn. 28–29; Ferrary 1988: 573–78; Gruen 1992: 94–103; Tarentum: Liv. 27.16.7–8; cf. Nottmeyer 1995: 157–58. 72. 9.10.1–13; 39.2–3; Liv. 31.30; Plut. Marc. 20; Cic. In Verr. 2.1.54–55 (art looting of Marcellus, L. Scipio, Flamininus, L. Aemilius Paullus, L. Mummius); 2.2.158–59, 160–68; 2.4.132–33; Wardman 1976: 50–60; Rawson 1985: 194. 73. Liv. 29.8.9–11; see also 29.16.4–22.12, esp. 18.3–9; further sources at MRR 1.301, 305; Scullard 1930: 169–73; Toynbee 1965: 2.613–21 (a cynical interpretation of Africanus’s role in the affair), 621–22 for further Roman looting of Locrian Proserpina in 200. 74. Plb. 18.44–48; Liv. 33.30–35; Plut. Flam. 10.4; 12.2; App. Mac. 9; Just. Epit. 30.4.17–18; Val. Max. 4.8.5; Zonar. 9.16; Gruen 1984: 132–57 for Greek precedents for such proclamations; Ferrary 1988: 83–88; see Badian 1958: 70–75 for a different view. Eckstein 1990 on Polybius’s representation. Badian 1970: 3–27, 53–57, surveys modern interpretations of Flamininus.

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exchanged Philip for Rome as their despot (Plb. 18.45.6). In the eyes of many Greeks, subsequent events would make the Aetolians’ words in 196 seem like prophecy. In the fighting of 200 and 199, the Romans had destroyed Chalcis, Antipatreia, Andros, and Acanthus and had enslaved the entire population of Oreus. Both P. Sulpicius Galba’s and Flamininus’s military campaigns against Philip could only have given rise to the deepest Greek distrust and fear of Roman power. Galba’s command commenced with the sack of Aegina and ended with that of Achaean Dyme; his policy in Greece may best be described as one of terrorism.75 Flamininus’s sack of Thessalian Phaloria, differing little from the tactics of his predecessor, evinces a Roman propensity for brutal behavior against Greek states.76 Flamininus’s propagandist diplomacy, stressing the freedom of the Greeks, beginning with the conference at Locris at the end of 198 and culminating in the famous Isthmian Proclamation of 196, was set in motion only after traditional military solutions had failed. Early in his campaign, after Philip had refused the harsh demands of the Aous conference, Flamininus attempted to end the war with a bold stroke by carrying the Macedonian position at Aoi Stena in a frontal assault; and the Isthmian Proclamation itself was fully articulated only after the proconsul had suffered a military check in Thessaly.77 The initiative here came from the Greeks, and political and military exigencies drove Flamininus into this diplomatic position, not any alleged philhellenism.78 Livy’s account reveals that in one important respect Flamininus’s command in Greece differed little from that of any of his predecessors: in 194 his troops returned to Italy laden with war booty. Greek fear and antipathy toward Rome was widespread before Flamininus’s arrival in Greece, and it persisted there long after his departure.79 75. Chalcis: Liv. 31.23.1–24.3; Antipatreia: Liv. 31.27.1–6; Andros: Liv. 31.45.1–8; Acanthus: Liv. 31.45.16; Oreus: Liv. 31.46.9–16; Galba’s sacks: Plb. 9.42.5–8; 11.5.8 (Oreus and Aegina), with Deininger 1971: 32–34; Paus. 7.17.5; Liv. 32.22.10; App. Mac. 7 (Dyme), with Eckstein 1976: 126. 76. Phaloria: Liv. 32.15.1–3, with Eckstein 1976: 134–36; 126–38 on Flamininus’s willingness to engage in terrorist tactics; Ferrary 1988: 62–63 and nn. 65–66. L. Flamininus plundered Eretria in 198 (Liv. 32.16.8–17) and sacked Leucas in spring 197 in order to bring Acarnania over to the Roman side (Liv. 33.17.3–14). See Aristaenus’s list of Rome’s menacing actions at the Achaean synkletos of autumn 198: Liv. 32.21.7, 21.13–14, 21.16–17, 21.28, 21.32, and the Aetolian charges against the Achaean Confederation and Athens as the betrayers of Greece at Liv. 34.23–24. 77. Aoi Stena: Liv. 32.10.9–12; see Eckstein 1976: 134–36 for the Thessalian campaign; cf. Ferrary 1988: 63–64 and n. 68; contra Badian 1970: 28–38. 78. Plb. 18.11.4–11; see also 18.36.6, with Gruen 1984: 145–46; Eckstein 1976 passim. 79. War booty in 194: Liv. 34.52.2 and further references assembled at Bonamente 1980: 73 n. 34; for Rome’s bad reputation in Greece before 199, see works listed at Gruen 1984: 146 n. 84.

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Flamininus’s predecessor Galba had unsuccessfully attempted to bring the Aetolian Confederation into the war in the winter of 200/199 and again in the spring of 199. Flamininus was to find similar resistance in Achaea; the Achaeans joined Rome only with great reluctance.80 In the fall of 198, while Flamininus was besieging Elatia and the Roman fleet lay at Cenchreae, poised for an attack on Corinth, the Achaeans held a three-day meeting at Sicyon. They engaged in heated debate on the proposed alliance with the Romans; the strategos Aristaenus pushed the measure through only with great difficulty. When it became clear that the assembly would vote for alliance with Rome, the representatives from Dyme, Argos, and Polybius’s Megalopolis left the council. According to Appian’s account, the Achaean majority favored Philip’s cause.81 Some three decades later, two events strikingly underscored Rome’s imperious behavior. One came to symbolize Roman arrogance in the historiographical tradition, while the other prompted a Greek reaction of fury and the murder of a Roman legate. Following the news of the decisive Roman victory over Macedonia at Pydna in 168, a Roman embassy headed by C. Popillius Laenas arrived in Egypt. Its mission was to sort out the conflict between the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kingdoms. Laenas met the Seleucid monarch Antiochus IV Epiphanes at Eleusis on the outskirts of Alexandria and delivered a senatus consultum to the king. Polybius describes how Laenas refused Antiochus the conventional signs of friendship until he should read the senatorial decree demanding Seleucid evacuation of Ptolemaic lands. When the king requested leave to discuss these matters with his council, the Roman legate, taking up a vine reed, drew a circle in the sand around Antiochus, demanding an answer before he should step out of the circle. A shocked Antiochus, according to Polybius, soon consented to carry out all Roman wishes. The proud house of the Seleucids, whose founder had been one of the generals of Alexander the Great, was thus publicly humiliated by a Roman legate. The Hellenistic monarchies were now clearly the subordinates and servants of Rome.82 The former consul Cn. Octavius led another Roman embassy to the Greek east in 163 with a wide-ranging agenda: investigations in Macedonia, Galatia, and Alexandria and orders to settle affairs in Syria according to sen80. Plb. 18.13–14; Liv. 32.19–20; 41.24.14–15; Achaean fear of Rome: Plb. 18.13.8; Liv. 32.19.7; 32.21.7–20, 25–34, with Eckstein 1976: 138–41. Galba and Aetolians: Liv. 31.28.3; 31.29–33, with Eckstein 1976: 126. 81. Liv. 32.19.1–23.3; App. Mac. 7; extensive discussion at Aymard 1938b: 79–102; concise treatments and sources at Deininger 1971: 42–46; Gruen 1984: 444–46; for the date, Aymard 1938b: 80–81 and n. 49. Siege of Elatia: Liv. 32.24.1–7; Dyme, Argos, and Megalopolis: Liv. 32.22.8–12; see also 32.25.1–12 (Argos and Corinth). 82. 29.27.1–13; also 3.4.3; Gruen 1984: 659 n. 226 assembles the ancient references; a balanced account at Habicht 1989: 344–46.

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atorial directives. According to Polybius, the thrust of the mission to Syria was to cripple the Seleucid kingdom. In carrying out their assignment, Octavius and the Roman legati burned Seleucid warships and mutilated Seleucid war elephants. The pathetic sight of the hamstrung elephants drove the populace into a frenzy. Octavius himself was slain in the melee, and the Syrians openly owned and praised the assassination of a Roman legate. One Isocrates proclaimed not only that Octavius had received his due punishment, but also that the Syrians should have killed the other Roman legates as well; this, he claimed, might have put a stop to Rome’s arrogance and irresponsible exercise of power.83 The events in Sicily and southern Italy in the latter stages of the Hannibalic War; Flamininus’s campaign leading up to his Isthmian Proclamation of 196; C. Popillius Laenas, Antiochus IV Epiphanes, and “The Day of Eleusis”; and Cn. Octavius’s eastern embassy of 163 all serve as paradigmatic examples of Roman behavior that appalled and alienated Greeks. Other examples could easily be adduced, such as Glabrio’s brutalities at Coronea and siege of Heraclea in 191; the actions in 174 of the censor Q. Fulvius Flaccus, who seized roof tiles from the Crotoniate shrine of Juno Lacinia for his temple of Fortuna Equestris at Rome; Rome’s mass enslavement and pillaging of Boeotian Haliartus in 171; the consul Hostilius’s sack of Abdera ca. 170, in which he executed the leading citizens and sold the rest into slavery; and Aemilius Paullus’s savage plundering of Epirus in 167 on his return trip to Italy from victory over the Macedonian king Perseus at Pydna, during which some seventy communities were sacked and some 150,000 people enslaved. Such events would only have confirmed the Greeks’ earlier experiences of Roman atrocities in the third century, as at Agrigentum, Mytistratum, and Camarina in the First Romano-Carthaginian War.84 There is every indication, then, that many Greeks in the first half of the second century would have perceived the Romans as the most ruthless of barbarians. And indeed, Polybius preserves three Greek ambassadorial speeches

83. Plb. 31.2.1–14, 11.1–4, 33.5; 32.2.1–3.13; further references at Gruen 1984: 128 n. 166; for a critique of Polybius’s interpretation, see Gruen 1976c: 81–84; cf. Habicht 1988 for the political difficulties of Laodicea ad Mare in the context of these events. 84. Glabrio: Liv. 36.20.1–4 (Coronea); Liv. 36.22–24 (Heraclea); Deininger 1971: 88–89; Flaccus: Liv. 42.3.1–11; Val. Max. 1.1.20; MRR 1.404; see also Lomas 1993: 129 and nn. 18–19; Haliartus: Liv. 42.56.1–7, 63.3–12; MRR 1.416, with Dahlheim 1968: 17 n. 27; Deininger 1971: 164–67; Abdera: Liv. 43.4.8–13 (iniustum bellum); Paullus in Epirus: Liv. 45.34.1–6; Plb. 30.15; Walbank HC 3.438–39; Toynbee 1965: 2.170 n. 7; Deininger 1971: 202–4 and further references at Badian 1970: 56 n. 90; Gruen 1976b: 58 n. 106; Harris 1979: 52 n. 3; Reiter 1988: 92 n. 67; Agrigentum (262); Mytistratum, and Camarina (258): assembled references at Eckstein 1987b: 160 n. 15. See Toynbee 1965: 2.608–45; Petrochilos 1974: 106 nn. 1–2, 110 for further Roman atrocities in Greece; cf. Toynbee 1965: 2.171–73 for a table of mass enslavements in the GrecoRoman world of the third and second centuries.

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of the period that explicitly refer to the Romans as such. At the end of book 5, Polybius highlights the speech of the Aetolian ambassador Agelaus at the peace conference at Naupactus in 217 that brought the so-called Social War between the Macedonian king Philip V and his allies and the Aetolians to a close. In this speech, Agelaus indirectly casts the Romans as barbaroi: It would be best of all if the Greeks never made war on each other, but instead thought that unanimity is the gods’ greatest gift, and marching arm in arm like men fording a river, repel barbarian invaders (tb% tpn barbarvn Dfadoy% dpotribamenoi) and unite in preserving themselves and their cities. (5.104.1–2)

Agelaus goes on to state that the ultimate victor in the war raging between Rome and Carthage would be sure to invade Greece in actions of unjust aggression (5.104.3–4). The Aetolian ambassador ends his speech with what is perhaps the most memorable passage in the Histories, referring to the western powers as “clouds that loom in the west to settle on Greece” (5.104.10). In Agelaus’s representation, the Romans are a barbarian people who do not know justice and who threaten Greece like an ominous cloud from the west.85 In the late spring of 210 Philip V and the Aetolian Confederation were again at war. Macedonian and Aetolian representatives went the rounds of the neutral Greek states in order to strike up alliances. The Aetolians had already formed the infamous alliance with Rome in the so-called treaty of Laevinus. In book 9, Polybius records a pair of speeches delivered at Sparta: one from the Macedonian side, the other from the Aetolian camp. Lyciscus, an Acarnanian ambassador, appeals to the Spartans on Macedonia’s behalf. The bulk of his speech emphasizes the great services the Macedonians have performed for the rest of the Greek world in fighting off the barbarians to the north.86 As in Agelaus’s speech, Lyciscus paints a very negative picture of the Romans. In reference to the Romano-Aetolian alliance, Lyciscus chastises the Aetolians: Who made common cause with you at present or what kind of an alliance do you invite them to enter? Is it not an alliance with barbarians (prb% tbn tpn barbarvn)? (9.37.5–6)

The Acarnanian goes on to stress the danger posed by Rome, warning that Greece is now threatened by a foreign race whose intention is to enslave the Hellenes. Lyciscus repeats Agelaus’s famous metaphor of Rome as an omi85. See Deininger 1971: 25–29; the speech reveals much of Polybius’s historiographical practice in recording speeches; for summary and extension of recent debates, see Champion 1997a; on Polybian speeches generally, see Sacks 1981: 79–95; Walbank 1985: 242–61. 86. See Deininger 1971: 29–31; for exhaustive discussion of the Laevinus treaty, see Lehmann 1967: 51–134; cf. Dahlheim 1968: 181–207; Tränkle 1977: 211–15.

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nous cloud from the west, and he chides the Spartans for entertaining the idea of an alliance with barbarians against Greece (9.37.10, 38.5–6). Near his speech’s end, Lyciscus calls up the image of the women of Anticyra being carried off by the Romans to suffer what must be suffered by those who fall into the power of aliens (9.39.3). As Agelaus had done indirectly in his speech at Naupactus some seven years before, Lyciscus represents the Romans as an unjust and barbarous people bent on enslaving Greeks. Polybius also records the speech of a Greek ambassador who formed part of an embassy in 207 to the Aetolian Confederation (11.4.1–6.8). Its task was to convince the Aetolians to come to terms with Macedonia and end the war still raging throughout Greece. On the evidence of a marginal gloss scholars have identified the speaker as a Rhodian statesman named Thrasycrates, but the identification is not absolutely certain.87 This speaker echoes Lyciscus’s criticism at Sparta of the Romano-Aetolian alliance: You are fighting for the enslavement and ruin of Greece. This is the story your treaty with the Romans tells. . . . Did you capture a city yourselves you would not allow yourselves to outrage freemen or to burn their towns, which you regard as a cruel proceeding and barbarous; but you have made a treaty by which you have given up to the barbarians the rest of the Greeks (epanta% toB% glloy% ˜Ellhna% Dkdatoy% dedakate toP% barbaroi%) to be exposed to atrocious outrage and violence.88

The envoy goes on to warn that the Romans will throw themselves into Greece with the intention of conquering the entire land (11.6.1–2). The pattern is clear. In three Greek ambassadorial speeches spanning a decade, Romans are represented as uncouth and unprincipled barbarians who will destroy Greek liberty. In Agelaus’s prooemium, the general reference to the perils of barbarian invasions introduces the idea of the imminent danger to Greece from the victor in the Hannibalic War; and both Lyciscus’s and [Thrasycrates]’ speeches explicitly refer to the Romans as barbaroi. In a Polybian passage in Livy (31.29.4–16), Macedonian envoys to the Panaitolika in spring 199 made charges of Roman barbarism and commented on profferred Roman help that soon turned into provinces subjected to the Roman rods and axes. From about the beginning of the second century, the sources do not contain formal Greek diplomatic references to the Romans as bar-

87. See Walbank HC 2.274–75 ad 11.4.1–6.10; Pédech 1964: 268–69; Deininger 1971: 32–34. 88. 11.5.1–2, 6–8; cf. 24.13.4–5, where Philopoemen refers to the Capuans and Sicilian Greeks as slaves of Rome; Liv. 39.37.9–10 (184): Lycortas, Polybius’s father, refers to the Achaean relation to Rome as in danger of becoming that of slave to master; see generally Gruen 1984: 316–56.

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barians, but there is no reason to believe that that perception had faded among Greek politicians in the decades that followed.89 In the first half of the second century, Greeks employed both the politics of cultural assimilation and the politics of cultural alienation in their relations with Rome. Repeated heinous acts of Roman brutality, for which Polybius gives us a typology in his description of cities sacked by the Romans, provide the motivational background for the latter.90 Fear, distrust, and hatred accurately describe an important part of the picture emerging from a study of the historical evidence for Greek reactions to Rome in this period, and this evidence provides a context in which to situate Polybius’s collective representations of Romans. But Polybius also wrote for a Roman audience. It is therefore necessary to consider the question of the cultural politics of Hellenism from a Roman perspective. Here ambivalence and even hostility are in evidence in Roman responses of the first half of the second century to close political and cultural contacts with Hellas.

Hellenism at Rome: The Roman Reception of Greek Culture Roman actions in this period indicate a genuine ambivalence, and perhaps even antipathy, toward Greek culture on the part of some Roman aristocrats. First we may consider the ancestor masks paraded in the Roman aristocratic funeral. In a famous passage, Polybius describes the positive, character-building effect their display had upon Roman aristocratic youth.91 Although the origins and nature of these masks are far from clear,92 it is safe to assume that the native artistic influences in their production would have taken on new symbolic dimensions in the political theater of the Roman aristocratic funeral in our period. The Roman ancestor mask’s origins may have lain in Rome’s remotest past, but we cannot assume, as some have done, that the masks necessarily provided the impetus for the development of Roman verism, the realistic portrayal of human physiognomy in Roman portraiture. Although we do have examples of Hellenistic veristic portraiture, it is reasonable to view the depiction of rugged, hard-nosed Roman aristocrats in our period as a reaction to the idealizing royal portraiture of the Hellenistic 89. See Deininger 1971: 34–37; Champion 2000b: 433–37. 90. See 10.15–16 (Carthago Nova in 209), with Erskine 2000: 181–82; cf. Liv. 26.46.10; 28.20.6–7 (Iliturgis in 206); 31.34.4–5 (Philip V’s observations in 200). Latin sources present an extreme picture of the unbridled savagery of Roman sacking; see Ziolkowski 1993b. 91. 6.53; cf. Plaut. Men. 1063; Am. 458–59; L. Afranius, Togatae 364 (Non. 493 M); Flower 1996: 32–59; Harris 1979: 24–25 and n. 1 for bibliography on the pompa funebris. 92. See Hiesinger 1973: 814–16; Smith 1981: 31–32; Flower 1996: 339–51.

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monarchies, whose standard Lysippus created in his renderings of Alexander.93 Once Romano-Greek relations became of paramount importance in the second century, Roman verism would have taken on new politico-cultural dimensions.94 From the perspective of cultural politics, we may suggest that both the indigenous Roman waxen ancestor mask and the verism of Roman portraiture were at least in part reactions against idealizing Hellenistic royal portraiture.95 Moving from the realm of the dead to that of the living, we find another example of Roman cultural distancing from an enervating, corrupting Hellenism. The sources reveal a conservatism in Roman sexual mores that denounces alleged Greek practices in this private sphere. Anecdotal material suggests the extent of Roman prurience: Cato the Elder remarked that he lay with his wife only during thunderstorms, and Plutarch remarks that the Censor’s avoidance of bathing with his son was common practice among the Romans.96 Some Romans apparently regarded Greek gymnasia as breeding grounds for homoerotic bonds in which youths who one day should become responsible citizens and statesmen were defiled by what Romans would call stuprum. And gymnasia were a distinctively Greek venue producing a creature abhorred by many of our Roman literary sources: the male pathic. Polybius provides evidence for Roman seriousness on this score, stating that in the Roman army male prostitution was a capital offense.97 These remarks open up the large question of sexual politics in classical antiquity, an area that has stimulated intense scholarly interest. Summary of the main lines of this research will prepare the way for a consideration of the Roman adaptation of this politico-cultural discourse as a response to Greek culture. In the politics of Greek and Roman sociosexual systems, sex appears to have been an instrument of power wherein displays of dominance mat93. On Hellenistic verism, see Pollitt 1986: 141–47; cf. 284–89 on Bactrian royal coin portraiture. 94. Plin. NH 35.6 stresses the difference between simple native imagines of Rome’s early days and Greek-inspired portraiture; cf. Boëthius 1942: 227. 95. Ancestor masks: Plb. 6.53.4–9; Sall. Iug. 4.5–6; Plin. NH 35.6–7; Cic. In Verr. 2.5.36–37; Ov. Am. 1.8.65; Fast. 1.591; Vitruv. 6.3.4; Sen. Dial. 11.14.3; Tac. Ann. 2.73.1, 3.76.10–11; Walbank HC 1.738 ad 6.53.4; Jackson 1987; Gregory 1994: 87 n. 29; Flower 1996. On Roman verism, Boëthius 1942; Richter 1955; Breckenridge 1973; Gazda 1973; Hiesinger 1973, with bibliography at 820–25; Smith 1981; Zanker 1987; Walker 1995: 72–82 (a representative sample). 96. Plut. Cat. Mai. 17, 20; cf. Sen. Dial. 4.32.2; MacMullen 1982: 489 and nn. 19–21; Veyne 1987. On Roman baths, see now Fagan 1999. 97. 31.25.4–5; Ennius ap. Cic. Tusc. 4.70; 5.58 (Dionysus I of Syracuse), with Hallett 1997: 269; ORF 3 no. 48 frag. 26 (C. Gracchus on his return from Sardinia in 124); Luc. 7.270–71; Sen. Ep. 123.15; Val. Max. 2.1.7; Plin. NH 15.19; Plin. Ep. 1.22.6; Tac. Ann. 14.20.10–20; Plut. Mor. 274c–d; Cat. Mai. 20; Tert. Ad Nat. 1.16.15 B, with Marrou 1956: 249; Bonner 1977: 37 and n. 22; MacMullen 1982: 497 n. 45. Roman army: Plb. 6.37.9, with Walbank HC 1.720.

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tered. The “Priapic paradigm,” stressing the active male role, sexual penetration, was both isomorphic with social status and a demonstration of one’s place in the social hierarchy. It affirmed one’s social superiority over the passive partner. Reciprocity on equal terms seems to have been the remotest of possibilities.98 And Roman literary texts show more emphasis on the insertive, penetrative role as a demonstration of manhood than do our Greek sources.99 Here we once again find the Romans modifying a Greek conception; in this case, to the detriment of the Greeks as a collective entity. Romans asserted their ascendancy over Greeks in various ways, including the questioning of Greek virility. M. Dubuisson has advanced a linguistic argument that supports this contention. He suggests that the Romans used not only the diminutive adjective Graeculus, but also the positive-degree adjective Graecus, in a pejorative sense. The Roman sex/gender system played an important role in this regard as a particular articulation of a Roman collective identity vis-à-vis Greeks. Romans employed the language of sexual politics as a part of their claims to superiority, and here Romans assume the dominant, and Greeks the submissive, roles.100 Trimalchio confesses to having submitted to pedicatio by saying that he “led a Chian style of life.”101 Roman terms for sexual inversion and the male pathic were routinely drawn from the Greek language: cinaedus, catamitus, pathicus, pedico, malacus; and for a freeborn Roman youth to submit to anal sexual penetration, an act Romans associated with Greek licentiousness, was according to the jurist Paulus a fate worse than death. In the famous Roman suppression of the Greek rites to Dionysus in 186, a large number of men and women were convicted of foul sexual behavior, stupra.102 P. Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, invoking the Greek cinaedus in 98. For Greek and Roman sexual politics, see Dover 1978; Veyne 1985; Gleason 1990; Halperin 1990; 1997; Winkler 1990, with the critiques of Thorp 1992 and Richlin 1993; assembled references on male pathics in Greek Old Comedy at Henderson 1975: 209–15. For Roman examples of the homology of active sexual penetration and superior social status, Suet. Iul. 49; Galb. 22 (Icelus); Plut. Galb. 9 (Nymphidius and Sporus); Tac. Ann. 11.2 (Asiaticus’s retort to P. Suillius Rufus); and Antony’s boast at Suet. Aug. 69; cf. Suet. Ner. 29 (Nero’s sexual inversion). 99. See Williams 1999: 161–63. 100. Graeculus, Graecus, and related terms: Dubuisson 1991, esp. 322–35; cf. Juv. Sat. 2.10 (Socraticos . . . cinaedos); Swain 1996: 405 (on Roman attitudes to the Spartan condottiere Xanthippus); MacMullen 1982, which, however, anachronistically employs the term “homosexuality” throughout and, in my opinion, does not sufficiently emphasize the crucial active-passive dichotomy (but see 491–92); Richlin 1993: 553. 101. Petron. Sat. 63.3, with Adams 1982: 202; see also Mart. 12.96.9–10. 102. Paulus: Dig. 4.2.8.2; see also Dig. 48.8.1.4, Marcianus (reporting a ruling of Hadrian), with MacMullen 1991: 494 and n. 39; Walters 1997 (viri as “sexually impenetrable penetrators”); Bacchanalian conspiracy: Liv. 39.18.4, with MacMullen 1991: 429–30 and references assembled at n. 30.

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a circumlocution for sexual depravity, castigated P. Sulpicius Galus for his effeminacy and pathic sexual behavior in a censorial indictment.103 C. A. Williams has argued that in appropriate contexts penetrative homosexual acts (i.e., with slaves and social inferiors) were an accepted part of Roman sexual practices, but that Romans generally regarded Greek culture as dangerously licentious and Greek influence as responsible for the specific practice of pederastia, romantic and sexual relations between citizen men and freeborn adolescent males.104 Roman adaptation of Greek sociosexual ideas, therefore, served to assert Roman superiority over Greeks, but Roman representations of Greek sexual practices were but one of the ways in which Romans represented Greek culture as a threat to the Roman politico-social hierarchy. Shifting from the private back to the public sphere, we find further indications of a Roman aversion to Hellenism in the middle republican period. Greek intellectuals flocked to Rome in the aftermath of Perseus’s defeat at Pydna in 168.105 Their expulsions from Rome and the suppression of Greek writings may reveal something of second-century Roman attitudes toward Greek culture. In the context of such other cultural indicators as veristic portraiture and the Roman sexual vocabulary, these actions would seem to be more than political posturing. As early as 213, under the pressures of the Hannibalic War, foreign writings on religious matters had been confiscated by senatorial decree and praetorian edict. In 181, the urban praetor Q. Petilius found Greek philosophical writings he believed were dangerous to Roman religion and had them burned. In 173, two Epicurean philosophers were ejected from the city. The praetor M. Pomponius in 161 proposed a motion, which the Senate implemented through a senatus consultum, to rid the city of Rome of Greek philosophers and rhetors. Six years later Cato was anxious to hasten the departure from Rome of an Athenian diplomatic consort of philosophers.106 There are yet other indications of Roman uncertainties and apprehensions regarding Hellenism. A series of sumptuary laws, the most famous of 103. Cf. Adams 1982: 123, 228; MacMullen 1982: 486 and nn. 5–7; Richlin 1993; Aemilianus: ORF 3 no. 21 frag. 17, with text and translation at Williams 1999: 23; Macrob. Sat. 3.14.7, with Adams 1982: 223; see also 213 n. 1; Astin 1967: 255; and the charges against Scipio at Liv. 29.19.11–12, with Gruen 1990: 101. 104. See Williams 1999, esp. 62–124, 135–37. 105. Plb. 31.24.6–7; Plut. Aem. 6.4–5, 33.3. 106. 213: Liv. 25.1.6–12; 181: Liv. 40.29.2–14; Val. Max. 1.1.12; Vir. Ill. 3; Festus p. 178 L; Plin. NH 13.84–88 (citing earlier authorities); Plut. Numa 22; Lact. Inst. 1.22; August. C.D. 7.34, with Gruen 1990: 163–70; 173: Ath. 12.547a; Ael. VH 9.12; I follow the dating of Kaimio 1979: 46 against Gruen 1990: 177 (154); 161: Suet. Rhet. 1.2 (Gell. NA 15.11.1), who erroneously has Latin philosophers and rhetors; Kennedy 1972: 54; Rawson 1985: 78; Jehne 1995b: 13 n. 7; Cato in 155: Plut. Cat. Mai. 22; Plin. NH 7.112; Astin 1978: 153–54.

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which was the lex Oppia that Cato the Elder later defended, were in part a response, or a disingenuous cultural stance, as some would have it, directed against Greek opulence. In his consular defense of the Oppian sumptuary legislation in 195, Cato, according to Livy’s account, explicitly linked the onset of debilitating luxury at Rome with the Roman penetration of Greece, and particularly with the spoils from Syracuse.107 The lex Orchia of 182 limited the number of guests at entertainments, and Livy reports a measure of the same year restricting expenditure on games given by Roman magistrates. The consul for 161, C. Fannius Strabo, sponsored legislation that more precisely restricted public and private lavishness.108 By these measures Roman politicians warned of the pernicious effects of the truphe, or luxury, with which they associated Greek culture.109 The Roman response to Greek music and Greek dancing seems to tell the same story. Scipio Aemilianus, the protégé of Polybius, marked out the schools of music and dancing in a speech of 129, bemoaning the depravity of contemporary Roman youth.110 The veristic style of portraiture, a sexual vocabulary demeaning Greeks, periodic expulsions of Greek intellectuals from Rome, sumptuary legislation against the allure of the truphe associated with Greek society, and belittlement or attempted suppression of Greek cultural productions such as writing, music, and dancing all were by-products of the rapidly increasing importance of Greece and Greek culture in Roman politics, both external and internal, in the course of the second century. If Hellenism’s influence at Rome reached back to the very beginnings of the city, it is also true that the pace of the development of Roman ties to Greek culture quickened markedly in this period. Greek influences in earlier periods were simply part of an acculturation process, largely via Etruria and Magna Graecia, with relatively little political import; in Polybius’s lifetime, during which the Romans made themselves masters of the Mediterranean basin, Hellenism was politicized to an unprecedented degree at Rome. I argue that all of these developments represent more than a disingenu107. Liv. 34.1–8 (Oppian law); 34.4.3–4 (Cato’s remark); see also 25.40.2; Plut. Marc. 21; Plb. 9.10.1–13; ORF 3 no. 8 frag. 224, with Bonamente 1980: 69 nn. 11–12, 70–72 and nn. 29–33; Baltrusch 1988: 52–59. Cato had been alerted to the dangers of Greek luxury as a praetor to Sardinia in 198: Plut. Cat. Mai. 6. 108. Lex Orchia: Macrob. Sat. 3.17.2–3, with RE 18.1 col. 886 (Münzer); lex Fannia: Gell. NA 2.24.3–6; Macrob. Sat. 3.17.3–6, with Gruen 1990: 170–74. Macrobius (Cn. Gellius, frag. 27 P) establishes the chronological relationship between the lex Orchia and lex Fannia. For a collection of second-century leges sumptuariae, see Baltrusch 1988: 40–59, 61–93, and references to modern literature at 40 n. 3. 109. Liv. 39.6.7–9; Plin. NH 34.14; Val. Max. 9.1.3, with Gruen 1990: 171 and n. 50. 110. Macrob. Sat. 3.14.7–8. Note Nepos’s apologetic tone in mentioning Epaminondas’s learning in music and dancing (trivial pursuits for Romans) at Epam. 2–3, with Rawson 1985: 49; Marrou 1956: 247–48; and Dio 37.49.3 for the gibe that L. Afranius, the consul for 60, was a better dancer than politician.

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ous Roman aristocratic cultural stance against Hellenism. In his castigation of A. Postumius Albinus, Polybius explicitly states that many Roman aristocrats with great auctoritas looked down upon enthusiastic admiration of Greek culture among their compatriots. In a handbook for his son the elder Cato warned both of the dangers of an excessive devotion to Greek culture and of the murderous intent of Greek doctors. This would seem a most curious and indirect way of promoting a public cultural stance to which the Censor himself did not subscribe.111 In 186 the famous Bacchanalian incident again seems to suggest more than public display asserting a distinctively Roman cultural identity. In 181, as we have seen, the Senate approved the burning of Greek religious and philosophical books, another action that would have appeared excessive had it been merely a bit of political posturing. On such a view, it would also be difficult to come to terms with the wastage of material resources in the destruction in 154 of the Greek-style stone theater then under construction.112 Finally, we have the startling evidence for human sacrifice at Rome in times of perceived military crisis. Two pairs of victims were buried alive in the Forum Boarium. One pair were Gauls, representative of the centuries-old nemesis that the overwhelming Roman victory at Telamon in 225 to some degree had finally laid to rest. The other sacrificial victims, suggestively enough, were Greeks.113 In light of evidence such as this, we should be wary of assuming any significant degree of rationality in the cultural politics of the Roman senatorial aristocracy in the second century, and we should not see the Roman elite as calculating agents in firm control of the Romano-Greek cultural interface at this juncture in Roman history. As I shall argue further in chapter 7, it is probably more accurate to think of genuine distrust, resistance, and even antipathy toward Hellenism—along with curiosity, admiration, and adaptation (as in the case of Cato)—on the part of many Roman aristocrats in our period.

Some key points have emerged from our survey of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity for consideration of the politics of Polybius’s collective representations. Hellenism, informed by the principles of polarity and analogy, which 111. 39.1.3 (Albinus); Plin. NH 29.14, with Henrichs 1995: 246–47 and nn. 13–15. 112. App. BC 1.28; Liv. Per. 48; Val. Max. 2.4.2; Vell. Pat. 1.15.3; Oros. 4.21.4; August. C.D. 2.5, with Gruen 1990: 178 and n. 87; see also Futrell 1997: 42 and nn. 150–55. 113. See Eckstein 1982 passim, and 87 n. 2 for references on instances and dates of human sacrifice at Rome; see also Toynbee 1965: 2.381 and n. 3; Feig Vishnia 1996: 22; Twyman 1997; Futrell 1997: 169–210 for cross-cultural analysis of human sacrifice, 197–203 for the Forum Boarium. Cornell 1995: 325 and n. 87 dates the rite to the mid-fourth century; see also Clem. Al. Protr. 3.42.6–8 S; Gabba 1991: 106 n. 27 (Hercules and human sacrifice in Varro). Cf. Toynbee 1965: 1.24–28, 529–30, whose reconstruction of the Gallic sack of Rome would provide a possible origin for the enmity leading to the choice of Greeks and Gauls as sacrificial victims.

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are deeply ingrained in the ancient Greek cognitive map, has a rich history. This politico-cultural system moved along a continuum between civilized Greek and uncouth barbarian. In the flexibility of its applications Hellenism, first articulated in the fifth century in the aftermath of the Persian Wars, constituted a seemingly infinite discursive practice in the game of ancient Greek cultural politics. Concerning classical antiquity we may say generally that the designations of Hellene and barbarian were stable in terms of their evaluative forces: the former was a term of commendation, whereas the latter was the strongest mark of opprobrium. Concerning their referents, however, these designations were highly adaptable. This adaptability often followed the dictates of political needs. Non-Greek peoples could be incorporated into the Hellenic cultural commune according to a politics of cultural assimilation. Conversely, whenever political negotiation seemed likely to give way to overt hostilities, the barbarian category lay ready to hand to mark off the enemy according to a politics of cultural alienation. Significant political and military contacts between Greece and Rome in roughly 200–150 tested the politico-cultural system of Hellenism as never before. There is ample evidence in these years for both the politics of cultural assimilation and the politics of cultural alienation in Greek reactions to Rome, and this evidence indicates that Greek opinions on Rome were very divided in Polybius’s day. Hellenism took on an unprecedented politicization at Rome in the first decades of the second century, once Rome had been relieved of the burden of the Romano-Carthaginian wars. Roman politicians began to charge their opponents with excessive devotion to Greek culture, warning of the emasculating and corrupting effects of such overexposure. The intensity of the sporadic Roman state actions against Greek intellectuals and Greek cultural influences suggests that we are dealing with more than intramural politics of Roman cultural posturing. Romans clearly rushed to consume Greek cultural products, but there is also testimony in this period to a Roman distrust and even aversion to Greek culture. It is in this period in the history of Hellenism that Polybius composed his Histories. The Achaean historian found himself in a difficult position in which he had to steer a careful course between the Scylla of Greek opposition to Roman power in his homeland and the Charybdis of the uncertainties concerning Greek culture on the part of his Roman captors.

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Chapter 3

Genos Politeion Book 6, Rome, and Hellenism Compare the national character of each community with the laws and customs by which they are respectively governed, and, without an exception, the one will be found the archetype of the other. robert owen, A New View of Society

In the politico-cultural language of Hellenism, Polybius had a rich and adaptable ideological heritage at his disposal. Earlier Greek thinkers had worked out the causal factors determining where a particular people should fall in the continuum between the polarities of Hellene and barbarian. Polybius uses all of these criteria of causation in his work, but his focus on the nature and structure of politeiai allowed him the greatest degree of flexibility in placing the Romans on his Greek-barbarian grid. Polybius considers his account of the Roman constitution to be not only necessary for the plan of his work, but also essential reading for constitutional reformers (3.118.11–12). This account comes in book 6, which most clearly articulates the causal determinants in Polybius’s thinking for collective societal characteristics, and, by implication, for the designations of Hellene and barbarian. The sixth book, therefore, is the place to begin a study of Polybius’s cultural constructions of the Romans and other ethnic-cultural groups. Polybius’s treatment of the Roman state in book 6 is an exercise in analogy and polarity. These aspects of his representation of Rome in book 6 are most obvious in his description of the Roman political and military systems.1 The Roman politeia, analogous to the best rationally organized Greek states, was a political and military organization of awesome exactitude, symmetry, and efficiency.2 On the other hand, its unparalleled degree of organizational 1. 6.19–42; see also the comparison of Roman and (implied) Greek methods of dividing up war booty at 10.16.2–17.5; cf. Philip V’s high regard for the Roman political and military systems: Syll.3 543 (IV), lines 26–39; Liv. 31.34.8. 2. Cf. 5.90.8 on Hellenic logismos: Greeks surpass all others in recognizing the true value of things (Q plePston diafAroysin ˜Ellhne% tpn gllvn dnurapvn); see further appendix C.

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regularity and perfection made Rome strange to Polybius’s Greek audience. Although Polybius presents Rome in this book by way of analogy with Greek politeiai and couches his account in Greek political terminology, Greeks would nevertheless have been unable to find anything like the Roman political system, as represented by Polybius, in their own historical experience. And we find in Polybius’s prognosis for Rome’s future ideas that would have been congenial to Greek readers of anti-Roman sentiment. The Rome of book 6 is a nearly ideal state, but according to Polybius’s arguments based on phusis and the inevitable decay of states, despite the stabilizing powers of its “mixed” constitution, the Roman state’s “Hellenic” virtues cannot remain constant, and one day it too will fall.3 The primary objective of this chapter is to examine the relationship between Polybius’s causality for collective societal characteristics as they emerge from the sixth book and the implications his causal system presents for a Polybian cultural politics toward Rome. First, I analyze Polybius’s uses of the barbarian category. Polybius’s barbarology is in keeping with the longstanding evaluative ancient Greek construction of an Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity. A fairly rigid, and commonplace, semantics emerges, in which these terms serve as a sort of shorthand for impulsiveness, irrationality, intemperance, and greed. Conversely, the familiar Hellenic virtues of reason, moderation, and foresight are prime forces for civilization in Polybius’s mental universe. Next, I consider the intellectual heritage from which Polybius drew ideas on the formation of group characters, examining the causal factors Greek thinkers had devised to account for differences in collective societal characteristics. In other words, I consider causal explanations for the Hellenic-barbarian divide that Polybius’s predecessors had developed and Polybius’s uses of them. In the next two sections I examine Polybius’s representation of the Roman politeia and discuss the various ways in which Romans may occupy an ambiguous position in relation to Hellenism in book 6. In Polybius’s thought, state organizations, the structures of politeiai, turn out to be the most important factors in the formation of collective societal characteristics. These institutional factors are not in themselves historically stable, and that implies that over time a particular people may oscillate between the poles of Hellenism and barbarism, and that this oscillation may be seen as a function of the health of the communal organization. The simple constitutions in their healthy state are balanced and exercise reason, while chaos, disorder, and irrationality characterize their perverted forms. Of great importance to the 3. Four passages suggest that the “mixed” constitution is only relatively stable in comparison with the simple constitutional forms of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy: 6.10.7, 11, 14; 11.1, with Walbank 1943: 74 and n. 4; see Roveri 1964: 181–85, 194–97 for the Roman constitution as subject to the quasi-biological laws of genesis, acme, and decline.

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question of the Romans’ relation to the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity in Polybius’s conception is book 6’s account of the parekbasis, or perverted governmental form of ochlocracy, or mob rule, and the remarkable verbal parallels with Polybius’s language of barbarism that the account reveals. This parallelism is of crucial importance to my reading of Polybius’s text.4 The defining attributes of Hellenism—reason, order, temperance, and so on—are the result of good governmental structures and social institutions. Conversely, barbarism, as conceived by Polybius, is the result of institutional decay and societal corruption. Thus the Romans, like all other peoples, can be both Hellenes and barbarians at various points in their history. Historians have found the political analysis in book 6 to be perhaps the least satisfactory part of the Histories. A great deal of what we know to have been part of the workings of the Roman state, such as the extraconstitutional Roman social institution of patronage, Polybius chose to leave out of his account, though he must have observed it.5 Scholars have also noted incongruities in the political theory of book 6. In particular, they have identified problems in reconciling the theory of the stable and enduring mixed constitution and the inevitable, quasi-biological life cycle of states, which encompasses distinct periods of growth, acme, and decline; and they have complained of the difficulties in understanding the relationship between the anacylosis-theory, that is, the unending cycle of simple constitutional forms, and Polybius’s biological model of state evolution.6 Finally, there is the incongruity of Polybius’s schematic representation of the Roman constitution as a balanced combination of monarchical, aristocratic, and democratic elements and his statement that Rome had reached its prime during the Hannibalic War, when the Senate was predominant (6.51.6–7). Modern scholars have not missed an opportunity to disparage the failings in Polybius’s political analysis in book 6.7 Yet to focus on Polybius’s shortcomings as a political theorist in book 6 is essentially to misread the book. The seeming inconsistency in book 6 may well stem from the circumstances in which Polybius composed it, and we may profitably view it from the perspective of the politics of cultural indeterminacy. Both the schematism and the ambiguities in book 6 are closely tied to 4. See appendix A on the semantic nexus between Polybian ochlocracy and barbarism. 5. See Walbank 1972: 8; also Nicolet 1974: 215–22; Weil and Nicolet 1977: 37–38; Nippel 1980: 150–51; contra Edlund 1977. 6. Stability of the “mixed” constitution: 6.3.7, 10.6–14, 18.5–8; inevitability of decay: 6.4.11–13, 9.11–14, 51.3–8, 57.1–9. On these problems, see Brink and Walbank 1954: 102–7, 110–12; Walbank 1972: 130–56; Eisenberger 1982; cf. Taeger 1922: 108–9. 7. See, for example, Finley 1983: 127. Cf. Dubuisson 1985: 288, suggesting that we may explain inconsistencies in the Histories through Polybius’s global Greek outlook contaminated by an increasingly “Romanized” vision. For a more sympathetic treatment, see Lintott 1999: 16–26, and further references at 23 n. 24.

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Polybius’s didactic purposes, which in turn are politically motivated. We may read book 6 with a focus on Polybius’s intended Greek and Roman readerships and consider what messages this book intends to transmit to its multiple audiences. Such an approach helps us to understand the apparently inconsistent passages scholars have labored to explain away by positing shifts in Polybius’s political thinking, various periods of composition for particular sections,8 or unclear thinking on the part of Polybius.9 A reading of the political theory in book 6 that focuses on Polybius’s audiences resolves many of these problems, and indeed opens the way to a Polybian cultural politics toward Rome.

The Barbarian Category in Polybius’s Thought For Polybius, barbarians, along with mercenaries, the masses, youth, and women, posed a threat to the social order. Yet barbarians were perhaps the most serious threat of all to civilized society. The leadership of the adult male aristocracy, in Polybius’s view, was the only bulwark against these irrational forces, and reasoning power, or logismos, was the weapon it could use to combat them.10 As we saw in chapter 2, the term barbaros was used in classical antiquity for the most part to designate everything that was antithetical to the desirable characteristics of the good and orderly society. Barbaros was essentially a negative term that took on meaning only when opposed to Hellenism. It marked the absence of temperance, moderation, balance, and reason, which were the hallmarks of the Hellenic, civilized community. Polybius follows the conventional application of the term in his use of barbaros and its cognates (see appendix B for occurrences of the term and its cognates in the Histories). But in Polybius’s time barbaros was more than a term for the vacuous mentality of humankind’s animal nature. It conjured up images of a very real and constant threat in a world of barbarian incursions. The Gallic attack on Delphi in 279 had left an indelible impression on the Greek historical imagination of Polybius’s day; in a remarkable passage (2.35), which I will 8. Mioni 1949: 50 n. 1 for early proponents of various layers and different times of composition for book 6; Walbank 1943; Theiler 1953; Cole 1964: Polybius drew on two traditions, one Peripatetic (A) and one “popular” (B); Eisen 1966: 97 n. 251; Nippel 1980: 144 and n. 9. Scholars generally abandoned this approach after the defense of unitary composition in Brink and Walbank 1954. 9. Both Graeber 1968: 75–92 and Podes 1991 elaborately attempt to reconcile Polybius’s conception of the mixed constitution and his anacyclosis-theory; but see Walbank HC 1.647–48 for criticism. 10. Eckstein 1995b: 118–60. See the panegyric to reason at 16.28.1–3; also 1.35.1–7; 2.35.5–10, with Walbank HC 1.7 and n. 8; cf. Mioni 1949: 94–98 for comparisons of Polybius’s stress on human moderation and rationality and divine and mythical elements in the Latin historiographical tradition.

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consider in greater detail in chapter 4, the historian uses this event in a prescriptive reflection of the superiority of Hellenic logismos over barbarian thumos.11 Although we shall see that Polybius’s political theory insists that no ethnic group, including the Greeks themselves, has a perennial claim to Hellenic virtue, it is the case that in Polybius’s narrative Greeks and Romans frequently emerge as practitioners of logismos against the irrational thumos of their opponents (see appendix C). This narrative pattern is pervasive in the Histories. Polybius states that in the early stages of the Hannibalic War, the Iberian Abilyx treacherously handed over Carthaginian hostages to the Romans. He remarks that this action betrayed a mentality thoroughly Iberian and barbarian. In the context of Polybius’s barbarology, the description here is practically an oxymoron (3.98.4: syllogismbn . . . barbarikan). In the account of the Celtiberian or “Fiery” War of 152/151, we read that although they were barbaroi, the tribe of the Aravacae were able to engage in rational discourse, insofar as they laid their case out before the Senate (35.2.6: kaAper gnte% barbaroi). Here the concessive clause is telling. King Prusias II of Bithynia comes under Polybius’s severest censure. The king, according to the historian, lacked paideia and was entirely given over to a life of brutish sensuality. This sort of life could only be described as barbaric (36.15.6: barbaron bAon). An episode in Polybius’s description of Antiochus III’s expedition against Arsaces II of Parthia in 210/209 forms a good case study in the contrasts between Hellenic rationality and barbarian irrationality and in the decided superiority of the former. Polybius’s account of Antiochus’s expedition begins and ends with the polis, the bulwark of Hellenism against the irrational forces of barbarism. Polybius observes that Media was protected from the neighboring barbarian peoples by the ring of poleis Alexander the Great had founded.12 Antiochus drew upon the wealth of Ecbatana for the sinews of war; he there found enough gold and silver to coin money amounting to the incredible sum of four thousand talents (10.27.10–13). Seleucid intelligence of the underground water sources surprised Arsaces, who had assumed that Antiochus, ignorant of this water supply, would not dare cross the desert from Ecbatana to Hecatompylus in central Parthia with such a large army (28.1–7). Upon Antiochus reaching Hecatompylus, Polybius takes pains to emphasize Antiochus’s foresight and planning. The king was able to see through Arsaces’ ruse, declining battle at a stronghold of Parthian power (29.1: syllogisameno%). Polybius remarks that anyone who can reason properly would see what the Parthian monarch’s real intentions 11. Gauls at Delphi: Nachtergael 1977; Champion 1995; 1996 on 2.35; cf. 5.64.5 for the pairing of Hellenic martial prowess (^EllhnikaP% crmaP%) and DpAnoia, a Polybian term denoting the intellectual component attendant upon effective action; Pédech 1964: 82–83. 12. 10.27.3–4, with the comments of Sherwin-White and Kuhrt 1993: 59.

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were (29.2: toP% drup% skopoymAnoi%). Antiochus therefore decided to march into Hyrcania. When the king reached Tagai, he learned through interrogation of inhabitants of the region that his route to Mount Labus, descending into Hyrcania, was most difficult and that the passes were infested with barbarians. Antiochus determined to meet this challenge by breaking up his light-armed troops and assigning them various routes, as well as by distributing his workmen among the light-armed troops in order that they could prepare the way for the phalanx and baggage train (10.29.3–5). Having made all these provisions (29.5: taPta dB dianohueA%), the king prepared his fighting units, entrusting his skirmishers to Diogenes, who earlier had served as the Seleucid governor of Susa. Despite these careful preparations, the way was more difficult than Antiochus had anticipated, and the situation was made worse by barricades constructed by the barbarians, who themselves occupied the best positions on the heights (30.1–3). All would have been lost, had not the barbarians made a serious miscalculation. They had not foreseen that Antiochus could divide up his forces and use his light-armed troops to ascend the heights inaccessible to the phalanx and baggage train (30.5: oDk Gblecan). Diogenes, with his light-armed troops, made a flanking movement by means of which he attained the higher ground and dislodged the barbarians with a barrage of missiles, affording Antiochus’s workmen time to clear the way for the main army. At Mount Labus Antiochus again was able to outflank the barbarians, who, awestruck, fled in panic (31.3–4: ptohuAnte%). Antiochus, on the other hand, remained self-possessed in the flush of victory and kept his army in proper marching formation (31.4–5). The final phase of this episode takes place at the Hyrcanian stronghold of Sirynx, to which the barbarians had retreated. Antiochus’s siege of Sirynx was effective, and the barbarians fell into a state of utter perplexity (31.11: oQ symbanto% diatrapAnte% oC barbaroi toP% eloi%). They proceeded to murder the Greek residents of the place, plunder it, and escape into the night. Pursued by Antiochus’s lieutenant Hyperbas, they abandoned their booty and aimlessly returned to the town. The end came when Antiochus’s peltasts secured a breach in the walls and the barbarians surrendered. Hyrcania thereafter lay open before Antiochus. In this account, we see a prime example of Hellenic reason triumphing over barbarian shortsightedness. From seemingly impregnable positions, the barbarians are repeatedly outwitted by Antiochus, until in the end they are reduced to helplessness and hand themselves over to the king.13 13. Cf. 11.34.1–6: the Bactrian ruler Euthydemus pleads with Antiochus III’s envoy Teleas to grant him the title king, as they both must combine their forces to protect Hellenism against the barbarians, with Holt 1999: 126–33. For the aftermath of Antiochus’s expedition to the Upper Regions between 212 and 204, see now Ma 1999: 63–73.

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This episode is paradigmatic of the crucial role of Greek logismos opposed to barbarian thumos in the Histories, but logismos is not the exclusive preserve of Greeks in Polybius’s text. As we shall see, for Polybius logismos is the product of the structure of the politeia, not of ethnicity. Greeks and Romans on occasion act irrationally in the Histories, and the non-Greek enemy of Rome, the Carthaginian commander Hannibal Barca, himself the product of a wellordered city-state significant enough to be included in the political analysis of book 6, employs logismos in outwitting his Roman opponents in the field. But if rationality is the key characteristic of Hellenic virtue, then we can see that the barbarian, by way of contrast, frequently points out the Hellenism of the Romans in Polybius’s work. The account of the culminating battle between Romans and Gauls at Telamon in 225, which precedes the reflective passage on the superiority of Hellenic logismos at 2.35, presents the differences between the opposing forces of Hellenic order and rationality and barbarian chaos and irrationality in action. As a counterweight to Gallic rage and desperate fury, we learn that the Roman consul and his army, much like Antiochus III on Mount Labus, exhibited self-possession in the flush of victory, with the consul in the battle’s aftermath sending the spoils of the barbarians back to Rome and returning their booty to its rightful owners.14 Polybius’s treatment of the activities of Scipio Africanus in Spain again shows Roman foresight and calculation in opposition to barbarian unreasoning and incompetence. In 206 Scipio prepared to meet the forces of Andobales, the chieftain of the Iberian Ilergetes. Before the engagement, Scipio reasoned with his troops that as in the past they had defeated the combined forces of Carthaginians and Iberians, they should have no doubt as to the outcome of the impending battle against the Iberians alone. Scipio then went on the march and eventually took up a position opposite Andobales, with a valley intervening between the Roman and barbarian forces. He drove some of the cattle attending the Roman army into this valley, and the Iberians, impelled by characteristic barbarian greed, immediately fell upon the proffered booty. This created an excellent opportunity for the Roman attack. After the initial skirmishes, the Iberians drew up their entire force, both infantry and cavalry, on the level ground in the valley. The barbarian Ilergetes took this precipitous move because they had been exasperated (11.32.5: parojynuAnte% oC barbaroi) by the subordinate officer Laelius’s maneuver of cutting off some of their skirmishers from the main body of their army on the hillside. In a single sentence Polybius juxtaposes Scipio’s ability to take in the entire situation of the moment and the illogicality of the movements of the Ilergetes (11.32.6: uevrpn . . . dlogAstv%). Needless to say, the barbarians, bottled up in the valley and pressed frontally and on their 14. 2.31.1–4, with Walbank HC 1.204–7; Champion 2000b: 430. See Eckstein 1987b: 3–23 on Romano-Gallic wars of this period.

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flanks by the Romans as a result of their strategic blindness, were annihilated, with only those few who remained on the hillside escaping to safety.15 The Constantinian excerptors have preserved yet another good illustration of Romans qua Hellenes pitted against barbarian mindlessness. According to the Polybian account, the Greek city of Massilia sent an embassy to Rome complaining of the depredations of the Ligurians against Massilia, Antipolis, and Nicaea. The Senate dispatched legates to order the Ligurian tribesmen to raise their siege of Massilia. This embassy arrived with senatorial remonstrances against Ligurian behavior at the town of Aegitna in the territory of the tribe of the Oxybii. The Roman entreaty fell on deaf ears, and the embassy soon found itself under attack. The legate Flaminius himself barely escaped back to safety at Massilia. After this provocative assault on Roman dignitas, the Senate dispatched an armed force under the consul Q. Opimius to deal with the barbarian Oxybii and Decietae. Opimius quickly reduced Aegitna, where the Roman legates had been treacherously assaulted, and proceeded to send its inhabitants into slavery and the instigators of the outrage to Rome. The Oxybii, with a characteristic barbarian lack of foresight and planning, rushed headlong into battle without waiting for reinforcement from their allies, the tribe of the Decietae. The actual battle serves as a synopsis of the opposed essences of barbarian irrationality and irresolution and Roman (Hellenic) reason and fortitude: The Oxybii, thinking that their offense against the legates was inexpiable, showed extraordinary spirit, and with frenzied eagerness for the fray (paralagi tinB xrhsamenoi uymu kaB labante% crmbn parastatikan), before being joined by the Decietae, collected a force of about four thousand men and threw themselves on the enemy. Opimius, seeing the barbarians attack him so boldly, was amazed at their desperate courage (tbn dpanoian); but knowing that they had no good grounds for this display of valor (mhdAni lagi taAtÌÌi xrvmAnoy% toB% DxuroA%), felt full of confidence, as he was a practiced commander and exceedingly intelligent.

In this passage, Polybius repeatedly underscores the contrast between the unreflecting and mindless courage of the Oxybii and the vision, resolve, experience, and intelligence of the consul Opimius.16 In an uncoordinated and unsynchronized movement, the Decietae met Opimius in battle only after the defeat of the Oxybii and were quickly dispatched by the consul 15. 11.31.1–33.6, with Walbank HC 2.309–12; see Scullard 1930: 152 for a plan of the Ebro; cf. Eckstein 1995b: 121–22 on these passages illustrating Roman logismos vs. barbarian thumos. 16. 33.10.5–7; Liv. Per. 47, with Walbank HC 3.549–53; Ebel 1976: 58–59. parastatika% frequently has the meaning of “desperate” or “furious” in Polybius: LSJ 9 1325 s.v. (IV); Glockmann and Helms, Polyb.-Lex., col. 118, I.2b. For analogous uses of participles such as Ddan and uevrpn for the rational vision of the field commander, see 3.42.5, 51.6, 100.1–2, 111.1, with Pédech 1964: 242–43 and n. 174, 376.

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(33.10.9–12). In such passages as these, where the Romans and their exercise of reason are juxtaposed to chaotic barbarian mindlessness, Rome partakes of Hellenic virtue. In terms of the cultural politics of Hellenism framed in chapter 2, we may say that in such passages Polybius engages in a politics of cultural assimilation of Rome to Hellenism. In arguing for a Polybian politics of cultural indeterminacy, I shall later provide in chapter 6 evidence for a politics of cultural alienation regarding Rome in the Histories. There we shall consider several passages in which Polybius implies that the Romans are barbarians. I argue that the key to this Polybian cultural indeterminacy regarding Rome lies in Polybius’s ideas on the historical determinants for collective societal characteristics, and we find his system of causation laid out explicitly in book 6. A preliminary survey of the ancient Greek intellectual tradition on causal factors in the development of collective societal characteristics prepares the way for consideration of book 6 as an ideological maneuver in the cultural politics of Hellenism.

Greek Causal Explanations for Group Characteristics Polybius drew upon a Greek intellectual tradition that offered three basic approaches to the observed differences among collective peoples: (1) nature, (2) climate and environment, and (3) state organization. Brief discussion of this third category will preclude anachronistic misconceptions of the Greek conception of politeia as being restricted to formal constitutional structures. For Polybius, state organizations, the constituents of his politeiai, encompass a broad band of political, social, religious, legal, and aesthetic institutions, and in this he is in the mainstream of Greek political thought.17 What would appear to moderns as distinct categories, formal governmental structures and informal social and cultural practices, formed a complex whole in ancient Greek thought on politeiai, and therefore we find ethical preoccupations at the heart of both Plato’s and Aristotle’s political theories. Likewise, in Roman thought we would try in vain to disentangle the moral, religious, political, and cultural components of an idea such as mores.18 And it is worth noting that such apparent ambiguity is characteristic of societies with codified legal systems that are not comprehensive by modern standards.19 17. E.g., 1.13.12 (Rome and Carthage in First Romano-Carthaginian War); 2.39.6 (Italiot Greeks); 6.47.1–2: law and custom (Guh kaB namoi) as the two fundamental ingredients of every state; 6.53.1–54.4 (inclusion of Roman funeral practices in discussion of Roman politeia), with Martínez-Lacey 1991. The close linkage between laws and customs is apparent in the substantive use of the neuter plural of the adjective nomima to mean “usages, customs”: LS J 9 1179 col. II (II), to which add Plb. 5.106.1; cf. Ryffel 1949: 195 n. 354; Pédech 1964: 303; Nicolet 1974: 212, 216–17; Weil and Nicolet 1977: 15. 18. See Ryffel 1949: 179; cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1997: 9–11, focusing on Augustan Rome. 19. See Eder 1986: 272–73.

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We may first consider a causality based on what might be termed innate or natural characteristics. For several reasons, it is best to avoid terms such as “racial” or even “proto-racial” to describe this explanatory category in ancient Greek thought. The term “race” itself did not find its way into the European languages until about the beginning of the sixteenth century, and it is impossible to disentangle present-day ideologies from the concept of “racism,” as the term itself is a product of the twentieth century.20 Moreover, the very idea of race is a socio-politico-cultural construct; it is not a universal designation of any objective validity in the social sciences. Its precise meaning, therefore, is extremely difficult to articulate.21 And the terms “racial” and “racist” are particularly valueless in discussions of classical antiquity, where other evaluative hierarchies refreshingly take precedence over one set up on the basis of skin color.22 Yet, notwithstanding these important observations on ancient Greek and Roman cultural perceptions, Greek thinkers could posit, in justification of the institution of chattel slavery, a rough equation in which the non-Greek, the barbarian, became a slave by nature. It is of course a widespread, transhistorical ideological maneuver to make appeals to nature, what the Greeks would call phusis, in order to justify conventional and arbitrary societal practices.23 Aristotle at one point maintains that nature gave humankind warfare in order that men could establish the natural hierarchy of masters and slaves.24 The naturally servile, according to his account, were incapable of exercising reason, and therefore they were better off when ruled by those who did possess that highest of human capabilities, just as the body is better off when ruled by the mind.25 Aristotle employed the principle of analogy in order to justify his idea of the slave by nature. The master-slave relationship aligns with other hierarchical, evaluative polarities in addition to the divide between reason and emotion, such as the polarities between mind and body and man and beast. Aristotle also brings the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity into this discussion. He could equate the chattel slave and the barbarian in 20. See Banton 1987 on “race”; 1988: 26 on “racism”; cf. Hannaford 1996: 3–16. Well into the seventeenth century, the differences between English settlers and African slaves in colonial America were measured in terms of religion, not physical appearance; see Horowitz 1985: 43 and n. 126. 21. See Banton 1988: 9. 22. See Snowden 1970: 169–95 and references to earlier studies at 169 nn. 1–8; cf. Snowden 1983: 75–79, 108; Thompson 1989: 24. 23. See Bourdieu 1977: 164–66; for phusis in sexual politics in classical Athenian rhetoric, cf. Winkler 1990: 64–70. 24. Arist. Pol. 1256b20–26; cf. 1254a30–32. Garnsey 1996: 108–10 conveniently assembles Aristotelian passages on the “natural slave”; see also Garlan 1988: 119–26. 25. Arist. Pol. 1254b20–24; see also 1260a12.

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an argument whose basis lay in the idea of phusis; there were in the world some people who were intended by nature’s design to be slaves.26 Such views, however, did not form anything like a consensus among Greek intellectuals. Although there are conspicuous examples of ideas on Hellenes as a descent group outside of the Aristotelian corpus,27 we also find unambiguous rejections of the notion of an inherent Greek superiority over non-Greeks. Gorgias’s student Alcidamus maintained that the deity had made all men free; nature had made no man a slave. The Syracusan comic poet Philemon stated that no man was ever born a slave by nature; it was fortune that enslaved his body. Stoic philosophers were uninterested in the question of the institution of chattel slavery, as it was among indifferent externals. According to their philosophical system, the only slavery that exists by nature lies within the human heart; slavery was an internal state for those who allowed themselves to be controlled by passions and emotion.28 Moreover, as I argued in chapter 2, the discursive system of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity was remarkable in the flexibility of its applications, and here the idea of immutable natural characteristics in particular peoples would appear to be of little use. Often the idea of phusis as a factor in a given people’s collective qualities is left unarticulated, and exactly what is meant by the term is not explained, or the idea is conflated with other explanatory devices. As an example of the former, Pindar vaguely refers to an “innate character” of the western Locrians. Isocrates provides a conspicuous example of the latter in his Panegyricus. He castigates Persian and Trojan barbarians, calling them “enemies by nature,” but earlier in the work he discusses cultural influences that have made Persian phusis inferior to that of the Greeks.29 Appeals to nature as a determinant of group characteristics play a small role in Polybius’s Histories. There is, however, a striking instance of this causal explanation in Polybius’s discussion of the advantages the Romans enjoyed over the Carthaginians in the Hannibalic War, where Italians surpass 26. Arist. Pol. 1252b5–9, with reference to Eur. Iphig. Aul. 1400; see also 1255a28–38, with Smith 1983; and the near equation of fAsi% and gAnesi% at Met. 1014b16–17; cf. Capelle 1932: 107–10, esp. 108 and n. 5. For the Platonic base of these ideas, see Pl. Resp. 590c–d; Lg. 966b; also Resp. 469b–c, with Garnsey 1997: 159 n. 1. 27. E.g., Hdt. 8.144.2; Thuc. 1.3 (eponymous Hellen); cf. Paus. 8.43.5 (Antoninus Pius: Hellenes as descent group). The idea persists in Galen, who comments on those who are barbarians by descent, but who aspire to Hellenic culture: CMG 5.4.2.17–18, lines 22–25 (p. 24), with Bowersock 1992: 250. 28. Alcidamus: schol. ad Arist. Rhet. 1373b H; Philemon frag. 95; see also frag. 22 K; on the Stoics and slavery, see Garnsey 1997. 29. Pi. O. 11.19–20: tb DmfyB% . . . ruo% (“inborn . . . character”); Isoc. 4.150–55, 158: fAsei polemikp% prb% aDtoB% Gxomen (“we are hostilely disposed toward them by nature”).

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Carthaginian forces “by nature” (6.52.10: fAsei). “Nature” can also explain individuals’ actions in Polybius. Bolis, as a Cretan, was by nature (fAsei) crafty.30 The Carthaginian general Bostar was naturally guileless and of even temperament (3.98.6); Hermeias, the Seleucid grand vizier, was of a savage disposition by nature (5.41.3); the Achaean hero Philopoemen was by nature a man of sound judgment (21.32c.4); and, in a passage discussed above, the Roman commander Opimius naturally had a sharp military sense (33.10.6).31 At other times, Polybius writes of universal human characteristics as natural forces,32 but he also points out that individual natures, multiform and idiosyncratic, are most difficult to read.33 The comparison of Roman soldiers to Phoenicians and Libyans and these examples of phusis informing individual behavior are examples in Polybius of appeals to nature as causation in the human realm, but even in these passages Polybius does not articulate exactly what he means by phusis. For the most part, Polybius does not employ the argument of nature as an exhaustive casual explanation for collective societal characteristics. The influence of environmental factors was another explanation proposed by Greek thinkers for the observable differences among peoples. According to some ancient Greek accounts, geographical and climatic conditions could have a profound influence upon both physical and behavioral collective group characteristics. In the fifth century Herodotus was well aware of the importance of climate and geography in human affairs. He reports that the Ionians of Asia selected for their cities a region where the air and climate are the most beautiful in the world. He also states that while the extreme regions of the earth provide excellent natural products, Greece enjoys the most excellently tempered climate. Herodotus closes his historical work with a lesson in geographical determinism. Cyrus the Great’s aphorism warns that soft countries produce soft men: were the Persians to inhabit lands producing delightful and abundant produce, they would soon lose their warlike nature. In the next century, Ephorus divided the world into four climatic regions, the homelands of very distinctive peoples.34 In several passages, Plato also subscribes to the theory of environ-

30. 8.16.4, with Herman 1997: 209–10. 31. See further 3.78.7; 9.24.3; 23.13.1 (Hannibal); 5.1.7 (Eperatus); 5.39.6 (Cleomenes); 7.4.6 (Hieronymus); 8.22.1 (Cavarus); 10.26.8 (Philip); 16.21.2–3 (Tlepolemus); 21.7.5 (Pamphilidas); 22.21.2–3 (Ortiagon); 22.22.3–4 (Aristonicus); 23.7.5–6 (Perseus); 27.15.6–7 (Charops); 31.12.1–3 (Demetrius); 32.2.5 (Isocrates the Syrian); 38.8.7 (Hasdrubal). 32. E.g., 6.6.2, 7.1; 14.1a.3; 16.28.7; 27.9.5–6, 10.5; 29.22.1–2; 31.6.6; 36.13.3. 33. See 4.8.6–10, with Treu 1954/55: 224; Pédech 1964: 204–53. 34. Hdt. 1.142; 3.106; 9.122, with Lateiner 1989: 49; Ephorus, FGrH 70 F 30 (Strabo 1.2.28 [C 34]); see Jüthner 1923: 54 and nn. 131–32 for Greek attempts to define climatic zones.

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mental determinism.35 In the late republican period Posidonius remarked that the coarse manners and customs of the barbarian tribesmen of northern Spain were the result of the remoteness and rough character of the mountainous regions in which they lived. Conversely, in the Augustan age Vitruvius argued for the superiority of the Roman people on the basis of geography and climate. Pliny the Elder saw the differences between the inhabitants of the northern and southern parts of the world as deriving from their relative distances from the sun, and numerous sources report that the dark skin of the Ethiopians is caused by the scorching sun in their part of the world.36 The fifth-century Hippocratic treatise Airs, Waters, Places offers a detailed discussion of the relationship between climate and collective behavioral characteristics. Here we read that the chief reason that Asiatics are unwarlike is the uniformity of the seasons in their part of the world. The seasons in Asia, according to the author, are not subject to the extremes of heat and cold. In such a climate there are none of the mental shocks or sudden physical changes necessary to produce a warlike spirit. Consequently, the Asiatic peoples are weak (analkes).37 Aristotle provides a striking formulation of the theory of environmental determinism. In a well-known passage from book 7 of his Politics, he provides the most memorable illustration of this causal explanation for group differences.38 Aristotle’s comments are particularly interesting in that they provide, by an appeal to nature, an ideological justification for Greeks to dominate non-Greek peoples. Those inhabiting the extreme geographical zones display collective deficiences in character produced by the climatic excesses themselves. Occupying the juste milieu, the Greeks have the potential of ruling the world. Combined with his notorious ideas on the “natural slave” in book 1 of the Politics, Aristotle’s environmental theories would seem to overdetermine the non-Greek as naturally servile. And we have already seen the same sort of ideological maneuver, mutatis mutandis, in Vitruvius. Here Rome now occupies the climatological golden mean; it is perfectly situated in terms of geography to rule the world (De Arch. 6.1.11). The idea that geography and climate may play a crucial role in deter-

35. E.g., Pl. Resp. 435e; Lg. 747c–d; Ti. 24c–d; cf. Criti. 111e. 36. Posidonius ap. Strabo 3.3.8 (C 156); see also 3.4.13 (C 163), with Swain 1996: 205 and n. 62; Vitruv. De Arch. 6.1.9–11, with Jüthner 1923: 81 n. 209 and Rawson 1985: 166; Plin. NH 2.189–90; on Ethiopians, see Snowden 1970: 170–76; 258 n. 6; 261 n. 23; 264 n. 49; 1983: 85–87. For a survey of the history of the idea of environmental determinism, see Thompson 1989: 100–105, and assembled references at nn. 59, 73–75; 129–30 and n. 161. 37. Hp. Aër. 16 and 24, with Backhaus 1976. 38. Arist. Pol. 1327b23–33; see also 1285a19–22.

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mining the collective characteristics of particular peoples, then, was a commonplace in classical antiquity and easily lent itself to imperialistic ideologies. Polybius may have had a great deal to say on the subject in a separate geographical treatise.39 A passage in book 4 demonstrates his subscription to ideas of environmental determinism. Polybius here discusses the group character of the Arcadian people and the ways in which Arcadians combated the effects of their harsh, cold climate. He adds that atmospheric conditions are the cause of differences in a people’s character, features, color, and social practices.40 By our very natures, Polybius maintains, we are forced to adjust to environmental conditions, and those conditions have determinate effects on our character. The implication in this passage is that all men (pante% gnurvpoi) are primordially the same, but since they must adapt themselves to the environments in which they find themselves, different physical environments will ultimately produce different sorts of men. The passage also argues against the idea that Polybius viewed different characteristics among peoples as being something innate. The impact of state organization on collective behaviors occupies the first place in ancient Greek theorizing on the causality of group characteristics. Civilized society and life in the polis formed a tautology for the Greeks, and the political community of the polis, at least according to theory, was founded on obedience to codified law and ancestral practices. Homer characterized the brutish Cyclopes as beings without any formal institutional structures for law and order, in the fourth century Isocrates referred to the politeia or state institutional superstructure as “the soul of the polis,” and Aristotle stated that the politeia is the life of the polis.41 Of course the political community of the polis was exclusive to the Greek people, and barbarian or non-Greek peoples therefore could not know the highest forms of civilization, except where they adopted Greek institutions. This distinction is underscored in the sixth-century Milesian poet Phokylides’ fragment comparing the unassuming but well-ordered polis and “senseless Nineveh” (Sent. frag. 4D). Plato encapsulates the Greek conception of the molding influence of institutions upon human character in his aphorism 39. Geminus eDsagvgb eD% tb fainamena C 16.12 (Plb. 34.1.7–13), with Walbank HC 1.6 with nn. 7–9. It is unclear as to whether this is a separate work or a discussion in book 34; see Walbank 1948: 177; on Polybian geography, see Pédech 1964: 515–97; Clarke 1999: 77–128. 40. 4.21.1–3, with Pédech 1964: 580–81 and n. 373; cf. 34.9.3 (Strabo 3.2.15 [C 151]): climate and the character of the Iberian Turdetani. 41. Hom. Od. 9.112; in this connection, see Timaeus, FGrH 566 F 69; App. Illyr. 2; Natale Conti, Myth. 9.8, reflecting a tradition that has the Cyclops Polyphemus as the sire of Galates, eponym of the Gauls, whom the Greek and Roman literary tradition characterized as a barbarous people of unbridled passions and lawlessness; see Eckstein 1995b: 122–24 and nn. 12, 15–18; Champion 1996: 326 n. 54. Isoc. 12.138; see also 7.14, with Aalders 1968: 2 n. 2; Arist. Pol. 1295a40–b1; 1295a25; Plut. Mor. 826c.

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that “the politeia is the nurse of men.” Both Plato and Aristotle subscribe to the idea of a compulsory state system of education that molds the desired sort of citizen, and in the Laws Plato makes the most important of his nomophulakes, or Guardians of the Laws, the one in charge of education.42 The idea that the institutional structures of the polis determine in large part a given people’s character underlies Plato’s Laws and Republic and Aristotle’s Politics. Both philosophers draw the closest of connections between the formal institutional structures of the state and peoples’ characters. In the Republic, Plato argues that it is easier to find justice in the analysis of the politeia than in that of the individual soul, as the contours of the former are larger and more easily discerned. Once discovered in the politeia, the same justice may be extrapolated for discussions of the individual. In a celebrated passage, Aristotle stresses the primacy of political association, stating that man is a politikon zoon; that is, “man is a being whose highest goal, whole telos (end), is by nature to live in a polis”; and the man who does not need to live in such a community is either a beast or a god.43 Aristotle’s Constitution of the Athenians, rediscovered in the late nineteenth century, represents but one of 158 Peripatetic analyses of the politeiai of both Greek and non-Greek peoples.44 Pericles, in his famous Funeral Oration as Thucydides represents it, points to the Athenian system of government as the cornerstone of both Athenian character and Athenian success. Herodotus illustrates the ancient Greek preoccupation with political organization in the Constitutional Debate of Persian nobles, and, for him, Athenian martial prowess was a direct result of political freedom. Plutarch records that Alexander founded some seventy Greek-style poleis in his march to the east and that this political form served to civilize the barbarians whom he encountered. Even in Airs, Waters, Places, the ancient Greek environmental determinist tract par excellence, concession is made to the mitigating factor of governmental institutions.45 Polybius conforms to the ancient Greek preoccupation with communal organization in viewing the institutional foundations of society as the most 42. Pl. Mx. 238c1. Plato frequently links the condition of the politeia and that of the individual soul: e.g., Resp. 445c4–d1; 449a1–5; 605b2–c4; Lg. 743d7–744a4; 835c1–8; 960d1–4. On state-controlled educational systems, see Pl. Lg. 765d4–66b1 (guardian of education); 804c8–d6; Arist. Pol. book 8 passim. 43. Pl. Resp. 368d1–369b4; Arist. Pol. 1253a1–29; Finley 1983: 25 for the translation of Aristotle’s politikon zoon; cf. SVF 3.314 (Chrysippus): fAsei politikb zua (“political beings by nature”). 44. See Fritz and Kapp 1974 for convenient translation and commentary; Keaney 1992 for exhaustive analysis. 45. Thuc. 2.36.4; Hdt. 3.80–83; 5.78, with How and Wells 1967/68: 44 ad loc. on the meaning of isegoria; see Lateiner 1989: 158–62 on the primacy of political institutions in Herodotus; Plut. Mor. 328e; Hp. Aër. 16.

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important determinant in the formation of group characters.46 Reconsideration of the Polybian passages discussed above in relation to the “natural” and geographical/climatic explanations of group diversity reveal the paramount importance of political and social institutions in his thought. At 6.52.10, he states that the Italians are superior by nature (fAsei) to Phoenicians and Libyans, both in physical strength and courage, but he hastens to add that Roman institutions foster this bravery (6.52.10–11). In the passage in book 4 where Polybius attributes the Arcadians’ physical and behavioral characteristics to geographical location and climatic conditions (4.21.1–3), he argues that this people was able to combat the effects of a harsh environment by instituting musical training, festivals, and sacrifices. The Cynaethaeans ignored these institutions and became utterly savage as a result.47 He concludes the digression on musical education in Arcadia with a lesson for the Cynaethaeans: it is paideia and paideia alone that can save them from the beastlike nature (dgriath%) they exhibited at this time (4.21.11–12). Polybius’s account of the origins of human communities reveals a dim view of humankind in what we might call its primordial state. He considers that human societies arise in the first place as a result of weakness (6.5.7). Political, legal, religious, aesthetic, educational, and social institutions must all be marshaled in order to pacify humankind’s beastly nature (5.75.2–3; 15.21.5). When these are dysfunctional, disaster results. In 202, the misconduct of affairs and poor conditions of their governmental institutions led the people of Cius into self-inflicted misfortune. Similarly, the Boeotian alleged motives against Rome in 191 were the murder of Brachylles and Flamininus’s punitive expedition against Coronea, but the true cause of the disturbance was Boeotian viciousness resulting from institutional decadence.48 While we find evidence in the Histories for appeals to nature as well as for Polybius’s subscription to environmental-determinist explanations in order to account for the observable differences among peoples, a state’s constitution is far and away the greatest factor in its success or failure in Polybius’s system of causa46. E.g., 1.1.5, 64.2–6; 6.2.3; 8.2.3; 39.8.7; cf. Pédech 1964: 38 nn. 73–74; Ziegler cols. 1513–15. 47. 4.21.3–12. Note the adverbial emphasis in this passage on collective harmony: cmoAv%, cmoP, syllabdhn. The Stoic Diogenes of Babylon may here have been an influence; see Pédech 1964: 307 n. 17. But nineteenth-century arguments of Hirzel and von Scala for Polybian Stoicism are based on little evidence, and I leave them aside in this study; here I am in agreement with Walbank HC 1.296 (“[Stoicism is] not to be overstressed in a writer who was not by temperament a philosopher”). See Pl. Protag. 326b; Resp. 392c–403c, 410a–12a, 424b–25a, 522a; Lg. 644e–61d, 668a–c, 799a–803a; Arist. Pol. 1339a11–1342b34 for classic discussions of music and manners; cf. Urban 1979: 180 n. 323. 48. 15.21.3–4 (Cius); 20.7.3–4 (Boeotians), with Pédech 1964: 90.

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tion.49 Constitutions are the generative forces for the practical intentions and initial actions underlying the true causes and formal beginnings of historical agents’ actions.50 In his account of the so-called Truceless War, the war between the Carthaginians and their mercenaries in the aftermath of the First RomanoCarthaginian War, Polybius stresses the bestiality of the rebellious mercenary troops. He here emphasizes the crucial difference between an inarticulate, confused horde of barbarians and those who have been reared and educated in a law-abiding, political community (1.65.8). Much like the Cynaethaeans in Arcadia, the Carthaginian mercenaries, without the benefits of paideia, in the end became so utterly savage that they even stood outside of human nature.51 Discussing Philip V’s population transfers in Macedonia, the historian opposes those who live in poleis (politikoB gndre%) to Thracians and barbarians. The antithesis in Polybius’s thought between those who live as citizens in a Greek polis and the barbarian is explicit in this opposition.52 In the years leading up to the Achaean War with Rome, Polybius considered that the Achaean politeia had utterly degenerated. In the context of his discussion of Diaeus’s brutal treatment of Philinus at Corinth, he describes Achaean collective behavior at this time in the language of barbarism (38.18.7: oEan oDd\ hn Dn barbaroi% eEroi ti% CidAv%). The primacy of constitutions as causal determinants of collective characteristics is perhaps most apparent in the description of the Cretan politeia in book 6. There Polybius states that laws and customs set the tone for men’s private lives as well as for the collective ethical character of the polis. He maintains that when the laws and customs of the politeia are good, we can without hesitation state that the citizens and the state as a whole also will be good. When we see that men are grasping in their private lives and that state actions are unjust, the historian assures us that the laws and customs of that community are corrupt (6.47.1–5). Polybius repeatedly stresses the role of Rome’s constitution in its rise to world power, and he lays particular emphasis on the importance of the Roman system of government at the opening of book 3.53 In a sustained par49. Cf. 6.46.7–8: Lycurgus’s constitution overcame innate stasis. 50. See Mioni 1949: 104; cf. Pédech 1964: 304; Mauersberger 31–32, 229–34, 912–14, 943–44 s.v. aDtAa (1), drxa (1), Dpibola (2), DpAnoia (1–3), respectively. 51. 1.81.9–10; cf. 1.80.10, 84.9–11 (cannibalism); 4.21.6–7 (Cynaethaeans); tAlo% in these passages must indicate progressive degeneration, not innate savagery. See also Plut. Mor. 1124d, with Aalders 1975: 43. On the brutality resulting from base customs and poor education, see also 6.45.1–47.6; 33.16.5–6, with Fritz 1954: 97. 52. 23.10.4–5, with Glockmann 1984: 552. 53. 3.2.6; cf. 1.1.5, 64.2; 3.118.8–9; 6.2.2–3, 18.4–5; 8.2.3–11; 39.8.7–8; Pédech 1964: 303–30 for the role of constitutions in historical causation.

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allelism between Rome and Polybius’s native Achaean Confederation, which will occupy a prominent place in the following chapters, Polybius also points to the particular nature and structure of the politeia in the Achaean Confederation’s evolution.54 In his account of the Roman constitution, Polybius states that it was on the strength of its political institutions that Rome attained mastery of Italy and Sicily, went on to impose its power on Spain and the Celtic peoples, defeated the Carthaginians in the Hannibalic War, and conceived a plan for world conquest. The basic cause of Roman success for Polybius, then, is the nature and structure of its politeia, and it is noteworthy that Polybius as pragmatic historian disallows notions that Tyche or Fortune, by favoring the Romans, was solely responsible for their success, or that the Romans were in some way superhuman beings. Rather, the reasons for Rome’s rise to world dominion lie in the human realm and derive from a well-organized political system.55 In a passage from book 3 (2.6), Polybius states that he will interrupt his historical narrative at the end of the 140th Olympiad (216) in order to discuss this most important of historical determinants for both Roman collective character and Roman collective success; that is, the historian will analyze the Roman constitution. Book 6 comprises the promised analysis.

Logismos vs. Thumos: Book 6 and Roman Group Character Polybius conceives of history’s function as primarily utilitarian and didactic. Its purpose is to provide useful lessons for statesmen, and more generally, for coping with the vicissitudes of life. History for Polybius is a pragmatic endeavor that focuses on the causes of things in the human realm. This pragmatic concern is evident in his discussion of constitutional forms in book 6. Polybius here dismisses purely abstract formulations of political theory that find no counterpart in the world of existing states; he states that to compare such theoretical models with actual politeiai would be tantamount to comparing statues with living men. For this reason he refuses to discuss Plato’s ideal polity (6.47.7–10). With this practical motivation as its basis, book 6 is a digression from the historical narrative proper that examines the greatest cause of all in human affairs: the nature and structure of politeiai. Polybius stresses the crucial influence of state institutional structures upon human character and behavior both in the beginning and at the end of book 6. At the outset, he states in no uncertain terms that the source of all human behavior is the structure of the political and social institutions in which people are raised and in which 54. 2.38.1–11; cf. Ryffel 1949: 184 n. 345; Petzold 1969: 25; Champion 1996: 325–26 nn. 49–53. 55. See Eckstein 1997a; Walbank HC 1.129–30.

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they live (6.2.8–10), and he reiterates the idea toward the end of book 6 as we have it (6.47.1–5). His analysis includes a section on Roman aristocratic funeral practices and their power to instill in Roman aristocratic youth a zeal to excel (53.1–54.4). In Polybius’s thought, therefore, the constitution of the state in this expanded sense is the decisive factor (cf. 2.8–10: megAsth aDtAa) in the development of collective societal characteristics. It is also worth noting Polybius’s emphasis on communal values: when institutional structures degenerate, individual greed will overcome the demands of the collective good, resulting in acts of injustice (6.47.4). This is a theme that we shall encounter repeatedly, and, as we have seen, words denoting individual self-interest and lawlessness are central to Polybius’s language of barbarism. It is necessary to pause to consider the state of the text of book 6 as we have it, as this question bears upon our ability to analyze its narrative trajectory. Book 6 differs from the books that precede it not only insofar as it departs from the historical narrative in order to treat a special topic,56 but also in its transmission. Books 1–5 are preserved intact, whereas book 6 comes down to us through the so-called Excerpta Antiqua, the work of Byzantine epitomators transmitted principally by the manuscript designated F (Vat. Urb. Gr. 102), which Th. Büttner-Wobst dates to the eleventh or twelfth century.57 The Excerpta Antiqua also independently preserve fragments of books 7–18. As the product of epitomators, book 6 is in a fragmentary state, though the fragments are extensive. It is a great misfortune that we have lost Polybius’s account of the early development of the Roman constitution. Sources as diverse as Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Athenaeus, the church chronicler Eusebius, the Justinianic grammarian Stephanus of Byzantium, and the twelfth-century C.E. Byzantine Homerist Eustathius provide glimpses of Polybius’s lost “archaeologia” in book 6, apparently a survey of Rome from the city’s foundation up to the Decemvirate of ca. 450.58 The imperfect textual transmission of book 6, then, is a matter for regret, but we 56. The other “topical” books are book 12 on historiographical method, on which see Sacks 1981: 21–95, and the lost book 34 on geography, on which see Walbank 1948. 57. Moore 1965: 19 argues for an earlier dating on the basis of comparison with the hand of A (Vat. Gr. 124). 58. The “archaeologia” is B-W 11a; see Weil and Nicolet 1977: 28–35. Among the Constantinian excerpts, the codex Turonensis fol. 109v preserves an interesting fragment on L. Tarquinius’s arrival at Rome and his ascension to the throne; see Walbank HC 1.672–73. Cicero demonstrates that Polybius went back at least as far as Numa Pompilius (Resp. 2.14.27); on the terminus, see Ferrary 1984: 88 n. 12. Taeger 1922 passim (and 100–101 for the Decemvirate in Polybius) reconstructs the “archaeologia” from Cicero’s Republic, Diodorus, and Dionysius of Halicarnassus; see also Fritz 1954: 123–54, but this is a hazardous approach, as Cicero used sources other than Polybius: Walbank HC 1.663–73; Nicolet 1974: 210–11 n. 1; Ferrary 1984. See Walbank 1998 for a recent cautious attempt to employ Cicero’s Republic in order to learn something of Polybius’s “archaeologia.”

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can be fairly confident about the ordering of what survives. Comparison of the Excerpta Antiqua for books 1–5 in the codex Urbinas with the complete text for those books in manuscript A indicates that the excerptor has not disturbed the order of Polybius’s original text; indeed, the only dislocation comes in book 5.59 We cannot check the Excerpta Antiqua for book 6 against the complete text in this way, but the evidence from the first five books inspires confidence that we have before us in the substantial fragments from book 6 a good indication of its basic pattern. The state of the text, of course, creates particular problems in interpreting the book as a whole. For example, we cannot be certain about how pervasive the idea of the “mixed constitution” was in Polybius’s account of the early Roman state down to the mid-fifth century; that is, in the so-called archaeologia. Yet we are in a position to study tentatively the narrative structure of book 6.60 The extant text begins with an excerpt from book 6’s introduction (2.1–10).61 Here Polybius explains why he has postponed his discussion of the Roman politeia until this point in his history. He states that one should judge states in times of extreme prosperity or adversity, and his narrative has brought us to the nadir of Roman fortunes in the aftermath of Cannae (cf. 3.75.8; 6.11.2). Following this introduction, the extant portions of book 6 break down into five main sections. First we have a discussion of the forms of states, including the three simple constitutions and their debased forms—kingship versus tyranny, aristocracy versus oligarchy, and democracy versus ochlocracy, cheirokratia, or mob rule.62 In addition, Polybius presents the stabilizing “mixed” constitution, such as Lycurgus devised at Sparta. In this section he also outlines his theory of the anacyclosis, the quasi-biological cycle of the simple constitutional forms, whereby primitive monarchy gives rise to kingship, which in time degenerates into tyranny; tyranny eventually yields to aristocracy, which is ultimately replaced by its perverted form, oligarchy; oligarchy gives way to democracy, which in the end transforms itself into mob rule. The circle is closed by a return to primitive kingship, and the cycle begins anew. We also learn in this section that the Roman state has evolved naturally over a long period of time to arrive at its perfected form (6.10.13–14). An account of the workings of the Roman “mixed constitution” follows (6.11–18). It is noteworthy in this section that Polybius acknowl-

59. Fol. 54r has 5.79.3–86.7 and fol. 59r has 5.75.2–6. Nissen 1871: 253–59 demonstrated the epitomator’s overall fidelity to the order of Polybius’s text; on the codex Urbinas; see B-W 2.lxii–lxvi; Moore 1965: 19–20; Walbank 1972: 131 n. 4. 60. See Weil and Nicolet 1977: 9–12, 57–64. 61. See the summary of contents at Walbank 1972: 131–33. 62. Interestingly, Polybius gives two examples involving the Achaean Confederation of a transition from monarchy directly to democracy, thus violating the order of succession of the anacyclosis: 2.41.5, 44.6, with Walbank 1943: 89 n. 2.

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edges his Roman readership, and he apologizes to this segment of his audience, arguing that he should not be judged too harshly for omission of some constitutional details (11.3–8). In the Roman state, the annually elected consuls represent the monarchical element (12.1–10), the Senate represents the aristocratic element (13.1–9), and the popular assemblies comprise the democratic element (14.1–12). The historian remarks that one could easily mistake the Roman politeia for monarchy when considering the consuls; for an aristocracy when contemplating the Senate; and for democracy when viewing the powers of the popular assemblies (12.9–10, 13.8–9, 14.12). Polybius discusses the powers that each of these separate spheres of the Roman state wields. These components act as counterweights to one another, achieving a stable governmental balance. A detailed analysis of the Roman military comprises a lengthy third section (6.19–42). It is in these chapters more than in any other part of the Histories that we see the awesome, seemingly superhuman, organizational efficiency of the Roman system. Polybius describes the Roman method of recruitment, the structure and composition of the Roman legion, the layout and operation of the Roman military encampment, and the rigid discipline and system of rewards and punishments for the Roman soldiery. He next presents a comparison of the Roman politeia and other states that have been praised in the past (6.43–56). Here Polybius dismisses the Athenian and Theban politeiai, whose successes were short-lived and little more than accidents of fortune. Noteworthy here is Polybius’s harsh judgment of the radical, fifth-century Athenian democracy, in which he emphasizes the fecklessness of Athenian character. Polybius compares Rome’s constitution with the famous Spartan government of Lycurgus; the Roman system turns out to be superior in terms of acquisition of empire (48–50). He follows with a consideration of the constitutional structure of Rome’s great nemesis, Carthage (51–56). Embedded in this discussion are the famous description of a Roman aristocratic funeral, an anecdote on pristine Roman virtue in the story of Horatius Cocles at the bridge, a note on Roman financial probity, and the importance of Roman religion in controlling the commons. At the time of the Hannibalic War, Polybius states, Rome had reached its acme, while Carthage was already in decline (51.5–8; cf. 11.1–2). Significant here is the fact that at Carthage the preponderance of the popular element (c dpmo%) signaled this decline. A short final section once again takes up the theme of the inevitability of state decline (6.57.1–10). In this closing section Polybius states that there are two “natural” forces leading to constitutional degeneration: external factors, which are impossible to calculate and predict, and an internal growth, which the human intellect can discern. This latter results from supremacy and prosperity, and the populace will always be responsible for this degeneration (57.7). The final chapter recounts the Senate’s decision regarding Hannibal’s eight thousand Roman prisoners taken

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in the battle at Cannae. Rather than ransom these, the senators refused Hannibal’s offer, sending a severe message to the surviving Roman troops. In this dire situation the Senate maintained its composure and considered the exigencies Rome faced in the aftermath of Cannae with reasoned deliberations. Such is the narrative skeleton of book 6. For our purposes, the emphasis throughout on reasoned order in the Roman politeia is of the utmost importance, and it is in this regard that Rome partakes of the Hellenic virtues. Polybius frames his discussion in the opening section of the book in such a way that distinctions between Greek and Roman dissolve insofar as his universalizing statements on the origin and growth of political societies are applicable to both Hellenes and non-Hellenes.63 All people, the historian maintains, are displeased whenever they observe in others a failure to show gratitude and reciprocity for benefactions received, and these reflections lead to ideas of duty and obligation, and ultimately to the conception of justice (6.8: dikaiosAnh). This awareness and these conceptions are the result of the rational faculty, which only humankind possesses as a distinction from all other living creatures (6.4–5). The emphasis on rationality could hardly be greater than in this passage, and it is indeed significant that the word logos and its compounds occur some seventy times in book 6.64 In Polybius’s conception of the origins of political communities, it is reasoned self-interest that produces communal values and concern for the collective good (5.10–6.12). In the discussion of the simple constitutional forms of the anacyclosis, rationality is the driving force behind the evolution of primitive monarchy into true kingship. This change comes about whenever reason drives away irrational impulse and brute force (6.12–7.1). Similarly, once kingship has been established for some time, the community ceases to choose its rulers on the basis of physical strength and spirited drives, but rather considers the candidate’s judgment and reasoning powers (7.3). Hereditary succession, however, ultimately corrupts the monarchical house, whose members now become tyrants who follow their appetites (7.6–7). When this state of affairs becomes intolerable, the ruled rise up and overthrow the monarchy, establishing an aristocratic form of government in its stead. At first the new rulers show a paternal concern for the common weal (6.8.3); and, as we have seen, such communal values can come about only through the exercise of reason. Yet once again long-standing hereditary power leads to moral corruption and another revolution, as oligarchy yields to democracy. This form of government functions well as long as there are 63. 6.5.4–9.12; cf. Nissen 1863: 71. 64. The fragmentary book 6 comprises 73 Teubner pages; cf. the complete books 4 (106 Teubner pages and approx. sixty occurrences) and 5 (132 Teubner pages and approx. seventy occurrences).

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those who remember the excesses of the oligarchs; that is, as long as some remain who are able to exercise reason through memory. Yet when a new generation arises and lapses into forgetfulness, the people no longer value the cornerstones of democracy, DshgorAa and parrhsAa, and the worst of all possible governmental forms, the degenerate ochlocracy, or mob rule, arises (9.5–9). At this point reason is banished and any communal sense breaks down. From this state of total societal degeneration a monarch eventually emerges, and the cycle begins again (9.9). Throughout this discussion, balance and rationality are guiding principles of the worthy simple constitutional forms. True kingship is based upon reasoned principles rather than fear and force (4.2–3). True aristocracy is government by a select body of the wisest and most just men (4.3–4). Genuine democracy exhibits the sort of awareness and reflection that are the essential prerequisites for the rise of the political community (6.4.4–5; cf. 6.1–8). Polybius’s description of ochlocracy or cheirokratia in book 6 finds remarkable verbal parallels in the historian’s language of barbarism. Ochlocracy is the rule of violence in which the masses are reduced to the condition of wild beasts (6.9.6–9); the Athenian democracy was impulsive and violent (6.44.9); and every multitude is for Polybius full of lawless desires, unreasoned passion, and violent anger (6.56.11: plpre% Dpiuymipn paranamvn, drgp% dlagoy, uymoP biaAoy). Like barbarians, the masses in Polybius are intemperate, irrational, impulsive, and violent.65 The plpuo%, also like barbarians, lack the critical rational faculty. We have already seen above various passages in which Hellenic (and Roman) rationality emerges triumphant over barbarian irrationality; there is no need to rehearse those instances again. Polybius’s description of the mutinous barbarian mercenaries in the so-called Truceless War provides a conspicuous, if overdetermined, example of the bestial nature of Polybius’s barbarians. Here Polybius compares the situation of the barbarian mercenaries at Carthage to ulcers and tumors in the human body. In the end such people become so completely brutalized in their souls that they can no longer be considered as human beings.66 As we would expect in Polybius’s causation for collective behaviors, this state arises from bad societal customs and deficient paideia (1.81.10). Polybius’s images of the irrational, grasping, and potentially savage popular element in any state, therefore, map well onto his barbarology, both in his general conception and in the specific language he uses to define these two typologies. These close parallels will be highly significant in my reconstruction of the ideolog65. Cf. Scipio Africanus’s observation on the multitude to his rebellious troops in Spain at 11.29.9–12; see Eckstein 1995b: 129–40. Welwei 1966 emphasizes the role of demagogic aristocrats in Polybius’s condemnation of ochlocracy. See appendix A. 66. See 1.81.9; cf. 1.81.5 (dpouhrioPsuai), with Roveri 1964: 122–24; Eckstein 1995b: 126; 125–29 for mercenaries as another of Polybius’s irrational dangers to the ordered society.

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ical context for the Histories, and more generally, for my reading of Polybius’s text as a piece of indirect historiography. Of crucial importance is the fact that Polybius offers the analysis of state formations in this opening section of book 6 as a universal typology. His analysis provides a blueprint for state evolution with predictive powers, as he explicitly states in the conclusion of his treatment of the Roman republican constitution (6.57.3–4). These remarks are a refrain on the point made in the summation of the anacyclosis-theory at the book’s inception. There Polybius states that his life cycle of states has universal application. Anyone with reasoning power, he says, may go wrong in predicting the exact duration of any particular phase of evolution for a given state, but one will not err in regard to the stage of development a state has attained and the form that will inevitably follow (6.9.11–12). There are two points in this introductory section that are worth noting. First, as we see here, the political analysis strikes a universalizing note: the politeiai of Carthage and Rome are discussed in the same terms as Lycurgus’s polity or the Cretan governmental structure. Since Polybius couches his political typology in such terms, any sharp distinctions between Romans and Greeks are apparently erased. Polybius incorporates Rome into Greek political discourse and thereby encourages his readership to regard Rome in terms of Greek politeiai. Moreover, the Roman constitution emerges as the most successfully well-ordered state in actual historical experience; it necessarily follows that the Roman state in operation is an exercise of the quintessence of Hellenic virtue, logismos. Second is a point that is self-evident but nonetheless worth articulating in the context of this discussion. Polybius not only stresses the rational faculty in any politeia that is in good operating condition, but he also assumes it in his reader, who will exercise reason in employing his typology in the prognosis for particular states (cf. 6.9.11, 57.4). In other words, Polybius in a sense affirms his Roman readership’s participation in a Greek intellectual universe by acknowledging his Roman audience’s share in Hellenism’s essence, the human faculty that separates humankind from beasts—rationality. As we have seen in chapter 2, such a concession to the Romans was not a foregone conclusion among Greeks of Polybius’s day. In framing his discussion of the Roman constitution within a universal typology of the formation and evolution of politeiai and in the cooptation of his Roman readership as rational beings capable of benefiting from his political analysis, the historian incorporates Rome into the Hellenic cultural commune.

The Politics of Cultural Indeterminacy and Rome’s Future In Polybius’s typology of state formation politeiai follow a quasi-biological, fixed pattern. The analogy between constitutional development and natural

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processes is most conspicuous in both the description of Lycurgan Sparta, where Polybius compares the evils inherent in the simple constitutional forms to rust in the case of iron and shipworms in the case of timber (6.10.3–6), and the account of Carthage, where constitutions and physical bodies are subject to the same forces (51.4–5). Indeed, appeals to phusis pervade Polybius’s political theory.67 The Roman constitution is no exception in this regard; its development and growth were due to natural causes.68 Since all of these statements are cast in universal terms, we may regard them as part of what I have called a Polybian politics of cultural assimilation; distinctions between Greek and Roman would appear to be irrelevant to this paradigm in which all states follow a fixed pattern. Yet if it is true that in general terms the Romans are assimilated to Greeks in the opening section of book 6 on the general forms of states, there is also a countercurrent here in which Polybius distances Rome from the Greek world. At the very beginning of his analysis, Polybius makes some distinctions between Rome and the Greek states. Rome, he tells us, is difficult to explain on two counts: (1) the simple fact that Greek history is well known to his Greek readership, whereas most Greeks are ignorant of specific features of Roman public and private life in earlier times (6.3.3); (2) the Roman politeia, by implied contrast with Greek states, has a complex structure (6.3.1–4). Polybius also introduces an important distinction in the comparison of the mixed constitutions at Lycurgan Sparta and Rome. We have seen that for Polybius civilized human society is different from other gregarious communities in the exercise of rationality (6.6.4), and it is precisely this rational faculty that lay behind Lycurgus’s construction of the ancestral Spartan politeia (6.10.12). The Romans, in contradistinction, do not here exercise reason, even though they ultimately arrived at roughly the same end as Lycurgus. The Roman politeia arose through hard experience and trial and error. The exercise of rationality, the prerequisite, as I have argued, for Polybius’s Hellenism, does not play the primary role, at least insofar as the evolution of the Roman constitution is concerned.69 I shall argue that there are other ways in which Polybius marks off Rome from the Greek world in book 6 and that these devices leave Rome’s cultural identity indeterminate. In this connection, we find a rather interesting parallelism between the narrator and his subject matter. There are remarkable

67. Phusis in state development in book 6: 6.4.6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13; 5.1, 4, 7, 8, 10; 6.2; 7.1; 9.10, 13; 10.2, 3, 4, 7, 12; 46.5, 9; 48.4; 51.4; 54.5; 57.1, 2, 3; cf. Ryffel 1949: 203–28; Eisen 1966: 24–97, esp. 42–60, 68–70, 93–96; Weil and Nicolet 1977: 50–54; Hahm 1995: 11–16. 68. 6.4.13: katb fAsin (“according to nature”); cf. 6.9.13–14. But at 6.54.5 Roman discipline overrides the familial ties of phusis; cf. Brink and Walbank 1954: 119–21. 69. Cf. 5.90.8: logismos as a Hellenic preserve. On the different nature of origins, see Fritz 1954: 150–54, 306–7; Eisen 1966: 63–66, 83–85; Petzold 1977: 278–79.

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verbal parallels between Polybius’s note on the distinction between the evolution of Lycurgan Sparta and that of republican Rome70 and his comment as subjective historian near the end of the book that he has illustrated the perfection and strength of the Roman constitution not by words alone but also through experience.71 When this passage is read in conjunction with the reflections on the origins of Sparta and Rome, the narrator himself appears to take on an ambiguous or indeterminate cultural status between Greece and Rome: in his exposition Polybius has employed both Hellenic logos and Roman pragma. The lengthy section on the Roman military system (6.19–42), the reflections on the Roman aristocratic funeral (53.1–54.4), and Polybius’s statements on Roman religion and financial probity (56.1–15), which are embedded in the comparison of Rome and Carthage, further serve to distance Rome from the Greek world. In these cases, however, the differences between Rome and Greece work to the detriment of the latter. We therefore can hardly say that these chapters are further manifestations of a politics of cultural alienation as I have discussed it; that is, these passages do not subtly suggest that the Romans occupy the negative pole of the Hellenic-barbarian divide. Indeed, in these sections, and particularly in the account of the Roman military, the Romans would appear to exercise a hyper-logismos. Here distinctions between Roman and Greek are matters of degree, not of kind. In terms of the cultural language of Hellenism, it may be useful to think of Polybius’s representation of Romans as exemplifying a third type, a tertium genus. It remains true, however, that by his descriptions of features of the Roman polity that do not map well onto any actual historical experience of his Greek readership, Polybius sets Rome apart from the Hellenic universe. Polybius’s account of Roman military recruitment procedures reveals the detailed symmetry, balance, and proportion of the Roman system. The same qualities emerge even more forcefully in the description of the layout and operation of the Roman military camp (6.27.1–41.12). Here Polybius provides an invaluable, detailed analysis for the modern historian of the Roman Republic.72 Polybius is aware that the technical nature of this section may 70. 6.10.14: oD mbn dib lagoy, dib dB pollpn dganvn kaB pragmatvn. Polybius does admit an element of rational choice in the evolution of the Roman state in this passage, stating that the Romans always chose the best (Dpignasev% aCroAmenoi tb bAltion) in light of their experiences, but the contrast between Lycurgan Sparta and the Roman Republic remains the salient point here. There are striking correspondences between this passage and Cato the Elder’s remarks at Cic. Resp. 2.2.1–12; see Nicolet 1974: 248–49; Cornell 1978: 135 and n. 16; see also Plb. 6.11.1–2, with Fritz 1954: 468–69 (n. 5). 71. 6.58.1: mb tu lagi manon dllb kaB toP% pragmasin; cf. 5.33.6–7. 72. See Marsden 1974 on Polybius as military historian, esp. 292–94 on book 6 as an account of the Roman politeia as a military organization; cf. Mioni 1949: 29–31; Toynbee 1965: 1.505–18. There are anachronisms whereby Polybius has retrojected the contemporary Roman military

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overcome his readership’s stamina, and attempts to stimulate the reader with an exhortation that echoes the introduction to the Histories (26.12; cf. 1.1.5–6). For the purposes of this discussion, we need only select from this wealth of detailed information passages that illustrate what I have called, for convenience, the hyper-logismos of the Romans. Everything emanates from the consul’s tent, the praetorium, forming a square of perfect Hippodamian geometrical symmetry.73 There is the same sort of organization and economy in the breaking up of the encampment (40.1–14). Roman attention to the minutest details is evident in Polybius’s description of the method for passing the watchword and of the organization and inspection of night watches (34.7–37.1). The military tribunes instruct groups of four men from the cavalry squadrons for the nightly rounds, and they conduct four inspections of appointed watch posts. If all is in order, they collect a wooden tablet, or tessera, from each station and continue their rounds; if something is amiss, such as an abandoned post or soldiers sleeping, that fact is noted and witnessed. Those guilty of infractions are subjected to a horrifying death by cudgeling. The bastinado is inflicted on thieves, perjurers, sexual purveyors, and three-time offenders for any breach of discipline (37.9–13). In cases of mass dereliction of duty, selective cudgeling by decimatio follows; the remaining offenders are put on rations of barley and forced to remain outside the protection of the encampment. These practices, Polybius tells us, are calculated to inspire terror and to correct error (38.1–4). In contrast, specific awards of increasing scale await those soldiers who are conspicuous for their courage and discipline (39.1–11). The historian remarks that in light of this system of rewards and punishments, it is small wonder that Roman wars end successfully and magnificently (39.11: Dpityxp kaB lampra). Polybius certainly has his Greek readership in mind in this account of the Roman military system; for example, he uses Greek weights and measures in his account of the pay and rations of the Roman foot soldier.74 I argue that, from a Greek perspective, we have in the description of the Roman army a case of an exaggerated Roman display of “Hellenic” rationality, resulting in a bewildering communal solidarity and military efficiency. In this regard Polybius’s description of the Roman military system makes Rome something system back to the time of Cannae, such as the statement that ten stipendia were required before eligibility for magistracies: 6.19.4–5, with Rich 1976: 135–36 and n. 32 for the scholarly consensus (Rich himself is noncommittal); cf. 6.12.10 for a defense of Polybius’s static representation, but Polybius does distinguish between past and present Roman military practices: e.g., 6.20.9, 25.3–11. 73. 6.31.10: tetragvnon Dsapleyron (“equal-sided tetragon”). At 6.31.10–11 Polybius states that the arrangement gives the appearance of a town (diauesi% palev%; cf. 6.41.10–12); yet also note the flexibility of the Roman encampment at 6.32.3–8; see the diagram at Walbank HC 1.710. 74. 6.39.12–15; cf. 2.15.1–6; Nissen 1863: 108.

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nearly unrecognizable to the Greek reader. At the close of this account, Polybius makes the distinction between Greek and Roman explicit (6.42.1–5). The digression on Roman aristocratic funeral practices (6.53.1–54.4) also serves to mark off Roman societal practice from Greek experience.75 The historian emphasizes the impact these stunning ceremonials have on the living in fostering communal solidarity; they also kindle in Roman youth a desire to excel in virtuous deeds (53.9–54.4). These observations lead to reflections on heroic acts in Roman history inspired by such social institutions, and, in particular, to the story that so stirred Lord Macaulay: Horatius Cocles’ single-handed combat in defense of his country at the Tiber bridge (54.4–55.4). Polybius presents the Roman funeral as if it were a unique and alien social practice in the eyes of his Greek readership, one that warranted this explanatory digression. There are possible historical objections to the divorce of this Roman social institution from the Greek world. In fact, at least two aspects of the Roman aristocratic funeral appear to have had roots in Greece. First, there is the “verism” or realism of the Roman ancestor mask, which is likely to have derived from Hellenistic models. Polybius mentions the realism (53.5–6), but there is no hint of the derivation.76 We cannot press this point, as Polybius after all was not an art historian, but we might make more of the omission of another detail. We know that actors in Polybius’s time were apparently an integral part of the Roman aristocratic funeral; for example, an actor represented the deceased in the funeral procession of Aemilius Paullus.77 Roman nobles in this period regarded lowly actors and other performers as among the more distasteful and contemptible of Greek imports.78 Despite this evidence, Polybius’s Roman aristocratic funeral remains unsullied by Hellenic contamination. This is admittedly not compelling evidence. These points can do no more than suggest an interpretative framework for Polybius’s depiction of the Roman funeral, but I think that it is safe to say that

75. On this famous passage, see Walbank HC 1.737–40; Pédech 1964: 307; Eckstein 1995b: 149; cf. Flower 1996: 91–127 on the Roman pompa funebris. 76. See Walbank HC 1.738 ad 6.53.4; Flower 1996: 32–59 for a historical reconstruction of the imagines; on Hellenistic verism, see Pollitt 1986: 141–47. In chapter 2 I have suggested that “verism” may well have been, at least in part, a Roman politico-cultural reaction against Hellenistic idealizing royal portraiture. The fact that there was a Hellenistic Greek veristic tradition does not invalidate that claim. 77. Diod. 31.25.2; cf. Fabius Pictor ap. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 7.72.12 (satyrs part of public spectacle of the original ludi Romani); Plb. 6.53.6–10; Suet. Iul. 84 (scaenici artifices at Caesar’s funeral); App. BC 2.146 (Caesar impersonated); Suet. Vesp. 19 (the mime actor Favor wore the emperor’s mask and impersonated him in the funeral procession). 78. See Cato’s statement on contemporary Roman youth ap. Plb. 31.25.4: polloB d\ eD% dkroamata (“many [went in for] musical entertainments”); Eckstein 1995b: 264–65.

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his representation holds up a Roman social institution as something admirable, but also alien, to the Greek world. The sharp divide between Roman and Greek in matters of religious scruples and financial transactions is unequivocal (6.56.1–15; cf. 3.112.9). In this chapter Polybius brackets his remarks on Roman religion with observations on Roman honesty and scrupulousness in money matters. He begins by comparing Rome favorably with Carthage in this sphere: Romans consider nothing more disgraceful than accepting bribes and illicit gain, whereas among the Carthaginians the profit motive prevails over all other considerations (6.56.1–5). It is noteworthy that in this description of Rome’s virtuous abstention from vice, we find word usage that recalls both Polybius’s image of ochlocracy and his characterization of the barbarian (dvrodokePsuai, pleonektePn).79 The superiority of Roman religious practices follows. As in the case of the Roman aristocratic funeral, Polybius admires the beneficial effect that public spectacle has on the Roman populace, but here the focus is on the masses. Religion at Rome acts as a curb on the violent impulses and desires inherent in any multitude (56.9–12). Here Roman practice is held up for singular praise, in sharp distinction from the Greeks, who have banished superstition (deisidaimonAa), a most useful form of social control.80 The final sections of the chapter return to financial matters, and again the contrast between Greek and Roman is pronounced: Romans can be entrusted with large sums of money, whereas Greeks cannot keep good faith even when accompanied by scribes and witnesses.81 The Roman military system, the Roman aristocratic funeral, Roman religious practices, and Roman financial probity would all appear to be indications of a superior politeia based upon the exercise of reason. As we have already remarked, since this is the very hallmark of Polybius’s ideal Hellenism, there can be no sense in these passages in which the Romans emerge as barbaroi. With regard to Polybius’s Greek audience, these passages constitute a lesson in statecraft and demonstrate that it was by a logical process, and not by some whim of Tyche, that Rome came to rule the world.82 Yet it is significant that in these chapters of highest praise, the Romans nonetheless 79. See 6.9.7 on ochlocracy (dvrodakoy% kaB dvrofagoy%); on barbarian pleonejAa, see, for example, 1.81.11 (Carthaginian mercenaries); 2.19.3 (Gauls); 3.8.1 (Carthaginians); 2.43.9, 45.1, 46.3, 49.3; 4.3.1, 3.5, 6.12 (the semibarbarous Aetolians). PleonejAa characterizes corrupted constitutions at 6.47.4 and ochlocracy at 6.57.7; see appendix A. 80. 6.56.12–13; see also 16.12.9–10, with Roveri 1964: 102–3, 151–52; Mohm 1977: 108–16 and assembled references at 116 n. 287; van Hooff 1977; Erskine 2000: 176–81; cf. the remarks of the pontifex maximus Q. Mucius Scaevola (cos. 95) ap. August. CD 4.27. In 192 the Aetolian Archidamus mocked Flamininus for his scrupulous religiosity in taking auspices: Liv. 35.48.13. 81. 6.56.13–15; see also 18.34.7. 82. On this important point, see Eckstein 1997a.

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appear by the very degree of their quasi-Hellenic virtues as something alien to the Greek reader. Perhaps Greeks could use Polybius’s account of the Roman state as a blueprint for success and a model for emulation, but in the present condition of the world, the fact remains that the Romans have many admirable, but also bewilderingly different, qualities. This fact tempers the general proposition at the outset of book 6, whereby Polybius’s universalizing statements on the forms of states appear to incorporate Rome into the Hellenic cultural commune through a politics of cultural assimilation. It is clear that Polybius writes book 6 for both a Roman and a Greek audience, as he apologizes for omissions of detail that a Roman reader would find familiar (6.11.3–8), and he describes the Roman foot soldier’s rations in Attic weights and measures (39.12–15). Passages such as these invite an examination of reader response, and such an approach provides a key to apparent inconsistencies in Polybius’s political analysis in this book—the relationship between the rise and fall of states of the anacyclosis theory and the stabilizing force of the mixed constitution, and, most important, Rome’s ambiguous position in this analysis. These problems have long vexed modern scholars. Much attention has been given to source criticism, and indeed it is clear that both of these strands of Polybius’s political theory have distant antecedents. Plato, for example, discusses the never-ending process of political change in several contexts, and he also knows of the “mixed” constitution, the earliest reference to which goes back as far as Thucydides.83 Scholars have posited various sources for the origin of the mikte: Pythagoras, Archytas, Theramenes, Hippodamus of Miletus, and even Solon.84 They have frequently seen the Peripatetic Dicaearchus’s work Tripolitikos as seminal for the theory of the “mixed” constitution, but the evidence for this is disappointing.85 And contemporaneous and near-contemporaneous parallels to the political ideas in book 6 are not far to seek. We find an echo of the periodic destructions of civilization with which Polybius introduces his anacyclosis theory (5.4–9) in the shadowy figure of Ocellus Lucanus, probably Polybius’s near contemporary, who states that Greece has been barbarous in its past and will be bar83. E.g., on constant political change, Pl. Resp. 544c–d; Lg. 676b–c, 782a; Ep. 8.353d–e; generally Resp. 546a2: dll\ DpeB genomAni pantB fuora Dstin (“since decay is inherent in all things”); see assembled references on decay and instability in human affairs at Ryffel 1949: 92 n. 231; cf. Mioni 1949: 66–71; on the “mixed” constitution, Pl. Mx. 238c–d, with Aalders 1968: 32; Lg. 712d–e (mixed character of Spartan constitution), 756e; Arist. Pol. 1265b26–66a30 on Plato’s Laws; cf. Graeber 1968: 93–101 on the mikte in Plato and Aristotle; Thuc. 8.97.2, with Ryffel 1949: 241–42. 84. Roveri 1964: 172–75; Aalders 1968: 7–30, 52–53 on Solon; Fritz 1954 passim on the mikte in Polybius and its antecedents; Nippel 1980: 30–158; cf. now Lintott 1999: 214–19. 85. Dicaearchus’s Tripolitikos: frags. 1, 67–72 W, with Aalders 1968: 73 n. 5; Cic. Resp. 1.29.45; 1.45.69 (Scipio on the mixed constitution, perhaps reproducing Dicaearchus); see Cole 1964: 447 n. 19; Aalders 1968: 83–84; 1975: 108; cf. Gabba 1991: 101 on Dicaearchus’s “Golden Age.”

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barous again, because of natural disasters.86 According to Diogenes Laertius (7.131), the Stoics Panaetius and Posidonius maintained that the best governmental form was a composite of democratic, monarchic, and aristocratic elements. In discussing Carthage, the elder Cato revealed his familiarity with the idea of the “mixed” constitution in referring to Carthage’s popular, aristocratic, and monarchic components.87 That these ideas were in the air should not deflect attention from the ways in which Polybius deploys them.88 Polybius’s universalizing statements on the rise and fall of states employ the language of biological necessity (6.3.5–9.14, 57.1–9); Rome too would appear to be unable to escape the ineluctable force of the anacyclosis (9.12–14, 51.4, 57.1–10). On the other hand, the stabilizing powers of the Roman “mixed” constitution strike a governmental balance that staves off the inevitable decline and decay of states (18.5–8). Despite the Procrustean efforts of some modern scholars, it must be admitted that a clear reconciliation of these contrasting images of Rome’s future is not forthcoming in Polybius’s text. I suggest that this ambiguity is actually the key to the meaning of the political analysis in book 6 and that it lies in Polybius’s outward direction, that is, in the historian’s concern with his heterogeneous Greek and Roman audiences. This interpretation of the text’s ambiguity may help explain the impact this political theory as we have it was likely to have had on its audiences, and the political ramifications that may have resulted for its author. From a Roman perspective, Polybius’s account of the Roman politeia, framing Rome within Greek political theory and terminology, congratulates the Romans (or at least those among them who attended to and admired Greek political ideas) on achieving a nearly perfect constitutional arrangement, but it also serves up admonitory messages on the symptoms of institutional atrophy and the quarter from which one can expect that degeneration. From a Greek standpoint, this analysis explains Rome’s success and serves as a didactic model for emulation, but it also keeps Rome at a distance from the Hellenic universe and holds out a promise to 86. Ocellus Lucanus 42 H, with Ryffel 1949: 203–8, 219 n. 380; further Cole 1964: 446 n. 15 (texts on genesis, acme, and decay of states); see also Scipio Aemilianus’s reflections at Plb. 38.21.1–3; 38.22.1–3 (Astin 1967: 251–52 [nos. 9a–c], 282–87); Walbank HC 3.720–21 ad 38.20.1–11, 722–24 ad 38.21.1–3. 87. Serv. ad Aen. 4.682: Cato enim ait de tribus istis partibus ordinatam fuisse Carthaginem, with Nicolet 1974: 250; Nippel 1980: 143 n. 3. Polybius’s lost “archaeology” probably subscribed to the idea that the Roman political system was the product of a historical process of trial and error culminating in the Valerio-Horatian laws of 449; there is evidence that the notion was also in Cato’s Origines; see Cornell 1978: 135–36; Walbank 1943: 85 n. 3 for Cato’s influence on book 6. For an overview of the “mixed constitution” theory at Rome and its antecedents, see Lintott 1997. 88. Cf. Hahm (1995), who reads Polybius’s political theory as an exercise in social psychology that intends to shape the political destiny of its contemporary world; Pédech 1964: 317–30 on Polybius’s independence from the possible sources of book 6.

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those Greek readers who resented Roman domination that Rome, subject to the inescapable forces of decline and degeneration, one day too will fall (explicit at 6.9.12–13).

Polybius’s barbarology is in keeping with the commonplace ancient Greek bipolarity of Hellene-barbarian. Barbaroi for Polybius are the negation of the ordered, balanced, and harmonious political community. They represent the most destructive forces of disorder and irrationality, which pose a constant threat to the civilized oikoumene. The educated, aristocratic elite must work tirelessly to preserve this civilized world under siege, and they are able to do so only through the exercise of the quintessential Hellenic virtue, logismos. While the semantics of Polybius’s Hellenic-barbarian dichotomy may be commonplace, the referents for the dichotomy are not. They are set up on the basis of communal organizations, not ethnicities. The reality of Roman power in Polybius’s day had posed new challenges to the ethnocentric ancient Greek division of the world into Hellene and barbarian; and, in working out the Romans’ position in his Hellenic-barbarian continuum, Polybius responded creatively and ingeniously, drawing upon a rich intellectual tradition concerning the formation of collective societal characteristics. Greek thinkers posited three basic explanations for the observable differences among peoples: (1) distinctive characteristics are inherent in particular peoples (phusis); (2) climatic and geographical factors determine group characteristics; (3) state organizations encompassing political, social, religious, legal, and aesthetic institutions, and especially the civilizing forces of Hellenic paideia, mold the characters of collectivities. All three of these causal explanations appear in Polybius’s Histories. The historian, however, lays by far the greatest emphasis on political and social institutions, the nature and structure of politeiai, in his causality for ethnic-cultural group characteristics. If it is true that Polybius’s Hellenism is the exercise of rationality, or logismos, then it is also the case that Hellenism is not the exclusive preserve of ethnic Greeks. It is to be found wherever the rationally organized polity exists. Thus Hellenism and logismos form a virtual tautology for the historian. In Polybius’s conception of the origins and life cycles of states, any given people would at least theoretically have the capability of moving in either direction between the poles of Hellenism and barbarism as a function of the health of its institutional structures. Polybius’s authorial decision to stress state organizations as the most important determinants for collective societal characteristics allowed for the greatest degree of flexibility, and ambiguity, in regard to the question of Rome’s relation to Hellenism. Book 6 provides an analysis of the Roman politeia and an explanation for Rome’s imperial success. Throughout book 6 the Roman polity appears to

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be based on the principle of rational planning, the hallmark of Polybius’s Hellenic virtue. Yet there also is clearly a subtext to book 6 that marks off the Romans from the Greek world. For example, the Roman state had different origins than the model Greek “mixed” constitution, or that of Lycurgan Sparta; Polybius points out diametrically opposed Greek and Roman approaches in the military sphere; and the pageantry of the Roman aristocratic funeral finds no precise analogue in the Greek historical experience. I have argued that an approach to the political analysis in book 6 focusing on reader response and Polybius’s Greek and Roman readerships, among whom opinions on Rome’s relation to Hellenism were very divided, permits a reading of his text that helps to resolve the difficulties of apparent inconsistencies and contradictions. By a politics of cultural assimilation, Polybius frames his discussion of Rome within a Greek political discourse that represents Rome as a model Greek politeia. This aspect of his narrative clearly would have been congenial to philhellenic Romans. Romans are incorporated as part of the Hellenic cultural commune, and Polybius presents them with didactic and admonitory lessons for preserving their polity in its optimal condition. But Polybius also suggests the very real differences between Greeks and Romans, a position more in line with the ideas of both Greek and Roman readers who would have balked at the notion of Rome as a Greek polis. Moreover, we may say that in his prognosis of Rome’s inevitable demise, Polybius makes a concession to virulent anti-Roman sentiment in the Greek world, which I canvassed in chapter 2. And, as we shall see, it is highly significant that the form the Roman politeia will assume at its impending nadir will be ochlocracy, which Polybius describes in the same terms as his barbarians. The next two chapters analyze the character of the Roman state in Polybius’s historical narrative. Chapter 4 examines the Romans in books 1–5, leading up to the disaster at Cannae, the acme of Rome’s historical development, according to the historian. Chapter 5 treats the fragmentary books following book 6, the period in which Polybius considered Rome to have passed its zenith. In both chapters I consider a roughly parallel development in Polybius’s historical representation of the Achaean Confederation.

Chapter 4

Akme Politeion Roman and Achaean Virtues When the goodman mends his armour, And trims his helmet’s plume; When the goodwife’s shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. lord macaulay, Lays of Ancient Rome

In terms of indirect historiography, Polybius’s historical narrative provides the best means for studying his Hellenic-barbarian continuum vis-à-vis Rome. I argue that in recounting historical events, Polybius indirectly promotes a consistent image of Rome and Achaea informed by the organizing principles of his Hellenic-barbarian construct. As we have seen, book 6 demonstrates that in Polybius’s conception formal institutional structures and ingrained societal practices are the most important determinants of collective societal characteristics. But according to the quasi-biological process of the anacyclosis of the simple constitutional forms, communal priorities and commitment to collective well-being do not long abide in any given community, as Polybius makes clear in his account of the evolution of aristocracy into oligarchy (6.8.3–5). Scholars have long noted Polybius’s essentially pessimistic outlook on humankind, and there is reason to believe that in his conception barbarism is a condition to which it is all too easy for human beings to return. Only the heroic struggle of those possessing reason to impose balance and order upon society can stave off the nearly inexorable degeneration of human beings into bestiality.1 Only where rationality, logismos, has been imposed through good laws and customs can communal values prevail over individualistic drives and appetites.

1. Cf. 18.15.14–17, with Mioni 1949: 96; Eckstein 1995b: 238.

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This chapter and the next study Polybius’s account of the Roman and Achaean politeiai in action in the historical narrative. I shall argue that a parallel retrograde development in the case of Rome and the Achaean Confederation runs throughout the Histories and is of crucial importance for the didactic purposes and rhetorical strategies of this text. There is a steady deterioration in both Roman and Achaean virtues and a steady diminution in communal spirit among both peoples as the work progresses. Tracking the collective behaviors of Rome and Achaea through the work as we have it, the reader finds that both states exhibit the decay and degeneration we should expect from a reading of the political theory in book 6. Parallels between the states break down distinctions between Romans and Achaeans based on the traditional Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity, as both peoples have undergone decline through degeneration of their formal institutional structures, Polybius’ prime causal factor for group characteristics. In our attempt to formulate a typology for the functions of ancient Hellenism we have seen that flexibility and adaptability are key components of ancient Greek cultural politics, and, in this light, we may say that in the face of Roman power Polybius presses this politico-cultural system to its logical conclusion. In other words, as suggested in chapter 3, Polybius maintains that the structure and organization of politeiai are subject to universal forces and that the nature of politeiai determine Hellenic and barbarian collective characters. In terms of the cultural politics of Hellenism sketched out in chapter 2, the parallel trajectories of Roman and Achaean history are an exercise in the politics of cultural assimilation. Parallelism between Rome and Achaea is evident in books 1–5, which treat the historical periods during which, in Polybius’s eyes, both polities were at their best. Books 1–3 narrate Roman history down to the disaster at Cannae; books 4–5 concern Greek affairs in the 140th Olympiad (220–216), in which the Achaean Confederation plays a prominent role in Polybius’s account. Books 1–2 comprise a historical preface for Polybius’s Greek readership who might not be familiar with the earlier histories of the western powers of Rome and Carthage, and embedded in book 2 is an account of the early history of the Achaean Confederation, the so-called Achaean prokataskeue.2 The architecture of books 1–5, then, enforces a parallel reading of Roman and Achaean history. Moreover, these books form a unit in the structure of the work as a whole. They take the historical narrative down to the end of the 140th Olympiad, the period in which the history of the oikoumene, or known inhabited world, became an organic, interconnected whole in Polybius’s conception. In the 140th Olympiad, events were still moving toward this unity, and Polybius treats them individually; thereafter he

2. See Petzold 1969: 91–100 on the Achaean prokataskeue in Polybius’ universal history.

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takes up the historical narrative in an order more or less fixed by region, moving from west to east: Italy (including Sicily, Spain, and Africa), Greece and Macedonia, Asia, and Egypt.3 He provides a rather lengthy reminder of the structural change that historical developments in the 140th Olympiad have imposed on the Histories in his account of the Social War in Greece (4.28.1–6). Polybius signals the qualitative change in historical events in Agelaus’s speech at the end of book 5 and punctuates it by interrupting the historical narrative with the theoretical political analysis of book 6.4 Finally, the accident of survival encourages treating books 1–5 as a unit, for only these books survive completely intact, allowing for an analysis of Polybius’s continuous historical narrative. In books 1–3 Polybius stresses the Roman experience of continual warfare against formidable opponents as a key factor in the formation of Roman character. His battle narratives emphasize the courage, daring, and ferocity of both Rome and its opponents. The First Romano-Carthaginian War, recounted in book 1, presents in Rome and Carthage two equally matched combatants near the zenith of their political and military developments. Yet in this war Roman institutional superiority over Carthage takes the form of Roman autarky opposed to Carthaginian dependence: Roman citizen-soldiers fought this war, whereas the Carthaginians relied upon mercenaries.5 In subsequent wars against Illyrians and Gauls, narrated in book 2, Roman enemies exhibit impulsive behavior, greed, and treachery—qualities we have found to be constituent elements of Polybius’s barbarians. Romans, on the other hand, as a result of their excellent political system, provide a reverse mirror of their opponents, displaying what I have called Hellenic virtues. They counter their enemies with collective planning, temperance, and commitment to duty. In the account of the Hannibalic War down to the battle at Cannae, Polybius presents the picture of a monolithic Carthaginian state solidly behind Hannibal. He thereby encourages the reader to interpret Hannibal’s actions in the events surrounding the outbreak of the war as typically Carthaginian. Polybius represents this war as Rome’s severest test; the account of the battle at Cannae reveals its ferocity. Yet while Hannibal, in Polybius’s eyes one of the truly great historical figures, brought Rome to the brink of annihilation, his actions in the preliminaries to the war demonstrate emotional, impulsive behavior, which in book 2 is characteristic of Illyrians and Gauls. Hannibal’s 3. See 3.1.4–7; 5.31.4–5, with Walbank HC 1.562 ad 5.31.6; 1972: 103–5. 4. On the symploke, or interconnection, of world events at the end of the 140th Olympiad, see 5.104.1–11 (cf. 5.30.8–31.8), with Walbank 1985: 313–24; Champion 1997a: 112–17; and now Clarke 1999: 114–28 on Polybian universalism. 5. 1.17.4–5, 19.2–4, 43.4, 48.3, 67.7–8 for Ligurians, Gauls, Iberians, Numidians, Greeks, and Balearic islanders serving in the Carthaginian armies.

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passionate hatred of Rome and the theme of the “wrath of the Barcids” figure prominently in Polybius’s list of causes of war. Emotion and impulse characterize the Carthaginian state at the time of the Hannibalic War, as by then the democratic element at Carthage had become predominant. I argue that Hannibal’s behavior mirrors Polybius’s picture of Carthage at this historical juncture, and that we may read his actions as illustrations of Carthaginian character on an individual level. The narrative pattern of Achaean history in books 2, 4, and 5 parallels that of Rome in books 1–3. We find parallels not only between Rome and the Achaean Confederation, but also between Rome’s opponents and one of Achaea’s traditional enemies, the Aetolian Confederation. The historical characters Aratus of Sicyon and the Aetolian leader Dorimachus illustrate the collective characteristics of Achaeans and Aetolians, respectively, in much the same way as I argue that Hannibal illustrates Carthaginian collective character in the narrative of the preliminaries to the Hannibalic War. Placing Polybius’s account of Achaeans and Aetolians in these books within the contexts of the historical records of the Achaean and Aetolian confederations serves to highlight the simplified and schematic nature of his representations of these collectivities. Achaea emerges in this narrative as an exemplar of Hellenic virtue, parallel to the example set by Rome. Aetolia exhibits many of the barbarous, negative characteristics of Rome’s enemies. The individuals Hannibal, Aratus, and Dorimachus figure prominently in the following analysis. I maintain that these figures are representative of Polybius’s conception of the typical collective behaviors of their ethnic-cultural groups. This interpretation requires further argumentation before proceeding to an analysis of positive (Roman, Achaean) and negative (Romanadversarial, Aetolian) collective group characters in the historical narrative of books 1–5.

Individuals and Group Character in the Histories In the Roman sections of books 1–3, as I shall argue, the Illyrians Agron, Teuta, and Demetrius of Pharos exemplify Illyrian group character. Concerning the Romans themselves, scholars have remarked on the relative inconsequence of the individual in books 1–3, especially in the account of the First Romano-Carthaginian War, attributing this to Polybius’s “annalistic” sources.6 In the case of Hannibal, the importance of the individual in history

6. Pédech 1964: 177; cf. the elder Cato’s alleged practice of omitting Roman commanders’ names in his Origines: frag. 88 P (Plin. NH 8.11); Nepos, Cato 3.4; I use the term “annalistic” according to modern convention, noting Cornell 1996: 104 n. 24: “The term ‘annalists’ . . . has no ancient authority and should be avoided as generally misleading.”

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would appear to be paramount.7 Indeed, in his aristeia of Hannibal, Polybius notes that in states where strong individuals are in power, changes in the dispositions of these individuals may result in changes in the natures of their respective politeiai (9.23.8–9). The historian, therefore, is intensely interested in individual psychology and the wellsprings of his historical agents’ actions. Yet I maintain that Hannibal’s behavior in the preliminaries to the war with Rome so closely parallels the picture in book 6 of the Carthaginian state at the time of the Hannibalic War as to justify reading his alleged deficiencies as illustrations of Polybius’s general representation of Carthaginian group character. The individual historical agent plays a more prominent role in the sketch of early Achaean history, the so-called Achaean prokataskeue, in book 2 (37–71) and in books 4–5. Polybius’s synchronism at the opening of book 4 emphasizes individuals as causative forces in the unfolding of his historical narrative: Philip V, Achaeus, Antiochus III, Ariarathes IV of Cappadocia, Ptolemy IV Philopator, Lycurgus at Sparta, and Hannibal himself were relatively new arrivals on the stage of history, and historical events would take a new course under their influence (4.2.10–11). Individuals are prime forces in the historical evolution of Polybius’s Achaean Confederation. Aratus, Philopoemen, and Lycortas, according to the historian, were catalysts in the realization of the Achaean political principle (2.40.2–3; cf. 39.11). Achaea’s fortunes suffered through the ineptitudes of the strategoi Aratus and Eperatus (4.60; 5.30.6–7; cf. 5.91.4–5). At Sparta Cleomenes’ rise to power threatened to subject the entire Peloponnesus to tyranny.8 One man, Thearces, sullied the reputation of Cleitor (2.55.9). The rash and impulsive Aetolian Dorimachus perpetrated such enormities at Messene that he brought on the Social War of 220–217.9 Outside of the Peloponnesus Ptolemy Philopator’s negligence placed Egypt in danger (5.34.1–11). Polybius was fascinated with the moral degeneration of Philip V, who looms large in the narrative of books 4–5.10 Although the individual historical agent takes a prominent role in Polybius’s historical causation in Greek affairs in these books, I shall argue that in the cases of Hannibal, the Illyrians Agron, Teuta, and Demetrius of Pharos, and the Aetolian Dorimachus, Polybius may employ the individual in order to underscore the characteristics of the ethnic-cultural group, or, as in the case of Aratus of Sicyon, he may single out individual idiosyncrasies in 7. Cf. 9.22.1, 6; Pédech 1964: 208. 8. 2.49.4–5, 52.5–6: Cleomenes’ goal was the arche of the entire Peloponnesus, and eventually of all Hellas; cf. 2.69.1–2: the battle at Sellasia was fought for Hellenic freedom. 9. Cf. 32.4.1–2: the death of another Aetolian, Lyciscus, demonstrated the sort of influence one man can have over an entire people. 10. See Walbank 1970, esp. 302–4; cf. Champion 1997a: 122–26.

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order to mitigate historical evidence running contrary to his collective representations. For the most part, however, the individual is the product of the society in which he has grown up and a mirror of the social practices of a communally shared culture (see esp. 6.47.3–5).

Roman Collective Character in Books 1–3 THE FIRST ROMANO-CARTHAGINIAN WAR (264–241)

Polybius represents the First Romano-Carthaginian War as the greatest conflict up to that time. Rome and Carthage were equally matched and at the height of their power,11 and Rome’s treatment of the Campanian mercenaries who had seized Rhegium is an indication of the severity of the war to follow between the two western superpowers.12 Continual warfare from the time of the fourth-century Gallic sack prepared Rome for the trial of strength against Carthage. Polybius telescopes this martial training within one chapter (1.6). He states that the Romans survived unceasing military tests through the fighting qualities they had gained in battle and through the assistance of Fortune, or Tyche.13 Their courage figures prominently in the subjugation of the Latin peoples (6.4: dndreAa); and here Polybius compresses the subsequent Roman conflicts against Etruscans, Celts, and Samnites into a single sentence. The Samnite and Gallic wars are called agones that made the Romans into true champions of war and prepared them for the contest against Pyrrhus.14 The Romans sustained Pyrrhus’s challenge bravely and succeeded in throwing him out of Italy (6.7–8). The chapter closes with the Romans in control of all Italy (with the exception of the Cisalpine Gauls) and preparing the siege of Rhegium.15 Chapter 6 of book 1 provides an overview of the causal nexus that led to the first crossing of the Romans under arms overseas (1.5.1). This act marks the beginning (drxa) of the First Romano-Carthaginian War and the end of causal preliminaries. The underlying historical cause (aDtAa) and the precipitating action (drxa) in this case coincided—the first step of the Romans for their own security is also the beginning of their rise to world dominion.

11. 1.13.11–12, 63.4–64.1, 64.5–6; 3.2.6; cf. Diod. 23.15.4; Thuc. 1.21 and 23; Luc. Hist. Conscr. 53, who prescribes magnification of the historian’s subject matter. 12. 1.7.12, with Walbank HC 1.52–53 ad 1.6–13; cf. 1.11.5–6 (punishment of the Carthaginian commander who lost Messana); 1.24.6–7 (crucifixion of Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander in Sardinia), with Rosenstein 1990: 9 and n. 2. 13. 1.6.3: the Romans had regained their state from the Gauls against all hope (dnelpAstv%); for an introduction to the role of Tyche in the Histories, see Walbank HC 1.16–26; Pédech 1964: 331–54. 14. 1.6.6; cf. 1.13.4–5 (Celtic agones). 15. See Toynbee 1965: 1.101–2, 260–61; Petzold 1969: 129–79.

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Chapter 7 opens with the introduction of Messana and the linking of the fates of Messana and Rhegium. The culprits in the misfortunes of both cities were Campanians (7.1–3, 7–8). Although the treacherous seizure of Rhegium by the forces under the Campanian general Decius angered the Romans, they were unable to take any action at this time because of their involvement in the series of wars recounted in chapter 6. Yet Rome did eventually punish the Campanians at Rhegium in brutal fashion in order to preserve the trust of its allies.16 There is a great deal of chronological compression here. The last-mentioned conflict in chapter 6 is the Pyrrhic War, but Pyrrhus ceased to pose a serious threat to Rome after his defeat at Beneventum in 275. The Roman reduction of Rhegium dates to 270.17 The historiographical implications of Polybius’s compressed narrative cannot be pressed too far, and this compression must in part stem from the summary nature of the introductory books 1–2 (cf. 1.5.4: kefalaiadh). Polybius telescopes all the events in these chapters in a causal chain leading to the Romans’ first crossing overseas; the historian is interested in the Nacheinander und Nebeneinander of events in a causal, not a temporal, sense.18 Yet the resultant narrative introduces an important key to Polybius’s representation of Roman collective group character. Although Polybius writes of Roman imperialistic ambitions,19 a pattern emerges in the actual historical narrative of these books in which Roman opponents are the aggressors. In Polybius’s account, Roman wars against Latins, Etruscans, Celts, Samnites, and Pyrrhus were defensive struggles for survival that hardened the Romans into great warriors. These wars led imperceptibly to the Roman reduction of the rebel garrison at Rhegium. Rome’s tardy response at Rhegium is camouflaged by the rapidity of Polybius’s narrative. The reduction of Rhegium precipitated another causal chain: Rome’s action weakened the Campanian mercenaries, who styled themselves the “Mamertines,” across the straits. In Polybius’s account, the blow suffered by the Mamertines upon the Roman reduction of Rhegium inspired King Hiero II of Syracuse to attack Messana, which in turn led to Mamertine appeals to Carthage and Rome against Syracusan aggression.20 In terms of the cultural politics that is 16. 1.7.8–13; cf. Liv. 31.29.10, 31.6 for a tradition that placed full responsibility for the seizure of Rhegium with the Romans; Val. Max. 2.7.15 records debates on the punishment of the Campanian survivors of the Roman siege. 17. Walbank HC 1.52–53 ad 1.7.6–13. Polybius presents the severity of Rome’s punitive expedition as an attempt to restore Roman fides (1.7.12–13), whereas Zonar. 8.6 (Campanian outrages at Croton) and Paus. 6.3.12 (destruction of Caulonia) suggest that the Romans took action only after the rebels had extended their marauding activities. 18. See Petzold 1969: 139–49. 19. E.g., 1.3.6, 20.1–2, 63.9–64.1; 2.31.7–8; 3.2.6–7; 6.50.3–6, with Walbank 1985: 138–56. 20. At 1.8.2–3, the Roman siege of Rhegium in 270 immediately precedes Hiero’s move against Messana in 265; see Walbank HC 1.54–55 ad 1.8.3.

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the focal point of this study, it is noteworthy that the Campanians at Messana claimed a distant genealogical connection with Romans as a part of their appeal.21 Of vital importance for Polybius’s representation of Roman collective group character is the fact that his narrative glosses over the time lag between the Campanians’ seizure of Rhegium and Rome’s punitive action against them. His narrative suggests swift Roman retribution against transgressors of justice; the historical interval, of course, compromises any such picture. Polybius rather emphasizes Campanian enormities at Rhegium and Messana, thereby relieving Rome of any responsibility for the excesses of Campanian troops in its service—men who, moreover, enjoyed Roman citizenship sine suffragio.22 After a decisive defeat at the river Longanus at the hands of Hiero (1.9.7–8), the Mamertines asked both Rome and Carthage for military assistance. Polybius states that for the Romans this appeal created a moral dilemma (10.3–4: dlogAan tp% bohueAa%) and that they agonized over contesting Carthage for control of Sicily. Since the Mamertines were guilty of the same criminal act as the garrison at Rhegium, any Roman assistance to Messana would clearly be unjust (10.4–6). On the other hand, the menace of an aggressive, imperialistic Carthage loomed large in the senatorial deliberations. The Carthaginians already controlled Libya and large portions of Spain, as well as islands in the Tyrrhenian and Sardinian seas. They would pose a great threat to Rome should all of Sicily fall into their hands (10.5–7), and this is precisely what would happen should Rome fail to assist the Mamertines. Indeed, Polybius states that the senators believed that Carthaginian occupation of Messana would serve as a bridgehead for a Carthaginian invasion of Italy.23 Yet apparently the questionable morality of Roman aid to the Mamertines prevented the senators from reaching a final decision on the matter (11.1; cf. 3.26.6). Polybius’s account of the Roman decision to cross over to Sicily is couched in uncertain terms, and a closer analysis of this narrative provides important insights into the historian’s portrayal of Roman collective group character in the First Romano-Carthaginian War. At this point in the narration of the preliminaries to war, Polybius’s account runs as follows: The majority (oC dB polloA), though, worn down by recent wars and in need of improved circumstances in every sense, voted to give assistance to the 21. 1.10.2–3; cf. Zonar. 8.8. 22. See Val. Max. 2.7.15 (cives Romanos); cf. Salmon 1967: 39 n. 1 on the legio Campana. Polybius later concedes that the Roman action could be condemned (3.26.6–7: paraspandhsan). 23. 1.10.9 (oQoneB gefyrpsai); according to Zonar. 8.8, the Carthaginians had conceived of a plan to subjugate Italy. Both the Carthaginian threat and Carthaginian power are greatly exaggerated and probably derive from the account of Fabius Pictor; see Walbank HC 1.57–58 ad 1.10.3.

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Mamertines when they listened eagerly to the commanders, who gave the above-stated reasons for advantages of going to war and held out prospects for the booty which each would derive from the campaign. (1.11.2–3)

The difficulty here lies in the phrase oC dB polloA, and scholars have engaged in a lively debate as to just what Polybius means by it. A. M. Eckstein has argued that this phrase must mean a majority in the Senate, maintaining that the dogma at 1.11.3 must be a senatus consultum; if oC polloA referred to the people in comitia, we would have the tautological expression that the people passed its already officially voted resolution.24 Had Polybius meant that the people in assembly passed a magisterial rogation, he would probably have used c dpmo%, not oC polloA. B. D. Hoyos, on the other hand, has demonstrated that the term dogma need not necessarily mean senatus consultum in a Roman context, and he suggests that there is no tautology here, as Polybius reports that the people decided upon war and then voted for it. Thus the way is cleared for understanding oC polloA as the people approving war in comitial assembly.25 Moreover, Eckstein’s allegedly parallel example of Polybian usage of oC polloA as referring to a majority of the Senate contrasts these with the more sober-minded members of the curia; there is no uncertainty there that we are dealing with a division in senatorial opinion.26 This cannot be said of the passage in question. Yet a broader historical perspective would support Eckstein’s interpretation. Although Polybius elsewhere states that the Roman people were the final arbiter in questions of war and peace (6.14.10–11), the idea that the Roman people in assembly took such a momentous decision while the senators sat in perplexity has little to commend it.27 Moreover, according to J. Rich, the formality of a Roman war vote, wherein one of the consuls put a rogatio to the centuriate assembly, is securely attested for only eight wars from the First Romano-Carthaginian War down to the end of the Republic, with the earliest being the vote against Carthage in 237 over the Sardinia affair. These all were overseas wars, for which, of course, there would have been no precedent at the time of the Messana crisis. Rich plausibly suggests that the

24. See Eckstein 1980a: 180–83; cf. Liv. Per. 16: auxilium Mamertinis ferendum senatus censuit (“the Senate decreed that aid must be sent to the Mamertines”). 25. Hoyos 1984, with bibliography at 93; followed by Rich 1993: 56 and 62. 26. 33.18.10–14; Eckstein 1980a: 184–85; cf. Baronowski 1995: 28 n. 32. 27. Cf. Eckstein 1987b: 80–83. The Senate’s de facto control in these matters was shown in 200, when the people reversed their decision to abstain from war against Philip V after being called to a contio by the consul: Liv. 31.8.1–2; see Mommsen 1887: 3.1.343 with n. 5, 344 with n. 3; Flaig 1995 on the comitia as Konsensorgan, esp. 80–81 and n. 13 for discussion of the few instances of the plebs rejecting magisterial rogationes.

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Roman people in 264 accepted a Mamertine deditio, with a provision that aid be sent to assist the Mamertines.28 Although this passage in Polybius is of paramount importance for understanding this crucial point in Roman history, our primary concern here is with Polybius’s narrative as it reveals his representation of Roman collective group character. In this regard we may state that, in keeping with the account of the wars summarized in 1.6, the Romans were defensively minded in their deliberations on the events in Sicily. The Roman decision to assist the Mamertines, at least on the part of the Senate, was motivated by fear of an expanding, offensively minded Carthage. The reader loses sight of the fact that the Mamertines were appealing to Rome against the aggression of Hiero II; Carthage looms as the imperialistic menace in the Polybian account.29 Finally, as the modern debate on 1.11.2–3 demonstrates, Polybius’s language obfuscates the identity of those actually responsible at Rome for the decision to cross over to Messana under arms. The imprecision of Polybius’s language, then, reinforces Roman senatorial moral fortitude and leaves the ultimate responsibility for the first Roman crossing overseas indeterminate. This ambiguity also helps to preserve the Polybian image of the Senate at the time of the outbreak of the war as a monolithic block exercising temperance and restraint, goaded into action only by the threat of external aggression. Roman steadfastness and resolve are constants in Polybius’s account of this war. Rome took the initiative in marching against Agrigentum in the war’s initial phase. The Roman siege in Polybius’s account reflects the keys to Roman success we have encountered in book 6: discipline and training. Carthage had selected Agrigentum as its primary base of operations (1.17.5–6), and the consuls for 262 concentrated their forces on a siege of the city (17.8). Here the rigor of Roman military institutions saved the Roman forces, caught unawares while foraging (17.11–13). The Romans, then, relying on the strength of their institutional system, turned potential disaster into victory.30 In fact, in Polybius’s account it was the Roman success at Agrigentum that led to the Roman aspiration of driving the Carthaginians entirely out of Sicily and motivated the Romans to construct a fleet.31 But adversity tried the Roman system here as well. The wholesale destruction of Roman naval power and Roman determination to rebuild fleets are frequent 28. Rich 1976: 13–17, 119–27; cf. Eckstein 1987b: 80–83, 335–37: two senatorial decisions at Rome and ratification by the centuriate assembly (acceptance of deditio; sending relief force to Sicily), stressing 3.26.6; 73–101 for the diplomatic/military situation facing Ap. Claudius Caudex in Sicily in 264. 29. See Eckstein 1980b; 1987a: 115–31 on Rome’s relations with Hiero II. 30. 1.17.12; cf. 6.37.10–13, a parallel passage suggesting that the present passage does not derive from Fabius Pictor; see Walbank HC 1.70 ad 1.17.11. 31. 1.20.1–3, with Walbank HC 1.72–73 ad 1.20.1–2; cf. Lazenby 1996: 54.

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occurrences in the course of the war. In 255 the Roman relief force returning from Africa was destroyed in a storm off Cape Pachynus; only 80 of the 364 ships survived. According to Polybius, this was the greatest naval disaster in history (1.37.3). Although the news of the naval disaster off Cape Pachynus caused great consternation at Rome (1.38.5), the Romans responded by constructing a fleet of 220 ships of war within three months, a feat Polybius considers to have been almost beyond belief.32 In 254 this rebuilt fleet cooperated with Roman land forces in storming and carrying the Carthaginian stronghold of Panormus.33 Rome suffered another blow at sea in its raiding expedition off the coast of Tripoli in the following year; at this time they lost 150 vessels off Cape Palinurus on the return voyage (39.6). This time they decided not to rebuild the fleet, yet Polybius points out that the Romans had lost none of their enthusiasm for prosecuting the war (39.7). By 243/242, locked in a stalemate on land against Hamilcar Barca, the Romans did build yet another fleet (59.2–3). The public treasury was exhausted; martial spirit alone sustained Rome (59.6: cyxomaxAa). The leading citizens’ zeal to excel and their nobility of character compelled them to offer their private resources to the needs of the state at war, as they undertook to reconstitute the fleet (59.6–7). The outcome of the naval battle off the Aegates Islands in the following year confirmed the wisdom of that communally spirited enterprise. The consul for 242/241 arrived in Sicily with the new Roman fleet and in no time turned his men into “athletes of war” for the decisive contest.34 The zeal of the Carthaginians is no less than that of Rome in Polybius’s account. The Roman commander P. Claudius Pulcher brought on the Roman disaster at Drepana by underestimating the courage and daring of the Carthaginian general Adherbal.35 In the final phases of the war Carthaginian resolve remained strong; the Carthaginians speedily reacted to Roman naval preparations in 241 (1.60.1–3). According to Polybius Carthaginian spirit remained unbroken even after the naval engagement off the Aegates Islands (62.1–2). In recounting the aftermath of the war, Polybius contrasts the strength of the Roman political system with some Carthaginian weaknesses. At the con32. 1.38.6. Cf. L. Piso ap. Plin. NH 16.192: Rome built 220 ships in forty-five days. 33. In 250 a Carthaginian attempt to recover Panormus failed. Diod. 23.21 preserves a tradition that the Carthaginian Celtic mercenaries were drunk and were partly responsible for the failed attempt. Polybius apparently desires to represent Carthage as a worthy opponent at the top of its form: in his account there is no sign of this tradition; rather the Carthaginian side fought bravely (1.40.11: dntifilodojoPnte%). In the following year Roman resolve was unaffected by the disaster at Drepana (see 1.52.4). 34. 1.59.12; cf. 1.6.6. Sources on C. Lutatius Catulus at MRR 1.218 under 242. 35. 1.49.4, 50.1–2. Polybius omits the famous tale of Roman irreligiosity that has Claudius drown the sacred chickens before the battle because they would not confer good omens by eating; Lazenby 1996: 134 n. 13 assembles the references.

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clusion of the war, both Romans and Carthaginians experienced a parallel development: the revolt of “allies” (1.65.1–2). Rome suppressed the revolt of the Falisci within a few days; the rebellion of the Carthaginian mercenaries proved to be a far more serious matter. The consequences of these disturbances reflected the virtues of Rome’s political organization and a weakness in the Carthaginian system. The study of Carthage’s struggle for survival in the Mercenary Revolt is an object lesson in Polybian statecraft on the folly of employing mercenary soldiers on a large scale.36 Polybius states that the Roman citizen-soldiers were superior to Carthage’s mercenaries (64.6; cf. 6.52.4–10), and in his view reliance upon mercenary forces was the fatal flaw in the Carthaginian state (65.7). Shortly after the signing of the modified treaty of Lutatius, which brought the war against Rome to a conclusion, the Carthaginian commander at Lilybaeum, Geskon, made provisions for transporting the mercenaries back to Africa. His plan was to ship them off in small groups, pay them their arrears, and send them home. The Carthaginian government, ignoring Geskon’s plan, detained the troops in the city and withheld back pay (66.1–6). A further series of Carthaginian miscalculations led to a savage war lasting over three years (88.7). In general terms, Carthage’s Mercenary Revolt provides an explanation for Carthage’s ultimate defeat in the war for Sicily: the absence of self-sufficiency (1.71.1–2). Yet although this defect embroiled the Carthaginians in a war of unparalleled brutality, Carthage nonetheless exhibited great resilience in its recovery. The Carthaginians displayed the same courage and resolve here as in the war against Rome, coming back from the brink of annihilation, regaining possession of Libya, and inflicting a condign punishment on the mercenary rebels (88.5–6). Polybius’s account of the Mercenary Revolt may be read as a coda to the main event of book 1, offering a clue to the Roman victory while reaffirming the formidable nature of Rome’s great adversary. ROMANS AGAINST ILLYRIANS

In the second and third books of the Histories, Polybius represents Roman wars against barbarian Illyrians and Gauls as defensive struggles with lawless and aggressive peoples. Illyrians were treacherous and unpredictable; Gauls, equally treacherous, posed a threat to Rome of the same magnitude as had the Carthaginians in the First Romano-Carthaginian War. Both peoples, Illyrians and Gauls, conform to Polybian barbarology. Throughout the Polybian account they exhibit impulsive behavior, greed, and unbridled passion, standing in sharp contrast to Roman rationality and discipline.

36. See Eckstein 1995b: 125–29 on Polybius’s general views on mercenaries.

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In Polybius’s estimation the Roman expedition to Illyria in 229, the first Roman crossing of the Adriatic, marked a critical stage in Roman expansion (2.2.2–3). The result of the expedition was never in doubt, as a superior Roman force reduced the Ardiaean queen-regent Teuta to submission in a single campaigning season.37 According to Polybius, Illyrian aggression was the cause of Rome’s first involvement across the Adriatic Sea. The Illyrian ruler Agron had acted as a mercenary in the service of the Macedonian king Demetrius II in relieving Medion from an Aetolian siege in 231 (2.5–6). The success of this enterprise prompted the barbarian leader to indulge in a debauch of such proportions that he died from its aftereffects. Teuta, Agron’s wife and successor, with the shortsightedness characteristic of women (2.4.8), encouraged the escalation of Illyrian piracy and treated everyone as an enemy. The Illyrians attacked Elis, Messenia, and Phoenice; only a defection of some of the Illyrian tribesmen to the Dardanians halted the barbarian aggression. Polybius maintains that the Illyrians had been menacing Italian maritime trading for some time. They committed further outrages in 230 while besieging the Epirote city of Phoenice. Roman envoys investigated (2.8.1–4). At this point in his narration Polybius inserts a character sketch of Teuta before the arrival of the Roman embassy. According to his interpretation, the queen-regent, much like her deceased husband, Agron, after the expedition to Medion, was astounded by the spoils from Phoenice. She showed more self-possession and restraint than did Agron, which in itself provides interesting commentary on the topsy-turvy world of Polybius’s barbarians. These riches nonetheless stirred Teuta’s greed, and her eagerness for further unjust actions increased (8.4–5). The Roman ambassadors encountered Teuta at Issa (8.5–6). Polybius’s account of their interview with the queen-regent provides a case study in Polybian barbarology. Here Teuta argues that the Illyrians subordinate the communal good to the private desires of individuals; the Roman ambassador counters that the Romans punish private wrongdoers publicly.38 Such different orientations would seem to have precluded any rapprochement, and Teuta heard the Roman grievances in a haughty and overbearing manner (8.7–8), receiving the Roman reprimand with womanly and irrational petulance.39 To crown her barbarous behavior, she defied the common laws of humankind in having one of the Roman ambassadors mur-

37. 2.11.1 (size of Roman expeditionary force); 2.12.3–4 (surrender and treaty). On the socalled First Illyrian War, see Badian 1964: 1–33; Gruen 1984: 359–68; Champion 1997a: 120 (Macedonian perspective). 38. 2.8.8: koinu . . . DdAi (Teuta); 8.10: kat\ DdAan . . . koinu (Coruncanius). 39. 2.8.12: gynaikouAmv% kaB dlogAstv%. This is, of course, typically Polybian barbarian behavior, but here Polybius’s misogyny (cf., for example, 2.4.8; 31.26.10) overdetermines Teuta’s irrationality; see Pédech 1964: 235 n. 144; Eckstein 1995b: 150–57.

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dered on the return voyage.40 The Romans, of course, swiftly reacted to Teuta’s lawlessness (8.13). The following chapters develop the contrast between Roman good faith and Illyrian treachery. Here we are presented with another historical example of Illyrian ruthlessness, as Teuta persisted in piratical activities. The Epidamnians received the Illyrians into their city in good faith. The Illyrians entered under the pretext that they were in need of water and provisions, but in reality they hoped to gain possession of the city. Once inside Epidamnus, the Illyrians slaughtered the gate guard and occupied the tower (2.9.2–3). The Epidamnians saved their city only through a gallant resistance (9.6–7). Foiled at Epidamnus, the Illyrians next descended upon Corcyra, defeated an Aetolian-Achaean naval force off Paxos, and received the surrender of the Corcyraeans. Upon the arrival of a Roman relief force the Corcyraeans immediately entrusted themselves to Roman protection. In this passage the contrast between Roman fides and Illyrian lawlessness could hardly be made more explicitly (11.5–6: ^RvmaAvn pAstin . . . \Illyripn paranomAan). As the Roman force approached Epidamnus (again under siege), the Illyrians broke and fled in disorder (11.9–10). Illyrian resistance quickly crumbled, and in spring 228 a treaty rendered Teuta virtually powerless (12.3–4). Roman legates traveled to the Achaean and Aetolian confederations, Corinth, and Athens in order to justify Roman military action across the Adriatic (12.8). The Romans had freed the Greeks, Polybius concludes, from a terrible menace, the Illyrians, enemies of all humankind (12.6: ppsi . . . koinoB% DxuroA%). Demetrius of Pharos demonstrates Illyrian failings of character similar to those of Teuta. This dynast had turned Corcyra over to the Romans.41 He was granted Roman amicitia and thereafter acted as a guide for the Roman forces.42 His subsequent actions, as Polybius describes them, are of a piece with the historian’s representations of Teuta and the Illyrian people as a whole (cf. 3.19.9–10: dlagiston . . . gkriton). After some time, Demetrius, calculating that the Romans were preoccupied with the Gauls and Carthaginians, blatantly disregarded his Roman benefactors (3.16.2–4). He proceeded to violate the terms of the treaty of 228 in sailing south of Lissus and pillaging the Illyrian subjects of Rome.43 Rome took action in the spring 40. 2.8.12; see Gruen 1984: 361 n. 10 for variants in the literary tradition. Derow 1973 argues that Appian’s account, which includes the role of Issa, has knowledge of Pinnes, and has the murder of ambassadors en route to Illyria, is preferable to Polybius’s. 41. 2.11.5. The fact that Demetrius was most certainly ethnically Greek is inconsequential to this discussion, which is concerned with Polybius’s representations. 42. 3.16.2, 4 (amicitia); 2.11.6 (Demetrius as guide). 43. 3.16.3. There were no Illyrian subjects of Rome as a result of the settlement of 228: 2.12.3–4; see Gruen 1984: 368 n. 46; contra Derow 1991, which suggests that Rome had some sort of alliance with several Greek cities across the Adriatic from 228 based on the extant text

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of 219, smoked Demetrius out of his base at Pharos, and the consul L. Aemilius Paullus celebrated a triumph before summer’s end.44 Polybius relays that Demetrius then fled to the court of Philip V, where his evil character perverted the judgment of the Macedonian monarch.45 There is, in fact, little to suggest that Demetrius ever considered that Rome would perceive his actions as an affront to Roman dignitas. He was careful to avoid the Roman amici of Epidamnus, Apollonia, and Corcyra in his marauding expeditions.46 Yet what is important here is the fact that in Polybius’s account Demetrius offers an example, as Agron and Teuta had done before him, of Illyrian character: intemperate, treacherous, irrational, and covetous. Romans appear as victims of ingratitude, eliminating a lawless aggressor who had provoked them into action. GA LLIC duesAa AND pleonejAa

In Polybius’s narrative the Gauls exhibit many of the same collective character flaws as the Illyrians, providing another example of Polybius’s barbarian typology in action. The Gallic mercenary garrison at Phoenice betrayed the city to the Illyrians (2.5.4–5), and the Epirotes provided an object lesson on the stupidity of entrusting a city to a strong mercenary force, foreign and barbarian (2.7.12–8.1). Polybius here censures the Epirotes; surely they knew of the reputation and prior conduct of Gauls (7.5–6). Polybius provides the reader with a catalogue of the barbarous behaviors of Gallic peoples. In 284 at Arretium Gauls had treacherously slain the legates of M’. Curius Dentatus, who had come to treat with the Gauls for the return of Roman prisoners.47 In 223 the consul C. Flaminius had declined to employ his Gallic forces against the Insubres on account of Gallic faithlessness.48 In 218 the Boii and Insubres imprisoned a Roman party under truce from Mutina (3.40.10: paraspondasante%). Before the battle at the Trebia, the Gallic allies in the Roman army brutally slaughtered and decapitated the Romans in their camp and went over to Hannibal. In this chapter (3.67),

from Pharos/Hvar (see SEG 23.489), which cannot be securely dated; cf. 2.11.17 for Demetrius’s autonomy (dynasteAa), now with the detailed arguments of Eckstein 1999 against a Roman foedus sociale with Pharos in 228. On Rome’s avoidance of formal, extra-Italian treaties of alliance in this period, see the assembled references at Eckstein 1980b: 191 n. 25. 44. See Fine 1936: 35 n. 73; triumph: 3.19.12–13; 4.66.8. 45. 3.19.8–9; 5.12.5–8, with Champion 1997a: 124–25. 46. See Gruen 1984: 368–73. 47. 2.19.9–10: paraspondasante%; on Dentatus’s career, see Brennan 1994. 48. 2.32.8: Galaktikbn duesAan; cf. 3.49.2 (P. Scipio amazed at Hannibal’s route through Gallic lands); 3.52.3 (treachery of Alpine tribesmen); 3.70.4 (P. Scipio’s warning of Gallic faithlessness before the battle at the Trebia); 3.78.2 (Hannibal fears Gallic treachery); see Walbank HC 1.208 ad 2.32.8.

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Polybius repeatedly stresses Gallic treachery (paraspandhma). Here the historian does not name the friendly tribe of the Anares but only mentions P. Scipio’s reliance on topography and the loyalty of the neighboring allies.49 Gallic covetousness drives Gallic treachery. Polybius closes his geographical survey of the Italian Celtic peoples with the account of the Gauls’ expulsion of the Etruscans from their homeland on a small pretext. The Gauls really moved in order to possess the fertile Po River valley (2.17.3–4). Gallic aggression and greed turned potential conflicts with Romans into realities. Although Polybius states that C. Flaminius’s land distribution scheme in the ager Gallicus led to conflict with the Gauls, he also stresses Gallic greed. The Insubres and Boii, according to him, incited the Gaesatae with prospects of plunder.50 A pattern emerges. Like Illyrians, Gauls subordinate collective interests and communal concerns to individual desires. Polybius illustrates this point with an event early in the third century. In 299 Gauls raided Roman territory and made off with a massive quantity of war booty. Upon returning home they argued over the division of spoils and proceeded to destroy not only the plunder but each other as well.51 Polybius adds that this sort of behavior is a common occurrence among the Gauls, a people given over to license and debauchery. Gallic pleonexia appears to have overwhelmed the Allobroges in Hannibal’s passage of the Alps. In Polybius’s account they have no self-will, as they are called out by the prospects for plunder (3.51.2–3; cf. 51.11). Despite their greed and uncontrollable passions, Gauls nonetheless appear in Polybius as ferocious warriors representing a serious threat to Rome’s existence. In his digression on the Gauls, Polybius extols the fighting qualities of the Italian Celts (2.15.7). He notes that on their first invasion of Italy the Gauls cowed the inhabitants of the Po valley into submission through their audacity. On the longer view, Polybius points out that the Romans waged savage wars against Gallic peoples in the fourth and third centuries, and they gained two advantages for the future from these experiences. First, as they had become inured to massacres at the hands of the Gauls, they could imagine no experience more horrific than that which they already had endured. Second, these experiences turned the Romans into first-class warriors (18.1–22.1). Just as C. Lutatius Catulus turned his sailors into “athletes of war” before the decisive engagement off the Aegates Islands in the First

49. 3.67.9–68.1, with Walbank HC 1.402 ad 3.67.9. 50. 2.21.8–9 (Flaminius); 2.17.3–4, 22.2–3 (Gallic greed). On the events, see Eckstein 1987b: 3–23; Staveley 1989: 431–36; Feig Vishnia 1996: 11–48. 51. 2.19.3–4: tbn tpn eDlhmmAnvn pleonejAan; cf. 2.21.1–7 for another instance of Gallic self-annihilation in 237; see Rawlings 1996 for an interesting distinction between “soldier” and “warrior” in a discussion of “chieftain societies” in the Hannibalic War; and Webster 1996 on ancient and modern stereotypes of Celtic “warrior societies.”

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Romano-Carthaginian War (1.59.12), so too these early struggles against the Gauls turned the Romans into champions of warfare, preparing them for future contests against Pyrrhus and the Carthaginians (2.20.9–10: dulhtaB tAleioi gegonate%). After forty-five years of peace, a younger generation of Gauls, having forgotten the horrors of war and filled with youthful intemperance, recommenced hostilities, according to their nature.52 The supreme test came some thirteen years later in the Gallic tumultus of 225. At this time the tribes of the Boii and Insubres set out confidently against Rome in full force. Polybius describes the great fear at Rome in the face of such a massive Gallic invasion; this fear had long ago been implanted in the Roman national psyche.53 It was not unfounded; the tumultus was a bitterly fought war in which both sides displayed great courage and tenacity (2.34.7–35.1). The climactic battle at Telamon in 225 displayed the barbaric ferocity of the Gauls: here Gallic warriors brought the severed head of the Roman consul C. Atilius to their chieftains.54 Polybius relays the formidable appearance of the Gauls’ disposition of their troops. The earth reverberated with the blasts of the Celtic trumpeters, and the Gaesatae displayed their reckless audacity in entering the fray naked.55 Insubres, Boii, and Taurisci stood their ground and fell to a man, overcome only by the inferiority of their weaponry. In this connection, Polybius states that Gallic swords were useless after the first blow.56 Forty thousand Gauls perished on that battlefield; another ten thousand survived as Roman war captives. According to Polybius, the Romans had withstood on this day the most serious of the Gallic invasions. The Polybian account contrasts Gallic passion and inconstancy with Roman training and discipline. Gauls exhibited extremes of offering themselves to a frenzied death on the battlefield and headlong flight from the enemy.57 The surviving Roman consul, on the other hand, collected the spoils and sent them on to Rome, while returning the Gallic booty to its rightful owners (2.31.3–4). By 223 the military tribunes had observed the characteristics of Gauls in battle, disposing the Roman troops accordingly. Polybius remarks that Roman military training and discipline prevail even under inept commanders such as C. Flaminius (33.1–9). 52. As in the case of Teuta, impetuous behavior is overdetermined—Gauls qua barbarians and qua youths. For irrational youth in Polybius, see Eckstein 1995b: 140–50; Champion 1997a: 124–25. 53. 2.23.7–8; see Bellen 1985: 11–19. 54. 2.27.1–31.8, 28.10 for Atilius’s decapitation, with Rawlings 1996: 87–88; but note 11.18.6 (Achaeans take the head of Machanidas) and the tradition that Flaminius decorated his helmet with a Suebic scalp in 223: Sil. Pun. 5.132–34. 55. 2.29.6–8; cf. Liv. 21.28.1–2. 56. 2.33.3–4; archaeological evidence does not support Polybius’s contention; see Sabin 1996: 62 n. 19; cf. 74 and n. 100 on Roman military equipment. 57. Cf. 3.79.4–7 for Gallic laxity and indiscipline in comparison with Libyans and Iberians.

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Polybius maintains that in terms of the desperation and courage of its combatants, as well as the numbers of its casualties, the Gallic tumultus was second to no war in history (2.35.2–3). Strategically, however, the Gauls’ performance was contemptible; their defeat was the inevitable result of a case of passion prevailing over reason (35.3–4: uymu mpllon h logismu brabeAesuai). This war, then, provides a paradigmatic lesson in Polybian barbarology. The Romans, as possessors of Hellenic logismos, triumphed over the irrational impulse of the barbarian Gauls. Here Polybius aligns the Roman victory over the Gauls with the fifth-century Greek resistance against Persia and the Greek repulse of the Gauls from Delphi in 279. The summation of the Romano-Gallic wars serves as a transition from Roman to Achaean affairs, where we shall once again find in the Achaeans a parallel lesson in the superiority of cool logic over unreasoning force.58 HANNIBA L AND THE HANNIBA LIC WAR

In the Hannibalic War, Rome faced a determined, highly trained force under a great commander. Hannibal displayed the same brilliant and daring generalship as his father, Hamilcar Barca, had in the final phases of the First Romano-Carthaginian War in Sicily.59 In Polybius’s estimation, Hannibal’s forces were the equals of Rome’s in terms of fighting spirit, military equipment, and experience.60 Unlike Rome’s wars against Illyrians and Gauls, this was not a simple matter of logismos against thumos. Hannibal carefully observes and calculates before taking action,61 and Polybius views him as one of the truly great figures in history.62 Cannae was of course the fiercest engagement of the war and revealed the high qualities of both sides (3.115.2–3, 117.1–2). Yet Polybius’s representation of Hannibal is not without ambiguities. Although the Carthaginians were the equals of the Romans and Hannibal himself was the most brilliant of field commanders, Polybius’s account reveals deficiencies in Hannibal’s character running parallel to his portrait of Carthaginian collective character. Carthage, having reached its zenith at

58. See Champion 1996: 324–28 on 2.35. 59. See 1.64.6 (Hamilcar Barca’s military genius); 2.1.7–9 (Hamilcar’s glorious end); 2.36.3–4 on Hannibal. 60. Cf. 3.35.8 (experience); 8.1.1–8 (level of preparedness); 15.14.6 (fighting spirit at Zama); 15.15.6–7; 18.28.9–10 (equipment); Polybius sums up the formidability of Hannibal’s threat to Rome at 3.89.5–6. 61. 3.42.5–6, 51.6, 100.1–2, 111.1, with Pédech 1964: 242–43 and n. 174, 376; 538 with n. 129 for Hannibal’s masterly use of topography in battle strategy. 62. Polybius eulogizes Hannibal at 23.13.1–2; cf. 3.69.12–14; 9.22.7–26.11 (influence of friends and circumstances); 10.33.1–7; 11.19.1–7; 15.15.3–16.6; Pédech 1964: 216 (“une figure idéalisée”).

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the time of the First Romano-Carthaginian War (1.13.12), was in decline in the second war (6.51.3–4). The imbalance resulting from the preponderance of the democratic element at Carthage was the cause.63 For Polybius the impulsive general populace is the most dangerous element in every state (6.56.11–12; cf. 6.44.1–9, 57.8–9). In Polybius’s estimation, passion and irrationality, the very forces controlling Polybius’s barbarian Illyrians and Gauls, began to rule Carthage at the time of the Hannibalic War. Hannibal’s behavior in the preliminaries to the war against Rome exhibits the uyma% that for Polybius dominates states in which the popular element prevails. On the strength of Polybius’s statements on the causal relationship between institutional structures and individual behaviors (6.47.3–5), we may read Hannibal’s actions as illustrations of Carthaginian collective character on an individual level. Throughout his account of the Hannibalic War, Polybius presents the picture of a monolithic Carthage. He presents a similar picture of Rome. Rome went to war by unanimous consensus; there is no room in the Polybian account for factionalism and divided opinion on policy in the Senate.64 Other sources present a more complicated picture; and in its simplification of decision making at both Rome and Carthage, Polybius’s account of the origins of the war is open to the charge of historical distortion.65 Certainly the Roman embassy of 218 headed by M. Fabius Buteo was prepared to relieve Carthage of responsibility for Hannibal’s actions on the principle of noxal liability: had they served up Hannibal, he alone could have served to expiate the guilt of his aggressions.66 As regards Hannibal and Carthage, Polybius remarks that had Carthage not been solidly behind Hannibal, the Carthaginians would have delivered him to the Romans and thereby precluded another war, especially if Hannibal had been acting without governmental authorization (3.8.9–11). On the contrary, Polybius maintains, Han63. 6.51.6, with Fritz 1954: 114–22; Pédech 1964: 309, 428. For the tradition that the Barcids built their power at Carthage upon the people as opposed to the aristocracy, see Diod. 25.8; Nep. Ham. 3.3; cf. Gsell 1918: 262. 64. At 3.20.1–10 Polybius says that Rome sent an embassy to Carthage immediately upon receiving news that Saguntum had fallen (autumn 219), but the war declaration came in midMarch at the earliest, as the consuls of 219, L. Aemilius Paullus and M. Livius Salinator, were on the five-man commission that delivered the ultimatum: Liv. 21.18.1–3; MRR 1.239, with Ebel 1976: 21–22. Balanced discussion of the historical problems at Rich 1976: 28–44, adducing the principle of postponement ad novos consules to account for the apparent delay in Roman military action. 65. Factionalism at Carthage: Liv. 21.2.4, 3.1–4.1, 9.4–11.1; Diod. 25.8; App. Ib. 4–5, 8–9; Hann. 2–3; Zonar. 8.21–22; Sil. Pun. 2.276–377; senatorial debates: 3.20.1–5; Liv. 21.6.6–7.1; Dio frag. 55 B; Zonar. 8.22; Sil. Pun. 1.675–94; App. Ib. 11; Walbank HC 1.331–32 ad 3.20.1; Frier [1979] 1999: 245 and n. 50; Rich 1976: 110 n. 182 for assembled references to modern works rejecting Polybius’s account. 66. MRR 1.239 for sources on the embassy; Rich 1976: 109–18.

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nibal had been unanimously approved as commander in chief in Iberia. Moreover, the Carthaginians had been looking for an opportunity to take their vengeance on Rome.67 By firmly linking Hannibal’s actions to a seemingly monolithic, unified Carthage, Polybius invites the reader to view his actions as typically Carthaginian.68 And Polybius’s account reveals unreasoning passion in Hannibal’s behavior. This war fits an emerging pattern in which Romans fight defensive wars after having been provoked into action by the irrational and grasping impulses of an opponent. Yet here all is not so simple in the Polybian narrative. In his discussion of Romano-Carthaginian treaties (3.22.1–30.4), Polybius clearly states that the Roman seizure of Sardinia and the Roman imposition of a further war indemnity against Carthage in 237 were contrary to justice. He dismisses the Roman charge that the Carthaginians had seized Roman traders during the Mercenary Revolt. On the contrary, Polybius insists, Rome recovered all prisoners without ransom. In fact, the Romans were so pleased with Carthaginian magnanimity in this regard that they returned their Carthaginian war captives and were eager to comply with Carthaginian requests (3.28.1–4; cf. 1.83.7–11). Rome’s seizure of Sardinia comes up again in consideration of the aitiai of the war, but here Polybius is inconclusive. If we are to consider the destruction of Saguntum as the cause of the war, then the Carthaginians must be held responsible. Yet if we consider the seizure of Sardinia and subsequent indemnity, then we must agree that Carthage had good reasons for going to war.69 Yet although this passage admits that the Roman seizure of Sardinia was an unjust and provocative act, it also shows that in any case Carthage actually initiated the war. In this regard this war is in accord with the pattern of the First Romano-Carthaginian, Illyrian, and Gallic wars: Rome is on the defensive.70 The Roman seizure of Sardinia is embedded in Polybius’s discussion of causal factors of the conflict, with Carthage occupying the emphatic first and last positions in Polybius’s list of the causes of war.71 The first cause was 67. 3.13.1–5. Meyer 1924: 366 n. 3 long ago saw the implied silence of the Carthaginian Senate at 3.33.4 (cf. Liv. 21.18.14: omnes responderunt) as evidence for a minority favoring peace. Polybius’s account elsewhere seems to belie the image of a monolithic Carthage. Hannibal sent home part of the spoils from Saguntum in order to ensure the goodwill (eDnoAa) of the Carthaginian government (3.17.7–8); he attained his aim, but assurance of complete support at home was not immediate: 3.17.11, 34.7, with Walbank HC 1.329 ad 3.17.7. 68. Cf. 3.78.1–2, where Hannibal’s disguise is typically Phoenician; also Liv. 22.1.3–4; Zonar. 8.24. 69. 3.30.3–4; see Walbank 1983 for discussion of this passage and aitiai at 3.9–10. 70. Cf. Dubuisson 1985: 285. Carey 1996, employing passages from the Digest, argues that in 237 the Romans acted within their own legal/religious framework and that Polybius misunderstood this. I find this argument ingenious but unpersuasive, as there is great danger of anachronism in adducing late legal texts as evidence for the mid-third century. 71. See Rich 1976: 64–71; 1996: 5 n. 15 for works on Polybius’s views of the causes of war.

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Hamilcar Barca’s passionate hatred of Rome. Hamilcar would have recommenced hostilities soon after the naval defeat off the Aegates Islands, had it not been for Carthaginian preoccupation with the rebellious mercenaries (3.9.6–9). The seizure of Sardinia, admittedly, was the second and greatest cause. But the great significance of this event lay in its effect upon Hamilcar Barca and the Carthaginian people. Hamilcar, bolstered by the indignation of the Carthaginians, created a Spanish Carthaginian empire with the express purpose of making war on Rome. Carthaginian success in Spain was the third and final cause of war (10.4–6). As a coda to this list, we have the introduction of the theme of the “wrath of the Barcids”; the young Hannibal’s oath of undying hatred toward Rome, sworn before his father and the Carthaginian gods in Spain. Polybius apparently made an important innovation with the Barcid-wrath theme in transferring the Barcids’ passionate hatred of Rome to the Carthaginian people as a whole.72 The Roman commission that went to New Carthage in autumn 220 in order to investigate affairs at Saguntum found an impetuous youth seething with hatred (3.15.6–7). Again, irrational, impulsive behavior in this case seems to be overdetermined not only by the Barcid-wrath theme and by Hannibal as mirror of a degenerating Carthaginian state, but also by Hannibal’s youth, another of Polybius’s forces for irrational chaos. In charging the Romans with injustices against pro-Carthaginian Saguntines, Hannibal lost control of his emotions and went well beyond the bounds of reason (15.9). The incident provides an object lesson on the folly of giving vent to the passions. Polybius points out that Hannibal should have demanded the return of Sardinia and the remission of the indemnity, rather than dwelling on Saguntum, an issue irrelevant for his purposes (15.10–12). In summing up Hannibal’s career in book 11, Polybius states that defeat in his case resulted from miscalculation. Had Hannibal begun by conquering the rest of the world, leaving the Romans for last, he could not have failed to achieve his ultimate aim: the destruction of Rome. Hannibal, in the end, failed to exercise Hellenic logismos.73 In chapter 3 I have tried to make a case that the formal institutional structures and dominant cultural practices of politeiai provide the key to understanding Polybius’s formulation of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity. In the present argument I have suggested that Hannibal’s actions reflect Carthaginian collective group character on an individual level. Carthage itself was in a state of degeneration, as the democratic element there, always characterized by unreasoning passion and violent spirit, had grown too strong. I believe 72. See 3.11.1–12.5; cf. 2.36.4–7; 3.86.11–87.1; Rich 1996: 14 n. 55 for modern views on the “Barcid wrath” thesis. 73. 11.19.6–7; cf. Eckstein 1989 on Hannibal’s irrationality in Polybius; Rich 1996: 9 and n. 33; Wiedemann 1990: 298.

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that lexical analysis greatly strengthens this argument. Polybius describes the masses as full of irrational angers and aggressive impulses (6.56.11: drgp% dlagoy, uymoP biaAoy). At the meeting with the Roman commission in 220 at New Carthage, Hannibal exhibited unreasoning and emotional behavior (3.15.9: plarh% dlogAa% kaB uymoP biaAoy). Finally, in his description of the youthful and impulsive generation of barbarian Gauls of the 230s, Polybius uses the same language in stating that the Gauls were full of irrational spirit (2.21.2: uymoP . . . dlogAstoy plarei%). The semantic nexus could hardly be clearer: in books 1–3 Roman enemies conform to the negative pole of Polybius’s Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity. ROMAN “HELLENIC” VIRTUES IN THE A FTERMATH OF CANNAE

As we learn from book 6, the real value of a political system is revealed in times of extreme good fortune or disaster, and the Roman politeia reached its most perfected form at the time of the Hannibalic War (6.2.5–6, 11.1). In such a polity, in the historian’s conception, the citizens are of one mind and committed to the communal good. These qualities are evident in Polybius’s narration of Rome’s darkest hours in its struggle with Hannibal. Polybius represents Rome, like Carthage, as a monolithic entity in books 1–3. He states that the Romans determined on war immediately upon receiving the news of Saguntum’s fall; this picture, as we have seen, is at odds with other ancient testimony in the literary tradition. According to Polybius, the Senate promptly sent envoys to Carthage, demanding Hannibal’s surrender (3.20.6–7). Carthage’s refusal meant war. Roman discipline emerged in the face of defeat. Roman troops at Trasimene refused flight and perished (3.84.7–9). After defeat at the Trebia, Rome made all necessary preparations to persevere, and Roman formidability emerged in this time of extreme peril (75.8). For Polybius the fact that no Italian state rebelled against Rome after the disasters at Trasimene and Trebia showed the allies’ great awe and respect for the Roman political system.74 Upon news of the crushing defeat at Trasimene, Polybius states that the common people were utterly crushed, but the Senate, exercising the Hellenic virtue of self-possession, retained reason and correctly assessed the needs of the moment (85.9–10). The additional news a few days later of the massacre of C. Centenius’s relief force threw even the senators into bewilderment. Yet Rome’s political system now took effect with the appointment of Q. Fabius Maximus as dictator (86.6–7, 87.7–9). Romans displayed the same steadfast courage at Cannae, the nadir of Roman fortunes (116.9–12). Polybius says that the Romans now lost all hope of retaining their control not 74. 3.90.14; cf. the situation at the end of the First Romano-Carthaginian War, in which only the Falisci rebelled and were quickly reduced to submission (1.65.2–3).

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only of Italy, but even of their own city and homes, as they expected the appearance of Hannibal at any moment. The Senate took firm control of the situation by encouraging the populace, preparing for the defense of Rome, and deliberating on all necessary measures to meet the coming challenge. In the Polybian account, the “Hellenic” virtue of the Roman constitution, the guiding principle of reason under the Senate’s direction, enabled the Romans to overcome Cannae, defeat Carthage, and ultimately attain universal empire (3.118.5–10).

Achaean Group Character in Books 2, 4, and 5 THE ACHAEAN POLITICA L PROAIRESIS AND THE ACHAEAN KOINON

In Polybius’s eyes, the early historical development of the Achaean Confederation reveals the Achaean political principle, or proaAresi%. This principle consists in concern for law and order, equality and freedom, and the subordination of individual desires to the common good. The excellence of the Achaean Confederation’s political system attracted imitators, and, as we should expect from Polybius’s political theory, this system was directly responsible for Achaean successes. Many of these, Polybius adds, were in collaboration with the Romans (2.42.4–5). In books 2, 4, and 5 Polybius stresses the legality of Achaean collective actions. In 227, hard pressed by the Spartan king Cleomenes, the Achaean statesman Aratus effected a Megalopolitan embassy to Antigonus Doson seeking Macedonian military assistance against Sparta. There must have been a great deal of dissension among the Achaean ruling elite concerning an approach to the Confederation’s traditional enemy, Macedonia, and Polybius concedes that Aratus conducted this (and many other) operations secretly.75 Indeed, political circumstances may have forced Aratus’s hand in this matter.76 Yet notwithstanding the secrecy surrounding these negotiations, in Polybius’s representation the operations followed proper Achaean legal procedure. The Megalopolitan embassy was to proceed first to the autumn Achaean synodos of 227, and if the Confederation were to approve the mission, they were to hasten to Macedonia (48.6–7). The Achaean federal meeting of spring 226 condoned Aratus’s machinations and passed a decree to carry on the war against Cleomenes unaided, with the tacit understanding that Doson would be called in, if needed (51.1–2). After a series of reverses, however, the Achaeans unanimously agreed to appeal to the Macedonian king for assistance (51.4). 75. 2.47.9–10. See Walbank 1933: 70–88 on the political background of the embassy, though the author there erroneously dates it to 229; corrected at Walbank HC 1.246 ad 2.47.6; 1940: 14. Urban 1979: 125–35 analyzes the evidence for this mysterious embassy; see Nottmeyer 1995: 165 n. 1 for assembled references on the subsequent treaty of 224. 76. See Gruen 1972.

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The Achaean concern for proper legal procedure in Polybius’s representation is further evident in his account of the preliminaries to the Social War of 220–217. Polybius points out that the Achaeans refused to admit the Messenians into Doson’s symmachy without first consulting the young king Philip V and their other allies.77 He emphasizes correct legal proceedings in Achaean meetings of 220 that responded to the Messenian crisis. Indeed, Polybius introduces the resolutions of the third Achaean synodos of this year in the official language of formal decrees of state.78 With these resolutions formally approved by the synodos, the Achaeans proceeded to action. The embassy went to Philip, Messenia received Achaean support against Aetolia, and the Achaean strategos levied the required number of troops according to decree.79 In the war, the extraordinary assembly, or synkletos, summoned to Aegium by Philip V, met in accordance with traditional practices of the Confederation.80 Toward the war’s end, Aratus resolved Achaean internal disputes, and Achaean resolutions were engraved upon a stele beside the altar of Hestia in the Homarium.81 Throughout Polybius’s account of the Social War, correct legal procedure is a hallmark of the Achaean political proaAresi%. Equality and freedom of speech are the bases of this Achaean political principle in Polybius’s representation (2.38.6: DshgorAa, parrhsAa). In his account, Philopoemen took a bold initiative at the battle at Sellasia because he realized that Achaean freedom rested on the outcome (69.1–2). Polybius states that one could not find a state more favorable to equality, freedom of speech, and truly democratic principles than the Achaean koinon (38.6–7; cf. 42.3). At the root of these qualities stands the Hellenic virtue of logismos. As we have seen, reasoning power is the prerequisite for a developed sense of collective responsibility and the ability to subordinate individual desires to communal well-being in Polybius’s thought. And communal concerns are for Polybius a characteristic feature of the Achaean political principle. Relations with allies reflect Achaean selflessness. The Achaeans demanded nothing for the services rendered to allies, save the freedom of each state and the con77. 4.9.3–4; cf. 15.2–4. The synodos also resolved to appeal to the alliance for aid against Aetolian depredations. At 4.15.2 Polybius contrasts Achaean legality with Aetolian disregard for treaties. 78. 4.15.1–7; for the date, see Aymard 1938a: 263–66; Larsen 1955: 80; Walbank HC 1.461–62 ad 4.14.1. For internal Achaean discord, see 4.14.1–8, with Aymard 1938a: 265 n. 4. 79. 4.15.6–7; cf. 26.2–3, where the symmachy also functions according to strict legal procedure: the war motion of the council at Corinth required the separate ratification of each member state. 80. 5.1.7: katb toB% namoy% (“according to the laws”), with Aymard 1938a: 308–9; Walbank HC 3.406–14; cf. Larsen 1955: 168 on the phrase katb toB% namoy%. 81. 5.93.9–10; cf. 93.1; on the Homarium, see 5.93.10, with Walbank HC 1.624 ad loc.; Beck 1997: 55 n. 6.

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cord of the Peloponnesus (42.5–7; 43.8–9). According to Polybius, previous attempts at Peloponnesian unification failed because they were in the interest of arche, the dominance of one group over another. The Achaeans, in contradistinction, have striven for the common freedom of the Peloponnesians.82 Original members, according to the historian, are on exactly the same footing as those recently incorporated, and in Polybius’s time the Achaean koinon has effected collective harmony, Peloponnesian homonoia.83 Megalopolitans showed the extreme sacrifice to the collective good after Cleomenes had taken the city: Megalopolis preferred to forfeit its land, tombs, sacred ground, and territory rather than abandon the Achaean koinon and Doson’s symmachy (61.10–11). In Polybius’s representation, then, a concern for proper legal procedure, a commitment to equality and freedom, and a harmonious, communal spirit are characteristics of the Achaean political principle. The historian sets out to confirm his historical generalizations with concrete facts (2.42.1–7), and yet Polybius’s own historical demonstration belies his picture of the Confederation. Polybius stresses the legality of Achaean actions, but he refers to Aratus’s seizure of Acrocorinth at Macedonia’s expense in 243 as an act of injustice (ddikAa); and well it was, as Macedonia and the Confederation were at peace at that time.84 Placed in the most favorable light, Aratus’s machinations in 227, leading ultimately to Doson’s intervention in the Peloponnesus, were quasi-legal.85 In the strategeia of Lysippus (202/201), Philopoemen hastened to the relief of Messene, then under siege by the Spartan tyrant Nabis. He took this action as a private citizen with no legal authority.86 A decade later, Philopoemen again acted without the force of law and as a private citizen in shutting the Achaean strategos Diophanes and the Roman commander Flamininus out of Sparta and settling the stasis there on his own authority.87 Although two of the architects of the Achaean political proaAresi% undertook these actions (2.40.2–3), these events occurred either when Aratus as strategos acted in an extralegal capacity or when Philopoemen did not hold 82. 2.37.9–11, with Beck 1997: 17–18. Polybius emphasizes Achaean collective harmony with syn-compounds: 2.37.8, 38.9, 40.5–6, 41.1, 43.1; cf. 39.6 (Italiot Greeks). 83. 2.38.8, 62.4; cf. 40.1–2; on the meaning of homonoia, see Walbank HC 1.234–35 ad 2.42.6; cf. Tarn 1952: 122–25. 84. 2.50.9, with Walbank HC 1.236 ad 2.43.4, 249 ad 2.50.9; Pédech 1964: 458–59; Urban 1979: 48–54, which I cannot follow in interpreting ddikAa as directed at Antigonus’s reaction to the Achaean seizure of Acrocorinth (49). 85. See Larsen 1966: 43–45. Because of the secret nature of the negotiations, the mission could not have been on the agenda for the autumn synodos. On the procedural elasticity of Achaean synodoi, see Aymard 1938a: 352–54. 86. Plut. Phil. 12; Errington 1969: 300–301 (Table II) for the date of Lysippus’s strategeia. 87. Plut. Phil. 16; cf. Paus. 8.51.1; Errington 1969: 118–22 for analysis.

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a federal office.88 Perhaps we should not press these points too far, as these were the actions of individuals. Yet other events, clearly federal actions of the Achaean Confederation, further compromise Polybius’s collective representations. In his polemic against Phylarchus, Polybius defends the Achaean action against Mantinea in 223.89 He represents this action as the work of Aratus and the koinon, and it is clear from Polybius’s apologetics that Phylarchus had charged the Achaeans with savage lawlessness at Mantinea (56.6: dmathta . . . tpn \Axaipn). Polybius takes great pains to counter the charge. Although the Achaeans had shown great leniency when Mantinea fell into their hands in 227, the Mantineans betrayed this trust, made overtures to Cleomenes, and butchered the Achaean garrison. Polybius answers Phylarchus’s charges by stressing Mantinean treachery, stating that one could not easily find a greater and more atrocious act of faithlessness than that of the Mantineans (58.4–5: paraspandhma). He asks whether any punishment could be too severe for men who have murdered their benefactors and guardians. Wholesale slavery of the inhabitants of Mantinea would have been too light a penalty for the historian, as this is the usual fate of war captives who have perpetrated no crime of treachery. Although the Mantineans deserved a far heavier penalty, the Achaeans merely plundered the city and sold the male population into slavery (58.8–12). But here Polybius certainly compromises the image of the Achaean koinon as a smoothly functioning, disinterested polity based on law and order. He maintains that Phylarchus’s account of the Achaean treatment of Mantinea must be false, for had Mantinean savagery been the cause of the Achaean action, Tegea, taken at the same time by the Achaeans, would have suffered a similar fate (2.58.14–15). The historian gives no details on Tegean atrocities, but it is clear that Polybius viewed the murder of the Achaean garrison at Mantinea as a particularly heinous crime deserving swift and severe retribution. Nevertheless, Polybius’s comparison of the fates of Tegea and Mantinea suggests an arbitrary and inconsistent federal policy toward disaffected members. Polybius chastises Phylarchus for his sensational account of the death of Aristomachus, tyrant of Argos, at the hands of the Achaeans. Phylarchus had charged Achaea with disregard for legality, paranomAa (2.60.2). Once again Polybius emphasizes the victim’s lawlessness as justification for harsh punishment (59.4–60.3). Earlier Argive-Achaean relations would seem to compromise Achaea’s high legal principles as Polybius represents them. Aratus

88. Cf. Plut. Arat. 40 for Aratus’s extraordinary judicial authority in executing Cleomenes’ supporters at Sicyon. 89. 2.56–63, with Roveri 1964: 100–101; see also Meister 1975: 93–108.

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had attacked Aristomachus’s predecessor at Argos, Aristippus II, in time of peace, and Mantinea arbitrated, sentencing Achaea to a fine of thirty minas.90 In the Polybian account, Aristomachus had betrayed his Achaean benefactors in siding with Cleomenes. As in the case of the Mantineans, Polybius asks what punishment could possibly fit the enormity of Aristomachus’s crimes. In the historian’s judgment, Aristomachus should have been led around the Peloponnesus and tortured as a public spectacle until dead; the Achaeans did no more than to drown him off the coast of Cenchreae (60.7–9). This defense of Achaean behavior looks like special pleading. When Aristomachus joined Argos to the Achaean Confederation and was subsequently elected strategos, there apparently was no problem in Achaean circles as to his earlier career as tyrant of Argos, and there is no indication that he resumed his tyranny after Cleomenes’ seizure of Argos. Moreover, the Achaean koinon had guaranteed the personal safety of Aristomachus upon his laying down the tyranny and joining Achaea.91 In his accounts of the affair at Mantinea and the execution of Aristomachus, then, Polybius gives tendentious versions that emphasize the paranomAa of the victims of Achaean retribution and seek to preserve the Polybian image of an Achaean Confederation operating within the bounds of legality and justice. These passages are most striking when read in conjunction with Polybius’s condemnation of Philip V’s retributive act of vengeance against the Aetolians at Thermum in 218 (5.11.4–6; cf. 23.15.1–3). Polybius maintains that the Achaean Confederation brought about a likemindedness throughout the Peloponnesus. He states that the Peloponnesus has become as a single city with the same laws, weights and measures, coinage, magistrates, deliberative assemblies, and courts of justice; the Peloponnesus is, for the historian, one city save for the fact that a single wall does not enclose it.92 In Polybius’s representation, the Achaean koinon preserves the freedom and equality of each of its member states through this like-mindedness, or homonoia. Historical evidence for the individual Achaean poleis compromises Polybius’s picture.93 There is ample historical evidence for political activity of the member states independent of, and at times in opposition to, the central federal authority. During the Social War of 220–217, the western poleis of Dyme, Pharae, and Tritaea, founders of the koinon, refused to pay the federal eisphora and assembled their own mercenary force in self90. Plut. Arat. 25, with Porter 1937 ad loc., including a stemma of the Argive tyrants; for Aristomachus’s end, see Meister 1975: 101–3. 91. See Walbank HC 1.265 ad 2.59.4, 266 ad 60.4. 92. 2.37.9–11, with Larsen 1968: 219–20; Beck 1997: 17–18. 93. See Walbank HC 1.218–20 ad 2.37.10–11; Champion 1993: 92 n. 100; cf. Walbank 1985: 36 n. 103.

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defense against Aetolian raids.94 A Milesian-Magnesian treaty of ca. 185/184 strikingly demonstrates the autonomy of individual cities of the Confederation: representatives from Patrae, Megalopolis, and a third unidentified city stand beside Damoxenos, the federal representative.95 Another decree, dated to 207/206, lists the Arcadian ethnos and eighteen individual poleis, three of which are non-Arcadian (Syll.3 559, lines 60–68). Interests of the member states did indeed sometimes conflict with federal policies. In 198 the Achaean strategos Aristaenus proposed an alliance with Rome. The Dymaeans, Megalopolitans, and Argives, peoples with close ties to Macedonia, rose and left the federal assembly. Argos soon called in Philip’s general, Philocles, and Corinth also joined the Macedonian cause, resisting the Achaeans before Acrocorinth.96 In 188 Philopoemen proposed a law that would make it possible to vary the site of the Achaean synodoi; Aegium was the traditional site for these meetings. The Aegienses, who probably had grown accustomed to the economic advantages of hosting the synodoi, appealed in protest to the Roman proconsul M. Fulvius Nobilior.97 Philopoemen may have intended ultimately to transfer the synodoi to his hometown of Megalopolis. In any event, Plutarch reports that upon Philopoemen’s death, the Megalopolitans grieved for the loss of their hero, largely because they realized that with his passing they had lost their position of primacy among the Achaeans (Phil. 21). Polybius states that some cities joined Achaea voluntarily, many others were won over by reason and argument, and those forced to become members immediately became grateful recipients of Achaean egalitarianism and philanthropy (2.38.7–9: Dsathti kaB filanurvpAi). Again, historical evidence that vitiates this picture is ready to hand. Although an inscription from Orchomenus between the Achaean koinon and a new member state uses the term homologia, such concord proved in many cases to be short-lived.98 We have already considered the Mantinean rebellion some ten years after Mantinea’s entry into the Confederation, and the protest of Aegium, having joined the koinon in 275, when Philopoemen proposed the law that would have removed the Aegienses’ monopoly of hosting Achaean synodoi. Fur-

94. 2.41.12; 4.60.10, with Urban 1979: 5 (founders); 4.60.4–6 (refusal to pay eisphora); cf. 5.94.1–2 for a Patraean synteleia with its own hypostrategos. 95. Syll.3 588, lines 18–21, with Walbank 1985: 33; I follow the dating of Errington 1989a. 96. Liv. 32.22.9, 25.1–12 (Philocles); Corinth: Liv. 32.23.3–13; Paus. 7.8.2; Zonar. 9.16; App. Mac. 7. See Walbank 1970: 292 for Megalopolitan ties with Macedonia. 97. Liv. 38.30.1–5; Badian and Errington 1965: 13–17; Errington 1969: 137–38. 98. Syll.3 490, line 9 (ca. 233), with Walbank 1985: 37. The homologia, in any event, is that within Orchomenus, to be differentiated from the cafisma of the Confederation: Lehmann 1967: 115 n. 147.

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thermore, Megalopolitan “Arcadian” coin issues without federal symbol may indicate Megalopolitan disenchantment with the Confederation, as the Achaean strategos had supported Philopoemen, who dismembered Megalopolis in 193 in a political feud.99 Moreover, there is evidence for friction between Elis and the Confederation. Elis traditionally had been hostile to the Achaean koinon, but Antiochus III’s defeat at Thermopylae left them little choice but to join the Achaeans in 191.100 The desire to ensure the Eleans’ uncertain loyalties may have been the motivating force behind Achaea’s extra-Peloponnesian interest in Zacynthus, in close proximity to Elis. In any event, Achaean homonoia lapsed on the issue of Zacynthus: some Achaeans supported Flamininus’s charge of illegality on the Achaean purchase of the island.101 The histories of Messene and Sparta as member states of the Achaean koinon further compromise Polybius’s Peloponnesian homonoia as well as his statements on the freedoms of the individual members of the Confederation (2.42.6–7, 43.8–9). In 191 the Achaean strategos besieged Messene in an attempt to force the city’s entry into the Confederation. The Messenians surrendered to Rome, not Achaea, and Flamininus ordered them to restore their exiles and join the Achaean koinon (Liv. 36.31.1–10). Numismatic evidence suggests that conditions at Messene remained unsettled in the years following its incorporation.102 Sometime after spring 188 Philopoemen interfered in the internal affairs of the city by amending Flamininus’s diagramma of 191.103 In the winter of 184/183 the Messenian leader Deinocrates agitated for Messenian independence from the Confederation. An Achaean synkletos declared war on Messene in autumn 183, and Messene capitulated early in the next year. In order to ensure Messenian allegiance, the koinon exempted Messene from federal taxes for three years and, as an added precaution, reduced Messene territorially by incorporating some formerly dependent Messenian towns as independent members.104 Philopoemen brought Sparta into the Achaean koinon in autumn 192

99. Plut. Phil. 13; Errington 1969: 91; on the “Arcadian” issues, see Crosby and Grace 1936/37: 6–12; Thompson 1939: 142–44. See Dengate 1967 on “Arcadian League issues,” heavier than the Achaean federal standard. 100. Liv. 36.31.1–4; Larsen 1968: 422–23; Errington 1969: 115. 101. Liv. 36.31.10–32.9; cf. Errington 1969: 122. We do not know whether those Achaeans who favored the purchase of Zacynthus voiced their ancient claims to the island: Thuc. 2.66.1–2 refers to Zacynthus as an Achaean colony. 102. See Thompson 1939: 149. 103. 22.10.6–7. I follow the chronological reconstruction of Errington 1969: 155 n. 1; cf. Welles 1938: 255–60 on the nature of diagrammata. 104. 23.5.1–18 (Deinocrates), with Errington 1969: 183–84; 245–46 on the date; 24.9.12–13 (Achaean declaration of war); 23.16.1–13; cf. Liv. 39.50.9 (Messenian surrender); 24.2.3 (tax remission); 23.17.2, with Larsen 1968: 458–59 (separate incorporation of Messenian towns).

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(Liv. 35.37.1–3). Spartan disaffection with Achaea persisted; in 189 and again in winter 183/182, the anti-Achaean faction at Sparta was strong enough to effect Spartan secession.105 In winter 184/183 four separate groups of Spartan malcontents appealed to the Roman Senate.106 A year earlier the restored Spartan exiles Areus and Alcibiades had gone to Rome to complain of the limitations imposed by the Achaean federal mechanism, for which act the Achaeans pronounced a death sentence.107 Pausanias’s account of this embassy, derived from Polybius, reveals a curb on the freedom of individual member states: the Achaean-Roman understanding of 198 stipulated that the koinon would send representatives to Rome but that individual states were forbidden to do so. The individual states, however, repeatedly violated this clause.108 Achaea forcibly returned Sparta to the Confederation in 189. Philopoemen’s settlement of 188 showed a blatant disregard of the “ancestral freedom” of the member states: he abolished the traditional Spartan agoge and imposed the Achaean system.109 The historical records of individual poleis of the Achaean federal koinon, especially those of Messene and Sparta, invalidate Polybius’s categorical statements on Achaean collective character as reflected through the Achaean political proaAresi%. Polybius presents a simplified and schematic picture of the Achaean political principle as a deliberate, reasoned choice based on legality, equality, freedom, and collective harmony. At the base of the Achaean political principle in his representation lies the exercise of logismos, and, much like the Romans in the early books, the Achaeans here display this ultimate Hellenic virtue. And much in the same way that Roman opponents by contrast highlight Roman virtues in books 1–3, the Polybian representation of the Aetolian Confederation in Books 2, 4, and 5 sets Achaean virtues in sharp relief, exhibiting a collective character diametrically opposed to that of the Achaeans. AETOLIAN GROUP CHAR ACTER IN THE CLEOMENIC AND SOCIA L WARS

Polybius’s anti-Aetolian prejudices are well known.110 In Polybius’s eyes the keys to Aetolian character are greed, lawlessness, and the failure to subordi105. See Errington 1969: 133–47 for Philopoemen’s settlement of 188, and 297–99 for Spartan events to 178. Achaean coin hoards may reflect Spartan stasis ca. 190–80; see Crosby and Grace 1936/37: 3–4. 106. 23.4.1–6. The embassy of Serippus was pro-Achaean. 107. Liv. 39.35.5–8; cf. Plb. 22.11.8. 108. Paus. 7.9.4, 12.5; Errington 1969: 282–83 (appendix 6). 109. 2.43.8–9: patrio% DleyuerAa (“ancestral freedom”); cf. 70.1 (Sparta), 4 (Tegea), with Urban 1979: 61 on the ideological uses of the phrase; Liv. 38.34.3 (abolition of Spartan agoge). 110. See Champion 1996: 316 n. 5, 323 n. 45 for a catalogue of passages. For the evolution of the negative Aetolian stereotype, see Antonetti 1990: 45–143.

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nate individual desires to the collective good. Indeed, in the historian’s estimation Aetolian territorial aggrandizement left unchecked would be coterminous with Greece itself (2.49.3–4). Polybius’s sketch of Aetolian group character introducing the enormities of Dorimachus at Messene encapsulates his view of Aetolia: Aetolians, like beasts of prey, lead lives of greed and aggression (4.3.1). There is much in Aetolia’s history to support Polybius’s negative judgment. Aetolia pursued an expansionist policy from the early fourth century, when it was organized into a confederation based on its cantonal settlements.111 The rapid expansion of this harsh, mountainous region is remarkable.112 After the battle of Leuctra in 371, Aetolia struck an alliance with Thebes and was thereby enabled to acquire Calydon (Diod. 15.57.1, 75.2). The Aetolians occupied a portion of Acarnania in 330 and invaded Locris in 321. The venerable site of Delphi fell under Aetolian control ca. 300.113 Control of Phocis and Opuntian Locris followed around the midpoint of the third century. Aetolia defeated Boeotia ca. 245; the Boeotians soon thereafter became Aetolian allies.114 The variable site of the Panaitolika, the annual spring meeting of the primary assembly, reflects Aetolia’s aggressive policy: the meeting coincided with the opening of the military campaign season and its variable site facilitated the mobilization of the army in the current field of operations.115 At the conference of autumn 198 at Locris between Philip V of Macedonia and the Roman commander Flamininus, Polybius has Philip say that he has repeatedly attempted to persuade the Aetolians to abolish their law permitting them “to acquire booty from booty” (18.4.8: ggein lafyron dpb lafAroy). Flamininus does not understand the phrase, and Philip proceeds to explain Aetolian practice in international relations. The Aetolians, according to Philip, are accustomed to enslave the populations and plunder the countryside not only of those with whom they are at war, but also of friends and allies.116 The phrase “to acquire booty from booty” refers to the Aetolian practice of issuing letters of marque to private individuals 111. The terminus ante quem for the creation of the Aetolian koinon is 367: Tod 1948: no. 137, lines 8, 16–17, with Larsen 1955: 69; 1968: 80; cf. Beck 1997: 43–54. 112. Cf. Beck 1997: 50; on Aetolia’s rugged character: Diod. 18.24.2; Strabo 10.3.2 (C 463); Woodhouse [1897] 1973 passim; Larsen 1968: 78–79. 113. See Flacelière 1937: 42 with n. 5, 46, 57–66. 114. Aetolian territorial expansion is gauged by the increase of Aetolian Delphic hieromnemones. Flacelière 1937: 386–417 assembles Amphictyonic lists from 277 to 193/192. Boeotian defeat and subsequent Aetolian alliance: 20.4.4–5.3; Plut. Arat. 16; Larsen 1968: 206 n. 2; Urban 1979: 46 n. 203. 115. See Larsen 1952: 23–33; 1968: 199. 116. 18.5.1–3; the final lines of this passage recall Polybius’s own assessment at 4.3.1.

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for raids upon outside states, even in cases where Aetolia was formally neutral.117 Independent historical evidence supports the allegations Polybius puts into the mouth of Philip V. Aside from direct annexation, Aetolian power spread through grants of isopoliteia, a potential reciprocal citizenship between Aetolia and the subject of the grant. The status of isopoliteia enabled individuals to transfer their residence to an Aetolian community and to take up Aetolian citizenship. Individual Aetolian communities or the central federal authority could grant this potential citizenship, and the institution carried Aetolian influence far afield.118 Yet apparently more than isopoliteia was necessary in order to ensure safety against Aetolian aggression. Aetolia granted isopoliteia in conjunction with rights of asylia, guarantees of inviolability, and immunity from Aetolian privateering raids. Grants of asylia alone, however, would be of limited value, as victims of Aetolian plundering would obtain legal redress more easily if they had access to Aetolian federal courts through the additional grant of isopoliteia.119 The fact that states enjoying isopoliteia required the additional grant of asylia against Aetolian depredations confirms Polybius’s statement that the Aetolians were capable of attacking “friends.” The preceding historical sketch shows that there is much to justify Polybius’s harsh assessment of the Aetolian Confederation. Nevertheless, his strong anti-Aetolian prejudices lead to slanted interpretations. J. V. A. Fine long ago demonstrated some tendentious Polybian distortions of the 220s. From an Aetolian perspective, there was cause for concern over an apparent diminution of Aetolian power in the 220s. Aetolia had been in a position of great strength shortly after the death of the Macedonian king Demetrius II in spring 229: the Aetolians enjoyed good relations with the Peloponnesian states Elis, Messenia, and Phigalea and with the Arcadian poleis Mantinea, Orchomenus, Tegea, and Caphyae.120 Moreover, Aetolia recently had entered into an alliance with the Achaean Confederation,121 and the Aeto117. See Walbank HC 1.474 ad 4.26.7; HC 2.557 ad 18.4.8; Larsen 1937: 27 n. 34; 1968: 211–12; and now Scholten 2000: 21–22, 111–12. On Hellenistic piracy, see de Souza 1999: 43–96, and 70–76 on Aetolians. 118. E.g. Syll.3 522, with IG IX2 1.169, lines 4–5 (Ceos); IG IX2 1.173, lines 6–7 (Heraclea by Latmus); IC 2, p. 64, no. 18 (Cretan Vaxos); on Aetolian grants of isopoliteia generally, see Larsen 1968: 202–6. 119. See Walbank 1984a: 235. Examples of asylia without isopoliteia: IG IX2 1.189 (Mytilene), 192 (Teos). There are examples of the Aetolian federal executive hearing grievances from parties with asylia but lacking isopoliteia; see Larsen 1968: 210 with n. 2. In the Aegean, states that were granted asylia/isopoliteia served as Aetolian piratical bases; see Walbank 1984a: 235. On asylia, or territorial grants of inviolability, see Rigsby 1996. 120. Fine 1940; 131 n. 7 for references; cf. Urban 1979: 77 and n. 370, 85–86 and nn. 410–11. 121. 2.44.1; cf. 2.9.8–9; Plut. Arat. 34.

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lians had enjoyed the freedom of action afforded by a period of Macedonian weakness. The Achaeans had done likewise: in 229/228 Aratus had driven the last Macedonian puppet out of the Peloponnesus and seemed close to achieving complete Achaean dominance south of the Isthmus of Corinth.122 But Aetolia’s situation soon deteriorated in the wake of a strong Achaean Confederation, albeit formally an ally, and a resurgent Macedonia. In 228 the Macedonian regent Antigonus Doson invaded Doris, recovered Hestiaeotis and Thessaliotis,123 and proved himself a formidable ruler in putting down a Thessalian revolt and repelling Dardanian incursions from his northern frontier.124 The Achaean koinon by this time included Sicyon, Corinth, Megara, Argos, the Argolid and coastal cities, Aegina, and Megalopolis.125 Given Macedonian and Achaean stabilization and resurgence in the 220s, from an Aetolian perspective we might well agree with Fine that the Aetolian sphere of activity appeared to be rapidly diminishing. Two aspects of Polybius’s account deserve special attention as probable distortions of the historical record: (1) the alleged triple alliance among Aetolia, Sparta, and Macedonia aimed at the destruction of the Achaean Confederation, in Polybius’s representation an unholy alliance leading to the Cleomenic War; and (2) the Aetolian attack on Messene, in Polybius’s eyes the cause of the Social War. According to Polybius, the Aetolians, despite their formal alliance with Achaea, brought on the Cleomenic War by forging an alliance with both Sparta and Macedonia.126 In his reconstruction, the Aetolians were so eager to pit Sparta against the Achaean koinon that they were willing to overlook Cleomenes’ seizure of Tegea, Mantinea, and Orchomenus, states with some sort of understanding with the Aetolian Confederation.127 Polybius never explains why the Aetolians main122. 2.43.8–9, 44.3–45.1; Plut. Cleom. 3. Within the context of the Social War, Polybius’s text reveals that the Achaean and Macedonian mode of warfare differed little from that of the Aetolians: 5.94.9 (Achaean plunder); 5.100.8 (Philip V sells inhabitants of Phthiotic Thebes into slavery). 123. Bousquet 1988 on Doris; Walbank 1989 on the date; Fine 1932 on Hestiaeotis and Thessaliotis. 124. Thessalian revolt: Trogus, Prol. 28 S; Just. Epit. 28.3.14; defeat of Aetolians, Thessalian supporters: Front. Str. 2.6.5; for the relevance of Ptolemy III’s activities, see Flacelière 1937: 258 n. 6; Habicht 1980; cf. Urban 1979: 64 n. 302, 105–6. 125. See Fine 1940: 131–32; Urban 1979: 97 and n. 1; cf. 71–88 on Arcadia. 126. 2.45.1–2, 45.6–7; contra Pédech (1964: 155), who believes that Cleomenes was responsible for the war in Polybius’s mind. See Urban 1979: 98–116 on the triple alliance, 98–9 nn. 7–10 for modern scholarship on its historicity. Petzold 1969: 121 points out that for Polybius the triple alliance never existed; it was thwarted by Aratus’s political astuteness. But its very conception in Aetolia is a chimera. 127. 2.46.2; Larsen 1966: 51–55 argues that the sympoliteia of Aetolia and the Arcadian cities was probably an alliance and contract of isopoliteia; these cities therefore would not have been members of the Confederation, and Aetolia would have been under no obligation to come to their aid after Cleomenes’ seizure.

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tained a strict neutrality in the war he alleges they so zealously instigated; for example, in 224 they refused to allow Antigonus Doson to pass through Thermopylae (2.52.8). Moreover, the context of the passage suggests the year 228 for the alleged alliance, as it follows immediately upon the statement that Argos, Hermione, and Phlius had joined the Achaean koinon, an event that took place in 229.128 The historicity of the triple alliance is further damaged by two facts: the Aetolian-Achaean alliance was still intact in 229, and the two states took joint action against Illyria in that year.129 As late as 225/224 Aratus appealed to the Aetolians for aid, and Cleomenes’ verbal attack on the Aetolians in 227 further argues against an understanding between Aetolia and Sparta.130 For an Aetolian-Spartan alliance, there is only the weak evidence of the Spartan acquisition of the Arcadian allies of Aetolia, which the Aetolians in any event may have been powerless to prevent.131 Polybius also alleges that Macedonia took part in this alliance. There is no evidence that Antigonus Doson was hostile to the Achaean Confederation on account of Aratus’s seizure of Acrocorinth some fifteen years before.132 Moreover, Polybius’s report of Aratus’s Megalopolitan embassy to Doson mentions only a possible alliance between Aetolia and Sparta; there is no hint of Macedonian participation (2.47–49). Polybius also adds that Aratus sent this embassy in anticipation of the Aetolians (47.4–5), but it is unlikely that Aetolia would have approached Doson, having been recently defeated at his hands.133 Furthermore, Doson’s rescue of the Achaeans at Sellasia in 222 is damaging to the historical credibility of this alleged triple pact. In the Polybian account, credit for the victory goes to the Achaean hero Philopoemen, and Polybius further glosses over the Macedonian role by pointing to the personal qualities of Aratus in order to explain the failure of the putative short-lived alliance.134 This passage suggests the influence of Aratus’s

128. 2.44.6. Antigonus Doson also is in firm control of Macedonia at this time, probably after his recovery of Phthiotis, Thessaliotis, and Hestiaeotis from Aetolia in summer 228/227, an action that itself argues against the alleged alliance; see Fine 1940: 132–33; Walbank HC 1.240–41 ad 2.45.2. 129. Cf. Holleaux 1952: 15: the joint Aetolian-Achaean expedition to Corcyra (2.9.9) may be a fictitious duplication of the aid to Epirus (2.6.1–8). 130. Plut. Arat. 41; Cleom. 10; Walbank HC 1.239 ad 2.45.1. 131. See Fine 1940: 131, 138; Walbank HC 1.243 ad 2.46.3; Urban 1979: 105–7. 132. See Walbank HC 1.241 ad 2.45.3–4; Petzold 1969: 111–12; Urban 1979: 101–2. 133. See Fine 1932: 140–3; Walbank 1989: 186 suggests that an Aetolian-Macedonian peace may have been concluded before Doson’s Carian expedition of 227, but cessation of hostilities is a far different matter than a cooperative offensive. 134. 2.45.5–7, with Urban 1979: 100 (Aratus); 2.67.4–68.3, 69.1–3 (Philopoemen). At 9.36.3–5, the Acarnanian ambassador Lyciscus at Sparta in 210, stressing Macedonian benefactions to Sparta, gives Doson full credit for the victory at Sellasia.

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Memoirs,135 but regardless of the degree to which Polybius was here indebted to that lost work, the fact remains that he has chosen to represent the Aetolians as the diabolical element in an alliance of doubtful historicity.136 The Social War began in 220 when the allied council at Corinth voted for war against Aetolia. The war declaration, Polybius adds, was just and timely in light of the Aetolian atrocities, with those at Messene being most egregious and the key to the outbreak of war (4.26.1–2). Once again an Aetolian perspective would produce a somewhat different picture. A long-standing ally of the Aetolian Confederation, Messene threatened to undermine the Aetolian position in the Peloponnesus by joining Antigonus Doson’s Hellenic League.137 This would leave the Eleans and Phigaleans as the only Aetolian allies south of the Isthmus of Corinth, since the four Arcadian cities Tegea, Orchomenus, Mantinea, and Caphyae had passed to Sparta in 229.138 A rupture between Aetolia and the traditionally anti-Spartan Messene would appear to have been inevitable once the former began intriguing with Sparta after Doson’s death. The Messenian approach to Macedonia and Achaea was the logical consequence of this rupture, but the Aetolians were unwilling to countenance a further diminution of their Peloponnesian influence.139 From this Aetolian viewpoint, Aetolia moved against Messene in an attempt to secure a vital interest south of the Isthmus. Polybius gives three reasons for Aetolian actions in the Peloponnesus in 221: (1) the degenerate character of the Aetolians (4.3.1–3); (2) the military negligence of the Achaeans after Sellasia (4.7.6–7; cf. Plut. Arat. 47); and (3) the youth of the Macedonian king Philip V (4.3.3, 5.3). In Polybius’s estimation, the latter two factors meant that the Aetolians could safely look out for pretexts to meddle in the Peloponnesus. On his account, then, the true causes of the Social War were the Aetolians’ dissatisfaction with the state of peace and their subhuman drives and aggression. A personal insult spurred Dorimachus to attack Messene, and he won over his Aetolian compatriots by appealing to the innate Aetolian greed for plunder.140 The insidious charac-

135. Cf. 2.56.2; Larsen 1968: 314; Urban 1979: 100 n. 16 for further scholarly opinions. On Polybius’s independence from Aratus’s Memoirs, see Pédech 1964: 156 n. 288; Larsen 1966; Gruen 1972: 617–20. 136. DeLaix 1969 argues for an alliance ending by summer 228/227, but concedes that we need not accept Polybius’s alleged motivation. 137. 4.6.11 for the Aetolian-Messenian connection; cf. Syll.3 472 (Phigalea and Messene, ca. 240); Walbank 1936: 68 with nn. 30–31; 4.5.8–9 for the Messenian inclination to join the Hellenic League. 138. 4.3.6–7 (Phigalea); 5.4 (Elis); cf. Urban 1979: 168–74 on the Arcadian cities. 139. The Aetolian-Messenian alliance was in effect in 221: 4.3.9–10, 6.11, 15.10, with Fine 1940: 154. Although the prevailing party at Messene in 221 was pro-Achaean, the Messenians remained neutral in the Social War; see Walbank 1933: 125. 140. 4.5.5–6; see Flacelière 1937: 288 for a refutation of Polybius’s casus belli.

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ter of the Aetolians plays a dominant role in the events of the 220s in the Polybian representation, from the unlikely triple alliance of ca. 228 to the Aetolian intervention at Messene at the end of the decade. By the time the reader reaches the allied council of 220 at Corinth (4.25), Polybius has made the choice an easy one in the assignation of blame for the outbreak of hostilities. In books 2, 4, and 5, Polybius strives to present Achaean and Aetolian group characters as exact opposites. His representations distort the historical record. Achaeans respect law, they are committed to the principles of equality and freedom, and Achaea is a model of collective harmony and balance. Underlying these admirable qualities is the exercise of Hellenic rationality. Aetolians, in sharp contrast, are rapacious criminals, they are faithful only to their individual drives and passions, and they are incapable of harnessing their individual desires to the collective good.141 Their deplorable state, it hardly needs to be stated, exhibits many of the hallmarks of Polybian barbarians. Polybius’s portrayal of the Achaean Aratus and the Aetolian Dorimachus further supports these representations of Achaean and Aetolian collective group characters. AR ATUS AND DORIMACHUS: ACHAEAN AND AETOLIAN COLLECTIV E GROUP CHAR ACTERS

In his assessment of the characters of Aratus and Demetrius of Pharos in book 5, Polybius states that the tenor of Aratus’s life showed neither rashness nor lack of judgment (5.12.7–8). Yet in the account of the outbreak of war between Achaea and Aetolia in 220, Aratus harbors a personal resentment against Aetolia and hastens the war by taking the public seal of Achaean strategos five days before his term of office began (4.7.8–10; cf. 14.3). At this point Polybius pauses to summarize Aratus’s character. According to the historian, Aratus excelled as an acute political observer, powerful orator, and public relations man. In the military sphere, he was a master of the coup de main and the element of surprise (8.1–4). In the open field, however, Aratus’s performance was contemptible. Consequences of his military inadequacies were often disastrous (8.5–7). Polybius stresses Aratus’s military ineptitude in the Achaean disaster at Caphyae in summer 220.142 Aratus dismissed his Achaean and Spartan forces while the Aetolians Dorimachus and Scopas remained in the Peloponnesus. He took this action on the foolish assumption that the Aetolians would return home from Messene as they had indicated. The Achaean leaders’ mis141. Cf. 18.22.5–6 (Cynoscephalae): Aetolians best at individual cavalry skirmishing, but deficient in collective infantry formations; Rigsby 1996: 17 (on Polybius’s anti-Aetolian prejudices). 142. See Walbank 1984b: 473–81; Scholten 2000: 200–228 for concise accounts of the Social War.

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management at Caphyae, according to the historian, was the very height of stupidity. Aratus should have attacked the Aetolians on level ground, where the Achaeans are at their best. Aratus and the Achaean leaders further blundered in the actual conduct of the battle (4.10.1–12.4). Polybius summarizes Aratus’s errors in his account of the Achaean synodos of summer 220 (14.1–8). In Polybius’s representation, Aratus bears responsibility for Achaean failures in the opening stages of the Social War. Polybius underscores the importance of the individual in historical events in his consideration of Aratus. He reflects upon the many-faceted character of one and the same man. Not only may the same man have talent in some areas and none whatsoever in others, but he may alternately perform with intelligence and bravery or stupidity and cowardice in like pursuits. The cause is humankind’s multiform nature.143 Polybius offers these observations in order to ensure the trust of his readers, should they encounter contradictions in the behaviors of individuals in the Histories. This digression serves to focus the reader’s attention on Aratus’s individual responsibility for Achaea’s misfortunes. Polybius makes his point on individual natures with the analogy of inconsistencies in military collective group characters. The Achaeans are at their best in frontal encounters in the open field, but they are deficient in ambuscades, piratical activities, theft from the enemy, and night attacks; in short, they fail at operations requiring fraud and deception. These Achaean collective qualities are diametrically opposed to Aratus’s strengths and weaknesses. Here the historian isolates the individual from the group, and helps to preserve his image of Achaean collective group character.144 In Polybius’s account the Aetolian Dorimachus began the Social War because of a personal insult from the Messenian Scyron (4.4.9; cf. 5.2–3). Polybius prefaces his introduction of Dorimachus with a sketch of Aetolian character. An innate covetousness drives the Aetolians, and they lead lives of greed and beastly aggression. Dorimachus’s exploits at Messene were but a pretext for putting Aetolian plans into action (4.3.1–4). He serves in fact as an illustration of Aetolian collective group character: the fact that he was an Aetolian seems to explain his actions (3.5: plarh% ADtvlikp% crmp% kaB pleonejAa%). The Messenians held grievances against Aetolia for Dorimachus’s plundering activities, and an exasperated Dorimachus flew into an impassioned outburst in which he threatened the Messenians with Aetolian power, reminding them that they were not opposing himself alone, but rather the entire Aetolian Confederation (3.12, 4.4). 143. See Treu 1954/55: 224; Walbank 1972: 95–96; Eckstein 1995b: 115 and n. 113, 240 and n. 9; Champion 1997a: 122–23; cf. 23.5.4–9 (Deinocrates of Messene). 144. 4.8.1–12; cf. 1.43.2–8 (Alexon); 2.10.5–6 (Margos) for cases of individual behavior affirming Achaean group character. On Aratus’s military skills in fraud and deception, cf. Plut. Arat. 7–10, 21–23; Niccolo Machiavelli, Discorsi 2.32.1.

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Of course the idea of Dorimachus as an illustration of Aetolian collective group character is itself something of an oxymoron, as in the Polybian representation the greed and passion of individuals exemplify the Aetolian character. In his raids on Messene, Dorimachus is concerned with personal gain (4.3.11–12). The pleonejAa driving Dorimachus also wins over his compatriot Scopas to a policy of aggression against Messene. And as we should expect of Polybius’s Aetolians, those back home in Aetolia would respond to the rewards of privately motivated aggression (5.5–7). In sum, although the affair of Dorimachus at Messene represents a case of self-centered enormities, Polybius firmly places Dorimachus’s activities within the context of Aetolian collective group character. Dorimachus’s actions at Messene show that character in action; Polybius describes his actions as those of the Aetolian koinon; and the prospect of plunder motivating Dorimachus pushed his Messenian policy through at home. In his treatment of Aratus and Dorimachus, then, Polybius employs individuals to serve his image of Achaean and Aetolian collective group characters. In the case of Aratus, the focus is upon the individual and his weaknesses and idiosyncrasies. Aratus, as a scapegoat for the group, serves to direct attention away from Achaean military weaknesses and failures. In the case of Dorimachus, the individual underscores the character of the ethnic-cultural group and illustrates Aetolian pleonejAa.

Parallels: Rome (Books 1–3) and Achaea (Books 2, 4, and 5) Polybius’s comparative method often develops parallels between historical events,145 and his apodeictic method often simplifies historical phenomena by likening the unknown and unfamiliar to the known and familiar.146 The opening of the Histories provides an example in the parallel fates of the cities on the straits of Messana (1.7.1–2). Polybius punctuates the so-called Achaean prokataskeue (2.37–71) at beginning and end with the parallel phenomenon of the simultaneous deaths of three monarchs.147 He explains unknown geographical locations by making comparisons and drawing parallels with places known to his Greek readership.148 A distinct parallelism emerges in consideration of the collective group characters of Rome and Achaea in the first five books. Generally,

145. See Pédech 1964: 405–31; Petzold 1969: 34–90. 146. E.g., 6.3.5–10.14, 11.1–18.9, with Petzold 1969: 67–68; cf. Pédech 1964: 402. 147. 2.41.2 (Olympiad 124: Ptolemy Lagus, Seleucus I Nicator, Lysimachus, as well as Ptolemy Ceraunus); 70.6–7, 71.3–6 (Olympiad 139: Antigonus Doson, Ptolemy III Euergetes I, Seleucus III Soter). 148. E.g., 5.21.5–6; cf. 3.36.1–39.1.

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Roman and Achaean successes are grounded in the exercise of the Hellenic virtue of rationality. The failings of Roman opponents and of Aetolia in these books underscore Roman and Achaean virtues, respectively, and among these peoples we find the barbarous reign of passion and impulse over reason.149 Books 1, 2, and 4 are particularly important for Polybius’s parallels between Rome and Achaea. At the opening of the Histories, Polybius stresses the unexpectedness of Rome’s acquisition of world power (1.1.4, 2.1). Similarly, at the opening of the Achaean prokataskeue, he emphasizes the surprising advance of the Achaean Confederation.150 In book 2 the historian underscores this parallel rise of Rome and Achaea.151 Book 4 opens with the striking growth of the Achaean koinon (4.1.4: paradojon DpAdosin), again recalling the great Roman advance at 1.1.4 (paradojon). Polybius engages in discursive accounts of early Roman and Achaean history going back beyond his stated starting points: 1.6 sketches Roman history from the Gallic sack of the city in the early fourth century; 2.41 pans back to mythological time and the first Achaean king, Tisamenes, son of Orestes, and jumps ahead to the age of Philip II and Alexander before returning to the 124th Olympiad. Furthermore, the structural parallels in the narratives of the origins of Roman and Achaean power are striking: Polybius gives the first actions or the first agents in the rise to power, his methodological procedure, and the reason for his digressions (1.12.5–7; 2.42.1–4). The sketches of both early Roman and Achaean history include criticism of earlier historians who have treated these periods,152 and both link the political principles of these polities and the historical agents who fulfilled them.153 These structural parallels in Polybius’s narrative serve as clear signposts linking the fates of Rome and Achaea. Of course there were vast differences in the actual powers of the two states; indeed, F. W. Walbank has suggested that, in the desire to avoid explicit and potentially embarrassing comparisons between Achaea and Rome, Polybius omitted the Achaean Confederation in his analysis of politeiai in book 6.154 It is true that Polybius does not develop the parallels between 149. On Achaean-Roman parallelisms, see Petzold 1969 passim, esp. 27, 34–40, 51–52. 150. 2.37.8. Gelzer 1964b views the Achaean prokataskeue as an earlier composition with a narrow Achaean perspective; cf. Gelzer 1964a: 123–27; Petzold 1969: 97; Deininger 1971: 6 n. 21. According to Gelzer, 2.37 and the parAkbasi% at 1.12.5–15.13 are rough attempts to integrate the monograph into the main work. In any event Polybius has reworked the Achaean prokataskeue for the Histories; see Champion 1996: 325–26 and nn. 51–53; cf. Treu 1954/55 on the Achaean prokataskeue in the original plan of the work. 151. 2.2.2 (Rome): aGjhsi% kaB kataskeya (“growth and preparation”); 45.1 (Achaea): aGjhsi% kaB prokopa (“growth and advance”). 152. 1.14.1–15.13 (Philinus and Fabius Pictor); 2.56.1–63.6 (Phylarchus). 153. 1.64.5–6 (Rome); 2.37.7–40.6 (Achaea), with Treu 1954/55: 224. 154. Walbank 1985: 296.

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Rome and Achaea expressis verbis.155 Yet a comparison of Rome and Achaea in Polybius’s representation reveals substantive, as well as narrative-structural, parallels. Political institutions and social practices, as we have seen, are for Polybius the most important determinants of collective group characteristics. These institutions in Polybius’s account shaped both Roman and Achaean character, although the Roman politeia evolved through trial and error, whereas the Achaean political proaAresi% informing Achaean institutional structures was always present.156 More important than this distinction, however, is the fact that in books 1–5 both Rome and Achaea are grounded in “Hellenic” rational principles, in stark contrast to their enemies, among whom impulse and irrational drives predominate. Polybius underscores this crucial contrast in the transitional passage from Roman affairs to the Achaean prokataskeue.157 The Roman victory over the Gauls is an object lesson in the superiority of reason over passion. The account of this war will be useful for future generations in the face of barbarian invasions, and in a remarkable exercise in the politics of cultural assimilation of Romans to Hellenism, Polybius links this war with great exploits in Greek history. In these Greek victories over the barbarian, the Greeks fought to preserve the common liberty of Hellas, foreshadowing the constant purpose of the Achaean Confederation. Both Romans and Greeks, therefore, have demonstrated the great achievements possible for men who conduct themselves according to the rules of logic and reason. Chapter 35 of book 2, then, develops the general Polybian contrast between Hellenic logismos and barbarian thumos and implicitly includes Rome as a partaker of Greek rationality. Polybius’s historical narrative of Roman and Achaean affairs in books 1–5 bears out the gnomic reflections in this chapter: the exercise of a balanced rationality generally informs Roman and Achaean actions, whereas unreflecting impulse characterizes Roman enemies and the Aetolian Confederation. Recapitulation and juxtaposition of key passages will serve to make the point. Polybius details the reasoning process of the Senate prior to the first Roman overseas crossing (1.10.3–11.1); in the face of the Gallic threat of the 220s, the Romans observed the Gauls in battle and made necessary adjustments in battle strategy (2.33.2–4); and Rome’s rational deliberations were responsible for the defeat of Hannibal and acquisition of empire (3.118.9; cf. 85.9–10). We have seen that for Polybius the Achaean political proaAresi% is based upon rea155. See Petzold 1969: 51–52; 25–128, esp. 92–93, on Polybian differences between Rome and Achaea: Rome is built on military power; Achaea on ethical principles; for criticism, Walbank 1972: 167; 1985: 282, 292, 296. 156. 6.10.14 (Rome); 2.42.3 (Achaea). 157. 2.35.2–10, with Champion 1996: 324–28.

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son. Achaeans do not lose their rational faculties even in the most parlous of times, as in the aftermath of Cleomenes’ seizure of Megalopolis in autumn 223.158 In contrast, unbridled passions and irrationality drive Roman enemies and the Aetolians in books 1–5. The Illyrians Teuta and Demetrius of Pharos exhibited dlogAa in their relations with Rome (2.8.12; 3.19.9–10). Polybius describes the Gauls as being filled with an irrational spirit (2.21.2–3, 35.3–4), and we have seen the stress on the irrational and passionate “wrath of the Barcids” in Polybius’s account of the outbreak of the Hannibalic War. Dorimachus displayed Aetolian unreasoning greed in his tirade before the Messenians (4.3.5). Theodotus’s attempt on the life of Ptolemy Philopator shortly before the battle at Raphia was typically Aetolian: he failed because of a lack of pranoia, or foresight (5.81.1–7). Aetolian irrationality was at work in the course of the Social War. Aetolia rushed into the war without observing any of its own constitutional procedures but refused a conference with Philip V on the grounds that Aetolia could take no official action before the annual federal meeting of the Thermika (4.5.9–10, 26.6–7). In summer 220 the Aetolians voted to remain at peace with the Achaean Confederation, provided that the Achaeans renounced their alliance with Messene. Polybius points out that as the Aetolians at this time were allied with both Achaea and Messene, their demand defies any attempt at rational explanation (4.15.8–11). During the war, Scopas pillaged the sanctuary of Zeus at Dium and the Aetolian government honored him for this sacrilege, as he thereby filled his compatriots with empty hopes and irrational expectations.159 As a consequence of the rule of reason in Rome and Achaea, these politeiai exhibit a concern for legality and justice, whereas lawlessness and aggression are the marks of Roman and Achaean enemies. We have seen the Romans agonizing over the morality of sending aid to the Mamertines, and in Polybius’s account the Romans immediately declare war after the Carthaginian injustice at Saguntum (3.20.6–7). This Roman respect for justice is set in sharp relief by the treachery of Illyrians and Gauls. Likewise, we have seen that Polybius’s narrative of the Social War juxtaposes Achaean legality and just action to Aetolian lawlessness. The Achaeans’ reputation for fair dealing led the Spartans and Thebans to select them as arbiters after Leuctra (2.39.8–10); and Polybius emphasizes the legality of Achaean actions in the approach to Doson, Achaean relations with Messene, and the proceedings at the council at Corinth. In the historian’s eyes, Aetolian lawless158. 5.93.3–4; cf. 11.14.3–7: Achaean reasoning capability prevailing over the folly of Machanidas. 159. 4.62.4–5; cf. Dorimachus’s impieties at Dodona at 4.67.3–4.

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ness caused the Social War, and formal alliances have no validity among Aetolians. In short, in books 1–5 Romans and Achaeans emerge as the defenders of right; Roman enemies and Aetolians are aggressors who disregard the common laws of humanity.160 Yet beyond this generalization, we find more specific parallels among Rome and Achaea and their foes. Autarky, or at least the desire for self-sufficiency, characterizes both Rome and Achaea in books 1–5, whereas Roman enemies and the Aetolians rely upon others. Roman resolve underwent the severest of trials in the First Romano-Carthaginian War: the Romans lost and rebuilt fleets; their treasury was exhausted; and they went on fighting by means of their redoubtable spirit (1.59.6). Polybius points out the contrast between Roman autonomy and Carthaginian dependency, remarking on the superiority of the Roman citizen-soldier over the Carthaginian mercenary (1.64.6; cf. 6.52.4–10). While he notes Achaean military negligence after Sellasia (4.7.7–8), in his account the Achaeans have engaged in a constant struggle to realize their political goals.161 As we have seen, Achaea resolved to stand alone against Cleomenes, provided that the Aetolians stayed out of the conflict. Autarky certainly was evident in Philopoemen’s independent action at Sellasia, and the Achaeans, according to the historian, are at their best in the open field of battle, without the support of ruses or ambuscades. The opponents of these two politeiai provide a stark contrast in books 1–5. In the First Romano-Carthaginian War, Carthage relied upon the produce of the countryside, the tribute payments from Libya for military preparations, and mercenaries for the actual conduct of war (1.71.1–2). The Illyrian dynast Agron had acted as a mercenary (2.2.5), whereas his wife and successor, Teuta, encouraged her subjects to prey upon trading vessels in the Adriatic (2.4.9–5.1, 8.1–3). In Polybius’s estimation Gauls are accustomed to live from plundering their neighbors (2.19.4), while Aetolia instigated the Social War because of dissatisfaction with the state of peace, which deprived Aetolians of prospects for plunder (4.3.1–2). Romans and Achaeans exhibit temperance in the Polybian narrative of books 1–5; Roman enemies and Aetolians a grasping excess, pleonejAa. After the decisive Roman victory at Telamon in 225, the Roman commander returned the recovered spoils from the Gauls to the rightful owners (2.31.3–4); Polybius remarks in book 6 that the Romans despise profits acquired by unscrupulous means (6.56.3–4). Likewise, private advantage is not an Achaean concern (2.42.5–6), and the Achaeans unified the Pelopon160. See Champion 1993: 118 n. 222 for passages; cf. Ferrary 1988: 406–7 and nn. 42–47. 161. 2.41.6–7, 44.2–3, 47.1 (Achaeans stand alone against Cleomenes), 50.11–51.2 (Aratus before the synodos of spring 226), 53.1–4 (Achaean resiliency in the Cleomenic War); 4.15.5 (Achaeans remain undaunted after the disaster at Caphyae); 5.93.3–4 (Megalopolitan resolve).

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nesus because they fought not for their own advantage, but rather for the common good of all (2.37.9–10). The Achaean leniency at Mantinea in 227 demonstrated that Achaeans do not covet others’ possessions (2.57.3–58.1), and the Achaeans demanded nothing from their allies other than Peloponnesian freedom (2.42.5–7, 43.8–9). Once again we find Roman enemies and Aetolians in diametrical opposition to these qualities. Polybius notes that in contrast to Romans, the Carthaginians regard any means of acquiring wealth as honorable.162 Greed drove the actions of the Illyrian rulers Agron and Teuta (2.2.5, 8.4–5), and pleonejAa directed the movements of the Gauls.163 As we have seen, the limitless greed driving the enemies of Rome also animated the Aetolians. Such qualities as a respect for law, autarky, and temperance, grounded in rational principles, paideia, and good governmental institutions, enabled Romans and Achaeans to put the communal good before individual interests and to undertake sustained collective action. We have seen that Polybius stresses Rome’s communal spirit in his accounts of the First RomanoCarthaginian and Hannibalic wars. In his account of the Social War, the historian sings the praises of communal values and collective capabilities. The Achaeans, committed to the common weal, displayed self-sacrifice in the Cleomenic War (2.58.2–3, 61.10–11), and Polybius repeatedly stresses Achaean harmony and community. The primacy of individuals and separatist interests among Roman antagonists and Aetolians preclude such collective capability. Polybius contrasts Roman communal values and Illyrian selfishness in the interview between Coruncanius and Teuta (2.8.8–11). The disintegrating force of individual greed destroyed the Gauls (2.19.3–4, 21.6–7). In the First RomanoCarthaginian War, the Carthaginians’ mercenary camp at Sicca was a scene of tumult and discordance (1.67.3). In the military sphere, Aetolians do not fare well in organized companies; rather, they are at their best when dispersed in single combat (4.8.10–11). In spring 219, the Aetolians gained possession of Aegeira on the Gulf of Corinth in a surprise attack. Guided by their passion for plunder, they soon dispersed, leaving themselves vulnerable to a counterattack. The beleaguered Aegeiratans rallied and put them to flight (4.57.2–58.12). The ephemeral Aetolian-Illyrian alliance of summer 220 further illustrates such incapability of sustained, cooperative action. Polybius prefaces his account with a remark on both Aetolians and Illyrians as treaty breakers. The Illyrian Scerdilaidas came to terms with Aetolia for a joint plundering expedition against Achaea (4.15.2–17.1). The Aetolians, however, proved to be incapable of honoring their commitment, as they hoarded booty from Cynaetha, thereby alienating their erstwhile ally. Poly162. 6.56.1–3, with Petzold 1969: 79–80. 163. 2.17.3–4, 22.2–3; 3.51.2–3, 78.5.

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bius notes that such perfidy is characteristic of tribes of reckless criminals and thieves (4.29.4–7).

Romans and Achaeans in books 1–5 are exemplars of what I have called the Hellenic virtues. They are practitioners of logismos. In them the reader sees the type of ideal community presented in abstract terms in book 6 translated into historical action. In their exercise of rationality and through excellent political and social institutions, Rome and Achaea managed to place the good of the community before the interest of the individual. Roman virtue is well illustrated in Polybius’s account of the First Romano-Carthaginian War, when the Romans encountered in Carthage a worthy opponent at the top of its form. Yet even here the juxtaposition of Rome and its adversary underscores a Roman strength: the superiority of Roman self-reliance over Carthaginian dependence. Generally, the enemies of Rome and Achaea in these books serve as foils to Roman and Achaean political virtue. In them we find that thumos prevails over logismos, and in the cases of Illyrians, Gauls, and Aetolians, individual drives tear apart the social fabric, rendering sustained communal effort an impossibility. As we have seen in chapter 2, according to the cultural politics of Hellenism, measured, rational behavior is the true mark of Hellenism, whereas illogicality and unbridled passions animate the barbarian. Reading books 1–5 in terms of this cultural politics, we may therefore make the valid generalization that the historian’s Hellenic-barbarian continuum provides a blueprint for his historical narrative in these books.

Chapter 5

Metabole Politeion Roman and Achaean Degeneration in the Fragmentary Books Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold. william b. yeats, “The Second Coming”

This chapter studies Polybius’s collective representations in the fragmentary text following book 6. Enough remains of these books to give a fair idea of the contours of Polybius’s narrative with regard to the historian’s representations of Roman and Achaean collective group characters.1 Fortunately, the predilections of Polybius’s excerptors are an aid to this enterprise. Among the fifty-three titles into which the excerpts were divided, only six survive. Yet these include fragments on virtues and vices, on gnomic reflections, and on treachery.2 Consequently, the fragmentary books are rich in material relevant to questions of the historian’s moral outlook in general and his depiction of Roman and Achaean collective group characters in particular. Rather than attempt to discuss every fragment, many of which are simply too brief to provide much of a context and do not permit insights into Polybius’s collective representations, while others treat of subjects that are of little use for the objectives of this study, I have selected passages for analysis that highlight the course of Roman and Achaean collective behaviors. In terms of textual transmission, books 7–18 comprise a unit of Polybius’s historical narrative, as we possess these fragments through the Excerpta Antiqua, as well as through the so-called Constantinian excerpts.3 Beyond book 18 we rely for the most part upon the Constantinian fragments alone. The second volume of Walbank’s Commentary, therefore, treats books 7–18 as a unit. Regarding the theme of Roman decline, however, Polybius provides a rationale for studying the fragmentary books according to a different structure. The historian unequivocally states that the Roman politeia one day will 1. For the arrangement of the fragments, see Walbank HC 2.1–28 and 3.1–62. 2. See Moore 1965: 125–67. 3. Moore 1965: 53–124.

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decline (6.9.12–14; cf. 6.51.4–5, 57.1–10), and he also states that Rome had reached its peak during the Hannibalic War (6.11.1–2, 51.5–8). We might expect, then, to find Roman collective group character in an optimal state in the historical narrative down to the battle at Zama and the conclusion of peace with Carthage, as well as signs of Roman degeneration in the times that followed. Books 7–15 bring the narrative down to this point in time and therefore comprise the first unit of analysis. In his famous second preface, Polybius gives his reasons for extending the scope of the work, stating that consideration of the period from the Roman victory at Pydna down to the Roman destruction of Carthage and Corinth in 146 enables the reader to decide whether the Roman empire is acceptable or not, and future generations to judge whether it is worthy of praise or blame. Pydna, according to Polybius, was a historical watershed; Roman power was thereafter absolute throughout the oikoumene (3.4.1–8). Following the historian’s cue, we may take as the second unit of analysis the period from the conclusion of the Hannibalic War down to the climactic Roman victory over Macedonia at Pydna and its immediate aftermath, recounted in book 29. Books 16–29 comprise this narrative.4 The final unit, then, is the extension of the work from books 30–39, covering the period from Pydna to the catastrophic year 146.5 Yet it is indeed difficult to fix the onset of Roman degeneration within these large units. For example, even within our first unit of analysis Polybius foreshadows decay of Roman moral values in stating that in his own times there has been a nearly universal degeneration in the conduct of warfare, with the Romans alone preserving mere vestiges of moral uprightness (13.3.6–8; cf. 18.34.1–8, 36.9.9–10). Later he states that after the embassy of Callicrates of Leontium to the Roman Senate in 180, evils befell Greece, as the sycophant Callicrates convinced the senators to support the staunchly pro-Roman group in Achaea who were ready to disregard questions of Achaean legalities and proper federal procedures in order to do Rome’s bidding (24.8.1–10.15). In the period before Pydna, therefore, the historian has provided historical markers for degeneration in Roman foreign diplomacy. As we know from a passage in Livy derived from Polybius, this degeneration afterwards revealed itself in the Machiavellian policy of Q. Marcius Philippus.6 The period after Pydna was a disturbed and troubled time in Polybius’s account, and it is difficult to

4. This assumes that the concluding table of contents (the lost book 40 of the forty-book edition) stood as book 30 in the thirty-book edition; see Walbank 1985: 325. 5. Book 40 apparently was a summary of contents. See Walbank 1985: 325–26 for comment on uncertainties of the evolution of the forty-book edition. 6. Liv. (P) 42.43.1–3, 47.1–12; cf. Plb. 27.1.1–2.12, with Nissen 1863: 252; Briscoe 1964; Rich 1976: 88–99; Tränkle 1977: 133–34; Eckstein 1995b: 108–9; see now Petzold (1999), who sees Philippus’s machinations behind the infamous embassy of Callicrates.

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be certain of the stages of societal degeneration here not only because of the fragmentary state of these books, but also because of the tenor of the times they relate.7 Consequently, although suggested by the structure Polybius imposes upon his work, our three broad units of analysis can serve only as rough guides in tracking Roman collective group character. There is ambiguity here, and I argue in chapters 6 and 7 that this ambiguity concerning the onset of Roman collective degeneration is part of Polybius’s politically motivated narrative strategy.

Virtue in Decadent Times: Scipio and Philopoemen (Books 7–15) The representation of moral degeneration and “barbarous” behavior serves almost as a leitmotiv for the extant chapters of books 7–15. Book 7 opens with an account of Capua’s defection to Hannibal in the aftermath of Cannae. Giving themselves over to luxury and extravagance the Capuans surpassed even the excesses of the Sodom and Gomorrah of Greek antiquity, Sybaris and Croton. In this emasculated state, the Capuans handed themselves over to Hannibal, as they were unable “to support the burden of their prosperity.” Capua was to suffer condign punishment for its defection at the hands of the Romans.8 The theme of Greek decadence continues in Polybius’s remarks on the corruption at Tarentum. A haughty pride, induced by the Tarentines’ wealth, caused them to call King Pyrrhus of Epirus into Italy. Tarentum conforms in this passage to Polybius’s typology for the degenerate democratic polity: corrupted by their own power, the Tarentines were in search of a master, only to be dissatisfied once they found one.9 Polybius returns to the image of corruption arising from opulence even in the most parlous of times in his account of Marcellus’s capture of Syracuse. The Roman commander learned from a deserter that for three days the Syracusans under siege had been celebrating a festival in honor of Artemis. The city was on food rations, but there was an abundance of wine. Marcellus reasoned that, with the Syracusans being for the most part in a drunken state, the time was ripe for a major assault on the city where the defensive walls were lowest. Just as Marcellus had estimated, the scaling party found empty sentry posts and guards collected in towers, some drinking, others asleep in a drunken stupor. The Romans slaugh7. 3.4.12–13, with Walbank 1972: 29–30; 1985: 293, 332–34, 342; cf. the polemic against Walbank of Shimron 1979/80 concerning the onset of the “time of troubles.” 8. 7.1.1–2; on Sybaris and Croton, see Walbank HC 2.29–30 ad 7.1.1. Liv. 26.14.6–16.13, 33.1–34.13 on the Roman punishment, with Toynbee 1965: 2.121–28 for Roman motivations in the relatively light treatment of Capua. 9. 8.24.1–3; cf. 6.9.1–9 for the degeneration of the simple constitutional form of democracy.

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tered these and admitted Marcellus and his army through the postern gate.10 Roman collective integrity stands out in sharp relief among indications of Greek degeneracy in these books. In his portrait of the senseless depravity of the Syracusan ruler Hieronymus, Polybius points out the courtesy and rectitude of the Roman embassy sent out to Syracuse upon the death of Hiero II. The Roman praetor sent envoys to Hieronymus in order to renew the Romano-Syracusan treaty. Roman legates explained to an antagonistic Hieronymus that a Roman squadron had sailed from Lilybaeum as far as Pachynum upon an earlier false report of Hiero’s death in order to ensure a stable transfer of power to Hieronymus. Upon receiving an insulting retort from Hieronymus in which the young ruler bluntly stated his intention of going over to the Carthaginians, the envoys held their silence and reported back to the praetor (7.3.1–9; cf. 5.1–2). In 210 the Roman proconsul P. Sulpicius Galba further demonstrated Roman moral virtue in international affairs in his leniency toward Aegina; his philanthropy, so he claimed, was for the sake of the other Greeks (9.42.5–8). In book 8 Polybius reiterates the high level of preparedness of both Rome and Carthage in the Hannibalic War. Here we are reminded of the prime causal determinant in Polybius’s thought for the excellences of the combatants, the nature and structure of their politeiai (8.1.1–2). Following the pattern that has emerged from our analysis of books 1–5, Roman enemies provide a stark contrast to Roman probity. In 212 the proconsul Ti. Sempronius Gracchus perished after having valiantly (gennaAv%) met a treacherous Lucanian ambush. The Roman commander had taken all reasonable precautions, and Polybius states that in such circumstances one could hardly find fault with the general. As concerns the treacherous Lucanians, by this act they had violated the established laws of humankind.11 Roman resolve again was evident in the events surrounding Ap. Claudius’s siege of Capua in 211 and Hannibal’s relief attack. Here the resolute Romans could not be deterred from their purpose. It seems to defy belief, Polybius states, that the Romans, whom Hannibal had defeated so many times in the past, refused to withdraw (9.3.1–4.8). The Carthaginians, and in particular their commander Hasdrubal, brother of Hannibal, matched the resolve of the Romans by their heroic 10. 8.37.1–13, esp. 2–3, 9–11; see Eckstein 1995b: 285–89 for Polybius’s views on drinking and drunkenness. Individual failings are a reflection of the times these books treat; cf. 7.2.1–8.9 (Hieronymus); 7.10.1–14.6; 8.8.1–9; 10.26.1–6; 11.7.1–3 (Philip V); 9.17.1–19.4 (Aratus, Cleomenes, Philip V, and Nicias [the sole example from the classical period]); 14.12.1–5 (Ptolemy IV); 15.25.22–25, 33.6–11, 35.3–7 (Agathocles); 15.37.1–2 (Antiochus III). 11. 8.35.1; see Walbank HC 2.109–10; MRR 1.269.

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exploits in defeat at the battle of the Metaurus in 207.12 Polybius notes with admiration Roman and Carthaginian courage and spirit in the conduct of this war, and he makes it clear that his high praise is in essence a didactic and utilitarian encomium of logismos (9.8.1–2, 9.9–10; cf. appendix C). Yet we also find signs of Carthaginian degeneracy. Even in the aristeia of Hannibal in book 9 (22.1–26.11), Polybius concludes that the great Carthaginian field marshal was notorious among his compatriots for his covetousness and for his savagery among the Romans. The Carthaginian commanders in Spain proved incapable of collective action, as cooperation broke down because of innate Carthaginian greed and thirst for domination.13 Carthaginian domineering treatment of the Iberians contributed to the loss of Carthaginian power in Spain (10.36.1–7). In winter 204/203 the deliberations of the Carthaginian Senate were scenes of tumult and discordance (14.6.9–10). Both in terms of tactics and equipment the Romans proved to be superior to the Carthaginians at the decisive engagement of the war at Zama (15.15.7–16.1). In the aftermath of this tremendous Roman victory, Carthaginian ambassadors put on an insincere and emotional performance concerning their plight, while Scipio Africanus coolly dwelt on Roman magnanimity and the Carthaginians’ treaty violations.14 In an interesting use of the barbarian category, Polybius actually represents the Carthaginians, or at least their mercenaries, in the battle at Zama as barbarians who were compelled by circumstances to die bravely (15.13.5). In the final battle of the war, therefore, Polybius’s narrative transforms the erstwhile noble opponent of Rome into the cowardly barbarian in order to highlight Roman virtue. There are, however, some indications of Roman lapses from ancestral virtue in these books as well. In his denunciation of the Roman appropriation of artwork from Syracuse, Polybius strikes an admonitory and didactic note similar in tone to his observations on Carthaginian aggression in Spain. The historian here points out the debilitating results of abandoning the customary practices of the victors in exchange for those of the conquered (9.10.1–13). Polybius relays Scipio’s command to his troops at New Carthage to kill all the citizens, sparing none; he goes on to describe the horrors of a Roman sack.15 Roman discipline broke down among Africanus’s Spanish troops, requiring brutal punishment of the ringleaders of the mutiny (11.25.1–30.5). Finally, in the context of the account of the First Macedon12. 11.1.1–2.11, with Eckstein 1995b: 43–44. 13. 9.11.2–3: Gmfyton FoAniji pleonejAan kaB filarxAan; cf. 10.6.5, 7.3. 14. 15.17.1–7; cf. 15.1.1–2.15: self-proclaimed treaty breakers and perfidy toward Roman ambassadors; and 15.4.5–12: Scipio’s magnanimity toward Carthaginian envoys. 15. 10.15.4–5, with Erskine 2000: 181–82 (comparing this passage with Thracian outrages at Mykalessos at Thuc. 7.29); cf. Walbank HC 2.215 ad loc.: “P. feels it necessary to explain this barbarous custom to his Greek readers”; but note Roman self-discipline and order in dividing up booty in the immediately following section (10.16.1–17.5, esp. 16.8–9).

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ian War, a fragment of a Macedonian orator’s speech seems to undercut the statement that the Romans preserve moral integrity in the conduct of war (13.3.6–8), as the speaker asserts that the Romans sacrifice Peloponnesians and Aetolians, holding themselves back in reserve like a phalanx (10.25.1–5). Individual Romans display this incipient Roman degeneration. In recounting the death of Marcellus, conqueror of Syracuse, Polybius states that he owed his fate to the fact that he behaved more like an imbecile than a general.16 In the account of Hannibal’s capture of Tarentum, Polybius relates the drunkenness of the Roman commander, Gaius Livius.17 These scattered images of the Romans as being somewhat deficient in high principled behavior both in generalship and in international relations, read in the context of the books that are to follow, foreshadow a deterioration of Roman collective group character. But Polybius’s rendering of Scipio Africanus stands in sharp contrast to these negative images of Romans, both collective and individual. Scipio’s excellent qualities are in evidence in Polybius’s account of the capture of New Carthage in 210/209.18 Here Scipio used religious superstition in order to bolster his troops, employing the Roman elite’s manipulation of the commons’ religious credulity Polybius so much admired.19 Polybius’s praise of Africanus is a panegyric to discipline and reasoning ability, the preserves of all great Polybian field commanders.20 Scipio instilled order and discipline in his troops in Spain through a stern regimen.21 Everything he did was informed by calculation and foresight.22 In a remarkable example of a cultural assimilationist strategy, Polybius likens Scipio’s rationality in his appeals to divine inspiration to the character of the great Spartan legislator Lycurgus (10.2.8–13). Moreover, Scipio in Spain demonstrated extraordinary self-restraint in sexual matters (10.18.7–15, 19.3–7), and high moral character in his refusal of the title of king.23 At Baecula he outwitted Has16. 10.32.7–8, with Walbank HC 2.242–43 ad 10.32.1–33.7; cf. the implicit contrast with Hannibal at 10.33.1–7. 17. 8.27.1–9, 30.6; Walbank HC 2.102 ad 8.25.7 on the praenomen. 18. See Pédech 1964: 219; Roveri 1964: 138–39; Eckstein 1995b: 177–82. 19. 10.11.7–8, 14.12 (Scipio, Poseidon, and New Carthage); 6.56.12–13 (Polybius’s admiration of Roman practice); but see 21.13.10–14 for Scipio detained on campaign in 190 by his duties as Salian priest; cf. Toynbee 1965: 2.410–15 and Meister 1975: 161–66 for criticism of Polybius’s “Enlightenment” reading of Roman statecraft and religion; Erskine 2000: 176–81 for a more nuanced view, arguing that Roman deisidaimonAa is a standard barbarian characteristic, but among the Romans it has been “rationalised.” 20. See assembled passages at Pédech 1964: 242–43. 21. E.g., 10.20.1–8, with Eckstein 1995b: 182. 22. 10.2.13; cf. 10.3.7, 5.8, 6.12, 7.4, 9.1 (Scipio conceals plans from all but Laelius); cf. 9.13.1–6 on the discretionary art of the general. 23. 10.40.1–9, with Aymard 1967.

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drubal by foresight and the element of surprise (11.20.1–23.9), and in the battle against the perfidious Andobales, he refused to use native Spanish troops in order to show that Roman valor and bravery alone conquered the Carthaginians and Celtiberians (11.31.6). Polybius’s high praise of Scipio’s burning of the Carthaginian camps in winter 204/203, an episode replete with deception and temporization, indeed appears to be special pleading for his Roman hero (14.5.15). The Roman commander treated Carthaginian ambassadors on the eve of Zama with courtesy, clemency, and magnanimity (15.5.5–6.4). In the interview with Hannibal before the decisive engagement, Scipio constructs a picture in line with the large narrative trajectory of Rome and Roman enemies in books 1–5: Rome is on the defensive; Carthage is the treacherous aggressor (15.8.1–14). The characterization of the Achaean hero Philopoemen parallels that of Scipio Africanus. In the modern arrangement of the text, it happens that the eulogy of Philopoemen (10.21.1–24.7) immediately follows upon that of Africanus’s shining exploits at New Carthage, and a comparison of these two accounts reveals striking similarities. Much like Scipio, with his sense of modesty and propriety in refusing the royal title in Spain, Philopoemen from his youth exhibited self-restraint in his private life and dress and self-control in money matters (10.22.5–6; 11.10.3–6). Again like his Roman counterpart, Philopoemen instituted a stern military regimen as Achaean hipparchos (10.22.6–24.7; 11.10.9). In his praise of Philopoemen, as in his praise of Africanus, Polybius stresses the Achaean general’s exercise of logismos in the heat of battle: Philopoemen outwitted Machanidas at Mantinea much as Scipio showed the greater ingenuity against Hasdrubal at Baecula.24 Once again we find in the characterization of an individual the theme of deterioration from earlier standards. Polybius contrasts Philopoemen’s military practices with the negligence of present-day commanders (10.24.2: eper oC nPn poioPsin cgemane%), and in a later passage the historian compares Philopoemen’s austere virtues with the dandified vanity and sloth of his Achaean contemporaries (11.8.1–10.9). Philopoemen’s virtues therefore stand out against incipient Achaean degeneration, just as Scipio serves as a model of Roman integrity among signs of Roman moral atrophy. Both men seem to be throwbacks to a pristine past. A Livian passage derived from Polybius demonstrates Polybius’s concern to bring Scipio and Philopoemen into close connection. There we see that, despite the necessity for some chronological gerrymandering, Polybius synchronized the deaths of Scipio and Philopoemen, along with Hannibal’s, in an obituary notice.25 Polybius’s two great heroes, then, highlight by way of contrast the pervasive societal degeneration 24. 11.14.3–7 (Mantinea); 11.20.1–23.9 (Baecula). 25. Liv. (P) 39.50.11, 52.1, with Nissen 1863: 41, 227, 233; Siegfried 1928: 16–17; Tränkle 1977: 20–21, 56–59; cf. Plb. 23.12.8–14.12.

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in the Mediterranean world in the period covered by these books. Enervated polities, corrupted monarchs, and evil courtiers populate the pages of books 7–15. In many cases, luxury and extravagance lay behind the collective degeneracy. Societal degeneration quickens in the following books, which treat the oikoumene in the years after the Roman victory at Zama.

Increasing Degeneration in Rome and Achaea (Books 16–29) In book 16, Polybius criticizes his contemporary, the Rhodian historian Zeno. He makes these remarks because he sees persistent failings of his contemporaries in the field of history writing.26 These remarks on the inadequacies of present-day figures could serve as a programmatic introduction to these books. Failings among Polybius’s historical characters become more frequent and pronounced as he progresses toward his own day. These failings reflect broader trends toward degeneracy in the oikoumene. In Polybius’s account of the conference at Locris between T. Quinctius Flamininus and Philip V, Alexander the Isian castigates Philip for his treacherous ways. He has departed, the speaker alleges, from the honorable practices of former Macedonian kings (18.3.1–12). Polybius in his own voice points to Philip II as an example of the virtue of old, especially in his magnanimous behavior in the aftermath of the Macedonian victory at Chaeronea. Men no longer emulate Philip II’s high standards of conduct; rather they allow anger and vengeance to direct their behavior in time of war (22.16.2–4). Evils set in late in Philip V’s reign that would eventually bring down the Macedonian monarchy, and in a speech to his sons the aged king dwells on the communal values that have disappeared from his court.27 Polybius notes that Perseus’s reign began well, but several chapters later he relays allegations of a Dardanian embassy to the Senate in 177/176 that Perseus was in league with the barbarian Bastarnae and the Gauls (25.3.1–8, 6.2–6). In Egypt affairs had degenerated to a very low level indeed, as evidenced by Ptolemy V Epiphanes’ savage treatment of Egyptian grandees and suppliants at Sais in 185 (22.17.1–7). The Messenians had through their own ignorance allowed their polity to plummet to the absolute worst condition (Dsxathn diauesin); they were restored to their original position only through the good offices of Lycortas and the Achaean Confederation (23.17.1). Polybius’s treatment of his bête noire, the Aetolians, in their interview with Flamininus in the aftermath of Cynoscephalae, continues both his general condemnation of Aetolia and the notion of a general moral decline through26. 16.14.1–20.9, with Meister 1975: 173–78; Sacks 1981: 76–77. 27. Evils: 22.18.1–2; cf. Liv. 39.24.1–6 for Philip’s anger and aggressive designs against Rome; speech to Perseus and Demetrius: 23.11.6–8; cf. Liv. 40.8.7–20.

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out Greece. Flamininus was exasperated by the vainglorious Aetolians, who claimed the credit for the victory. When the Roman commander conducted a courteous interview with a legation from Philip, the Aetolians became suspicious of his motivations and his good faith. Here Polybius remarks as subjective historian that bribery and license had become prevalent in Greece by this time (18.34.7–8; cf. 18.48.8–9). Aetolians, in Polybius’s view, had at best always been semibarbarians; they had never experienced any optimal political and social organization from which to fall. But other Greeks further illustrate the general Greek malaise. Cretans, for whom Polybius has almost as little regard as he has for Aetolians, witnessed the beginnings of great troubles in the 170s, though Polybius cannot refrain from remarking that one can hardly speak of the beginning of troubles on that perennially unruly island. There the Cydonians’ atrocities in the late 170s exceeded all those that had gone before.28 Decadence in Boeotia was a far cry from the former well-being and fame of that state (20.4.1–3). The Boeotians as a whole had refused to stand up to Macedonian encroachments, but some brave souls did so, as there was still a faint glimmer of the Boeotian ancestral spirit (20.5.4). They welcomed Antiochus III on the eve of the Antiochene War, not because of resentment at the murder of the Boeotarch Brachylles or Flamininus’s punitive expedition against Coronea, as some allege, but rather because of this progressive degeneration in the minds and spirits of the Boeotians.29 We find the same pattern of progressive degeneration when we come to the study of Achaean and Roman collective characters in these books. There are, however, certainly examples of pristine virtue, both collective and individual. For example, the Achaean Confederation in 185 rejected Eumenes’ offer of 120 talents, the interest from which was to provide payment to individuals for attending Achaean synodoi. Apollonidas of Sicyon arose and, pointing out that the interests of democracies and monarchs are by nature opposed, argued that Eumenes’ proferred gift was in effect a bribe detrimental to Achaea’s interests. Cassander of Aegina also advised rejection of Eumenes’ proposal, stating that an honorable gift would be the restitution of Aegina, now in the hands of Attalus. The Achaeans, having heard these

28. See 24.3, with Walbank HC 1.508 ad 4.53.5 for Polybius’s negative views on Cretans; 28.14.1–4 (Cydonia); cf. the allegation at Hdt. 1.2.1. 29. 20.7.3–5. In these books again examples of individual depravity parallel collective degeneracy: e.g., 16.1.1–9, 10.1a–4, 24.1–8; 22.13.1–14.12; 23.8.1–7, 10.1–16 (Philip V); 16.13.1–3; 18.17.1–5 (Nabis); 20.8.1–5 (Antiochus III); 21.34.1–2 (Moagetes of Cibyra); 23.5.1–18 (Deinocrates of Messene); 26.1a.1–2, 1.1–14 (Antiochus IV); 27.15.1–16 (Charops); 27.16.1–6 (Theodotus and Philostratus); 27.17 (Pharnaces); 29.7.1–9.13 (Perseus and Eumenes); 29.13.1–2 (Genthius).

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speeches with deep emotion, rejected Eumenes’ offer with loud shouts. Polybius adds that they did so even though the enormous sum aroused an almost irresistible temptation.30 As in books 2, 4 and 5, Achaeans exhibit a meticulous observation of legalities. In 185/184 Apollonidas of Sicyon, the statesman who had opposed Eumenes’ bribe, was part of an Achaean embassy appearing before the Senate on two counts: to present the Achaean case on the interminable Spartan question and to answer charges, brought by Q. Caecilius Metellus, of willful Achaean disobedience to Rome in refusing to call a general Achaean assembly at the request of a Roman legation.31 The Achaeans responded to Caecilius’s charges by referring to the Achaean law stating that only in cases involving a resolution of war or peace or an official request from the Roman Senate was it lawful to summon the assembly.32 In parochial matters involving the Peloponnesus the Achaeans display the same regard for proper legal procedure, and in the settlement of the turbulent affairs in Messene, Achaean fair-mindedness exempted the Messenians from federal taxation for a period of three years.33 In these books Polybius also shows examples of Roman virtue, both collective and individual, in parallel to those of the Achaeans. In spring 200 a Roman commission met Philip V’s agent Nicanor in the grove of the Academy outside Athens. The tempered requests and civility of the Roman legati in the Polybian account are striking. The Romans asked that Philip cease hostilities against all Greek states and give just compensation to Attalus according to the decisions of an international tribunal (Dn Gsi krithrAi). Should Philip comply with Roman requests, they would remain at peace. The Roman commission relayed these proceedings to the Epirotes at Phoenice, King Amynander in Athamania, the Aetolians at Naupactus, and the Achaeans at Aegium.34 At the Locris conference of autumn 198 Flamininus relayed straightforward Roman terms to Philip, who for his part acted in an

30. 22.7.3–8.13; but cf. 24.6.1–7: the Achaeans in spring 180 accepted a gift of a squadron of quinqueremes and a sum of money from Ptolemy V Epiphanes (with reference to previous gifts). 31. See MRR 1.373 for Caecilius’s embassy to Greece of 185. 32. 22.12.5–10; on Achaean legalities in relations with Rome, cf. 23.4.12–14; Liv. (P) 38.32.8 (foedus with Rome or Sparta?; the evidence does not permit a certain conclusion; see Badian 1952: 78 and n. 20); 39.37.9–10. 33. 23.18.1–2 (arrangements for admission of Sparta to the Confederation engraved on a public stele); 24.2.3–4 (public stele on the Messenian settlement; tax exemption). For examples of individual Achaean virtue in these books, see 16.36.1–37.7; 20.12.1–7; 21.32c.1–4; 23.12.3 (Philopoemen); 21.9.1–3 (Diophanes of Megalopolis); 23.17.1 (Lycortas). 34. 16.27.1–5; Walbank HC 2.537 ad 16.27.2–3 suggests that the Roman commission was not yet empowered to deliver an official Roman ultimatum; cf. the similarly civil tone of the Roman commissioners who met Philip at Abydus at 16.34.2–5.

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undignified manner, and it was in the king’s power to desist from aggression and preserve peace (18.1.1–14). Such examples of Roman civility and fairness in international diplomacy are but one index of Roman collective virtue. Polybius remarks on the superiority of Roman ways in the military sphere. Romans have devised a much better system than that of the Greeks in transporting stakes on the march and in constructing palisades (18.18.1–18), and following the account of the battle at Cynoscephalae, Polybius gives a famous analysis of the superiority of the Roman legion over the Macedonian phalanx (18.28.1–32.13). Roman military virtue is evident in the actual account of the battle, particularly in the heroic independent initiative of an anonymous military tribune, echoing the young Philopoemen’s bold action at a crucial moment in the battle at Sellasia.35 At the Tempe conference in the aftermath of Cynoscephalae, Flamininus instructed Philip V and the assembled Greek ambassadors in the virtues of Roman clemency (18.37.1–12). Conforming to the pattern we have seen in the analysis of the Polybian narrative in books 1–5, the Romans in these books frequently emerge as protectors of victims of aggression. The most famous episode illustrating Roman disinterested behavior and upright motivations is of course Flamininus’s Isthmian Proclamation, the stunning public announcement of the Roman policy of the “freedom of the Greeks.”36 The Polybian account of the Antiochene War provides another conspicuous example of Roman straight dealing. The Romans were on the defensive in spring and summer 196 against the aggressive actions of Antiochus III. Roman commissioners hesitated to remove Roman garrisons from Chalcis, Corinth, and Demetrias because of the Seleucid monarch’s designs on Greece.37 In Polybius’s account, immediately following Flamininus’s dramatic performance at the Isthmian games, the Roman commissioners gave audience to an embassy from Antiochus. They stated in no uncertain terms that it was the Romans’ wish that Antiochus refrain from any warlike action in Asia Minor, withdrawing from those cities formerly held by either Philip or Ptolemy, and that he not cross over to Greece under arms (18.47.1–4). In these passages Romans are defenders of right, and in relaying the contents of Scipio Africanus’s letter to Prusias, Polybius provides a catalogue of Roman goodwill toward kings.38 The Romans were on the defensive against

35. 18.26.1–5; 2.67.1–68.2 (Philopoemen). 36. 18.46.1–15; among an enormous modern literature, see Badian 1958: 69–75; Gruen 1984: 132–57; Ferrary 1988: 45–218; Eckstein 1990. 37. 18.45.10–12, but note that Antiochus’s seizures across the Hellespont give some historical substance to this representation; see Walbank HC 2.615 ad 18.47.2. 38. 21.11.1–13; assembled references at Gruen 1982: 55 n. 20 for Africanus’s beneficia to foreign princes.

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Philip (cf. 23.8.2–3), and they showed steadfastness and resolve following a defeat at the hands of Perseus in the early stages of the Third Macedonian War (27.8.1–15, esp. 8–9).39 There is ample evidence, then, for Achaean and Roman virtue, both collective and individual, in these books, but there also are unmistakable indications that deterioration had continued in both polities. In Achaea, the realities of Roman power had necessitated compromises in the Confederation’s political principles. Polybius records a debate between the Achaean statesmen Philopoemen and Aristaenus after Rome had emerged as the predominant power in the Mediterranean world. Aristaenus believed that Achaea must obey all directives of the Romans, even when such directives ran counter to any Achaean law. Philopoemen, on the other hand, was of the conviction that the Achaeans should indeed comply with Roman requests, but only when they were in accordance with Achaean laws and the terms of the Achaean alliance with Rome. Aristaenus argued that there are two aims in all foreign policy, the noble (tb kalan) and the advantageous (tb symfAron). The Achaeans, in his view, were no longer in a position to pursue the noble, but they should be careful to preserve what still was within their reach, the advantageous. While admitting the superiority of Roman power, Philopoemen strove to stave off the inevitable complete Achaean submission to Rome, and the consequent loss of Achaean honor, for as long as possible.40 The important point here is that, in Polybius’s representation, while Aristaenus and Philopoemen differed as to the proper Achaean diplomatic response to Rome, both were convinced that the Achaean political proaAresi%, which Polybius glorifies in the Achaean prokataskeue of book 2, would soon be a thing of the past. Indeed, Aristaenus admits that in obeying Roman wishes, the appearance of adhering to the law was the best that present circumstances permitted (24.11.5). In comparison with Polybius’s account of the Achaean Confederation and its uncompromising adherence to the political principles of freedom and autonomy as we find it in books 2, 4, and 5, the Aristaenus-Philopoemen debate marks a disintegration of the Confederation’s integrity in international relations in the historian’s conception, even if it was imposed by external circumstances. Polybius explicitly states that a change for the worse in Achaea set in commencing with Callicrates’ embassy to Rome in 180. Callicrates, according to the historian, was the architect of great evils for Greece, and especially for the 39. Examples of individual Roman virtue: 16.23.1–7; 20.12.1–7; 21.15.1–13, 17.1–3 (Scipio Africanus); 18.48.1–10 (P. Lentulus); 21.10.1–14 (L. Aemilius Regillus); 21.41.1–3 (Cn. Manlius Vulso); 29.20.1–4 (L. Aemilius Paullus). 40. 24.11.1–13.10; on the interpretative problems, see Petzold 1969: 43–46; Gruen 1984: 331–33.

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Achaeans. He pressed the political position of Aristaenus to its logical, but disgraceful, conclusion: in opposition to the sage advice of Polybius’s father Lycortas, who argued against unnecessarily involving the Romans in parochial Achaean concerns, Callicrates and the strategos Hyperbatus stated that the Achaeans must punctiliously obey each and every Roman demand. For Polybius, Callicrates’ embassy to Rome not only represented a betrayal of Achaean political principles, but also led to a marked moral degeneration in the conduct of Roman foreign policy (24.10.3–6). At the end of this passage, Polybius’s editorial comments as subjective historian provide lessons for both his Greek and Roman audiences. He praises the Romans in stating that they are generally men of high moral principles who treat those appealing to them in misfortune with justice. But they occasionally need politically prudent men, presumably those Greek statesmen, like the historian, who are in full possession of logismos, to remind them of the demands of justice whenever they should go astray. Callicrates, in Polybius’s estimation, had done exactly the opposite, crushing the spirit of the Achaean people upon his return to Greece, cowing them into electing him strategos, and thereupon proceeding to receive bribes and engage in every form of political impropriety.41 There are other indications of a loss of Roman integrity in international relations earlier in Polybius’s text. As we have seen, Polybius hints that Roman military practices are not what they once were when he states that the Romans preserve a trace of the old ways in their conduct of war (13.3.6–8). We have also considered Polybius’s remark on the political corruption prevalent throughout Greece in the context of the Aetolian allegations against Flamininus in the aftermath of Cynoscephalae (18.34.7–8). The Aetolians had charged Flamininus with having taken bribes from Philip V. This was the reason, they alleged, that the Roman commander put forth such a lenient policy for the postwar settlement regarding Macedonia. But here, in an editorial remark following his assertion that the Aetolian charges against Flamininus were unfounded, Polybius intrudes as subjective historian in order to comment explicitly on a decline in Roman moral integrity, comparing the Romans of earlier times with those of the present day (18.35.1–2). Elsewhere we find increasing brutishness and arrogance in Roman interactions with Greeks. In book 20 Polybius provides a striking example of Roman domineering behavior in the diplomatic interchange at Heraclea in summer 191 between the Roman consul M’. Acilius Glabrio and the Aetolian strategos 41. 24.8.1–10.15; cf. Paus. 7.10.5, 11.2, 12.2, 12.8. For Polybius’s views on Callicrates and his effect on Roman policy, see Derow 1970; Gruen 1976a: 32–35; Musti 1978: 122–23; Eckstein 1985: 277–80; for attempts to rehabilitate Callicrates and his followers, see Badian 1958: 90–91; Errington 1969: 195–205; Deininger 1971: 197–202 and references at 201 nn. 22–24; Schwertfeger 1974: 4–5; Nottmeyer 1995: 15–119.

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Phaineas concerning an Aetolian deditio in fidem to Rome. A. M. Eckstein has argued that modern views of Glabrio’s brutality are exaggerated and that in this passage Polybius stresses the consistency in Roman approaches to unconditional surrender. Be that as it may, it is noteworthy that in this famous passage Polybius does not impose an image of Romans as quasi Hellenes, a persistent representation in the first five books studied in chapter 4, but rather he strikes a note on the cultural divide between Greeks and Romans.42 In Polybius’s account, Phaineas did not understand the full meaning of Roman deditio, but once he learned all that it entailed, he remarked that it was neither just nor “Greek.”43 Glabrio retorted that it is not the place of the defeated to give themselves “Hellenic pretensions,” threatening the Aetolian statesman with the infamous collars and chains.44 We find a further indication of Roman imperious behavior at Messene. Polybius as subjective historian here notes that it became apparent in the Messenian affair that the Romans were angered whenever all did not fall out as they wished and whenever any action was undertaken contrary to their instructions (23.17.3–4). In the debate between Philopoemen and Aristaenus, Polybius hints at incipient decay in Roman policy when he makes Philopoemen say in a concessive clause (Ev% ge toP nPn) that Rome has until the present placed value in formal international treaty agreements (24.13.3). The theme of collective Roman degeneration arises in the context of the Pydna campaign. Before setting out against Perseus, Aemilius Paullus criticized the “armchair” generals in Rome whose prattling was injurious to public interests of state, and Perseus’s envoys to Antiochus speak of Roman arrogance and oppression (CperhfanAa, barAth%).45 Books 16–29, then, continue the general portrayal of degeneration in the Mediterranean world in the period following the battle at Zama and the establishment of Roman hegemony. Philopoemen and Scipio Africanus again serve as exceptions that prove the rule of the Mediterranean-wide malady. Indeed, Polybius explic-

42. 20.9.1–10.17; Liv. (P) 36.27.1–29.4; cf. Plb. 21.2.1–6, 4.1–5.13, 8.1–3; Dahlheim 1968: 33–38; Gruen 1982 on the event, downplaying Polybius’s alleged misunderstanding; Eckstein 1995a. See Dahlheim 1968: 5–67 for extensive discussion of the Roman deditio. 43. 20.10.6: oGte dAkaion . . . oGu\ ^Ellhnikan; cf. Liv. 36.28.4–6: quae moris Graecorum non sint (Phaineas); more Romano (Glabrio). 44. 20.10.7–10: CllhnokopePte; this word appears one other time in Polybius (25.3.1), where it means to “court favor among Greeks”; see Mauersberger col. 756. 45. “Armchair” generals: 29.1.1–3; cf. Liv. 44.22.8, and Pédech 1964: 274 for Polybius’s sources; Roman arrogance and oppression: 29.4.9–10. For individual examples of Roman despotic behavior and moral bankruptcy in these books, see, for example, 18.43.1–13 (Flamininus); 21.30.9–10 (M. Fulvius Nobilior); 28.13.8–9, 17.4–10 (Q. Marcius Philippus); 21.38.1–7 (Roman centurion’s rape of the Galatian noblewoman Chiomara); 29.27.1–13 (C. Popillius Laenas and the “Day of Eleusis”).

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itly states that Roman collective character has degenerated in his own day (18.35.1–2).

Roman Nova Sapientia and Achaean dboylAa (Books 30–39) The narrative pattern of an increasing degeneration at Rome and in the Achaean Confederation continues in books 30–39. To be sure, as in earlier books, there are examples of individual and collective virtue. As we should expect, individual virtue shines through most brilliantly in Polybius’s account of his Roman benefactors, L. Aemilius Paullus and P. Scipio Aemilianus. Paullus’s moral integrity was as conspicuous in death as it had been in life. By the standards of a Roman aristocrat of this period, the conqueror of Macedonia died a poor man, so indifferent was he to the acquisition of wealth. He could not repay his widow the full amount of her dowry from his liquid assets, and his heirs had to sell off some of the family’s real property in order to do so.46 Praise of the father opens the way for more extensive praise of the son. Polybius explains the reasons for Scipio’s youthful rise to preeminent fame as well as the circumstances of his renowned, long-standing friendship with Aemilianus—a relationship, according to Polybius, resembling that between father and son. Astounding for his age, Scipio soon established a reputation in Rome for self-discipline and moderation. Scipio strove to emulate his father in scrupulousness in money matters. He displayed financial integrity in 163/162 upon the death of Aemilia, the wife of Africanus and mother of his adoptive father, P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus Minor. Aemilianus inherited from his paternal aunt an enormous fortune and proceeded to bestow her matronly ornaments upon his natural mother, whose own resources were insufficient to maintain her in a style suitable to her rank in Roman society. He exhibited a similar generosity in the payment of the dowries of his two aunts by adoption. Each owed half of her dowry to her husband, and it was arranged that the balance should be paid upon the death of their mother Aemilia. By Roman law Aemilianus was entitled to pay the remainder over a period of three years, but he paid off the debt well ahead of time, astounding the beneficiaries, P. Scipio Nasica and the elder Ti. Sempronius Gracchus. When they asked him what he was about, Aemilianus replied that he insisted on legal exactitude in business transactions, but he preferred a liberal informality in relations with relatives.47 Scipio further demonstrated his magnanimity two years later upon the death of his natural father, L. Aemilius Paullus. 46. 31.22.1–11, with Walbank HC 2.595–96 ad 18.35.6 for the legal obligations. 47. 31.26.1–27.16, with Astin 1967: 357 (family stemma); Dixon 1985 for Roman law, women, and property as they relate to these events; cf. Erskine 1996 for Greek perceptions of Roman greed.

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His brother had fallen into dire financial straits, and, according to Polybius, Scipio gave up his entire inheritance, amounting to some sixty talents, in order that his brother’s estate might equal his own. Moreover, he contributed half the expenses to his brother’s funeral games for Paullus, and when his mother Papiria died, he handed over much of her property to his sisters, although they had no legal claim. By these actions, Polybius tells us, Aemilianus secured his reputation for temperance and generosity (31.28.1–13). Scipio yearned to establish a reputation for courage as well, and here both chance and his mentor Polybius were of great assistance. The Macedonian royal hunting preserves had lain unused during the Third Macedonian War, and upon its conclusion, Paullus set his sons onto the big game, believing this to be an excellent form of training for youth. Consequently, Scipio had complete control over the Macedonian hunting preserves in the aftermath of Pydna. He later discovered that his mentor Polybius was also an avid hunter, and Polybius states that in these pursuits Scipio attained a great reputation for courage in Rome. The historian adds that he relays this information on Scipio’s formative period in order that readers may more easily believe the account of the brilliant achievements of his mature years (31.29.1–30.3). We later see Scipio’s magnanimous spirit in the scene before Carthage in its death throes. He exercised the self-control and temperance for which Polybius has earlier praised him in his supreme triumph, remarking to the historian that although he enjoyed this shining moment as destroyer of Rome’s long-standing enemy, he was also well aware of the mutability of fortune and the likelihood that the same fate would one day overcome his own city. Polybius remarks that one would be hard pressed to find a statement as profound as Scipio’s words before the spectacle of Carthage burning.48 But Scipio was an anomaly for his times, and it is perhaps telling that there are no explicit references to Roman collective virtues in these books. Polybius’s remarks on Roman embassies to Greece are as close as he comes to collective praise. In late 147/146 the commission of Sex. Julius Caesar and other Roman legati traveled to Achaea in order to censure the Achaeans for their rough handling of an earlier Roman embassy.49 They met an Achaean embassy en route headed by Polybius’s brother Thearidas, on its way to Rome to apologize for the affair. The Roman commission asked them to return home, as its charge precisely concerned this matter. In a meeting at Aegium Polybius tells us that the Roman legation took a more 48. 38.21.1–3; cf. 38.22.1–3 (App. Pun. 132): “Scipio’s tears,” rejected as a genuine Polybian fragment by Walbank HC 3.725 ad loc. 49. See Gruen 1984: 521 and nn. 197–98; MRR 1.464. But note that Orestes and the other Roman legates exaggerated the incident before the Senate (38.9.1–3).

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favorable view of the situation than the Achaeans did themselves, using a friendly manner in advising the Achaeans to refrain from any further hostile acts directed against either Romans or Spartans. Wiser statesmen in Achaea gratefully accepted Sextus’s just admonitions, but the majority, led on by Critolaus and Diaeus, replied courteously to the Romans but remained committed to their aggressive designs (38.10.1–11.11). Roman diplomatic courtesy was again in evidence shortly thereafter when the propraetor Q. Caecilius Metellus dispatched yet another Roman embassy to the general Achaean assembly at Corinth in order to bring the Achaeans to their senses. Again the Romans used conciliatory gestures in an effort to make the Achaean leadership see reason. The Achaean multitude, however, stirred up into an unreasoning frenzy by the demagogic Critolaus, jeered at the Roman commissioners. The Roman legati retreated to Athens and Sparta to wait upon events (38.12.1–13.9). We must always, of course, take into account the fragile basis of evidence arising from the faulty transmission of the fragmentary books, but among the extant remains of books 30–39 these passages in which Polybius extols Roman moral virtue and integrity, either individual or collective, do not amount to very much in comparison with our two prior units of analysis. On the other hand, deterioration in Roman collective group characteristics is prominent in these books and parallels that which we find among the Greeks. For example, chicanery in international diplomacy of the Senate looms large in Polybius’s account of Pergamene affairs. In the immediate aftermath of the Roman victory at Pydna, Attalus II, the brother of the Pergamene king Eumenes II, arrived in Rome in order to congratulate the Senate and also to seek Roman assistance against Galatian depredations. The Romans warmly received Attalus, but Polybius informs us of the senators’ true motives. Suspicious of Eumenes’ communications with Perseus, they were dissatisfied with the king’s performance in the war, and they sought to engender discord in the Pergamene royal court by offering Attalus his own kingdom. Only the dispatch of the courtier Stratius from Pergamum was able to dissuade Attalus from turning against his brother in accordance with Roman wishes. Once it became clear that Attalus would not take their bait, the disgruntled senators reneged on their promise of the cities of Aenus and Maronea. Polybius further details the Senate’s duplicity in dealing with Eumenes, who sought a personal interview. The senators had publicly lavished honors on the Pergamene king, but now that their opinion of him had soured, they were in a quandary. They would appear as hypocrites were they to reveal their true feelings, but they felt unable to receive him as warmly as they had in the past. They solved the problem by issuing a public decree barring interviews in the curia with all kings. According to the Polybian account, however, there were hidden motivations in this action, as the senators were

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well aware that this snubbing of the king would influence the Galatians to bring added pressure upon Eumenes’ hard-pressed kingdom.50 The same base Roman motivations and duplicitous maneuvers are in evidence in Polybius’s account of Roman relations with the Seleucid monarchy. The senators acted in a truly Machiavellian way in the question of the repatriation and coronation of Demetrius I Soter. Polybius states that Demetrius’s detention at Rome had long been considered unjust. In a powerful oration dwelling on his debt to his Roman benefactors and his rights to the Seleucid throne, Demetrius moved many of the senators individually, but he failed in his overall aim. The Senate collectively determined to keep Demetrius hostage and to support the reign of Antiochus IV Epiphanes’ young son. They took such action, Polybius surmises, because they were less certain to control the vigorous Demetrius, who was of an age to rule. It would be much easier to manipulate a pliant boy-king.51 Roman actions in Syria and Numidia further illustrate Roman duplicity. The embassy to the east in 163 of Cn. Octavius had a large agenda. In Syria the charge was to enforce the terms of the treaty of Apamea. Octavius too zealously went about carrying out the task, burning Seleucid warships and crippling royal elephants. He was slain in the civil unrest that followed. Fearing Roman reprisals, King Demetrius sent Leptines, Octavius’s murderer, to Rome. The Senate on Polybius’s interpretation decided to take no action against Leptines, allowing the grievance to remain open for future use.52 The senators again looked to selfinterest rather than justice in the disputes between the Numidian king Massanissa and Carthage in the late 160s. Massanissa coveted the coastal cities and sought to wrest these regions from the Carthaginians. What he could not win by force he gained by appeal to the Senate. He succeeded, Polybius editorially states, not because he had justice on his side, but rather because the Romans considered it to be in their own interests to rule against Carthage.53 In 157/156 the Romans undertook a new war against the Dalmatians. The

50. 30.1.1–3.9 (winter 168/167), 19.1–14 (winter 167/166); cf. 32.1.5–7 (further overtures to Attalus in 160/159); see Gruen 1984: 584–92 for Attalus’s career as king and his relations with Rome. 51. 31.2.1–8, esp. 7–8; cf. 31.11.7: Apollonis instructs Demetrius that the Romans have deprived him of the Seleucid throne without reason (dlagv%); 31.11.1–15.12 for Demetrius’s escape from Rome in summer 162, with the assistance of Polybius. For Roman interference in Ptolemaic affairs, see 31.10.1–10. Walbank 1972: 170–73 argues that Polybius views Roman action in this passage without moral reservations. It is, however, difficult not to read Polybius’s editorial comment at 31.10.7 in moral terms; see Eckstein 1995b: 103–5. On the events, see Gruen 1984: 692–702. 52. 32.3.1–13, esp. 11–13; cf. 31.1.6–8: the embassy of 164 of C. Sulpicius Galus and M’. Sergius was to meddle (polypragmonasonta) in Pergamene and Syrian affairs. 53. 31.21.1–8, with Walbank HC 3.489–91.

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senators clearly had just cause to declare this war, but the moral imperatives of the bellum iustum were not what determined the issue in Polybius’s account. Rome went to war because the senators believed that it had been too long since the Romans had demonstrated their power along the Illyrian Adriatic coast and that the legions had been inactive for an extended period. They needed the experience of actual warfare. These were the real reasons (aDtAai) for the Roman declaration of war, Polybius tells us, though they held out that they were avenging the outrages against their ambassadors.54 In Polybius’s estimation something had clearly gone awry with the collective judgment of the Senate in this period, as in the case of the charlatan Heraclides, who early in 152 seduced the majority of the senators into supporting his candidate for the Seleucid throne, Alexander Balas (33.18.9–14). The unpopular Spanish or “Fiery” War brought out signs of degeneration both in the Senate and among the men of military-recruitment age in 152/151. The Senate heard embassies from both the friendly Iberian tribes and the hostile Aravacae. They afterwards stated that the proconsul M. Claudius Marcellus would inform all parties concerned of the senatorial resolution at some future date. Polybius maintains, however, that the Senate, arranging for the replacement of Marcellus, secretly sent Roman legates to Spain to continue to prosecute the war vigorously. While the senators were prepared to undertake a full-scale war effort in Spain, the Roman youth, fearful of the Spanish theater of operations, refused to offer themselves for recruitment, both at the officer level and among the rank and file. Such conduct, in Polybius’s eyes, was nothing short of shameless.55 We could hardly hope for a better index of degeneration throughout all ranks of Roman society in Polybius’s mind than that which this passage provides. The preceding catalogue of passages shows that in these final books Polybius consistently portrays Roman motivations in international diplomacy in Machiavellian terms, signaling a decided decay in the moral virtues of the Roman political leadership. The fulsome praise of Scipio Aemilianus shows by way of contrast how far Roman youth of Polybius’s day had fallen below the standards set by their ancestors. The wicked tendencies of most young men at Rome facilitated Scipio’s early rise to fame (31.25.4: dib tbn DpB tb xePron crmbn tpn pleAstvn). Polybius goes on to describe the habitual practices of contemporary Roman youth: some had lost control of themselves in infatuation for young boys or prostitutes, many were given over to entertainments of all sorts, while some indeed lived so much for pleasure that they would pay a talent for a male concubine or three hundred drachmae for a jar of caviar. This state of affairs 54. 32.9.1–5, 13.1–9. Kostial 1995 attempts to show that the conception of the bellum iustum (“just war”) weighed heavily in Roman foreign policy; for criticism, see Champion 1997d. 55. 35.1.1–4.7: tp% tpn nAvn dnaisxyntAa%(4.7), with MRR 1.453–57.

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stirred the elder Cato to observe caustically in a public speech that in contemporary Roman society attractive boys brought a higher price than fields; and caviar more than farmhands. This extravagance in Roman social life set in, according to Polybius, precisely at this time (katb toB% nPn legomAnoy% kairoA%), when the threat of Macedonia had disappeared and wealth poured into Rome as a result of Roman imperial success (25.4–8). It is noteworthy that in the typology of state evolution in book 6, these are the circumstances leading to the downfall of imperial powers (57.5–8). In relaying Scipio’s generosity toward his family members, Polybius remarks that such behavior was all the more remarkable at Rome, where meanness in money matters was the order of the day (31.26.9–10, 27.10–11). While Scipio spent his time developing the proper skills for a man of his age on the chase with the historian, other Roman youth consumed their days in the law courts, courting the favor of the people. They could gain their reputations, Polybius notes, only by injuring others; Scipio, on the other hand, acquired his fame by fair means, causing misfortune to no one in his quest for glory. In this passage, Polybius explicitly states that, contrary to the practices of his peers, Scipio acted in a manner consonant with the established customs and laws of the Roman people (prb% tb ^RvmaAvn Guh kaB namima). As we have seen, such formal institutional structures are for Polybius the prime causal determinant for collective group characteristics. At this time most Roman youth, on his account, were slipping far from these ancestral practices. The tenor of Scipio’s life appears all the more remarkable, and indeed heroic, insofar as he alone was able to adhere to, and apparently in some cases to go beyond, the high moral standards his forebears had established.56 Even though Scipio Aemilianus was the destroyer of Carthage and the sack of the inveterate enemy city was the crowning achievement of a glorious career, it is in the account of the Third Romano-Carthaginian War that we find what is perhaps the most sustained denunciation of Roman dealings with foreign states. Much of this criticism comes through Polybius’s narrative voice as indirect historian. Polybius employs the purported views of other Greeks as the medium through which he gives voice to this criticism of Rome. He gives four different Greek viewpoints on the Roman destruction of Carthage and the crushing of the pseudo-Philip, Andriscus.57 He arranges these chiastically; the first and last assessments are more favorable to Rome, while the second and third judgments are condemnatory. Walbank has argued that this arrangement provides a clue to the historian’s own position: since the favorable assessments occupy the rhetorically emphatic first and last

56. 31.29.1–12; 6.47.1–2 (Guh kaB namoi as fundamental); cf. 13.3.6–8; 18.35.1–2. 57. For a concise account of Andriscus’s suppression, see Kallet Marx 1995a: 30–41.

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places, we should see in them the point of view Polybius preferred.58 But it is important to acknowledge the significance of Polybius’s decision to report the Greek condemnatory opinions on the Roman actions at all. The Romans, according to Polybius, had been looking for a suitable pretext (kairbn Dzatoyn Dpitadeion kaB prafasin eDsxamona) for going to war against Carthage, as they had for a long time determined that the city must be destroyed (36.2.1–4). The Carthaginians had been preempted by the people of Utica in submitting to a formal surrender, a deditio in fidem, to Rome. Consequently, a formal and total submission on the part of the Carthaginians under these circumstances would have seemed unremarkable and imitative. A Carthaginian delegation to Rome was empowered to undertake whatever action seemed best for the beleaguered state, but upon arrival at Rome it discovered that Rome had already declared war and that the Roman army and general had departed. The Carthaginians therefore committed themselves to Roman good faith (36.3.1–9). The Roman praetor informed the Carthaginian ambassadors of the Senate’s determination, and the senators granted the Carthaginians freedom, territory and possessions, and the use of their own laws. But there was an unsettling rider: within thirty days Carthage must yield three hundred hostages. The people at home were generally pleased with these terms, but there was another disturbing aspect of the Roman stipulations—there had been no mention of Carthage itself. At Carthage a certain Mago the Bruttian gave a public address, which Polybius much admired. Mago was a political realist, and he advised that the time had passed when the Carthaginians could afford to speculate as to what the Roman demands would be. At present they had forfeited such autonomy, and they should look circumstances in the face. They must now accept any Roman command, unless it should prove to be “totally oppressive and beyond what could reasonably be expected.” A. M. Eckstein has argued that scholars have overlooked the significance of this passage in their focus on the famous account of Greek opinions on Roman policy at this time. He claims that Mago had the clear-eyed vision to see that, before the surrender of the three hundred hostages, the Carthaginians should have determined on either complete submission or a full commitment to war. It was this ability to assess the situation at hand so acutely that Polybius admired in Mago; the Carthaginians by contrast blundered their way through irresolution and halfhearted measures to their own annihilation.59 Yet surely Polybius intends to stir the emotions of his reader in his 58. Walbank HC 3.664; 1985: 168–73; cf. the contrasting views of Musti 1978: 55–57 and Walbank 1985: 286–89; Ferrary 1988: 327–34 rightly cautions against any of the four positions as being definitively Polybius’s own. See now Walbank 2002: 18–21. 59. 36.5.1–6; Eckstein 1995b: 217–18; Pédech 1964: 199–200; but cf. 38.1.5: Carthaginians had some just cause for complaint about the Roman action against them, unlike the Greeks.

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account of Roman harshness and Carthaginian helplessness. In this connection another passage deserves more attention than it has received: But as they all, owing to the war being close upon them and owing to the uncertainty of the future, were inclined to obey the orders, it was decided to send the hostages to Lilybaeum, and choosing at once three hundred of their young men they sent them off with great lamentations and tears (metb megalh% oDmvgp% kaB dakrAvn), as each was escorted by his near friends and relatives, the women being especially violent in their grief. (36.5.6–8)

Here Polybius seems to come close to the sort of sensational, “tragic” historical writing for which he censures Phylarchus and other historians.60 In the account of the divergent Greek views on the Roman destruction of Carthage and the crushing of Andriscus (36.9.1–10.7), Polybius has one of his hypothetical Greek critics state that in these actions the Romans had practiced fraud and deception, departing from earlier Roman behavior in international affairs: Others said that the Romans were, generally speaking, a civilized people, and that their peculiar merit on which they prided themselves was that they conducted their wars in a simple and noble manner, employing neither night attacks nor ambushes, disapproving of every kind of deceit and fraud, and considering that nothing but direct and open attacks were legitimate for them. But in the present case, throughout the whole of their proceedings in regard to Carthage, they had used deceit and fraud (nPn dB panta perB toB% KarxhdonAoy% di\ dpath% kaB daloy kexeirikAnai), offering certain things one at a time and keeping others secret, until they cut off every hope the city had of help from its allies. This, they said, savored more of a despot’s intrigue than of principles of a civilized state such as Rome, and could only be justly described as something very like impiety and treachery.61

Impiety and treachery (dsAbeia, paraspandhma), as we have seen, are two of the hallmarks of Polybian barbarians. Roman behavior in the Third Romano-Carthaginian War conforms to the behavior of Polybian barbarians in these senses and clearly was far removed from the uprightness of Roman international relations of a bygone day. Moreover, the crowning achievement of Scipio Aemilianus’s career is tainted by the sharp practice and immoral duplicity of the Senate in regard to Carthage. As one of the most historically significant Roman actions recounted at the close of the Histories, 60. Cf. 36.7.3–5 (Suid. s.v. dlogAa). For sensational historiography, its background, and Polybius’s censure, see, for example, Duris, FGrH 76 F 24, 27, 48, T 8; Phylarchus, FGrH 81 F 26, 28, 36, T 2; Plb. 2.16.13–15, 56.1–63.6; 3.47.6–48.12 (fantastic accounts of anonymous historians of Hannibal’s passage of the Alps), 58.9 (paradojologAa and terateAa), with Walbank 1972: 34–38; Meister 1975: 93–126; Sacks 1981: 144–70; cf. Gray 1987. 61. 36.9.9–11; cf. Diod. 32.2.1, 4.5; Plb. 13.3.6–8; 18.34.1–8.

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the Roman sack of a supine Carthage sets the moral degeneration of the Romans as a collectivity in Polybius’s own time in the sharpest relief.62 A similar story of decay and degeneration emerges in Polybius’s account of Achaean affairs. In Greece a general displacement of proper moral imperatives resulted in men indulging in sloth and avarice to such a degree that they neglected their civic duty to marry and rear children, consequently leaving the country in Polybius’s day depopulated (36.17.5–11). The Achaeans themselves, like the Romans, exhibit extremes of moral depravity in these books. As the Achaean Confederation reeled on to its suicidal confrontation with Roman power, Diaeus and Critolaus and their political followers conducted state policy. These men, according to Polybius, were the very worst and most corrupt degenerates (38.10.8–9). Under the leadership of such scoundrels the Achaeans had displayed unreasoning hostility (aDuadeian kaB dpAxueian) to the embassy of Sex. Julius Caesar (38.9.6). During the events leading up to the Roman destruction of Corinth, the Achaean political leadership blundered its way to its own destruction, and the disasters of the Greeks were disgraceful because they were self-inflicted. Polybius consequently states that one might pity the Greeks, but there is no place for a sense of outrage, as they left for those to come after them no plausible argument to support their actions or exonerate them from their errors (38.1.1–9, 3.8–4.9, 8.14–15). Greek conduct, then, brought on a disaster as disgraceful and reproachful as one could imagine. The Greeks displayed both faithlessness (dpistAan) and a lack of manliness (dnandrAan), forfeiting any claim to honor. Worst of all, as we have noted, they were the authors of their own ruin.63 In spring 146 the demagogue Critolaus appealed to the mob at the Achaean assembly at Corinth. Polybius employs all of his aristocratic class biases in his depiction of that day’s Achaean assembly, which directed unwarranted insult and abuse at the Roman embassy dispatched by Q. Caecilius Metellus (38.10.1–13.9). Critolaus, playing upon the emotions and irrational passions of this motley collection of the dregs of Greek society, denounced his political opponents who held balanced views, cajoled the assembly into granting him despotic powers, and persuaded the majority to vote for an insane resolution for war, nominally against Sparta, but in reality a declaration against Rome (38.12.7–13.1). After Critolaus’s demise, his successor Diaeus took demagogic practices in Achaean politics to new heights. He 62. For individual examples of Roman moral failings in these books, see, for example, 31.1.1 (Ti. Sempronius Gracchus); 31.6.1–6 (C. Sulpicius Galus); 36.14.1–5 (M. Licinius, A. Hostilius Mancinus, and L. Manlius Vulso); 39.1.1–12 (A. Postumius Albinus). 63. 38.3.7–13; cf. 38.16.9–10. The text is a difficult and lacunose passage from the Constantinian MS M (Vat. Gr. 73), De Sententiis; see Walbank HC 3.47; cf. Moore 1965: 132–33. On the tone of the excerpt, see Petzold 1969: 48–49; Eckstein 1995b: 219–21.

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engaged in radical measures that were anathema to aristocratic Greek and Roman statesmen, exacting contributions for their common destruction from the wealthy, setting some twelve thousand slaves free, arming them, and sending them to Corinth. Carried away by some irrational torrent, Polybius tells us, some people aimlessly followed the mad lead of Diaeus, some traduced their friends or played the suppliant’s role, while others at the extreme of desperation ended their lives. All Greece was subject to mental imbalance (38.15.1–16.12). As Critolaus had done, Diaeus and his followers turned the people against right-thinking statesmen (17.1–18.12). The Achaeans in the 140s, then, were subject to irrational forces, and their mindless decisions at that time led to their own annihilation. Their leaders, principally Critolaus and Diaeus, were unprincipled demagogues who aroused the thumos of the mob and charted the state on a course to certain destruction. They conform to the typology of ochlocracy as Polybius presents it in book 6 (9.1–9). Insofar as their behavior was passionately unreflecting and irrational, the Achaeans had also taken on the characteristics of Polybian barbarians, and it is noteworthy that the historian states that one could not easily find such mindlessness and lack of judgment among barbarians as the Achaean people exhibited at this time (38.18.7).

The transmission of the text suggests a certain structure of analysis based on the Excerpta Antiqua (books 7–18) and the Constantinian excerpts (books 20–39), but the historian’s own pronouncements on his conception of his work suggest three different, broad units: books 7–15, 16–29, and 30–39. Within these units, we find signs of deterioration in Greek and Roman individual and collective behaviors, and across the units this degeneration becomes increasingly pronounced. In books 7–15 we see signs of corruption among both Greeks and Romans, but here the individuals Scipio Africanus and Philopoemen shine through as somewhat anachronistic examples of Roman and Achaean virtues. Books 16–29 do not include such extraordinary individuals, whose moral exempla serve to provide a sustained mitigation of the encroaching degeneracy in the Roman and Achaean polities. In these books we find in Aristaenus’s policy a retreat from the ancestral Achaean noble political virtues as the primary directives of state policy and the new Achaean political orientation’s total perversion in Callicrates’ complete submission to Roman will. In a parallel retrogression, Roman actions in these books reveal a far different polity from that which we encounter in books 1–3. In books 30–39, Scipio Aemilianus serves by way of contrast to underscore the depravity and licentiousness of Roman contemporary youth, and Polybius indirectly undercuts his benefactor’s crowning achievement, the destruction of Rome’s arch-enemy Carthage, by relaying Greek views on the Roman action as a heinous and barbarous act of aggression. As for the

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Achaeans, they were overtaken by a fit of collective madness and plunged headlong to their own annihilation. In sum, we find in the fragmentary books a parallel retrograde development both at Rome and in Achaea. Taken as a whole, the study of Polybius’s historical narrative in part 2 yields important general points for the contextual interpretation that follows in part 3. The political analysis of book 6 treats the Roman state more or less as a Greek polis, couching the discussion of Rome in Greek political terminology and omitting Roman social institutions, such as extensive clientelae as integral to the practice of politics at Rome, which would be alien to Greek conceptions. Yet there are some indications that Rome differs in fundamental ways from Greek practices, such as in the account of the Roman aristocratic funeral or the hyper-logismos of the layout of the Roman military encampment. These passages serve to place the Roman politeia in a favorable, and enviable, light. But for the most part the Roman state is to be understood in terms of the categories of Greek political theory, and Rome is made out to look like an extraordinary Greek polis. We see both Rome and the Achaean Confederation at their prime in the narration of books 1–5. Here both states generally act in a rational manner, while their opponents often are, like Polybius’s barbarians, the slaves of thumos. But all states are subject to decay. Rome and Achaea are no exceptions, and in their historical evolution both peoples, in their departure from logismos, began to gravitate toward the degenerate state of the Polybian barbarian. We see this ineluctable degeneration in the fragmentary books, with an increasing fall among Romans and Achaeans, on both an individual and collective level, from earlier political virtue. Polybius most frequently provides this picture of an encroaching deterioration of both Roman and Achaean political structures in his guise as indirect historian; that is, the historical narrative itself conveys the message. But he also intrudes as subjective historian in order to drive home the point, instructing the reader in his own didactic, editorial voice on the true nature and causes of the events he narrates. In terms of Polybius’s politico-cultural system of Hellenism, which finds the cause of collective group characteristics in the formal political and social institutions of the politeia, we may view both his universalizing political theory in book 6 and the parallel trajectories in the historical narrative of Rome and Achaea as exercises in the politics of cultural assimilation. In other words, since the trajectories of Roman and Achaean history are informed by universalizing historical forces to which all peoples are subject, any notions of innate and deep-rooted differences between Greeks and non-Greek Romans would seem to be erased. Polybius’s overriding, universalizing political theory on the causes of collective group characteristics transcends anything that we should think of in terms of ethnicity. Chapter 6 takes up these general observations, situating this “assimilation” of Romans and Achaeans in a Roman aristocratic ideological context

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in order to understand the political import of the narrative patterns studied in part 2. But there we shall also find countercurrents that subvert the large narrative patterns studied here. In terms of the cultural politics of Hellenism, we may call these countercurrents an exercise in the politics of cultural alienation. As we shall see, the political significance of this subtext emerges from consideration of those segments of Polybius’s Greek readership that were hostile to Rome.

pa r t t h r e e

Ideological and Political Contexts

Chapter 6

Collective Representations and Ideological Contexts The agent who “regularizes” his situation or puts himself in the right is simply beating the group at its own game; in abiding by the rules, falling into line with good form, he wins the group over to his side by ostentatiously honouring the values the group honours. pierre bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice

This chapter examines Polybius’s narrative as indirect historiography. I argue that as indirect historian Polybius represents Roman collective character in ways that conform to the ideological predilections of his target audiences, both the Roman senatorial aristocracy and the political elite in Greece, many of whom harbored anti-Roman sentiments. First, I situate the narration of progressive Roman degeneration studied in part 2 within some available Roman aristocratic ideologies, arguing that here Polybius’s representations conform to contemporary Roman aristocratic political ideas. Then, I argue that Polybius, indirectly but also on occasion in his own narrative voice, calls the Hellenism of the Romans into question, subverting the image of Romans as quasi Hellenes in the main lines of his narrative. Here the historian suggests that the Romans may indeed have been barbarians all along, and I shall argue that in so doing Polybius conforms to virulent antiRoman sentiment in Greece in general, and among his compatriots in the Achaean Confederation in particular. Pierre Bourdieu’s statement above is suggestive of my approach in the discussion that follows. In Polybius’s case, however, the situation was complicated by the fact that he was writing for both Roman and Greek readerships, and his Greek and Roman audiences were themselves far from monolithic in their cultural politics. Polybius was “regularizing” his situation before multiple audiences: “philhellenic” Romans who embraced Hellenism; those who, like Cato, took a more reserved approach to Greek culture; and Greeks among whom opinions were very divided on the notion that Rome was a civilized, “Hellenic” city. A contextual approach, taking account of Polybius’s readerships, helps resolve the tensions and seeming incongruities in Polybius’s representations of Romans. Together the politics of cultural assimila173

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tion and cultural alienation with regard to Rome in the Histories constitute a politics of cultural indeterminacy that takes on meaning only when we shift our attention from text to audience. The focus here, therefore, will be upon the interrelationships between Polybius’s representations of Romans and other collectivities and their contemporary Roman and Greek aristocratic ideological contexts.

The Themes of Ancestral Virtue and Contemporary Decline In his account of the Roman constitution, Polybius states that there had been some changes between the Rome of the Hannibalic War period and the imperial city of his own day, but that these changes were on the whole insignificant (6.11.13). Polybius also praises the Roman state insofar as it reached its perfected form through hard experience (6.10.13–14), and he notes that, in comparison with the formally similar “mixed constitution” of Lycurgan Sparta, Rome was superior in its design for empire building (6.50.3–6). Yet elsewhere in book 6 Polybius asserts that Rome had reached its acme during the war against Hannibal, which implies that it had entered a phase of decline in his own day; even Rome in his account cannot escape the ineluctable force of quasi-biological decay to which all states are subject in the anacyclosis-cycle (esp. 6.9.12–14, 51.4, 57.1–10). In chapters 4 and 5 we have seen a large narrative trajectory of steady decline in Roman moral probity. There is no need here for extensive reiteration of the findings of those chapters, but it may be well to highlight some key Polybian passages relevant to our focus here, the themes of ancestral virtue and contemporary decline. Polybius suggests that Roman military virtue preserves but a trace of the old ways (13.3.6–8). He later states that in the period before Rome’s imperial expansion overseas, Roman public officials uniformly exhibited integrity in financial transactions; whereas the best that the historian can say of the Romans of his own day (toP% nPn kairoP%) is that there are many of them who are still able to act uprightly in such matters (18.35.1–2). In recounting Scipio Africanus’s magnanimity toward Carthaginian ambassadors in 203/202, Polybius has Scipio say that he desires to preserve ancestral practices (15.4.11). Both Africanus and Aemilianus emerge in the Polybian account as paragons of Roman ancestral virtue, in sharp contrast with many of their contemporaries, who have fallen away from those high standards of behavior. Polybius explicitly comments on the loss of ancient Roman political principles and the decline of Roman good faith, pistis, in international affairs.1

1. 13.3.7 (drxaAa aEresi%), with Rich 1976: 60 n. 12; 18.35.1–2 (pAsti%), with Dubuisson 1985: 82–85. On Roman degeneration in the later books, cf. Eckstein 1995b: 84–117, 229–33.

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These characterizations of contemporary Romans are a far cry from the evidence of Polybius’s representation of the old Romans in his “archaeology” in book 6, where he underscores the moral sternness of the ancient Romans even in the private sphere, commenting that it was customary for Roman men to kiss their female relatives whenever they met them in order to ascertain whether they had been illicitly drinking wine.2 We have also seen a parallel retrograde development among Greeks in Polybius’s narrative. Greeks of Polybius’s own day have departed from the ways of their ancestors (oC palaioA) in matters of religion to their own detriment (6.56.12–13). The Eleans represented a classic case of collective degeneration (4.73.7–74.8), and in a famous passage on the educative and civilizing functions of flute playing in ancient Arcadia, Polybius chastises the Cynaethaeans for having abandoned this ancestral practice, becoming utterly savage in so doing (4.20.1–21.12). What is important in these passages on societal degeneration, both Greek and Roman, is the fact that Polybius adopts an admonitory tone; the narrative voice aligns itself with ancestral, pristine virtues, from which contemporary society has fallen. As I have argued, Polybius’s vision of Hellenism informs such ancient virtues, whose degeneration takes on the colors of Polybian barbarism.3 This narrative pattern aligns with Roman aristocratic ideology. Indeed, the obsession with the past as a nearly unattainable standard for the present, the deep-seated psychological need to emulate ancestral practices, and the persistent preoccupation with moral decline in contemporary society seem to be so pervasive in Roman society as to constitute one of ancient Rome’s most distinctive characteristics as a historical society. In Roman aristocratic ideology we find constant appeals to the ways of the ancestors (mos maiorum); and Roman politicians referred to radical, revolutionary schemes as “new things,” res novae. Roman senators invoked Rome’s venerable past every time they addressed their colleagues as Quirites or patres conscripti. Roman conservatism emerges in Roman religion, where three ancient priesthoods, the flamen Dialis, the flamen Martialis, and the flamen Quirinalis, represented deities of no particular importance in the periods of the Middle and Late Republic, as well as in the tralatitious nature of Roman law, in which the Twelve Tables, a product of the archaic Roman community, remained formally a part of the mature apparatus of Roman law. The structure of Roman assemblies reflects Rome’s fixation on the past: the curial assembly was retained after the centuriate and 2. 6.11a.4; cf. Gell. NA 10.23 (Cato the Elder); Val. Max. 6.3.9; Plin. NH 14.89–90. 3. On the general idea of decline in Polybius, see Walbank 1980; for the lexical convergence of institutional decay and barbarism in the Histories, see appendix A. The military virtues of Polybius’s oC palaioA were more a romantic ideal than a historical reality, as practices of fraud and deception are well attested even for the archaic and classical periods; see now Krentz 2000.

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tribal assemblies took over most important political functions of state.4 As we have seen, Polybius provides one of the most memorable illustrations of the Roman obsession with the past in his description of the spectacle of the Roman aristocratic funeral, in which Roman youth saw paraded before them high officeholders of their family’s glorious past, against which their own achievements would be measured.5 Livy records many stories of early republican virtues whose origins probably reached back to before Polybius’s time.6 Three are exemplary of the moral excellences of the old Romans: the farmer-statesman L. Quinctius Cincinnatus’s career, M. Furius Camillus’s speech against the proposal to move the seat of Roman power to conquered Veii, and the devotio of P. Decius Mus in battle against the Latins. Cincinnatus’s story was certainly well established by the Late Republic. On the sixteenth day after having assumed the dictatorship Cincinnatus laid down his powers and resumed the unassuming life of the smallholder of some four iugera. Livy remarks that the story of Cincinnatus’s dictatorship is an object lesson to all who value wealth above all other things, as Rome’s fate depended on this man who voluntarily lived the hard life of a farmer. Cincinnatus served as an exemplary republican hero: a simple, hardworking, unpretentious, and abstemious patriot. Livy records that in his time an area was marked out across the Tiber as the “Quinctian Meadows,” site of Cincinnatus’s humble farmstead. According to him, the forfeited bail Cincinnatus had had to pay in the trial of his son thrust the Roman patriot into absolute poverty, which only added further luster to his image as stolid Roman paragon of virtue.7 Now there is a great deal of anachronistic distortion in the transmission of the Cincinnatus story. For example, the idea that a tribune could prosecute a patrician, K. Quinctius, Lucius’s son, before the Decemvirate, and the bail posted by Lucius, three thousand asses, are inconceivable for this period. Yet since both charges K. Quinctius faced were treated in the Twelve Tables, it is a reasonable conjecture that these parts of Cincinnatus’s legend represent an attempt on the part of early republican jurists to legitimate the provisions of the Twelve Tables. This, of course, would mean that the main lines of the story were most likely well known in Polybius’s Rome.8 4. Cf. Enn. Ann. 156 Skutsch: moribus antiquis res stat Romana virisque (“The Roman state stands upon ancient morals and men”). On the “old” Capitoline triad, see briefly Beard, North, and Price 1998: 14–15. Twelve Tables: Cic. Leg. 2.23.59; Liv. 3.34.6–7; cf. Pomponius Dig. 1.8.11: Remus as precedent for the harsh punishment of those who would damage the city’s walls. 5. 6.53; cf. Flower 1996:150. 6. Cf. Liv. 45.37.12 on ancient stories of demagogic politicians (vetera atque audita a parentibus suis); Cornell 1995: 10–11. 7. Sources for Cincinnatus’s dictatorship at MRR 1.39; prata Quinctia: Liv. 3.26.8–9. On the trial of K. Quinctius, see Liv. 3.11.6–13.10. 8. See Ogilvie 1965: 416–23, esp. 416–18.

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M. Furius Camillus is another paradigmatic lesson on virtues of the old Romans, and, like the tradition on Cincinnatus, his story is replete with anachronistic fabrications of later generations. Livy’s story of Camillus’s decisive speech, dissuading the Romans from relocating their seat of power to Veii in the aftermath of the Gallic sack, serves as one of the most poignant illustrations in all of Latin literature of the Roman obsession with the Roman past and Roman tradition. The story seems to be very old; this part of Camillus’s legend probably goes back at least to Ennius’s Annales. According to Livy, Rome’s savior, repeatedly addressing the Senate by the ancient title Quirites, stressed the religious traditions of Rome, coeval with the foundation of the city—some, indeed, even predating the foundation. In his speech Camillus urges his fellow citizens to see to it that every corner of the city is permeated with religion and the gods. He chastises the senators for their departure from ancestral practices. Romans should not abandon the divine sign, which once upon a time (quondam) proclaimed Rome the head of the world and the seat of empire.9 The issue of the transfer of the capital in Camillus’s speech may reflect controversies surrounding C. Gracchus’s proposal to recolonize Carthage in 122 as well as the later struggle of the Social War, in which the confederates renamed Corfinium Italia as the capital of Italy, but the Roman patriot’s emphasis on religion of place and hoary tradition are indeed ancient.10 P. Decius Mus’s self-immolation by devotio provides the quintessential exemplum of subordination of the individual to the common weal. Livy tells the tale of this chapter of the Romans’ fourth-century struggle with the Latins, who had demanded one consulship and half the positions in the Senate. The Romans, of course, found these demands to be unacceptable, and the issue would be determined on the field of battle. The haruspices reported to Decius that the omens for the coming battle were favorable, except that the head on the liver of the sacrificial animal was wounded “on the friendly side” (a familiari parte caesum). Decius responded that it was enough for him that his consular colleague had received favorable omens, and both consuls prepared their troops for battle. When the issue began to turn against the Romans, Decius summoned the pontiff, and through ancient ritual procedure devoted the enemy’s legions and auxiliaries, as well as himself, to infernal, chthonic deities. Thereupon, clad in ritual Gabinian attire, Decius mounted his charger and plunged into the thick of the fray. He fell beneath a rain of blows, and Livy tells us that in that instant the Latin cohorts lost heart while the other consul prepared the reinvigorated triarii for the final push to victory. There could be no greater example of selfless patriotism, 9. Liv. 5.51.1–54.7, with Ogilvie 1965: 741–50; Enn. Ann. 154–55 Skutsch, with commentary. 10. On religion of place in Rome, see now Beard, North, and Price 1998: 167–210.

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and Livy goes on to explain the ancient ritual of the devotio. He wistfully remarks that he records the ancient rite, even though the present day prefers any sort of foreign novelty to ancient, established ways. Decius is an object lesson on the crucial importance in Roman aristocratic ideology for Roman generals to preserve the aristocratic ethos of bravery, selflessness, virtus, and dignitas on the field of battle.11 These stories, and others like them in Livy’s early books, vividly illustrate the moral excellences of early Romans and likely go back to a period in Rome long before Polybius arrived on the scene. Yet this sort of use of Livy is always open to some doubts about the degree to which the text has been contaminated or embellished, either by intermedaries, the so-called middle annalists, or by Livy himself. Yet more direct evidence for Roman preoccupation with the great antiquity of Roman mores in our period is ready to hand. Already in Fabius Pictor we find such concern with the Roman past; the first Roman historian argued for the great antiquity of the procession preceding the ludi Romani.12 Pictor also wrote on the severity of the early Roman family. He admired the strict upholding of propriety in the domestic sphere, noting the old-time Roman matron’s trusted position as guardian of the family wine cellar. A Polybian fragment from the “archaeology” in book 6 refers to these same Roman customs, and Polybius may well have found the material for this discussion in Pictor.13 Other fragments reveal Pictor issuing a moral warning and lauding the strict moral code of early Romans in public and private life, perhaps glancing back to a Roman Golden Age from whose standards contemporary practices had declined.14 We find the same concern with Roman decay in the fragments of the second-century historian L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi. Piso was able to give the exact date, 154, when Roman virtus began to decline, and he concurs with Polybius’s statement, in echo of the elder Cato, that contemporary Roman youth were hopelessly depraved.15 11. Liv. 8.9.1–11.1, with further references at MRR 1.135; replicated by the homonymous son (cos. 295): Liv. 10.28.15–18; cf. Beard, North, and Price 1998: 35–36 and nn. 98–99; Liv. 5.46.2; Serv. ad Aen. 7.612 on “Gabinian cincture.” On devotio, see Latte 1960: 125–26, 203–4. For the overriding importance of the Roman general’s demeanor in battle, regardless of the outcome, see Rosenstein 1990: 114–52. For Roman sacrifices before and during battle, see further Liv. 9.14.4; 27.16.15, 26.13–14; 38.26.1–2; 40.52.4–5. 12. See Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 7.70.1–72.18, with Beard, North, and Price 1998: 40 and nn. 120–23. 13. Q. Fabius Pictor frag. 27 P (Plin. NH 14.89); Plb. 6.11a.4, with Frier [1979] 1999: 240. 14. Q. Fabius Pictor frags. 20, 28 P. Cf. Pictor’s contemporary, C. Aurelius Cotta, consul in 200, who defended an eleven-year-old law on deportatio of troops as a prerequisite for celebrating triumphs by appeal to the maiores: Liv. 31.49.8–11, with Richardson 1975: 61. 15. L. Calpurnius Piso frag. 38 P (Plin. NH 17.244); frag. 40 P (Cic. Fam. 9.22.2); Plb. 31.25.3–8, with Badian 1966: 12–13; see also frag. 8 P (Gell. NA 11.14) on early Roman simplicity; Rawson 1991: 245–71 for the antiquarian interests of the second-century historians L.

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Concern with moral traditionalism is in evidence among Roman statesmen with whom Polybius had close connections. The younger C. Laelius, consul in 140, mentor and friend of Scipio Aemilianus, was frequently in the company of Polybius.16 As praetor in 145 he had opposed the tribune Crassus’s proposal to have the priesthoods filled by popular election.17 In his famous speech De Collegiis, Laelius appealed to Roman religious traditions in citing Numa, and Cicero remarks on the oration’s strikingly archaic diction. We can also detect something of Laelius’s public posture as a moral traditionalist in his remark on food preserved in a fragment of Lucilius, and in Plutarch’s report that in the course of his long life Laelius slept with only one woman, his wife.18 In Polybius’s account, of course, Scipio Aemilianus emerges as a paragon of Roman virtue. Both his handling of the matter of his aunts’ dowries and his magnanimity in the celebration of his father’s funeral revealed Scipio’s uncommon generosity and lofty detachment from financial matters. Aemilianus’s virtues shone forth brilliantly by way of comparison with his contemporaries; he alone seemed to preserve the practices of the maiores.19 There are also clear indications outside of Polybius’s text that Scipio himself cultivated an image of old-time Roman simplicity, discipline, and severity. As part of a famous embassy to the east, Scipio’s entourage was modest, and his austere demeanor revealed the debauched lifestyle of the Ptolemaic ruler Physcon by way of contrast.20 According to Plutarch, Scipio did not go in for ostentatious building projects, he left little silver and gold upon his death, he forbade his military staff to join the rank and file in plundering, he strongly objected to any sort of luxury in his military camp, and he constructed a temple to Virtus in Rome. Moreover, there is evidence that in his censorial speeches he inveighed against luxuria and exhorted the Romans to return ad mores maiorum.21 Scipio may have called up the ancient Roman past in the evocatio of Punic deities and the devotio of the city and its troops in the siege of Carthage, and he may have been responsible in 136, along with L. Furius Philus, for the “rediscovery” of the fetial procedure in the Mancinus affair. Scipio Aemilianus, indeed, appears as a masterly practitioner of Eric Cassius Hemina, Cn. Gellius, and Piso, and 260–67 on Piso’s moralizing fragments. On the Roman theme of contemporary moral decline, see Earl 1961: 41–52 (44: “a senatorial tradition of the second century”); Lintott 1972; Edwards 1993 passim. 16. On the basis of Cic. Resp. 1.21.34. 17. Sources at MRR 1.469–70. For the moral traditionalism and antiquarian interests of Laelius and Aemilianus, I am indebted to Rawson 1991: 80–101. 18. ORF 3 no. 20 frags. 12–16; Lucil. 1235 M; Plut. Cat. Min. 7, with Rawson 1991: 82–85. 19. 31.25.2–30.4; for Scipio’s emulation of his father, Aemilius Paullus, see Rawson 1991: 87. 20. Sources at MRR 1.480–81; cf. Gruen 1984: 714–15; Kallet Marx 1995a: 97 n.1. 21. Severe military discipline in Spain: App. Ib. 85; Plut. Mor. 201b; temple to Virtus: Plut. Mor. 318d; censorial appeals to mos maiorum: ORF 3 no. 21 frag. 13 (Gell. NA 4.20.10).

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Hobsbawm’s “invention of tradition,” and as we shall see in chapter 7, Scipio’s unorthodox, meteoric rise in Roman politics and the concerns this aroused among the Roman senatorial aristocracy may have provided the impetus for his cultivation of such a traditionalist image as political defense and apology.22 M. Porcius Cato was the most dominant figure in Roman political life in the first half of the second century, and throughout his career Cato projected the image of the stern, old-fashioned Roman statesman who observed mos maiorum and rejected newfangled practices as debilitating to Roman virtus. As a man without noble ancestry, Cato represented himself as a hardworking, disciplined Roman in Cincinnatus’s mold, a simple farmer-statesmansoldier, unlike many noble Roman officeholders of his day who possessed imagines but lacked their ancestors’ moral fiber and integrity. Indeed, Plutarch reports that Cato visited the ancient farm of the third-century hero M’. Curius Dentatus, who had administered the final defeat of King Pyrrhus of Epirus and celebrated a triumph over the Samnites and the king. Cato found inspiration in contemplating this man, who had rejected a bribe of gold from a Samnite embassy while sitting at his humble hearth stirring turnips.23 An apparent obsession with the practices of the ancestors is a constant in Cato’s political career. As Scipio Africanus’s quaestor in Sicily and Africa, he complained of the lax discipline in the general’s military camp, and as military tribune in the Antiochene War he performed bravely in the passes of Thermopylae, but again found fault with his superior officer, M’. Acilius Glabrio. Both men, in Cato’s view, had departed from the austere ways of the old-time Roman commanders.24 Those commanders, as in the case of the famous devotio of P. Decius Mus, gave themselves selflessly to the Republic. Cato expressed this communal orientation in the Origines by omitting the names of individual Roman commanders, and he composed a tract entitled Carmen de Moribus, which demonstrates his professed concern with Roman moral fiber.25 Fragments of his speeches, echoed by Polybius,

22. Evocatio and devotio: see Rawson (1991: 93–101), who notes (95 and n. 80) that such an action would plainly recall the famous evocation of Juno from Veii, in a year in which a member of the Furian gens, Camillus, was dictator (redounding to the gloria of Aemilianus’s associate L. Furius Philus), and a Cornelius was master of the horse (MRR 1.87–88); fetials and the foedus Mancinum: Ogilvie 1965: 128 (“a piece of political play-acting”); cf. Astin 1967: 180–82; Rawson 1991: 89–93; and Hobsbawm 1983 for “the invention of tradition.” 23. Plut. Cat. Mai. 2; cf. Cic. Resp. 3.28.40; Sen. 55; Salmon 1967: 6 n. 2. For compatibility of farming and the military life, see Cato, Agr. praef. 4. Ste. Croix 1981: 263 (595) n. 5 assembles passages, both Greek and Roman, on the topos. 24. See MRR 1.307–8, 352, and 354 for sources. 25. See M. Porcius Cato frag. 88 P (Plin. NH 8.11); Nepos Cato 3.4, with Astin 1978: 211–39; 185–86 on the Carmen de Moribus. According to Cic. Resp. 2.1.2, Cato maintained that communal, not individual, excellences made Rome great; see now Eckstein 1997a.

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bemoan the loss of ancestral virtues and rail against effeminacy, lack of military discipline among contemporary Romans, and the debilitating effects of present-day luxuria.26 In his consular year Cato opposed repeal of the lex Oppia, a piece of sumptuary legislation from the darkest hour of the Hannibalic War. The law was carried by the tribune C. Oppius in 215 in the aftermath of Cannae. It imposed restrictions on Roman women in their dress, their possession of gold, and their use of horse-drawn vehicles. In 195 the tribunes M. Fundanius and L. Valerius proposed abrogation of the law, while their colleagues M. and P. Iunius Brutus supported retention. Livy (34.1.1–7) states that this issue aroused the passions of many of the Roman nobility: the Capitoline was filled with supporters and opponents of the bill, and even Roman matrons thronged the approaches to the Forum, entreating the men to eliminate the austere, antiquated law. Livy presents Cato’s oration against repeal of the Oppian law and the rejoinder of the tribune L. Valerius. In this speech Cato chastises his countrymen for allowing the women of the state to mobilize for political purposes. Far different, Livy has Cato say, were the days of old, when the maiores permitted no woman to conduct even personal business without a tutor. Cato says that the Romans had been able to withstand the enticements of Pyrrhus’s agent, Cineas, because in those times there was no corrupting luxuria among them; but at the present time, Roman women would be filling the streets to receive Cineas’s gifts. L. Valerius’s retort emphasizes that the law under question is in no way a piece of legislation of ancient venerability; indeed, it is a mere twenty years old. He furthers his argument by appeal to the maiores: the ancestors called such womanly adornments the woman’s world (mundum muliebrem). As always we must use such evidence from Livy with caution, but the appeal to the Roman past is consonant with the tenor of Cato’s entire political career, and it is historically faithful to the style of second-century Roman aristocratic politics.27 Nowhere did Cato display his zeal for the restoration of the ancient Roman ways more sternly than in his austere and conscientious measures on behalf of the regimen morum during his censorship.28 Cato and his colleague, L. Valerius Flaccus, undertook a full-scale attack against the luxuria that, in their view, was turning Romans away from their ancestral practices. Cato 26. See ORF 3 no. 8 frags. 43, 69–70, 78–79, 94–96, 114–16, 133, 145, 163, 177, 185, 201, 204–5, 224, 246, 253–54; Plb. 31.25.5a–6; 39.1.1–12; on Cato’s own parsimonius lifestyle, see ORF 3 no. 8 frags. 128, 132, 173–75. 27. See Liv. 34.2.1–7.15; cf. Plut. Cat. Mai. 18. Some years later Cato would lend his support to another sumptuary law, the lex Orchia, probably of the year 182: ORF 3 no. 8 frags. 139–46; for salutary warnings on Livian distortions of Cato’s speech, see Astin 1978: 25–26; Gruen 1992: 69–70. Note Polybius’s description of the degeneration from monarchy to tyranny, where there are pronounced distinctions in dress and luxury (6.7.5–8; cf. 6.8.4–5). 28. Censorship: MRR 1.374–75; Astin 1978: 78–103, 324–28; select bibliography at 78 n. 1.

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delivered a speech in his censorial year de vestitu et vehiculis, a fragment of which mentions the constancy of his own personal character and the fact that any departure from his established practices would be grounds for losing the honors bestowed upon him.29 Plutarch reports that the Roman people erected a statue to Cato in the temple of Salus for his censorial duties, upon which they inscribed a legend to the effect that Cato had restored the Roman state at a time when it was about to fall.30 Cato’s political orientation toward the precedents of the Roman past amplified a well-established Roman political tradition, leaving a deep imprint on the practice of politics among the Roman senatorial aristocracy. Livy’s account of the outbreak of the Third Macedonian War, probably derived from Polybius, provides an example. According to Livy, the Romans had held off Perseus with empty talk of peace while they made preparations to crush Macedonia. A portion of the Senate, however, engaged a Catonian politics of appeal to mos maiorum in their dissent from this policy. They seized the moral high ground in presenting themselves, in contradistinction to their younger colleagues, as mindful of the ancient Roman ways.31 This stance echoed the political style of Cato, who had disdained public portraits, stating that he preferred his deeds to stand as his monuments. And in a spirit similar to Cato’s pithy statement, P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica and M. Popillius Laenas, censors in 158, proposed to take down all statues in Rome not set up by a formal act of state.32 Hellenism played a role in Roman aristocratic debates on decay of contemporary society and loss of ancestral virtue. Romans represented Greek ways as a threat to the moral fabric of their society. Livy attributes the invasion of corrupting avaritia and luxuria from the Greek east to the triumph of Cn. Manlius Vulso. Scipio Aemilianus invoked the derogatory Greek word cinaedus in his attack on P. Sulpicius Galus, and he also made disparaging remarks on the Greek sambuca and psalterion and the dances that accompanied them. Polybius echoes the idea, although he seems to be inconsistent as to the inception of this corruption from abroad. At one point he remarks that the Romans maintained their own mores until their transmarine wars, which technically would place us back in the third century; elsewhere he says that Roman table luxury originated in the aftermath of the war against 29. See ORF 3 no. 8 frag. 93. 30. See Plut. Cat. Mai. 19, with Astin 1978: 103 n. 89; cf. Sen. Ep. 87.9. 31. See Liv. (P) 42.43.1–3, 47.1–12, with Nissen 1863: 252; cf. Plb. 13.3.2–8; Briscoe 1964; Walbank 1985: 160–61. On the ideological divide between elders and youth in Roman political discourse, see Bonnefond 1982; Bonnefond-Coudry 1989: 605–17. 32. See Plut. Cat. Mai. 19; cf. ORF 3 no. 8 frags. 48, 95–96; censors of 158: L. Calpurnius Piso frag. 37 P (Plin. NH 34.30); MRR 1.445–46. For the growing number of public statues to individuals in our period and the censorial edict, see Gruen 1992: 84–130, esp. 121 and n. 186; cf. Rawson 1991: 263–64 on Piso’s interest in monuments.

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Perseus. And here he explicitly states that the Romans have been infected by Greek laxity (eDxAreia tpn \Ellanvn).33 Cato looms large in modern discussions of the relationship between Roman moral decline and the impact of Hellenism on Roman society, yet it is difficult to assess the nature of Cato’s views on the Greeks and their culture. Scholars have viewed Cato as a philhellene, a staunch opponent of Hellenism, or as a crafty manipulator of Greek culture in the service of his own politics and the creation of a Roman cultural identity.34 Much of the confusion arises from Cato’s own seemingly contradictory expressions. On the one hand, Cato learned from the Pythagorean Nearchus at Tarentum, he admired Thucydides and Demosthenes, he praised Epaminondas, Themistocles, and Pericles, and he was inspired by the heroics of the Spartan king Leonidas at Thermopylae in the Persian Wars. Yet Cato also pronounced all Greek doctors to be murderers conspiring against Romans, he mocked Greek culture generally, and he warned that its presence could well endanger the moral fabric of Roman society.35 One way out of the impasse of these seemingly contradictory messages is to read Cato’s statements in terms of the Roman ideological position we have been studying.36 It was certainly contemporary Greek decadence that Cato found distasteful in the lifestyle of Africanus, and he also directed vitriolic barbs at a certain tribune, M. Caelius, who demeaned himself as a Roman aristocrat by reciting Greek verses. These attacks were in the same vein as Cato’s celebrated excoriations of the philhellenes C. Acilius and A. Postumius Albinus.37 The crucial point here is that we are dealing with contemporary Romans aping contemporary Greeks and their cultural practices. There is no indication that Cato cast aspersions in his attacks upon Greeks of the distant past.38 On the contrary, 33. Vulso: Liv. 39.6.7; MRR 1.369; Scipio: ORF 3 no. 21 frag. 17; Macrob. Sat. 3.14.6–7, with Lintott 1972: 628; Polybius: 18.35.1–2; 31.25.3–8; see below for discussion of the Polybian ambiguity. 34. See Astin 1978: 157–81; Gruen 1992: 52–83 for the latter position; cf. Henrichs 1995: 244–54. 35. See Plut. Cat. Mai. 2 (Nearchus, Thucydides, Demosthenes); 8 (Epaminondas, Pericles, Themistocles); 13; M. Porcius Cato frag. 83 P, with Ferrary 1988: 107 and n. 200 (Leonidas and Thermopylae); Plut. Cat. Mai. 23 (warnings against Greeks). 36. See Cato, Agr. praef. 1.3; ORF 3 no. 8 frags. 18, 58, 173, 200, 206 for further examples of Cato’s appeals to maiores nostri. 37. Caelius: ORF 3 no. 8 frag. 115; cf. Gell. NA 11.2.5 for a low Roman esteem of the ars poetica; Acilius: Plut. Cat. Mai. 22; Albinus: Plb. 39.1.1–12; Plut. Cat. Mai. 12, with Gruen 1992: 55; cf. A. Postumius Albinus, FGrH 812 F 1b. 38. Among the “ancients,” Cato condemns Socrates and Isocrates (Plut. Cat. Mai. 20, 23), but the former, according to Plutarch’s account of Cato’s views, was a loquacious windbag and subverter of established law and custom, while the latter was a sedentary pamphleteer removed from active political life. These criticisms represent standard Catonian themes and do not damage Cato’s respect for old Greece: Cato found fault with these men’s characteristics, not the fact

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the elder Roman statesman admired the Greeks in their Golden Age, before the enervating effects of luxuria had corrupted them. Indeed, Plutarch reports that Cato condemned Scipio Africanus for corrupting native Roman simplicity (tbn patrion eDtAleian) and that he admired the Athenians of old; indeed, Cato could even derive Roman origins from Achaea and Sabine origins from Lacedaemon.39 There is nothing to stand in the way of, and a great deal of clarity to be gained from, reading Cato’s derogatory remarks on Greeks and Greek culture as pertaining exclusively to the degenerate Graeculi of his own day. Such an interpretation would conform to the Roman aristocratic tendency to revere the past and regret the present. Cato’s position regarding Greek culture, then, would prefigure the views of Cicero in a later generation, who could simultaneously extol Greece, and particularly Athens, as the birthplace of civilization and sneer at contemporary “Asiatic” Greeks.40 Polybius’s narrative conforms to this Roman aristocratic ideology of the virtues of an ancestral past and the shortcomings of contemporary society. Romans perform in exemplary fashion in the early books as a collectivity; it is only in the later books that we see pronounced signs of a falling away from the standards of the Roman past, both collectively and individually. Polybius’s statement that corruption sets in after long-established prosperity and undisputed hegemony have weakened a state also is consonant with Roman ideas on the value of a strong opponent in preserving moral integrity, the metus hostilis, as well as with Roman notions on the enervating effects of luxuria.41 Likewise, we have seen a parallel devolution among Greeks, and particularly among those who mattered most for Polybius, the members of the Achaean Confederation. In the Roman aristocratic ideological context of ancestral virtue and contemporary decline, Polybius’s narrative demonstrates that the that they were Greeks; contra Gruen (1992: 63), who discounts the division between “good old Greeks” and “bad new Greeks” on this slim evidence. 39. See Plut. Cat. Mai. 3 (Scipio in gymnasia and theaters); Athenians: Plut. Cat. Mai. 12 (palaioB \AuhnaPoi); Cato, Rome, and Achaea: Dion. Hal. Rom. Ant. 1.11.1; Sabines’ Lacedaemonian origin: Serv. Auc. ad Aen. 8.638. 40. Old Greece: Cic. De Or. 1.13; Brut. 26; Flacc. 62–63 (Athens’s past reputation holds up the present-day, broken Greece); Ad Q. Fr. 1.1.27–28, with Ferrary 1988: 511–16 (Greece as birthplace of humanitas); present-day Greece: Ad Q. Fr. 1.1.16 (contemporary Greeks who would emulate old-time Greeks); Flacc. 9–12, 16–19, 36, 60–66, 100 (lowly “Asiatic” Greeks; Flaccus and his supporters represent the “real and true Greece”), with Ste. Croix 1981: 310. See references at Gruen 1992: 62 nn. 74–75; 225 n. 5. 41. Plb. 6.57.5–9. On the metus hostilis theme in the famous debates between Cato and Scipio Nasica on the destruction of Carthage, see Errington 1972: 260–66 and references to modern works at 296 n. 12; for perceptive comments on Roman concerns about corrupting luxuria as it related to magnificent building projects, see Edwards 1993: 137–72. It is noteworthy in this context that in his criticism of A. Postumius Albinus, Polybius conforms to the Roman aristocratic values of austere self-discipline and rejection of frivolities in castigating the Roman for his love of pleasure and aversion to toil (39.1.10–11: filadono% rn kaB fygapono%).

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historian is of the same conservative traditionalism that had made Rome a great state, in sharp contrast to the Graeculi of his own day and the vast majority of contemporary Roman youth. A closer examination of the idea of the Polybian descent into barbarism as a result of institutional decay helps us to situate Polybius’s depiction of Romans and Achaeans in another important Roman ideological context.

Demagogic Politics in the Roman Historiographical Tradition For Polybius, societal degeneration culminates in demagogic politicians and mob rule, an idea that emerges clearly in his discussion of the deleterious effects of long-established prosperity. He goes on to describe the crucial role the common people play in this development: As these defects go on increasing, the beginning of the change for the worse will be due to love of office and the disgrace entailed by obscurity, as well as to extravagance and purse-proud display; and for this change the populace (c dpmo%) will be responsible when, on the one hand, they think they have a grievance against certain people who have shown themselves grasping, and when, on the other hand, they are puffed up by the flattery of others who aspire to office. For now, stirred to fury and swayed by passion in all their counsels (DjorgisueB% kaB uymu panta boyleyameno%), they will no longer consent to obey or even to be the equals of the rulers, but rather will appropriate the state’s resources (ppn kaB tb plePston) for themselves. When this happens, the state will change its name to the finest sounding of all, freedom and democracy, but will change its nature to the worst thing of all, mob-rule (dxlokratAan).42

Polybius’s remark on the discrepancy between political labels and political realities prompts a statement on terminology. In what follows I refer to Polybius’s antipopulist stances or his aversion to ocholocracy or the corrupted democracy. We need such precision because by Polybius’s day demokratia had become an elastic term with little analytical power or descriptive force. It meant little more than a state having some measure of autonomy against the Hellenistic monarchies, and it is illuminating that Polybius can refer to the Achaean Confederation as a democracy and Plutarch can call the elder Cato a man of the people, dhmotika%.43 Indeed, the Thessalian 42. 6.57.6–9, trans. Paton with slight modification. 43. See Plb. 2.38.6–7, 41.5–6, 42.3, 44.6; 4.1.5; 11.13.5–8; 22.8.6; 23.12.8–9, with Musti 1967: 158; Plut. Cat. Mai. 11, with Astin 1978: 66–67. On the meaning of demokratia in Polybius’s time, see Walbank HC 1.221–23; Ste. Croix 1981: 80, 312–15; Kallett Marx 1995a: 208; cf. Meiksins Wood 1994 on the elasticity of the word democracy in modern times. Lehmann 1967: 377–85 defends Polybius’s use of demokratia to describe the Achaean Confederation; but see Musti 1967, esp. 155–70, for a more complex Polybian usage of the term.

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League, which Flamininus had reorganized along timocratic lines in 194, could appeal to the Senate in 184/183 as a democratic state,44 and in a bilingual dedication of the Lycian League to the Capitoline Jupiter in Rome, dating probably to the 160s, the “ancestral democracy” (c patrio% dhmokratAa) becomes in Latin the “privilege of the ancestors” (maiorum leibert[as]).45 For these reasons, then, it is best to insist on more precise terms such as ochlocracy, the corrupted democracy, or mob rule in discussing the Polybian democratic state in its radicalized form. In book 6 Polybius’s contempt for the multitude, or plethos, in every state is plain to see. The corrupted democracy is parasitic (9.8); the common people at Rome pose a danger to the Senate’s traditional power and authority (16.3–5); and, as we have seen, the breakdown of the “mixed constitution” will result in a violent and impulsive popular sovereignty. Polybius describes the passage from democracy to ochlocracy or cheirokratia more fully than the degeneration of the other simple constitutional forms, and he explicitly states that Carthage lost the Hannibalic War because the popular element there had begun to dominate the state (51.6). The decay of institutional structures, it is worth reiterating here, was for Polybius the prime causal determinant in the outcome of the war; and the savagery and irrational, impulsive behavior of Polybius’s corrupted democracy in book 6 is very similar to the historian’s description of the societal characteristics resulting from institutional negligence in Achaean Cynaetha in book 4.46 Nowhere in book 6 is Polybius’s distrust and loathing of the popular element clearer than in his discussion of the Roman approach to religion. Here the historian admires the ways in which the Roman aristocracy manipulates the commons through religious superstition (6.56.6–15). We find the same fear and loathing of demagogic leaders and a politically mobilized commons in the historical narrative proper. Polybius, as subjective historian, echoes the political ideas in book 6 in admiring the abilities of Scipio Africanus and Lycurgus in handling religion as a political instrument to curb the masses (10.2.10–13), and he states that a concession may be made to untruth in the historian’s work in matters pertaining to the common people’s belief in the gods (16.12.9). In condemning the demagogue Molpagoras, Polybius states that the people of Cius were responsible for their misfortunes because of their own stupidity and evil form of government.47 Polybius disparagingly

44. See Liv. 34.51.6 (194); Syll.3 613 A, lines 3–4, 19. 45. CIL XII 725; IG XIV 986; IGRR 1.61; OGIS 551; ILS 31, with Musti 1967: 161 n. 16; Ste. Croix 1981: 322 and n. 48. 46. 6.9.1–9; 4.17.4–5, 19.13–21.12 (Cynaetha); Walbank HC 1.657–58; Martínez-Lacy 1991: 87–88. 47. See 15.21.1–8; cf. 20.6.1–5 (Opheltas and socioeconomic disturbances in Boeotia); 24.7.1–8 (Chaeron courts the mob at Sparta).

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comments on the manual laborers and artisans who attended the assembly of the Achaean Confederation at Corinth in spring of 146; this motley assembly was incapable of listening to reason, and its irrational passions were aroused to fever pitch by the demagogue Critolaus.48 As we have seen in chapter 4, Romans as a collectivity emerge in the early books of the Histories as exemplars of Hellenic virtues of order, discipline, and the exercise of logismos, in contradistinction to their opponents, Illyrians, Gauls, and, to a lesser extent, Carthaginians, among whom the reign of thumos predominates. There are indeed very few passages in these early books in which Polybius explicitly criticizes the Romans as a collectivity in sharp language. In his account of the First Romano-Carthaginian War, he censures the Romans for their stubbornness against both men and the forces of nature (1.37.8–10), and in his discussion of the causes of the Hannibalic War, he states that the seizure of Sardinia and the increased war indemnity imposed upon defeated Carthage in the aftermath of the first war were unjust acts on Rome’s part (3.28.1–2; cf. 3.15.10, 30.4). In other passages in these books in which the historian is either critical or condemnatory of the Romans, the historian directs the reader’s attention either to the Roman multitude or individuals who are portrayed as demagogues. In Polybius’s representation, in the preliminaries to the First RomanoCarthaginian War, the narrative is vague, allowing for a reading in which the Roman commons, the plethos, seduced by the prospects for plunder offered by the consuls, voted to send aid to the Mamertines, thus commencing the extension of Roman power beyond Italy. In Polybius’s view, populist leaders at Rome brought disaster upon the state. M. Minucius Rufus opposed Cunctator’s moderate policy, which would prove to be Rome’s salvation, by appealing to the people. After a minor success, the Roman commons were so elated that they invested Minucius with dictatorial power equal to that of Fabius. Polybius explicitly states that Minucius was puffed up by the people’s flattery (parvrmauh . . . katatolmpn). In the area around Gerunium in Apulia Hannibal was quick to exploit the Roman commander’s rashness and impulsive ambition. Rufus impetuously endangered his troops in exposing them to Hannibal’s ambuscade; only Fabius’s intervention saved the situation.49 Book 3 closes with the disaster at Cannae. According to Polybius, the consul C. Terentius Varro won office as a result of popular dissatisfaction with the conduct of the war. This man bears the brunt of the responsibility for the Roman debacle in the Polybian account. Varro is linked to the plethos in the preliminaries to the engagement, and he goes on to disgrace himself in headlong flight from the 48. See 38.10.6–8, 11.7–13.9. On Polybius’s dim view of the multitude, see further 10.25.6; 33.20; Welwei 1966; Eckstein 1995b: 129–40; Champion 2004. 49. See 3.90.6, 94.9–10, 103.1–105.11; for further sources, see MRR 1.243; Walbank HC 1.432.

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field of battle.50 C. Flaminius, whom Polybius roundly condemns as a rash demagogue, provides another case in point. The historian represents Flaminius as a radical populist leader whose land-redistribution scheme in Picenum initiated Roman degeneration.51 Minucius Rufus, Terentius Varro, and C. Flaminius are Roman exemplars of a Polybian typological character, the demagogic, would-be social reformer who proposes cancellation of debts and redistribution of land. We frequently meet this type among Polybius’s Greek historical agents, and the historian regularly expresses his dislike for such men. We have already had occasion to mention Molpagoras of Cius and the Achaean demagogue Critolaus, but there are several other characters in the Histories conforming to this negative Polybian typology. Polybius castigates the Spartan demagogues Cleomenes III and Nabis.52 The historian condemns the demagogic policies of Cheilon and Chaeron at Sparta; he states that at the beginning of his reign Perseus canceled debts, while Antiochus Epiphanes mingled with the multitude, failing to observe the proper boundaries his station imposed. The Achaean leader Diaeus armed slaves, made exactions against the wealthy, and caused the people to lose their ability to exercise logismos.53 Rome’s victory over Antiochus III, according to the historian, cut short the designs of revolutionaries in Boeotia. On the other hand, Polybius’s heroes eschew this politics: Philopoemen did not court popular favor (23.12.8–9), and Scipio Aemilianus did not follow the practice of his contemporaries in courting the favor of the populace in the law courts (31.29.8–10). These views on the masses, of course, come as no surprise from a historian who was a representative of the landowning aristocracy of Megalopolis.54 Moreover, contempt for the masses is a commonplace in Greek literature. Homer approvingly sings of the noble Odysseus beating the upstart commoner Thersites into submission at the inception of the Greek literary tradition. Plato indicted the democratic constitution and the democratic man. For him the radical democratic state is a sort of supermarket of constitutions;

50. See 3.112.4, 116.13. Polybius’s account may have been in part motivated by a desire to absolve L. Aemilius Paullus, grandfather of Scipio Aemilianus; see Briscoe 1989: 51–52. 51. See 2.21.8; cf. 2.33.8–9; 3.80.3, 84.4–5; according to Zonar. 8.20, the Senate denied Flaminius a triumph as consul in 223, but the people authorized it in the face of senatorial opposition; cf. Rosenstein 1990: 58 and n. 11; 77–78 and n. 74 for sources and discussion of Flaminius flouting Roman religious traditions. 52. Cleomenes: 2.47.3, with Mendels 1981; Nabis: 13.6.1–8.7; cf. Liv. 34.31.1–19, esp. 14–19 (195), with Mendels 1979. 53. Cheilon: 4.81.1–11; Chaeron: 24.7.1–8; Perseus: 25.3.1–8, esp. 3–5; cf. 27.10.1–2 (ochlos favors Perseus); Epiphanes: 26.1a.1–2, 1.1–14; Diaeus: 38.15.1–16.11; cf. 38.17.1–3 (Diaeus gives the allegedly pro-Roman embassy of Andronidas over to the ochlos), with Ste. Croix 1981: 230. 54. Cf. Plut. Cleom. 16: Aratus condemned Cleomenes for abolition of wealth and alleviation of poverty; on Polybius’s class biases, see Mendels 1982.

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under this form of government (if one can even call it that), the common people act as the proverbial bull in the china shop, trampling over anything standing in the way of satisfying their irrational desires of the moment. For Aristotle the masses, in contradistinction to men of culture and practical affairs, lead a slavish sort of life suitable for cattle.55 Extreme democracy is ochlocracy, or mob rule, in the eyes of Plato and Aristotle, and for both it is a short step from this degeneration of the politeia into tyranny. Indeed, Aristotle notes that most tyrants began their careers as demagogues, slanderously inciting the masses against the notables (gnarimoi).56 Polybius’s hostility to radical democratic politics conforms to the main lines of this tradition.57 Roman literature of course grew up in the shadow of Greek literature, and we must give due consideration to the notion that whenever we find this same sort of hostility toward extreme democracy in our Roman sources, Roman authors may be to some extent modeling Greek predecessors.58 Yet in this case Roman literary debts to Greece can provide only a partial explanation. Extant Roman authors are consistently and outspokenly hostile in their condemnation of radical populist politics, and, as we shall see in chapter 7, Roman political behavior in Greece in the second century suggests historical substance behind the ideology. We find an example of Roman disdain of radical democratic political practices in Cicero’s views on constitutional attempts to ensure equal political privilege for all. On this topic it is true that the Greek literary tradition provided precedents for a notion of proportional justice according to which political “equality,” understood as political privilege and access to power, was calibrated to financial gradations, in effect resulting in timocracy as the preferred sort of polity.59 Yet, as I have stressed, looking to Greek precedents cannot provide a satisfactory explanation. It is only in the context of the strongly oligarchic orientation of the Roman senatorial aristocracy that we can fully understand passages such as that in De Re Publica in which Cicero has Scipio Aemilianus make the remarkable statement that “equality of rights itself is unequal and unjust” (ipsa aequabilitas est iniqua).60 The evidence of Cicero, then, illustrates the Roman aversion and 55. See Hom. Il. 2.211–78; Pl. Resp. 555b–62a; Arist. EN 1095b19–31. 56. See Pl. Resp. 562a4–64a9; Arist. Pol. 1310b9–16, 1312b5–6 (c dhmokratAa c teleytaAa tyrannA% Dstin), with Ste. Croix 1981: 69–80. 57. Jones 1953 remains a valuable survey of the question, assembling the scant evidence for democratic ideology in extant Greek authors of oligarchic sympathies. Erskine (1990) argues that the early Stoa espoused democratic politics, but he builds his case largely on conjecture; for example, there is no way of knowing for certain, as Erskine suggests, that Zeno’s Politeia was an explicitly democratic treatise. 58. E.g., Cicero’s paraphrase of Pl. Resp. 562c–63e at Resp. 1.42.65 fin.–43.68. 59. See Harvey 1965 for Greek precedents. 60. Cic. Resp. 1.27.43, 34.53; cf. 2.22.39–40 (Servius Tullius’s centuriate assembly), with Fantham 1973; cf. Ste. Croix 1981: 426.

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hostility to extreme democracy, as well as the notion that this dangerous political form was a product of Greece (a point taken up in chapter 7). Three figures in the annalistic tradition on early Rome serve as exemplars of the Roman demagogue who would subvert republican government into tyranny by corrupting the common people: Sp. Cassius Vecellinus, Sp. Maelius, and M. Manlius Capitolinus.61 Cassius, as consul for 486, played the demagogue according to the tradition, and he aimed at nothing less than tyranny.62 Livy records that he was the first to propose a land-redistribution scheme at Rome, and the historian has the rival consul Verginius charge that Cassius’s lex agraria was intended as a road to monarchy.63 One tradition has Cassius’s father put him to death for his revolutionary designs, consecrating his son’s property to Ceres; another has the quaestors Caeso Fabius and Lucius Valerius bring him to trial for treason (perduellio), and the people condemn him and pull down his home in the space before the temple of Tellus. The elder Pliny reveals that a version of the story was in the Annales of L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi, tribune in 149 and consul in 133, and a contemporary of Polybius. According to Piso, during the consulates of M. Aemilius Lepidus and C. Popillius Laenas in 158, the censors P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica and M. Popillius Laenas removed all statues from the Forum except for those set up by a resolution of the people or Senate (populi aut senatus sententia). They melted down a statue said to have been that of Sp. Cassius, who had aspired to monarchy (regnum adfectaverat). What is important here is the fact that Piso, close to the events, recorded a symbolically charged political act of Roman censors in the early 150s, whereby they destroyed a statue alleged to have been that of the earliest demagogic would-be tyrant in the tradition on the Roman Republic.64 The Roman historiographical tradition relays this character type, the revolutionary, demagogic politician who aspires to tyranny, in the similar tale of Sp. Maelius in 439. As Livy presents the story, Maelius was an ambitious eques who, in attempting to seduce the plebs by means of offering free grain distributions, had set his sights on kingship (regnum). L. Minucius informed the Senate of Maelius’s revolutionary designs, and L. Quinctius Cincinnatus as dictator entrusted his master of the horse, C. Servilius Ahala, with the suppression of Maelius. Dionysius of Halicarnassus reports a variant tradition, less plausible to him, which has no mention of Quinctius as dictator and has

61. On the three would-be tyrants, see Lintott 1970 and, briefly, 1999: 35–36. 62. For sources, see MRR 1.20; RE 3.2, cols. 1749–53 (Münzer). 63. See Liv. 2.41.6 (regno viam fieri); cf. 2.41.9 (propter suspicionem insitam regni); Diod. 11.37.7; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 8.69.3–4. 64. See L. Calpurnius Piso frag. 37 P; MRR 1.445–46 for the censorship (159). Ogilvie 1965: 338 believes that Cic. Resp. 2.35.60, which has Cassius striving for kingship by currying the favor of the people, represents the oldest version of the story, ultimately deriving from Fabius Pictor.

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Servilius dispatch Maelius as a private citizen acting in the public interest. A. W. Lintott has argued, convincingly in my view, that this represents the earliest strand of the tradition, free of Gracchan-era accretions, which reaches back to the mid-second century, and indeed probably to the early part of the century. Dionysius states that he found this version in the work of Piso, and by an easy emendation, in the work of the early annalist L. Cincius Alimentus as well.65 As in the story of Cassius, Sp. Maelius had posed the most pernicious threat to republican government, the demagogue who would corrupt the people. M. Manlius Capitolinus provides yet another instance of the typology. Q. Fabius Pictor and Q. Ennius, Polybius’s predecessors, and L. Cassius Hemina, Polybius’s contemporary, all knew some version of the story of the Gallic sack of Rome, in which Manlius figures prominently in the received tradition, along with the sacred geese, as Rome’s savior.66 According to the tradition as it is preserved in Livy, things soon went awry, and Manlius appealed to the multitude in a bid for tyranny at Rome. It is indeed difficult in the case of Manlius’s tale to separate the original story from later annalistic accretions, as, except for a few hints in other sources, we must work solely from Livy’s version of the events. Indeed, an early strand of the legend, as O. Skutsch demonstrated, has the Gauls take the Capitol, along with the rest of the city, without a hint of Manlius and the sacred geese.67 Livy’s story clearly has elements deriving from later annalists; for instance, it seems that they moved Manlius’s trial from the year 385 to 384 in order to incorporate the hero Camillus, a military tribune with consular power in that year, into the story; and Livy has the anachronistic use of a senatus consultum ultimum to make Manlius’s punishment an official act of state rather than an example of private violence.68 But the same themes that we have seen in the stories of Maelius and Cassius emerge here as well. Livy states that Manlius planned revolution (6.18.3: novandarum rerum consilia) and posed as the patron of the 65. See Lintott 1970: 13–18; cf. Yakobson 1999: 55. L. Calpurnius Piso frag. 24 P (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 12.4.2–5); L. Cincius Alimentus frag. 6 P; Dionysius’s manuscripts have the reading KArkeo%; the emendation KAgkio% is, in my view, easy and convincing; for further evidence for this early version, see Enn. Ann. 150 Skutsch, with commentary at pp. 306–7; further sources at MRR 1.56. 66. Fabius Pictor: Plb. 2.18.2–3, with Walbank HC 1.185; RE 6.2, col. 1841 (Münzer), Fabius (126). The historian served in the Gallic wars of the 220s, which may have aroused his interest in earlier Romano-Gallic conflicts: FGrH 809 T 2, F 19b–c; a reference to the fourth-century Gallic sack in Pictor may have been the sort of “flashback” that Skutsch 1968: 138–39 suggests for Enn. Ann. 227–28 Skutsch, which scholars nearly unanimously consider to come from Annales 7, containing summary reports of the First Romano-Carthaginian War and the beginning of the Second; L. Cassius Hemina frag. 19 P (App. Celt. frag. 6 M). Aristotle and Theopompus already knew of the Gallic sack of Rome; see Horsfall 1987: 63–64 for discussion and references. 67. See Skutsch 1968: 138–42; Horsfall 1987. 68. See Liv. 6.18.1–20.16; Lintott 1970: 22–24; cf. MRR 1.102 on Manlius’s trial.

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common people (18.14: patronum plebis). He goes on to say that Manlius’s speech before the people was the beginning of a plot to reestablish kingship at Rome (18.16: regno agendi ortum initium). Livy, then, again presents the familiar story of the demagogic Roman politician who attempted to overthrow the collective rule of the Senate in a bid for tyrannical power at Rome. Yet given the confused tradition of Manlius’s story and the clear evidence for additions of the later annalists, we need an indication that this central feature of Livy’s version derives from a tradition that predates Polybius’s Histories in order to use it as part of the demonstration of a Roman ideological field that Polybius found already in place.69 Fortunately Diodorus provides such an indication. He seems to follow an earlier annalistic tradition that places the trial and execution of Manlius in the year 385. As we have seen, a later tradition moved the year of Manlius’s trial to 384 in order to romanticize the story, allowing the great hero Camillus, as public magistrate, to play a role in Manlius’s suppression.70 Diodorus’s dating suggests that his account goes back to a source earlier than this romantic modification. Now Diodorus states that Manlius had been aspiring to tyranny and, having been overcome in the political crisis, was executed.71 The legend of M. Manlius Capitolinus, then, joins the stories of Sp. Cassius Vecellinus and Sp. Maelius as an illustration of a Roman historiographical typology, well established in Polybius’s day, of the demagogic revolutionary. In book 6 Polybius’s description of the perversion of the democratic polity, ochlocracy or cheirokratia, conforms to this typology. There the demagogue lusts after power, he has ruined his own estate in his bid for it, and he turns to corrupting the common people in order to realize his ambition for tyrannical rule. He spoils the people through largesse, and at this point the democracy degenerates into the rule of force and violence (eD% bAan kaB xeirokratAan). The people now degenerate into perfect beasts, proceeding to massacre, exile, and plunder citizens of property. This is a grim picture indeed, and it conforms to the stories in the Roman historiographical tradition we have studied here.72 Moreover, as we have seen, Polybius uses the language of his barbarology in describing the corrupted democratic state. The radical democratic state, like the barbarian, is characterized by mindlessness, insatiable greed, and violence. In other words, Polybius employs the politico69. See Wiseman 1979 for Livy’s topographical confusions on the place of Manlius’s trial resulting from the various strands of the legend; but cf. Ziolkowski 1993a on Livy’s accuracy on the mid-fourth century dedication of the temple to Juno Moneta on the Arx. 70. Horsfall 1987: 74 suggests that the dedication of the temple to Juno Moneta in 345 by the dictator L. Furius Camillus and his magister equitum, Cn. Manlius Capitolinus, may have been the motivational context for the creation of the legend linking Camillus and Manlius; cf. Ziolkowski 1993a: 218. 71. Diod. 15.35.3: Marxo% Manlio% Dpibalameno% tyrannAdi kaB krathueB% dnirAuh. 72. See 6.9.6–9; cf. 6.44.9, 56.9–12; 16.12.9–11.

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cultural language of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity in order to paint ochlocracy in the most pejorative colors available to him. In so doing he condemns in the sharpest language a political orientation that was anathema to the Roman senatorial aristocracy.73

Contrary Subtexts: Romans as BARBAROI In this section I reexamine Polybius’s narrative from the perspective of a Greek politics of cultural alienation from Rome. In chapter 2 we surveyed evidence for a pervasive Greek antipathy against Rome, and there we have seen that Greek fear and loathing of the Romans were particularly acute in the first half of the second century—that is, in Polybius’s formative years. The historian himself provides much of the evidence for these anti-Roman Greek sentiments in the speeches of Agelaus, Lyciscus, and [Thrasycrates], in which Greek ambassadors refer to the Romans as barbarians. A Polybian speech in Livy presents the same picture.74 In this speech of spring 199, a Macedonian ambassador speaking at the Panaitolika urges the Aetolians to remain at peace with Philip V during his impending struggle against Rome. The ambassador states that the mainland Greeks could expect the same brutally imperious treatment from the Romans as the Greeks of Italy and Sicily had experienced. The Romans are an alien race, the speaker alleges, separated from Greeks by language, customs, and laws (31.29.12). He goes on to warn of the dangers of reintroducing foreign troops (legiones externas) into Greece, and he concludes with a categorical statement on the perennial and natural enmity existing between Greeks and barbarians. Pro-Roman Athenian envoys give a stinging riposte to the Macedonian ambassador’s charge of the Romans as barbaroi, turning the tables in calling the impious Philip V the real barbarian. These speeches underscore the intensity of the divisiveness of Greek opinions on Rome in the early second century, and they highlight the grammar of a Greek politics of cultural alienation from Rome.75 If Polybius was simply being a good historian in relaying these antiRoman charges of Greek statesmen, it is also true that the detailed recording of these dramatic sentiments was a political choice. It is this dimension of anti-Roman charges in Polybian speeches that I examine here. Brief consideration of the nature of speeches in ancient Greek historiography

73. See appendix A for semantic links between Polybian ochlocracy and Polybian barbarology. 74. See 5.104.1–11 (Agelaus); 9.32.3–39.7 (Lyciscus); 11.4.1–6.8 ([Thrasycrates]); Liv. 31.29.4–16, with Nissen 1863: 126–27 on the Polybian derivation. On these anti-Roman speeches, see now Champion 2000b. 75. Liv. 31.29.15–16; 31.30.4 for the Athenian ambassador’s rebuttal.

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strengthens the idea that anti-Roman sentiments in Polybian speeches constitute a political choice on the part of the author. We have seen that in book 24 Polybius presents paired speeches in order to give the political orientations toward Rome of the two Achaean politicians Philopoemen and Aristaenus. This is a famous and controversial passage, as scholars have debated what these paired speeches reveal about Polybius’s own political judgments, and particularly what they tell us about Polybius’s views on Aristaenus’s compromising attitude toward Rome.76 What is important about the speeches for the present argument is that they are a synopsis of the views of the two prominent Achaean statesmen, and, although we may accept that the speeches accurately reflect the policies of the two men, the duel between them probably never took place in the form in which Polybius presents it.77 The paired speeches of the Aetolian statesman Chlaeneas and the Acarnanian ambassador Lyciscus at Sparta in 210 point in the same direction. There Polybius exercises his well-known anti-Aetolian prejudices in giving Lyciscus’s antiAetolian harangue the emphatic final position and roughly twice the length of Chlaeneas’s pro-Aetolian oration.78 In addition, we may note that Polybius puts the famous “clouds from the west” figure of speech into Lyciscus’s mouth (9.37.10), which he earlier attributed to Agelaus (5.104.10), and which he later states in his own voice (38.16.3). Such an editorial presence in Polybian speeches should come as no surprise in light of scholarship on the rhetorical aspects of classical historiography, the nature of recorded speeches in the genre, and Polybius’s place in this tradition. The working conditions of the classical historians necessitated that the historian employ his own subjective operations in reconstituting the details of historical agents’ speeches. Since Polybius lived in a predominantly oral culture, his primary materials for speeches were reports from eyewitnesses (when they were available), the exercise of his own memory, and his own knowledge of the political context of the speech in question. Written transcripts of speeches were a rarity, and therefore the verbatim reproduction of historical agents’ speeches would most often be an impossibility. The historian’s recording of field generals’ exhortations to their troops before engaging in battle underscores the point I wish to emphasize here. In recording these speeches, which took place under chaotic conditions, the historian for the most part had to resort to free invention. Polybius himself illustrates the point in his account of the battle at Mantinea. There he states that the soldiers could not hear Philopoemen’s exhortations, but the histo76. See 24.11.1–13.10; Eckstein 1987a, 1990, and 1995b: 202–3 and literature cited there; cf. Eckstein 1985 on the “politics of accommodation.” 77. See Walbank HC 3.264–65; cf. Pédech 1964: 417. 78. See 9.28.1–39.7, with Walbank HC 2.162–63; Champion 1996: 321–24.

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rian goes on to give the gist of the speech, just the same.79 Similarly and more significant for a Polybian politics of cultural alienation from Rome, Polybius reconstitutes what Macedonian reconnaissance scouts reported back to Philip V in the midst of the battle at Cynoscephalae. In direct speech Polybius has the scouts keep Philip apprised of the movements of the Roman barbaroi (18.22.8). This passage is prime evidence for Polybius’s choice to refer to Romans on occasion as barbarians, his choice to engage in a Greek politics of cultural alienation from Rome. It may be useful to sum up the argument to this point. In the classical historiographical tradition of recording the speeches of historical agents, Polybius records and shapes what he deems to be the most historically significant portions of speeches as he received them from his informants or as he reconstructed them from either his own memory or his historical understanding of the events. In light of the nature of reported speeches in classical historiography and Polybius’s own practice in recording speeches, the references to Romans as barbarians in the speeches of Agelaus, Lyciscus, [Thrasycrates], in the Macedonian scouts’ reports at 18.22.8, and in the Macedonian ambassador’s speech at Livy 31.29.4–16 all represent an authorial decision to engage in a Greek politics of cultural alienation from Rome. I argue that this decision was in conformity with a pervasive Greek aristocratic ideological position, hostile to Roman overlordship of the Greek world. Moreover, linking this aspect of Polybius’s narrative—that is, the representation of Romans as barbarians—to his Greek audience resolves the apparent tensions between the seemingly contradictory Polybian images of Romans as quasi Greeks or barbaroi. These rival images are aimed at the historian’s two audiences, Roman and Greek, and together they constitute a politics of cultural indeterminacy. Two famous passages, one in book 3 and the other near the work’s end, dramatically illustrate the idea of a Polybian politics of cultural indeterminacy regarding Rome. In his famous statement on his decision to append ten further books in order to extend his coverage from the decisive Roman victory at Pydna in 168 to the catastrophic year 146, Polybius promises that the extension will enable readers to decide whether the Roman empire is worthy of praise and admiration or rather blame and condemnation (3.4.6–8). This is a moral judgment, but in the extant work the historian never straightforwardly answers that question. And a passage in book 36 suggests that he never straightforwardly answered the question in any passage we have lost. 79. See 11.12.1–3; it is indeed difficult to reconcile the evidence of this passage with Polybius’s criticism of Timaeus’s practice with historical agents’ speeches at 12.25a.3–5. See Hansen 1993 and Ehrhardt 1995 on the battle exhortation in classical historians. More generally on Polybian speeches, see Mohm 1977: 51–67; Walbank 1985: 242–61; Champion 1997a: 112–17.

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Here Polybius gives the views of Greek statesmen on Rome’s actions in the Third Romano-Carthaginian War (36.9.1–10.1). He begins his discussion by noting that there were many divergent Greek opinions on the Roman destruction of Carthage. Some approved of the action, maintaining that the Romans had acted wisely and pragmatically (fronAmv% kaB pragmatikp%) in removing a power that had been a perennial menace to Roman security. Others took a diametrically opposed position, arguing that by this action the Romans had departed from the high principles by means of which they had won their empire, giving in to sheer lust for domination. In this they were following the same path that Athens and Sparta had taken, and they were sure to meet the same end as those states had suffered. On this view, the Roman destruction of Carthage was a gratuitous act of savagery. Some other Greeks also condemned the Romans’ action, but they took a somewhat more moderate stance. They accepted that the Romans were generally a civilized people, and they knew that the Romans prided themselves on conducting their wars in a straightforward and noble manner.80 In this instance, however, Rome had behaved fraudulently, and the Romans’ uncivilized actions qualified as impiety and treachery (dsAbhma kaB paraspandhma). Yet others took a legalistic view of the situation, arguing that since the Carthaginians had surrendered unconditionally through a formal deditio to Rome, whatever action the Romans decided to undertake was legitimate. Indeed, on this view it was the Carthaginians who had acted unjustly, as they refused to comply with Roman demands after having given the Romans full authority to act as they deemed best. This famous chapter has been one of the most hotly debated passages in the Histories, as scholars have labored, in vain in my opinion, to derive something like a monolithic Polybian view on Rome from it. For example, Walbank has argued that Polybius’s views on the Roman action against Carthage are essentially pro-Roman, as he arranges anti- and pro-Roman Greek sentiments chiastically, giving the apologetic positions the emphatic first and final places in this catalogue of Greek opinions.81 Yet, I wish to stress, it is in the very nature of the passage that there can never be a final answer to the question of what these Greek sentiments surrounding the Third RomanoCarthaginian War reveal about Polybius’s own opinions. A more profitable approach, in my view, is to read this famous passage in terms of the politics of Polybius’s ambiguous representations of the Romans. A significant illus80. See 36.9.9, in sharp contrast, we may note, to Q. Marcius Philippus’s nova sapientia at Liv. (P) 42.43.1–3, 47.1–12. 81. Walbank HC 3.664; 1985: 168–73; contra Musti 1978: 55–57; see assembled references at Rich 1993: 63 n. 2; Rich rightly concludes, “Possibly Polybius presented the question in this way because his sympathies were torn and he felt unable to make up his mind.”

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tration of this Greek politics outside of Polybius’s text encourages such a reading. The Romans and those Greeks residing in Rome witnessed an event that sent shock waves through the Roman senatorial aristocracy during the time in which Polybius was composing his work in Rome. This famous event is all the more pertinent to this discussion, as we know that Polybius himself may have been in attendance; he referred to it in a lost part of his work.82 The event in question is the famous Athenian “philosophical embassy” of 155 to Rome concerning a fine of five hundred talents, imposed by Sicyonian arbitrators on the Athenians as recompensation for a raid against Oropus. The embassy’s objective was to obtain remission of the fine.83 One of the ambassadors, the Academic Carneades, gave a spectacular oratorical performance. According to our sources, which admittedly present their own problems as reliable witnesses of what Carneades actually said, Carneades defended justice in one oration, only to turn the tables in another, making the case for injustice in an apparently Thrasymachean vein. Our sources state that in his argument for injustice Carneades maintained that if Rome opted for justice, then it would have to give up its empire, abdicating all possessions and consigning itself to abject poverty.84 The elder Cato, bewildered by the verbal virtuosity, worked for the immediate departure of the philosophers from Rome.85 The dangers of rhetorical distortions of moral values, and not any explicit condemnation of Rome and its empire, appear to have been the principal cause of Cato’s concern. Indeed, E. S. Gruen and J.-L. Ferrary have argued that any overt criticism of Roman imperialism on Carneades’ part in 155 would have been impolitic; the mission’s objective, after all, was to mollify, not to antagonize, the Romans.86 But Carneades apparently did speak on the themes of justice and injustice, and he may have explicitly referred to Rome and its empire in this connection.87 The idea that Carneades did so is perhaps not as unlikely as Gruen and Ferrary suggest, since in 184 Polybius’s father, Lycortas, seeking concessions from the Romans on the Spartan question, as Carneades was later to seek Roman concessions on the Oropus affair, presented a speech before the Roman commissioner Ap. Claudius Pulcher in which he stated 82. See Plb. 33.2.10 (Gell. NA 6.14.10), with Ferrary 1988: 360 and n. 30. 83. The embassy partly succeeded, obtaining a reduction of the fine from five hundred to one hundred talents: Paus. 7.11.5; for discussion and sources, see Gruen 1984: 257–58; Erskine 1990: 189 n. 13; MRR 1.448. 84. See Cic. Resp. 3.12.21 (Lactant. Inst. 5.16.2–4). For the possibility of Ciceronian distortions of our picture of Carneades’ statements in 155, see Gruen 1984: 342 nn. 131–32. 85. Discussion and sources at Gruen 1992: 65–66. 86. Gruen 1984: 342; Ferrary 1988: 351–63. 87. See Cic. Resp. 3.6.9 (Lactant. Inst. 5.14.3–5); Quint. Inst. 12.1.35.

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that he knew he was in reality speaking as a slave to a master and asked why, if Achaea and Rome were indeed equal allies, he could not just as well ask the Romans to explain their seizure of Capua as the Romans were now asking the Achaeans to explain their action against Sparta.88 In my view, therefore, we should not discount the possibility of multiple valences in Carneades’ public orations in Rome. Carneades’ indirect expression of anti-Roman Greek sentiment (and it is worth remembering that there would have been Greeks in attendance; indeed, we have already considered an indication that Polybius himself heard the lectures) would have been safely couched in a display of rhetorical virtuosity, just as Polybius safely presents harsh Greek assessments of Roman behavior in the context of the Third Romano-Carthaginian War as representing the views of others. Consideration of the apparently unfulfilled promise of a judgment on the Roman dominion (3.4.7) and the ambivalence of the Greek views on the Roman destruction of Carthage (36.9.1–10.1) in Polybius’s text, as well as the tradition on the famous philosophical embassy of 155 and Carneades’ public lectures at Rome, have prepared the way for further investigation of a Polybian politics of cultural indeterminacy regarding Rome. In order to pursue this it is necessary to determine at what point in time, according to Polybius, the Roman state left its optimal condition and entered its period of decline, and we have seen that the answer to this question is problematic. Polybius provides several signposts for the onset of Roman deterioration. The first five books take the reader to the climactic battle at Cannae, and Polybius interrupts his historical narrative at this point in order to interject the political analysis of the Roman state in book 6, where he explicitly states that the Roman politeia had reached its prime in the Hannibalic War (6.11.1–2, 51.5–8). We therefore might see the decisive battle at Zama in 202, recounted in book 15 (5.3–14.9), as the turning point after which we may expect to see incipient decay in Roman collective behavior. On the other hand, we have also seen that in Polybius’s view the infamous embassy of Callicrates in 180 marked a change for the worse in Roman international diplomacy and the beginnings of evils for the Greeks (24.8.1–10.15); and in the famous second preface (3.4.1–8), Polybius states that after the battle at Pydna Roman power was absolute in the Mediterranean world and that he must append a further ten books in order to assess how the mistress of the oikoumene used her unchallenged supremacy. Focusing on this well-known passage, and especially when we consider it in conjunction with the statement in book 6 (57.1–9) that decline sets in after states have attained undisputed supremacy, we should see Pydna as the watershed after which the Romans no longer demonstrated the pristine virtues of an earlier day. 88. See Liv. (P) 39.37.10–13; MRR 1.376–77 for sources on the Roman commission in 184 to Macedonia and Achaea.

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Clearly, then, there is a great deal of ambiguity in Polybius’s text as to the question of the beginnings of Roman decline, and we may see this ambiguity in itself as a narrative device by means of which Polybius calls the existence of the “Hellenic” virtues among the Romans in any period of their history into question. Despite the uncertainties regarding the onset of Roman degeneration in Polybius’s conception, it would be highly significant to find both explicit statements by Polybius as subjective historian as well as subtexts, which Polybius provides in his guise as indirect historian, that subvert the Polybian image of “Hellenic” Romans before the earliest indication in the Histories that the Romans had begun to decline from their ancestral virtues—that is, in the pre-Hannibalic War period and during the Hannibalic War. Any such indications would indeed run against the grain of the main lines of the narrative and compromise the Polybian image of “Hellenic” Romans, who in later periods began to suffer the consequences of the inherent institutional atrophy to which all peoples are subject. As subjective historian, in narrating the course of the First RomanoCarthaginian War, Polybius states that the Romans use force, bia, in all their endeavors. In this instance, the attempt of the Roman commanders to cross from Libya to Sicily during tempestuous conditions at sea, the Romans obstinately applied bia against the forces of nature. Here the Romans early on acted contrary to the dictates of logos, and, we may add, in so doing they displayed a characteristic, irrational fault of barbarians.89 Speaking in his own voice on the causes of the Hannibalic War, Polybius refers to Rome’s theft of Sardinia in the aftermath of the war (3.30.4: dfaAresi%), and for him this was an injustice that led to the struggle against Hannibal (3.28.1–2). In the methodological book 12, again speaking in his own voice, Polybius chastises Timaeus for finding the origins for the annual sacrifice of a horse at Rome in commemoration of the fall of Troy, Rome’s ancestral city, through the ruse of the Trojan horse. In this instance, Polybius disputes both Timaeus’s linking of Rome to the Homeric tradition and his implication that the Romans were refugees from the civilized city of Troy. The explanation for horse sacrifice at Rome, Polybius maintains, is much simpler: horse sacrifice was a nearly universal practice among the barbaroi; Romans, as barbarians, act according to a widespread barbarian custom.90 Finally, Cicero relays that Polybius criticized the Romans for their neglect of formal paideia, and since this was a quintessential mark of Hellenic culture, we may take this passage as further evidence that Polybius in his own voice as subjective historian occa89. 1.37.7; see Eckstein 1997a: 178–79 for an interpretation of the passage reflecting more positively on Romans. See 1.47.3–5 for a further Roman challenge to the forces of nature: the Romans vainly attempt to fill in the harbor mouth at Lilybaeum. 90. 12.4b.1–4c.1, with Champion 2000a; cf. Champion 2000b: 431–32.

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sionally calls the Hellenism of the Romans into question.91 In these passages, Polybius is either making generalized, achronistic statements about the Romans or he is referring to Roman actions in the earliest parts of their history that he treats in detail in the extant text, events surrounding the First Romano-Carthaginian War. In all these passages, we have statements on the Romans as a collectivity that compromise the Polybian picture of rational, “Hellenic” Romans. Further evidence of a Polybian politics of cultural alienation from Rome comes when Polybius is operating as indirect historian. The narrative of the First Romano-Carthaginian War may provide an illustration of such indirect historiography. Here we find a Polybian collective image of the Romans that seems to run counter to the overarching representation of “Hellenic” Romans in the early parts of the Histories. In narrating the preliminaries to the war, Polybius states that King Hiero II of Syracuse saw an opportunity to expel the barbarians who occupied Messana. The barbarians here may well include the Romans as well as the Mamertines.92 In any case, the Mamertines are certainly barbarians here, and in another passage Polybius says that the Mamertines appealed to the Romans as kinsfolk, cmafyloi (1.10.2). My reading of these passages suggests a subterranean Polybian message that the Romans as a collectivity were indeed barbaroi in a period well before the historian indicates any onset of Roman degeneration from early virtues. This reading of the cultural-political implications for the Romans of Polybius’s narration of the Mamertine affair must remain conjectural, but actions of individual Roman commanders clearly compromise the Polybian picture of rational, “Hellenic” Romans. And these individual Roman actions significantly take place in periods before we have any reason, based on Polybius’s statements on the stages of the Roman politeia’s progression in its life cycle, to see any signs of Roman degeneration; they unequivocally present examples of Romans acting contrary to logismos.93 In the first war against Carthage, Cn. Cornelius Scipio Asina hastily made an ill-planned attempt on the Lipari Islands, only to be entrapped by a Carthaginian squadron. Gnaeus, in a state of terror, surrendered (1.21.4–11). Later in the war, C. Atilius Regulus, overestimating his advantage, haughtily dictated harsh terms to the Carthaginians, and his subsequent calamity serves for Polybius as an object lesson on the folly of unmeasured confidence in the flush of immediate success (1.31.4–8, 35.1–10). The commander P. Claudius Pulcher suffered a naval disaster at Drepana in 249; he was brought to trial and convicted, as he had conducted the battle shamefully and without a 91. See Cic. Resp. 4.3.3, with MacMullen 1991: 434 and n. 53. 92. See 1.11.7, with appendix B, nos. 1–5; contra Lazenby (1996: 47), who believes that the passage refers only to the Mamertines. 93. But cf. 18.35.1–2: the Romans preserved their own mores until their transmarine wars.

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rational plan.94 Individual commanders in the second war against Carthage exhibit the same faults. C. Flaminius is the prime example of the irresolute and irrational Roman commander whose precipitous actions led to Roman disasters.95 Flaminius perished at Trasimene largely as a result of his own shortcomings. Ti. Sempronius Longus also acted rashly, driven on by personal ambition, at the Trebia (3.70.1–8). In Polybius’s narrative of Cannae, M. Minucius Rufus serves as an irrational, vainglorious foil to the sagacious Q. Fabius Maximus, just as C. Terentius Varro does to L. Aemilius Paullus. Both Minucius and Varro act according to the directives of thumos, and they both bring on Roman disaster.96 In a later stage in the war, we have the example of C. Livius at Tarentum, who lost the city in large part because he had been in a drunken stupor.97 It is highly significant that these passages all occur in the narration of periods before or during the Hannibalic War, when Polybius explicitly says that the Romans were at their acme. We therefore have a contraindication to the main lines of the narrative: Roman degeneration in the later books, as we have seen in part 2, conforms to Polybius’s universalizing system of causation according to which collective societal characteristics are dependent on institutional structures, and Greeks as well as Romans suffer from this sort of degeneration. Here, however, we have Romans acting in ways that are characteristic of Polybian barbarians in a period before this sort of explanation, based on customs and laws, Guh kaB namoi, could apply according to Polybius’s own statements on the life cycle of the Roman politeia. We may make the same point regarding the dramatic references to the Romans as barbarians in Polybius’s speeches. The speeches of Agelaus, Lyciscus, and [Thrasycrates] destroy the image of “Hellenic” Romans in the sharpest terms, and they all take place in the Hannibalic War era. The Macedonian scout’s references in direct speech to the Romans as barbaroi at 18.22.8 and the Macedonian ambassador’s charges of Roman barbarism in the Polybian passage at Livy 31.29.4–16 take place within a few years after the conclusion of the Hannibalic War, and, we may add, long before the watershed date of Pydna. We therefore have a dramatic narrative tension: indications of Roman bar-

94. 1.52.2–3 (dlogAstv%), with Rosenstein 1990: 79 and nn. 79–80. 95. See 2.21.8–9 (provocative land-distribution scheme in Picenum leads to Gallic tumultus); 2.33.7–9 (tactical blunders against the Gauls); 3.80.3 (Hannibal’s assessment of Flaminius); 82.2–8, 84.4–5 (Flaminius’s incompetence at Trasimene). 96. Minucius: 3.102.8–9 (personal ambition for the future); 103.5–6 (overconfidence as codictator); 104.1–2 (Minucius’s filotimAa, crma, and filodojAa); 105.8–10 (contrast with Fabius); Varro: 3.110.3–4 (dissension with Paullus); 112.4 (Varro, provoked by Numidians, displays as little self-possession as the plauh); 116.13 (disgraceful escape from Cannae and survival). 97. See 8.24.1–34.13; esp. 27.1–9, 30.6, with Eckstein 1995b: 285–89.

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barism when the Romans are ostensibly still in their optimal, unspoilt, “Hellenic” character.

Roman and Greek aristocratic ideological contexts illuminate Polybius’s collective representations of Romans. The main lines of Polybius’s narrative, in which Romans seem to exhibit unspoilt virtue in the early books that undergoes increasing degeneration as the work proceeds, conform to a Roman aristocratic ideology. Romans constantly made appeals to mos maiorum, the ways of the ancestors, and, as we see most clearly in the fulminations of the elder Cato, they bemoaned the degenerate state of contemporary Romans. The narrative voice of the Histories aligns itself with this Roman ideological position, routinely praising the ancients, oC palaioA, and castigating contemporaries, both Greek and Roman. Polybius’s primary causal determinant for this degeneration, formal and informal societal structures and practices, applies equally to Greeks and Romans; and, insofar as its universalizing language serves to erode ethnic separation between Greeks and Romans, it is an assimilationist narrative maneuver. Moreover, the Polybian state in which institutional structures and societal practices have degenerated to the furthest degree is ochlocracy, or mob rule, and significantly Polybius describes this state in the descriptive terms he employs in describing barbarians: grasping, irrational, driven on by thumos rather than directed by logismos. This aspect of Polybius’s scheme of political development was in line with a wellestablished Roman aristocratic ideological tradition on the dangers of the demagogic politician and would-be tyrant who attempts to destroy the rule of the Roman senatorial aristocracy by indulging the irrational greed and passions of the multitude, or vulgus. In these ways Polybius’s representations of Romans conform to available Roman aristocratic ideological conventions. Yet there are also some passages in which Polybius as subjective historian in his own voice suggests that the Romans were indeed barbaroi, and, what is most significant, that they were barbarians even in periods before the historian has indicated the beginnings in Roman society of the inevitable institutional degeneration to which all states are subject (which itself is difficult to fix chronologically for Rome in Polybius’s thought). Perhaps the most striking example here is 12.4b.1–c.1, a generalizing, “achronistic” statement that explains a bizarre Roman cultural practice by arguing that nearly all barbarian peoples practice horse sacrifice, and that since the Romans are a subset of the barbaroi, they of course engage in it. As indirect historian Polybius further calls the Hellenism of the Romans in any period into question: individual Roman commanders in the early books frequently act contrary to the dictates of logismos, and Polybius allows Greek historical agents in recorded speeches to refer explicitly to the Romans as barbarians; and this in a period when, on Polybius’s reckoning, the Roman politeia was still in its optimal con-

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dition. These narrative devices conform to an anti-Roman Greek aristocratic ideological position. We can fully understand the narrative tension of these divergent representations of Romans only by considering the pragmatic, political circumstances in which the historian worked, which provide the focus for the final chapter.

Chapter 7

Practical Contexts and Political Realities By the indirect approach you must seek and strive to the best of your power to handle matters tactfully. What you cannot turn to good you must at least make as little bad as you can. thomas more, Utopia

The objective of this chapter is to situate Polybius’s collective representations, especially those of Romans, in the political circumstances from which they arose. We have seen two strongly divergent Polybian images of Romans—now quasi Hellenes, now barbarians. Romans participate in Polybius’s Hellenism insofar as they participate in Hellenic logismos (see appendix C). But they have been subjected to the degenerative historical forces to which all states are susceptible; and the ultimate danger to the Roman state, as for all Polybian states, is the rise of the demagogic leader and the reign of the ochlos, or mob. We have also seen both how these ideas conform to Roman aristocratic ideologies and how contrary suggestions of Roman barbarism conform to an anti-Roman Greek ideological position. It remains to consider Polybius’s pragmatic circumstances and his collective representations in the Histories as a response to political realities. This chapter situates Polybius’s text within dramatic historical changes Rome was undergoing in the period of Polybius’s stay there, and Roman politicians’ reactions to them, Greek and Roman diplomatic and political interactions, and Achaean factional politics before the Senate.

Hellenism, Turbulence, and Change: Polybius in Rome Paramount among the political realities Polybius faced at Rome were Roman reactions to Hellenism and the bearings these reactions had upon Polybius’s identity as Greek resident in Rome. Although Rome was witnessing a rapidly increasing influx of Greek culture, the Roman aristocracy had long enjoyed Greek cultural productions. Indeed, as early as 282 a Roman legate to Tarentum, L. Postumius Megellus, had made his address in Greek, but with 204

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unhappy results.1 Yet by the end of the third century, the evidence for an increased depth of Hellenism among the senatorial aristocracy is unequivocal. We have testimony for a college of scribes and poets at Rome in 207. At this time Fabius Pictor produced a history of Rome, written in Greek. The process continued and accelerated in the following century. Ennius, who celebrated M. Fulvius Nobilior’s exploits in Aetolia, described himself with the Greek term poeta. Nobilior himself dedicated a temple to Hercules and the Muses in 187, or perhaps in his censorial year, 179. Twice in 186 and again in 167 Greek technitai performed at Rome. L. Aemilius Paullus confiscated Perseus’s Greek library for his sons’ education and commissioned the Athenian Metrodorus to execute paintings for his Macedonian triumph. Scipio Aemilianus could readily quote Homer, as could Cato the Elder; and Cicero remarks that the first Latin orators with formal Greek rhetorical training appeared in Cato’s lifetime. Greek artists worked on the Porticus Metelli, for which Greek artworks also were imported.2 Polybius’s contemporary Roman historians indicate Hellenism’s penetration of the Roman aristocracy in the second century: A. Postumius Albinus apologized for the inelegant Greek of his history, arousing both Cato’s and Polybius’s ridicule, and C. Acilius, echoing Plato’s pupil Heraclides of Pontus, claimed that Rome was a Greek foundation.3 As Polybius tells us, Greek artists, intellectuals, and art objects now flooded into Rome.4 The careers of individual Roman statesmen of the day demonstrate the Greek learning of the Roman aristocracy: the elder Ti. Sempronius Gracchus, censor for 169, delivered a memorable speech in Greek 1. See MRR 1.189–90 for sources on Postumius. Plut. Pyrrh. 18 implies that Cineas spoke before the Senate without an interpreter; perhaps suspect in light of C. Acilius as interpreter for the famous Athenian embassy of 155; see Gell. NA 6.14.9; Macrob. Sat. 1.5.16, with Boyancé 1956: 113–14; cf. Cato’s use of an interpreter at Athens (Plut. Cat. Mai. 12) and Aemilius Paullus’s Latin speech, translated by the praetor Cn. Octavius, at Amphipolis in 168 (Liv. 45.29.1–3). 2. College: Festus pp. 446–48 L; Ennius poeta: Enn. Ann. 3 Skutsch; Nobilior’s dedications: Cic. Arch. 27; Plin. NH 35.66; MRR 1.369, 392, with Rawson 1985: 39; Orlin 1997: 65–66; technitai: Liv. 39.22.2 and 10; Plb. 30.22.1–12, with Beacham 1992: 63; Paullus: Plut. Aem. 28, see also 6; Plin. NH 35.135 (Metrodorus), with Reiter 1988: 114–15 (Perseus’s library). Aemilianus, Cato, and Greek paideia: Plut. Ti. Gracch. 21; Plb. 38.22.2 (Aemilianus); Plut. Cat. Mai. 2; Plb. 35.6.1–4; Cic. Sen. 3 (Cato); Latin orators: Cic. Brut. 77–81; Porticus Metelli: Vitruv. 3.2.4–6. 3. Albinus: Plb. 39.1.1–12; FGrH 812 F 1b; C. Acilius frag. 1 P (Strabo 5.3.3 [C 230]); Heraclides ap. Plut. Cam. 22: palin ^EllhnAda ^Ramhn, with Gruen 1992: 10. On the idea of Rome as a Greek foundation, see further Plut. Rom. 2; Festus 326–29 L; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.72–73; Ov. Fast. 4.64. 4. See Plb. 31.24.6–7; cf. Liv. 25.40.1–3; 27.16.7; Plut. Aem. 6, 33; Cat. Mai. 19; also Plin. NH 34.34, 36; Liv. 39.6.7–9; Pollitt 1978; Wardman 1976: 50–60; MacMullen 1991: 424–25 and nn. 16–19; Bergmann 1995: 87–94; Kuttner 1995, esp. 159–66, on Pergamene influences, the most famous incident of which was, of course, the introduction of the Magna Mater, with the assistance of King Attalus I, to Rome in 205/204; principal testimony is Liv. 29.10.4–11.8, 14.5–14; Ov. Fast. 4.247–348, with Gruen 1990: 5–33; cf. Burton 1996.

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to the Rhodians; in the next generation, P. Licinius Crassus Dives Mucianus commanded five Greek dialects in his travels through Asia.5 In this period Hellenism became politicized in Rome as never before, and Cato’s rantings against Roman philhellenes underscore the point. Cato rightfully commands center stage in discussions of Roman attitudes toward Greek culture. Despite protestations against Hellenism’s dangers, Cato appears to have been well versed in Greek cultural productions. Polybius relates that when the Achaean hostages finally were granted permission to return to their homeland, Scipio Aemilianus, on Polybius’s behalf, asked Cato’s advice on requesting in addition the return of honors the detainees had held. Cato retorted that this would be like Odysseus returning to the Cyclops’s cave to ask for his cloak. The interchange reveals Cato’s easy familiarity with Greek literature. According to Plutarch, Cato had learned Pythagorean doctrines as a youth in Tarentum from one Nearchus; he reproduced witticisms of Themistocles, and perhaps Pisistratus; he was knowledgeable of the exploits of Epaminondas, Pericles, and Themistocles; he recalled the battle strategy of the fifth-century Greek stand at Thermopylae; he held a low opinion of Socrates and disparaged Isocrates; he owned a Greek teacher, Chilon; and he quoted Homer’s Odyssey upon hearing of the young Scipio Aemilianus’s feats at Carthage.6 Yet in his relentless attacks upon Scipio Africanus, Cato appears to have brought the charge of an excessive attraction to Greek culture. As Scipio’s quaestor in 204 Cato apparently castigated his superior’s Greek ways in Syracuse.7 Suggestive in the context of hostile Roman charges against Scipio’s devotion to Hellenism is a fragment of Naevius making sport of Scipio’s alleged loose morals, charging that Scipio’s father once led him home in a pallium from a carouse with his amica. Scipio’s irresolute sexual conduct is connected here with his Greek attire, the pallium.8 It is noteworthy in this context that Q. Petillius, the urban praetor of 181 who played a central role in the confiscation and burning of Greek philosophical writings, may have been Cato’s political ally.9 Allegations of indulgence in Greek cultural prac5. Ti. Gracchus: Cic. Brut. 79; Mucianus: Quint. Inst. 11.2.50; Val. Max. 8.7.6; Gell. NA 1.13.9–10, with Petrochilos 1974: 23–33. Yet Kaimio 1979: 101 n. 34 argues that we have for 292–140, a period slightly extending Polybius’s chronological termini, only twelve cases of Roman ambassadors with a certain command of the Greek language. 6. Cato’s retort: Plb. 35.6.1–4; Plut. Cat. Mai. 9, 12 (Cato at Athens); see p. 183 n. 35 for Pythagorean doctrines (Nearchus), praise of Epaminondas et al., and Leonidas at Thermopylae; Socrates/Isocrates: Plut. Cat. Mai. 20, 23; Chilon: 20; Odyssey: 27; cf. Cic. Sen. 3; Nicolet 1974: 246 and n. 1; Bonamente 1980: 83–89; Gruen 1992: 52–83. 7. See Liv. 29.19.11–13; assembled references at Bonamente 1980: 73 n. 39. 8. See Naevius ap. Gell. NA 7.8.5; cf. Cic. De Or. 2.249 for Scipio’s jibe at Naevius. 9. According to Liv. 38.50.5, two Petillii brought charges against the Scipios in 187. One may have been Q. Petillius Spurinus, pr. 181, cos. 176; for sources and discussion, see MRR 1.370 n.

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tices that were unseemly for a Roman nobilis, therefore, appear to have comprised an important component of Scipio’s political enemies’ strategy against him. This strategy was successful. Scipio’s political opposition apparently muted him most effectively: Cicero states that in his day no writings of Africanus survived.10 Scipio’s preeminence, after a bitter series of political attacks, came to an end. The princeps senatus retired as a private citizen to his villa at Liternum in 184, and died within the year. Cato, on the other hand, remained a major political force throughout the first half of the second century.11 Here we may move beyond an instrumental view of Hellenism as a device by means of which senators engaged in factional struggles in order to understand the complexities of Roman aristocratic reactions to Hellenism in the second century. First, we must remember that we are dealing with the complex cognitive schemata of Roman aristocrats. There were probably as many nuanced views on Greek culture in Roman society as there were individual Roman senators. The divide between “Catonians” and “Philhellenes” is therefore a grossly distorting historical simplification.12 The danger here lies in the likelihood that such a historical generalization will foster the misconception that the Roman ruling elite comprised a monolithic block that could engage in a conscious and calculated program of forging a distinctively Roman cultural identity. Indeed, it may look this way with historical hindsight, but we must remember that this Roman cultural identity was undergoing birth pangs in the first half of the second century and that these were tied up with Roman political struggles of the period. Notwithstanding these reservations, we may suspect that on certain levels anti-Hellenism at Rome over time would have become internalized and in some sense part of a genuine concern for Roman society’s well-being on the part of some Roman senators. Certainly the psychological literature suggests that this should have been the case. Let us assume for the moment that we

4, 376; Astin 1978: 70–71. On the “Trials of the Scipios,” see Plb. 23.14.1–12; Liv. 38.50–56; RE 4.1, cols. 1469–70 (Henze); Shatzman 1972: 192–94; Scullard 1973: 290–303 and assembled references at 290 n. 1; Astin 1989: 179–80; Gruen 1995. 10. See Cic. Off. 3.4.1. Aulus Gellius (NA 4.18.6; cf. Liv. 38.56.5–6; 39.52.3–4) claims that a speech believed to have been delivered by Scipio was still extant in his day; it was probably a forgery; see Scullard 1973: 298–99 and n. 2. According to Cic. Brut. 77–78, Africanus’s son Publius wrote elegant historical narrative, in Greek. Augustus reinscribed Cornelia’s statue in the porticus Octaviae, adding that she was Africanus’s daughter; perhaps suggestive of the eclipse of Scipio’s reputation in the second century; see CIL VI 31610, with Rawson 1997: 212 n. 22. 11. See Scullard 1970: 210–24; 1973: 128–52. Sen. Ep. 86.1 believes that an altar at the villa at Liternum might have marked Africanus’s grave; see also Liv. 38.56.3–4; Strabo 5.4.4 (C 243); cf. Flower 1996: 159–84 on the Tomb of the Scipios near the porta Capena along the via Appia. 12. Cf. Badian 1970: 33–34: “Philhellenism—whatever the term means—was not an issue that can be shown to have divided the Senate into parties.”

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have a simple and straightforward situation in which most Roman senators embraced Greek culture privately but rejected it publicly. L. Festinger’s dissonance theory argues that on the intrapersonal, subjective level people must justify the choices they make. In the case of Roman senators, there would have been a dissonance between a public anti-Hellenic cultural stance and a genuine love of Greek cultural productions. The conflict between the two would have been disturbing, motivating some to reduce the dissonance. An obvious way for the Roman politician to have achieved this would have been to believe that there was some truth to these anti-Hellenic messages for public consumption. Such struggles on the part of a few individuals could have had a cumulative impact of significant proportions upon the Roman senatorial aristocracy. Here psychological theories of attitudinal change, especially the theory of operant conditioning, provide some interesting insights into the dynamics of questions of culture in the political life of the Roman ruling elite in this period. Suppose a junior Roman senator initially voiced philhellenic sentiments among a powerful anti-Hellenic subgroup of the Senate, upon whom his future prospects for political advancement perhaps depended. Those sentiments would not have found favor with this group, and the theory states that in time the pro-Greek attitude would have been extinguished. Conversely, our hypothetical junior senator would have found any anti-Hellenic statements accepted, encouraged, and reinforced, and he would eventually have adopted an anti-Hellenic cultural attitude. The likelihood of such a scenario does not need extended discussion, nor must we keep the argument on a purely hypothetical plane; we need only think of the immense auctoritas of the elder Cato in this period and his public attacks on Hellenism in order to give it historical concreteness. Appeals to psychological theories of course can only be suggestive, but these considerations, in my view, help us to make sense of some Roman public manifestations of anti-Greek feeling far better than the idea that the Roman aristocracy was fully in command of a cool and rational manipulation of cultural symbols, in which the disparagement of Hellenism was little more than a blunt and disingenuous device to achieve political ends.13 The acceleration of Hellenism at Rome and its intensified politicization among the Roman senatorial aristocracy were but part of dramatically rapid historical transformations at Rome in our period. The story is well known; we need here only highlight some of its essential elements. The wars of conquest led to profound socioeconomic dislocations in Roman society: hardpressed assidui returning from war to neglected, dilapidated small farms; swelling free and servile urban populations in Italy, especially in Rome itself; 13. Petty and Cacioppo 1981: 47–51, 137–52 on operant conditioning/cognitive dissonance theories.

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appropriation of public land by the socioeconomic elites; and mass importation of slave labor to work the estates of the rich.14 Individual members of the Roman senatorial aristocracy, as victorious commanders, were the primary beneficiaries. The socioeconomic ramifications of Rome’s unprecedented involvement in Greece had been an important element in the transformation of senatorial politics at Rome. As the price of the politics of largesse skyrocketed, the enormously successful Roman general commanding immense war booty threatened to disrupt the political equilibrium in the Senate.15 One danger lay in the links the general could forge with his soldiers through the distribution of war booty. For example, following his victory over Hannibal, Scipio Africanus deposited 123,000 pounds of silver in the Roman treasury and distributed 400 asses to each of his troops. The elder Cato himself hauled in 25,000 pounds of silver bullion, 123,000 silver denarii, 540,000 Oscan silver coins, and 1,400 pounds of gold from his Spanish campaign. He distributed 270 asses to each of his soldiers and twice that amount to his cavalry. Distributions on this scale came to be expected by the Roman legionaries. In 179 the Ligurian campaign of Q. Fulvius Flaccus yielded almost nothing in the way of war booty, yet the commander nevertheless distributed 300 asses to each of his soldiers.16 The politics of largesse extended from the military to the domestic sphere in the form of individual Roman statesmen making contributions of public amenities at Rome. The dedication of temples and public buildings, such as Q. Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus’s spectacular contributions from his Macedonian booty, the staging of games, and lavish expenditure on funeral ceremonies won elections. This was particularly true of the munera of the aedileship, the stepping-stone to the praetorship and consulate.17 This period also witnessed unprecedented lavishness and magnificence in the celebration of triumphs. M’. Acilius Glabrio’s triumph in 190 was brilliant, lasting for several days, and in 189 his lavish congiaria almost won him the

14. See Hopkins 1978: 1–98, with convenient graphic illustration of the socioeconomic processes (12). The famous study of the army and the land in the post-Gracchan era by Brunt 1962, revised and expanded in Brunt 1988: 240–80, takes the basic outlines of this historical process for granted for the earlier period. To be sure, scholars have criticized certain elements of this reconstruction as being too schematic and monocausal; see principally Rich 1983; and briefly Rosenstein 1999: 206–8 and literature cited there. See now Rosenstein 2002. 15. On the autonomy of the Roman republican commander, which encompassed the distribution of war booty, see Shatzman 1972; Scullard 1973: 292–93 and n. 1; Eckstein 1987b passim. 16. Africanus: Liv. 30.45.3–4; Cato: Liv. 34.46.2–3; Flaccus: Liv. 40.59.2. 17. See Veyne 1990: 201–91; Mouritsen 2001: 111 n. 60 for public munificence and electoral success. Assembled references for Macedonicus’s dedications at Astin 1967: 105 n. 5; according to Vell. Pat. 1.11.5, Macedonicus was the first to use marble in a public building, the temple to Jupiter Stator. On Roman public building in the post-Hannibalic war period, see Coarelli 1977.

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censorship. L. Anicius Gallus erected a temporary theater for his triumph in 167, but M. Fulvius Nobilior’s triumph was the most memorable of all. He and L. Scipio Asiaticus put on elaborate games with an eye to the censorship of 184.18 In the context of Roman political life, we may regard the scale of the material objects displayed in triumphs and other public displays, the buildings dedicated by victorious commanders, and the games put on before the populace as a disruption of prior boundaries of Roman aristocratic political culture, regarding culture here, with A. Appadurai, as “a bounded and localized system of meanings.”19 The events surrounding P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica’s consulate of 191 may be an example of the senatorial aristocracy’s collective response to the threat of individual magnificence. Scipio had vowed games during a battle against the Lusitanians in Spain in 194. The Senate refused to fund his games, and he was forced to celebrate them at his own expense. The senators thereby tarnished the general’s achievement by withdrawing official approval, and Nasica’s snubbing may have resulted from his failure to deposit spoils in the state treasury. In 187 Glabrio had faced charges of not having deposited sufficient booty in the treasury after his triumph, and this scandal dashed his censorial aspirations.20 Such scenarios are indicative of the beginnings of a historical process that in the first century would culminate in the great warlords and the eclipse of senatorial authority. But in our period the most successful of the returning generals, enriched by war spoils, already posed the threat that very few individuals, controlling enormous wealth and an extensive clientage, would dominate senatorial politics. The senatorial aristocracy therefore felt increasingly hard-pressed to curb successful individual Roman commanders; conversely, defeated generals, imperatores victi, frequently received senatorial pardon and went on to enjoy successful political careers.21 The design was to preserve the ruling senatorial class as a cohesive body with common values and common interests, without allowing individuals either to grow too great or to plummet too far.22 Historical developments, as we have seen, increasingly placed strains on this design, and from the early second century the playing field of Roman aris18. Glabrio’s triumph: Liv. 37.46.2–5; congiaria: Liv. 37.57.10–12; Anicius: Plb. 30.22.1–12; Nobilior: MRR 1.369; cf. Larsen 1968: 441–42 for Nobilior’s depredations in Ambracia; Gregory 1994: 84 n. 14 assembles references for other stunning triumphal displays. 19. Appadurai 1986: 15. 20. References for Nasica at MRR 1.352; Glabrio: Liv. 37.57.9–58.2. 21. See Rosenstein 1990 passim. 22. See briefly North 1981/82: 6; cf. Rosenstein 1993 for evidence of political considerations apparently overriding military exigencies regarding consular elections in the minds of senators. See Richardson 1975 for senatorial controls on the celebrations of triumphs in our period.

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tocratic politics greatly increased in scope and promised to be anything but level.23 In the political consciousness of the senatorial class, as reflected in the pervasive ideological dread of the demagogic tyrant studied in chapter 6, the danger of the enormously successful Roman commander lay in the unholy alliance of charismatic general-cum-politician and the soldiery and urban mob, the unruly and highly volatile vulgus. In the first half of the second century the historical developments we have been considering gave substance to these fears, and changes in the physical environment and demography of Rome in the period from ca. 200–150 added to them. In this period the growth of the vulgus at Rome created menacing crowds and the potential for urban violence. By midcentury the population of the city of Rome itself may have been nearly a quarter million; and the city’s population would increase at a breathtaking pace in the century and a half to follow: in the 40s those eligible for state-subsidized grain rose to some 320,000.24 In census years the registration of soldiers whom the censors judged to have been discharged without warrant at the dilectus and potential recruits from the vicinity of Rome often overcrowded the city.25 Latins, and later Italians who could leave male descendants in their native towns or villages, flocked to Rome, where they could receive Roman citizenship cum iure suffragii. In 187 the Roman authorities expelled from the city some 12,000 who had fraudulently laid claim to the Roman franchise, and legislation in 177 and again in 173 restricted citizenship per migrationem et censum.26 The potential for urban unrest and violence grew with the urban population.27 The urban poor of Rome lived in miserable, squalid conditions, often on the brink of starvation, dependent on the precarious grain shipments, which the state subsidized in 203, 201, 200, and 196.28 Mass rioting was an ever-present threat, and it must be remembered that Rome had no specialized state agency in this period for maintaining public order.29 An

23. For sortition as a device to help preserve a level playing field for aristocratic competition, see the excellent study of Rosenstein (1995). 24. Brunt 1971: 384 estimates, on the basis of a now-discredited argument deriving from the city’s water supply from aqueducts, an urban population of some 375,000 for the age of the Gracchi; I follow the more conservative figure of Garnsey, Gallant, and Rathbone 1984: 40. For the dole in the 40s, see Suet. Iul. 41, and further references at Brunt 1962: 69–70 nn. 6–10. 25. See Liv. 43.14.10 (169), with Brunt 1971: 37–38. 26. 187: Liv. 39.3.4–6; 170s: Liv. 41.8.6–7; 42.10.3, with Gabba 1989: 212–21. 27. See Astin 1967: 165–67, focusing on the 130s; and for the Late Republic, Brunt 1966; Lintott 1968: 67–88, 175–203; and now Millar 1998. 28. See Liv. 30.26.6; 31.4.6; 31.50.1; 33.42.8, with Yavetz 1969, focusing on the later Republic. On the precarious grain supply to the city in our period, see Garnsey and Rathbone 1985. 29. See Lintott 1968: 89–106; Nippel 1984; 1995 passim, esp. 4–84 on the Republic.

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incident in 213 provides an example of the difficulties the absence of such an agency could cause. In an attempt to suppress foreign cults in the city, the Roman authorities had great trouble in clearing the Forum and destroying the adparatus sacrorum.30 This potential for urban violence may account for the lex Aelia and the lex Fufia, which probably gave the chief regular curule magistrates, the consuls and praetors, the right of obnuntiatio over tribunician legislation, as well as limiting tribunician legislation to dies comitiales, eliminating such legislation from the twenty-four-day period between magisterial candidacy and electoral comitia, when Rome was overcrowded because of elections. These laws most likely represent senatorial attempts to curb tribunician agitation of the populace.31 The recruitment crises, which would reach fever pitch in the Gracchan era, were already a frequently disruptive force in the city before midcentury, when service in the Spanish theater was particularly unpopular. In 169 the consuls were prohibited from nominating military tribunes for four new legions; the people usurped that right. The incident is one indication of the recruitment difficulties of the 160s.32 In the 150s the senatorial aristocracy may have made political concessions regarding military service, including a limitation of overseas service to six years and the right of provocatio for the rank and file; and in 151 the growing tension over the levy resulted in the incarceration of the consuls.33 The urban mob at Rome in the first half of the second century, then, was unwieldy and could sporadically assert itself with the threat of violence or actual rioting. Much of the historical sketch I have been developing has given rise to the idea that the power of the populace in Roman political life has been underappreciated, and this debate calls for brief comment. In my view, while scholarship has demonstrated that we can no longer look to the “Iron Law of Oligarchy” as an adequate model for political life in the Roman Republic, scholarly attempts to make a case for “democratic Rome” in our period are exaggerated.34 Even in these turbulent years, if we must choose, “oligarchic’ is a better descriptive term than “democratic” for the Middle Roman Republic, when we consider the plutocratic structuring of the centuriate assembly, which elected consuls, praetors, and censors;35 the four 30. See Liv. 25.1.6–12, with Nippel 1984: 20–21; 1995: 22. 31. See Taylor 1962: 22–24; and assembled references at Yakobson 1999: 179 n. 85; cf. Mouritsen 2001: 34. On these laws and the Roman calendar, see Michels 1967: 94–98. 32. Liv. 43.12.7; cf. 44.21.2–3; ORF 3 no. 8 frags. 152–53, with Astin 1978: 118 and n. 46; Rich 1983: 317–18, 321 (with sources); Brunt 1988: 255 n. 69 for additional second-century evidence. 33. See Liv. Per. 48; cf. App. Ib. 49; Liv. Per. 55 (138); Taylor 1962: 24; Brunt 1971: 391–415; Harris 1979: 36–37, 46–50; Ste. Croix 1981: 335–36; cf. Brunt 1971: 393–94 on the lavish scale of donatives in the first half of the second century. 34. For the “Iron Law of Oligarchy,” see the classic study of Michels ([1915] 1949). 35. But when voting in the upper divisions was divided, the lower orders had more influence in elections than has been commonly assumed; see Yakobson 1999: 48–54.

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tribes of plebs urbana in the tribal assembly against the thirty-one rural tribes of the landed, socioeconomic elites;36 the bonds of the patron-client social institution; the restricted physical space of the meeting places of Roman electoral comitia, which allowed only a small percentage of eligible voters actually to vote; and the traditional reverence accorded to the auctoritas and dignitas of the Roman nobility.37 Of course there were popular elements in the Roman state structure—the popular assemblies and, at least theoretically, the tribunate—but the Romans never approached anything like the direct, participatory democracy of classical Athens.38 Indeed, the popular assemblies routinely carried out the Senate’s will; there are very few instances of the people rejecting a magisterial rogation.39 Although the debate on “democratic Rome” has had the beneficial effect of sharpening awareness of the nuances of Roman political life in the Middle Republic, it is, in my view, more accurate to describe middle republican Rome as a “competitive oligarchy tempered by the arbitrative powers of a popular element” rather than as a “democracy.”40 But what is important here are perceptions of the Roman senatorial aristocracy and the political actions that it took as a result of them. Conservative Roman senators were more concerned with the individual statesman who could articulate and direct the energies of the vulgus than with the Roman masses themselves.41 The senatorial aristocracy took steps to curb the charismatic individual politician and the politics of largesse toward the plebs urbana among its constituency. In addition to sumptuary legislation, the Senate restricted means for gathering funds for the celebration of games in 182, while a tribunician legislative initiative resulting in the lex Villia annalis of 180, perhaps in reaction to the careers of Scipio Africanus and

36. But cf. Millar 1998: 13–48: indigent citizens in rural tribes may have remained in those tribes after migrating to Rome or its vicinity in the Late Republic; see also Rich 1983: 299 and n. 55; Mouritsen 2001: 81 and n. 47. 37. See MacMullen 1980 for the small numbers who actually voted in the republican period; also Taylor 1966 passim. Millar (1984, 1986, and 1989) has led the revisionist argument for “democratic Rome”; the essays in Jehne 1995b provide a corrective (see 1 n. 4 for earlier modern representations of “democratic Rome”); Burckhardt 1990: 89–98 for specific criticisms of Millar’s thesis; see also Pina Polo 1996: 8–33 for the restrictions on popular sovereignty in republican Rome in comparison with democratic Athens; Yakobson 1999: 209–11 for incisive comments on the conservatism of the Roman electorate; Champion 1997c for expansion of the brief observations offered here. See now Mouritsen 2001, distinguishing the populus Romanus of Roman political discourse from the actual workings of Roman popular political institutions. Up-to-date bibliography on the question can be found in Lintott 1999, Yakobson 1999, and Mouritsen 2001. 38. Cf. Ste. Croix 1981: 340; Lintott 1987 for popular elements in the Roman constitution. 39. See Flaig 1995: 80–81 and n. 13; cf. Mouritsen 2001: 64–65. 40. See North 1990a (quotation from p. 20) and 1990b. 41. Cf. Liv. 45.10.10–11, with Deininger 1971: 204–5: C. Decimius spoke at Rhodes in 168, stating that his concern was not with the masses, but with the few who had incited them (paucos concitores volgi).

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Flamininus, had attempted to retard the careers of brilliant young politicians by imposing minimum age requirements for various steps of the cursus honorum. And in 179 the senators enforced the decree of 182, restricting expenditures for ludi.42 Such actions demonstrate the Senate’s collective will to counteract the rise of the extraordinary individual general-statesman, and legislation against ambitus, or electoral bribery, points in the same direction. Ambitus was on the increase from the decade of the 190s, and Roman legislation against it in 181 and again in 159 shows that in the early second century the practice had grown to alarming proportions. The growing urban population, socioeconomic dislocations in Italy resulting from Roman imperial success, and from 139 secret balloting for voting provided by the leges tabellariae meant that traditional political networks were breaking down, creating “floating votes” and new opportunities in Roman politics for the renowned Roman imperator with superior gloria, and the financial wherewithal to back it up.43 The Senate in our period, then, was keenly attuned to the dangers of the individual of outstanding talents in its midst, and it attempted to impose some safeguards against the threat. As we have seen, Roman aristocratic ideology concerns itself with the individual demagogic politician who might harness the irrational forces of the urban mob, largely through the politics of largesse, in subverting the republican form of government into tyranny. Indeed, we see the ideology in action in the 130s, when Ti. Gracchus’s opponents charged that the tribune had tried to use the city’s lowest orders in order to make himself tyrant.44 The purpose of the preceding discussion has been to show why these concerns would have been particularly salient in our period, as well as to furnish motivational contexts for Polybius’s criticisms of contemporary Greeks and his sustained self-representation as political conservative and enemy of radical politics. 42. Lex Villia annalis: Liv. 40.44.1–2, with Astin 1958; and now Brennan 2000: 170–71; expenditure on ludi: Liv. 40.44.10–11. On aristocratic competition, see Astin 1989: 174–80; cf. ORF 3 no. 8 frag. 203: Cato boasts that he had never lavished his money or that of his allies in order to win popular favor. For Roman sumptuary legislation in our period as an attempt on the part of the senatorial aristocracy to close ranks and ensure a level playing field for its members in political life, see Daube 1969: 117–28, esp. 124–26; Clemente 1981, esp. 7–14; cf. Bonamente 1980; and Baltrusch 1988: 48 on Roman motivations for leges sumptuariae; on individual self-representation in ludi votivi and the Senate’s attempts to impose controls, see now Bernstein 1998: 271–82, esp. 280. 43. See MRR 1.384 (181) and 1.445 (159) for the bribery laws; also Lintott 1990; Jehne 1995a; Yakobson 1992 and 1999 passim, with a focus on the Late Republic; MRR 1.482 for sources on the leges tabellariae, with the concise remarks of Lintott 1999: 43–49, esp. 46–49; Yakobson 1999: 124 nn. 1–2 for modern works; on the breakdown of traditional political networks, cf. Lintott 1999: 180. See now Yakobson 1999: 65–111 on “floating votes” and the limitations of the vertical patron-client model for political life in the Late Republic. 44. See Cic. Amic. 41 (regnum occupare conatus est); Plut. Ti. Gracch. 14 (c% mAllonti BasileAein Dn ^RamÊ).

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The Roman Senate and Demagogic Greek Politicians These concerns on the part of the Roman senatorial aristocracy, insofar as they emerge in Roman foreign policy in Greece, lead to a crucial point in my argument. From roughly 200 Rome became increasingly involved in international politics in the Greek east, and there we find suggestions that the Romans took a dim view of demagogic leaders and the politicization of the lower orders. Yet there was no consistent Roman policy among the Greek states in this period. Rome regularly first looked toward immediate political exigencies, and these often overrode ideological biases.45 The general Roman tendency, however, was to support wealthy landowners, to protect property, and to oppose social revolutionary activities.46 In his parlay with Flamininus in 195 Nabis stated the Roman predilection for timocratic regimes explicitly. In 194 Flamininus put power into the hands of the wellto-do in Thessaly; thereafter there was a property qualification for office holding there. Severe Roman measures ca. 144 against Dyme, an early member of the Achaean Confederation, may illustrate the point most dramatically of all. There a certain Sosus fomented disturbances, enacting “laws contrary to the type of government granted to the Achaeans by the Romans.” The Dymean sAnedroi reported to the praetorian proconsul Q. Fabius Maximus Servilianus; Fabius heard the case and passed judgment; Sosus and an accomplice Phormiscus were condemned to death; and a third conspirator was sent to Rome to stand trial.47 The Dyme inscription cannot bear the weight that some scholars have wanted to give it as a clear case of Roman authorities repressing radical socioeconomic reforms in Greece. R. M. Kallet Marx has argued cogently against reading more into this inscription than it can bear, although he concedes that the evidence for Roman support of property qualifications for office holding suggests that the Romans probably 45. See Gruen 1976a on the difficulties in assigning ideological class motivations among the principals of the Third Romano-Macedonian War; cf. Diod. 30.8 on Roman acts of generosity toward the ochlos in Greece and Rome’s ability to court inferiors because of self-interested motivations. Toynbee 1965: 1.266 n. 3 collects examples that further illustrate that political exigencies overrode political ideology; cf. Derow 1989: 310–11. 46. See Briscoe 1967; Ste. Croix 1981: 300–26, 518–37. Paus. 7.16.9–10 states that after Mummius’s sack of Corinth in 146, demokratia ceased to be a normal form of government in Greece, but we cannot base an argument on this late passage, riddled as it is with other inaccuracies: Kallet Marx 1995a: 57–76. 47. Nabis: Liv. 34.31.16–19, with Mendels 1978a: 41–43; Thessaly: Liv. 34.51.6; Plut. Flam. 12; Syll.3 674 (RDGE 9), lines 60–65; cf. RDGE 33 and commentary on p. 213 (“a very practical and clever maneuver to convince the wealthy classes that Rome will look after their interests”); cf. the case of the Macedonian republics at Liv. 45.18.6–7 (division into four republics a precaution taken against an improbus vulgi adsentator); 45.32.2, with Larsen 1945: 69 and n. 19; Dyme: Plb. 2.41; 4.59; Syll.3 684 (RDGE 43), with Schwertfeger 1974: 65–67; Ferrary 1988: 186–99; Kallet Marx 1995a: 72–73; 1995b: 141–43 on the date.

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aimed at debarring those in debt. But surely Greek statesmen in dire financial straits would be those most likely to foment socioeconomic disturbances. Precluding such men from office was not only a commitment to protect property, but also a safeguard against radical democratic revolution. The case of Achaean Dyme serves to bring the relevance of the preceding discussion for the pragmatic context of Polybius’s cultural politics into focus, as at Dyme we may have Roman action against radical democratic politics in a Greek, indeed in an Achaean, city.48 Now in Roman conceptions demagogic politics and unruly mobs were characteristic of Greece, and this Roman association of Greek political practices and demagogic popular leaders stirring up volatile masses may well have been very old. The temples of Diana and Ceres on the Aventine hill were of great antiquity and heavily influenced by Greek models. The temple to Diana, according to tradition, dated to the reign of Servius Tullius, while the temple to Ceres fell in 494, the same year as the great secession of the plebs and the creation of the tribunate. Dionysius of Halicarnassus states that the inspiration for the temple to Diana came from the Greek amphictionies of Asia Minor and that the stele set up at the temple was inscribed with “old Greek letters.” Pliny the Elder preserves Varro’s statement that Greek artists painted the terracotta sculptures on the temple to Ceres, and Cicero states that the rituals of the temple cult were of Greek origin and were called by Greek names. Moreover, the priestesses of the temple came from the Greek world, usually Magna Graecia. The Aventine, as the site of the plebeian secessiones, was of course the symbolic home of the disadvantaged among the Roman citizenry; indeed, the vow to Ceres was the result of a food shortage affecting the plebs, and the popular leader Sp. Cassius, a demagogue aspiring to tyranny in the Roman literary tradition, dedicated the temple to the goddess in the first year after the great secession of the plebeians.49 This material can only be suggestive, but in later periods the linkage of radical politics and Greece in Roman thought is unmistakable. Cicero provides what is perhaps the most vivid condemnation of radical democracy in Roman literature in his defense of the Roman propraetor in Asia for 62, L. Valerius Flaccus, and he speaks of it as something typically Greek. It was of 48. Kallet Marx 1995a: 68–70; 1995b: 129 n. 4 for those who too readily see Roman suppression of radical socioeconomic reform at Dyme. But note the destruction of public records: Syll.3 684, lines 6–7 (I follow the readings of Kallet Marx 1995b): tp% Dmprasev% kaB fuorp% tpn drxvn kaB tpn dhmosAvn grammatvn, and the description of the offense, suggestive of socioeconomic revolutionary activity, lines 11–13: oC diapra[ja]menoi taPta DfaAnonta moi tp% xeirAsth% k[atas]tasev% [k]a.B taraxp%; cf. Plb. 38.9.4 on the demagogue Critolaus urging on the Achaeans DpB tb xeArista. Roman census requirements: Liv. 34.51.6 (Thessaly); Paus. 7.16.9 (Mummius’s settlement). 49. Diana: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.25.3–26.5; Ceres: Plin. NH 35.154; Cic. Balb. 55; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 6.94.3 (Cassius’s dedication), with Cornell 1995: 263–65.

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course in Cicero’s interest to defame Greeks in this oration, and particularly Asiatic Greeks, as they comprised the prosecution’s witnesses against his client. Although we must make due concession to these circumstances of Cicero’s defense of Flaccus, one passage in particular serves as a prime illustration of the confluence of ochlocracy and Greek political life in Roman perceptions. Cicero contrasts the practice of the local Greek town meetings in Asia, where resolutions came about through outstretched hands and the excited howlings of an incited mob with the glorious custom of restraint and discipline of the Roman maiores. The Roman ancestors, unlike the Greeks, gave no power to the mass meeting (nullam vim contionis), carefully apportioning the orders, classes, and ages into centuries and tribes before any matter of state was brought to a vote. In this way issues could be vetted and scrutinized in a rational manner, a far cry from the Greek practice, which allowed irresponsible seated assemblies to carry the day. Cicero claims that not only was this the deplorable state of affairs among the Greek cities of his own day, but also that the excessive freedom and irresponsibility of its assemblies were primarily responsible for the downfall of old Greece. Even in glorious Athens, according to Cicero, men of no political understanding undertook senseless wars in their assemblies, placing seditious and dangerous men in positions of power and responsibility while driving the best men into exile.50 Cicero’s speech for Flaccus dramatically underscores Roman conceptions of unruly, radical-democratic political life in Greek states, and the Aventine hill as the locus for a convergence of early Greek influence and plebeian agitation suggests that the Roman association of the radical politicization of the plebs and Greek influences may have reached back to the earliest days of the Republic. But more important is an intriguing, and dramatic, example of the connection in our period. In 155, as we have seen, the famous Greek philosophical embassy came to Rome, Carneades delivered a memorable oratorical performance, and Cato worked to usher the ambassadors back home, before the deleterious political effects of Greek verbal dexterity could take root at Rome. In the following year the consularis P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica began a campaign to oppose the censors’ plans of building a stone theater in Rome. The initial work on the stone theater was later demolished. Lily Ross Taylor brought this action into connection with the passage from Cicero’s Pro Flacco. Romans stood at their contiones, and they were directed to their appropriate place in the comitia according to divisions by centuries and tribes into ranks, classes, and age groups. As we have seen, Cicero condemns the seated public meetings of the Greeks, where inexperienced men came to rash decisions, voting without the time to deliberate. 50. See Cic. Flacc. 7.15–17; cf. 24.57; Sest. 126: Cicero charges that corrupt practices in the contional addresses of Ap. Claudius Pulcher, praetor in 57, were Graeculorum instituto.

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Moreover, these meetings were often held in theaters (cf. Flacc. 7.16: in theatro imperiti homines). Nasica argued that a permanent stone theater would damage Roman public morality. Among the sources for Nasica’s opposition to the censors’ project, Augustine explicitly refers to Greek luxuria, and Appian relays that Scipio maintained that such a theater would be the locus of civil disturbances and that it was not fitting for the Romans to become accustomed to Greek enjoyments ( \EllhnikaP% cdypaueAai%).51 Taylor plausibly argued that Nasica’s real concern was that Romans not introduce the chaotic political practices of the Graeculi, who debated and voted while seated, often in theaters.52 Cato and Nasica would later clash in the famous debates over the destruction of Rome’s archnemesis Carthage, but they were in agreement on the dangers of the unruly mob.53 Both also apparently agreed on the demagogic nature of Greek politics and its dangerous influences in Rome. Concern over the conduct of Roman political assemblies makes sense of Nasica’s objection to a stone theater at Rome, since the absence of such a permanent theater had not prevented people from sitting at spectacles, as we know from Plautus’s prologues. Greek politicians astutely exploited both this conservative Roman political orientation and the Roman association of demagogy and Greek politics against their opposition before the Senate. The outstanding example here revolves around the event that brought Polybius’s political aspirations within the Achaean Confederation to an end: the Third Romano-Macedonian War. In the diplomatic preliminaries to this war, Eumenes II of Pergamum charged that Perseus had stirred up socioeconomic revolutions in the Greek world, giving his support to the masses in civil disturbances, notably in Aetolia, Thessaly, and Perrhaebia, and Marcius Philippus echoed the charge in alleging that Perseus had stirred up civil disturbances and destroyed the leading men in Aetolia.54 It is true that upon accession to the Macedonian throne, Perseus issued a decree set up in Delos, Delphi, and the temple of Itonian Athena, by means of which he granted a general amnesty to all debtors who had fled from Macedonia, to those exiled from Macedonia by court decree, and to anyone who had committed crimes against the king. As part of the general amnesty, the king promised to return confiscated or 51. See August. CD 1.31 (perhaps from Varro); App. BC 1.28. For the sources, see MRR 1.449; Taylor 1966: 31 n. 44; cf. Millar 1998: 220–23. 52. See Taylor 1966: 28–33, 107–8; cf. Edwards 1993: 139 and n. 5 for Roman moralists’ attacks on luxurious building; see Beacham 1992: 56–85 on early Roman temporary stages. 53. Cf. Plut. Cat. Mai. 27: Nasica warns that the fear of Carthage is necessary in order to curb the mad desires of the multitude (Ebrei tbn dpmon crpn gdh plhmmeloPnta). 54. See Liv. 42.13.8–9; App. Mac. 11; Liv. 42.40.7–8 for Philippus’s allegations. For the Roman commission of late 172 to various Greek communities, see MRR 1.413; Gruen 1984: 505–7.

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mortgaged property to the dispossessed. Polybius remarks that Perseus undertook these measures in order to “flatter the Greeks.”55 But there is nothing in Perseus’s amnesty decree to exclude the Macedonian upper classes as beneficiaries, and nothing to suggest that the king’s principal aim was to win the favor of the Macedonian masses. The idea that Perseus fomented social revolutions from 175/174 onwards in Aetolia, Thessaly, Perrhaebia, and elsewhere in Greece, which some modern scholars have accepted, has no solid historical foundation and is the result of Roman propaganda, built upon allegations of Perseus’s enemies in the Greek world. Concrete evidence for this Roman propaganda against Perseus comes from a decree set up at Delphi in 172/171, in which the Romans charge that by destroying leading men (diafueArvn toB% proesthkat[a%]), Perseus set social revolutions in motion (nevterismoB% DpoAei), causing serious misfortunes and disturbances, particularly in Aetolia, Thessaly, and Perrhaebia (elon tb Guno% eD[%] tara[xb%]).56 Aside from this inscription and the speeches of Eumenes and Marcius in Livy, no ancient historical narrative suggests that Perseus acted anywhere in the Greek world to stir up the lower orders into socioeconomic revolution. In the cold war leading up to the Third Romano-Macedonian War, then, the Romans heeded the warnings of Perseus’s enemies, who alleged that the king was a social revolutionary; and they apparently exploited an existing situation, the civil conflicts in Aetolia, Thessaly, and Perrhaebia, in order to make false charges against the Macedonian king. There is other evidence that charges of demagogy, of rousing the masses with promises of debt cancellation and the redistribution of property, were fairly commonplace allegations on the part of Greek statesmen attempting to gain an advantage with the Romans against their opponents. Plutarch reveals something of this propaganda in Rome’s war against Antiochus III. In Greece Antiochus was charged with having played the demagogue, and Plutarch provides a clue to the stories that were circulating in Greece in the late 190s in reporting that Greece was ruled by demagogues at the time of the war.57 In 196 Boeotians in their factional rivalries represented their opponents as rabble-rousers before Flamininus. In 192 Aetolian apokletoi were charged with attempting to stir up social revolution in Aetolia by courting the multitude, and we find

55. See Plb. 25.3.1–3 (CllhnokopePn), with Mauersberger s.v., col. 756; Syll.3 636, with n. 4. 56. See Syll.3 643, lines 21–24; cf. Liv. 42.11–14 (Eumenes); 42.40.1–11 (Q. Marcius Philippus); App. Mac. 11; Paus. 7.10.6; Diod. 29.33, with Mendels 1978b. For Perseus’s counterpropaganda at Delphi as Greek benefactor, see Plb. 25.3.2; Liv. 42.12.6; for epigraphical evidence for the propaganda value of Perseus’s dedications at Delphi, see Jacquemin, Laroche, and Lefèvre 1995, esp. 129–36; Lefèvre 1998: 140–41. 57. See Plut. Flam. 15; Cat. Mai. 12; also Liv. 35.34.3–4, with Mendels 1978b: 68.

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the same political strategy again in Aetolia in 171/170, when Aetolians accused one another of having stirred up the ochlos.58

Polybius, Achaean Politics, and the Roman Senate Polybius makes the same charges against the leaders of the Achaean Confederation at the time of the debacle of the Achaean War against Rome. These men, according to the historian, made Achaea ripe for socioeconomic agitation, and they proposed the alleviation of debt. Polybius’s condemnation of the Achaean politicians Diaeus and Critolaus and his disgust at the mob of manual laborers and artisans attending the Achaean meeting at Corinth in 146 showcase the historian’s essential political conservatism: Critolaus visited the different cities during the winter and called meetings, on the pretext that he wished to inform the people of the language he had used to the Lacedaemonians and the Roman legates at Tegea, but in reality for the purpose of accusing the Romans and giving the worst sense to all that they had said, by which means he inspired the crowds with hostility and hatred (dysmAneian kaB mPso% Dneirgazeto toP% gxloi%). At the same time he advised the magistrates not to exact payment from debtors or to admit into the prisons those arrested for debt. . . . As a result of such appeals to the rabble everything he said was accepted as true, and the masses (tb plpuo%) were ready to do anything he ordered, incapable as they were of taking thought for the future, and enticed by the bait of present favor and ease. . . . Never had there been collected such a pack of artisans and common men (plpuo% Drgasthriakpn kaB banaAsvn). All the towns, indeed, were in a drivelling state but the malady was universal and most fierce at Corinth. . . . Critolaus, thinking he had got hold of the very handle he had been praying for and of an audience ready to share his fervor and run mad, attacked the authorities and inveighed against his political opponents. . . . By dealing freely and systematically in such phrases he continued to incite and irritate the mob (parajyne toB% gxloy%). (38.11.7–11, 12.5–7, 10–11)

The narrative voice of the Histories could not dissociate itself from radical, demagogic political measures in sharper language than this, and consideration of Polybius’s political circumstances helps us to understand the outspokenness of the passage. The thousand Greek hostages, among whom Polybius was of course one, were brought to Rome because of uncertainties as to their political loyalties; more specifically, the hostages were suspected of proMacedonian sympathies. Perseus’s political enemies, principally Eumenes II of Pergamum, accused the Macedonian king of radical, demagogic politics throughout Greece, and, as we have seen, this charge seems to have been 58. Boeotia in 196: Plb. 18.43.7–11; Aetolia in 192: Liv. 35.34.2–3; in 171/170: Plb. 28.4.10–12.

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something of a commonplace in intramural Greek factional struggles before the Senate. The apparent ubiquity of this charge in Greek political battles in our period and the political circumstances of the hostages at Rome logically suggest that the hostages, as suspected supporters of Macedonia, also faced the same sort of allegations as we find in Eumenes’ charges and Roman propaganda against Perseus. On this view, Polybius himself most likely felt compelled to show that his own political views had nothing to do with political radicalism and pandering to the ochlos. But there can be no suggestion that the historian actually was of this political orientation; there can be no doubt as to Polybius’s genuinely conservative political views. Indeed, Polybius was from a prominent aristocratic family of Megalopolis, a leading Greek city in the Achaean Confederation, which was itself essentially conservative in its political structure.59 But the concern here is not with Polybius’s genuine political convictions, but rather with the political representations of Achaean politicians hostile to the historian and Polybius’s response to them. The frequency and vehemence of Polybius’s expressions of “anti-banausic” attitudes and his condemnations of radical, demagogic politics suggest that they may have been politically motivated. Objections to the speech before the multitude that Timaeus put into the mouth of Hermocrates at Gela (12.25k.1–26.9), the “anti-banausic” prejudices directed against Heraclides (13.4.4), the condemnation of demagogic, socioeconomic reformers such as the Aetolians Dorimachus and Scopas (13.1.1–2.5), Molpagoras of Cius (15.21.1–8), the Spartans Cleomenes (2.47.3–4; 4.81.14), Cheilon (4.81.1–14), Chaeron (24.7.1–8), and Nabis (13.6.1–8.7), and the agitators Lyciscus the Aetolian, the Boeotian Mnasippus, the Acarnanian Chremas, and Charops of Epirus, who covered his crimes by posing as the friend of Rome (32.5.1–6.9), are passages in which Polybius advertises his conservative political position and dissociates himself from radical politics.60 At this point it is necessary to examine the grounds on which Polybius’s enemies could have used this standard Greek charge of stirring up the multitude against him. Modern scholars have overlooked indications that Polybius, who had risen to the office of Achaean hipparch and would have been assured the strategeia had events on the international scene not turned against him, was himself a formidable orator in the Achaean Confederation. He opposed his father and frequently elected strategos, Lycortas, at a critical synodos of the Confederation in the fall of 170, and his more cautious policy 59. On Polybius’s aristocratic background, see conveniently Eckstein 1995b: 1–16; on the conservatism of the Confederation, cf. Syll.3 665, line 34: appointment of dicasts dristAndan; IG VII 188, line 9 (ploytAnda kaB dris˛Anda), with Walbank HC 1.221–22; Musti 1967: 200–201 and n. 151. 60. See Musti 1967: 203 and n. 156 for a catalogue of other classical “anti-banausic” passages. The following paragraphs summarize a fuller exposition at Champion 2004.

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toward Rome won over the assembly. At this time, at the behest of Attalus, the question arose of restoring the Achaean honors to the pro-Roman Eumenes II of Pergamum. The Achaean strategos Archon, Polybius’s political ally, supported the proposal to restore the honors, but he was unwilling to speak at length before the assembly on the topic. Polybius then arose and gave a lengthy oration (Dpoiasato pleAona% lagoy%), and his proposal, to restore those honors that were seemly but not those that were excessive, won the favor of the crowd. In this instance, Polybius’s proposal regarding the restoration of honors to the pro-Roman Pergamene king is of a piece with his overall policy regarding Rome—a cautious, middle-of-the-road approach (28.6.1–7.15). But what is important here is the evidence for Polybius as a polished and effective orator who carried the day on a sensitive issue at a tense political moment in the history of the Achaean Confederation. And this was not the only time that Polybius’s views coincided with the feelings of the Achaean multitude.61 Polybius again addressed a large Achaean political assembly in winter 169/168 at Sicyon. At the autumn Achaean synodos at Corinth Callicrates and his group had urged the Achaeans to look to Rome, observing a strict neutrality concerning Egyptian affairs and avoiding any action that might displease the Romans. What was at issue was a request for Achaean military assistance from the Ptolemaic court, asking specifically for one thousand infantry troops and two hundred cavalry under the command of Lycortas and Polybius. The debates were heated (29.23.2), and when it looked as if the Achaeans were ready to send aid to Egypt, Callicrates broke off the discussion, arguing that it was unlawful to take counsel on military matters at an Achaean synodos. Later in 169/168 at the special meeting at Sicyon the Achaean historian played a prominent role (29.24.7: malista toP PolybAoy diorgizomAnoy), supporting independence and autonomy from Rome in Achaean international diplomacy. Stressing that Achaean assistance to Egypt would in no way compromise Achaea’s ability to assist Rome upon request, Polybius won over the Achaeans to vote for military assistance to the Ptolemies. But a courier then arrived with a letter from the proconsul in Macedonia, Q. Marcius Philippus, enjoining the Achaeans to follow the Roman policy of mediation. Polybius withdrew his proposal. At least on the historian’s own reconstruction, then, Polybius appears to have been a dominant voice in both the Achaean synodos in fall 170 and the Achaean synkletos in winter 169/168. At Sicyon he had stressed Achaean political autonomy in 61. E.g., 29.23.9 (aid to the Ptolemies in 168); 30.32.1–12, esp. 11–12; 33.3.1–2 (disappointment over Senate’s decision on the Achaean hostages), with Musti 1967: 183 and n. 92. Cf. 2.38.6 for Polybius’s admiration of the degree of free speech (parrhsAa) in Achaean political assemblies.

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the face of Roman power. In both instances he apparently demonstrated powerful oratorical skills in front of large political assemblies. In this context there is a temptation to read the historian’s statement that politicians should not be long-winded in public orations but rather get to the point (36.1.6–7) as a defense against charges Polybius’s political foes may have made of his dangerous influence in the Achaean political assemblies. Although Polybius broke with his father, Lycortas, in the tense political debates concerning Achaea’s relations with Rome in 170, he was in his overall policies associated with the Philopoemen-Lycortas-Archon group in the Achaean Confederation. Indeed, Polybius wrote a eulogistic biography of Philopoemen, proudly reported the restoration of Lycortas’s public statues throughout Greece, and worked closely with the Achaean statesman Archon.62 Both Philopoemen and Lycortas garnered popular favor among the Achaeans and displayed the same sort of oratorical abilities before large crowds in difficult situations as Polybius was to do in fall 170 and winter 169/168. Philopoemen’s funeral was the celebration of a popular hero and, according to Plutarch’s dramatic account, his death acutely grieved the entire populace of Megalopolis, including old men, women, and children.63 Polybius praises Philopoemen’s public speeches, maintaining that they were not long-winded but rather concise (11.10.3–6); and he argues that although Philopoemen lived in a democratic state and was careful not to incur the ill will of the Achaeans, the Achaean hero always spoke his mind, never currying popular favor (23.12.8–9). This has the look of political apology. In Roman eyes, Philopoemen was an anti-Roman troublemaker, and a Roman in the aftermath of the Achaean War attempted to have his statues removed throughout Greece as a malevolent enemy of the Romans, and was prevented only by Polybius’s intervention.64 Although a less spectacular figure than Philopoemen, Lycortas demonstrated skill in handling the crowd and provided fodder for political enemies to charge that he was essentially antiRoman. In summer 182 the Messenians surrendered to Lycortas and faced Achaean retribution for the death of Philopoemen at Messene. Lycortas’s terms were simply that the Messenians hand over the authors of Philopoemen’s murder. The Achaean strategos entered the city and addressed the Messenian ochlos, winning their goodwill by promising that they would never repent of having entrusted themselves to his care.65 Two years earlier Lycortas had excoriated the Romans in a public speech, charging that the Romans 62. 63. 64. 65. 63.

Philopoemen: 10.21.5–8; Lycortas: 36.13.1–2; Archon: 28.6.1–7.15; cf. Liv. 41.24.1–18. See Plut. Phil. 21; cf. Plb. 39.3.1, with Eckstein 1995b: 242. See 39.3.3–11; Plut. Phil. 21. 23.16.1–13; cf. Liv. 39.50.9; Plut. Phil. 21; assembled references at Gruen 1984: 495 n.

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acted toward the Achaeans as masters to slaves, rather than as the equal allies that they ostensibly were.66 It would therefore have been easy for Polybius’s political opponents in the Achaean Confederation to make the charge that Polybius and his political heritage were well disposed toward the Achaean ochlos, and hostile to Roman interests. Roman suspicions of course led to Polybius’s extradition to Italy in autumn 167; indeed, in winter 170/169 the Roman legates C. Popillius Laenas and Cn. Octavius had been prepared to accuse Lycortas, Archon, and Polybius openly as opponents of Rome’s friends in Achaea before an Achaean assembly at Aegium (28.3.4–10; cf. 28.12.1). The historian’s association with Scipio Aemilianus in his Roman period would not have served to alleviate such Roman suspicions regarding the Achaean statesman. Polybius advertises himself as the mentor to Scipio, and we have seen that he strives to represent his charge as a temperate man who subscribed to oldtime Roman virtues in contrast with most of his young, debauched Roman contemporaries. Scipio, according to Polybius, did not go in for the contemporary Roman youth’s fascination with the law courts, nor did he spend his time in the manner of many of his peers, currying favor with the Roman people in the Forum. And he did not become addicted to the seductive frivolities of Greek culture, also unlike many of his contemporaries.67 This again looks as if it may be political apology. It is important to remember that Scipio’s career was radically unorthodox; it is only in the last years of his life and in his reaction to the tribunate of Ti. Gracchus that he begins to look like a conservative. Earlier in his political career he may fairly be characterized as a proto-popularis: denied adequate funds by the Senate in 134 for his Spanish campaign, he remarked that he would raise an army from his own clients and resources; and he supported the secret ballot laws in the 130s, which threatened to disrupt the traditional networks of clientage in Roman politics.68 Scipio Aemilianus’s career recalled the brilliant exploits of his adoptive grandfather, and it also must have spawned some of the same fears among the Roman senatorial aristocracy.69 Scipio had run roughshod over the cursus honorum, violating the lex Villia annalis in assuming offices prior to reaching the minimum age requirement; he had destroyed Rome’s nemesis 66. See Liv. 39.37.9–17; cf. Paus. 7.9.3–4. 67. See 31.25.2–8, 28.12–13, 29.9–12. 68. Remark: Plut. Mor. 201b (Astin 1967: 259, app. II, no. 32); cf. App. Ib. 84, and Pun. 112 for popular pressure and a tribune’s threat to prevent consular elections overcoming the presiding consul’s refusal to accept Scipio’s irregular candidacy; Plut. Aem. 38 on Scipio’s censorship; Astin 1967: 26–34 (“Popularis”) for Scipio’s appeals to mass emotion; 130–31, 178–79 for Scipio’s support of the leges tabellariae; cf. Yakobson 1999: 128 and n. 12. 69. Cf. Rich 1983: 302 and n. 71; and App. Pun. 112 on Aemilianus’s influence with his troops: soldiers’ letters sent from Carthage influenced public opinion in the consular elections in 147.

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Carthage and thereby gained unprecedented gloria; and he was thoroughly familiar with Greek culture, having had King Perseus’s library for his own as a youth and later discussing political philosophy with the likes of the Greek intellectuals Panaetius and Polybius.70 In this context a passage from Plutarch’s Moralia is relevant. Although Polybius denies that Scipio courted popular favor, this intriguing report states that Polybius advised Scipio never to leave the Forum without gaining the friendship of one of his fellow citizens—advice that, if we can trust the historicity of Plutarch’s statement, those hostile to the historian easily could have turned into a charge of a populist political orientation.71 Polybius’s career before Pydna and his close association with Scipio Aemilianus, therefore, would have raised questions about his politics among members of the Roman senatorial aristocracy, and in its conservative representations the Histories provided a vehicle for allaying Roman suspicions. The preceding discussion strongly suggests that Polybius found himself compelled to rebut allegations that his political career in Greece and perhaps his political influence on Scipio Aemilianus at Rome ran counter to traditional, conservative Roman aristocratic political values. And Polybius’s text itself provides explicit testimony that the historian’s political enemies within the Achaean Confederation branded Polybius in the same colors as the historian himself uses to describe historical characters against whom he bore hostility. Now Callicrates of Leontium was the Achaean politician directly responsible for Polybius’s exile from Achaea in 167.72 In 180, according to Polybius, Callicrates had set his policy in motion against his political opposition within the Confederation as part of an embassy to the Senate. Callicrates charged that Lycortas and his political circle, by appealing to legalistic minutiae, had the favor of the mob, which was always hostile to Rome’s true interests: Upon their arrival in Rome, Callicrates on entering the senate-house was so far from addressing that body in the terms of his instructions, that on the contrary, from the very outset of his speech, he not only attempted to bring audacious accusations against his political opponents, but to lecture the senate. For he said that it was the fault of the Romans themselves that the Greeks, instead of complying with their wishes, disobeyed their communications and orders. There were, he said, two parties at present in all democratic states 70. See MRR 1.490 and 491 n. 1 for Scipio’s iteration of the consulship in 134 in violation of legislation of 151 and appointment to command in Spain by special vote; Astin 1967: 242–44 for a general assessment of Scipio’s political career; for Scipio, his contemporaries, and Greek culture, see Gruen 1984: 251–60; Rawson 1989: 237–38 on Scipio, Polybius, and Panaetius. 71. See Plut. Mor. 199f and 659e–f, with Ferrary 1988: 541 (erroneously citing the second passage as Mor. 659c). Münzer [1920] 1999: 205–58 remains a useful prosopographical analysis of the governing senatorial class during Scipio Aemilianus’s political career. 72. See 30.13.9–11, 32.1–12; Paus. 7.10.11, with Eckstein 1995b: 204–5 and n. 43; for ancient and modern sources on the charges brought by Callicrates, see Nottmeyer 1995: 88 n. 7.

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(dhmokratikaP% politeAai%), one of which maintained that the written requests of the Romans should be executed, and that neither laws, inscribed agreements, nor anything else should take precedence over the wishes of Rome, while the other appealed to laws, sworn treaties, and inscriptions, and implored the people (tb plauh) not to violate these lightly; and this latter view, he said, was much more popular in Achaea and carried the day with the multitude (Dn toP% polloP%), the consequence being that the partisans of Rome were constantly exposed to the contempt and slander of the mob (parb toP% gxloi%), while it was the reverse with their opponents. (24.8.9–9.6)

Callicrates goes on to accuse his opponents of recalcitrance to Roman injunctions at Messene and Sparta. Most important for the present argument, he repeatedly refers to his political opposition within the Achaean Confederation as rabble-rousers, charging that they are in league with the plethos, the polloi, the ochlos.73 This political context illuminates insistent themes in the Histories as politically defensive maneuvers: emphasis on the superiority of cool-headed rationality over emotional impulse, verbal association of radical demagogic politics and barbarism, and a decided preference for conservative political regimes. There remain the subterranean images of the “other” Romans in the Histories, the muted suggestions that the Romans were in essence barbaroi. In order to understand these images, we must turn to the political situation in Greece and Achaean reactions to the raw fact of political subjection to Rome. The final subjection was the end result of the tragic events of the 140s. According to our sources, the Achaean War against Rome, which culminated in the Roman destruction of Corinth in 146, was the greatest catastrophe for the Greeks in this period. The events leading up to the conflict are difficult to unravel, largely because of the paucity of sources and the biases of our two principal accounts, those of Pausanias and Polybius. There is, however, evidence to suggest that Rome was generally uninterested in what it must have viewed as petty and parochial squabbles within the Achaean Confederation, and Critolaus’s attempt to force Sparta back into the Confederation against Roman wishes does not necessarily reveal the act of lunacy relayed by Polybius. Given the ample historical precedents of Greek states ignoring Roman requests with impunity, we may perhaps regard the policy of the Achaean Confederation in 147/146 as a calculated gamble, rather than as a desperate act of insanity. In the end, the gamble failed and the Senate, perhaps safeguarding its planned resettlement of Macedonia, decided to stifle the unrest in Greece. Q. Caecilius Metellus’s army caught and defeated the contingents of the Achaean strategos Critolaus, who was setting out to besiege rebellious 73. On the pejorative sense of the term ochlos in Polybius, see Aymard 1938a: 81–82 and 82 n. 1; for Polybian distinctions between ochlos and polloi, see Nottmeyer 1995: 70 n. 118; cf. 80 n. 170.

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Heraclea, at Scarphea in Locris. The Roman general swiftly thereafter annihilated the Arcadian forces at Chaeronea, took over an evacuated Thebes, and destroyed the Achaean troops levied from Patrae in Phocis. At this point the Achaeans acted as if there were no turning back and made a desperate last stand at the Isthmus against Metellus’s successor Mummius, who would celebrate the infamous sack of Corinth as triumphator.74 Notwithstanding Rome’s disregard for Achaean affairs and patience regarding the disputes over Sparta’s relation to the Achaean confederacy, the fact remains that ultimately the Romans militarily extinguished Achaean resistance in 146. The venerable city of Corinth, the “bright star of Hellas,” as the poets called it, would lie in ruins for nearly a century before Julius Caesar restored it to life. Diodorus states that no one could either read or write about Greece’s misfortunes at this time without weeping, and he elaborates upon the Greeks’ miseries: The Greeks, after witnessing in person the butchering and beheading of their kinsmen and friends, the capture and looting of their cities, the abusive enslavement of whole populations, after, in a word, losing both their liberty and the right to speak freely, exchanged the height of prosperity for the most extreme misery. (Diod. 32.26.2, trans. Walton)

Justin’s epitome of Pompeius Trogus describes the Roman massacre of the Corinthian soldiers before the eyes of their families, who watched from the walls. The Corinthian wives and children, according to his account, soon became part of the spoils of war, transformed from spectators to Roman war captives. As the victorious troops entered the city, the unleashed force of Roman rapacity reached back over half a century in an echo of the outrages of Marcellus’s soldiers at Syracuse and Fabius’s contingent at Tarentum. Strabo informs us that Polybius himself was present to witness the mindlessness of Roman soldiers as they destroyed precious art objects and votive offerings. Some had thrown down masterpieces in order to play games of draughts upon them. Only at Polybius’s intervention were statues and decrees in honor of the great Achaean statesman Philopoemen and portraits of Achaeus, Aratus, and Philopoemen saved from destruction or expropriation. For many Greeks the events at Corinth in 146 must have belied any last shred of confidence in the Roman claims to membership in the Hellenic cul-

74. ILS 20: Achaia capta Corintho deleto. See Derow 1989: 319–23 for a concise account of the bellum Achaicum; sources for Scarphea at Deininger 1971: 234 n. 9. Mummius at Corinth: Paus. 7.15.11–16.10; Zonar. 9.31; Metellus’s campaigns: Paus. 7.15.5–6 (Arcadians); Plb. 38.16.10; Paus. 7.15.9–10 (Thebes); Plb. 38.16.4–9; 39.1.11 (Patraean contingent); MRR 1.465–67; cf. Habicht 1997: 274 on “the Romans’ barbaric annihilation of an old and famous city.” I follow the reconstruction of Gruen 1976b.

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tural commune, first officially pronounced in the aftermath of the First Illyrian War some eighty-two years before. The commander Mummius himself became renowned for his boorishness. Velleius Paterculus preserves an anecdote that Mummius told the contractors responsible for the transport of Greek paintings and statues to Rome that if they should lose any of them, they would have to replace them with new ones.75 The tragic events of the Achaean War of course ended any sort of real Achaean autonomy, and from an Achaean perspective, the charge that Lycortas had made in 184 that Rome treated Achaea as a master treats a slave now became in all essentials a political reality (Liv. 39.37.10–13). Some twenty years earlier the Roman victory at Pydna had already established Roman supremacy in Greece beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the immediate aftermath of that victory shattered Polybius’s political career within the Achaean Confederation. But it did not end his political influence. It is likely that the circumstances of Polybius’s Italian period, his privileged situation in relation to most of the other Achaean hostages, living comfortably in Rome with his own slaves and apparent freedom of movement (31.13.9), his friendship with powerful Roman politicians, particularly Aemilianus, and ultimately his cooperation with Rome in the resettlement of Greece after the debacle of 146 all would have raised suspicions of obsequiousness and sycophancy among Greek statesmen who harbored resentment at the loss of Greek political independence. In the collective historical conscience of the Achaean Confederation, discomfiture and embarrassment concerning Achaean relations with Rome reached back to 198.76 Achaea’s relationship with the Macedonian monarchy lay at the root of these collective pangs of conscience, and Polybius and Livian passages derived from Polybius provide the bulk of the evidence for them. Many Achaean poleis owed debts of gratitude to Macedonia. In 210/209, the Achaeans and other Greeks had beseeched Philip V for aid against the depredations of the Aetolians, Attalus I of Pergamum, and the Romans (10.41.1–2). In the early stages of the First Macedonian War, Philip had defended Sicyon and Corinth from Roman attacks.77 During his 75. See Just. Epit. 34.2.4–5; Strabo 8.6.23 (C 381); Plb. 39.2.1–2; Plut. Phil. 21; Mummius: Vell. Pat. 1.13.4; Dio Chrys. 37.42; cf. Toynbee 1965: 2.173 n. 16; Wardman 1976: 53 n. 65; Petrochilos 1974: 77–78; Cic. In Verr. 2.4.4 (also 2.4.135) for artwork abducted from Boeotian Thespiae in the aftermath of the bellum Achaicum; and Balsdon 1979: 172–76 for an overview of Roman looting of art objects from Greece and Egypt. 76. The following paragraphs closely follow Champion 2000b: 438–41. I thank the editors of Classical Philology for permission to reproduce this material here, with some modifications. 77. See Liv. 27.31.1–3; cf. Plb. 22.8.9–11: in 210 Galba stormed Achaean Aegina, sold all its inhabitants into slavery, and passed it on to the Aetolians, who in turn sold it to Attalus of Pergamum for thirty talents. Many Aeginetans were able to purchase their freedom, despite Galba’s blustering: 9.42.5–8, with Dahlheim 1968: 13 n. 8.

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second war against Rome, Philip actually returned cities to the koinon in order to ensure merely Achaea’s benevolent neutrality in the coming struggle.78 But Achaea suddenly severed its ties with Macedonia in autumn 198, joining Rome against Philip. Some Achaean statesmen viewed the volte-face of 198 as a political betrayal.79 No Achaean patriot could look back on the Achaean support for Rome resulting from the divisive Achaean meeting at Sicyon in 198 without some reservation. The strategos Aristaenus pushed through the resolution to join Rome only with the greatest difficulty; a certain Memnon of Pellene broke the deadlock of the Achaean damiurgi to put the proposal to assist Rome before the Achaean assembly only after having been threatened with death by his father (Liv. 32.22.5–8). When it became clear that the assembly would vote for assistance to Rome, the representatives from Dyme, Argos, and Polybius’s own hometown, Megalopolis, left the council rather than participate in the decision. The Argives shortly thereafter seceded from the Achaean koinon in declaring allegiance to Philip. According to Appian’s account, the Achaean majority favored Philip’s cause.80 Later in the war Philip publicly accused the Achaeans of ingratitude; after all his benefactions they had betrayed him to his enemy.81 The Achaean statesman Archon, with whom Polybius had close political connections, could look back on the decision of 198 from a quarter-century remove with regret, in light of Macedonian services to the Achaeans.82 Aristaenus was the foremost proponent in 198 of a reversal of traditional Achaean policy toward Macedonia. He apparently enjoyed close relations with Flamininus and, at least insofar as we can reconstruct the Polybian narrative of the lost book 17 from Livy, Polybius represented Aristaenus himself as the source for the Roman commander Flamininus’s policy of the “freedom 78. See Liv. 32.5.4–5; cf. Plb. 4.9.4 (Achaean oath of allegiance to Macedonia), with Aymard 1938b: 50–57. But see Errington 1989b: 262–63 for consideration of Philip’s tactlessness regarding Achaea before the outbreak of the war. On Macedonian and, later, Roman encumbrances on Achaean autonomy, see Aymard 1938a: 200–204; further discussion of close Macedonian/Achaean relations at Eckstein 1987a: 140–42; on Romano-Achaean symmaxAai, see Plb. 18.42.6–7; 23.4.12; Liv. 35.48.8, 50.1–2; 39.37.9–10, with Kallet Marx 1995a: 189 n. 29; for the formal Romano-Achaean treaty, probably of 192/191, see Badian 1952. 79. Cf. 30.7.3–4, with Nottmeyer 1995: 94 for Polybius’s sympathies for those who had remained loyal to King Perseus. 80. See Liv. 32.19.1–23.3, 24.1–7 (Elatia), 25.1–12 (Argos and Corinth); Achaean majority favors Macedonia: App. Mac. 7; cf. Paus. 7.8.2; extensive discussion of the Achaean assembly of 198 at Aymard 1938b: 79–102, and 80–81 n. 49 for the date; concise treatments at Deininger 1971: 42–46; Gruen 1984: 444–46. 81. See 18.6.5–8; Liv. 32.34.11–13; Aymard 1938b: 53–54 and nn. 27–28; Eckstein 1990: 68–69 and n. 74; cf. Liv. 34.23.6–7 (Alexander the Aetolian in 195): Achaeans as transfugas from Philip who received Corinth and sought Argos. 82. See Liv. 41.24.12–15.

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of the Greeks.”83 And Polybius takes great pains to present Aristaenus and his policies in a most positive light. In his comparison of Aristaenus and Philopoemen (24.11.1–13.10), Polybius represents Aristaenus as a politically astute politician who knew that political realities forced Achaea to look to its own advantage (tb symfAron) when honor (tb kalan) ceased to be a possibility. And indeed Achaea had benefited greatly from its association with Rome: regaining Corinth from Macedonia, recovering Argos, and being allowed to absorb Sparta and Messene. But in 24.11–13 the historian also praises the opposing policy of Philopoemen, who took a harder line, stressing the letter of the law in Achaean relations with Rome in order to stave off the inevitable Achaean subservience to the Romans for as long as possible. Polybius also took care to preserve Lycortas’s hard-line speech against the Roman hegemony (Liv. [P] 39.36.6–37.18), and, as we have seen, he reviles the excessively pro-Roman Callicrates. The ambiguity in these passages is suggestive of the tensions that must have arisen concerning Polybius’s own cautiously ambivalent policies toward Rome in 170–168. Polybius’s opposition to his father Lycortas’s neutrality with a more pro-Roman policy in 170 must have brought with it a good deal of discomfiture for the historian; in his account Polybius does not conceal the fact that Lycortas and many other Achaeans, political heirs of the policies of the Achaean hero Philopoemen, took a dim view of any unnecessary collaboration with the Romans.84 Upon entering the office of hipparch, as we have seen, Polybius supported the restoration of Achaean honors to the pro-Roman Eumenes of Pergamum; but he rejected those he considered to be excessive (28.7.3–15). He later delayed the full Achaean levy’s support of the Roman commander Q. Marcius Philippus; but he himself shared Marcius’s dangers (28.13.1–7). Polybius became unwillingly involved in Roman factional politics between Philippus and the legate Ap. Claudius Cento. Cento had requested support from the Achaeans for operations in Epirus, but Marcius instructed Polybius to see to it that the Achaeans not comply with Cento’s request. Polybius was in a delicate position (28.13.11: dysxrastoy kaB poikAlh% CpouAsev%): he could not reveal Marcius’s imperative to the Achaeans assembled at Sicyon, but opposing the request in public brought its own dangers. In the end he appealed to Achaean legalities, taking up the position of Philopoemen and Lycortas, arguing that the koinon 83. See Liv. 32.21.36 (libertas); for DleyuerAa as a constant, underlying principle of Achaean policy in Polybius, see 2.37.9–11, 42.6–7, 43.8–9 (Aratos); 58.1–3 (Mantinea); 69.1–2 (Sellasia). Aristaenus himself probably stressed the Achaean principle of freedom, as suggested by his dedication to Flamininus at Corinth: SEG 22.214, with Eckstein 1990: 62–63. See Ferrary 1988: 83–88 for a brief account of the Greek diplomatic antecedents of Flamininus’s eleutheria-theme. 84. See 28.6.1–9, with Pédech 1969: 255–58; Musti 1978: 77–78; Walbank 1985: 282–83.

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could honor only such requests as had the sanction of a senatus consultum.85 After leaving office, Polybius joined Archon and Lycortas in supporting an Achaean military mission on behalf of the Ptolemaic kingdom against Seleucid aggression, but he withdrew his support for this measure after Marcius Philippus urged the Achaeans to adopt the Roman policy of mediation (29.25.5–6). Polybius’s independent political agency, then, had already been compromised before Pydna, for even on his own interpretation of events, he had had to steer a middle course between Achaean patriotism and politically necessary cooperation with Rome. Moreover, he had had firsthand experience of Roman duplicity. These events suggest that early on Polybius’s political interactions with Romans, while he was still an important politician in the Achaean Confederation, were filled with complexity, discomfort, and embarrassment.86 And it is worth remembering that none of Polybius’s careful measures prevented his political exile to Rome. It is therefore reasonable to see the defense of Aristaenus as in part a defense of Polybius’s own cautious policies. Another well-known passage, the “Fragment on Traitors,” as a retrospective defense in book 18 of Aristaenus’s policy in 198, provides further evidence for both Polybius’s apparent need to justify his own middle-of-the-road policy toward Rome before an Achaean audience and the presence of a persistent Achaean belief that the decision of 198 had somehow betrayed Achaean political principles.87 Dissident Achaean voices showed the continued popularity of Philopoemen over against the pro-Roman Aristaenus in 185; many Achaeans were deeply suspicious of Aristaenus and Diophanes for working in the Roman interest (22.10.14–15; 24.13.10). The Senate’s vagueness and temporizing on the Spartan question dating from 189 and Roman irresolution regarding the repatriation of the exiles of 168, of whom Polybius was of course one, ensured continued hostility toward the Romans in some Achaean circles.88 In this context, one may well wonder how an Achaean readership would have read the passages in the Histories in which Romans emerge as practitioners of Hellenic logismos. On the basis of the long-standing Achaean reservations 85. On Achaean observation of legalities in relations with Rome, cf. 22.12.5–10; 23.4.12–14; Liv. (P) 38.32.8; 39.37.9–10. 86. On these events, see Eckstein 1995b: 5–6. The negative remarks on Roman nova sapientia in the 170s in a Polybian passage in Livy perhaps further reflect Polybius’s discomfiture: Liv. (P) 42.47.9, with Briscoe 1964; Nissen 1863: 249–54, esp. 252 on the Polybian derivation. 87. See 18.13.1–15.17 (explicit mention of Aristaenus at 13.8–11), with the analysis of Eckstein 1987a; already Nissen 1863: 326, second note. 88. See conveniently Gruen 1984: 119–23 and literature cited there on Achaea’s conflict with Sparta; cf. Pédech 1969: 252–55 for a concise account of the frictions down to Polybius’s hipparchy. For Polybius’s own anger and disappointment over the hostage issue, see 30.32.1–12; 33.1.3–8, 3.1–2.

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regarding the decision to join the Romans in 198 and Roman temporizing over both the Achaean exiles and the Spartan question, we have good reason to believe that Polybius’s warm praise of the Roman achievement and his incorporation of Romans into the Hellenic commune of civilized peoples in such passages as 2.35 would hardly have been well received by some Achaean politicians. It is in the context of Achaean politics, therefore, that we should read the subtexts in the Histories that suggest that the Romans are indeed barbarians—messages that demonstrate Polybius’s independent political agency, and that would have been congenial to those Achaean compatriots who harbored regret and resentment at the Roman hegemony.

Political realities—traditional Roman political conservatism, genuine Roman ambivalence regarding Greek culture, profound changes in the game of Roman senatorial politics resulting from Roman imperial success, and a Roman association of radical, demagogic politics and Greek political life—illuminate the narrative structure of the Histories and the cultural politics of Polybius’s representations of Romans. Polybius constructed Hellenism as a matter of institutions and customs. It is the exercise of restraint, moderation in success, a balanced perspective in failure, and above all the subordination of individual desires to the communal good. In short, Polybius’s Hellenism is the exercise of a far-seeing rationality, logismos (see appendix C). In the political realm, Polybius’s logismos and his Hellenism translate into polities that are essentially conservative, and these ideas conform to traditional Roman aristocratic political values. Such states exhibit a “true” Polybian Hellenism. The Histories in large part serve as a didactic lesson to the Romans, calling them back to their ancestral virtues. Polybius’s work also warns them of contemporary vices and incipient signs of societal decay, which ultimately will take the form of ochlocracy or cheirokratia. Moreover, Polybius routinely castigates socioeconomic reformers and brands ochlocracy as the most deplorable form of government. There we find the reign of thumos, as these states are led by demagogues who pander to the irrational desires of the masses, throwing all into confusion and disorder by disturbing property and the privileges of wealth. In condemning a political form that was anathema to Roman senators, the historian again conforms to conservative Roman political ideals. What is striking in terms of Polybius’s cultural politics is that he employs the language of barbarism in order to describe the corrupted democracy (see appendix A). Most significantly in the political context we have been considering, the narrative voice of the Histories is that of respectable, “old” Greece and of the exercise of logismos, sharply dissociated from contemporary Graeculi the likes of Diaeus and Critolaus, demagogues who share many of the qualities of Polybian barbarians. Polybius, then, engaged the politico-cultural system of Hellenism in ways that would

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have been congenial to many of his Roman readers; and his cultural politics provided a sustained disavowal of a populist political orientation, which his political opponents in Greece almost certainly had brought against him. Regarding Polybius’s Achaean audience, authorial motivations for indirectly (and occasionally directly) subverting the image of Romans as a civilized, “Hellenic” people, for giving expression to the Greek charge of Roman barbarism, and for demonstrating independent political agency are patent. Yet in light of Polybius’s political predicament, there obviously would have been dangers in attempting to assert any such independence containing seeds of dissidence in blatantly overt terms. For this reason it may be best to reject as Polybian a passage in Diodorus stating that the Romans hold onto their empire through the exercise of terror.89 On the other hand, Polybius overtly condemns Rome’s theft (3.30.4: dfaAresi%) of Sardinia in the aftermath of the First Romano-Carthaginian War as an injustice (3.28.1–2) that led to the cataclysm of the Hannibalic War. In these instances he therefore seems to judge the Romans and their actions independently, and we have considered intriguing evidence for Polybius suggesting in his own voice that the Romans were barbaroi (12.4b.1–c.1). But more frequently Polybius makes the suggestion of Roman barbarism more subtly in the guise of indirect historian. As we have seen in chapter 6, the medium of the reported speech allowed Polybius to give voice to the charge that the Romans were barbarians, providing him with a vehicle for practicing the art of relatively safe criticism. This sort of criticism would have served to allay suspicions on the part of the historian’s Achaean compatriots that he had compromised his integrity and his patriotism in his close contacts with Romans. Polybius clearly did admire many qualities in the Romans, but in his representations of Romans as barbarians the Achaean patriot was also able to assert his independence in expressing negative aspects of Roman behavior. 89. See Diod. 32.2, 4.4–5; Walbank 1985: 289–90; Eckstein 1995b: 225–29; cf. Shimron 1979/80: 106–7 and n. 46; Ferrary 1988: 334–39, and 335 n. 217 for modern arguments, for and against. Shimron 1979/80: 101 n. 26 suggests that Polybius hints at censorship at 31.22.11. For Diodorus’s use of Polybius, see RE 5 (1903), cols. 689–90 s.v. Diodoros (38) (Schwartz); for an independent anti-Roman strain in Diodorus, see Sacks 1990 passim; 1994.

Conclusion We wanted to delve as deeply as possible into the creative matrices of particular historical cultures and at the same time we wanted to understand how certain products of these cultures could seem to possess a certain independence. catherine gallagher and stephen greenblatt, Practicing New Historicism

This study has attempted to understand Polybius as individual statesman and historian through his uses of one of the dominant themes of his cultural heritage, the Greek politico-cultural grammar of Hellenism. The methodology has been to track Polybius’s narrative representations of Roman, Achaean, and other collective group characters and to situate these in the ideological and political contexts in which he worked. The framework within which Polybius worked out his collective representations was the Greek cultural construction of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity, and throughout I have tried to locate the Romans on a Polybian Greek-barbarian grid. I have argued that Polybius was not some sort of automaton in this regard, that he did not merely reflect the dominant language of Greek politico-cultural discourse; rather I have maintained that Polybius ingeniously manipulated the politico-cultural language of Hellenism in response to his own political circumstances and to the realities of Roman power. I have also maintained that we can discern the political meaning of Polybius’s collective representations by establishing historical contexts for them, without unduly concerning ourselves with recovering the historian’s subjective operations and conscious intentions in writing his history. In our search for the Romans on a Polybian Hellenic-barbarian continuum, we have found that the Romans do not occupy a fixed position; rather they slide between the poles of Hellenism and barbarism. I have maintained that this ambiguity was a response to political circumstances. In Polybius’s day Roman power had overcome the Greek world. Greek politicians in Polybius’s lifetime had had to come to terms with that harsh fact, and the cultural politics of Hellenism proved to be a powerful tool in coping with the Roman hegemony. Greek statesmen used the Greek-barbarian dichotomy instrumentally in an attempt to ameliorate their subjected 235

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position to their Roman masters. When Romans acted on behalf of the Greeks and according to Greek interests, Greeks exercised a politics of cultural assimilation by means of which the Romans became quasi Hellenes; when Romans treated Greeks harshly or acted in brutal fashion in Greek lands, they became barbaroi through a Greek politics of cultural alienation. As we have seen, Polybius provides striking illustrations of both approaches, as in his representation of the Romans as “Hellenic” champions overcoming barbarian hordes in his summation of the Gallic tumultus of 225 (2.35), and in his indirect suggestions that the Romans were barbarians in the speeches of Agelaus, Lyciscus, and [Thrasycrates]. These seemingly incongruous representations, when placed in their contemporary aristocratic ideological contexts and within the pragmatic circumstances in which Polybius worked, are best understood as a politics of cultural indeterminacy. We commonly speak of Greco-Roman antiquity. With a focus on Augustan Rome and later periods in Roman history, when the cultural amalgamation was much more complete and when Horace could write of the triumph of Greek culture over the Roman conqueror, it is all too easy for us to underestimate the strangeness that Rome will still have presented to a Greek of Polybius’s day. Polybius’s contemporary Greek visitor to Rome will have been bewildered by the public display of the auctoritas of the Roman magistrate, with his attendant lictors and apparitores, and the seemingly endless variety of Roman priests, with their mystifyingly punctilious observance of religious ritual; he will have been resident in the powerful, non-Greek city that had conducted a pogrom against a Greek cult in 186 and that had practiced human sacrifice within living memory. The pageantry of the Roman triumph, the pomp of the Roman aristocratic funeral, the public lust for blood in the Roman gladiatorial arena all will have had an alien, “barbaric” quality about them for a Polybius, a quality that they would not have had for a Plutarch, who lived in a later age when Greeks had had more time to adjust to Roman cultural practices. Polybius was indeed a stranger in a strange land. In this difficult environment Polybius’s text was a masterly adaptation of the politico-cultural language of Hellenism to the political fact of Roman supremacy in the Mediterranean world. In book 6, Polybius eschews genealogical and climatic commonplaces as explanations for collective group characteristics, explicitly stating that political and social institutions determine ethnic-cultural traits; the virtues of Hellenism (rationality, moderation, foresight, and so on) are for the historian a function of institutional structures. Consequently, as institutions are subject to historical forces of change, so are legitimate claims to Hellenic virtue. In Polybius’s political theory, the most degenerate political form, also apparently the farthest removed from true Hellenism, is ochlocracy, radical democracy or irrational mob rule. In the early books, both Romans and Achaeans generally exhibit the Hellenic virtues. Here Roman and Achaean enemies serve as foils, demon-

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strating the negative group characteristics constituting barbarism: irrationality, greed, short-sightedness, and uncontrolled emotion. As the work proceeds, however, both Roman and Achaean collective group characters deteriorate. In terms of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity, both groups have begun to slide into barbarism. This cultural degeneration is due to institutional decay, and its nadir is ochlocracy. Polybius’s stress on institutional factors in the formation of the Roman and other collective group characters, therefore, afforded him the greatest flexibility in his representations of the world conqueror, allowing him to represent the Romans alternately as quasi Hellenes and as barbarians. And we may reflect upon Polybius’s subsequent influence on Greco-Roman cultural politics. Polybius clearly contributed to the articulation of a distinctive cultural identity for the Romans; and we may consider later Roman articulations of the Romans as a distinctive “third type,” a tertium genus, which appropriates the best of the “old Greeks,” as indebted to the Achaean historian. The Roman articulation of this appropriation would result in the Roman adherence to the severe classicizing, Apolline style as “Roman,” and the Roman rejection of the debased, overly ornate Dionysiac style of the Hellenistic baroque as unmanly and “un-Roman,” a product of the enervated and corrupted contemporary Greek world. We see this articulation in the ingenious manipulation of cultural symbols in Octavian-Augustus’s propaganda wars against Marc Antony, so well documented in Paul Zanker’s Power of Images in the Age of Augustus. I suggest that we may view Polybius’s distinction between a conservative, “true Hellenism” of the past and the excessively indulgent and licentious Greek practices of his contemporary world as a significant contribution to these subsequent Roman uses of Hellenism. But the emphasis in this study has been upon Polybius’s uses of Hellenism in the contemporaneous ideological and political contexts of the Histories’ composition. Greek politicians in this period charged their political enemies before the Senate with radical demagogic politics, and it is likely that Polybius faced this charge prior to his extradition as political prisoner to Italy. This point has been crucial in the concluding analysis, where three important findings have emerged. First, many of Polybius’s implicit and explicit criticisms of Rome conform to what Roman statesmen, men such as Cato the Elder, were saying about themselves in Polybius’s lifetime. Roman conservatives bemoaned the loss of pristine Roman moral virtue. They complained of luxury and lax discipline, both allegedly concomitant with Greek influences, and characteristic of Polybius’s ochlocracy. Second, there are remarkable verbal parallels between Polybius’s descriptions of barbarians and his account of popular leaders and mob rule in book 6 (appendix A). The author thus indirectly disavows demagogic politics, employing the politicocultural grammar of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity in order to drive home his point. Here again, he conforms to Roman political ideas, as evi-

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dence shows that the Roman senatorial aristocracy loathed proposals for land redistribution and debt cancellation, favoring hegemonial control through local landed aristocracies. In both findings, therefore, Polybius’s text aligns itself with conservative Roman aristocratic political ideas. Finally, Polybius’s indirect historiography exposes ambiguities with regard to Rome, and in so doing he indirectly subscribes to widespread anti-Roman Greek sentiment. For example, signs of Roman political degeneration appear before the battle at Pydna in 168, the stated turning point for the worse in the evolution of the Roman politeia. Moreover, Polybius allows Greek ambassadors to call Romans barbarians, something he does only once in his own narrative voice (12.4b.1–c.1). In these indirect suggestions of Roman barbarism, Polybius undercuts the main lines of his narrative, which suggest that progressive Roman degeneration was a result of institutional atrophy. In these passages, Polybius suggests implicitly that the Romans were barbaroi all along. I have suggested that through such devices the historian, with his eye on Greek public opinion and perhaps his eventual repatriation, demonstrated his own independent political agency. Scholars have rightly admired Polybius’s history through the centuries for its honesty and accuracy, and for its commitment to historical truth. But I maintain that the historian’s integrity did not preclude a politically motivated manipulation of Greek politico-cultural discourse. In a passage near his work’s end Polybius reveals something of this symbiosis of commitment to historical truth and concession to political realities: Now neither do I think that a man who is timid and afraid of speaking his mind should be regarded by those qualified to judge as a sincere friend, nor that a man should be regarded as a good citizen who leaves the path of truth because he is afraid of giving temporary offense to certain persons; and in a writer of political history we should absolutely refuse to tolerate the least preference for anything but the truth. For inasmuch as a literary record of facts will reach more ears and last longer than occasional utterances, a writer should attach the highest value to truth and his readers should approve his principle in this respect. In times of danger it is true those who are Greek should help the Greeks in every way, by active support, by cloaking faults and by trying to appease the anger of the ruling power, as I myself actually did at the time of the occurrences; but the literary record of the events meant for posterity should be kept free from any taint of falsehood, so that instead of the ears of readers being agreeably tickled for the present, their minds may be reformed in order to avoid their falling more than once into the same errors. (38.4.3–9)

Polybius’s representation of Romans is a subtle play with the principles of polarity and analogy. Romans, especially in the early books, exhibit decidedly Hellenic virtues; they are analogous to Greeks at their best. Frequently, however, Romans stand in polar opposition to Greeks in their utter strangeness. This study has revealed aspects of political didacticism, admonition,

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and apology in a historical work whose subtleties have gone largely unnoticed. In closing, we may well remember that Polybius himself experienced the crushing blow of expatriation and political arrest in Rome, that he soon befriended Scipio Aemilianus and other powerful Roman statesmen, enjoying considerable privileges in Rome, and that in the end he served as a mediator in the Roman resettlement of Greece, earning high praise from both Romans and his Greek compatriots for his services. It is tempting to think that the subtle and masterly practice of cultural politics in the Histories had a great deal to do with the historian’s enviable political status in his later years. Polybius admired Odysseus (cf. 12.27.10–11), and in his collective representations in the Histories he sailed a careful course between Greece and Rome, arriving ultimately in his public life, much like his Homeric hero, in a safe harbor.

appendix a

Metabole Politeion Polybian Ochlocracy and Polybian Barbarology

The aim here is not to provide a comprehensive word study of Polybius’s descriptive terms for ochlocracy and barbarians, but rather merely to demonstrate the lexical convergence of his descriptions of political degeneration (and particularly of radical democracy, in book 6) and barbarian peoples. This selective word study supports my argument that there is a close semantic parallelism between ochlocracy and barbarians in the Histories and that Polybius employed the politico-cultural language of the Hellenic-barbarian bipolarity in order to condemn extreme democracy in the sharpest language available to him.1 The following words are the objects of this analysis, and they are always condemnatory in Polybius: ddikAa, dlazoneAa, Ebri%, pleonejAa, dlogAa, paranomAa, dpouhrAomai, uhriadh%, and their cognates. In book 6, Polybius regularly uses the word ddikAa (injustice) to describe the corrupted simple constitutional forms. In his discussion of Crete, Polybius states that men who practice unjust acts, prajei% ddAkoy%, reflect a poor political structure (47.4). The word ddikAa or one of its cognates describes tyranny once (9.2; cf. 2.59.6) and oligarchy twice (4.10; 8.5). And Polybius employs the word in the extended discussion of the horrors of the most degenerate of all political forms, ochlocracy, in chapter 57. There the historian states that a change for the worse will set in whenever the populace believes that it has been wronged (57.7: ddikePsuai) by those politicians who are grasping; and as we have seen in chapter 3 above, the irrational and greedy masses ultimately are the key factor in the onset of the worst sort of degeneration in the politeia. „dikAa therefore is a characteristic of degenerate Polybian states.2 And it regularly occurs in Polybius’s account of the barbaroi. For example, we find it in discussions of the Gauls (e.g., 3.52.5), the Illyrians (e.g., 2.8.5, 8, 10, 11), the Carthaginians in 1. This study serves as a supplement to the concise discussions at Eckstein 1995b: 119–25 (barbarians) and 129–40 (the masses). 2. Cf. 15.21.3: ddikAai of the ochlos at Cius; 32.5.10: ddikAa of the demagogue Charops and the ochlos at Epirus.

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Spain,3 and the barbarian tribes of the Celtiberians (14.8.10) and of the Aravacae (35.2.9); and repeatedly in descriptions of the Aetolians, semibarbarians at best in Polybius’s eyes, in the account of Greek affairs in books 2 and 4.4 In regard to a Polybian politics of cultural alienation from Rome, we have seen that injustice describes the Roman seizure of Sardinia in the aftermath of the First Romano-Carthaginian War, a time when, on Polybius’s reckoning, the Roman politeia was still in its optimal state (3.28.1–2: parb panta tb dAkaia; cf. 3.15.10, 30.4). „lazoneAa in Polybius is vainglorious behavior or imposture. Polybius uses it once in the political analysis of book 6 to describe the deterioration of states, for which the multitude is responsible (57.6). And in the historical narrative proper he uses the word once to describe the corrupt and dandified Achaean politicians who served as a foil for the abstemious and virtuous Philopoemen (11.8.4), twice to describe the grasping behavior of the semibarbarous Aetolians (4.3.1; 18.34.2), and once to describe the causes of the low birthrate and depopulation in Greece of his own day; population decline itself being a manifestation of the degeneration of Guh kaB namoi, which for Polybius are the backbone of the politeia.5 ˜Ybri% in Polybius refers to wanton violence, riotousness, or insolence. There are five occurrences in the political analysis in book 6. Polybius praises the “mixed constitution” for its ability to check Ebri% (18.5). In his analysis of the Roman military system, he states that, if a Roman soldier loses his weapon on the battlefield, he prefers certain death to tbn tpn oDkeAvn Ebrin (37.13). The three remaining occurrences in book 6 describe the corrupted simple constitutional forms. ˜Ybri% describes the insolence of tyrants (8.1), the excesses of oligarchy (8.5), and it is a characteristic of ochlocracy (4.10).6 As for the barbaroi, Ebri% describes the insolence of the barbarous, subhuman Carthaginian mercenaries (1.70.5, 81.10); the Gauls (3.3.5; 21.41.2); Carthaginian behavior against the Romans should Hannibal conquer them (3.109.9; cf. 10.6.3, 37.8–9, 38.1); the barbarian Persians in the fifth century (9.34.2); Aetolian outrages at Dium and Dodona (9.35.6); the treacherous behavior of the Dalmatian tribesmen in 157/156 (32.13.9); and the leaders of the barbarian Oxybii (33.10.3). As we have seen in considering Polybius’s politics of cultural alienation from Rome in chapter 6, Ebri% describes the Romans as barbaroi in a reported speech (11.5.6, 8). PleonejAa in Polybius is greed or covetousness.7 Nine of its twenty-eight occurrences (as a substantive) are in book 6. The Romans condemn it (56.2: as the infinitive pleonektePn; 56.4; cf. 10.16.8–9); Lycurgus eliminated it from domestic affairs at 3. 10.37.8–10 (Andobales to Scipio); cf. 15.17.6–7. The Carthaginians, like the Romans, were civilized in Greek conceptions insofar as they lived in an organized city and possessed a formal constitution, so that Aristotle could write on the Carthaginian politeia and Polybius discusses it in book 6; but they also qualified as barbarians, like the Romans, whenever it suited Greek rhetorical-political purposes; see Barceló 1994; cf. p. 36 and n. 20. 4. 2.43.10, 45.1, 45.6, 46.3; 4.3.12, 4.8, 5.8, 6.2, 6.10, 7.2 (bis), 15.11, 16.3, 18.7, 26.2, 26.4, 27.2, 29.4; cf. 9.35.8, 39.7 (Lyciscus). 5. 36.17.7; dlazoneAa describes erroneus rival historians at 5.33.8 and 16.20.4 (Zeno). 6. ˜Ybri% describes the Achaean demagogue Diaeus and the Achaean ochlos at 38.17.2. 7. Cf. now the wide-ranging study of Balot 2001 on greed in classical Athenian political discourse.

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Sparta, although he left the Spartans grasping in their foreign relations (46.7, 48.8, 49.1); there are two uses to describe the deplorable condition of Crete (46.3, 46.9; and in adjectival form, bAoy% pleonektikoA%, at 47.4); and it is a by-product of any bad constitution (47.4). PleonejAa describes oligarchy once (8.5), and ochlocracy once, when the ochlos, puffed up by flatterers, holds grievances against anyone it perceives to be grasping after public funds (57.7). And at 15.21.2 the radical demagogue Molpagoras of Cius is described as dhmagvgikb% kaB pleonAkth%. As for the barbaroi, the word describes the brutalized and savage Carthaginian mercenaries (1.81.11); the Gauls (2.19.3); characteristically Phoenician behavior (9.11.2); and the detested Aetolians (2.43.9, 45.1, 46.3, 49.3; 4.3.1, 3.5, 6.12; 9.38.6; 18.34.1). „logAa in Polybius is lack of reasoning power, senselessness, or utter folly. It occurs three times in book 6; each time it describes radical democracy or ochlocracy (44.8: Athens; 56.11, 56.13; cf. 10.25.6). It is characteristic of Polybius’s barbarians and his representations of the semibarbarous Aetolians: for example, Illyrians (2.8.12: Teuta; 3.19.9: Demetrius of Pharos); Gauls (2.19.4, 21.2, 30.4); Aetolians (3.7.3; 4.15.10, 34.7, 62.5; 5.107.7). Notable passages on the contrast between Romano-Hellenic logismos and barbarian akrisia and alogia are 2.35,8 where Roman order and discipline overcome the irrational frenzy of the Gauls and are compared with Greek victories over barbarians; 11.31.1–33.6, where Scipio outmaneuvers the barbarous, brave, but disorganized Ilergetes; and 33.10, where Opimius’s highly organized and disciplined army defeats the wild and uncoordinated Ligurian Oxybii and Decietae, who had begun this war with outrages against Roman envoys and violation of the ius gentium. This contrast between Romano-Hellenic rationality and barbarian illogicality was clearly attractive to Polybius.9 ParanomAa in Polybius is general lawlessness and the transgression of any particular, established laws. It occurs twice in the political analysis of book 6, where it describes ochlocracy (4.10, 56.11). It describes barbarian behavior of the Gauls (3.3.5–6; 18.37.9, along with Thracians; 21.41.3); the Illyrians (2.8.12–13: Teuta; 2.11.6: Demetrius of Pharos); the Mamertines (1.7.3–4); the Carthaginian mercenaries (1.70.5, 84.11, 88.8); the fifth-century Persian invaders of Greece (3.6.13); and the Aetolians (4.5.2; 5.11.2; 9.35.6; 30.11.2, 6). The Gauls in particular come in for Polybius’s censure in this regard; they know nothing of sworn treaties and oaths; and they are given over to irrational, mindless violence (3.3.5; 5.111.2; 18.37.9; 21.41.2–3). In their relations with the Romans, the Gauls treacherously murdered M’. Curius Dentatus’s legates in 284 (2.19.9–10); they imprisoned a Roman party under truce in 218 (3.40.10); Gallic allies in the Roman camp slaughtered and decapitated Roman soldiers before defecting to Hannibal (3.67.9–68.1); and the Galatians had planned to capture Cn. Manlius Vulso at a peace conference that they themselves had requested (21.39).10 [Thrasycrates] speaks of the paranomAa of the Romans as bar-

8. See Champion 1996: 324–28. 9. See Eckstein 1995b: 121–22; cf. frag. 6 B-W, where it is a complete lack of reasoning (dlogistAan) to be unacquainted with the ways of the barbaroi; Romans and Greeks are obligated to study the barbarians in order to know how to eliminate the threat they pose, echoing the thrust of 2.35. 10. On Gallic paranomAa and duesAa, see further Eckstein 1995b: 122.

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barians in a Polybian exercise of the politics of cultural alienation from Rome (11.5.8); otherwise the word is not used of the Romans in the Histories. It describes Achaean action only in the context of the Achaean War against Rome (38.13.7–9, 18.4–8), when the mindless behavior of the Achaeans, according to Polybius, rivaled that of barbarians. Finally, dpouhrioPmai and uhriadh% in Polybius denote subhuman, bestial behavior; dpouhrioPmai is to become as a wild beast (cf. Mauersberger col. 182 s.v.: zum Tier werden). There are two instances in book 6; both describe ochlocracy (9.9, 10.5). These words also describe the total neglect of civilizing institutions, Guh kaB namoi, in Cynaetha, which finally became so savage that crimes were a constant there (4.21.6). Concerning barbaroi, Polybius uses these words repeatedly to describe the barbarian Carthaginian mercenaries in the “Truceless War” (1.67.6, 70.1, 79.8, 81.5, 81.9); once to describe Hannibal’s multiethnic troops after the brutalizing experience of the passage of the Alps (3.60.7); and three times to describe the Aetolians (4.3.1; 20.10.15; 30.11.5).

appendix b

BARBAROS in Polybius’s Histories

The following is a list of all occurrences (with B-W’s supplements) of barbaros and its cognates in the Histories. Each entry includes the citation, the Greek excerpt in which the word appears, and a brief summary of the context of the passage. 1.9.3–4: Djagei strateAan c% DpB toB% barbaroy% toB% tbn Messanhn katasxanta%. King Hiero II of Syracuse marches out against the Mamertines in Messana. 1.9.4–5: toB% dB jAnoy% probalameno% eGase panta% Cpb tpn barbarvn diafuarpnai. By a ruse, Hiero allows his foreign mercenaries to be destroyed by the Mamertines. 1.9.7: uevrpn dB toB% barbaroy% Dk toP proteramato% urasAv% kaB propetp% dnastrefomAnoy%. Hiero observes the Mamertines acting in a bold and reckless way. 1.9.8: tbn mBn tpn barbarvn katApayse talman. Hiero puts an end to Mamertine audacity. 1.11.7: ^IArvn nomAsa% eDfyp% Gxein tb paranta prb% tb toB% barbaroy% toB% tbn Messanhn katAxonta% closxerp% DkbalePn Dk tp% SikelAa%. Hiero prepares to make an alliance with the Carthaginians in order to drive the Mamertines [and Romans?] from Sicily. 1.65.7: kaB katb pason guh sAmmikta kaB barbara tpn Dn paideAai% kaB namoi% kaB politikoP% Guesin DkteurammAnvn. Carthaginian mercenaries in the “Truceless War” demonstrate the great differences between chaotic, barbarian practices and those of people reared in civilized society. 2.7.12: perB mBn oRn tp% \Hpeirvtpn dgnoAa% kaB perB toP mhdApote dePn toB% eR fronoPnta% DsxyrotAran eDsagesuai fylakbn gllv% te kaB barbarvn. Epirotes demonstrate the folly of entrusting a city to a barbarian garrison. 245

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2.15.8–9: prosagoreyamenoi, toB% d' DpB tb pedAa TayrAskoi kaB 6gvne% kaB pleAv gAnh barbarvn Etera. Description of regions inhabited by Alpine tribesmen. 2.35.6 (bis): tb% aDfnidAoy% kaB paralagoy% tpn barbarvn Dfadoy%. Reflection on short-lived and irrational barbarian attacks; on this passage, see Champion 1996: 324–28. B-W prints (tb tpn barbarvn plpuo% toP% sBn nu kindyneAoysi) to fill the lacuna in this section. 2.39.7: Gti dB tp% tpn perioikoAntvn barbarvn DpikrateAa% DmpodisuAnte% oDx CkoysAv% dllb kat' dnagkhn aDtpn [sc. Achaean political institutions] dpAsthsan. Greeks are forced by Dionysius’s tyranny and surrounding barbarian tribes to abandon Achaean political and social practices. 3.3.5: [oC ^RvmaPoi] dpAlysan dB toB% DpB tade toP TaAroy katoikoPnta% barbarikpn fabvn kaB tp% Galatpn paranomAa%. Romans free inhabitants this side of the Taurus Mountains from fear of barbarians. 3.6.10–11: rn dB prath mBn c tpn metb Jenofpnto% ^Ellanvn Dk tpn gnv satrapeipn Dpanodo%, Dn 1 ppsan tbn „sAan diaporeyomAnvn aDtpn polemAan Cparxoysan oDdeB% Dtalma mAnein katb prasvpon tpn barbarvn. Xenophon’s Greeks are the first to stand up to barbarians in Asia. 3.14.6: tpn gbr barbarvn DpibalomAnvn katb pleAoy% tapoy% biazesuai kaB peraioPsuai tbn potaman. Battle at the Tagus in the Spanish campaigns of 221/220; Hannibal’s barbarian opposition in Spain. 3.14.8: tAlo% dB toGmpalin Dpidiabante% oC perB tbn „nnAban DpB toB% barbaroy% DtrAcanto pleAoy% h dAka myriada% dnurapvn. Battle at the Tagus; Hannibal crosses the river and puts some one hundred thousand barbarians to flight. 3.37.11: katoikePtai dB ppn Cpb Barbarvn Dunpn kaB polyanurapvn. That part of Europe lying along the Outer or Great Sea is densely populated by barbarians. 3.42.4: katb dB tbn kairbn toPton Dn tu pAran plpuo% curoAsuh barbarvn xarin toP kvlAein tbn tpn KarxhdonAvn diabasin. Barbarians attempt to block Hannibal’s crossing of the river. The following six entries concern barbarians on the outer banks of the Rhone who opposed Hannibal’s crossing in September 218. 3.43.1–2: oC mBn prodiabante% Dk toP pAran Cpb tbn Cvuinbn propgon par' aDtbn tbn potambn DpB toB% dntApera barbaroy%. A contingent of Hannibal’s forces advances against barbarians. 3.43.5: oC dB barbaroi uevroPnte% tbn Dpibolbn tpn CpenantAvn dtaktv% Dk toP xarako% DjexAonto kaB sporadhn. Barbarians pour out of their encampment in disorder. 3.43.8: tpn dB katb prasvpon barbarvn paianizantvn kaB prokaloymAnvn tbn kAndynon. Barbarians utter a war cry and a challenge to the Carthaginians.

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3.43.9: Dn Q kairu tpn barbarvn dpoleloipatvn tb% skhnb% Dpipesante% gfnv kaB paradajv% oC pAran Karxhdanioi. The Carthaginians fall upon a deserted barbarian encampment. 3.43.10: oC dB barbaroi, paralagoy toP pragmato% fanAnto% aDtoP%, oC mBn DpB tb% skhnb% DfAronto bohuasonte%. oC d' dmAnonto kaB diemaxonto prb% toB% DpitiuemAnoy%. Barbarians respond to the Carthaginian assault on their encampment. 3.43.11–12: „nnAba% dA, katb tbn prauesin aDtu syntrexantvn tpn pragmatvn, eDuAv% toB% pratoy% dpobaAnonta% synAsta kaB parekalei kaB syneplAketo toP% barbaroi%. Hannibal leads his troops out against the barbarians according to preconceived plan. 3.49.2–3: pepeismAno% oDdApot' hn aDtoB% tolmpsai tude poiasasuai tbn eD% ›ItalAan poreAan dib tb plpuo% kaB tbn duesAan tpn katoikoAntvn toB% tapoy% barbarvn. The Roman consul is amazed that Hannibal took a route into Italy through lands of unruly barbarians. 3.50.2: dpeAxonto pante% aDtpn oC katb mAro% cgemane% tpn „llobrAgvn, tb mBn toB% CppeP% dediate%, tb dB toB% parapAmponta% barbaroy%. The Allobrogian leaders are afraid to attack Hannibal because of his cavalry and the barbarians escorting him. 3.50.5: gnoB% gbr c strathgb% tpn KarxhdonAvn eti prokatAxoysin oC barbaroi toB% eDkaAroy% tapoy%. The Allobrogians opposed to Hannibal are now designated as barbarians. 3.50.8: dpokexvrhkatvn tpn barbarvn katb tbn synaueian eD% tbn palin. The Allobrogians opposed to Hannibal retire to the town at night according to customary practice. 3.51.1: oC barbaroi synueasamenoi tb gegonb% tb% mBn drxb% dpAsthsan tp% Dpibolp%. The Allobrogians are lured out by the prospects of booty; cf. 3.50.11. 3.51.3: katb pleAv mArh prospesantvn tpn barbarvn. Hannibal’s losses are due to barbarian attacks (Allobrogians) [and the difficulty of the terrain]. 3.52.3: oC gbr perB tbn dAodon oDkoPnte% symfronasante% DpB dali synantvn aDti, ualloB% Gxonte% kaB stefanoy% toPto gbr sxedbn ppsi toP% barbaroi% DstB sAnuhma filAa%, kauaper tb khrAkeion toP% ˜Ellhsin. Barbarian ruse against Hannibal (olive branches that are used as tokens of friendship among barbarians). 3.52.7: tpn dB barbarvn tb emhra paradantvn kaB urAmmasi xorhgoPntvn dfuanv% kaB kaualoy didantvn sfp% aDtoB% eD% tb% xePra% dparathratv%, DpB posbn DpAsteysan oC perB tbn „nnAban. Barbarians entrust hostages to Hannibal (but they attack him two days later at a difficult gorge; see next entry). 3.53.2–3: oQtoi gbr Gstejan tbn Dpiforbn tpn barbarvn. Hannibal’s infantry withstands the barbarian attack in his descent from the Alps.

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3.53.4: tpn gbr tapvn CperdejAvn gntvn toP% polemAoi%, dntiparagonte% oC barbaroi taP% parvreAai% kaB toP% mBn tb% pAtra% DpikylAonte% toB% d' Dk xeirb% toP% lAuoi% tAptonte% eD% closxerp diatropbn kaB kAndynon rgon. From a higher position, barbarians hurl stones and roll rocks down on Hannibal (see next entry). 3.53.6: tu d' DpaArion tpn polemAvn xvrisuAntvn, synaca% toP% CppePsi kaB toP% CpozygAoi% propge prb% tb% Cperbolb% tb% dnvtatv tpn 6lpevn, closxereP mBn oDdenB peripAptvn Gti systamati tpn barbarvn, katb mArh dB kaB katb tapoy% parenoxloAmeno% Cp' aDtpn. The following day, Hannibal extricates himself from the difficult situation; he encounters no other barbarians. 3.58.8: dysxerB% mBn gbr DpB plAon tinpn aDtapthn genAsuai dib tb toB% mBn Dkbebarbarpsuai toB% d' Dramoy% eRnai tapoy%. There is better knowledge of outlying lands in Polybius’s day; earlier these places were utterly barbarous. 3.60.10: katasfaja% dB toB% DnantivuAnta% aDtu toioPton Dneirgasato fabon toP% sAneggy% katoikoPsin tpn barbarvn este panta% Dk xeirb% paragAnesuai, didanta% aCtoB% eD% tbn pAstin. Hannibal defeats the Taurini and strikes terror into neighboring barbarian tribes. 3.98.3–4: synelogAsato par' Caytu perB tp% tpn cmarvn prodosAa% syllogismbn \Ibhrikbn kaB barbarikan. Abilyx, like the Spaniard and barbarian that he was, betrays hostages at Saguntum to the Romans. 3.115.2–3: maxhn dlhuinbn kaB barbarikan. Description of the battle at Cannae. 4.29.1–2: FAlippo% dB paraxeimazvn Dn MakedonAi katAgrafe tb% dynamei% prb% tbn mAlloysan xreAan Dpimelp%, ema dB toAtoi% dsfalAzeto tb prb% toB% CperkeimAnoy% tp% MakedonAa% barbaroy%. Philip winters in Macedonia and secures frontiers against neighboring barbarian tribes (218). 4.38.7: dia te gbr tbn stenathta toP paroy kaB tb parakeAmenon plpuo% tpn barbarvn gploy% hn cmPn rn cmologoymAnv% c Panto%. On the barbarian tribesmen who menace Byzantium. 4.38.10–11: dib kaB koinoA tine% c% eDergAtai pantvn Cparxonte% eDkatv% hn oD manon xarito%, dllb kaB DpikoyrAa% koinp% tygxanoien Cpb tpn ^Ellanvn katb tb% Cpb tpn barbarvn peristasei%. Byzantines, as common benefactors, should receive Hellenic support against barbarian marauding expeditions. 4.45.5–6: tA gbr DpisfalAsteron dstygeAtono% kaB barbaroy polAmoy; tA deinateron; Rhetorical questions in a discussion of barbarians who threaten Byzantium. 4.45.7–8: kgpeita paragenhuAnte% oC barbaroi toB% mBn katafueArvsi, toB% dB synauroAsante% dpofArvsi. More on barbarians menacing Byzantium: Thracians destroy the Byzantine harvest.

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5.33.5–6: pasa% fasB tb% katb tbn ^Ellada kaB barbaron perieilhfAnai prajei%. On the Greek writers of the Hannibalic War who claim to give accounts of Greek and barbarian lands. 5.44.7: katb dA tina% tapoy% aDlpsin, oF% katoikoPsi KossaPoi kaB Korbrpnai kaB Karxoi kaB pleAv gAnh barbarvn Etera. The Cossaei, Corbrenae, Carchi, and other warlike barbarian tribes inhabiting the valleys of Mount Zagrus. 5.55.1: c dB basileB% . . . boylameno% dnataupnai kaB kataplajasuai toB% CperkeimAnoy% taP% CaytoP satrapeAai% kaB synoroPnta% dynasta% tpn barbarvn. Elated by success in suppressing Molon and revolts in upper satrapies, Antiochus plans to overawe barbarians. 5.55.4: nomAsa% kaB pauePn gn ti tbn „ntAoxon Dn toP% gnv tapoi% Cpb tpn barbarvn. Hermeias’s hopes for Antiochus’s demise at the hands of barbarians of the interior. 5.104.1–2: dAnainto tb% tpn barbarvn Dfadoy% dpotribamenoi syssi¬ zein sfp% aDtoB% kaB tb% palei%. Prooemium to Agelaus’s famous speech at Naupactus (217); Romans as barbaroi. 5.111.7: praja% dB taPta megaloy mBn dpAlyse faboy kaB kindAnoy tb% Df' \Ellhspantoy palei%, kalbn dB paradeigma toP% DpiginomAnoi% dpAlipe toP mb CidAan poiePsuai toB% Dk tp% EDraph% barbaroy% tbn eD% tbn „sAan diabasin. Prusias frees Hellespontine cities from barbarian threats. 7.11.5–6: dll' oDdB tpn perioikoAntvn Dtalmhse barbarvn oDdeB% ecasuai tp% MakedonAa%. Neighboring barbarian tribes do not venture to attack Macedonia under Philip V. 8.9.6: “eD gar ti% rn Dn toP% ˜Ellhsin h toP% barbaroi%” fhsA “lastayro% h urasB% tbn trapon, oQtoi pante% eD% MakedonAan curoizamenoi prb% FAlippon CtaProi toP basilAv% proshgoreAonto ktl.” Theopompus says that Philip II’s court was a gathering place for the most debauched Greeks and barbarians. 8.19.9: syntaja% CnB tpn fAlvn aDtbn aDBn dpokrAnasuai prb% tb legamenon Cpb tpn perB tbn „rianbn kaB pynuanesuai par' DkeAnvn deB tb katepePgon, perB dB tpn gllvn fanai barbaroy% aDtoB% Cparxein. Achaeus, in a ruse, pretends that his companions are barbarians who do not know Greek. 9.24.4–5: megAsth% profainomAnh% dysxrhstAa% perB tb% trofb% kaB tbn Ctoimathta tpn DpithdeAvn toP% stratopAdoi%, ete kaB katb tb mpko% dnanyton Gxein ti dokoAsh% tp% cdoP kaB katb tb plpuo% kaB tbn dgriathta tpn metajB katoikoAntvn barbarvn. On barbarian lands through which Hannibal had to pass on the march from Spain to Italy. 9.30.3–4: manoi dB prb% tbn brAnnoy kaB tpn ema toAti barbarvn Gfodon dntAsthsan, manoi dB kaloAmenoi synhgvnAzonto, boylamenoi tbn patrion cgemonAan tpn ^Ellanvn CmPn sygkataskeyazein. Chlaeneas extols Aetolian exploits against Brennus’s barbarians (279).

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9.34.2–3: oDk Dpoiasv mnamhn, oDdB diati megalvn kakpn koinu panta% cmp% Glyse, katadoylvsameno% toB% barbaroy% kaB parelameno% aDtpn tb% xorhgAa%, aQ% DkePnoi xramenoi katAfueiran toB% ˜Ellhna%. This and the following five entries are from Lyciscus’s oration, on which see Champion 1996: 321–24. Lyciscus states that Alexander enslaved barbarians and delivered the Greeks from danger. 9.35.1: kaB prb% oDdBn toAtvn dpologhupnai dynamenoi semnAnesue, diati tbn DpB DelfoB% Gfodon tpn barbarvn CpAsthte, kaB fatB dePn dib taPta xarin Gxein CmPn toB% ˜Ellhna%. Lyciscus challenges the Aetolian claims to heroics in the defense of Delphi (279). 9.35.2–3: tAno% kaB phlAkh% deP timp% djioPsuai Makedana%, oF tbn pleAv toP bAoy xranon oD paAontai diagvnizamenoi prb% toB% barbaroy% CpBr tp% tpn ^Ellanvn dsfaleAa%; Rhetorical question in which Lyciscus stresses Macedonian benefactions to Greece in fighting off barbarians. 9.37.5–6: h prb% poAan parakalePte toAtoy% symmaxAan; rr' oD prb% tbn tpn barbarvn; Lyciscus chastises the Aetolians for the Laevinus treaty with Rome; Romans as barbaroi. 9.38.5: gjian ge toioAtvn dndrpn dpoganoy% Cparxonta%, kgpeita nPn symmaxAan poihsamAnoy% toP% barbaroi%. Lyciscus chides the Spartans for contemplating an alliance with barbarians (Romans). 9.39.4–5: kalan ge taAth% tp% symmaxAa% metasxePn katb proaAresin, gllv% te kaB LakedaimonAoy% Cparxonta%, oE ge QhbaAoy% toB% kat' dnagkhn csyxAan ggein boyleysamAnoy% manoy% tpn ^Ellanvn katb tbn tpn Perspn Gfodon DchfAsanto dekateAsein toP% ueoP% kratasante% tu polAmi tpn barbarvn. Lyciscus attempts to shame the Spartans by reference to their heroics against the barbarians in the Persian Wars. 10.1.2–3: Gxei dB tpn te barbarvn Dunpn tb polyanurvpatata kaB tpn ^EllhnAdvn palevn tb% Dpifanestata%. Southeastern Italy is populated with barbarian tribes and Greek cities. 10.27.3–4: perioikePtai dB palesin ^EllhnAsi katb tbn Cfaghsin tbn „lejandroy, fylakp% Eneken tpn sygkyroAntvn aDtu barbarvn plbn \Ekbatanvn. On the ring of Greek cities on the borders of Media founded by Alexander against barbarians. 10.29.3–4: kaB tb plpuo% tpn barbarvn tpn katb tapoy% Dfestatvn taP% dysxvrAai% aDtoP. This and the following six entries concern Antiochus III in Parthia. The barbarians posted along his march into Hyrcania. 10.30.2–3: eD% fn pollaB mBn aDtomatv% Dk tpn CperkeimAnvn krhmnpn pAtrai katenhnegmAnai kaB dAndra dAsbaton DpoAoyn tbn di' aDtp% poreAan, pollb d' Cpb tpn barbarvn eD% toPto tb mAro% synhrgePto. Barbarians occupy the high ground along a defile. 10.30.7: kaB xramenoi pyknoP% toP% dkontAsmasi kaB toP% Dk xeirb% lAuoi% kakp% dietAuesan toB% barbaroy%. Antiochus outflanks barbarians and dislodges them.

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10.30.9: oDk Gmenon oC barbaroi, pante% dB lipante% toB% tapoy% curoAsuhsan DpB tbn Cperbolan. Barbarians relinquish their former positions and collect on the summit of the pass. 10.31.2 (bis): tpn dB barbarvn synhuroismAnvn DkeP, kaB pepeismAnvn kvlAein tp% Cperbolp% toB% polemAoy%, dgbn synAsth neaniska%. Djeasuhsan d' oC barbaroi dib toiaAta% aDtAa%. Antiochus against the barbarian tribesmen on Mount Labus. 10.31.3–4: ema tu synidePn oC barbaroi tb gegonb% eDuAv% ptohuAnte% ermhsan prb% fygan. Outwitted by Antiochus’s officer Diogenes, barbarians on Mount Labus take flight. 10.31.11–13 (bis): oQ symbanto% diatrapAnte% oC barbaroi toP% eloi%, kaB toB% mBn ˜Ellhna% katasfajante% toB% Dn tu palei, tb d' DpifanAstata tpn skeypn diarpasante%, nyktb% dpexarhsan. . . . oQ symmAjanto% oC barbaroi CAcante% tb% dposkeyb% aRui% eD% tbn palin Gfygon. Atrocities of barbarians; Antiochus’s siege of barbarians at Tambrax. 10.37.5: gn d' dntipApti (tb) katb tbn maxhn, poiePsuai tbn dpoxarhsin metb tpn diasizomAnvn Dj aDtp% eD% GalatAan, kdkePuen paralabanta tpn barbarvn c% pleAstoy% bohuePn eD% tbn \ItalAan kaB koinvnePn „nnAbi tddelfu tpn aDtpn DlpAdvn. Hasdrubal plans to collect barbarian forces in Gaul and unite with Hannibal in Italy (prior to the battle at Baecula). 10.48.8: toB% dB barbaroy% dib tbn DmpeirAan katb tbn dialeAponta tapon poiePsuai tbn dAodon DpB tpn Eppvn eD% tbn ^YrkanAan. Local barbarians know the best place to ford the river Oxus (Amu-darya) on horseback. 11.5.6–7 (bis): kaB kyrieAsante% mBn aDtoB palev% oGt' hn CbrAzein CpomeAnaite toB% DleyuAroy% oGt' Dmpipranai tb% palei%, nomAzonte% dmbn eRnai tb toioPto kaB barbarikan¢ synuaka% dB pepoAhsue toiaAta%, di' qn epanta% toB% glloy% ˜Ellhna% Dkdatoy% dedakate toP% barbaroi% eD% tb% aDsxAsta% Ebrei% kaB paranomAa%. [Thrasycrates’] speech before the Aetolian Confederation (207); Romans as barbaroi. 11.32.5–6: genomAnoy dB toAtoy, parojynuAnte% oC barbaroi, kaB diagvniasante% mb dib tb prohttpsuai dajvsi katapeplpxuai toP% eloi%, Djpgon ema tu fvtB kaB parAtatton eD% maxhn epasan tbn dAnamin. Scipio puts down the barbarian mutiny led by Andobales and Mandonius in Spain (206). 11.34.5–6: plauh gbr oDk dlAga parePnai tpn Nomadvn, di' qn kindyneAein mBn dmfotAroy%, Dkbarbarvuasesuai dB tbn xaran cmologoymAnv%, Dbn DkeAnoy% prosdAxvntai. Euthydemus urges Antiochus III’s officer Teleas to unite against barbarian nomads (206/205); see now Holt 1999: 126–33. 12.4b.2: oEtv mBn gbr deasei panta% toB% barbaroy% lAgein Travn dpoganoy% Cparxein. On the errors of Timaeus; the sacrifice of a

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appendix b horse is a common barbarian phenomenon; Romans as barbaroi. See Meister 1975: 8 and n. 39; Champion 2000a.

15.13.4–5: pAra% DnAklinan oC barbaroi, kaB dajante% DgkataleApesuai profanp% Cpb tpn DdAvn, Dpipesante% katb tbn dpoxarhsin eD% toB% Dfestpta% Gkteinon toAtoy%. Carthaginians are butchered by their own barbarian mercenaries at Zama. 18.22.8: katb dB tbn aDtbn kairbn Etero% Df' CtAri tpn Dk tp% DfedreAa% Makedanvn Guei prb% tbn FAlippon, dnabopn “basileP, feAgoysin oC polAmioi¢ mb paru% tbn kairan¢ oD mAnoysin cmp% oC barbaroi¢ sb nPn Dstin cmAra, sb% c kaira%.” Romans as barbaroi: Philip V’s messenger calls the Romans barbaroi in an exhortation during the battle at Cynoscephalae (197). See Champion 2000b: 435. 21.41.2–3: c% DpB tu tbn dpb tpn barbarvn aDtoP% fabon dfirpsuai kaB dokePn dphllaxuai tp% toAtvn Ebrev% kaB paranomAa%. Freed from fear of the barbarians, embassies arrive to congratulate Manlius on victories over the Gauls (189/188). 23.8.3–4: thrpn dB tbn prokeimAnhn Cpauesin, Djpge stratibn DpB toB% barbaroy%. Philip V’s Thracian campaign of 183; cf. Liv. 39.53.12–16. 23.10.5: plhrpsai (dB) kaB Qrikpn kaB barbarvn tb% palei%, c% bebaiotAra% aDtu tp% Dk toAtvn pAstev% CparxoAsh% katb tb% peristasei%. Philip V fills cities in Emathia and Paionia with Thracians and barbarians; on the policy, see Walbank HC 3.230–31 ad 23.10.4. 23.13.2: CptakaAdeka gbr Gth meAna% Dn toP% CpaAuroi% plePsta t' Gunh kaB barbara diejelubn kaB pleAstoi% dndrasin dllofAloi% kaB Cteroglattoi% xrhsameno% synergoP% prb% dphlpismAna% kaB paradajoy% Dpibola%. Retrospective on Hannibal, who passed through so many barbarian lands. 31.9.2: paragenameno% d' DpB toB% tapoy% kaB diaceysueB% tp% DlpAdo% dib tb mb sygxvrePn tu paranomAi toB% barbaroy% (toB%) oDkoPnta% perB tbn tapon. Antiochus IV Epiphanes is prevented by barbarians from despoiling the temple to Artemis in Elymaïs. 33.8.3: Gdoje tu synedrAi presbeytb% pAmcai toB% ema mBn aDtapta% DsomAnoy% tpn ginomAnvn, ema dB peirasomAnoy% lagi dioruasasuai tpn barbarvn tbn ggnoian. The Romans send an embassy to remonstrate with barbarians (Ligurians) attacking Massilia (155/154). 33.10.6: c dB Kainto% Ddbn tbn Gfodon kaB tb uraso% tpn barbarvn tbn mBn dpanoian aDtpn kateplagh, uevrpn dB mhdenB lagi taAti xrvmAnoy% toB% DxuroB% eDuarsb% rn. Embassy of preceding entry. Opimius is amazed by the reckless courage of the Oxybii, but encouraged by their mindlessness. 34.10.13–14: synergasamAnvn dB toP% barbaroP% tpn \Italivtpn Dn dimani, paraxrpma tb xrysAon eDvnateron genAsuai tu trAti mArei kau' elhn tbn \ItalAan. On the gold mine discovered in the land

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of the Noric Taurisci, close by Aquileia; Italians work it with barbaroi. 35.2.6: oC dB kaAper gnte% barbaroi dietAuento lagoy% kaB pasa% DjeykrinePn Dpeirpnto tb% diafora%. On the Celtiberian or “Fiery” War (152/151); the Aravacae lay their case before the Senate; note the concessive clause (kaAper gnte% barbaroi). 35.5.1 (Suid. s.v. DnApese): DnApese dA ti% crmb tu SkipAvni kaB diaparhsi%, eD deP symbalePn kaB monomaxpsai prb% tbn barbaron. Incident at Intercatia in Spain, where Scipio Aemilianus slays the Iberian chieftain in single combat. Walbank HC 3.648 ad 35.5.1–2 assembles references. 36.15.5–6: paideAa% dB kaB filosofAa% kaB tpn Dn toAtoi% uevrhmatvn gpeiro% eD% tAlo% rn kaB syllabdhn toP kaloP tA pot' Gstin oDd' Gnnoian eRxe, Sardanapalloy dB barbaron bAon Gzh kaB meu' cmAran kaB nAktvr. Prusias II of Bithynia lives the barbarous, hedonistic life of Sardanapallus. 38.2.4: kArioi gbr genhuAnte% oC barbaroi pikrp% diAfueiran tb% „uana%. Xerxes’ barbarian Persians ruthlessly sack Athens; in the context of a discussion of the disasters in Greece in 147/146. 38.18.7–8: toiaAth% dB tp% dnoAa% kaB tp% dkrisAa% symbainoAsh% perB panta% oEan oDd' hn Dn barbaroi% eEroi ti% CidAv%, dplon c% eDkatv% gn ti% Dpijhtaseie pp% oDk grdhn dpalonto pante%. In a discussion of the Achaean Diaeus’s brutal treatment of Philinus at Corinth; Achaean actions at this time compare unfavorably with barbarian practices. Cf. [Thrasycrates] at 11.5.6. 39.1.7–8 (39.1.1–12 = excerpt from De Virt. et Vit., supplemented by Suid.; tentatively placed here; see Walbank HC 3.726 ad 39.1.1–12): mhdemAa% (d') dnagkh% oGsh% Duelontbn dpogracasuai kgpeita paraitePsuai syggnamhn Gxein, Dbn barbarAzÊ. Polybius criticizes A. Postumius Albinus for writing in Greek and apologizing for his linguistic barbarisms. Frag. 6 B-W ( = Suid. s.v. katainAsanto%): dlAgoi dA tine% rsan oC katainAsante%, oC dB pleAone% dntApipton¢ qn oC mBn dlogistAan, oC dB manAan Gfasan eRnai tb paraballesuai kaB kybeAein tu bAi, tb parapan dnennahton gnta tp% maxh% kaB tp% barbarikp% xreAa%. On the folly of being unacquainted with battle and barbarian ways. Frag. 119 B-W: oC dB perB Paplion dpeAgonto speAdonte% synacai kaB synapoxrasasuai taP% tpn barbarvn crmaP%. A Roman force hastens to meet and exploit a barbarian onrush. Frag. 168 B-W: tpn dB Makedanvn Dk metabolp% synereisantvn toP% barbaroi%, eDuAv% DkklAnante% Gfeygon. Barbarians flee before a Macedonian attack.

appendix c

LOGISMOS in Polybius’s Histories

Throughout this work I have maintained that a Polybian image of Romans (especially in their earlier history) is that of quasi Hellenes who possess the quintessential Hellenic virtue of reasoning power, or logismos. A key passage here is 2.35, where Polybius links the Roman defeat of the barbarian Gallic tribesmen with famous Greek victories over barbarian peoples and explicitly says that the decisive advantage of the victors was cool reasoning power (2.35.8–9: c tpn sBn nu kaB metb logismoP kindyneyantvn aEresi%).1 The ability to reason, to judge, and to maintain self-possession in the most parlous of times is the hallmark of Polybius’s Hellenic virtue, and the historian explicitly states that Greeks excel over others in the ability to discern right action in any situation (5.90.8: peirpntai tb kat\ djAan Ckastoi% threPn, Q plePston diafAroysin ˜Ellhne% tpn gllvn dnurapvn). But as we have seen, these virtues are not innate and immutable for any particular people in the historian’s conception; institutional factors are the paramount causal determinant for the exercise of logismos in the Histories. Here Polybius’s depiction of the non-Greek, non-Roman Hannibal is instructive. While the Polybian characterization of Hannibal is inconsistent (cf. 3.15.6–9: the raging, impetuous youth at New Carthage), it is noteworthy that Hannibal frequently displays the requisite virtues,2 and that he was the product of an organized politeia, which was sufficiently evolved to be included in the political analysis in book 6. These qualities—the exercise of rationality, levelheaded discernment, the ability to discriminate and to take the longer view of a situation, and control of shortsighted emotion and passion—are constituent elements of the semantic field of the substantive logisma% in the Histories. The following is a word study of this key term and its substantive and verbal cognates, the purpose of which is to demonstrate the semantic range of Polybian logisma% and thereby to justify my use of the word in a shorthand way to describe Roman and/or Greek (and very rarely barbarian) exhibition of these virtues, even in passages where Polybius does not explicitly use the term logisma%. 1. See Champion 1996: 324–28. 2. Cf. Pédech 1964: 242–43, 376.

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Logisma% occurs forty-one times in the Histories; the verbal form logAzomai eighteen times;3 variants with the syn-prefix (the verb syllogAzomai and the substantive syllogisma%) occur fifty-two times.4 These words have the following senses in Polybius. logisma% Financial account or reckoning: 23.14.7 (Senate requests of Scipio Africanus an accounting of the monies received from Antiochus III). Set plan of action: 1.20.1 (Roman plans become more ambitious after success at Agrigentum); 2.64.5 (Cleomenes trusts Antigonus will adhere to original plan of inaction). Reasoned estimation or expectation: 3.16.5 (negation—Romans miscalculate Hannibal’s speed); 3.17.11 (Hannibal’s correct estimation of the consequences of the siege of Saguntum); 6.58.11 (negation—Romans defeat Hannibal’s expectations by refusing to ransom the Roman survivors from Cannae); 10.5.8 (those incapable of seeing true causes attribute to the supernatural what is achieved through calculation and foresight); 16.2.5 (negation—faulty calculations of Philip V at battle of Chios); 29.21.5 (gnomic reflection on Fortune, which often defeats human calculation or expectation); 38.10.9 (negation—Achaeans Diaeus and Critolaus misread the situation concerning Rome). Reasoned reflection and consideration: 1.16.5 (Hiero II reasons that Roman prospects are brighter than those of Carthaginians); 1.20.2 (Romans consider an attempt to drive Carthaginians out of Sicily after success at Agrigentum); 1.41.5 (Carthaginians determine to spare no efforts in retaining Drepana); 1.62.1 (Carthaginians transcend passion in correctly reasoning that they must submit to defeat in the First Romano-Carthaginian War); 2.4.8 (negation—Teuta’s womanish considerations); 2.35.3 (negation—Gauls act according to uyma%, not logisma%); 2.35.8 (Roman/Greek logisma% vs. barbarian uyma%); 3.63.11 (Hannibal exhorts his troops to trust in reason as the key to victory before the Trebia); 3.70.6 (P. Cornelius Scipio advises Ti. Sempronius Longus to exercise caution before the Trebia); 3.85.10 (Senate retains self-possession after the news of Trasimene); 3.89.4 (praise of Cunctator’s delaying tactics); 3.89.8 (Fabius’s consideration of Roman strengths); 3.91.1 (Hannibal’s plans grounded in reasoned reflection); 3.92.1 (Hannibal’s ratiocinations in march from Samnium into Campania); 3.105.9 (careful reflection and military forethought of Fabius Maximus); 4.10.10 (Dorimachus’s considerations in advancing to Methydrium against Aratus); 4.71.1 (Philip V calculates pros and cons of besieging Psophis); 6.58.8 (Romans rationally calculate every necessary step in order to recover from the disaster at Cannae); 8.8.1 (negation—Philip V uses uyma%, not logisma%); 10.2.13 (Scipio Africanus did everything with calculation and fore-

3. Mauersberger, cols. 1483–84; cf. Pédech 1964: 84, 216, 219, 221, 339, 347, 423, 509. 4. Cf. Pédech 1964: 46, 83, 86, 210.

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sight); 10.37.3 (Hasdrubal’s assessment of the situation in Spain); 16.10.3–4 (bis) (gnomic reflection on those who misuse opportunity in context of discussion of Philip V); 16.28.2 (negation—few are those who have compensated for deficiencies through the exercise of reason); 30.8.8 (negation—Deinon disgracefully clings to life without reason); 30.11.6 (negation—unruly Aetolians incapable of deliberation and set purpose); 32.15.8 (negation—Prusias’s soul stood outside of reason); frag. 223 B-W (a king acts according to logisma%). Reason: 6.6.4 (humans possess faculty of reason, unlike animals); 6.6.12 (monarch becomes a king when reason rises above ferocity and force); 6.7.3 (in true kingship, kings are selected on basis of judgment and reasoning powers, not on basis of brute strength). logAzomai To estimate or judge: 1.83.3 (Hiero II judges that maintaining a balance of power between Rome and Carthage is in his best interests); 2.60.2 (Antigonus and Aratus judge correctly in putting the Argive tyrant Aristomachus to death); 2.64.2 (Cleomenes acted wisely in invading Argolis, for those judging the matter rightly); 3.64.5 (Scipio urges his troops to judge their chances against Hannibal from their own experiences); 3.79.2 (Hannibal estimates that he would not need pack animals, should he conquer the open country); 3.80.5 (Hannibal judges that Flaminius would give him opportunities for attack); 4.71.6 (people of Psophis estimate the likelihood of a pro-Macedonian fifth column in their city); 8.3.3 (negation—Romans misjudge Archimedes in the siege of Syracuse); 10.4.3 (Scipio estimates his chances for electoral success); 11.23.8 (Scipio judges a military emergency correctly at Ilipa); 12.14.4 (words on the proprieties of the historian in an excoriation of Timaeus); 15.10.4 (Scipio says before Zama that the Roman troops’ fate is clear, should they lose, to anyone who estimates correctly); 15.25.10 (for anyone who judges rightly, Egyptian events were due to hatred of Agathocles); 18.50.9 (Roman envoy states that for anyone reasoning correctly Antiochus’s crossing to Europe was a provocative act against Rome); 29.15.1 (negation—Perseus’s miscalculation); 33.5.3 and 38.16.11 (negation— proverb: “Vain heads make vain plans”); 34.12.3 (estimating the Via Egnatia from Apollonia east to Macedonia). The following treats two related words with the prefix syn- (syl- by assimilation of consonants). I list the word, its definition according to LSJ 9 1673, col. I, and the passages in which it occurs in the Histories.5 syllogAzomai To reckon or compute; conclude from premises: 1.11.10 (Roman commander Ap. Claudius Caudex assesses situation at Messana); 1.26.10 (Roman naval strategy in First Romano-Carthaginian War); 1.44.1 (Carthaginian government reckons on

5. An asterisk denotes the rare uses of these words to describe barbarian behaviors.

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appendix c

requirements for relief force); 1.60.4, 7 (Roman commander C. Lutatius Catulus surmises the Carthaginian admiral Hanno’s intentions); 1.63.8 (Polybius computes naval strength of principals in the First Romano-Carthaginian War); 2.26.4* (Gallic leaders surmise whereabouts of L. Aemilius Papus); 2.32.8 (Romans reckon the likelihood of treachery among their Gallic allies); 2.45.5 (Aetolians fail to reckon the abilities of Aratus); 2.52.7 (Antigonus Doson surmises that Cleomenes would soon appear in Thessaly); 3.6.12 (Philip II reckons on cowardice and indolence of Persians); 3.7.5 (statesmen must understand origins of events); 3.42.5 (Hannibal plans the Rhone crossing); 3.51.6 (Hannibal strategizes against Allobroges); 3.52.6 (Hannibal cautiously accepts friendship of Gauls); 3.61.2 (Hannibal reflects on P. Scipio’s whereabouts); 3.67.8 (P. Scipio estimates Gallic treachery); 3.81.12 (Hannibal correctly estimates character of Flaminius); 3.93.3 (Hannibal prepares escape from Fabius’s trap); 3.95.4 (Cn. Scipio estimates Hasdrubal’s plans); 4.71.1 (Philip V plans his winter campaign of 219/218 in Peloponnesus); 5.1.8 (Philip V concludes that Apelles and Leontius had falsely accused Aratus); 5.52.9 (Molon opts for a night attack against Antiochus); 5.87.3 (Ptolemy fails to reckon all factors and concludes peace with Antiochus after Raphia); 6.6.5 (parents reflect on treatment they may expect from children); 6.10.2 (Lycurgus reflects upon weaknesses of simple constitutions); 6.41.9 (every soldier in Roman camp can reckon whereabouts from consul’s flag); 7.14.1 (reader may easily understand differences between Aratus and Demetrius); 9.4.6 (Hannibal plans during siege of Capua); 9.7.2 (Hannibal reckons that his plan to draw Romans away from Capua has failed); 9.8.8 (Epaminondas reckons Mantinea’s vulnerability); 9.30.8 (Chlaeneas the Aetolian estimates Philip’s strength); 10.7.1 (Scipio Africanus estimates his situation in light of history’s lessons); 10.7.4 (Scipio relies on inference from facts); 10.8.8 (Scipio’s designs on New Carthage); 10.21.8 (History reasons from firm foundations); 10.29.1 (Antiochus III surmises Arsaces’ intentions); 10.34.2* (Edeco of the Edetani reasons in his overture to Scipio Africanus); 11.16.5 (Philopoemen reckons on all factors against Machanidas); 11.16.6 (Philopoemen takes Machanidas’ ratiocinations into account); 11.17.4 (Machanidas realizes his strategic blunder); 12.4a.5 (defense of Ephorus’s ability to compute numbers); 12.6a.1 (one should be able to reckon that Aristotle is more trustworthy than Timaeus); 15.4.10 (Scipio considers the duties of the Romans); 18.34.8 (Aetolians wrongly reckon that Philip V had bribed Flamininus); 21.11.13 (Antiochus reckons that he must gain control of the sea to avert war in Asia); 29.7.8 (Eumenes calculates reasons for his role as mediator); 29.9.11 (one can easily estimate Perseus’s wisest policy toward Eumenes). syllogisma% Computation or calculation: 3.6.7 (reasoning from circumstances a constituent element of aitiai of historical events); 3.81.11 (gnomic reflection on the reasoning powers of the good general); 3.98.4* (treacherous, barbarous reasoning of the Iberian Abilyx); 36.15.1 (Bithynian king Prusias’s moderate reasoning powers). In sum, the ability to estimate, to calculate, to judge the correct value of things, or to assess a situation accurately—in short, the ability to reason—these constitute the semantic range of the word logisma% and its cognates. Logisma% is thus a valid designation for behavior that falls within its semantic field, even in passages where we

appendix c

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do not find the word. Logisma% is the particular preserve of Hellenic virtue (see esp. 5.90.8), and Polybius juxtaposes it to barbarian uyma% (loc. class. 2.35.3–4: uymu mpllon h logismu brabeAesuai). It is the preserve of the well-ordered polity. It is noteworthy that when it is used in passages describing barbarians, it usually is negated; Polybius is pointing out its absence. In a positive sense, we have only the word syllogizamenoi used of the Gauls at 2.26.4 and the Iberian chieftain Edeco’s proferred friendship to Scipio Africanus at 10.34.2; in addition, there is the equivocal case of the nearly oxymoronic phrase syllogismbn \Ibhrikbn kaB barbarikan used of the Iberian Abilyx at 3.98.4. Given Polybius’s stress on institutional factors as the keys to Hellenic virtue, it is no surprise to find the three uses of logisma% as pure reason in the theoretical political analysis of book 6 (6.6.4; 6.6.12; 6.7.3). And here the perverted democracy, ochlocracy, stands far from the exercise of logisma%, partaking of the impulse and emotion of the Polybian barbarian (e.g., 6.56.11, 57.6–9).

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general index

Note: P = Polybius Abdera (Greek city): sacked by Romans (170 b.c.e.), 54 Abilyx (Iberian chieftain): betrays Carthaginians to Romans, 71, 248, 258, 259 Abydos (harbor town on Asiatic side of Hellespont): site of naval battle in Lamian War, 42 Acanthus (Greek city, Chalcidike): Roman sack of (200 b.c.e.), 52 Acarnanians: appeal to Rome against Aetolian Confederation, 47; attacked by Aetolia, 130 Achaean Confederation: allies with Aetolians, 113, 131, 132; collaboration with Rome, 122, 228–30; consults Philip V on Messene’s entry into symmachy (220 b.c.e.), 123; deterioration after 146 b.c.e., 17, 166–67; embassy to Alexandria (188 b.c.e.), 16; exempts Messene from federal taxes (181 b.c.e.), 128, 153; forces Sparta into koinon (189 b.c.e.), 128–29; gains Sparta and Messene, 230; inscription beside altar of Hestia in Homarium, 123; interstate dispute involving Athens and Delos (159/158 b.c.e.), 16; joint action with Aetolia against Illyrians (229 b.c.e.), 133; P on democratic principles of, 122–24, 126, 141, 185; recovers Argos from Macedonia, 230; recovers Corinth

from Macedonia, 230; relations with Macedonia, 43, 228–30; representation of in P, 103, 122–29, 137–43, 185; representative government of, 16; and Roman commission (200 b.c.e.), 153; Roman legates to in aftermath of First Illyrian War (229/228 b.c.e.), 48, 50, 113; seeks aid from Philip V (210/209 b.c.e.), 228; understanding with Rome (198 b.c.e.), 8, 53, 228–32; war against Rome (146 b.c.e.), 83, 226–28, 244 Achaeans: characteristics of in P, 28–29, 136, 152–53; in Homeric epics, 32 Achaemenid Persia, 2, 19 Achaeus (Achaean statesman): honors to in Greece, 227 Achaeus (Seleucid rebel), 5, 104, 249 Acilius, C. (Roman senator and historian), 205 Acilius Glabrio, M’. (consul 191 b.c.e.): and Aetolians, 156–57; brutalities at Coronea and Heraclea (191 b.c.e.), 54; Cato’s superior officer in Antiochene War, 180; financial scandal (187 b.c.e.), 210; largesse of (189 b.c.e.), 209–10; triumph of (190 b.c.e.), 209 Acrocorinth, 127, 133 Actium, Battle of (31 b.c.e.), 43 Adherbal (Carthaginian commander at Drepana, 249 b.c.e.), 110

283

284

general index

Aegates Islands, 110, 115, 120 Aegeira (Greek city), 142 Aegina (Greek island): and Achaean Confederation, 132, 152; Roman sack of (210 b.c.e.), 52, 228n77 Aegitna (town in territory of Oxybii): Roman remonstrances at concerning Ligurian predations (154 b.c.e.), 74 Aegium (Peloponnesian city), 123, 127, 153, 159, 224 Aemilia (wife of Scipio Africanus), 158 Aemilius Lepidus, M. (consul 158 b.c.e.), 190 Aemilius Papus, L. (consul 225 b.c.e.), 258 Aemilius Paullus, L. (consul 219, 216 b.c.e.): grandfather of Scipio Aemilianus, 188n50; representation of in P, 201; Roman ambassador to Carthage (218 b.c.e.), 118n64; triumphs over Illyrians (219 b.c.e.), 114 Aemilius Paullus, L. (consul 182, 168 b.c.e.): confiscates Greek library of King Perseus, 205; death and funeral of, 94, 159; plunders Epirus (167 b.c.e.), 54; representation of in P, 155n39, 158, 179n19; victory over Perseus at Pydna (168 b.c.e.), 17, 54 Aemilius Regillus, L. (praetor 190 b.c.e.), 155n39 Aeneas (Trojan mythological personage), 48 Aenus (Greek city), 160 Aeschines (Athenian orator): and Philip II, 41; and trial of Ctesiphon of Anaphlystus, 41 Aeschylus (Athenian tragedian): Persae, 34 and n13, 36–37; Persian kings Darius and Xerxes in Persae, 37; undermines Greek/barbarian stereotypes, 36–39 Aetolian Confederation: allies with Achaeans, 113, 131, 133; allies with Illyrians, 142; allies with Thebes, 130; attacks Acarnania and Locris (late-fourth century b.c.e.), 130; attacks Achaean Confederation (210/209 b.c.e.), 228; attacks Messene (221 b.c.e.), 132, 134; civil disturbances in (192, 171/170 b.c.e.), 218–19; disgruntled with Romans (190s b.c.e.), 51–52, 151–52, 156–57; expansionist policy of, 130; grants asylia and isopoliteia, 131; joint action with Achaea against Illyrians (229 b.c.e.), 133; and “Laevinus treaty” with Rome (212/211 b.c.e.), 55–56; M. Fulvius Nobilior’s cam-

paign against (189 b.c.e.), 205; Panaetolica assembly (199 b.c.e.), 56, 130; reorganizes Soteria festival commemorating heroic exploits of 279 b.c.e. against Gauls (ca. 250 b.c.e.), 46; representative government in, 16; representation of in P, 28, 103, 129–37, 140–43, 152, 242–44, 258; and Roman commission (200 b.c.e.), 153; Roman legates to in aftermath of First Illyrian War (229/228 b.c.e.), 48, 50, 113; and Social War (220–217 b.c.e.), 55, 134–35; Thermika (annual meeting), 140 Africa, 17, 102, 110, 111 Agathocles (Ptolemaic statesman), 147n10, 257 Agathon (Greek poet): at court of Macedonian monarch Archelaus, 45 Agathuklayasa (Bactrian ruler), 43 Agelaus (Aetolian statesman): speech at Naupactus (217 b.c.e.), 55, 56, 102, 193 and n74, 194, 195, 201, 236, 249 Agrigentum (Sicilian Greek city), 256; Roman atrocities in First RomanoCarthaginian War, 54, 109 Agron (Illyrian dynast): death, 122; as illustration of Illyrian collective character in P, 103–4, 112, 114, 142; as mercenary serving Demetrius II, 112, 141 Aï Khanoum (Greek-Bactrian city): Greek cultural influences in, 46 Airs, Waters, Places (Hippocratic treatise on climate and geography), 79, 81 Alcibiades (Spartan statesman), 129 Alcidamus (Greek intellectual): and slavery, 77 and n28 Alcmaeon (Greek philosopher), 35n17 Alexander (Aetolian statesman), 229n81 Alexander III “The Great” (Macedonian monarch), 138; as founder of cities, 71, 81; impact on Greek history, 31, 40; in modern nationalist debates, 40; royal portraiture of, 58; as savior of Greeks from barbarians, 250 Alexander Balas (Seleucid dynast), 162 Alexander the Isian (Aetolian statesman), 151 Alexandria (Egyptian-Greek city): and Achaean embassy (188 b.c.e.), 16; Museum and Library, 45; and Roman embassy (163 b.c.e.), 53

general index Alexandrians: characteristics of in P, 28 Alexon (Achaean statesman), 136n144 Allobrogians (Gallic tribe), 247, 258 Ambracia (region in northwest Greece), 210n18 Amorgos (Cycladic island): site of naval battle in Lamian War, 42 Amynander (king of Athamania), 153 Andobales (Iberian chieftain): battles Scipio Africanus (206 b.c.e.), 73, 150, 251; interviews with Africanus, 242n3 Andriscus (Macedonian pretender), 163 and n57, 165 Andros (Greek island): Roman sack of (200 b.c.e.), 52 Androtion: on Orpheus’s Thracian origin, 36 Anicius Gallus, L. (consul 160 b.c.e.): erects theater for triumphal celebration (167 b.c.e.), 210 Anticyra (Greek city): suffers Roman predations (210 b.c.e.), 56 Antigonids (Macedonian monarchy): and ethnicity and culture, 31 Antigonus III Doson (Macedonian monarch), 258; aids Achaean Confederation against Cleomenes III (224–222 b.c.e.), 123, 124, 133, 140; Carian expedition (227 b.c.e.), 133n133; death (221 b.c.e.), 134, 137n147; relations with Achaea, 133–34; role at Sellasia (222 b.c.e.), 133 and n134; secures Macedonian borders, 132; symmachy of, 124, 134 Antigonus II Gonatas (Macedonian monarch): and loss of Acrocorinth (243 b.c.e.), 43; cultural life at royal court of, 45 Antiochus I Soter (Seleucid monarch): and Berossus, 44 Antiochus III “The Great” (Seleucid monarch), 249, 258; campaign against Parthia (210/209 b.c.e.), 71–72, 250–51; captures rebel Achaeus (213 b.c.e.), 5; defeat at Thermopylae (191 b.c.e.), 49, 128; impact on history in P, 104; representation of in P, 147n10, 152n29; and Roman commission (196 b.c.e.), 154, 257; war against Rome (192–189 b.c.e.), 152, 154, 180, 188, 219 Antiochus IV Epiphanes (Seleucid monarch): and “Day of Eleusis,” 50, 53; despoils temple of Artemis in Elymais,

285

252; representation of in P, 152n29, 188n53; and Seleucid succession, 161 Antiochus of Syracuse (Greek historian): and inwardly-directed historiography, 25 Antipater (Macedonian regent): as Alexander’s scapegoat, 42; executor of Aristotle’s will, 41 Antipatreia (Greek city): Roman sack of (200 b.c.e.), 52 Antipolis (Greek city): attacked by Ligurians (154 b.c.e.), 74 Antisthenes (Rhodian historian), 49 Antonius, M. (consul 44, 34 b.c.e.): defeat at Actium, 43; propaganda wars of, 237 Apamea, Treaty of (188 b.c.e.), 161 Apelles (Macedonian statesman), 258 Apollo, Lycian (Greek god): predicts Rome’s fall in Phlegon’s Mirabilia, 49 Apollonia (Greek city), 257; appeal to Rome (266 b.c.e.), 47; friend of Rome, 114 Apollonidas of Sicyon (Achaean statesman), 152 Apollonis (Seleucid statesman), 161n51 Appadurai, A., 210 Appian (Greek historian): on controversy of construction of stone theater at Rome, 218; states that Achaeans favored Philip V (198 b.c.e.), 53, 229 Aquileia (Italian town), 253 Aratus of Sicyon (Achaean statesman), 141n161, 257, 258; and Antigonus Doson, 41n44; anti-Macedonian policy of, 132; appeal to Aetolia (225/224 b.c.e.), 133; as architect of Achaean Confederation in P, 104; architect of Megalopolitan embassy to Macedonia (227 b.c.e.), 122, 133; at Argos, 125–26; condemns Cleomenes III, 188n54; in extralegal capacity, 124–25; honors to in Greece, 227; Memoirs, 133–34; representation of in P, 103–4, 124, 133, 135–37, 141n161, 147n10; seizure of Acrocorinth (243 b.c.e.), 43, 124, 133 Aravacae (Celtiberian tribe), 71, 162, 242, 253 Arcadians, 80, 127, 175 Archaic Greece, 175n3; extra-urban and frontier sanctuaries, 32–33; Panhellenism in, 31–32 Archelaus (Macedonian monarch): patronage of Greek poets and artists, 45

286

general index

Archimedes (Syracusan mathematician and inventor), 257; murdered by looting Roman soldier, 50 Archon (Achaean statesman): political associate of P, 221–24, 229, 231; supports Achaean military assistance to Ptolemies, 231 Archytas (Tarentine philosopher and mathematician): and “mixed” constitution, 96 Areus (Spartan statesman), 129 Argives: in Homeric epics, 32; leave Achaean meeting (198 b.c.e.), 53, 127, 229; relations with Achaean Confederation, 125–26; secede from Achaean Confederation to join Philip V, 229 Argolid (region in Peloponnesus), 132 Argos (Peloponnesian city), 126–27, 132–33 Ariarathes IV (Cappadocian king): impact on history in P, 104 Aristaenus (Achaean statesman): Achaeans suspicious of, 231; debate with Philopoemen, 155–56, 194; enjoys close relations with T. Flamininus, 229–30; proposes understanding with Rome (198 b.c.e.), 53, 127, 167, 229–30; representation of in P, 229–30 Aristippus II (Argive tyrant), 126 Aristomachus (Argive tyrant), 125–26, 257 Aristotle (Greek philosopher), 258; and analogy and polarity, 35, 76; anti-democratic attitudes of, 189; and catharsis in tragedy (peripeteia), 37; Constitution of the Athenians, 81; and constitutions, 80–81; ethical foundations of political theory, 75; and geographical/climatic determinism (Politics), 79; knowledge of Gallic sack of Rome, 191n66; and the “natural slave,” 79; and political association, 81; Politics, 79, 81; tutor of Alexander III, 41 Arsaces II (Parthian monarch), 71, 258 Asia, 37, 49, 78–79, 102 Athena (Greek goddess): Perseus issues amnesty decree at temple to Itonian Athena, 218 Athenaeus (Egyptian-Greek symposiastic writer): as source for P’s Book 6, 85 Athens (Greek city): Academy, 153; Assembly’s prayers condemning the Mede, 36; atypical historical development, 39; comparison with Rome in P, 196; democracy of compared with Roman politics, 213;

fifth-century autarky, 44; ideological uses of Persian Wars, 31; interstate dispute with Delos and Achaean Confederation (159/158 b.c.e.), 16; in Peloponnesian War, 19; Panhellenic propaganda in, 33; “philosophical” embassy to Rome (155 b.c.e.), 197–98; representation of in P, 87, 243; resistance against Macedonia, 42; Roman legates to before Achaean War (147/146 b.c.e.), 159–60; Roman legates to in aftermath of First Illyrian War (229/228 b.c.e.), 48, 50, 113; sacked by Xerxes (480 b.c.e.), 253 Atilius Regulus, C. (consul 257, 250 b.c.e.), 200 Atilius Regulus, C. (consul 225 b.c.e.): death in battle, 116 Attalids (rulers of Pergamon): resist 3rd-century b.c.e. Gallic incursions, 46 Attalus I (Pergamene monarch), 153, 205n4, 228 Attalus II (Pergamene monarch), 152, 160, 161n50, 222 Augustine (bishop of Hippo): on controversy of construction of stone theater at Rome, 218 Aurelius Orestes, L. (consul 157 b.c.e.): harsh treatment by Achaeans, 16, 159n49 Aventine hill, 216–17 Bacchanalian conspiracy (186 b.c.e.), 59, 62, 236 Baecula, Battle of (208 b.c.e.), 150, 251 Balearic islanders: as mercenaries in Carthaginian armies, 102n5 Barth, F.: definition of ethnicity, 30 Beneventum, Battle of (275 b.c.e.), 106 Berossus (Babylonian scholar): Greek digest of Babylonian wisdom literature, 44 Bodin, J.: influence of P on, 20 Boeotia (region in central Greece), 130, 152, 188; factional rivalries in, 219 Boii (Gallic tribe), 116 Bolis (Cretan), 5, 78 Bostar (Carthaginian general), 78 Bourdieu, P., 173 Brachylles (Boeotian statesman): murder of, 82, 152 Brennus (Gallic chieftain), 249 Bruns, I.: and depiction of personality in classical historiography, 24–28; and Livy

general index as model for indirect historiography, 27–28 Büttner-Wobst, Th., 85 Buplagos (character in Phlegon’s Mirabilia), 49 Byzantium (Greek city), 248 Cadmus (Theban mythological personage), 45 Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus, Q. (consul 143 b.c.e.): defeats Critolaus at Scarphea (146 b.c.e.), 226–27; spoils from Macedonian campaign, 209 Caecilius Metellus, Q. (consul 206 b.c.e.), 153, 160, 166 Caelius, M. (tribune 184 b.c.e.?), 183 Callicrates (Achaean statesman): and embassy to Roman Senate (180 b.c.e.), 145, 155–56, 225–26; pro-Roman policy of, 222, 225–26; representation of in P, 145, 155–56, 167, 198, 225–26, 230 Callimachus (Greek poet): Hymn to Apollo, 45 Calpurnius Piso Frugi, L. (consul 133 b.c.e. and Roman historian): on ancient Roman virtues and contemporary Roman decay, 178; Annales, 190 Calydon (Aetolian city), 130 Camarina (Greek city): Roman atrocities in First Romano-Carthaginian War, 54 Campania, 256 Campanians (mercenaries), 105–6 Cannae, Battle at (216 b.c.e.), 86, 88, 93n72, 99, 101–2, 121–22, 146, 181, 187, 198, 201, 256 Cape Pachynus, 110 Cape Palinurus, 110 Caphyae (Arcadian town), 131, 134–35, 141n161 Capitoline Hill (Rome), 181 Capua (Italian city), 56n88; defection to Hannibal (215 b.c.e.), 146; Roman siege of (212/211 b.c.e.), 147, 198, 258 Carchi (tribesmen in Mt. Zagrus valley), 249 Carians: characteristics of in P, 28 Carneades (Athenian philosopher-statesman), 197–98, 217 Carthage (north African city), 7, 10, 11n21, 18, 55, 87, 89, 90–92, 95, 97, 101, 103, 105, 107, 109, 111, 117–22, 141, 143, 145, 147, 150, 159, 161, 163–65, 167, 177, 179, 186, 196, 198, 200–201, 206, 218, 225

287

Carthaginians: aggression in Spain, 120, 148, 241–42; characteristics of in P, 77–78, 87, 95, 102–11, 117–22, 141–43, 186, 241–42; covetousness of commanders in Spain (211 b.c.e.), 28; Greek stereotypes of, 36 and n20; Mercenary War, 83, 89, 111, 119, 243–44, 245 Casaubon, I.: praises P, 25 Cassander of Aegina (Achaean statesman), 152 Cassius Hemina, L. (Roman historian), 191 Cassius Vecellinus, Sp. (early Roman demagogue), 190–92, 216 Celtiberians, 150, 242 Celtiberian War (152/151 b.c.e.), 71 Cenchreae (Corinthian port): drowning of Aristomachus off coast of, 126; Roman fleet at, ready to besiege Corinth (198 b.c.e.), 53 Centenius, C. (propraetor 217 b.c.e.), 121 Ceres (Roman goddess), 190; temple dedicated to on Aventine hill, 216 Chaeron (Spartan statesman), 186n47, 188 and n53, 221 Chaeronea: Battle of (338 b.c.e.), 40, 42, 151; in Achaean War, 227 Chalcis (Greek city): Roman garrison at (197/196 b.c.e.), 154; Roman sack of (200 b.c.e.), 52 Charops (Epirote statesman), 152n29, 221, 241n2 Cheilon (Spartan statesman), 188 and n53, 221 Chilon (slave of Cato the Elder), 206 and n6 Chiomara (Galatian noblewoman), 11 and n21, 157n45 Chios, Battle of (201 b.c.e.), 256 Chlaeneas (Aetolian statesman), 194, 249, 258 Chremas (Acarnanian statesman), 221 Chremonidean War (ca. 268–263/262 b.c.e.), 42 Chremonides decree, 42–43 Chrysippus (Stoic philosopher), 81n43 Cincius Alimentus, L. (Roman historian), 191 Cineas (agent of Pyrrhus of Epirus), 181, 205n1 Cius (Greek city): deterioration of in P, 82, 186, 241n2 Claudius Caudex, Ap. (consul 264 b.c.e.), 109n28, 257

288

general index

Claudius Cento, Ap., 230 Claudius Marcellus, M. (consul 222 b.c.e.): adorns temples near Porta Capena with plundered Syracusan art, 51; brutalities at Syracuse, 51, 227; death of, 149; recaptures Syracuse (211 b.c.e.), 50, 146–47 Claudius Marcellus, M. (consul 166, 155, 152 b.c.e.), 162 Claudius Pulcher, Ap. (consul 212 b.c.e.): and siege of Capua (212/211 b.c.e.), 147 Claudius Pulcher, Ap. (consul 185 b.c.e.), 197 Claudius Pulcher, P. (consul 249 b.c.e.): and defeat at Drepana, 110, 200–201 and n94 Cleitor (Peloponnesian city), 104 Cleomenes III (Spartan king), 141n161, 147n10, 258; condemned as social revolutionary in P, 188 and n52, 221; relations with Aetolia, 132–33; seizure of Argos (225 b.c.e.), 126; seizure of Megalopolis (223 b.c.e.), 140; seizure of Tegea, Mantinea, and Orchomenus (229 b.c.e.), 132; strategy against Antigonus Doson, 256; threatens Peloponnesus in P, 104, 124–25; war with Achaea and Macedonia, 122, 124, 132–33, 141–42, 257 Cleopatra VII (Egyptian monarch): defeat at Actium (31 b.c.e.), 43; speaks native Egyptian dialect, 45 Coele Syria: characteristics of inhabitants, 28 Collective societal characteristics: explanations for in Greek thought, 5–6, 75–84 Comitia Centuriata (Roman popular assembly), 175–76 Comitia Tributa (Roman popular assembly), 175–76 Constantinian excerptors, 144, 167; preserve account of Q. Opimius against Oxybii and Decietae, 74 Corbrenae (tribesmen in Mt. Zagrus valley), 249 Corcyra (western Greek island), 113–14, 133n129 Corfinium (Italian city): renamed Italia in Social War, 177 Corinth (Greek city), 132, 253; Achaean assembly (146 b.c.e.), 187; in Achaean War, 83, 160, 166, 227–28; allied council at (220 b.c.e.), 134–35, 140; defended by Philip V, 228; resists Achaeans, 127; Roman destruction of (146 b.c.e.), 17–18, 145, 226–28; Roman garrison at

(197/196 b.c.e.), 154; Roman legates to in aftermath of First Illyrian War (229/228 b.c.e.), 48, 50, 113; Roman threat to (198 b.c.e.), 53; site of Achaean assembly (169/168 b.c.e.), 222 Cornelia (daughter of Scipio Africanus), 207n10 Cornelius Lentulus Caudinus, P. (praetor Sardinia 203 b.c.e.), 155n39 Cornelius Scipio Africanus Aemilianus, P. (consul 147, 134 b.c.e.), 97n86; and adoptive grandfather, Africanus, 224; association with Panaetius, 225; besieges Numantia (133 b.c.e.), 18; castigates P. Sulpicius Galus as cinaedus, 59–60, 182; in Cicero’s De Re Publica, 96n85, 189; denied funds for Spanish campaign by Senate (134 b.c.e.), 224; destroyer of Carthage, 159, 163, 179, 224–25; friend and student of P, 17–18, 159, 179, 224–25, 228, 239; on Greek music and dancing, 61, 182; knowledge of Homer, 205; representation of in P, 158–59, 162–63, 167, 174, 179–80, 188, 205, 224–25; self-image as paragon of ancient Roman morality, 179–80; slays Iberian chieftain in single combat, 253; supports secret ballot laws, 224; unorthodox political career, 179–80, 224–25 Cornelius Scipio Africanus Minor, P. (adoptive father of Scipio Aemilianus), 158 Cornelius Scipio Africanus, P. (consul 205, 194 b.c.e.), 50n69, 51, 180, 256–59; activities in Spain, 73–74, 243, 251; asked to give account of monies received from Antiochus III, 256; effect of career on Roman politics, 213–14; ideas on masses, 89n65; letter to Prusias of Bithynia, 154; military discipline of, 149; obituary in P (from Livy), 150; parallelism with Philopoemen in P, 146–51, 167; refuses title of king, 149; representation of in P, 148–51, 154n38, 155n39, 157–58, 174, 186, 256–57, 258; restraint in sexual matters, 149; as Salian priest, 149n19; senators charge excessive devotion to Greek cultural practices, 60n103, 184 and n39, 206–7 and nn7–8; suspicious of Numidian treachery, 28; uses of religious superstition, 149; war booty taken by in victory over Hannibal, 209

general index Cornelius Scipio Asiaticus, L. (consul 190 b.c.e.): stages magnificent games (186 b.c.e.), 210 Cornelius Scipio Asina, Cn. (consul 260, 254 b.c.e.), 200 Cornelius Scipio Calvus, Cn. (consul 222 b.c.e.), 258 Cornelius Scipio Nasica Corculum, P. (consul 162, 155 b.c.e.), 158, 182; censorship (159 b.c.e.), 190; debate with Cato over destruction of Carthage, 184n41, 218 and n53; opposes construction of stone theater (154 b.c.e.), 217 Cornelius Scipio Nasica, P. (consul 191 b.c.e.): Senate refuses to fund games of, 210 Cornelius Scipio, P. (consul 218 b.c.e.), 256, 258 Coruncanius, C. (Roman legate to Illyria), 142 Cos (Greek island): decree of thanksgiving (279 b.c.e.), 43 Cossaei (tribesmen in Mt. Zagrus valley), 249 Crannon (Thessaly): site of battle in Lamian War, 42 Cretans: characteristics of in P, 28, 152; government of in P, 83, 243 Critolaus (Achaean statesman), 160, 166–67, 187, 188, 216n48, 226, 232, 256 Croce, B., 26 Croiset, A.: on P’s literary qualities, 21 Croton (Italian Greek city), 146 and n8 cultural politics: definition of, 4–5 culture: definition of, 4–5, 30–31 Curial Assembly (at Rome), 175 Curius Dentatus, M’. (consul 290, 275, 274 b.c.e.), 180; legates of murdered by Gauls (284 b.c.e.), 243 Cydonians (Crete): atrocities of, 152 Cynaetha (Arcadian city), 142, 186, 244 Cynaethaeans: characteristics of in P, 29, 82–83, 175, 244 Cynoscephalae, Battle of (197 b.c.e.), 135n141, 151, 154, 156, 195, 252 Cyrenaica (north Africa): ethnicity and culture in Hellenistic period, 31 Cyrus (king of Persia): aphorism of in Herodotus, 38, 78 Dalmatians: war with Romans (157/156 b.c.e.), 161–62, 242

289

Damoxenos (Achaean statesman), 127 Danaans: in Homeric epics, 32 Dardanians: embassy to Senate (177/176 b.c.e.), 151; incursions into Macedonia, 132; revolt from Illyrians under Teuta, 112 Darius (king of Persia): as descendant of Perseus in Aeschylus’s Persae, 37n25; and Marathon campaign, 37 Decietae (Ligurian tribe): battles against Q. Opimius (155/154 b.c.e.), 74–75, 243 Decimius, C. (Roman ambassador), 213n41 Decius (Campanian mercenary captain), 106 Decius Mus, P. (consul 340 b.c.e.), 176–78, 180 Deinocrates (Messenian statesman), 128, 136n143, 152n29 Deinon (Rhodian statesman), 257 Delos (Greek island): interstate dispute involving Athens (159/158 b.c.e.), 16; Perseus issues amnesty decree at, 218; sculptures commemorating repulse of Gallic incursions, 46 Delphi (Greek oracular site), 33, 250; and Perseus’s amnesty decree, 218; proxenoi or state representatives and, 33; Roman embassy and, 49 Demetrias (Greek city): Roman garrison at (197/196 b.c.e.), 154 Demetrius of Pharos (Illyrian dynast): avoids giving offense to Romans, 114; as illustration of Illyrian collective character in P, 103–4, 113–14, 135, 140, 243, 258 Demetrius Poliorcetes (Antigonid monarch): possible diplomatic contact with Rome, 47–48 Demetrius I Soter (Seleucid monarch): flight from Rome (162 b.c.e.), 11, 161; and murder of Cn. Octavius, 161 Demetrius II (Macedonian monarch), 112, 131 Demosthenes (Athenian orator): admired by Cato the Elder, 183; indictment of Philip II as barbaros, 41; and Persian Wars, 36; and trial of Ctesiphon of Anaphlystus, 41 Diaeus (Achaean statesman), 83, 160, 166–67, 188 and n53, 232, 242n6, 253, 256 Diana (Roman goddess): temple dedicated to on Aventine hill, 216

290

general index

Dicaearchus (Greek polymath): and “mixed” constitution, 96; Tripolitikos, 96 Diodochi (Alexander’s successors): Iranian commanders under, 44n55 Diodorus (Sicilian historian): on Ligurian character, 36; on Roman sack of Corinth, 227; on trial of M. Manlius Capitolinus, 192; use of P as source, 233n89 Diogenes (Seleucid governor of Susa), 72, 251 Diogenes Laertius (biographical writer), 97 Diogenes of Babylon (Stoic philosopher), 82n47 Dionysius II (Sicilian tyrant), 246 Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Greek antiquarian): criticism of P’s history, 21; on Roman temple to Diana, 216; as source for P’s Book 6, 85; on Sp. Maelius, 190–91 Diophanes (Achaean statesman), 124, 153n33, 231 Diotimus (chariot race victor), 45 Dissoi Logoi (Greek rhetorical exercise), 34–35 Dium (Macedonian sanctuary), 242 Dodona (Greek sanctuary), 242 Dorimachus (Aetolian statesman): actions in Peloponnesus, 135; representation of in P, 103–4, 130, 134, 135–37, 140, 221, 256 Doris (region in central Greece), 132 Drepana, Battle of (249 b.c.e.), 110 and n33, 200, 256 Droysen, G., 46 Dryden, J.: influence of P on, 20 Dubuisson, M., 59 Duris of Samos (Greek historian), 165n60 Dyme (Achaean Greek city): ambassadors from leave Achaean meeting (198 b.c.e.), 53, 127, 229; refuses to pay Achaean federal tax (219 b.c.e.), 126; Roman sack of (208 b.c.e.), 52; Roman settlement of (ca. 144 b.c.e.), 215–16 Ecbatana (Parthian city), 71 Eckstein, A. M., 108, 157, 164 Edeco (Iberian chieftain), 258, 259 Egypt, 31 and n2, 45 and n60, 53, 102, 104, 151, 222, 228n75 Egyptians: characteristics of in P, 28; ethniccultural identity under Ptolemies, 31; Greek stereotypes of, 36 and n20 Elatia (Phocian Greek city): besieged by Flamininus, 53

Eleans: characteristics of in P, 175 Elis (Greek city), 112, 128, 131, 134n138 Emathia (Macedonian town), 252 Empedocles: polarity of love (philia) and strife (neikos), 35 Ennius (Roman poet): Annales, 177; on Gallic sack of Rome, 191 Epaminondas (Boeotian statesman), 258; admired by Cato the Elder, 183, 206 and n6 Eperatus (Achaean statesman): ineptitudes of in P, 104 Ephorus (Greek historian), 258; and climatic regions, 78 and n34 Epidamnus (Greek city), 113 Epidaurus (Greek city): inscription from honoring Thearidas, brother of P, 16 and n4 Epirotes: censure of in P, 114; entrust city to Gallic mercenaries, 114, 245; and Roman commission (200 b.c.e.), 153 Epirus, 54 and n84, 133n129, 146, 180, 221, 230 Ethiopians: explanations for somatic characteristics of, 79 Etruscans: Greek influences at Rome from, 61; Greek stereotypes of, 36; wars against Rome, 106 Eumenes II (Pergamene monarch), 152 and n29, 160–61, 258; Achaeans restore honors to, 222, 230; allegations against Perseus, 218–19, 220–21 Euripides (Greek tragedian): at court of Macedonian monarch Archelaus, 45 Eusebius (church chronicler): as source for P’s Book 6, 85 Eustathius (Byzantine scholar): as source for P’s Book 6, 85 Euthydemus (Bactrian ruler), 72n13, 251 Excerpta Antiqua (abridgment of Polybius’s Histories, 1–18), 21n24, 85, 144, 167 Fabius Buteo, M. (consul 245 b.c.e.), 118 Fabius, Caeso (quaestor 486 b.c.e.), 190 Fabius Maximus Aemilianus, Q. (consul 145 b.c.e.): brother of Scipio Aemilianus and friend of P, 17 Fabius Maximus Servilianus, Q. (consul 142 b.c.e.): settles civil unrest at Dyme, 215 Fabius Maximus Verrucosus, Q. (consul 233, 228, 215, 214, 209 b.c.e.), 258; Cunctator

general index (“Delayer”), 187, 256; dictator, 121, 187; moderate policy of, 187, 201, 256; sack of Tarentum (209 b.c.e.), 50, 227 Fabius Pictor, Q.: on ancient Roman virtues, 178; on M. Manlius Capitolinus, 191; source for P, 107n23, 109n30, 138n152, 178; writes history in Greek, 205 Falisci: rebellion from Rome, 111, 121n74 Fannius Strabo, C. (consul 161 b.c.e.): sponsors sumptuary legislation, 61 Ferrary, J.-L., 197 Festinger, L., 208 Fetiales (Roman priesthood), 179–80 and n22 Fine, J. V. A., 131 Finley, M. I.: on history’s function, 26 Flamen Dialis (ancient Roman priesthood), 175 Flamen Martialis (ancient Roman priesthood), 175 Flamen Quirinalis (ancient Roman priesthood), 175 Flaminius, (?son of C. Flaminius, consul 187 b.c.e.?): mistreated as Roman legate by Oxybii and Decietae, 74 Flaminius, C. (consul 223, 217 b.c.e.): decorates helmet with Suebic scalp, 116n54; negative assessment of in P, 116, 188, 201, 257–58 Forum Boarium (Rome): human sacrifice in, 62 Fulvius Flaccus, Q. (consul 179 b.c.e.): largesse to soldiers (179 b.c.e.), 209; predations from Crotoniate shrine for Roman temple to Fortuna Equestris, 54 Fulvius Nobilior, M. (consul 189 b.c.e.): celebrated by Ennius, 205; hears complaints of Aegienses, 127; representation of in P, 157n45; stages magnificent games (186 b.c.e.), 210; triumphs over Aetolians and Cephallenians (187 b.c.e.), 210 Fundanius, M. (tribune 195 b.c.e.), 181 Furius Camillus, L. (dictator 345 b.c.e.), 192n70 Furius Camillus, M. (dictator 396, 390, 389, 368, 367 b.c.e.), 177, 180n22, 192 Furius Philus, L. (consul 136 b.c.e.), 179–80 and n22 Gaesatae (Gallic tribe), 115–16 Galatians (Gauls): attack on Pergamene kingdom, 161; representation of in P,

291

242–43; and Roman embassy (163 b.c.e.), 53 Galen (Greek physician): and Greek/barbarian bipolarity, 77n27 Gauls (Celts): attack on Delphi (279 b.c.e.), 46, 70–71; burial alive in Forum Boarium, 62; characteristics of in P, 102, 111, 114–17, 139, 140–43, 187, 241–43, 256, 258–59; Gallic tumultus (225 b.c.e.), 116, 236; Greek stereotypes of, 36 and n20; as mercenaries in Carthaginian armies, 102n5, 110n33; sack Rome (ca. 386 b.c.e.), 62n113, 105, 138, 177, 191; wars against Rome, 102, 105, 114–17, 119 Gazans: characteristics of in P, 29 Genthius (Illyrian dynast), 152n29 Geometric Greece: Panhellenism in, 31–32 Gerunium (Apulia), 187 Geskon (Carthaginian commander), 111 Gibbon, E.: compared to P, 23 Gorgias (Sicilian rhetorician): teacher of Alcidamus, 77; use of simile and antithesis, 34–35 Greece: in geographical arrangement of P’s narrative, 102 Greeks: as mercenaries in Carthaginian armies, 102n5 Gruen, E. S., 197 Habicht, Chr., 44 Haliartus (Boeotian Greek city): Roman mass enslavement of (171 b.c.e.), 54 Hamilcar Barca (Carthaginian commander), 110, 117, 120 Hannibal (Carthaginian commander in First Romano-Carthaginian War), 105n12 Hannibal Barca (Carthaginian commander), 73, 87, 102–4, 192, 251–52, 255–58; actions in Apulia, 187; actions in Spain, 120–21, 246; captures Tarentum, 149; defeated by Scipio Africanus, 209; description of troops of in P, 244; as illustration of Carthaginian collective character in P, 103–4, 120–21, 148; interview with Africanus before Zama, 150; marches over Alps, 115, 247; obituary in P (from Livy), 150; representation of in P, 102–4, 117–21, 148, 255–58; and support from home government, 118–19 Hanno (Carthaginian commander in First Romano-Carthaginian War), 258

292

general index

Hasdrubal Barca (brother of Hannibal), 147, 150, 251, 257–58 Hecatompylus (Parthian city), 71 Heraclea (Greek city), 156, 227 Heraclides (Seleucid statesman), 162 Heraclides of Pontus (Greek philosopher), 49, 205 Heraclides of Tarentum, 221 Heraclitus (Greek philosopher), 35n17 Hercules: and human sacrifice, 62n113; Temple in Rome (ded. 187 b.c.e.), 205 Hermeias (Seleucid official), 78, 249 Hermione (Greek town), 133 Hermocrates (Sicilian statesman), 221 Herodotus (Greek historian): and climatic determinism, 78; and “Constitutional Debate” of Persian nobles, 81; and crucifixion of Persian satrap, 38; and legend of Lydian king Croesus, 38; on Persians as barbarians, 38–39; predecessor to P, 19; stated reason for composing Histories, 19; as subjective historian, 24; undermines Greek/barbarian stereotypes, 36–39; work compared to P’s, 21, 24–25 Hesiod (Greek poet): Panhellenism in, 32 Hestiaeotis (district in Thessaly), 132, 133n128 Hiero II (Syracusan monarch): attack on Messana, 106–7, 200, 245; and Carthaginians, 109, 245, 256; relations with Rome, 109n29, 257 Hieronymus (Syracusan monarch), 147 and n10 Hieronymus of Cardia (Greek historian): and Lamian War, 41–42 Hippodamus (Milesian town planner): and “mixed” constitution, 96 Hobsbawm, E., 179–80 Homer (Greek epic poet): aristocratic bias in (Odysseus and Thersites), 188; criticized by Lucian and Velleius Paterculus, 25; and Cyclopes, 80; Panhellenism in, 32; quoted by Cato the Elder, 206 and n6 Horace (Roman poet), 236 Horatius Cocles (legendary Roman hero), 87, 94 Hostilius Mancinus, A. (consul 170 b.c.e.): sacks Greek city of Abdera (170 b.c.e.), 54 Hostilius Mancinus, A. (legate to East 149 b.c.e.), 166n62

Hostilius Mancinus, C. (consul 137 b.c.e.): disgraceful defeat in Spain (foedus Mancinum), 179–80 and n22 Hoyos, B. D., 108 Hyperbas (officer of Antiochus III), 72 Hyperbatus (Aetolian statesman), 156 Hyrcania: Antiochus III marches into, 72–73, 250 Iberians: characteristics of in P, 116n57; embassies to Senate (152 b.c.e.), 162; as mercenaries in Carthaginian armies, 102n5; Scipio Africanus’s campaign against, 73–74; treatment by Carthaginians, 148 Ilergetes (Iberian tribe), 73–74, 243 Ilipa (Spanish town), 257 Iliturgis (Spanish town), 57n90 Illyrians: against Aetolo-Achaean force, 133; allies with Aetolians, 142–43; characteristics of in P, 102–4, 111–14, 141–42, 187, 241, 243; First Illyrian War, 3, 47–48, 50, 112–13, 119, 228; Second Illyrian War, 113–14 Insubres (Gallic tribe), 116 Intercatia (Spanish town), 253 Ionians (Greek ethnic group): Herodotus on, 78 Isocrates (Athenian political writer): and constitutions, 80; disparaged by Cato, 206; Panegyricus, 77; on Persian phusis, 77; Philippus and Epistles, 40–41 Isocrates (Syrian statesmen): approves murder of Roman legate Cn. Octavius, 54 Issa (Illyrian stronghold), 112, 113n40 Isthmian Games (Corinth): Isthmian Proclamation (196 b.c.e.), 50–2, 54, 154; Romans admitted to after First Illyrian War, 3, 48 Isthmus of Corinth, 132, 134, 227 Italians: characteristics of in P, 77–78, 82; excel Carthaginian forces in P, 77–78 Italy, 4n5, 17–18, 48–49, 52, 54, 84, 102, 105, 107, 115, 122, 146, 177, 187, 193, 208, 214, 224, 247, 249, 250–51 Iunius Brutus, M. (tribune 195, consul 178 b.c.e.), 181 Iunius Brutus, P. (tribune 195 b.c.e.), 181 Josephus ( Jewish historian): on importance of his work, 19

general index Julian (Roman emperor): describes P at siege of Carthage, 18n15 Julius Caesar, C. (consul 59, 48, 46, 45, 44 b.c.e.): and restoration of Corinth, 227 Julius Caesar, Sex. (consul 157 b.c.e.), 159, 166 Juno (Roman goddess): evocation from Veii, 180n22; temple to Juno Moneta, 192nn69–70 Jupiter (Roman god): temple to Jupiter Stator, 209n17 Justin (epitomator of Pompeius Trogus’s “Philippic Histories”), 227 Kallett Marx, R., 215 Kuhrt, A., 44 Labus, Mt., 72–73, 251 Laelius, C. (consul 190 b.c.e.): Africanus’s confidant, 149n22; maneuvers against Iberian Ilergetes (206 b.c.e.), 73 Laelius Sapiens, C. (consul 140 b.c.e.): associate of Scipio Aemilianus and P, 179; image as paragon of ancient Roman morality, 179 and n17; speech De Collegiis, 179 Lamian War (323–322 b.c.e.), 41–42 Laodicea ad Mare (Greek city), 54n83 Latins: Roman wars against, 106, 176 Lehmann, G. A.: on P’s impartiality and objectivity, 23, 25 Leonidas (Spartan king): admired by Cato the Elder, 183, 206n6 Leontius (Macedonian statesman), 258 Leptines (murderer of Cn. Octavius), 161 Leuctra, Battle of (371 b.c.e.), 130, 140 Lex Aelia: and tribunician legislation, 212 Lex Fufia: and tribunician legislation, 212 Lex Oppia (Roman sumptuary law), 60–61, 181 Lex Orchia (Roman sumptuary law), 181n27 Lex Villia: imposes minimum age requirements for public office at Rome, 213–14 and n42, 224 Libya, 107, 111, 199 Libyans: characteristics of in P, 28, 78, 82, 116n57 Licinius, M. (legate to East 149 b.c.e.), 166n62 Licinius Crassus, C. (tribune 145 b.c.e.), 179 Licinius Crassus Dives Mucianus, P. (consul 131 b.c.e.), 206

293

Ligurians: attack Greek cities, 74–75, 252; campaign of Q. Fulvius Flaccus against, 209; as mercenaries in Carthaginian armies, 102n5 Lilybaeum (Sicilian city), 111, 147, 199n89 Lintott, A. W., 191 Lipari Islands, 200 Lipsius, J.: influence of P on, 20 Lissus (Illyrian site), 113 Liternum: site of Scipio Africanus’s villa, 207 and n11 Livius Macatus, M. [C. Livius in P] (Roman prefect at Tarentum), 149, 201 Livius Salinator, M. (consul 219, 207 b.c.e.): Roman ambassador to Carthage, 118n64 Livy (Roman historian), 20, 51–52, 61; on Aristaenus and “freedom of the Greeks,” 229–30; on Cato the Elder, 181; on early Roman demagogues, 190–92; and exempla of ancient Roman virtue, 176–78; high regard for P, 23n32; indirect method of, 27–28; and N. Perotti’s translation of P, 20; on origins of Roman corruption, 182; and Polybian passage on Panaetolica assembly (199 b.c.e.), 56, 193; and Polybian passage on Q. Marcius Philippus, 145, 182, 196n80; reproduces P on anti-Roman Macedonian speech, 195, 201; reproduces speeches of Eumenes II and Marcius Philippus against Perseus, 219, 231n86; on Roman sumptuary laws, 61, 181 (Oppian law) Locri (southern Italian Greek city): Roman recovery of (205 b.c.e.), 51 Locris (region in central Greece): conference (198 b.c.e.), 52, 130, 151, 153 Longanus, Battle of (ca. 265 b.c.e.), 107 Lucanians: ambush Roman force, 147 Lucian (satirist): historiographical strictures (criticism of Homer), 25 Lucilius, C. (Roman satirist), 179 Ludi Romani (Roman games), 178 Lusitanians (Spanish people), 210 Lutatius Catulus, C. (consul 242 b.c.e.), 110n34, 258; training of soldiers, 115–16; treaty with Carthage, 111 Lycian League: dedication to Capitoline Jupiter (160s b.c.e.), 186 Lyciscus (Acarnanian statesman): speech at Sparta (210 b.c.e.), 55–56, 133n134, 193n74, 194–95, 201, 236, 250

294

general index

Lyciscus (Aetolian statesman): evil influence of in P, 104n9, 221 Lycortas (Achaean statesman): as Achaean cavalry commander, 15–16; attitudes toward Rome, 56n88, 156, 221–23, 230; as general, 16; as maker of Achaean Confederation in P, 104; and Messenians, 151, 223; oratorical skills of, 223; P’s father, 15, 221; and political differences with P, 223; and Ptolemaic request for military assistance (169/168 b.c.e.), 222; representation of in P, 104, 153n33; restoration of public statues of in Greece, 223; speaks before Roman commission (184 b.c.e.), 197–98, 223–24, 228, 230; supports Achaean assistance to Ptolemies, 231 Lycurgus (Spartan lawgiver): mastermind of Spartan constitution, 20, 86, 91, 149, 186, 242–43, 258 Lycurgus (Spartan statesman): impact on history in P, 104 Lysimachus (Macedonian monarch): death, 137n147 Lysippus (Achaean statesman), 124 and n86 Lysippus (Greek sculptor): rendering of Alexander III, 58 Macaulay, Lord, 94 Maccius Plautus, T. (Roman playwright), 218 Macedonia: characteristics of in P, 28; in Cleomenic War, 132–33; cultural identity and Hellenic pretensions of, 40, 47–48; ethnic-cultural identity under Antigonids, 31; First Macedonian War, 148–49, 228; fourth-century b.c.e. rise, 40; in geographical arrangement of P’s narrative, 102; likened to barbarian Persians, 40–43; monarchy, 2; and Roman embassy (163 b.c.e.), 53; Second Macedonian War, 50, 228–29; Third Macedonian War, 155, 159, 182, 218–19; as threat to Rome in P, 163 Machanidas (Spartan tyrant), 116n54, 150, 258 Machiavelli, N.: apparent knowledge of P’s political theory, 20; Discorsi, 136n144 Maelius, Sp. (early Roman demagogue), 190–92 Magna Graecia: Greek influences at Rome from, 61

Magna Mater, 205n4 Mago the Bruttian (Carthaginian statesman), 164 Mamertines (Campanian mercenaries): appeal to Rome, 48, 106–7, 140, 187, 200; representation of in P, 243, 245 Mandonius (Iberian chieftain), 251 Manetho of Sebynnytus (Egyptian high priest): composes Aegyptiaca for Ptolemy I, 44 Manlius Capitolinus, Cn. (consul 359, 357 b.c.e.), 192n70 Manlius Capitolinus, M. (early Roman demagogue), 191–92 Manlius Vulso, Cn. (consul 189 b.c.e.), 155n39; attempted treachery against by Galatians, 243; triumph (187 b.c.e.), 182 Manlius Vulso, L. (legate to East 149 b.c.e.), 166n62 Mantinea (Arcadian city), 258; Aetolian relations with, 131; Battle of (207 b.c.e.), 150, 194; Cleomenes’ seizure of, 132, 134; rebellion from Achaean Confederation, 127, 142; treachery of according to P, 125–26 Marathon, Battle of (490 b.c.e.), 19, 37; depicted in Stoa Poikile (Athens), 34 Marcius Philippus, Q. (consul 186, 169 b.c.e.): allegations against Perseus, 218–19; and P, 230; Machiavellian policy of, 145, 196n80; representation of in P, 157n45, 196n80; urges Achaeans to follow Roman policy of mediation (169/168 b.c.e.), 222, 231 Margos (Achaean statesman), 136n144 Maronea (Greek city), 160 Massanissa (Numidian king), 161 Massilia (Greek city): complains to Senate of Ligurian predations (154 b.c.e.), 74, 252 Media, 71, 250 Medion (Acarnanian site), 112 Megalopolis (Arcadian city): and Achaean Confederation, 127, 132; ambassadors leave Achaean meeting (198 b.c.e.), 53, 127, 229; “Arcadian” coinage of, 128; in Cleomenic War, 124, 140; erects honors for P, 18; P’s birthplace, 15, 188, 221; and Philopoemen, 128, 223 Megara (Greek city), 132 Melinno (Greek poet): Roma (Sapphic hymn), 49

general index Memnon of Pellene (Achaean statesman), 229 mercenaries, 48, 70, 105–6, 110n33, 111–12 and n36, 114, 119, 126, 148, 245; characteristics of Carthaginian mercenaries in P, 83, 89 and n66, 95n79, 102, 141–42, 242–45, 252 Messana (Sicilian city), 106–7, 109, 137, 200, 245, 257 Messene (Peloponnesian town), 104, 124, 128–30, 132, 134, 140, 153, 157, 223, 226 Messenia, 112, 123, 131 Metaurus, Battle of (207 b.c.e.), 148 Methydrium (Peloponnesian town), 256 Metrodorus (Athenian painter): celebrates L. Aemilius Paullus’s victory at Pydna, 205 Minucius, L. (tribune 439 b.c.e.?), 190 Minucius Rufus, M. (consul 221, dictator 217 b.c.e.): castigated by P, 187–88, 201 Mnasippus (Boeotian statesman), 221 Moagetes of Cibyra, 152n29 Molon (Seleucid rebel), 249, 258 Molossian dynasts: self-promotion as Hellenes, 40 Molpagoras of Cius (Greek statesman): castigated as demagogue by P, 186, 188, 221, 243 Momigliano, A., 26 Montesquieu, Ch.: influence of P on, 20 Mummius, L. (consul 146 b.c.e.): boorishness of, 228; and sack of Corinth, 215n46, 227; settlement in Greece, 216n48 Muses: temple at Rome (ded. 187 b.c.e.), 205 Mytistratum (Greek city): Roman atrocities in First Romano-Carthaginian War, 54 Nabis (Spartan tyrant), 124, 152n29, 188 and n52, 215, 221 Naevius, Cn. (Roman poet): critical of Scipio Africanus, 206 and n8 Naupactus (Greek port city): Romans at, 49, 153; speech of Aetolian ambassador Agelaus (217 b.c.e.), 55–56, 193–94 Nearchus of Tarentum (Pythagorean philosopher), 183, 206 New Carthage (capital of Punic Spain), 11, 57n90, 120–21, 148–49 and n19, 255, 258 Nicaea (Greek city): attacked by Ligurians (154 b.c.e.), 74 Nicanor (general of Philip V), 153

295

Nicholas V (Pope): N. Perotti’s Latin translation dedicated to (1454), 21 Nicias (Athenian statesman), 147n10 Numa Pompilius (legendary Roman king), 85n58, 179 Numantia (Spanish town), 18 Numantine War (133 b.c.e.), 18, 20 Numidia, 161 Numidians: characteristics of in P, 28; as mercenaries in Carthaginian armies, 102n5; provoke C. Terentius Varro, 201n96; Scipio Africanus distrusts, 28 Ocellus Lucanus (Pythagorean thinker): on periodic destructions of civilization, 96–97 Ochlocracy (mob rule), 6, 69, 86, 89, 95, 99, 167, 186, 189, 192–93, 202, 217, 232, 237, 241–44, 259 Octavian [Augustus] (Roman warlord): manipulation of cultural symbols, 237; reinscribes statue of Africanus’s daughter, Cornelia, 207n10; victory at Actium, 43 Octavius, Cn. (consul 165 b.c.e.): heads Roman eastern embassy (163 b.c.e.), 50, 53–54, 161; prepared to accuse Polybius, Archon, and Lycortas before Achaean assembly (170/169 b.c.e.), 224; translates L. Aemilius Paullus’s speech at Amphipolis (168 b.c.e.), 205n1 Odysseus (Homeric hero), 22, 188, 206, 239 Opheltas (Boeotian statesman), 186n47 Opimius, Q. (consul 154 b.c.e.): campaigns against Oxybii and Decietae (155/154 b.c.e.), 74–75, 243, 252; character of in P, 78 Oppius, C. (tribune 215 b.c.e.), 181 Orchian law (sumptuary law, 182 b.c.e.), 61 Orchomenus (Arcadian city), 127, 131–32, 134 Oreus (Greek city): Romans enslave population of, 52 Oropus (Greek city), 197 Oxus River, 251 Oxybii (Ligurian tribe): battles against Q. Opimius (155/154 b.c.e.), 74–75, 243, 252 Pachynum (Sicilian city), 147 Paionia (Macedonian town), 252

296

general index

Panaenus (Athenian painter): depiction of Marathon in Stoa Poikile, 34 Panaetius (Stoic philosopher): and “mixed” constitutions, 97; and Scipio Aemilianus, 225 Panhellenism: in Geometric and archaic Greece, 32–33; at time of Persian invasions, 33–34, 36–39 Panormus (Sicilian Greek city), 110 Papiria (mother of Scipio Aemilianus), 159 Patrae (Achaean Greek city): and Achaean Confederation, 127, 227 Pausanias (Greek geographer): on battle at Chaeronea and Lamian War, 42; sees honors for P at Megalopolis, 18; source for Achaean War, 226; on Spartan embassies to Rome (184/183 b.c.e.), 129 Pausanias (Spartan king): adopts Persian dress, 37–38 Paxos (Ionian island), 113 Pédech, P., 11 Pella (Macedonian capital), 41–42 Pericles (Athenian statesman): admired by Cato the Elder, 183, 206; and Funeral Oration, 81 Perotti, N.: Latin translation of P (1454), 21; on P as stylist, 21 Perrhaebia (region along northern border of Thessaly): civil disturbances in, 218– 19 Perseus (Macedonian king): alleged cooperation with Gauls and Bastarnae, 151; charged by Greeks and Roman authorities with fomenting socio-economic revolutions, 218–19; defeated at Pydna (168 b.c.e.), 17, 60; early reign, 151; early victory over Romans, 155; and Eumenes II, 160, 218–19, 258; Greek library of, 205; issues amnesty decree, 218–19; representation of in P, 152n29, 188 and n53, 257; sends envoys to Antiochus III, 157 Persians: representation of in P, 242–43, 253, 258 Persian Wars: as impetus for Greek/barbarian bipolarity, 33–40; Panhellenic sentiments concerning, 40, 250 Petillius Spurinus, Q. (consul 176 b.c.e.): burns Greek philosophical writings as urban praetor (181 b.c.e.), 60; probable ally of Cato the Elder, 206 Petrarch, Fr.: mentions P, 20

Peucastas (general under Alexander III and satrap of Persia): wears native Persian dress, 45 Phaeneas (Aetolian statesman), 156–57 Phaloria (Thessalian city): Roman sack of, 52 Pharae (Achaean city): refuses to pay Achaean federal tax, 126–27 Pharnaces I (king of Pontus), 152n29 Phigalea (Peloponnesian town), 131, 134 and nn137–38 Philadelphia (Egyptian town), 45 Philemon (Syracusan comic poet): and slavery, 77 Philinus (Greek statesman), 83, 253 Philinus (pro-Carthaginian Greek historian): source for P, 138n152 Philip II (Macedonian monarch), 138, 258; character of in P, 151; in modern nationalist debates, 40 Philip V (Macedonian monarch), 51–52, 57n90, 140, 248–49, 252, 256–58; on Aetolians, 130–31; as benefactor of Achaean Confederation, 228–29; at Cynoscephalae (197 b.c.e.), 195; impact on history of in P, 104; and Locris conference (198 b.c.e.), 130–31, 151; and Panaetolica assembly (199 b.c.e.), 193; and population transfers in Macedonia, 83; and Social War, 55, 123; and Tempe conference, 154; representation of in P, 104, 134, 147n10, 152n29, 154–55, 256; on Roman institutions, 67n1; refuses Flamininus’s demands at Aous conference, 52; sacks Thermum (218 b.c.e.), 126; summons Achaean meeting at Aegium in Social War, 123; Thracian campaign of (183 b.c.e.), 252; treatment of Phthiotic Thebes, 132n122 Philocles (general of Philip V), 127 Philopoemen (Achaean statesman): critical of Romans, 56n88; death at Messene (182 b.c.e.), 16, 150, 223; debate with Aristaenus, 155, 157, 194; in extra-legal capacity, 124–25; funeral of, 16, 223; heroics at Sellasia (222 b.c.e.), 123, 133, 141, 154; honors to in Greece, 223, 227; interferes in Messenian affairs, 128; at Mantinea (207 b.c.e.), 194–95, 258; obituary of in P (from Livy), 150; oratorical skills of, 223; parallelism with Africanus in P, 146–51, 167; proposes variable site

general index for Achaean meetings, 127; relief of Messene, 124; representation of in P, 78, 150, 153n33, 157, 188, 223, 230, 242; and Spartan unrest, 128–29; stern military discipline of as cavalry commander, 150 Philostratus (Molossian statesman), 152n29 Phlegon of Tralles (Greek writer): Mirabilia, 49–50 and n69 Phlius (Greek town), 133 Phocion (Athenian statesman), 42 Phocis (region in central Greece), 130 Phoenice (Epirote city), 112, 114, 153 Phoenicians: characteristics of in P, 78, 82, 119n68, 243 Phokylides (Milesian Greek poet): on the polis, 80 Phormiscus (Dymaean statesman), 215 Phrygians: Greek stereotypes of, 36 Phrynichus (Greek tragedian): Phoenissae, 34 and n13 Phthiotis (district in Thessaly), 133n128 Phylarchus (Greek historian): castigated by P, 125–26, 165 and n60; source for P, 138n152 Picenum (mid-Adriatic area), 188, 201n95 Pindar (Greek poet): on character of West Locrians, 77 Pinnes (Illyrian dynast), 113n40 Piraeus (Athenian harbor): Macedonian garrison at, 42 Pisistratus (Athenian tyrant), 206 Plato (Greek philosopher): anti-democratic attitudes of, 189; and constitutions, 80–81; and education, 81; and environmental determinism, 78–79; and ethical foundations of political theory, 75; and ideal state, 84; Laws, 81; and “mixed” constitution, 96 and n83; Republic, 22, 81 Pleminius, Q. (Scipio Africanus’s propraetor): despoils Locrian temples, 51 Pliny the Elder: and geographical/climatic determinism, 79; on Roman temple to Ceres, 216; on Sp. Cassius Vecellinus, 190 Plutarch (Greek biographer): on Alexander the Great, 81; on Cato the Elder, 58, 180, 182, 185, 206; on C. Laelius, 179; on Cleopatra VII, 45; on Greek demagogues during Antiochene War (190s b.c.e.), 219; on P and Scipio Aemilianus, 225; on Philopoemen, 127, 223; and Roman cul-

297

tural practices, 236; on Scipio Aemilianus, 179 Polybius (Greek historian) ———. life: activities in Roman resettlement of Greece after 146 b.c.e., 8, 228, 239; aristocratic background, 15–16, 221; cavalry commander (Achaean second-incommand), 16; death from injuries sustained in fall from horse (age 82), 18; groomed for generalship (Achaean high office), 16; hunting expeditions with Demetrius and Scipio Aemilianus, 17n11, 159; journeys through Africa, Spain, and Gaul (150s b.c.e.), 17; opposition in Achaean Confederation, 8, 220–32; oratorical performances in Achaean political assemblies, 221–23, 230–31; political arrest at Rome, 2, 231; political career (general), 3, 15–18, 218, 220–32, 235–39; possible presence at Roman siege of Numantia (133 b.c.e.), 18; selected as Achaean envoy to Alexandria (181/180 b.c.e.), 16; travels, 11, 18; with Scipio Aemilianus at siege of Carthage, 18 ———. historical and historiographical conceptions: apodeictic method, 137; benefits and purposes of history, 1, 84; causal determinants for collective societal characteristics, 5–6, 67–68, 75–84, 98, 168, 236–37; circumference of New Carthage (Spain), 11; “clouds from the west” metaphor, 55–56, 194; comparative method, 137; comparison of Rome and other empires, 2; conception of barbarians, 70–75, 83, 89, 168, 175, 192–93, 202, 232–33, 235–38, 241–53, 255–56, 258–59; conception of known inhabited world, 1–2, 47, 101; criteria for assessing empires, 2; force of individuals in history, 103–5, 135–37; Fortune or Tyche, 2, 95, 105 and n13; Gallic attack on Delphi (279 b.c.e.), 117; geographical/climatic determinism, 78–80; Greek resistance against Persia, 117; historical causation, 3–7, 67–70, 75–84, 89–90, 98–100, 103–5, 117–18, 120–21, 134–36, 139–41, 161–64, 168, 186, 199, 201–3, 237, 242, 255; historiographical conceptions (general), 24–29; inconsistencies in thought, 69, 145–46; indirect historiography, 2, 24–29, 100, 163, 168, 173–74, 200–203, 233,

298

general index

Polybius (Greek historian) (continued) 237–39; intended audiences, 4 and n5, 7 and n9, 96–98; interconnection of world events, 101–2 and n4; “mixed” constitution, 6, 68, 91, 96–97, 99, 186, 242; nature (phusis), 77–78, 91, 98; Odysseus as model for emulation, 22, 239; parallelisms, 6–7, 99, 101–3, 137–43, 146–67; plan to extend work, 11, 145, 195, 198; reason (logismos), 6–7, 70–75, 90, 98, 100, 139, 255–59 and passim; references to Carthage as still extant, 10 and n13; refusal to discuss Plato’s ideal state, 84; Roman constitution, 6, 20, 67–99, 121–22, 174–75, 186, 202–3, 242; Roman military system, 67–68, 87, 92–94, 148, 154, 168, 174, 242; Romano-Carthaginian treaties, 199; Sicilian geography, 11; structure of Histories by geographical region, 101–2; “time of troubles,” 145–46; “tragic history,” 165 and n60; “triple alliance” of Sparta, Macedonia, and Aetolia, 132–34; unexpectedness of Rome’s rise to world power, 138; universal history, 2; “wrath of the Barcids,” 103, 120, 140 ———. influence and posthumous reputation: comparison to Thucydides, 23; influence on American political thinkers, 20; influence on Roman uses of Hellenism, 237 ———. political views: Achaean degeneration, 6–7, 144–69, 175, 184–85, 236–37; Achaean origins and development, 11, 101, 104, 122–29, 137–43, 155; Achaean political principle (prohairesis), 122–29, 139, 153, 155–56; allusions to Plato’s Republic, 22, 84; anacyclosis theory, 69, 86–91, 96–97, 100, 174; Athenian and Theban governments, 87, 89; attitudes toward Rome, 3–8, 84–99, 105–22, 137–43, 146–69, 173–203, 215–33, 235–39; demagogic politics and mob rule (ochlocracy), 7–8, 89, 99, 167, 185–93, 202, 204, 220–26, 232–33, 237–38, 241–44, 259; democratic element at Carthage, 87, 117–21, 186; education and social institutions (Arcadia), 80, 82, 175; political stances and theories, 6–7, 28–29, 69–70, 80–100, 139, 143, 163, 168, 174, 185–93, 195–203, 215–33, 236–37, 242;

prognosis for Rome’s future, 68, 144–45; Roman degeneration, 6–7, 68, 90–99, 144–69, 174–85, 198–203, 237–38; Roman destruction of Carthage (146 b.c.e.), 7, 163–66, 195–97; Roman sacking of cities, 57, 148; Roman seizure of Sardinia (237 b.c.e.), 119–20, 242 ———. texts and textual transmission: biography of Philopoemen, 20, 223; first printed edition of Greek text (1530), 21; fragmentary state of text, 9, 144–46, 160; insertions in text, 10–12; literary style, 21–23, 165; monograph on Numantine War (133 b.c.e.), 20; source for Achaean War, 226; time of composition, 9–12; work on geography, 20, 80; work on military tactics, 20 Polygnotus (Thasian painter): depiction of sack of Troy in Athenian Stoa Poikile, 34 Pompeius Trogus (Roman historian): on Roman sack of Corinth (146 b.c.e.), 227–28 Pomponius, M. (urban praetor 161 b.c.e.): proposes expulsion of Greek philosophers and rhetors from Rome, 60 Popillius Laenas, C. (consul 172, 158 b.c.e.): and “Day of Eleusis,” 50, 53, 157n45; prepared to accuse Polybius, Archon, and Lycortas before Achaean assembly (170/169 b.c.e.), 224; second consulate, 190 Popillius Laenas, M. (consul 173 b.c.e.): censorship, 182, 190 Porcius Cato, M. (consul 195, censor 184 b.c.e.): admiration of “old time” Greeks, 183–84; alleged morality of, 58, 163, 175n2, 180–82, 214n42; ambivalence toward Greek culture, 60–61, 173, 205–9; Carmen de Moribus, 180; castigates tribune M. Caelius, 183; censorship, 181–82; critical of Scipio Africanus, 183–84, 206–7; debate with Nasica over destruction of Carthage, 184n41, 218; defends retention of Oppian law, 61, 181; exploits at Thermopylae (191 b.c.e.), 180; hastens dismissal of Athenian “philosophical” embassy (155 b.c.e.), 60, 197, 217; knowledge of Homer, 205–6; and “mixed” constitutions, 97; and Nearchus of Tarentum, 183, 206; Origines, 180; quaestor under Scipio Africanus, 180, 206; refuses public

general index portraits, 182; on repatriation of Achaean exiles, 17; on Roman and Sabine Greek origins, 184; on Roman degeneration and debilitating effects of Greek luxury, 61–62, 163, 178–84, 202, 208, 237; speech De Vestitu et Vehiculis, 182; war booty taken by in Spanish campaign, 209; writes anti-Greek handbook for son, 62 Porta Capena (Rome), 207n11 Porticus Metelli (Rome), 205 Poseidon (Greek god): and Scipio Africanus, 149n19 Posidonius (Greek philosopher): and geographical/climatic determinism, 79 and n36; and “mixed” constitutions, 97 Postumius Albinus, A. (consul 151 b.c.e.): castigated by Cato the Elder, 205; honored by Delphian decree, 49; representation of in P, 62, 166n62, 184n41, 205, 253 Postumius Megellus, L. (consul 305, 294, 291 b.c.e.): ambassador to Tarentum (282 b.c.e.), 204–5 Prusias II (Bithynian monarch): and Scipio Africanus, 154; frees Hellespontine cities from barbarian threats, 249; P censures, 49, 71, 253, 257–58 Psophis (Peloponnesian town), 256–57 Ptolemaic empire (Egyptian monarchy): ethnicity and culture in, 31, 45; and Rome, 161n51; request for Achaean military assistance (169/168 b.c.e.), 222 Ptolemy Ceraunus (Macedonian monarch): death, 137n147 Ptolemy I Soter (Egyptian monarch): commissions Aegyptiaca, 44; death, 137n147 Ptolemy II Philadelphus (Egyptian monarch): subvention of in Chremonidean War, 42 Ptolemy III Euergetes I (Egyptian monarch): death, 137n147 Ptolemy IV Philopator (Egyptian monarch): in aftermath of victory at Raphia (217 b.c.e.), 258; assassination attempt on, 140; impact on history of in P, 104; negligence of state affairs of in P, 104, 147n10 Ptolemy V Epiphanes (Egyptian monarch): brutalities at Sais, 151; gifts to Achaeans, 153n30; holdings, 154 Ptolemy VII Euergetes II Physcon (Egyptian monarch): and Scipio Aemilianus, 179

299

Pydna, Battle of (168 b.c.e.), 17–18, 53, 60, 145, 159–60, 198, 201, 228, 231 Pyrrhus (Molossian monarch): war against Rome, 105–6, 116, 146, 180 Pythagoras: and “mixed” constitution, 96; Table of Opposites, 35 and n17 Quinctius, K. (son of L. Quinctius Cincinnatus), 176 Quinctius Cincinnatus, L. (consul 460, dictator 458 b.c.e.), 176 and n7, 180, 190 Quinctius Flamininus, L. (consul 192 b.c.e.): and sack of Greek cities (198/197 b.c.e.), 52n76 Quinctius Flamininus, T. (consul 198 b.c.e.): on Achaean purchase of Zacynthus, 128; and Aetolians, 151–52, 156, 258; and assault on Aoi Stena, 52; and Boeotians, 219; effect of career on Roman politics, 213–14; and expedition against Coronea, 82; and harsh treatment of Greek cities, 52; Isthmian Proclamation (196 b.c.e.), 50–52, 54, 154; and Locris conference (198 b.c.e.), 130–31, 151, 153–54; and Philip V at Aous conference, 52; receives surrender of Messene, 128; relations with Aristaenus, 229–30; representation of in P, 157n45; settlement of Thessalian League (194 b.c.e.), 185–86, 215; at Sparta, 124 Quirites (ancient name for Roman people), 175, 177 Ranke, L. von: and objective history, 25–26 Raphia, Battle of (217 b.c.e.), 140, 258 Remus (Roman mythological figure), 176n4 Rhegium (southern Italian town), 105–7 Rhodes (island republic), 40n39; colossal statue to Rome, 49; resistance to Rome (168 b.c.e.), 213n41; and Ti. Sempronius Gracchus, 205–6 Rhomaia (festival): at Delphi, 48–49 Rhone river, 246, 258 Rich, J., 108 Romano-Carthaginian Wars, 63; First Romano-Carthaginian War, 54, 102–3, 105–11, 115–19, 141, 143, 187, 191n66, 199–200, 233, 242, 256, 257; Hannibalic War, 50, 56, 60, 69, 71, 77, 84, 87, 102–3, 117–18, 121, 140, 142, 145, 147, 174, 181, 187, 198–99, 201, 233; Third RomanoCarthaginian War, 18, 163, 196, 198

300

general index

Romans: and Achaean War, 83, 159–60, 166–67, 226–28; as barbarian people, 2, 47–57, 193–202, 226, 233, 235–39, 242, 249, 250; centuriate assembly of, 212; and Decemvirate (ca. 450 b.c.e.), 85; at Delphi, 48–49; democratic forces in political life of, 212–13; and destruction of Carthage and Corinth (146 b.c.e.), 145, 163–67, 196, 198, 215n46, 226–28; electoral bribery (ambitus) among, 213–14; electoral spaces of, 213; and expulsion of Greek intellectuals from Rome, 60–61; first cross Adriatic Sea, 111–13; and Greek gymnasia, 58; and Greek pederasty, 58–60 ; irresolute on Spartan membership in Achaean Confederation, 128–29, 231–32; and mastery of Italy and Sicily, 84; and plundering of Greek art, 51, 148, 227–28; and political resettlement of Greece after 146 b.c.e., 8, 18; and sumptuary laws, 60–61, 214n42; practice human sacrifice, 62, 236; practitioners of horse sacrifice, 199, 202, 252; recruitment crises, 211–12; refuse to ransom prisoners from Hannibal, 87–88; restrict expenditures on games, 213–14; sack cities, 3, 148; secret ballot in elections, 214; subsidize grain shipments to capital, 211; tribal assembly of, 213; urban population of capital, 211–12; use ancestor masks in aristocratic funerals, 57–58, 61; use Greek terms for sexual depravity, 58–61; vagueness on Greek hostage issue, 222n61, 231; “verism” of, 57–58, 61 Romulus and Remus (Roman mythological figures): Chian marble relief statue of, 48 Ross Taylor, L., 217 Rucellai, Bernardo: De Urbe Roma, 20n21 Sacks, K. S.: on historiographical typologies, 24 Saguntum (Iberian city), 118n64, 119 and n67, 120–21, 140, 248, 256 Sahlins, M., 5 Said, E.: Orientalism, 37 Sais (Egyptian city), 151 Salamis, Battle of (480 b.c.e.), 39 Salus, Temple of (Rome), 182 Samnites: wars against Rome, 106, 180 Samnium, 256

Sardinia: Roman seizure of (237 b.c.e.), 108, 119–20, 187, 199, 242 Sardinian Sea, 107 Scarphea (Locrian town), 227 Scerdilaidas (Illyrian dynast), 142 Schleiermacher, F., 9 Scopas (Aetolian statesman), 135, 137, 140, 221 Scott, J. C.: and “hidden transcripts,” 2, 24 Scyron (Messenian statesman), 136 Segesta (Sicilian Greek city): claims descent from Aeneas, 48 Seleucid Empire: and Rome, 161 Seleucus I Nicator (Seleucid monarch): death, 137n147 Seleucus III Soter (Seleucid monarch): death, 137n147 Selgians: characteristics of in P, 29 Sellasia, Battle of (222 b.c.e.), 104n8, 123, 133–34, 141 Sempronius Gracchus, C. (tribune 123, 122 b.c.e.), 177 Sempronius Gracchus, Ti. (consul 215, 213 b.c.e.), 147 Sempronius Gracchus, Ti. (consul 177, 163 b.c.e.), 158, 166n62, 205 Sempronius Gracchus, Ti. (tribune 133 b.c.e.): accused of aiming at tyranny, 214 Sempronius Longus, Ti. (consul 218 b.c.e.), 201, 256 Sergius, M’.: and Roman embassy to East (164 b.c.e.), 161n52 Serippus (Spartan statesman), 129n106 Servilius Ahala, C. (master of the horse 439 b.c.e.), 190 Servius Tullius (Roman monarch), 189n60, 216 Sherwin-White, S., 44 Sibylline Oracles, 50 Sicily, 4n5, 11, 50, 51n70, 54, 84, 102, 107, 109 and n28, 111, 117, 199, 245, 256 Sicyon (Achaean city): and Achaean koinon, 132; and Achaean meeting (198 b.c.e.), 53, 229–30; arbitrates border dispute between Athens and Oropus, 197; defended by Philip V, 228; site of Achaean assembly (169/168 b.c.e.), 222, 230 Sirynx (Hyrcanian stronghold), 72 Skinner, Q., 8–9 Skutsch, O., 191

general index Smyrna (Greek city): cult to Rome, 48, 49n67 Social War (Greece, 220–217 b.c.e.), 55, 102, 123, 126, 132, 134, 136, 140–42 Social War (Italy, 91–88 b.c.e.), 177 Socrates (Greek philosopher), 9; disparaged by Cato, 206 and n6 Solon (Athenian statesman): and “mixed” constitution, 96 and n84 Sosus (Dymaean statesman), 215 Spain (Iberia), 73, 102, 107, 148, 162, 246, 249, 251, 253, 257; “Fiery War” (152/151 b.c.e.), 162, 253 Sparta: and Achaean Confederation, 124, 128–29, 140, 159–60, 197–98, 226; in Cleomenic War, 132–34; comparison with other imperial powers in P, 2, 196; and educational system, 129; and lawgiver Lycurgus, 91–92, 99, 174, 242–43; in Peloponnesian War, 19; Roman legates to before Achaean War, 159–60; and Roman Senate, 129 Speusippus (successor to Plato in the Academy): use of analogy, 35; Letter to Philip, 41 Stephanus of Byzantium (Byzantine grammarian): as source for P’s Book 6, 85 Stoa Poikile, 34 and n13 Stoicism: and democracy, 189n57; and slavery, 77 Strabo (Greek geographer): on AcarnanianRoman relations, 47; on AntigonidRoman relations, 48; on P and Roman destruction of Corinth (146 b.c.e.), 227 Stratius (Pergamene statesman), 160 Sulpicius Galba Maximus, P. (consul 211, 200 b.c.e.): attempts to bring Aetolia into war against Macedonia (200/199 b.c.e.), 53; leniency toward Aegina, 147; and sack of Greek cities, 52 Sulpicius Galus, C. (consul 166 b.c.e.): ambassador to East (164 b.c.e.), 161n52; castigated by P, 166n62 Sulpicius Galus, P.: castigated by Scipio Aemilianus, 59–60, 182 Susa (Seleucid city), 72 Sybaris (Italian Greek city), 146 and n8 Syracuse (Sicilian Greek city), 245, 257; Roman treatment of in Hannibalic War, 50–51, 61, 146–47, 149, 227; Scipio Africanus at, 206 Syria, 28, 53–54, 161

301

Tagai (Parthian stronghold), 72 Tagus, Battle of (221/220 b.c.e.), 246 Tambrax (Hyrcanian stronghold), 251 Tarentum (Italian Greek city): captured by Hannibal, 149, 201; corruption of according to P, 146; Roman legation to (282 b.c.e.), 204–5; Roman spoils from, 51; Roman treatment of in Hannibalic War, 50–51, 227 Tarquinius Priscus, L. (legendary Roman monarch), 85n58 Taurini (Gallic tribe), 248 Taurisci (Gallic tribe), 116, 252–53 Taurus mountain range, 246 Tegea (Arcadian city), 125, 129n109, 131–32, 134 Telamon, Battle of (225 b.c.e.), 62, 73, 116, 141 Teleas (Antiochus III’s envoy), 72n13, 251 Tellus, Temple of (Rome), 190 Tempe (Thessalian defile): conference between Philip V and Flamininus (197 b.c.e.), 154 Terentius Varro, C. (consul 216 b.c.e.): responsible for disaster at Cannae in P, 187–88, 201 Terentius Varro, M. (Roman polymath): on human sacrifice, 62n113; on temple to Ceres, 216 Teuta (Illyrian queen-regent): conference with Roman ambassadors at Issa, 112–13, 142; as illustration of Illyrian collective character in P, 103–4, 112–13, 116n52, 140–42, 243, 256; and P’s misogyny, 112 and n39, 116n52, 256; submits to Roman terms, 113 Thearches (Greek statesman): disgrace to native city Cleitor, 104 Thearidas (P’s brother): diplomatic mission to Rome (159/158 b.c.e.), 16; diplomatic mission to Rome (147/146 b.c.e.), 16, 159; honors to in Epidaurian inscription, 16n4 Thebes (Boeotian city), 45, 130, 132n122, 227 and n74 Themistocles (Athenian statesman): admired by Cato the Elder, 183, 206 Theodotus (Aetolian statesman), 140 Theodotus (Molossian statesman), 152n29

302

general index

Theopompus (Greek historian): on court of Philip II, 249; knowledge of Gallic sack of Rome, 191n66 Theramenes (Athenian statesman): and “mixed” constitution, 96 Thermopylae (main land route between north and central/southern Greece): Antigonus Doson passes through, 133; Battle of (191 b.c.e.), 49, 128, 180; in Persian Wars, 183, 206 and n6 Thermum (Aetolian sanctuary), 126 Thersites (Homeric commoner), 188 Thessalians: characteristics of in P, 28; revolt from Macedonia, 132 Thessaliotis (district in Thessaly), 132, 133n128 Thessaly: civil disturbances in, 218–19; in Cleomenic War, 258 Thracians: characteristics of in P, 243; Greek stereotypes of, 36; menace Byzantium, 248; outrages at Mykalessos (413 b.c.e.), 148n15; and Philip V’s population transfers, 252 Thrasycrates (Rhodian statesman): (probable) speech to Aetolians (207 b.c.e.), 56, 193n74, 195, 201, 236, 243–44, 251, 253 Thrasymachus (Platonic character), 197 Thucydides (Greek historian): absence of Greek/barbarian antipathy in Histories; 34; admired by Cato the Elder, 183; and analogical reasoning, 35; bipolar world of Athens and Sparta in, 34; on greatness of Peloponnesian War, 19; and inwardlydirected historiography, 24; and “mixed” constitution, 96 and n83; as model for historiographical emulation, 19; and Pericles’ Funeral Oration, 81; political exile, 16; work compared to P’s, 21, 25 Timaeus (Sicilian Greek historian), 199, 221, 251–52, 257–58 Timocharis (Cretan sculptor), 45 Tisamenes (son of Orestes), 138 Toynbee, A.: on P as historian, 23 Trasimene, Battle of (217 b.c.e.), 121, 201 and n95, 256 Trebia, Battle of (218 b.c.e.), 121, 201, 256 Trimalchio (character in Petronius’s Satyricon), 59 Tritaea (Achaean city): refuses to pay Achaean federal tax, 126–27

Trojans: in Acarnanian appeal to Rome, 47; in Homeric epics, 32 Troy (Homeric city), 199 Tullius Cicero, M. (Roman orator, consul 63 b.c.e.): anti-democratic attitudes of, 189, 216–18; attitudes toward Greeks, 184; on C. Laelius’s speech De Collegiis, 179; on classical Athens, 217; De Re Publica, 189; on first Latin orators, 205; on Greek democratic politics, 216–18; Pro Flacco, 216–18; relays P’s ideas on Roman education, 199–200; on Roman temple to Ceres, 216; on Scipio Africanus, 207; as source for P’s Book 6, 85n58 Twelve Tables (ancient Roman law code), 175 Tyrrhenian Sea, 107 Utica (north African city), 164 Valerio-Horatian laws (449 b.c.e.), 97n87 Valerius, L. (quaestor 486 b.c.e.), 190 Valerius Flaccus, L. (consul 195 b.c.e.), 181 Valerius Flaccus, L. (praetor 63 b.c.e.), 216–18 Valerius Laevinus, M. (consul 210 b.c.e.): concludes alliance with Aetolians (212/211 b.c.e.), 55–56, 250 Valerius Tappo, L. (tribune 195 b.c.e.), 181 Veii (Etruscan city), 176, 180n22 Velleius Paterculus (Roman historical writer): historiographical strictures (criticism of Homer), 25; on L. Mummius, 228 Verginius Tricostus Rutilus, Pr. (consul 486 b.c.e.), 190 Via Appia (Roman road), 207n11 Via Domitia (Roman road), 11 and n19 Via Egnatia (Roman road), 257 Vitruvius (Roman architect): and geographical/climatic determinism, 79 Walbank, F. W., 10, 138, 144, 163, 196 Weil, R., 10 Williams, C. A., 60 Xanthippus (Athenian statesman): crucifies Persian satrap, 38; father of Pericles, 38 Xanthippus (Spartan mercenary captain), 59n100

general index Xenophon (Greek historian): and inwardlydirected historiography, 25; march through Asia, 246 Xerxes (Persian monarch), 19n18, 37 and n28, 38n33, 42n49, 253 Zacynthus (Greek island), 128n101 Zagrus, Mt., 249 Zama, Battle of (202 b.c.e.), 117n60, 145, 148, 150–51, 157, 198, 252, 257 Zanker, P., 237

303

Zeno (Greek philosopher): invited to court of Macedonian monarch Antigonus Gonatas, 45; Politeia, 189n57 Zeno (Rhodian historian): criticized by P, 151, 242n5 Zenon archive (cache of papyrus documents), 45 Zeus: in Aeschylus’s Persae, 37; sanctuary of at Dium, 140 Zeuxis (Greek painter): at court of Macedonian monarch Archelaus, 45

index locorum

LITER ARY SOURCES 1 Acilius, C. frg. 1 P Aelian, VH 9.12 Aeschylus, Pers. 79–80 185 186–87 255 270–71 337–38 391–92 423 590 652–56 721–26 739–51 744–51 782–86 800–42 852–906 Afranius, L., Tog. 364 Alcimus FGrH 560 F 3 Ammianus Marcellinus 24.2

205n3 60n106 37n25 37 37n24 37 37 37 37 37 37n27 37n28 37n24 37n28 37n24 37n28 37n28 37n28

Androtion FGrH 324 F 54 Antiochus of Syracuse FGrH 555 F 2 Apollonius of Tyana, Ep. 71.1–4 Appian BC 1.28 2.146 Celt. frg. 6 M Hann. 2–3 Ib. 4–5 8–9 11 49 84 85 Illyr. 2 Mac. 7

25n41 32n8

62n112, 218n51 94n77 191n66 118n65 118n65 118n65 118n65 212n33 224n68 179n21 80n41

9 11

52n75, 53n81, 127n96, 229n80 51n74 218n54, 219n56

112 132

224n68, 224n69 159n48

57n91 36n20

36n20

Pun. 18n15

1. Passages marked with an asterisk have been uncertainly attributed to their authors.

305

306

index locorum

Archilochus of Paros frg. 102 W Aristophanes Av. 1244–45 Thesm. 337 365 Aristotle De Gen. et Corr. 336b34–338b19 EN 1095b19–31 Metaph. 984b32–985a10 986a22–986b8 1014b16–17 Ph. 188b26–192b4 Poet. 1449b26–28 1450a32–34 1453a1–7 Pol. 1252b5–9 1253a1–29 1254a30–32 1254b20–24 1255a28–38 1256b20–26 1260a12 1265b26– 1266a30 1285a19–22 1295a25 1295a40–b1 1310b9–16 1312b5–6 1327b23–33 1339a11– 1342b34 Pr. 911a2–4* Rh. 1360a1–5 1394a6–8 1414b30–35 SE 174a40–b7 Schol. Rhet. 1373b H Arrian, Anab. 6.30 7.6 Athenaeus 4.153d

32n5 36n20 36n21 36n21 35n19 189n55 35n17 35n17 77n26 35n18 37n26 37n27 37n26 77n26 81n43 76n24 76n25 77n26 76n24 76n25 96n83 79n38 80n41 80n41 189n56 189n56 79n38 82n47 36n20 35n19 35n19 41n42 35n19 77n28 45n59 45n59 36n20

12.517d–518b 12.547a Augustine, CD 1.31 2.5 4.27 7.34 Aulus Gellius, NA 1.13 2.24 4.18 4.20 6.14 7.8 10.23 11.2 11.14 15.11 Berossus FGrH 680 T 2 Callimachus, Hymn. 2.108–9 Calpurnius Piso, L. frg. 8 P frg. 24 P frg. 37 P frg. 38 P frg. 40 P Cassius Hemina, L. frg. 19 P Cato the Elder Agr. praef. 1 4 Orig. frg. 83 P frg. 88 P Cicero Ad Q. fr. 1.1.16 1.1.27–28 Amic. 41 Arch. 27 Att. 13.30.2 Balb. 55 Brut. 26 77–78 77–81 79

36n20 60n106 218n51 62n112 95n80 60n106 206n5 61n108 207n10 179n21 197n82, 205n1 206n8 175n2 183n37 178n15 60n106 44n57 45n58 178n15 191n65 182n32, 190n64 178n15 178n15 191n66

183n36 180n23 183n35 103n6, 180n25

184n40 184n40 214n44 205n2 23n32 216n49 184n40 207n10 205n2 206n5

index locorum De Or. 1.13 2.249

184n40 206n8

5.12.2 9.22.2 5.50

20n23 178n15 50n70

Fam.

Fin. Flacc.

7 9–12 16–19 24 36 60–66 100 Font. passim Leg. 2.23.59 Off. 3.4.1 3.113.7 Resp. 1.21.34 1.27.43 1.29.45 1.34.53 1.42.65–43.68 1.45.69 2.1.2 2.2.1–12 2.14.27 2.22.39–40 2.27.12 2.35.60 3.6.9 3.12.21 3.28.40 4.3.3 Sen. 3 55 Sest. 126 Tusc. 4.70 5.58 Verr. 2.1.54–55 2.2.158–59 2.2.160–68 2.4.4 2.4.72

217n50, 218 184n40 184n40 217n50 184n40 184n40 184n40 36n20 176n4 207n10 23n32 179n16 189n60 96n85 189n60 189n58 96n85 180n25 92n70 85n58 189n60 23n32 190n64 197n87 197n84 180n23 200n91 205n2, 206n6 180n23 217n50 58n97 58n97 51n72 51n72 51n72 228n75 48n65

2.4.132–33 51n72 2.4.135 228n75 2.5.36–37 58n95 Cincius Alimentus, L. frg. 6 P 191n65 Clement of Alexandria, Protr. 3.42.6–8 S 62n113 Demosthenes 3.17 41n43 3.20 41n43 3.24 41, 41n43 9.30–31 41, 41n43 10.31–34 41 17* 41n44 19.305 41n42 19.308 41n42 22.13 36n21 [Auctor], De Viris Illustribus 3 60n106 Dicaearchus, Tripolitikos frg. 1 W 96n85 frgs. 67–72 W 96n85 Digest 1.8.11 (Pomponius) 176n4 4.2.8.2 (Paulus) 59n102 48.8.1.4 (Marcianus) 59n102 Dio Cassius 37.49 61n110 frg. 42 B 47n64 frg. 55 B 118n65 Dio Chrysostom 37.42 228n75 Diodorus 4.56 37n25 5.26 36n20 5.39 36n20 5.40 36n20 11.37 190n63 15.35 192n71 15.57 130 15.75 130 18.8 42n48 18.10 41n43 18.24 130n112 18.64–67 42n48 19.14 45n59 19.48 45n59 20.14 36n20 23.5 48n65 23.15 105n11

307

308

index locorum

Diodorus (continued) 23.21 25.8 29.33 30.8 31.25 31.26 32.2 32.4 32.26 Diogenes Laertius 5.11 6.2 7.6–9 7.13–15 7.131 9.7–11 Dionysius of Halicarnassus Ant. Rom. 1.11 1.72–73 4.25–26 6.94 7.70–72 7.72 8.69 12.4 Comp. 4 Duris FGrH 76 F 24 FGrH 76 F 27 FGrH 76 F 48 FGrH 76 T 8 Ennius, Ann. 3 Skutsch 150 Skutsch 154–55 Skutsch 156 Skutsch 227–28 Skutsch Ephorus FGrH 70 F 30 Euripides Hec. 492 Iphig. Aul. 1400 Or. 1349–52 1448 1483–85 Tro. 994–96 1074–76

110n33 118n63, 18n65 219n56 215n45 94n77 17n10 165n61, 233n89 165n61, 233n89 227 41n45 38n33 46n62 46n62 97 35n17

184n39 205n3 216n49 216n49 178n12 94n77 190n63 191n65 21n25 165n60 165n60 165n60 165n60 205n2 191n65 177n9 176n4 191n66 78n34 36n20 77n26 36n20 36n20 36n20 36n20 36n20

Fabius Pictor, Q. FGrH 809 F 19b–c 191n66 FGrH 809 T 2 191n66 frg. 20 P 178n14 frg. 27 P 178n13 frg. 28 P 178n14 Festus pg. 178 L 60n106 pp. 326–29 L 205n3 pp. 446–48 L 205n2 Frontinus, Str. 2.6.5 132n124 Geminus 16.12 20n23, 80n39 Georgius Synkellos, Ec. Chron. 72–73 M 44n57 Gnaeus Gellius frg. 27 P 52n107 Hellanicus FGrH 4 F 59–60 37n25 Herodotus Praef. 19n18 1.1 38 1.2 152n28 1.5 38 1.56 46n62 1.142 78n34 2.91 38 2.158 38n32 3.38 38n32 3.80–83 81n45 3.106 78n34 4.17 44n54 4.45 38 4.147 38 5.22 46n62 5.78 38, 81n45 6.53 38 7.20–21 19n18 7.61 37n25 7.104 38 7.150 37n25 8.43 46n62 8.137–39 46n62 8.144 40n37, 77n27 9.120 38n33 9.122 38n33, 78n34 Hesiod Op. 528 32n5 653 32n3

index locorum frg. 9 M–W 32n5 Hippocrates, Airs, Waters, Places* 16 79n37, 81n45 24 79n37 Homer Il. 2.211–78 189n55 2.530 32n4 2.683 32n3 2.684 32n4 2.867 32n4 9.395 32n3 9.447 32n3 9.478 32n3 16.595 32n3 Od. 1.344 32n3 4.726 32n3 4.816 32n3 9.112 80n41 11.496 32n3 15.80 32n3 Hyperides, Epit. cols. 12–13 42n46 Isocrates 4.50 40n37 4.150–55 77n29 4.157 36n21 4.158 77n29 5.16 41n43 5.130 41n43 5.154 41n43 7.14 80n41 9.19 41n43 12.138 80n41 Josephus AJ 12.358–59 23n32 Ap. 2.84 23n32 BJ 1.1 19n19 1.7–9 19n19 Justin, Epit. 28.1.5–2.14 47n64 28.3.14 132n124 30.4.17–18 51n74 34.2.4–5 228n75 Juvenal, Sat. 2.10 59n100 Lactantius, Inst. 1.22 60n106 5.14 197n87

5.16 Livy 2.41 3.11–13 3.26 3.34 5.46 5.51–54 6.18 6.18–20 8.9–11 9.14 10.28 21.2 21.3 21.6 21.9 21.18 21.28 22.1 24.19 24.30 24.35 24.39 25.1 25.31 25.40 26.14–16 26.30 26.33–34 26.46 27.16 27.26 27.31 28.20 28.46 29.8 29.10–11 29.14 29.16–22 29.19 30.26 30.45 31.4 31.8 31.23 31.27 31.28

309

197n84 190n63 176n7 176n7 176n4 178n11 177n9 191–92 191n68 178n11 178n11 178n11 118n65 118n65 118n65 118n65 118n64, 119n67 116n55 119n68 50n70 50n70 50n70 50n70 60n106, 212n30 50n70 51n71, 61n107, 205n4 146n8 50n70 146n8 57n90 50n70, 178n11, 205n4 178n11 228n77 57n90 23n31 51n73 205n4 205n4 51n73 60n103, 206n7 211n28 23n32, 209n16 211n28 108n27 52n75 52n75 53n80

310

index locorum

Livy (continued) 31.29

31.30 31.34 31.45 31.46 31.49 31.50 32.5 32.10 32.15 32.16 32.19 32.19–20 32.19–23 32.21 32.22 32.23 32.24 32.25 32.34 33.10 33.17 33.30–35 33.42 34.1 34.1–8 34.2 34.4 34.23–24 34.31 34.46 34.51 34.52 35.29 35.34 35.37 35.48 35.50 36.20 36.22–24 36.27 36.28

53n80, 56, 106n16, 193, 193n74, 193n75, 195, 201 51n72, 193n75 3, 57n90, 67n1 52n75 52n75 178n14 211n28 229n78 52n77 52n76 52n76 53n81 53n80 229n80 52n76, 53n80, 230n83 52n75, 53n81, 127n96, 229 127n96 53n81, 229n80 53n81, 127n96, 229n80 229n81 23n32 52n76 51n74 211n28 181 61n107 181n27 61n107 52n76, 229n81 188n52, 215n47 209n16 186n44, 215n47, 216n48 52n79 16n3 219n57, 220n58 129 95n80, 229n78 229n78 54n84 54n84 157n42 157n43

36.31 36.31–32 37.46 37.57 37.57–58 38.16 38.24 38.26 38.30 38.32 38.34 38.50–56 38.56 39.3 39.6 39.18 39.22 39.24 39.35 39.36–37 39.37

39.50 39.52 40.8 40.29 40.44 40.52 40.59 41.8 41.24 42.3 42.10 42.11–14 42.12 42.13 42.40 42.43 42.47

42.56 42.63 43.4

128, 128n100 128n101 210n18 210n18 210n20 46n62 11n21 178n11 127n97 16n3, 153n32, 231n85 129n109 206n9 207n10, 207n11 211n26 61n109, 183n33, 205n4 59n102 205n2 151n27 16n3, 129n107 230 56n88, 198n88, 224n66, 228, 229n78, 231n85 16n3, 128n104, 150n25, 223n65 150n25, 207n10 151n27 60n106 214n42 178n11 209n16 211n26 53n80, 223n62, 229n82 54n84 211n26 219n56 219n56 218n54 218n54, 219n56 145n6, 182n31, 196n80 145n6, 182n31, 196n80, 231n86 54n84 54n84 54n84

index locorum 43.12 43.14 44.21 44.22 45.10 45.18 45.29 45.31 45.32 45.34 45.35 45.37 Per.

212n32 211n25 212n32 157n45 213n41 215n47 205n1 17n8, 17n9 215n47 17n8, 54n84 17n8 176n6 15 16 47 48 55

Lucan, BC 7.270–71 Lucian Hist. conscr. 14 53 Macrob. 22.222 J* Lucilius 1235 M Machiavelli, Discorsi 1.2.1–7 2.32.1 Macrobius, Sat. 1.5.16 3.14.6–7 3.14.7–8 3.17.2–6 Martial 12.96.9–10 Melinno Anth. Lyr. Graec. II2, 315–16 Natale Conti, Myth. 9.8 Nepos Cato 3 Epam. 2–3 Ham. 3 Phoc. 3–4 Nicolas of Damascus FGrH 90 F 6 Nonius Marcellus 493 M

47n64 108n24 74n16 62n112, 212n33 212n33 58n97

25n41 19n19, 105n11 18n17 179n18 20n21 136n144 205n1 183n33 60n103, 61n110 61n108 59n101 49n68

80n41 103n6, 180n25 61n110 118n63 42n48 37n25 57n91

Ocellus Lucanus 42 H Orosius 4.21.4 Ovid Am. 1.8.65 Fast. 1.591 4.64 4.247–348 Pausanias 1.15.3–4 4.28.2–3 5.11.6 6.3.12 7.6.5–7 7.8.2 7.9.3–4 7.9.4 7.10.5 7.10.6 7.10.7–11 7.10.11 7.11.2 7.11.5 7.12.2 7.12.5 7.12.8 7.15.5–6 7.15.9–10 7.15.11–16.10 7.16.9 7.16.9–10 7.17.5 8.6.2–3 8.9.2 8.30.8–9 8.37.2 8.43.5 8.44.5 8.48.8 8.51.1 10.3.4 Petrarch, Fam. 24.8 Petronius, Sat. 63.3 Philemon frg. 22 K frg. 95 K

311

97n86 62n112 58n95 58n95 205n3 205n4 34n13 42n47 34n13 106n17 42n47 127n96, 229n80 224n66 129n108 156n41 219n56 17n9 225n72 156n41 197n83 156n41 129n108 156n41 227n74 227n74 227n74 216n48 215n46 52n75 42n47 18n16 18n16, 22n29 18n16 77n27 18n16 18n16 124n87 42n47 20 59n101 77n28 77n28

312

index locorum

Philostratus, VS 1.9.493–94 Phlegon of Tralles FGrH 257 F 36 III Phokylides Sent. frg. 4 D Phylarchus FGrH 81 F 26 FGrH 81 F 28 FGrH 81 F 36 FGrH 81 T 2 Pindar Nem. 7.64 O. 11.19–20 Plato Ap. 22c–d Criti. 111e Ep. 8.353d–e Lg. 644e–61d 668a–c 676b–c 695c–d 712d–e 743d7–44a4 747c–d 756e 765d4–66b1 782a 799a–803a 804c8–d6 835c1–8 960d1–4 966b Mx. 238c1 238c–d Phaedr. 258c1 Protag. 326b Resp. 368d1–69b4 392c–403c 410a–12a 424b–25a 435e 436a 436b5–37a8 445c4–d1 449a1–5

469b–c 522a 544c–d 546a2 555b–62a 562a4–64a9 562c–63e 590c–d 605b2–c4 24c–d

41n43 50n69 80 165n60 165n60 165n60 165n60 40n40 77n29 9 79n35 96n83 82n47 82n47 96n83 37n28 96n83 81n42 79n35 96n83 81n42 96n83 82n47 81n42 81n42 81n42 77n26 81n42 96n83

Ti. Plautus Am. 458–59 Men. 1063 Pliny the Elder, NH 2.189–90 7.112 8.11 13.84–88 14.89 14.89–90 15.19 16.192 17.244 29.14 34.14 34.30 34.34 34.36 35.6–7 35.66 35.135 35.154 Pliny the Younger, Ep. 1.22.6 5.8.12 Plutarch Aem. 6

37n28 82n47 81n43 82n47 82n47 82n47 36n20, 79n35 36n20 35n18 81n42 81n42

Ant. Arat.

28 33 38 27 7–10 16 21–23 18–24 25 25–29

77n26 82n47 96n83 96n83 189n55 189n56 189n58 77n26 81n42 79n35 57n91 57n91 79n36 60n106 103n6, 180n25 60n106 178n13 175n2 58n97 110n32 178n15 62n111 61n109 182n32 205n4 205n4 58n94, 58n95 205n2 205n2 216n49 58n97 23n33

60n105, 205n2, 205n4 205n2 60n104, 205n4 224n68 45 136n144 42n46, 43n50, 130n114 136n144 43n50 126n90 43

index locorum 34 38 40 41 47 Arist. 9 Brut. 4 Cam. 22 Cat. Mai. 2 3 6 8 9 11 12

13 17 18 19 20 22 23 27 Cat. Min. 7 Cleom. 3 10 16 Flam. 10 12 15 Galb. 9 Marc. 19 20 21 Mor. 171c–d 199f 200a*

131n121 41n44, 43n50 125n88 133n130 134 38n33 23 49n68, 205n3 180n23, 183n35, 205n2 184n39 61n107 183n35 17n9, 206n6 185n43 183n37, 184n39, 205n1, 206n6, 219n57 183n35 58n96 181n27 182n30, 182n32, 205n4 58n96, 58n97, 183n38, 206n6 60n106, 183n37 183n35, 183n38, 206n6 206n6, 218n53 179n18 132n122 133n130 41n44, 188n54 51n74 48n66, 51n74, 215n47 219n57 59n98 50n70 51n72 61n10 36n20 225n71 18n15

201b* 274c–d 318d 328e 329b–d 361f–62a 659e–f 826c 1124d Num. 22 Phil. 12 13 16 21

Phoc. 31–38 Pyrrh. 1 18 Rom. 2 Them. 13 Ti. Gracch. 14 21 Polyaenus, Strat. 6.5 Polybius 1.1

1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6

1.7

1.8 1.9 1.10 1.10–11

313

179n21, 224n68 58n97 179n21 44, 81n45 41n43 44n57 225n71 80n41 83n51 60n106 124n86 128n99 124n87 16n3, 16n5, 127, 223n63, 223n64, 223n65, 228n75 42n48 40n40 205n1 205n3 38n33 214n44 205n2 43n50 1, 7, 19n20, 82n46, 83n53, 93, 138 2, 19n20, 138 106n19 2, 19n20 105, 106 105, 105n13, 105n14, 109, 110n34, 138 48n65, 105n12, 106, 106n16, 106n17, 137, 243 106n20 107, 245 107, 107n21, 107n23, 200 139

314

index locorum

Polybius (continued) 1.11

1.12 1.13

1.14 1.14–15 1.16 1.17 1.19 1.20 1.21 1.24 1.26 1.31 1.35 1.37 1.38 1.39 1.40 1.41 1.42 1.43 1.44 1.47 1.48 1.49 1.50 1.52 1.59 1.60 1.62 1.63 1.63–64 1.64

1.65 1.66 1.67 1.70 1.71

105n12, 107, 109, 200n92, 245, 257 138, 138n150 19n20, 75n17, 105n11, 105n14, 118 22n30 138n152 256 102n5, 109, 109n30 102n5 106n19, 109n31, 256 200 105n12 257 200 70n10, 200 110, 187, 199n89 110, 110n32 110 110n33 256 4n5, 11n17 102n5, 136n144 257 199n89 102n5 110n35 110n35 110n33, 201n94 110, 110n34, 116, 141 110, 258 110, 256 19n20, 105n11, 258 106n19 82n46, 83n53, 111, 105n11, 117n59, 138n153, 141 83, 111, 121n74, 245 111 102n5, 142, 244 242, 244 111, 141

1.73 1.74 1.79 1.80 1.81

1.83 1.84 1.88 2.1 2.2 2.4 2.5 2.5–6 2.6 2.7 2.8

2.9 2.10 2.11

2.12 2.15 2.16 2.17 2.18 2.18–22 2.19

2.20 2.21

2.22 2.23 2.26 2.27–31

10n13 28n52 244 83n51 83n51, 89, 89n66, 95n79, 242, 244 119, 257 83n51, 243 111, 243 117n59 112, 138n151, 141, 142 112, 112n39, 141, 256 114 112 26n46, 133n129 26n46, 114, 245 112, 112n38, 112n39, 113n40, 140, 141, 142, 241, 243 113, 131n121, 133n129 136n144 112n37, 113, 113n41, 113n42, 114n43, 243 48n66, 112n37, 113, 113n43 93n74, 115, 246 165n60 115, 115n50, 142n163 191n66 115 95n79, 114n47, 115n51, 141, 142, 243 116 115n50, 115n51, 121, 140, 142, 188n51, 201n95, 243 115n50, 142n163 116n53 258, 259 116n54

index locorum 2.29 2.30 2.31 2.32 2.33

2.34–35 2.35

2.36 2.37

2.37–40 2.38

2.39

2.40

2.41

2.42

2.43

2.44

116n55 243 73n14, 106n19, 116, 141 114n48, 258 116, 116n56, 139, 188n51, 201n95 116 70, 70n10, 71n11, 73, 117, 117n58, 139, 139n157, 232, 236, 243, 243n9, 246, 255, 256, 259 117n59, 120n72 124n82, 126n92, 138n150, 142, 230n83 138n153 84n54, 123, 124n82, 124n83, 127, 185n43, 222n61 75n17, 104, 124n82, 140, 246 104, 124, 124n82, 124n83 86n62, 124n82, 127n94, 137n147, 138, 141n161, 185n43, 215n47 122, 124, 138, 139n156, 141, 185n43, 230n83 95n79, 124, 124n83, 128, 129n109, 132n122, 142, 230n83, 242n4, 243 86n62, 131n121, 132n122, 133n128, 141n161, 185n43

2.45

2.46 2.47

2.47–49 2.48 2.49 2.50 2.50–51 2.51 2.52 2.53 2.55 2.56 2.56–63

2.57 2.58 2.59 2.59–60 2.60 2.61 2.62 2.64 2.67–68 2.69

2.70 2.71 3.1 3.2

3.3 3.4

315

95n79, 132n126, 133n128, 133n134, 138n151, 242n4, 243, 258 95n79, 132n127, 242n4, 243 122n75, 133, 141n161, 188n52, 221 133 122 95n79, 104n8, 130, 243 124n84 141n161 122 104n8, 133, 258 141n161 104 125, 134n135 125n89, 138n152, 165n60 142 26n46, 125, 142, 230n83 241 125 26n46, 125, 257 124, 142 124n83 256, 257 133n134, 154n35 104n8, 123, 133n134, 230n83 129n109, 137n147 137n147 2, 19n20, 102n3 19n20, 83n53, 84, 105n11, 106n19 19n20, 48n66, 242, 243, 246 10, 19n20, 53n82, 145, 146n7, 195, 198

316

index locorum

Polybius (continued) 3.4–5 3.6 3.7 3.8 3.9 3.9–10 3.10 3.11–12 3.13 3.14 3.15 3.16 3.17 3.19

3.20 3.22–30 3.26 3.28 3.30 3.31 3.32 3.33 3.34 3.35 3.36–39 3.37 3.39 3.40 3.42 3.43 3.47–48 3.49 3.50 3.51

3.52 3.53 3.56

11n19 243, 246, 258 243, 258 118 120 119n69 120 120n72 119n67 246 120, 121, 187, 242, 255 113, 113n42, 113n43, 256 119n67, 256 113, 114n44, 114n45, 140, 243 118n64, 118n65, 121, 140 119 107, 107n22, 109n28 119, 187, 199, 233, 242 119n69, 187, 199, 233, 242 21n26 1n1 23n31 119n67 117n60 137n148 246 11n19 114, 243 74n16, 117n61, 246, 258 246–47 165n60 114n48, 247 247 74n16, 115, 117n61, 142n163, 247, 258 114n48, 241, 247, 258 247–48 23n31

3.58 3.59 3.60 3.61 3.63 3.64 3.67 3.67–68 3.69 3.70 3.75 3.78

3.79 3.80 3.81 3.82 3.84 3.85 3.86 3.87 3.89 3.90 3.91 3.92 3.93 3.94 3.95 3.98 3.100 3.102 3.103 3.103–5 3.104 3.105 3.109 3.110 3.111 3.112 3.115 3.116 3.117 3.118 4.1

165n60, 248 18n14 244, 248 258 256 257 114, 115n49, 258 243 117n62 114n48, 201, 256 86, 121 78n31, 114n48, 119n68, 142n163 116n57, 257 188n51, 201n95, 257 258 201n95 121, 188n51, 201n95 121, 139, 256 120n72, 121 121 117n60, 256 121n74, 187n49 256 256 258 187n49 258 71, 78, 248, 258, 259 74n16, 117n61 201n96 201n96 187n49 201n96 201n96, 256 242 201n96 74n16, 117n61 95, 188n50, 201n96 117, 248 121, 188n50, 201n96 117 19n20, 67, 83n53, 122, 139 138, 185n43

index locorum 4.2 4.3

4.4 4.5

4.6

4.7 4.8

4.9 4.10 4.10–12 4.14 4.15

4.16 4.17 4.18 4.19–21 4.20–21 4.21

4.25 4.26 4.27 4.28 4.29 4.30 4.34 4.38 4.45 4.57 4.59

104 95n79, 130, 130n116, 134, 134n138, 134n139, 136, 137, 140, 141, 242n4, 243, 244 136, 242n4 134, 134n137, 134n138, 134n140, 136, 137, 140, 242n4, 243 95n79, 134n137, 134n139, 242n4, 243 134, 135, 141, 242n4 28n52, 78n33, 135, 136n144, 142 123n77, 229n78 256 136 123n78, 136 123n77, 123n78, 123n79, 134n139, 140, 141n161, 142, 242n4, 243 242n4 186n46 242n4 186n46 175 29n53, 80n40, 82, 82n47, 83n51, 244 135 123n79, 134, 140, 242n4 242n4 102 143, 242n4, 248 28 243 248 248 142 215n47

4.60 4.62 4.66 4.67 4.71 4.73–74 4.81 5.1 5.11 5.12 5.21 5.30 5.31 5.33 5.34 5.39 5.41 5.44 5.52 5.55 5.64 5.73 5.75 5.79–86 5.81 5.86 5.87 5.90 5.91 5.93

5.94 5.100 5.104

5.105 5.106 5.107 5.111 6.2

6.3 6.3–9 6.3–10

317

104, 127n94 140n159, 243 114n44 140n159 257, 258 175 188n53, 221 78n31, 123n80, 258 126, 243 114n45, 135 137n148 102n4, 104 102n3 19n20, 92n71, 242n5, 249 104 78n31 78 28n52, 249 258 249 71n11 29n53 82, 86n59 86n59 140 28 258 28, 67n2, 91n69, 255, 259 104 123n81, 140n158, 141n161 127n94, 132n122 132n122 55, 102n4, 193n74, 194, 249 47 75n17 243 243, 249 19n20, 82n46, 83n53, 85, 86, 121 69n6, 91 97 137n146

318

index locorum

Polybius (continued) 6.4

6.5 6.5–9 6.6

6.7

6.8 6.9

6.10

6.11a 6.11

6.11–18 6.12 6.13 6.14 6.16 6.18 6.19 6.19–42 6.20 6.25 6.26 6.27–41 6.31 6.32 6.34–37 6.37 6.38

69n6, 89, 91n67, 91n68, 241, 242, 243 82, 88, 91n67, 96 88n63 78n32, 89, 91, 91n67, 257, 258, 259 78n32, 88, 91n67, 181n27, 257, 259 88, 100, 181n27, 241, 242 69n6, 89, 90, 91n67, 91n68, 95n79, 97, 98, 145, 146n9, 167, 174, 186, 186n46, 192n72, 241, 244 68n3, 69n6, 86, 91, 91n67, 92n70, 139n156, 174, 244, 258 85n58, 175n2, 178n13 4n5, 68n3, 86, 87, 96, 121, 145, 174, 198 86, 137n146 87, 93n72 87 87, 108 186 69n6, 83n53, 97, 242 93n72 67n1, 87, 92 93n72 93n72 93 92 93n73 93n73 93 58n97, 93, 109n30, 242 93

6.39 6.40 6.41 6.42 6.43–56 6.44 6.45–47 6.46 6.47

6.48 6.48–50 6.49 6.50 6.51

6.51–56 6.52 6.53

6.53–54 6.54 6.54–55 6.56

6.57

6.58 7.1 7.2–8

93, 93n74, 96 93 93n73, 258 94 87 89, 118, 192n72, 243 83n51 83n49, 91n67, 243 75n17, 83, 84, 95n79, 105, 118, 163n56, 241, 243 91n67, 243 87 243 106n19, 174 69, 69n6, 87, 91, 91n67, 97, 118, 118n63, 145, 174, 186, 198 87 10n13, 78, 82, 141 57n91, 58n95, 94, 94n76, 94n77, 176n5 75n17, 85, 92 91n67, 91n68 94 10n13, 89, 92, 95, 95n80, 95n81, 118, 121, 141, 142n162, 149n19, 175, 186, 192n72, 242, 243, 259 69n6, 87, 90, 91n67, 95n79, 97, 118, 145, 163, 174, 184n41, 185n42, 198, 241, 242, 243, 259 92n71, 256 146n8 147n10

index locorum 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.9 7.10–14 7.11 7.14 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.8 8.9 8.16 8.19 8.22 8.24 8.24–34 8.27 8.30 8.35 8.37 9.1 9.3 9.4 9.7 9.8 9.9 9.10 9.11 9.13 9.17–19 9.20 9.22 9.22–26 9.23 9.24 9.28–39 9.30 9.32–39 9.34 9.35 9.36 9.37 9.38 9.39 9.42 10.1

147 78n31 147 23n31 147n10 249 258 117n60, 147 19n20, 82n46, 83n53 257 147n10, 256 249 5, 78n30 249 78n31 146n9 201n97 149n17 149n17 147n11 147n10 19n19 147 258 258 148, 258 10n13, 148 51n72, 61n107, 148 28, 148n13, 243 149n22 147n10 20n23 104n7 117n62, 148 104 78n31, 249 194n78 249, 258 193n74 242, 250 242, 242n4, 243, 250 133n134 55, 56, 194, 250 56, 243, 250 56, 242n4, 250 52n75, 147, 228n77 250

10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5 10.6 10.7 10.8 10.9 10.9–10 10.11 10.14 10.15 10.15–16 10.16 10.16–17 10.18 10.19 10.20 10.21 10.21–24 10.25 10.26 10.27 10.28 10.29 10.30 10.31 10.32 10.33 10.34 10.36 10.37 10.38 10.40 10.41 10.48 11.1–2 11.4–6 11.5 11.7 11.8–10 11.10 11.12

319

149, 149n22, 186, 256–57 149n22 257 149n22, 256 148n13, 149n22, 242 148n13, 149n22, 258 258 149n22 11n17 11n17, 22n28, 149n19 149n19 148n15 3, 57n90 242 67n1, 148n15 149 149 149n21 20n23, 223n62, 258 150 149, 187n48, 243 78n31, 147n10 71, 71n12, 250 71 71–72, 250, 258 72, 250–51 72, 251 28, 149n16 117n62, 149n16 258, 259 148 242, 242n3, 251, 257 242 149n23 228 251 148n12 56, 56n87, 193n74 52n75, 56n88, 242, 244, 251 147n10 150 150, 223 195n79

320

index locorum

Polybius (continued) 11.13 11.14 11.16 11.17 11.18 11.19 11.20–23 11.23 11.25–30 11.29 11.31 11.31–33 11.32 11.34 12.4a 12.4b 12.4b–4c 12.5 12.6a 12.12 12.14 12.25a 12.25g 12.25k 12.27 12.28 13.1–2 13.3

13.4 13.5 13.6–8 14.1a 14.1 14.5 14.6 14.8 14.10 15.1–2 15.4 15.5–6 15.5–14 15.8 15.10 15.13 15.14 15.15

185n43 140n158, 150n24 258 258 116n54 117n62, 120n73 150, 150n24 257 148 89n65 150 74n15, 243 73, 251 46n62, 72n13, 251 258 251–52 199n90, 202, 238 18n13 258 22n30 257 195n79 22n28 26, 221 22n29, 239 22n28, 22n29 221 145, 149, 156, 163n56, 165n61, 174, 174n1, 182n31 221 22n30 188n52, 221 78n32 28 150 148 242 10n13 148n14 148n14, 174, 258 150 198 150 257 148, 252 117n60 117n60

15.15–16 15.17 15.21

15.25 15.30 15.33 15.35 15.37 16.1 16.2 16.10 16.12 16.13 16.14–20 16.17 16.20 16.21 16.22a 16.23 16.24 16.27 16.28 16.34 16.36–37 18.1 18.3 18.4 18.5 18.6 18.11 18.13–14 18.13–15 18.15 18.17 18.18 18.22 18.26 18.28 18.28–32 18.34

18.35

117n62, 148 148n14, 242n3 82, 82n48, 186n47, 221, 241n2, 243 147n10, 257 10n13 28, 147n10 147n10 147n10 152n29 256 152n29, 257 95n80, 186, 192n72 152n29 151n26 22n30 242n5 78n31 29n53 155n39 152n29 153n34 70n10, 78n32, 257 153n34 153n33 154 151 130 130n116 229n81 52n78 53n80 231n87 100n1 152n29 154 135n141, 195, 201, 252 154n35 117n60 154 95n81, 145, 152, 156, 165n61, 242, 258 17n10, 156, 158, 163n56, 174, 174n1,

index locorum

18.36 18.37 18.42 18.43 18.44–48 18.45 18.46 18.47 18.48 18.50 20.4–5 20.6 20.7 20.8 20.9–10 20.10 20.12 21.2 21.4–5 21.7 21.8 21.9 21.10 21.11 21.13 21.15 21.17 21.30 21.32c 21.34 21.38 21.39 21.41 22.3 22.5 22.7–8 22.8 22.10 22.11 22.12 22.13–14 22.16–17 22.18 22.21–22 23.4

183n33, 200n93 11n17, 52n78 154, 243 229n78 157n45, 220n58 51n74 52, 154n37 154n36 154 152, 155n39 257 130n114, 152 186n47 82n48, 152n29 152n29 157n42 157n43, 157n44, 244 22n30, 153n33, 155n39 157n42 157n42 78n31 157n42 153n33 155n39 154n38, 258 149n19 155n39 155n39 157n45 78, 153n33 152n29 11n21, 157n45 243 48n66, 155n39, 242, 243, 252 16n3 48n65 153n30 185n43, 228n77 128n103, 231 129n107 153n32, 231n85 152n29 151 151n27 78n31 129n106, 153n32,

23.5

23.7 23.8 23.10 23.11 23.12 23.12–14 23.13 23.14 23.15 23.16 23.17 23.18 24.2 24.3 24.6 24.7 24.8–9 24.8–10 24.9 24.10 24.11 24.11–13 24.13 25.2 25.3

25.6 26.1a 26.1 27.1–2 27.8 27.9 27.10 27.15 27.16–17 28.3 28.4

321

229n78, 231n85 128n104, 136n143, 152n29 78n31 152n29, 155, 252 83n52, 152n29, 252 151n27 153n33, 185n43, 188, 223 150n25 78n31, 117n62, 252 207n9, 256 126 128n104, 223n65 128n104, 151, 153n33, 157 153n33 128n104, 153n33 152n28 16n5, 153n30 186n47, 188n53, 221 226 145, 156n41, 198 128n104 156 155 155n40, 194n76, 230 56n88, 157, 231 23n31 151, 157n44, 188n53, 219n55, 219n56 151 152n29, 188n53 152n29, 188n53 145n6 155 78n32 78n32, 188n53 78n31, 152n29 152n29 17n7, 224 220n58

322

index locorum

Polybius (continued) 28.6 28.6–7 28.7 28.12 28.13 28.14 28.17 29.1 29.4 29.7 29.7–9 29.9 29.13 29.15 29.20 29.21 29.22 29.23 29.23–25 29.24 29.25 29.27 30.1–3 30.7 30.8 30.11 30.13 30.15 30.18 30.19 30.22 30.32

31.1 31.2 31.4 31.6 31.9 31.10–11 31.11–15 31.12 31.13 31.14 31.21 31.22

16n5, 17n7, 230n84 222, 223n62 230 224 17n7, 157n45, 230 152n28 157n45 157n45 157n45 258 152n29 258 152n29 257 155n39 256 78n32 222, 222n61 17n7 222 231 53n82, 157n45 161n50 17n8, 229n79 257 243, 257 17n9, 225n72 54n84 49 161n50 205n2, 210n18 17n9, 222n61, 225n72, 231n88 161n52, 166n62 54n83, 161n51 49 50n69, 78n32, 166n62 252 161n51 11n21, 161n51 10n13, 11n21, 78n31 228 17n11 161n53 4n5, 158n46, 233n89

31.22–30 31.23 31.24 31.25

31.25–30 31.26 31.26–27 31.27 31.28 31.29 31.29–30 32.1 32.2 32.2–3 32.3 32.4 32.5 32.5–6 32.7 32.9 32.13 32.15 33.1 33.2 33.3 33.5 33.8 33.10 33.14 33.16 33.18 33.20 34.1 34.4 34.9 34.10 34.12 34.14 35.1–4 35.2 35.5 35.6 36.1

11n17 17n9, 17n10 60n105, 205n4 58n97, 94n78, 162, 163, 178n15, 181n26, 183n33, 224n67 179n19 112n39, 163 158n47 163 159, 224n67 17n11, 163n56, 188, 224n67 159 161n50 78n31 54n83 17n9, 161n52 104n9 17n8, 241n2 221 16n4 162n54 162n54, 242 257 17n9, 231n88 197n82 17n9, 222n61, 231n88 257 252 74n16, 75, 78, 242, 252 17n9 83n51 108n26, 162 187n48 80n39 22n30 80n40 252 257 28 162n55 71, 242, 253 253 205n2, 206n6 223

index locorum 36.2–3 36.5 36.7 36.9 36.9–10 36.11–12 36.12 36.13 36.14 36.15 36.17 38.1 38.2 38.3–4 38.4 38.8 38.9 38.10 38.10–11 38.10–13 38.11 38.11–13 38.12 38.12–13 38.13 38.15–16 38.16 38.17 38.17–18 38.18 38.19a 38.19 38.20 38.21 38.22 39.1

39.2 39.2–3 39.3 39.3–4 39.5

164 164n59, 165 165n60 145, 165n61, 196n80 7, 165, 196, 198 10n12 27n47 78n32, 223n62 166n62 71, 253, 258 166, 242n5 164n59, 166 253 166, 166n63 238 78n31, 166 159n49, 166, 216n48 16n4, 166, 187n48, 256 160 166 220 187n48 220 160, 166 244 167, 188n53 166n63, 194, 227n74, 257 188n53, 242n6 167 83, 167, 244, 253 18n15 18n15 97n86 97n86, 159n48 97n86, 159n48, 205n2 62n111, 166n62, 181n26, 183n37, 184n41, 205n3, 227n74, 253 228n75 51n72 223n63, 223n64 18n16 18n13

39.5–6 39.8 frg. 6 B–W frg. 119 B–W frg. 168 B–W frg. 223 B–W Pompeius Trogus, Prol. 28 S Postumius Albinus, A. FGrH 812 F 1b Quintilian, Inst. 11.2 12.1 Sallust, Iug. 4.5–6 Seneca the Younger Dial. 4.32.2 11.14.3 Ep. 86.1 87.9 123.15 Servius, ad Aen. 4.682 7.612 Servius Auctus, ad Aen. 8.638 Silius Italicus, Pun. 1.675–94 2.276–377 5.132–34 Strabo 1.2.28 (C 34) 3.2.15 (C 151) 3.3.8 (C 156) 3.4.13 (C 163) 5.3.3 (C 230) 5.3.5 (C 232) 5.4.4 (C 243) 8.6.23 (C 381) 10.2.25 (C 462) 10.3.2 (C 463) 12.7.3 (C 571) 14.2.27–28 (C 661–63) Suetonius Aug. 69 Galb. 22 Iul. 41 49

323

18n16 18n16, 19n20, 82n46, 83n53 243n9, 253 253 253 257 132n124 183n37, 205n3 206n5 197n87 58n95

58n96 58n95 207n11 182n30 58n97 97n87 178n11 184n39 118n65 118n65 116n54 78n34 80n40 79n36 79n36 205n3 47n64 207n11 228n75 47n64 130n112 29n53 32n4 59n98 59n98 211n24 59n98

324

index locorum

Suetonius (continued) 84 Ner. 29 Rhet. 1.2 Vesp. 19 Tacitus, Ann. 2.73 3.76 4.56 11.2 14.20 Tertullian, ad Nat. 1.16.15 B Thrasymachus DK6 85 B 2 Thucydides 1.1 1.3 1.21 1.22 1.23 1.124 1.130 2.36 2.66 2.99 5.9 5.89 6.77 7.5 7.29 8.97 Timaeus FGrH 566 F 69

94n77 59n98 60n106 94n77 58n95 58n95 49n67 59n98 58n97 58n97 41n43 19n19 32n4, 77n27 105n11 19n19, 35n19 19n19, 105n11 34n15 38n29 81n45 128n101 46n62 34n15 31 34n15 34n15 148n15 96n83

Valerius Maximus 1.1 2.1 2.4 2.7 4.8 6.3 6.65 8.7 8.7 ext. 7 9.1 Varro, Ling. 5.11 Velleius Paterculus 1.7 1.11 1.13 1.15 Vitruvius, De Arch. 3.2.4–6 6.1.9–11 6.3.4 Xenophon, Hell. 1.1 Zonaras 8.6 8.8 8.9 8.20 8.21–22 8.24 9.16 9.31

54n84, 60n106 58n97 62n112 106n16, 107n22 51n74 175n2 47n64 206n5 50n70 61n109 35n17 25n41 209n17 228n75 62n112 205n2 79, 79n36 58n95 25n41 106n17 107n21, 107n23 48n65 188n51 118n65 119n68 51n74, 127n96 227n74

80n41

INSCRIPTIONS AND PAPYRI CIL VI 31610 CIL XII 725 IC 2, pg. 64, no. 18 IDelos 1660 IG II2 467.7–8 IG II2 448.40–51 IG II2 505.17 IG II2 506.9–10 IG VII 188 IG IX2 1.169 IG IX2 1.173 IG IX2 1.189 IG IX2 1.192

207n10 186n45 131n118 48n66 41n46 41n46 41n46 41n46 221n59 131n118 131n118 131n119 131n119

IG XIV 986 IGRR 1.61 ILS 20 ILS 31 Moretti IAG 41 OGIS 269 OGIS 275–76 OGIS 280 OGIS 289 OGIS 551 P. Col. Zen. 2.66 P. Yale 46 RDGE 9

186n45 186n45 227n74 186n45 45n61 46n62 46n62 46n62 46n62 186n45 45n61 45n61 215n47

index locorum RDGE 33 RDGE 43 SEG 1.152 SEG 22.214 SEG 23.489 Sibyll. Or. 8.95 SVA III 476 Syll.3 317 Syll.3 398 Syll.3 472 Syll.3 490 Syll.3 495 Syll.3 522

215n47 215n47 49n67 230n83 114n43 50n69 42n49 41n46, 42n48 43 134n137 127n98 44n54 131n118

Syll.3 543 Syll.3 559 Syll.3 588 Syll.3 611 Syll.3 613 A Syll.3 626 Syll.3 636 Syll.3 643 Syll.3 665 Syll.3 674 Syll.3 684

67n1 127 127n95 49n67 186n44 16n4 219n55 219n56 221n59 215n47 215n47, 216n48

325

i n d e x o f p o ly b i a n t e r m i n o l o g y

g, 245, 252 dgriath%, 82, 249 ddikAa (and cognates), 124 and n84, 241 and n2 duesAa, 114 and n48, 243n10, 247 aEresi%, 174n1, 255 aDtAa, 83n50, 85, 105, 119 and n69, 162, 251, 258 gkrito% (and cognates), 113, 243, 253 dlazoneAa, 241, 242 and n5 dlaueia, 22 dlogAa (and cognates), 73, 89, 107, 112n39, 113, 121, 140, 161n51, 165n60, 201n94, 241, 243 and n9, 253 dnaisxyntAa, 162n55 dnakAklvsi%, 69, 70n9, 86 and n62, 88, 90, 96, 97, 100 dndreAa (and cognates), 105, 166 dpath, 165 dpAxueia, 166 dpouhriav (and cognates), 89n66, 241, 244 dpanoia, 74, 252 drxa, 19, 83n50, 105, 124 dsAbeia (and cognates), 165, 196 aDdaueia, 166 aGjhsi% 19, 138n151 dfaAresi%, 199, 233 barbaro% (and cognates), 55, 56, 70, 71, 72, 73, 83, 195, 199, 201, 202, 233, 236, 238, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245–53, 259

barAth%, 157 bAa (and cognates), 89, 121, 192, 199, 246 gennaAv%, 147 gynaikouAmv%, 112n39 deisidaimonAa, 95, 149n19 dhmagvgika%, 243 dpmo%, 87, 185 diauesi%, 151 dikaiosAnh, 88 dalo%, 165, 247 dynasteAa, 2 dysmAneia, 220 dvrodokAv (and cognates), 95 and n79 dvrofago%, 95n79 Guo%, 75n17, 163 and n56, 201, 242, 244, 245 DleyuerAa (and cognates), 129n109, 230n83, 251 Dpibola, 83n50, 246 DpiuymAa, 89 DpAnoia, 71n11, 83n50 Dpityxp, 93 eDxAreia, 183 urasAv% (and cognates), 245, 249, 252 uyma%, 71, 73, 74 and n15, 89, 117, 118, 121, 139, 143, 168, 185, 187, 201, 202, 232, 256, 259

327

328

index of terms

DshgorAa, 89, 123 Dsath%, 127 kaira%, 163, 174, 246, 247, 252 (tb) kalan, 155, 230, 250, 253 kefalaiadh, 106 lampra, 93 logisma% (and cognates), 6, 7, 67n2, 70, 71, 73, 74n15, 90, 91n69, 92, 93, 98, 100, 117, 120, 123, 129, 139, 143, 148, 150, 156, 168, 187, 188, 200, 202, 204, 232, 243, 248, 255–59 lago% (and cognates), 74, 88, 92 and nn70–71, 199, 248, 252 mPso%, 220 namo% (and cognates), 75n17, 123n80, 163 and n56, 201, 242, 244, 245 nao%, 246, 255 oDkoymAnh, 1, 98, 101, 145, 151, 198 cmologAa, 127 and n98 cmanoia, 124 and n83, 126 cmafylo%, 200 drga (and cognates), 89, 121, 185 crma, 71n11, 74, 136, 162, 201n96, 253 dxlokratAa, 185 gxlo%, 188n53, 204, 220, 221, 224, 226 and n73, 241n2, 242n6 paideAa, 82, 83, 89, 199, 245, 253 (oC) palaioA, 175 and n3, 202 paradojologAa (and cognates), 138, 165n60, 247, 252 paralogo%, 74, 246, 247 paranomAa (and cognates), 89, 113, 125, 126, 241, 243, 244n10, 246, 251, 252 paraspondAv (and cognates), 107n22, 114 and n47, 115, 125, 165, 196 parastatika%, 74 and n16 parAkbasi%, 69 parrhsAa, 89, 123

pAsti% (and cognates), 113, 166, 174 and n1, 248, 252 pleonejAa (and cognates), 95 and n79, 114, 115 and n51, 136, 137, 141, 142, 148n13, 241, 242, 243 plpuo%, 89, 186, 201n96, 220, 226, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251 politika%, 83, 245 (oC) polloA, 107, 108, 226 and n73 polypragmonAv, 161n52 prpgma (and cognates), 92 and nn70–71, 196, 247 proaAresi%, 122, 123, 124, 129, 139, 155, 250 prokataskeya, 11, 101 and n2, 104, 137, 138 and n150, 139, 155 pranoia, 140 prafasi%, 164 symploka, 102n4 (tb) symfAron, 155, 230 tAlo%, 83n51 terateAa, 165n60 talmh (and cognates), 245, 247, 249 tAxh, 2, 84, 95, 105 and n13 Ebri%, 241, 242 and n6, 251, 252 CperfanAa, 157 φιλαnurvpAa, 127 φιλarxAa, 148n13 φιλadono%, 184n41 φιλodojAa, 201n96 φιλotimAa, 201n96 fronAmv% (and cognates), 196, 245 fygapono%, 184n41 fAsi%, 68, 77, 78, 82, 91 and nn67–68, 98 xeirokratAa, 86, 89, 186, 192, 232 (tb) xePron, 162 cyxomaxAa, 110 dmath% (and cognates), 125, 251

HELLENISTIC CULTURE AND SOCIETY General Editors: Anthony W. Bulloch, Erich S. Gruen, A. A. Long, and Andrew F. Stewart I. Alexander to Actium: The Historical Evolution of the Hellenistic Age, by Peter Green II. Hellenism in the East: The Interaction of Greek and Non-Greek Civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander, edited by Amélie Kuhrt and Susan Sherwin-White III. The Question of “Eclecticism”: Studies in Later Greek Philosophy, edited by J. M. Dillon and A. A. Long IV. Antigonos the One-Eyed and the Creation of the Hellenistic State, by Richard A. Billows V. A History of Macedonia, by R. Malcolm Errington, translated by Catherine Errington VI. Attic Letter-Cutters of 229 to 86 b.c., by Stephen V. Tracy VII. The Vanished Library: A Wonder of the Ancient World, by Luciano Canfora VIII. Hellenistic Philosophy of Mind, by Julia E. Annas IX. Hellenistic History and Culture, edited by Peter Green X. The Best of the Argonauts: The Redefinition of the Epic Hero in Book One of Apollonius’ Argonautica, by James J. Clauss XI. Faces of Power: Alexander’s Image and Hellenistic Politics, by Andrew Stewart XII. Images and Ideologies: Self-definition in the Hellenistic World, edited by Anthony W. Bulloch, Erich S. Gruen, A. A. Long, and Andrew Stewart XIII. From Samarkhand to Sardis: A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire, by Susan Sherwin-White and Amélie Kuhrt XIV. Regionalism and Change in the Economy of Independent Delos, 314–167 b.c., by Gary Reger XV. Hegemony to Empire: The Development of the Roman Imperium in the East from 148 to 62 b.c., by Robert Kallet-Marx XVI. Moral Vision in The Histories of Polybius, by Arthur M. Eckstein XVII. The Hellenistic Settlements in Europe, the Islands, and Asia Minor, by Getzel M. Cohen XVIII. Interstate Arbitrations in the Greek World, 337–90 b.c., by Sheila L. Ager XIX. Theocritus’s Urban Mimes: Mobility, Gender, and Patronage, by Joan B. Burton

XX. Athenian Democracy in Transition: Attic Letter-Cutters of 340 to 290 b.c., by Stephen V. Tracy XXI. Pseudo-Hecataeus, “On the Jews”: Legitimizing the Jewish Diaspora, by Bezalel Bar-Kochva XXII. Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World, by Kent J. Rigsby XXIII. The Cynics: The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and Its Legacy, edited by R. Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé XXIV. The Politics of Plunder: Aitolians and Their Koinon in the Early Hellenistic Era, 279–217 b.c., by Joseph B. Scholten XXV. The Argonautika, by Apollonios Rhodios, translated, with introduction, commentary, and glossary, by Peter Green XXVI. Hellenistic Constructs: Essays in Culture, History, and Historiography, edited by Paul Cartledge, Peter Garnsey, and Erich S. Gruen XXVII. Josephus’s Interpretation of the Bible, by Louis H. Feldman XXVIII. Poetic Garlands: Hellenistic Epigrams in Context, by Kathryn J. Gutzwiller XXIX. Religion in Hellenistic Athens, by Jon D. Mikalson XXX. Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition, by Erich S. Gruen XXXI. The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties, by Shaye D. Cohen XXXII. Thundering Zeus: The Making of Hellenistic Bactria, by Frank L. Holt XXXIII. Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan (323 b.c.e.–117 c.e.), by John M. G. Barclay XXXIV. From Pergamon to Sperlonga: Sculpture and Context, edited by Nancy T. de Grummond and Brunilde S. Ridgway XXXV. Polyeideia: The Iambi of Callimachus and the Archaic Iambic Tradition, by Benjamin Acosta-Hughes XXXVI. Stoic Studies, by A. A. Long XXXVII. Seeing Double: Intercultural Poetics in Ptolemaic Alexandria, by Susan A. Stephens XXXVIII. Athens and Macedon: Attic Letter-Cutters of 300 to 229 b.c., by Stephen V. Tracy XXXIX. Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus, by Theocritus, translated with an introduction and commentary by Richard Hunter XL. The Making of Fornication: Eros, Ethics, and Political Reform in Greek Philosophy and Early Christianity, by Kathy L. Gaca XLI. Cultural Politics in Polybius’s Histories, by Craige B. Champion

XLII. Cleomedes’ Lectures on Astronomy: A Translation of The Heavens, with an introduction and commentary by Alan C. Bowen and Robert B. Todd XLIII. Historical Fictions and Hellenistic Jewish Identity: Third Maccabees in Its Cultural Context, by Sara Raup Johnson XLIV. Alexander the Great and the Mystery of the Elephant Medallions, by Frank L. Holt XLV. The Horse and Jockey from Artemision: A Bronze Equestrian Monument of the Hellenistic Period, by Seán Hemingway

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