Empire, Hegemony or Anarchy?: Rome and Italy, 201–31 BCE 3515115242, 9783515115247

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Empire, Hegemony or Anarchy? Rome and Italy, 201–31 BCE

Edited by Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp, Sema Karataş and Roman Roth Ancient History Franz Steiner Verlag

Empire, Hegemony or Anarchy? Rome and Italy, 201–31 BCE Edited by Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp, Sema Karataş and Roman Roth

Franz Steiner Verlag

Die Veranstaltung der diesem Band zugrunde liegenden Tagung sowie die Publikation wurden durch die großzügige Unterstützung der Alexander-von-Humboldt-Stiftung ermöglicht.

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. Dieses Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. © Franz Steiner Verlag, Stuttgart 2019 Layout und Herstellung durch den Verlag Satz: DTP + TEXT Eva Burri, Stuttgart Druck: Hubert & Co, Göttingen Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Printed in Germany. ISBN 978-3-515-11524-7 (Print) ISBN 978-3-515-11525-4 (E-Book)

Vorwort der Herausgeber Der vorliegende Band geht aus der gleichnamigen Tagung hervor, die im Dezember 2015 an der Universität zu Köln abgehalten wurde. Die Herausgeber möchten sich bei den folgenden Organisationen und Personen bedanken, ohne die das Kolloquium nicht hätte stattfinden können: Den beteiligten Kolleginnen und Kollegen für ihre Teilnahme sowie für ihre wertvollen Beiträge, der Alexander-von-Humboldt Stiftung, die durch ein großzügiges Forschungsstipendium für Erfahrene Wissenschaftler (Roman Roth) den Großteil der Tagungs- und Druckkosten getragen hat; den Mitarbeiterinnen und Mitarbeitern des Forschungskollegs Morphomata und insbesondere seinem Direktor Dietrich Boschung für die Bereitstellung der Tagungsräume, dem Hause Franz Steiner, seinem Leiter Thomas Schaber sowie unserer Lektorin Katharina Stüdemann; und nicht zuletzt den Mitarbeiterinnen und Mitarbeitern des Lehrstuhls für Alte Geschichte an der Universität zu Köln – insbesondere Eva-Katharina Keblowsky, Sara Tewelde Negassi und Andreas Weinhold –, die entscheidend zur Durchführung der Tagung beigetragen haben. Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp (Universität zu Köln) Sema Karataş (Universität zu Köln) Roman Roth (University of Cape Town)

Contents Roman Roth Introduction Between Imperial Heartland and Post-Conflict Region: Rome and Italy, 201–31 BC

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I. Conceptualising Rome’s Italian Empire John R. Patterson The Roman Conquest of Italy and the Republican City of Rome . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Clifford Ando Hannibal’s Legacy Sovereignty and Territoriality in Republican Rome

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II. Before Roman Italy: Territories and Societies, 201–91 BC Roman Roth The Expansion of the Citizenship and Roman Elite Interests in Regional Italy, c. 200–91 BC A Structural Perspective Marion Bolder-Boos Adorning the City Urbanistic Trends in Republican Central Italy

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Stéphane Bourdin Les ligues italiennes de la soumission à Rome à l’intégration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Saskia T. Roselaar Between Rome and Italy Hegemony, Anarchy and Land in the Late Second Century BC

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III. Integrating the Italian Romans, 91–31 BC Guy Bradley State formation and the Social War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Wolfgang Blösel Die ‚politische‘ Integration der italischen Neubürger in den römischen Legionen vom Bundesgenossenkrieg bis zur Triumviratszeit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 Sema Karataş The Integration of domi nobiles at Rome A Case Study

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Federico Santangelo Municipal Men in the Age of the Civil Wars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Die Herausgeber und Verfasser . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259

Introduction Between Imperial Heartland and Post-Conflict Region: Rome and Italy, 201–31 BC* Roman Roth (Cape Town) 1. Setting the Scene The respective military achievements and fame of the consuls of 168 BC could not have been more contrasting. While L. Aemilius Paullus saw the Third Macedonian War through to its triumphant conclusion, C. Licinius Crassus was not even allowed to take his legions to his Gallic province, owing to a religious flaw which he had incurred whilst summoning his soldiers to the city.1 To be precise, the troops concerned by the augurs’ interdict were the Roman citizen legions. Crassus did in fact march to his province, taking a full contingent of allied troops with him.2 Yet the absence of the legions meant that the consul was denied the materia res gerendi, the means required to accomplish substantive military achievements for the res publica. However effective and large in number Crassus’ Italian troops may have been, his religious transgression – whether trumped up or real – in fact reduced the consul’s imperium to a farce.

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I limit my references to further literature to a minimum here. Where individual chapters in this volume are cited, the reader may refer to them for further references. Livy 45.12.9–12, with Briscoe 2012, 640. Though, admittedly, no precise figures are given. Yet there is no reason to believe that Crassus marched with fewer allied troops than had originally been allocated to him. As elsewhere in Livy, the phrase socii nominis Latini may be taken to refer to both Latins and other allies; cf., for example, Briscoe 1973, 77–78 ad Livy 31.8.7; Briscoe 2008, 216–217 ad Livy 39.3.4–6. At Pydna, for instance, cohorts from Latin colonies and other allies together guarded the Roman camp under the command of the legatus C. Cluvius: Livy 44.40.6–7. In general, the figures given by our sources for troops fielded suggest that the allies often contributed more soldiers than Rome did herself: cf. Ilari 1974, which is not to deny that the Republic stood head and shoulders above any other individual Italian state in military terms; cf. Bispham 2007, 112.

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This passage may be cited for the light it sheds on the extent to which Roman military service did or did not contribute to the integration of allied and citizen forces.3 Yet the text also furnishes us with a suitable starting point for discussing the complex relationship between the Republic and the Italians during the second century BC from a more general perspective. On the one hand, the socii made a vital contribution to Roman expansion across the Mediterranean. The final campaign of the Third Macedonian War, in fact, provides us with an impressive case in point here. Allied contingents feature prominently in Livy’s account of the battle of Pydna.4 In addition, the Italians may have accounted for the majority of reinforcements sent to the East, following the dilectus which Crassus had overseen for the benefit of his colleague at the beginning of the year.5 As exemplified by the iconography of elite houses in Fregellae, Rome’s allies furthermore drew a sense of achievement and pride in their contributions to the conquests made in the Eastern Wars.6 In addition, the Italians derived significant material advantages from imperial expansion, as illustrated, for instance, by the monumental building projects in their cities, or the prominent roles which the Italici played in the economic life of the Mediterranean as a whole.7 At the same time, however, the position of the socii vis-à-vis Rome was distinctly inferior, their participation in decision-making being passive, at best. The figure of Crassus, marooned in Gaul in the company of allied contingents and thus deprived of any initiative, suitably conveys this passive and, at times, marginal place which the other Italians held in the order of Rome’s Republican empire, and to which the Roman consul had himself been relegated in this way.8

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For the extent of military integration between Rome and her allies, see Pfeilschifter 2007, with exhaustive references to older literature; for a less pessimistic view of integration in the military sphere, cf. Rosenstein 2012. Livy 44.40.5–7; 41.5; 41.9; 42.8. The Paelignian contingent suffered the heaviest casualties among the troops that fought on the Roman side; for additional examples of allied excellence in the field, cf. Pfeilschifter 2007, 36–37. But cf. Erdkamp’s 2007 – in my view exaggerated – scepticism regarding Livy’s accounts of allied military exploits. Livy 44.21.5–9. For the textual problems that arise in respect of the figures Livy gives for Roman and allied soldiers sent to Macedon, cf. Briscoe 2012, 530. For the levies and, in particular, the intricacies of military assignments during this momentous year, see Linderski 1990. Coarelli 1996, 239–257 proposes that the scenes shown are of Fregellan achievements in the First Syrian War (191–189 BC). Maschek 2018 emphasises the importance of imperial conquest to both Roman and allied mentalities, thus planting the seed for the violence that was later to erupt in the Social and Civil Wars. Economic activity in the Eastern Mediterranean: Müller and Hasenohr 2002; monumental building in Italy outside Rome: Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 73–143, with extensive references. In general, for material benefits that accrued to the allies as a result of Rome’s expansion, see Roselaar’s contribution to this volume. For these discrepancies, see now Roth 2019, 148–153.

Introduction

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2. Themes and Periodisation The example of Crassus casts light on just one among several important facets of the complex relationship between Rome and Italy, which the contributions to this volume set out to investigate for the period between the end of the Hannibalic War and Octavian’s victory at Actium (see my discussion of our chronological framework below). As reflected by the book’s title, our underlying hypothesis is that the attitudes and events which structured those relations correspond to a wide spectrum of definitions that might initially come across as mutually exclusive. Thus, while certain aspects allow us to speak of the Italian peninsula as the centre of a Mediterranean empire even before the advent of the Principate (‘Empire’), others clearly point towards the centrality of Rome and the Romans – and not just the elite – in virtually all decisive contexts within that configuration (‘Hegemony’).9 As a third strand, we furthermore identify a lack of comprehensive structural cohesion that existed beyond the few isolated spheres of interaction in which we may speak of Rome and Italy in the same breath. As a result, the hegemonic construct was also at a considerable risk of implosion (‘Anarchy’).10 This could and did manifest itself in actual conflicts between Rome and her allies – and, as a corollary, among the latter – which in turn shaped the subsequent nature of their relations. In this way, defining the relations between Rome and Italy in all their complexity also means for us to engage in a search for fitting metaphors of historical description, which do not necessarily correspond to conventional categories of power relations.11 Before engaging in more detail with the themes and structure of this volume, I briefly turn to the contribution which we intend to make to the considerable, existing body of scholarship on the history of Italy and Rome during the mid- and late Republic. Following the precedent of several, recent collections that are germane in approach to this one, we bring together a diverse range of historical approaches here that would have been separated in the past by disciplinary boundaries, and specifically by that dividing-line which exists between archaeology and ancient history.12 Our rationale for this is that the questions posed by this volume are not only broad but also pertain 9 10

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See now Gargola 2017, who analyses this centrality in relation to how the Roman elite conceived of Italy and the provinces from a spatial perspective; cf. also Isayev 2017, 320–342; 370–394. The danger of ‘anarchy’ and Rome’s successful aversion of it stands at the centre of Fronda’s 2010 monograph on the South of Italy during the Hannibalic War; cf. also Eckstein 2006. The merits and drawbacks of Fronda’s constructivist realist approach notwithstanding, the term ‘anarchy’ approximately describes the centrifugal tendencies in Rome’s allies, which were brought about by the Republic’s inability effectively to integrate the socii within its socio-political structures. This ultimately happened only under the early Principate. Cf. Ando’s contribution to this volume. To mention but a few salient examples: Roth/Keller 2007 (with an explicit focus on inter-disciplinary exchange); De Ligt/Northwood 2008; Roselaar 2012; Pelgrom/Stek 2014. The volume edited by Jehne/Pfeilschifter 2006 similarly forms an important precedent to the present one, despite the absence of contributions that draw explicitly on material culture as historical evidence.

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to areas of cultural discourse for which the evidence of ancient written and material sources could be described as symbiotic in character. Therefore, those questions deserve to be subjected to the scrutiny of different methodological approaches. In fact, it is in respect of methodology that disciplinary boundaries undeniably exist, which in turn validates further the proliferation of comparative perspectives at this level. At the same time – and all methodological differences notwithstanding – both interpretive archaeology and ancient history have a shared existence by virtue of being historical disciplines.13 As such, both (should) employ the building of historical models:14 this is precisely the point at which the inquiries made by historians and archaeologists of a given period enter a large and decisively important area of intersection. Especially in respect of questions concerning power relations and cultural change in Republican Italy, recent years have seen an increasing convergence of both the historical questions asked and the models created by scholars of both text and material culture. It is already possible to see the benefits this is producing in the form of new insights into several aspects of Republican history that had seemingly been open and shut cases. Thus, for instance, historians and archaeologists together have been finding a way out of the conceptual dead-end of Romanisation, and the complex subject of colonisation under the Republic now appears in a very different light from what was the case only a few years ago.15 Any diverging or even mutually contradicting answers that might emerge from such interdisciplinary building and testing of historical models are salutary: contradictions after all form a sine qua non in any cultural configuration, in the past as now.16 While the time-span addressed in this volume may not strike most readers as a surprising choice, it is salutary to reflect briefly here on possible ways of periodising the relationship between Rome and the rest of Italy. In analogy to the recognition that alternative ways exist chronologically to frame the Republic’s political history, periodisation equally deserves consideration when it comes to other themes in Roman history, too.17 Thus, to place the beginning of our period of investigation at the end of the 13

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Hodder’s 1982 observations to this effect remain pertinent. A degree of resentment against Ancient History unfortunately continues to survive in some corners of Roman Archaeology, and especially among those archaeologists who are interested in the provinces; for a recent example, see Revell 2016, 1–18. Impressionistically at least, this observation does not to the same extent apply to Greek archaeology. As most appositely formulated for the Republican period by Jehne 2006. Roth 2018 and Stek 2018 provide detailed overviews of the scholarly debates on Romanisation and colonisation respectively. Hölkeskamp’s 2017, 9–42 discussion of Theodor Mommsen’s model-building is of interest here: the discrepancy between the historian’s main text and his footnotes – most notably in the Staatsrecht but also elsewhere in his writings – reveal that Mommsen was certainly aware of such contradictions and shortcomings but preferred not to engage with them in the main flow of his argument. Political history: Flower 2010. In respect of the Republican economy – to point to a very different area of Roman history – newly gained insights into ceramic chronologies now suggest that the Hannibalic War may have been much less important as a chronological watershed than was previously assumed to be the case: Olcese 2013; cf. Morel 1996.

Introduction

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Hannibalic War was not a foregone conclusion, and the same holds true of the year 31 BC as our terminus ante quem. Viable alternatives exist at both ends. For instance, there would be valid reasons for starting with the years after the First Punic War: these after all saw significant changes in Rome’s attitudes to Italy, such as the establishment of the last two tribus or the emergence of the provincial system. In a similar vein, one might consider the Social War (91–89 BC) as a logical – and arguably the most obvious – end-point for a volume on Rome and Italy. However, our chronological choice reflects the central concerns of this volume, namely the tensions between Empire, Hegemony and Anarchy as they unfolded within the wider framework of imperial expansion and incisive political changes. While it would be overly simplistic to say that the outcome of the Second Punic War was solely responsible for Rome’s relations with Italy after 201 BC, several factors make it a suitable starting point for our discussions in this volume, to two of which I briefly point here.18 First, there are Rome’s success in dealing with the Capuan revolt and, to a lesser extent, her harsh treatment of the Twelve Colonies. If we give any credence to the core arguments produced by the Capuan leaders in favour of the alliance, we may furthermore observe that by the time of the Hannibalic War, Rome’s allies increasingly felt that they were being treated as subject states, presumably having lost any meaningful initiative in military affairs.19 Conversely, the possibility that other Italian states – and the Campanians in particular – had previously enjoyed some autonomy of action is strongly suggested by their significance in defending the South of Italy against Pyrrhus: as a medium-term consequence of this, the Campanians’ role in bringing about and keeping alive the momentum of the First Punic War should not be underestimated.20 Second, the confiscations of land from Capua and other disloyal allies at least contributed to a new wave of colonisation in Italy and thus, ultimately, to the conflict over land distribution that came to a head in the 130s BC and was not to go away again before end of the Republic.21 Within this wider framework, it was only after 201 that the Roman state arguably began to develop an increasingly differentiated and authoritative approach to categorising the population of Italy and the respective 18 19

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Cf. Bispham 2007, 112: “Roman influence in Italy was (to simplify) a consequence of her entrenched position of power after the expulsion of Hannibal and defeat of Carthage”. Livy 23.6.1–2, tellingly in response to the Roman consul’s humble plea for Campanian help in the preceding chapter (esp. 23.5.7: itaque non iuvetis nos in bello oportet, Campani, sed paene bellum pro nobis suscipiatis ) It is beyond the scope of this introduction to discuss the changing dynamics of the alliance system in any detail. For critical discussion and exhaustive references to earlier scholarship, see Rich 2008; Kent 2012. Bleckmann 1999; 2002; Kent 2012a; 2012b. If 225 BC was in fact the first time that Rome was able systematically to recruit troops from her allies (cf. Polyb. 2.23–24), this would have been another decisive point in Rome’s changing relationship with other Italian states, although Carlà-Uhink 2017, 212–217 might be going too far by claiming that it was a key moment in the creation of an Italian identity. See also Roselaar’s contribution to this volume.

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statuses of their settlement, no matter how much this might ultimately have been a long-term result of the original settlement of 338 BC.22 In respect of the lower end of our chronological framework (31 BC), our main consideration is as follows. The Augustan Principate ushered in a re-structuration of Italy, cementing its place as the imperial heartland populated by Roman citizens. Most notably, the municipal reform reached its conclusion only then, thereby imposing a new order onto a political landscape that had emerged in the wake of the Social War. Thus, the time that elapsed between the Social War and the rise of the Principate was a period of transition. Over its course, many of the tensions and incongruities of the second century were still present. Largely owing to the works of Cicero we can furthermore observe for this period a rapidly increasing degree of formalisation and politicisation in the relations Rome maintained with other Italian communities, both in continuity with the more gradual developments of the preceding century and by means of incisive institutional innovations.23 At the same time, the political map of Italy under the early Principate also echoed what was perceived or, rather, reconstructed to have been the order of Italy pre-91 BC. This is seen not only in the nomenclature emplozed by our sources – a pertinent example being the respective definitions of municipia and coloniae in Hadrian’s speech on the subject – but also in the manner in which Italian communities celebrated the statuses they had enjoyed vis-à-vis Rome during the period before the Social War.24 In a comparable fashion, Augustus was responsible for creating the eleven regiones of Italy.25 While their institutional significance escapes us, it appears to have been minimal or non-existent in terms of political administration. Rather, the Augustan regiones may have re-constructed (and mis-construed) certain sub-divisions of the Apennine peninsula that may have had historical roots in the structure of Italy before the Social War, yet in a way that is now beyond our grasp.26 Finally, the chronological range covered by this volume also permits us to think about a fourth possible way of framing the relations between Rome and Italy, namely

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Cf. the contributions by Ando and Roth to this volume. For this intervening period: Bispham 2007, with extensive references. The contributions by Blösel, Karataş and Santangelo illuminate different aspects of the changes in Romano-Italian relations during the first century BC. Hadrian’s speech: Gell. NA 16.13. Although it is a document of the High Empire, the speech also reflects on the situation under the early Principate. On his return from exile on 5 August 57 BC, Cicero arrived at a Brundisium in full flow of its birthday celebrations – as the colony founded in 244 BC (Cic. Att 4.1.4). However, the city had been a municipium since the Social War (Cic. Planc 97), and colonial status was re-assigned only under Augustus (cf. Bispham 2007, 464). This example suitably demonstrates the hold which the perceived or real historical status of Italian communities had over their cultural memory after the Social War. Plin. HN 3.6. For possible suggestions: Crawford 2002; de Cazanove 2008. For possible ways in which the Augustan order of Italy might have been foreshadowed by second-century precedents, see now Carlà Uhink 2017, 267–276.

Introduction

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as what would be described as a post-conflict region in recent historical and contemporary contexts. Although this point should not unduly be pushed, previous conflicts involving Rome and other Italian states had a significant impact on subsequent developments. This is perhaps most obvious in the aftermath of the Social War which, rather than at its end, we include as a point along our chronological spectrum. The inclusion of Rome’s erstwhile allies and enemies as citizens created significant challenges at a practical level. While being careful not to blur the lines between the Social War and subsequent civil conflicts, moreover, we may see that some of the fault-lines exposed by the latter undeniably had their origin in the long-standing tensions between centre and periphery, which had found their culmination in the Social War. At the upper end of our chronological spectrum, we have already pointed to a potential post-conflict effect in the case of the land which the Roman state had confiscated from the rebellious allies after the Hannibalic War. Similarly, the case of the Capuans springs to mind as exemplifying a group whose civic status was severely compromised for at least another generation – though probably more – after the city’s revolt against Rome, which thus served as a constant reminder of Campanian guilt in the collective memory of both communities.27 More obscure though no less striking is the situation of Bruttium and the Bruttians, which arguably offers the best example of post-conflict dynamics that resulted from the Second Punic War in certain regions of Italy.28 Not only had Hannibal’s Bruttian allies lost large parts of their territory to the Roman state; the region in the deep south of the peninsula moreover failed to settle down into peace for several years after the war had come to an end. Armed unrest was rife, prompting the Roman Senate to assign Bruttium as a praetorian province on more than one occasion in the early years of the second century BC.29 For at least part of the century, moreover, the Bruttians were not required to provide soldiers to serve in Rome’s armed forces: they were thus deprived of sharing in the benefits which the Republic’s imperial expansion held in store for the Italian Socii. Instead, Bruttian men – possibly our sources refer to members of the elite here – had to serve as apparitores of Roman magistrates on provincial duty.30 Known as Bruttiani, they thus became henchmen condemned to do the dirty work of an empire of which they were themselves the victims.31

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Livy 38.28.4, 36.5–7, with Briscoe 2008, 104, 123–124–189/8 BC. What precisely was the status of the Campanians remains unclear, yet it is obvious enough that their situation was still negatively affected by the fact that Capua had betrayed Rome nearly thirty years earlier; cf. Roth (in press), with further references. I hope to return to this subject in greater detail in a forthcoming paper. Livy 31.6.2; cf. Briscoe 1973, 70. Gell. NA 10.3.17–19; App. Hann 61. This is vividly shown in a fragment of a speech delivered by the Elder Cato (Gell. NA 10.3.17–18): the Bruttiani are ordered to beat a provincial subject to death.

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3. About this volume The relations between Rome and Italy thus covered a wide spectrum that stretched between two extreme positions: from the ultimately illusionary claim to imperial co-ownership as displayed by the Fregellan elites at one end, to the systematic humiliation experienced by the Bruttians at the other. Put differently, the 170 years covered by this volume represent a period in which the relative positioning of centre and periphery was intensely negotiated and, at times, violently contested. This obviously culminated in the Social War when the most important among Rome’s allies contested the Roman Selbstverständnis as the unrivalled centre of the peninsula. Rome’s resultant attitudes had increasingly determined her behaviour towards other Italian states during the second century BC. These Roman attitudes towards Italy form the subject of the chapters by John R. Patterson and Clifford Ando in the first section of this volume, ‘Conceptualising Rome’s Italian Empire’. While Patterson’s analysis draws on a variety of media to elucidate the physical and symbolic presence of Italy and the Italians within the city of Rome during the period covered by this volume, Ando investigates the changing nature of Roman claims to authority and territorial sovereignty in the Apennine peninsula after the Hannibalic War. The second section, ‘Before Roman Italy: Territories and Societies, 201–91 BC’, focuses on regional aspects of Rome’s relationship with Italy. Roman Roth argues that the unprecedented spread of Roman citizens across the peninsula confronted the Roman state with conceptual and administrative challenges that in some ways foreshadowed the developments after the Social War. In her chapter on the archaeology of urban settlements, Marion Bolder-Boos focuses on typological variabilities in public buildings and urban planning that in part contradict the image of a homogenous, Romano-centric approach to the organisation of Italian towns and their territories. Next, Stéphane Bourdin provides an overview of the political organisation of the Italic leagues in the Apennine regions. He argues that these leagues became more pronounced as Rome’s hegemony strengthened, to the point that they were responsible for the recruitment of allied forces during the second century BC and subsequently formed the basis on which the insurgents organised their resistance to the Roman hegemon in the Social War. To conclude the section, Saskia T. Roselaar reviews some of the potential fault lines in Rome’s approach to dominating Italy. Rather than offering a mono-causal explanation for its ultimate failure, she argues that the increasing asymmetries in several, central aspects of Rome’s relationship with the allies led to the outbreak of the Social War. ‘Integrating the Italian Romans’, this volume’s third and final section, starts with Guy Bradley’s reassessment of who fought on the rebel side in the Social War, and why. He argues that, contrary to the information given by most ancient sources, Rome’s enemies may not have been confined to the central South of the peninsula. Rather, the rebels’ cause might also have enjoyed significant support more widely, although

Introduction

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the reasons for dissatisfaction, as well as the preparedness to stage outright rebellion appear to have varied from region to region. This inter-regional complexity further adds to the Social War as demarcating a near irreversible breakdown in the relations not only between Rome and the rest of Italy but also among the former allies, thus rendering the task of integrating new and old citizens a formidable one. Wolfgang Blösel suggests that one of the principal mechanisms of this integration – at the formal level of managing the enfranchisement of tens of thousands of men – be sought in the very fact that peninsula continued to be riven by war even after the allies’ revolt had failed. He argues that the recruitment of Italians into the late Republican armies functioned as the key mechanism by which the new citizens were enrolled. Finally, the contributions by Sema Karataş and Federico Santangelo focus on the challenges which members of the Italian elites faced in their attempts not only to enter the political institutions of the Roman state but also to be accepted into the public life of the city of Rome. Pivotal in this regard was the gradual reorganisation of the former Italian states along municipal lines, which approached a formal conclusion only towards the end of the period with which this volume is concerned. At this point, the idiosyncratic constellation of empire, hegemony and anarchy finally gave way to other tensions between centre and periphery, while the past of Tota Italia emerged as a repository of cultural references for the new Roman state. Bibliography Bispham 2007 = E. Bispham, From Asculum to Actium. The Municipalization of Italy from the Social War to Augustus, Oxford Bleckmann 1999 = B. Bleckmann, Rom und die Kampaner von Rhegion, in: Chiron 29, 123–146 Bleckmann 2002 = B. Bleckmann, Die römische Nobilität im Ersten Punischen Krieg. Untersuchungen zur aristokratischen Konkurrenz in der Republik, Berlin Coarelli 1996 = F. Coarelli, Revixit Ars. Arte e ideologia a Roma. Dai modelli ellenistici alla tradizione repubblicana, Rome Briscoe 1973 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy. Books 31–33, Oxford Briscoe 2008 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy. Books 38–40, Oxford Briscoe 2012 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy, Books 41–45, Oxford Carlà-Uhink 2017 = F. Carlà-Uhink, The Birth of Italy. The Institutionalization of Italy as a Region, 3rd–1st Century BC, Berlin-Boston Crawford 1998 = M. H. Crawford, How to create a municipium, in: M. Austin / J. Harries / C. Smith (Eds.), Modus Operandi. Essays in Honour of Geoffrey Rickman. (Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Suppl. 71), London, 31–46 Crawford 2002 = M. H. Crawford, Tribus, tessères et regions. Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions & Belles-Lettres 2002.1, 1125–1136 De Cazanove 2005 = O. De Cazanove, Les colonies latines et les frontiers regionals de l’Italie, Mélanges de la Casa de Velásquez 35, 107–124

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De Ligt/Northwood 2008 = L. de Ligt / S. J. Northwood (Eds.), People, Land and Politics: Demographic Developments and the Transformation of Roman Italy, 300 BC-AD 14, LeidenBoston Eckstein 2006 = A. M. Eckstein, Mediterranean Anarchy, Interstate War and the Rise of Rome, Berkeley Erdkamp 2007 = P. Erdkamp, Polybius and Livy on the Allies in the Roman Army, in: L. de Blois / E. Lo Cascio (Eds.), The Impact of the Roman Army, Leiden, 47–74 Flower 2010 = H. I. Flower, Roman Republics, Princeton Fronda 2010 = M. Fronda, Between Rome and Carthage. Southern Italy during the Second Punic War, Cambridge Gargola 2017 = D. J. Gargola, The Shape of the Roman Order. The Republic and its Spaces, Chapel Hill Hodder 1982 = I. Hodder, Theoretical Archaeology: A Reactionary View, in: I. Hodder (Ed.), Symbolic and Structural Archaeology, Cambridge Hölkeskamp 2017 = K.-J. Hölkeskamp, Libera Res Publica. Die politische Kultur des antiken Rom – Positionen und Perspektiven Stuttgart Ilari 1974 = V. Ilari, Gli italici nelle strutture miltari romane, Milan Isayev 2017 = I. Isayev, Migration, Mobility and Place in Ancient Italy, Cambridge Jehne 2006 = M. Jehne, Methods, Models and Historiography, in: N. S. Rosenstein / R. MorsteinMarx (Eds.), A Companion to the Roman Republic, Malden, 3–28 Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.) = M. Jehne / R. Pfeilschifter (Hgg.): Herrschaft ohne Integration? Rom und Italien in republikanischer Zeit, Frankfurt Kent 2012a = P. A. Kent, The Roman Army’s Emergence from Its Italian Origins. Unpublished PhD thesis submitted to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Kent 2012b = P. A. Kent, Reconsidering socii in Roman Armies bevor the Punic Wars, in: Roselaar (Ed.), 71–84 Linderski 1990 = J. Linderski, Roman Officers in the Year of Pydna, American Journal of Philology 111, 53–71 Maschek 2018 = D. Maschek, Die römischen Bürgerkriege. Archäologie und Geschichte einer Krisenzeit, Darmstadt Morel 1989 = J.-P. Morel, The Transformation of Italy. The Evidence of Archaeology, 300–133 BC, in: A. E. Astin / F. W. Walbank / M. W. Frederiksen / R. M. Ogilvie (Eds.), The Cambridge Ancient History2 II: Rome and the Mediterranean to 133 BC, Cambridge, 477–516 Müller/Hasenohr (Eds.) 2002 = C. Müller / C. Hasenohr (Eds), Les Italiens dans le mond grec, IIe siècle av. J.-C. C. – Ier siècle ap. J.-C., Paris Olcese 2013 = G. Olcese (Ed.), Immensa Aequora Workshop. Richerche archeologiche, archeometriche e informatiche per la ricostruzione dell’economia e dei commerci nel bacino occidentale del Mediterraneo. (Metà IV sec. a. C. – I sec. d. C.). Atti del convegno, Roma, 24– 26 Gennaio 2011, Rome Pfeilschifter 2007 = R. Pfeilschifter, The Allies in the Republican Army and the Romanisation of Italy, in: R. E. Roth / J. Keller (Eds.), Roman by Integration: Dimensions of Group Identity in Material Culture and Text ( Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 66), 27–42 Revell 2016 = L. Revell, Ways of Being Roman. Discourses of Identity in the Roman West. Oxford Rich 2008 = J. Rich, Treaties, Allies and the Roman Conquest of Italy, in: P. De Souza / J. France (Eds.), War and Peace in Ancient and Mediaeval History, Cambridge, 51–75 Roselaar (Ed.) 2012 = S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden-Boston

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Rosenstein 2012 = N. Rosenstein, Integration and Armies in the Middle Republic, in: Roselaar (Ed.) 2012, 85–103 Roth 2018 = R. E. Roth, Beyond Romanisation: Settlement, Networks and Material Culture in Italy, c. 400–90 BC, in: G. Farney / G. Bradley (Eds.), The Peoples of Ancient Italy, BerlinBoston, 295–317 Roth 2019 = R. E. Roth, Sympathy with the Allies: Abusive Magistrates and Political Discourse in Republican Rome, in: American Journal of Philology 140, 123–166 Roth in press = R. E. Roth, Boundary Issues: Valerius Maximus and Rome’s Italian Allies, in: J. Murray / D. Wardle (Eds.), Reading by Exempla. Valerius Maximus and the Historiography of Exempla, Leiden-Boston Roth/Keller 2007 = R. E. Roth / J. Keller (Eds.), Roman by Integration: Dimensions of Group Identity in Material Culture and Text ( Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 66), Portsmouth, RI Stek 2018 = T. D. Stek, The Impact of Roman Expansion and Colonization on Ancient Italy in the Republican Period: From Diffusionism to Networks of Opportunity, in: G. Farney / G. Bradley (Eds.), The Peoples of Ancient Italy, Berlin-Boston, 269–294 Stek/Pelgrom 2014 = T. D. Stek / J. Pelgrom (Eds.), Roman Republican Colonization. New Perspectives from Archaeology and Ancient History, Leiden-Boston Wallace-Hadrill 2008 = A. Wallace-Hadrill, Romes Cultural Revolution, Cambridge

I. Conceptualising Rome’s Italian Empire

The Roman Conquest of Italy and the Republican City of Rome* John R. Patterson (Cambridge) For the historian Florus, writing in the second century AD about Rome’s conquest of Italy, it was a strange paradox that places which in his time were minor local centres had once been the scene of epic conflicts and glorious victories. ‘Faesulae meant the same to us then as Carrhae recently meant; the Arician wood corresponded to the Hercynian Forest, Fregellae to Gesoriacum, the Tiber to the Euphrates. So much glory was attached to the capture of Corioli – the shame of it! – that Cnaeus Marcius took on the name of the captured city and became Coriolanus, as though he had taken Numantia or Africa’. In characteristically confused and rhetorical fashion – he seems here and elsewhere to have mixed up Gesoriacum (Boulogne, in northern France) with a location on the Rhine – Florus draws attention to the question of how the Romans dealt with their past conflicts with the Italians, with whom they were now fully integrated.1 This paper examines the ways in which the conquest of central and southern Italy in the fourth and third centuries BC was reflected in the monuments of the city of Rome, and explores to what extent memories of that conquest, and the imposition of Roman hegemony over Italy more generally, were preserved in the experience of living in the city in the second and first centuries. In particular, did the ways in which Rome’s past struggles with the peoples of Italy were represented change following the extension of citizenship to Rome’s allies after the Social War?

* 1

Versions of this paper were delivered both in Cambridge and in Cologne. I am very grateful for their comments to audiences on those occasions, and in particular to Dunia Filippi, Stephen Oakley, Ben Raynor, Terry Volk, and George Watson. Flor. 1.5.8–9 with Goodyear 1982, 665 on Florus: “it is hard to find another Latin writer so utterly empty-headed”. On Gesoriacum: Flor. 2.30.26.

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1. The Roman conquest of Italy commemorated A good place to start is Rome’s war with the Latins between 341 and 338 BC, though there were of course some monuments visible in the Forum and elsewhere, even into the Principate, which were associated with earlier episodes in Rome’s struggles with the city’s Italian neighbours. For example the bronze statue identified as representing Horatius Cocles in the Comitium, which according to Pliny the Elder was still visible in his own time, recalled Roman efforts to repel the attack of Lars Porsena of Clusium, who was attempting to restore the recently expelled Tarquins to the city; indeed the existence of the statues may have influenced the stories told about Horatius in the ancient texts.2 Another case was the Porta Carmentalis in the city wall at the foot of the Capitol: it was considered ill-omened to leave the city through the right-hand archway of the gate, after a Roman force consisting entirely of members of the Fabius family passed through it en route to an attempt to attack the city of Veii in 477 BC, which resulted in a disastrous defeat at the battle of the Cremera.3 In the decades which followed the Latin War, however, we can see a significant increase in the quality and quantity of the detail provided for us by Livy’s narrative in particular, and the Latin War itself is of particular importance too because one of its consequences was the wholesale reorganization of the Roman-led alliance. Some Italian communities were incorporated into the Roman state, and given either full citizenship or citizenship without the vote; alliances were established between Rome and the other Latin communities; and a series of Roman and Latin colonies were founded. In this way Rome came to stand at the head of an alliance of communities of different status, all of which were obliged to contribute troops to the Roman-led army. This structure, and the quantities of manpower it made available, gave Rome a significant advantage in the wars with their Italian neighbours which followed.4 While Livy highlights in particular Rome’s struggle with the Samnites of the central Appennines, we also find Roman armies campaigning in the last decades of the fourth century across the south of the peninsula, in Campania, Apulia, and Lucania; to the north of Rome they fought against the Etruscans and Umbrians; and to the east and southeast of the city against the Hernici and the Aequi. Early in the third century the Romans and Samnites were again in conflict, and there were further campaigns in Umbria and Etruria, leading up to a major battle at Sentinum in 295 BC between the Romans and a force of Samnites and Gauls, in alliance with Umbrians and Etruscans. Livy’s narrative breaks off in 293 BC, and reconstructing subsequent events from the sketchy other sources which survive is not easy, but in the years which followed the Romans took over Samnium, the territory of the Sabines, and Picenum, then the remainder of Etruria 2 3 4

Livy 2.10 with Ogilvie 1965, 258–59; Walbank 1957, 740–41; Dion. Hal. Ant Rom. 5.25.2; Plin. HN 34.22; Gell. NA 4.5.1–4; Coarelli 1999b. Livy 2.49.8; Dio Cass. 5.21.3; Ov. Fast. 2.201–4; Coarelli 1996e. North 1981, 6–7; Oakley 1993; Cornell 1995, 364–68.

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and Umbria; meanwhile Roman forces also turned their attention to the Greek cities of southern Italy, and king Pyrrhus of Epirus who had entered Italy in 280 BC as an ally of Tarentum. By the time the Romans became involved in Sicily in 264 BC, in what was to become the First Punic War, virtually all of the peninsula south of Liguria and the Gallic territories of northern Italy was under their control.5 This exceptionally successful sequence of wars had immense consequences for Rome itself as well. As Cornell put it, ‘it was at this time that the characteristic political, social and economic structures of the classical Republic began to take shape’.6 We can flag up in particular the way in which the Senate acquired overall authority in the state, the development of Rome as a slave society, and the influx of vast quantities of booty into the Roman treasury.7 Not surprisingly, perhaps, these victories on the part of Rome were more substantially reflected in the built environment of the city than earlier conflicts, in which the Romans had not always been so successful. One version of the Horatius story saw the Romans defeated and the city successfully seized by the Tarquins, while the defeat at the Cremera, thought to have taken place on the same day as Rome’s subsequent defeat by the Gauls at the Allia in 390 BC, was remembered as an ill-omened dies ater.8 The victory of Rome over the Latins in 338 was marked by a group of monuments on the edge of the Forum, set up in honour of C. Maenius, consul in that year. The populus Romanus (Pliny tells us) decided that beaks from ships captured from the coastal city of Antium by Maenius should be displayed on the speakers’ platform between the Comitium and the Forum, giving it the name of the Rostra.9 Other initiatives associated with Maenius were a column nearby which took his name, and equestrian statues erected in honour of Maenius and the other consul of 338, L. Furius Camillus;10 during Maenius’ censorship in 318 BC, balconies known as maeniana were constructed around the Forum square.11 Similarly an equestrian statue of Q. Marcius Tremulus, who as consul in 306 BC defeated the Hernici to the south-east of Rome, was set up in front of the Temple of Castor.12 We also hear of the Forum being decorated with golden shields captured from the Samnites by L. Papirius Cursor, dictator in 310 BC, and similarly with spoils in 293 by his son of the same name who was consul in that year (though the two stories may have become confused).13 The central political spaces of the city

5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Harris 1979, 175–82; Cornell 1995, 352–64. Cornell 1995, 369. Cornell 1995, 369–98; see also Hölkeskamp 1993. Tac. Hist. 3.72; Scullard 1981, 166. Livy 8.14.12; Plin. HN 34.20 with Coarelli 1999a. Livy 8.13.9; Plin. HN 34.20 with Coarelli 1985, 39–53; Torelli 1993; Papi 1995a; Oakley 1998, 530–31. Festus 120L with Coarelli 1985, 143–46. Livy 9.43.22; Plin. HN 34.23, with Papi 1995b, and now the extensive discussion in Hölkeskamp 2016. Livy 9.40.16 with Oakley 2005a, 521–22; Livy 10.46.8 with Oakley 2005b, 450–451.

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were transformed by this process; along with the Capitol, the Forum and Comitium became areas characterized by the collective (or cultural) memory of Rome.14 Other areas of the city were affected too. The tomb of the Scipio family, between the Via Appia and Via Latina, commemorated the victories of L. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus (cos. 298 BC) in various parts of Italy: an inscription on his sarcophagus recorded that he ‘captured Taurasia and Cisauna from Samnium, subdued the whole of Lucania, and took away hostages’.15 By contrast the inscription on the sarcophagus of P. Cornelius Scapula (cos. 328 BC) in a nearby, and presumably earlier, tomb was rather briefer, simply recording Scapula’s role as pontifex maximus.16 Similarly a tomb excavated outside the Porta Esquilina of the city, dated to the early 3rd century BC and commemorating a Fabius or Fannius, is decorated with scenes of warfare and has traditionally been linked with the Samnite wars of that period.17 If we can extrapolate from this handful of monuments, the implication would seem to be that there was an increasing emphasis on military achievements in the funerary commemoration of the elite in the early 3rd century, although it should be underlined that these texts and images would have been contained within the tombs themselves and so presumably were not on general public view. Perhaps most significant as monuments reflecting the wars between Rome and the peoples of Italy, however, was the notable sequence of temples built in the city in this period (only the early second century BC provides a comparable frequency of temple-building).18 Typically these temples would be vowed to the gods during a battle, a contract let after the safe and victorious return of the general to Rome, and the temple then dedicated at a later date either by him, his son, or another relative. Alternatively the temple might be vowed after the battle, as a thank-offering to the god.19 Only occasionally, as in the case of the Temple of Fors Fortuna, dedicated in 293 by Sp. Carvilius following a victory over the Etruscans,20 do we find explicit reference to the use of manubiae (spoils) to finance the building of temples, but it is clear that those vowing and dedicating the temples gained significant prestige as a result, and the spoils them-

14 15 16 17

18 19 20

Morstein-Marx 2004, 42–60; 77–107; Hölkeskamp 2004, 151–63; Hölkeskamp 2006, esp. 485–90. CIL I2 6–7 = Dessau, ILS 1 = Degrassi, ILLRP 309 with Coarelli 1996a, 179–238; Zevi 1999; Flower 1996, 160–84. For discussion of the various accounts of Barbatus’ achievements, see Oakley 2005b, 161–66, 170–75. Pisani Sartorio / Quilici Gigli 1987–88. Coarelli 1977; Oriolo 1999; Holliday 2002, 83–91. For an alternative reading of the images, see La Rocca 1984. It has recently been suggested that the ‘Arieti tomb’, also decorated with scenes of combat and of triumph, and located only 35m from the Fabius/Fannius tomb, should be identified with that of A. Atilius Calatinus, consul in 258 BC: see Canali di Rossi 2014. Orlin 1997, 127. For discussion of the phenomenon of temple-building in this period, see Ziolkowski 1992; Aberson 1994; Orlin 1997. Cornell 2000, 46–49; Miano 2011, 28–30, and Steinby 2012, 19–20 provide overviews. Livy 10.46.14.

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selves might be displayed in the new temple (as for example in the case of the Temple of Quirinus, dedicated in 293 BC following the younger L. Papirius Cursor’s victory over the Samnites).21 Livy records the vowing or dedication of 7 temples directly or indirectly associated with the Italian wars between 338 and where his text breaks off in 293: the temples of Salus, Bellona, Jupiter Victor, Victoria, Jupiter Stator, Quirinus, and Fors Fortuna.22 Rightly or wrongly, Servius claims the temple of Venus Obsequens (295 BC) was vowed following a battle, contrary to what Livy says.23 In the years after that, down to 264 BC, we can be confident that the temples of Consus,24 Tellus,25 Vertumnus,26 Summanus27 and Pales28 were related to the wars of conquest in Italy. It is likely that there were further temple-constructions from this period of which we are unaware, as the literary record for the period 292–264 in particular is very fragmentary, and some temples known archaeologically cannot be identified; equally in some cases the exact (or even rough) location of temples known from ancient texts is unclear. The case of the Temple of Victoria illustrates both the complexities in dealing with this material, and the scale on which some of this temple building took place. Livy tells us that the temple was dedicated by L. Postumius Megellus as consul in 294 BC, a project initiated when he was aedile, using funds derived from fines.29 The majority of scholars identify the temple with the major structure (its podium measured 33 × 19 m) excavated by Pensabene on the Palatine between the later Temple of Magna Mater, and the House of Augustus;30 the scale of this project suggests to some that spoils seized by Megellus from the Samnites while holding an earlier consulship in 30531 may have been used rather than (or as well as) the fines collected by the aediles. The dedication took place in the middle of further campaigning by Megellus against the Samnites.32 Cecamore by contrast identifies the remains on the Palatine as those of the Temple

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Livy 10.46.7; Rawson 1991, 589. For lists of temple-building projects in this period, see Oakley 1993, 33–35; Orlin 1997, 199–202. Ziolkowski 1992 provides a catalogue of episodes of temple-building between 396 and 219 BC (17–185), and a summary list (187–89). Livy 10.31.9; Serv. auct ad Verg. Aen 1.720. Consus: linked with the triumph of L. Papirius Cursor, consul for the second time in 272 BC, over the Tarentines, see Festus 228L with Andreussi 1993. Tellus: vowed by P. Sempronius Sophus (cos. 268 BC) in battle against the Picenates: see Flor. 1.14.19 with Coarelli 1999d. Vertumnus (or Vortumnus): generally assumed to be associated with the victory over Volsinii in 264 BC by M. Fulvius Flaccus: see Festus 228L with Aronen 1999a. Summanus: dedicated in the course of the war against Pyrrhus: see Ov. Fast 6.731–32 with Coarelli 1999c. Pales: vowed by M. Atilius Regulus, consul 267 BC, in a battle against the Sallentines: see Flor. 1.15 with Aronen 1999b. Livy 10.33.9. Pensabene 1991, 12–14; Pensabene 2002, 77–80. Livy 9.44. Ziolkowski 1992, 172–9; Coarelli 2012, 226–27.

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of Jupiter Victor, vowed by Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus at the battle of Sentinum in 295,33 which is instead located on the Quirinal by Ziolkowski.34 Whichever identification is preferred, it is clear that a temple of major importance (and expense) was constructed in a key location on the Palatine in this period, associated with Rome’s wars against the Samnites and their allies; and that there was an increase in interest in divinities associated with the concept of Victory at around this time.35 There was also an upsurge in the display of artworks connected with temple-foundations and other religious initiatives in this period. Sp. Carvilius dedicated a monumental statue of Jupiter on the Capitol made from melted-down Samnite armour, and a smaller one of himself.36 Several temples of this period are known specifically because they housed paintings which interested Pliny or Festus: the temple of Salus was decorated with paintings by Fabius Pictor, the ancestor of Rome’s first historian,37 while L. Papirius Cursor was depicted in triumphal dress in the temple of Consus, as was Fulvius Flaccus in the temple of Vertumnus.38 In the time of Varro, the temple of Tellus contained a painted representation of Italia, probably a map of some kind, though whether this dated back to the temple’s foundation in 268 is unclear.39 If it did, this could be seen also to reflect the conquest of Italy in these years. Finally it is worth emphasising that the broader infrastructure of the city of Rome also benefited from this programme of building associated with Roman campaigns in Italy. Work on Rome’s first aqueduct, the Aqua Appia, was begun in 312 BC by Ap. Claudius Caecus, during his censorship, and the construction of the second, the Anio Vetus, was undertaken by M’ Curius Dentatus as censor in 272 BC.40 Frontinus however reports explicitly that the Anio Vetus was constructed using manubiae, apparently captured from Pyrrhus following his defeat at Beneventum in 275, when Dentatus was consul.41 It seems that Dentatus transferred the manubiae to the state treasury, and was then elected to the censorship to undertake the work; this is the first non-religious building known to have been constructed at Rome using spoils.42 As well as recalling Roman victories against their enemies, and demonstrating the new availability of extensive funds, the sequence of projects can also be seen as reflecting the Romans’ increasing confidence in their control of the city’s hinterland. Frontinus speculates that 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Livy 10.29.14; Cecamore 2002, 99–154. Ziolkowski 1992, 91–94; Coarelli 2012, 234–41 with further discussion in Coarelli 2014, 158–64. Oakley 2005a, 328. Plin. HN 34.43 with Papi 1999. Plin. HN 35.19. Festus 228L. Varro Rust 1.2.1; Roth 2007, 299–300 argues that the map in Varro’s account was organized according to the roads of the peninsula, and that the version being described should be dated to the late 1st century BC. Livy 9.29.5; Diod. Sic. 20.36.1; Frontin. Aq. 1.5 with Mucci 1993. Frontin. Aq. 1.6 with Mari 1993. Aberson 1994, 193–98; Steinby 2012, 82.

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‘the early builders … deliberately buried their aqueducts underground, so that they might not easily be cut by the enemy, since frequent wars were still waged with the Italians’.43 Nearly all of the channel of the Aqua Appia, and the springs from which its water-supply was drawn, lay underground, and the total length was only about 16km; the Anio Vetus, though also running mostly underground, was however drawn direct from the river Anio above Tibur, and the water was brought a distance of 81 km into Rome.44 In the same way, the building of the Via Appia by the censor Ap. Claudius Caecus to connect Rome and Capua in 312 BC, and the Via Valeria, which in 307 BC extended the Via Tiburtina into the territory of the Marsi, helped to integrate Rome with its hinterland as well as linking the city with new colonies and recently conquered territories.45 The temples too – with those dedicated to Vertumnus and Consus located on the Aventine, and those to Quirinus, Salus and perhaps also Jupiter Victor on the Quirinal,46 represented a significant extension of public building across the physical space of the city.47 Both the enhancement of the water supply and the spread of public monuments may also be related to an increasing urban population in this period, reflecting the growing wealth of the city, and the influx of captives seized from Rome’s Italian enemies, as debt-bondage, formally abolished in 326 BC, gave way to chattel-slavery.48 2. The Roman conquest of Italy forgotten? So far, this is perhaps a familiar story, not least due to the work of Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp and Robert Morstein-Marx in particular, who have highlighted the importance of this period in the monumentalisation of the political spaces of the city of Rome, and the consequences for public oratory, in a series of important publications.49 But to what extent did the collective memories associated with these monuments – and of the victories from which they originated – persist into the later Republic? Here things become more complicated, not least because – alongside the natural deterioration of buildings or spoils over time – the city of Rome was subject to continual fires, floods, and other disasters.50 Restoring monuments in their original form was not often a con-

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Frontin. Aq. 18. Ashby 1935, 49–87; Blackman 1979; Aicher 1995, 34–36. Via Appia: Diod. Sic. 20.36.2; Livy 9.29.5; Frontin. Aq. 5; Via Valeria: Livy 9.43.25. See also Wiseman 1970, 130–33; 139–40; Coarelli 1988; Patterson 1999. Carandini 2007; Coarelli 2014, 83–112; 158–66. Curti 2000, 83–90 sees the Quirinal developing as a centre of plebeian settlement in this period; more cautiously Ziolkowski 1992, 296–306. Oakley 1993, 24–26; abolition of debt-bondage: Cornell 1995, 333, 393–94. See above, n. 14. Deterioration: Rawson 1991, 590; fires: Sablayrolles 1996, 409–68, 771–802; floods: Aldrete 2007; on disasters in general: Toner 2013.

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cern for the Romans: the ‘hut of Romulus’ on the Palatine, repeatedly restored in wood and thatch, and the Regia, which retained the same essential layout from the 6th century BC to the imperial period, were unusual in this respect.51 Discussing the impact of the Great Fire of AD 64, Suetonius comments that ‘the houses of generals of old were burned, still decorated with spoils taken from the enemy’,52 while Tacitus alludes to the ‘wealth acquired in so many victories and masterpieces of Greek art’ which were lost, along with a number of ancient temples.53 The Neronian fire might have been the most disastrous conflagration, but it was only one of many: Pliny tells that Fabius Pictor’s paintings in the Temple of Salus had survived until the reign of Claudius, when the temple was destroyed by fire.54 Some monuments of the conquest of Italy did however continue to exist as civic landmarks despite all these upheavals. The Rostra, for example, remained as a key feature of the Forum Romanum even after it was refurbished under Sulla and then moved under Julius Caesar to a new position on the Forum’s central axis, from its previous location opposite the site of the old Curia.55 A coin of 45 BC shows this new Rostra still displaying its ships’ beaks,56 while Florus comments that the spoils taken from Antium were still to be seen in his own time.57 Subsequently a new Rostra was constructed by Octavian at the opposite end of the Forum, either part of or in front of the Temple of Divus Julius, and this displayed the beaks captured from the fleet of Antony and Cleopatra at the Battle of Actium.58 Here the association with the 4th century victory over the people of Antium survived, we must imagine, because of the central position and role of the Rostra in the political space of the city Another monument which displayed continuity in use, as well as an ongoing association with the family which originally established it, was the Temple of Bellona, located just outside the pomerium, the sacred boundary of the city, and not far from the site of the later Theatre of Marcellus.59 The temple was originally vowed by Appius Claudius Caecus in 296 BC, following a victory in Etruria.60 There continued to be links with the Claudian family thereafter: a restoration of Pliny’s text suggests that Ap. Claudius Pulcher, consul in 79 BC (and father of P. Clodius the tribune) set up imagines clipeatae (i. e. portraits of his ancestors on decorative shields) in the temple,

51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60

On the ‘hut of Romulus’ see Dion. Hal. Ant Rom. 1.79.11 with Siwicki 2012; on the Regia, see Scott 1999, 189–90; on Roman attitudes to ancient buildings more generally, see Jenkyns 2012. Suet. Ner 38.2. Tac. Ann. 15.41. Plin. HN 35.19. Coarelli 1985, 237–57; Coarelli 1999a, 213; Filippi 2017, 166. RRC 473 with Coarelli 1985, 244. Flor. 1.5.10. Dio Cass. 51.19.2 for the beaks of ships from Actium: for the rebuilt monument Coarelli 1985, 308– 24; Gros 1996. Coarelli 1965–67; Viscogliosi 1993; Coarelli 1997, 391–95. Livy 10.19.17–21.

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with inscriptions listing their honores.61 The ongoing family link with the temple was enhanced by the fact that the ancestral cemetery of the Claudii was located nearby, supposedly dating back to the time they migrated en masse from Sabine territory to Rome under the Kings or in the early years of the Republic.62 The impact of Pulcher’s initiative was clearly substantial: the next year we find that the consul M. Aemilius Lepidus displayed a set of imagines clipeatae in his own house and on the Basilica Aemilia in the Forum, presumably in an attempt to outdo the Claudii.63 In this way the achievements of the Claudii were reinforced by the display of shields and family portraits in the temple. It is also worth saying that the Temple of Bellona was a particularly appropriate site for a piece of self-advertisement of this kind, because the temple was frequently used for meetings of the Roman Senate: its position outside the pomerium and on the edge of the Campus Martius meant it was regularly used for discussing the award of triumphs, or for holding meetings with generals holding imperium, or with the representatives of foreign enemies, who were not allowed to cross the pomerium and enter the city proper.64 Besides the public buildings like the Rostra and temples which recalled past victories over Italian enemies, it is worth emphasizing that (from the late 4th century BC onwards) it was customary for spoils, pieces of armour in particular, to be displayed on the doorposts of the houses of the aristocracy and others who had distinguished themselves in war, just as the atrium of an aristocrat’s house was used for the display of funerary masks of past members of his family, portraits and family trees, and accounts of the achievements of his ancestors.65 Pliny tells us that even if the residence changed hands it was not permissible for these spoils to be removed, so ‘the houses eternally celebrated a triumph even though they changed their masters’.66 Sometimes a house and a temple set up by its owner might be located in the same area of the city, just as a temple and a family tomb might be found close together: one of the few possible examples of houses surviving into the principate in the hands of a long-standing noble family is the house on the Cispian hill decorated with frescoes depicting the Odyssey, which has been identified by Coarelli as the ancestral residence of the Papirii. The house was located close to the Temple of Mefitis, which while undated, can reasonably be linked

61 62 63 64 65 66

Plin. HN 35.12 with La Rocca 1987, 365, n. 100. On the Claudii more generally, see von Ungern-Sternberg 2006. Suet. Tib 1.1–2; La Rocca 1987, 365–66. Plin. HN 35.13. The shields on the Basilica Aemilia are depicted on the coins issued by M. Lepidus (RRC 419: 61 BC Crawford; 58 BC Hersh/Walker 1984). Coarelli 1965–67 and Viscogliosi 1993, 191 provide lists of such meetings; see also Bonnefond-Coudry 1989, 144–47, 151–60. Plin. HN 35.6–7 with Rawson 1991, 583–84. Plin. HN 35.7.

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with a defeat of the Lucanians, a people with which the goddess was particularly associated, by L. Papirius Cursor as consul in 272 BC.67 In these cases, then, a combination of location in a key public space, whether used for meetings of the Senate or the popular assemblies, and the ongoing engagement of a distinguished aristocratic family with a site commemorating victories over the Italians, helped contribute to the preservation of the collective memory of these victories. In other cases, however, the memory seems to have been less tenacious. An interesting case is that of the temple of Minerva Capta, about which very little at all is known, apart from its location, close to the Caelian hill.68 Ovid, discussing the shrine, struggles with the meaning of the word ‘capta’: did it refer to the ingenium of the goddess, or relate to her leaping from the caput of her father Jupiter? Was a capital penalty imposed on those stealing from the shrine, or did Minerva come to Rome as a captive after the defeat of Falerii, which had rebelled in 241 BC?69 Ovid’s suggestion that there was a connection with these events (when the defeated Faliscans were moved to a new urban site several miles away) has traditionally been accepted, given that the poet seems to have had a particularly close connection with Falerii, from where his wife came, and he claimed to have seen an ancient text (littera prisca) supporting this explanation.70 Others, however, have argued that in fact the shrine of Minerva Capta was archaic in date, and had nothing to do with Falerii.71 But in any case the fact that by Ovid’s time it could be unclear whether or not a particular temple in Rome had connections to the third century BC war with the Faliscans, suggests a general lack of knowledge about that struggle, and its consequences, at the time of Augustus; the shrine of Minerva was not the only monument at Rome capable of being understood in different ways by different people.72 If we return to the two accounts of the Neronian fire in Suetonius and Tacitus, we see that here too the memory of the lost monuments was selective. Suetonius comments that ‘the houses of generals of old were burned, still decorated with spoils taken from the enemy, and the temples of the gods vowed and dedicated by the kings and subsequently in the Punic and Gallic wars, and whatever else memorable and of interest had survived from antiquity’.73 There is something of a gap here between the regal-period monuments referred to by Suetonius, and those of the First Punic War; presumably the Gallic invasion of Italy in 225 BC (described as Bellum Gallicum Cis67 68 69 70 71 72 73

Coarelli 1996c; Coarelli 1998, 33–37; Marroni 2010, 157–61. Coarelli 1996d. Ov. Fast 3.839–848. Ov. Am. 3.13. For an illustration of the spoils of Falerii, see the discussion of a bronze breastplate captured from the town in Flower 1998, though this particular example of spoils appears to have ended up in the recipient’s tomb somewhere other than Rome. Torelli 1984, 52–56; Ziolkowski 1992, 112–15; Coarelli 1996d. Wiseman 2012, 45–46; Hölkeskamp 2012, 64. Suet. Ner 38.2.

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alpinum on the consular Fasti of Augustan date), and subsequent fighting in north Italy in the late third and early second centuries BC, are what is meant here by ‘Gallic wars’.74 There is a similar emphasis placed on the temples of archaic Rome by Tacitus, as he lists some specific monuments lost in the fire: ‘the temple dedicated to Luna by Servius Tullius, the great altar and shrine of the Present Hercules set up by Arcadian Evander, the temple of Jupiter Stator vowed by Romulus, the Regia of Numa, and the shrine of Vesta with the Penates of the Roman people’.75 Although the Temple of Jupiter Stator, located on the slopes of the Palatine, was in antiquity usually associated with Romulus, for example in Cicero’s first Catilinarian speech (which was delivered there),76 a temple was again vowed to Jupiter Stator in 294 BC at the battle of Luceria against the Samnites, by Marcus Atilius Regulus.77 According to Livy, the Roman forces looked as if they might be about to flee the battlefield, and Atilius made the vow to encourage them back to the fight, just as Romulus supposedly had when the Romans were being forced back to the Palatine by their Sabine opponents, soon after the foundation of the city.78 Livy subsequently alludes to the complicated historical tradition concerning the events of this year, citing Fabius Pictor to the effect that only the fanum (place set aside for the sanctuary) had originally been consecrated, but the Senate decided that the temple should then be constructed as it had now been vowed on two occasions.79 However, in Tacitus’ account of the aftermath of the Neronian fire, as indeed in other accounts beyond Livy’s, the Temple of Jupiter Stator recalls Romulus, and the victory at Luceria has disappeared from view. There is a particular irony here, in that it is quite possible that the story of the vowing of the temple by Romulus may have been made up at the time Atilius’ temple was vowed, along with many other features of the Romulus story.80 The archaeological record similarly gives indications that the physical memorials of Rome’s victories in Italy might sometimes survive only for a brief duration. Pliny the Elder reports the allegation, derived from Metrodorus of Scepsis, that the Etruscan city of Volsinii was destroyed in 264 BC by the Romans in order to seize 2000 bronze statues.81 The Roman commander on that occasion, who intervened in order to protect the Volsinian elite from an uprising by the subordinate classes in the town, was M. Fulvius

74 75 76

77 78 79 80 81

Degrassi 1947, 45. Tac. Ann. 15.41. Cic. Cat. 1.11; 1.33; 2.12. For discussion of the location of the temple, see Coarelli 1983, 26–33; Ziolkowski 1992, 87–91; Ziolkowski 1989; Cecamore 2002, 129–45; Ziolkowski 2004, 65–72. The debate has now, it seems, been definitively resolved in favour of a location close to the Arch of Titus by the discovery of a fragment of a calendar from Privernum: see Zevi 2014. Livy 10.36.11. Livy 1.12; Dion. Hal. 2.50.3; Ov. Fast 6.793; Plut. Rom 18.5–7; Flor. 1.1.13. Livy 10.37.14–16. Wiseman 1995, 126–28. Plin. HN 34.34.

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Flaccus, who subsequently built the temple of Vortumnus at Rome mentioned earlier.82 Volsinii was certainly destroyed: in fact the surviving loyal inhabitants were moved to a different site several miles away, near Lake Bolsena.83 How literally we should take the story of the 2000 statues is another matter, since Pliny himself points out that Metrodorus was a notorious hater of the Romans.84 However, recent excavations at Campo della Fiera, near Orvieto (the original site of Volsinii) have revealed what has been identified as the Fanum Voltumnae, the federal sanctuary of the Etruscan peoples. The remains of several bases supporting bronze statues have been located, suggesting that large-scale looting of artworks did take place, though some of these (still attached to the bases, in some cases) were quite small.85 At Rome, remains of a round monument, identified as a base for statues, and two further square plinths, the latter inscribed with parts of the words ‘Fulvius’ and ‘Volsinio capto’ (or perhaps ‘Volsiniis captis’), were discovered in the 1960s in the excavations of the Temple of Fortuna and Mater Matuta close to the church of S. Omobono near the ancient Forum Boarium.86 M(arcos) Folv[io(s) Q(uinti) f(ilios) cos]ol [dede]d Volsi[niis] cap[tis]87

The round base was set into a pavement which can be roughly dated to the 3rd century BC, so it may be, as Coarelli has argued, that Fulvius Flaccus reconstructed the whole area in front of the temple in commemoration of his victory.88 The episode falls in a period for which Livy’s text is missing, so we are poorly informed about the events of these years. However in 213 BC we hear that the whole surrounding area was destroyed by a serious fire, and Livy specifies that the temple was reconstructed by triumviri appointed to the task in the following year.89 The remains of the round base, and the fragments of the square plinths, were found underneath the new paving associated with this phase of rebuilding, so it seems clear that Flaccus’ monuments were demolished as part of the restoration process.90 Wiseman suggests that the disappearance of the monument may be linked to the Fulvius family losing influence at around that time: Cn. Fulvius Flaccus, praetor in 212, was defeated in a battle with Hannibal in Apulia that year.91 In any case, the physical reminders of Flaccus’ achievements in 264 had disappeared from view, at least on this site. 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91

Dio Cass. 10.42 with Harris 1971, 115–18. Gros 1981. For Metrodorus, see Habinek 2016. Stopponi 2011, 33–42; Stopponi 2013. Torelli 1968; Torelli 1977. CIL VI 40895. Coarelli 1992, 211–16; Cangemi 2012. Diffendale et al. 2016, 32–33 express caution as regards whether the round monument and square plinths were contemporary, and indeed whether the whole complex was built by Fulvius in 264. Livy 24.47.15–16; 25.7.5–6. Coarelli 1992, 213. Livy 25.21; Wiseman 1994, 44–47.

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Other commemorations too had only a brief period of visibility: Livy’s wording suggests that the display in the Forum of the golden shields captured by the elder Papirius Cursor was a temporary provision;92 we know that by the early first century BC, shields captured from the Cimbri by C. Marius were being displayed there, and Cicero in his De Oratore alludes to an orator mockingly comparing his opponent to a grotesque image of a Gaul depicted on one of these shields.93 Similarly we hear that the artworks misappropriated by C. Verres in Sicily and elsewhere were put on display there; Cicero suggests that it was regular practice for the aediles to display works of art, sometimes borrowed from their friends, in the Forum and Comitium on festive occasions.94 We have to imagine a regular turnover of spoils in the Forum: the overall effect was perhaps not so much to preserve the memory of specific campaigns, as to create an impression of Rome’s military successes in more general terms. The same issue arises with the display of honorific statues in the Forum and in other public places. We have already seen that several statues of victors in the Italian wars were displayed in the Forum in the 4th century BC, but it is less clear how many of them survived into the second or first centuries. For example, the statue erected to Q. Marcius Tremulus in front of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, following his victory over the Hernici in 306 BC, was evidently still visible early in 43 BC, since Cicero alludes to it in a speech to the People in which he denounces the setting up in the Forum of an equestrian statue to L. Antonius, the brother of the triumvir Mark Antony.95 Presumably Cicero was standing on the Caesarian Rostra to give this speech.96 The fact that Pliny the Elder refers to Tremulus’ statue in the past tense, however, suggests that it had disappeared by his time.97 In another of the Philippics we hear that statues of four Roman ambassadors who had been put to death by the Fidenates in the late 5th century BC, had been visible on the Rostra until Cicero’s time, ‘usque ad nostram memoriam’98 – presumably they must have disappeared at the time of Sulla’s reorganization of the Comitium, together with the statues of Pythagoras and Alcibiades, the ‘wisest and bravest of the Greeks’, which had been set up in the Comitium during the Samnite Wars on the instruction of Pythian Apollo. ‘The statues remained’, says Pliny, ‘until Sulla the dictator built the Senate House there’.99 The process by which statues commemorating the victors of the Italian wars disappeared from public view must also have been helped by the removal by the censors of 158 BC of statues ‘of all those who had held magistracies, apart from those which had been set up by a decree of the peo92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99

Livy 9.40.16 with Oakley 2005a, 522. Cic. De or 2.266. Cic. Verr 2.1.58–59; 2.4.6; 126. Cic. Phil 6.13; Livy 9.43.22; Papi 1995b; Morstein-Marx 2004, 80–81; Hölkeskamp 2016. Manuwald 2007, 792. Plin. HN 34.23. Cic. Phil 9.4, with Oakley 2013, 284–85, who persuasively reads ‘nostram’ in place of ‘meam’ here. Plin. HN 34.26 with Coarelli 1985, 119–23, 197.

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ple or senate’.100 The statue of Tremulus, apparently decreed by the People, would have fallen into this latter category. As Wallace-Hadrill observes in relation to the statues of the murdered ambassadors on the Rostra, ‘it is extraordinary that such antiques … were disposed of in this way’, but it does seem that such monuments did indeed disappear from view over time.101 3. Coin-legends and the conquest of Italy In the early 130s BC there was a significant change in Roman monetary practice. Previously the silver denarius showed a head of Roma on the obverse, and a limited range of images associated with the gods on the reverse. Thereafter the moneyers, the junior magistrates in charge of producing the coinage, started to choose images which were of particular importance to themselves or their families, although it should be remembered that many ‘traditional’ images continued to be used on coins in the later part of the century. It seems likely that this trend was related in some way to the introduction of the secret ballot for assemblies deciding on legislation and choosing between candidates for magistracies, which also took place in the 130s, and served as a means by which young aristocrats, from whom the moneyers were recruited, could publicise themselves and their families to potential voters. The production of these coins can also be seen to fit into the more general pattern of self-commemoration on the part of aristocratic families in this period of intense political competition, otherwise expressed in the writing of history, the building of monumental tombs, the display of spoils and pictures in the atria of their houses, or in the construction of public monuments such as porticoes or temples.102 Some of the images displayed on the coins were associated with family origins; others with military achievements of earlier members of the moneyer’s family, monuments they had built, or political initiatives they had undertaken, for example related to new legislation or to the provision of Rome’s food-supply.103 Given this general pattern, we might reasonably expect the wars of Rome against the Italians to form a significant theme within the body of coin-images, but this appears not to be the case. The catalogue in Crawford’s Roman Republican Coinage (RRC), from which Flower’s list is compiled, contains about a hundred examples of coins with legends and images recalling ancestors, but only three or four of these cases, at most, appear to commemorate the Italian wars between 338 and 264 BC.

100 Plin. HN 34.30. 101 Wallace-Hadrill 1990, 171. 102 Wiseman 1971, 147–49; Crawford 1974, 728; Flower 1996, 79–86; Meadows/Williams 2001, 37–49; Mattingly 2004, 217–222; Woytek 2012, 325–29 for a summary. 103 Meadows/Williams 2001, 38–39; Flower 1996, 333–38 (Appendix C) provides a list of coins recording ancestral images.

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The first of these coins, issued in 137 or 136 BC, and depicting two figures engaged in a sacrifice, has been interpreted by Crawford as referring to a treaty made between Romans and Samnites following the Roman defeat at the Caudine Forks in 321 BC.

Fig. 1 Silver denarius (RRC 234/1: reverse) depicting oath-taking scene © The Trustees of the British Museum.

One of the consuls involved was T. Veturius, who was an ancestor of the moneyer who issued the coin.104 However, not all scholars accept this view, some arguing that it would be most unlikely that a Roman aristocrat would willingly draw attention to his ancestor’s involvement in one of Rome’s greatest disasters; instead it is suggested either that a scene from the current war in Spain was being depicted or that a fetialis priest is being portrayed rather than a Samnite. A further possibility is that the coin may recall an oath-taking scene depicted on gold coins issued during the Second Punic War (RRC 28, 29), though it is unclear why this image might have been selected for imitation by Veturius.105 The second is a coin of 113/2 or 110 BC showing a horseman carrying a laurel branch, with the legend ‘L. Philippus’. This refers to the moneyer responsible for the issue, L. Marcius Philippus (to be identified with the man who became consul in 91 BC), and is usually taken to be a representation of the equestrian and togate statue of his ancestor Q. Marcius Tremulus, to which Cicero alludes in his sixth Philippic.106 Some scholars have queried this 104 RRC 234 (137 BC Crawford; 136 BC Mattingly 2004, 216); Crawford 1973. 105 Crawford 1973, 5–6; Rawson 1991, 597; Oakley 2005a, 29–31; 648–51. 106 RRC 293 (113/2 BC Crawford; 110 BC Mattingly 2004, 206); Sehlmeyer 1999, 182–83. Sehlmeyer (1999, 57–60) and several other scholars think that Tremulus’ statue is being portrayed on RRC 425, a coin issued in the early 50s by another Philippus (56 BC Crawford; 57 BC Hersh/Walker 1984; 58 BC Mattingly 2004, 288). While this figure is indeed wearing a toga (like Tremulus), it seems more likely that the coin shows a statue of Q. Marcius Rex, builder of the Aqua Marcia of 144 BC, which is depicted below the statue. A statue of Marcius Rex is known to have stood on the

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Fig. 2 Silver denarius (RRC 293/1) depicting Macedonian king (obverse) and figure on horseback (reverse). © The Trustees of the British Museum.

view, however, and Crawford himself cautiously says that the image is ‘perhaps’ that of Tremulus’ statue. Sehlmeyer argues that it does not represent a statue at all. It is worth noting too that the obverse of the coin depicts a Macedonian king, wearing a helmet with goat’s horns, and the coin is marked with the letter ‘phi’. The king is normally identified as Philip V, known to have worn headgear of this kind, while the figure on horseback, with its laurel branch, is reminiscent of the jockey depicted with a palm on the reverse of the silver coinage of Philip II, apparently recalling the victory of the latter’s horse at the Olympic Games in 356 BC (though the laurel on the image on Philippus’ coin is carried over the horseman’s shoulder, whereas the palm on the Macedonian coins is pointing forwards).107 The references to the Macedonian monarch or monarchs here can be understood as allusions to Philippus’ name. It is interesting that a goat’s-horned helmet is also illustrated on the coins issued by an earlier moneyer from the same family, Q. Philippus, in the 120s BC, and evidently the link with Macedonia is being stressed here too.108 Q. Marcius Philippus, the grandfather of this moneyer, was involved as consul in campaigning against Perseus of Macedon in 169 BC, and Livy tells us that there was a long-standing relationship of hospitium between the Marcii Philippi and the Macedonian royal household.109 All in all, then, the emphasis here seems to be on associations with Macedon, and a link between the coin and the Samnite wars cannot confidently be asserted.

Capitol, where the Aqua Marcia terminated, but it is unclear whether this was an equestrian statue. See (for the statue of Marcius Rex) Chioffi 1993; Hölkeskamp 2016, 190–91. 107 Philip V and the goat’s-horned helmet: Livy 27.33.2–3 with Smith 1988, 42–43. Philip II’s coinage: Le Rider 1977, 366–67; Kraay 1976, 145–47 with Plut. Alex 3 for the victory of Philip’s horse. 108 RRC 259 (129 BC Crawford; 126 BC Mattingly 2004, 211–12; 220). 109 Livy 42.38.8–9 with Briscoe 2012, 279–80.

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The third, issued by Decimus Silanus at the time of the Social War, depicts a head of the goddess Salus ‘safety’, and has been taken to relate to the temple of that goddess on the Quirinal, vowed by Silanus’ ancestor, the consul C. Iunius Bubulcus Brutus, during a battle with the Samnites in 311 BC.

Fig. 3 Silver denarius (RRC 337/2b) depicting head of Salus (obverse) and Victory in a chariot (reverse). © The Trustees of the British Museum.

He let the contract as censor in 307 and the temple was dedicated in 302 when Iunius was dictator.110 This theme would have been particularly appropriate in the context of the Social War, both appealing for divine intervention to ensure Rome’s safety at a time of crisis, and recalling past victories over the Samnites, who formed a major element in the forces ranged against Rome; though Salus is only one of the images on Silanus’ coins, the others being Silenus, Janus, and Roma, the latter greatly predominating in terms of the numbers of coins in circulation. Finally, two series of coins, issued in 60 or early in the 50s BC, depict Jupiter in a four-horse chariot and explicitly (using the phrases ‘cepit Priv.’ (RRC 420) or ‘Preiver. capt.’(RRC 422)) commemorate the capture of Privernum in Latium and subsequent triumph by C. Plautius Decianus in 329 BC.111 Plautius Decianus is incorrectly given the name Hypsaeus on the coins, apparently because those responsible for them – Mattingly argues that two men are involved, P. Plautius Hypsaeus, an aedile in 58 BC, and a younger relative with the same name who served as moneyer – were keen to establish a closer family link with the fourth-century

110 111

RRC 337 (91 BC Crawford; 90 BC Mattingly 2004, 202, 265–66). For the Temple of Salus, Livy 9.43.25; 10.1.9. RRC 420 (60 BC Crawford; 57 BC Mattingly 2004, 283–84, 288); RRC 422 (58 BC Crawford and Mattingly). See also Morstein-Marx 2004, 87–88. For the events surrounding the capture of Privernum, see Livy 8.20.2–21.10 with Oakley 1998, 602–06. Terrenato 2014 examines the ambitions and strategies of the Plautii, arguing for a long-term engagement on their part with southern Latium.

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Fig. 4 Silver denarius (RRC 422/1a) depicting camel and kneeling figure (obverse) and Jupiter in chariot with legend commemorating the capture of Privernum (reverse). © The Trustees of the British Museum.

triumphator. RRC 422, issued by Hypsaeus and his fellow curule aedile in 58 M. Aemilius Scaurus, alludes to Privernum on the reverse, but the obverse shows a camel and kneeling figure, in some issues identified by the legend ‘Rex Aretas’ with the king of Nabataea. This alludes to Scaurus’s invasion of Arabia in 62 BC and subsequent withdrawal, after Aretas paid him the sum of 300 talents.112 Different versions of RRC 420 depict on the obverse portraits of the god Neptune and the sea-nymph Leuconoe, from whom the Hypsaei claimed to be descended, so the moneyer is evidently using multiple strategies in the choice of images on his coins, seeking to maximize their impact on the visibility and prestige of his family. In relation to the change in the character of coin-designs in the 130s BC, Mattingly observes: ‘moneyers could now allude to events of the distant past, to heroes of the early Republic, to exploits of the Punic and Eastern wars, or of even more recent times.’113 He does not mention the wars of conquest in Italy, and aptly so, because there seem to be very few clear references to these on coins. The coins of Veturius and Philippus may not allude to the Samnite Wars at all; Junius’ explicit reference to his ancestor’s founding of the Temple of Salus does seem suited to the context of the Social War, but the coin was distributed in comparatively small quantities. As regards the Privernum coins, it appears that the Plautii had fallen into obscurity since the fourth century, and subsequently only one closely related member of the family, M. Plautius Hypsaeus, had reached the consulship, in 125 BC. We know little of that consul’s activities apart from the fact that he was the target of a hostile speech by C. Gracchus.114 We might conclude 112 113 114

For Hypsaeus and Aretas, see Joseph. BJ 1.1.159; AJ 14.80–1. Mattingly 2004, 217. Gruen 1974, 107 n. 62; Münzer 1999, 44–45. C. Gracchus’ speech: Val. Max. 9.5. ext. 4 = Malcovati ORF fr. 59.

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that it was in the absence of more recent distinguished ancestors that the Hypsaei were looking back to the Italian wars for an episode worthy of commemoration, and it is evident that the connection with the capture of Privernum was manufactured, as of course was their descent from Neptune and Leuconoe. In general, as Mattingly notes, the ancestors recorded on coin-types of this kind seem predominantly to have carried out their glorious deeds in the Punic wars, as part of the Roman conquest of the East in the second century BC, or in more recent campaigns: there was an emphasis on images associated with Macedonia on the coins of the second-century Philippi, for example, even though an earlier Q. Marcus Philippus, consul in 281 BC, had triumphed over the Etruscans.115 Despite the large scale of the coins he issued with Scaurus,116 the aedile Hypsaeus was not a great success politically – Gruen dismissed him as a ‘lightweight’. His relative who served as moneyer was even less distinguished, and the same can perhaps be said for P. Maenius Antias, who took a cognomen recalling C. Maenius’ victories at Antium in 338 BC. He issued coins in 132 BC, but failed to achieve further distinction.117 It may be, then, that allusion to the Italian wars on coins was not in fact a particularly successful strategy. Other factors may of course have been significant here, including the possibility that aristocratic families, even the most distinguished ones, might have fallen from prominence between the time of the Italian wars and the late Republic: for example, after the consul P. Decius Mus sacrificed himself for the good of the state at the battle of Sentinum, and his son died in battle against Pyrrhus, the next Decius we know to have held public office was praetor in 115 BC.118 The discussion so far, then, suggests that while it would be an exaggeration to say the Italian wars had been forgotten in the second and first centuries BC – Tremulus’ statue was still visible in the 40’s BC, and Cicero could allude to it, and expect to be understood by his audience – the physical commemoration of Rome’s struggles with the Italians tended over time to be overwritten by later monuments. Partly this may be a matter of the monuments of the Italian wars being physically less impressive than their later counterparts: Pliny notes that the statues of the Roman ambassadors killed on a mission to queen Teuta of Illyria in 230, which were displayed in the Forum, were ‘according to the annals’, only three feet high: this suggests that they were no longer visible by his day. Some at least of the statues from Volsinii must have been even smaller, as we have seen.119 The monuments which survived most securely were those which happened to form a central landmark in the city, like the Rostra, or where memory was reinforced by the ongoing oversight of a major aristocratic family, such as the Temple of Bellona, as well as the good fortune to survive fire, flood, and other disasters.

115 116 117 118 119

Degrassi 1947, 73. Mattingly 2004, 274–75. RRC 249 with Mattingly 2004, 218–19. Flower 1995, 180 n. 69. Plin. HN 34.23–24. On the statuary, see McDonnell 2006, 73.

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Tremulus’ statue was particularly well known, as it was situated in a central location in the Forum, and its visibility was reinforced by its association with multiple other monuments in the vicinity of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, which recalled Rome’s relationship with the Latins and the Hernici over the long term. It is also likely that there was an inscription below the statue which recorded Tremulus’ achievements.120 Turning to images on coins, we see that rather than commemorating episodes in the conquest of Italy, moneyers from aristocratic families often preferred to go back to mythical antecedents, or the very earliest years of the Roman Republic, or to prioritise for commemoration more recent ancestral achievements, when these were available. In a similar way, the Fornix Fabianus, an arch set up by Q. Fabius Maximus Allobrogicus in 120 BC where the Via Sacra entered the Forum, was decorated with statues of distinguished members of the Fabius family, probably in connection with a restoration in 57 BC. It is striking that the inscriptions which survive from the arch all record Fabii or other relations of Allobrogicus dating from the late third century BC onwards, though given the fragmentary nature of the evidence we cannot exclude the possibility that earlier Fabii (e. g. Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus, victor over the Samnites) were depicted on the monument.121 Similar observations might also be made about literary portrayals of the Roman wars of conquest in Italy. Scholars working on the historical traditions of regal and republican Rome have often noted an ‘hour-glass’ effect, whereby annalistic writers tended to devote more space to accounts of early Rome and of events closer to their own times, but less to the history of the intervening period.122 As Wiseman has emphasized, the people of Rome acquired much of their knowledge of the past from dramatic performances,123 and these included fabulae praetextatae, plays on historical themes performed publicly in the city.124 From an admittedly very small sample, these plays – with the exception of Accius’ Decius vel Aeneadae, which in the second half of the second century BC apparently dealt with Decius Mus’ self-sacrifice at the battle of Sentinum)125 – tended either to relate to the earliest history of Rome (e. g. Naevius’ Romulus, Ennius’ Sabine Women and Accius’ Brutus) or to the events of the late third and early second centuries BC (e. g. Naevius’ Clastidium, about Rome’s war with the Gauls in the 220s, and Ennius’ Ambracia, about M. Fulvius Nobilior’s campaigns in Aetolia in the early 180s), which were at the time of performance (in the late third / early second centuries BC) quite recent. In the same way it is striking that Cicero, in discussing the use of historical exempla in speeches, recommends that the orator have 120 121 122 123 124 125

Hölkeskamp 2016, 196–99. Chioffi 1995; Chioffi 1996, 26–36; Kontokosta 2013; Kragelund 2016, 54. Badian 1966, 11; Wiseman 1979, 8–10, but with reservations expressed at Cornell 2013, 170–73. E. g. Wiseman 2012, 62. Flower 1995, 171. Kragelund 2016, 53–57 links the play with the activities of Q. Fabius Maximus Allobrogicus, who was a descendent of Fabius Rullianus, Decius’ colleague as consul.

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a stock ‘either of more recent examples, in order that they may be better known, or older examples, in order that they may have more authority’.126 In his own speeches, we can see famous men from the time of the Italian wars being deployed as exempla both against later members of their gens (Ap. Claudius Caecus against Clodius and Clodia, for example, or the Decii Mures against P. Decius, an associate of Mark Antony),127 or in lists of celebrated generals or models of traditional frugality (M’ Curius Dentatus, C. Fabricius).128 However, there are (on my count, based on Bücher’s analysis) only nine individuals who can be clearly identified as serving as exempla from the period between the Latin War and 264 BC,129 as against 233 dating after 133 BC (on Bücher’s count). Sixty per cent of the exempla used come from Cicero’s or the preceding generation.130 Hölkeskamp observes that ‘in Rome, the present never obliterates the past, since none of the memorable events are ever marginalized or fully forgotten’;131 the emphasis here should perhaps be on the ‘fully’, since while exempla from the time of the Italian wars were certainly deployed by Cicero from time to time, there was also a general tendency to choose more recent individuals and episodes where possible.132 4. The Roman conquest of Italy: changing perspectives Of course, wars in Italy did not come to an end with the destruction of Volsinii in 264 BC, or indeed the transfer of the rebellious Faliscans to their new urban site in 241. During the two decades following the end of the First Punic War the Romans were involved in a series of conflicts against the Gauls and Ligurians in northern Italy, which then continued into the second century after Hannibal and the Carthaginians had been expelled from the peninsula. It was only in 155 BC that these campaigns reached a successful conclusion, at least for the Romans,133 and until then the building of temples and other monuments in the city commemorating wars in Italy continued to take place.134 When the Social War, an uprising of Rome’s Italian allies, broke out in 91 BC there was renewed fighting in many of the areas of Italy originally fought over in the late 4th 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134

Cic. Part or. 96. Ap. Claudius Caecus and his descendents: e. g. Cic. Dom. 105; Cic. Cael. 33; P. Decius: Cic. Phil 11.13; 13.27. E. g. Cic. Cael. 39; Cic. Pis. 58. The individuals in question are: P. Decius Mus (father and son); M. Vitruvius Vaccus; Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus; Ap. Claudius Caecus; Q. Marcius Tremulus; M’ Curius Dentatus; Ti. Coruncanius; C. Fabricius Luscinus. Bücher 2006, 157 and Appendix 1; van der Blom 2010, 115. Hölkeskamp 2006, 49. See also the discussion in Oakley 2005a, 440–43. For a narrative of these campaigns, see Staveley 1989, 432–36; Harris 1989, 107–18. Pietilä Castrén 1987; Orlin 1997, 160 n. 171 gives a list of temples dedicated in this period.

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and early 3rd centuries BC. The consequences were calamitous: Velleius estimates that on both sides 300, 000 soldiers lost their lives, and the Roman elite suffered casualties on a scale not seen since the Hannibalic war.135 In the city of Rome itself, the impact of the conflict, and the civil war which followed it during the 80s BC, which continued to involve some of the main antagonists of the Social War, was limited but grim. In 89 BC, Cn. Pompeius Strabo, the father of Pompey the Great, celebrated a triumph over the people of Asculum and Picenum, the first over Italian opponents (excluding Gauls and Ligurians) since 241 BC. It attracted particular interest in retrospect, because of the story of P. Ventidius of Picenum, who as a child walked as a captive in Pompeius’ triumphal procession, but himself came to celebrate a triumph over the Parthians in 38 BC.136 Even more shocking were the events surrounding Sulla’s victory in 82 at the Colline Gate, just outside Rome, over an army largely composed of Lucanians and Samnites which had unexpectedly attacked the city. Several authors describe how afterwards Sulla assembled the prisoners, either in the Circus Flaminius or the Villa Publica on the Campus Martius, and ordered them to be massacred just as he was addressing the Senate in the nearby Temple of Bellona. The screams of the prisoners could be heard in the background.137 There are some indications that Sulla may have set up a further temple to Bellona on the Quirinal hill, not far from the scene of the battle, recalling previous victories over the Samnites as well as his own.138 But in the late second and first centuries BC (if not before) we need to look beyond buildings and monuments in order to illustrate the impact of Rome’s conquest of Italy on the city itself. The increasing size of Rome would be one such indicator: at a very rough estimate, we can imagine that the urban population increased from about 200,000 to 1 million between the beginning of the second century BC and the principate of Augustus.139 It is clear that large numbers of Italians migrated to Rome in the second century: in 187 and again in 177, Livy tells us that delegates from the Latin colonies complained about this drift to Rome, and in 187, 12,000 of the Latin migrants were sent back to their home towns.140 In 95 BC, the Lex Licinia Mucia clamped down on allies and Latins improperly claiming Roman citizenship, and ordered them out of Rome: according to Asconius, this was ‘perhaps the chief cause of the Italian war which broke out three years later’.141 Sallust observes that at the time of Catiline’s conspiracy ‘all who were especially notable for their disgraceful and shameless behaviour, and also those who had dishonourably squandered their patrimony, or whom disgrace

135 136 137 138 139 140 141

Vell. Pat. 2.15.3; Steel 2013, 80; on the war in general, see now Kendall 2013; Dart 2014. Val. Max. 6.9.9; Vell. Pat. 2.65.3; Plin. HN 7.135; Gell. NA 4.4. Plut. Sull 30.2–4; Sen. Clem 1.12.2; Dio Cass. fr. 109.5–7. Palmer 1975, esp. 657–61; Dumser 2002. Morley 1996, 38–39; Scheidel 2001a, 51; 63 n. 255; Tacoma 2016, 152–57. Livy 39.3–6; 41.8.7. On the legal implications of these episodes, see recently CoŞkun 2016. Asc. 68C.

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or crime had forced to leave home, had all flowed into Rome as into a cesspool’.142 Large numbers of slaves came to the city too.143 But it was not only the poor, or the captive, who migrated to Rome. As early as the late fourth century BC we hear of Vitruvius Vaccus, a wealthy Italian, who had acquired a residence on the Palatine in Rome. Despite coming from nearby Fundi, he reportedly served as general for the city of Privernum when it rebelled against Rome: he was defeated by C. Plautius Decianus (the supposed ancestor of Hypsaeus) in 329, executed, and his house was pulled down.144 It was also common for members of the elites of Italian communities to have relationships of hospitium with leading Romans, and it was customary for the Italians to stay in the houses of their hospites when visiting Rome. There are numerous examples of this, but to take just one, Dio records that the secret approaches in 265 BC by the elite of Volsinii to the Roman Senate, in which they complained of the take-over of their town by the subordinate classes, were betrayed by a visiting Samnite who was recovering from illness in the house of one of the senators. When the envoys were murdered by the rebels on their return to Volsinii, the Romans sent Fulvius Flaccus to seize the city by way of punishment.145 Interestingly, Festus tells us that there was a location in the city called Fregellae, where ‘the hospites of that city lived’, though it is unclear whether the observation refers to the situation before or after the destruction of this important Latin colony by L. Opimius in 125 BC.146 Italians, then, were to be encountered in large numbers in the houses and streets of the city of Rome, even before the Social War. With the extension of the franchise to the former Italian allies in the years following that conflict, some at least of the population of Italy came to Rome to take part in meetings of the popular assemblies, and some occasions in particular attracted substantial crowds from Italy (or so Cicero would have us believe). Defending Cn. Plancius, accused of electoral malpractice at the aedileship elections of 55 BC, he explains Plancius’ success by the large turnout of voters from Italian towns who came to support him: ‘there was no-one at Arpinum, at Sora, at Casinum, or Aquinum, who was not the partisan of Plancius’.147 Cicero likewise acclaims on several occasions the gathering of the comitia centuriata which in 57 BC voted for his recall from exile: ‘when have you seen such a crowd in the Campus, with so splendid a gathering of every order from the whole of Italy?’148 Cicero has an agenda here, stressing the widespread support from across the peninsula for his return, and this was perhaps an exceptional occasion; it might also be argued that the successful impact of Plancius’ supporters, Sall. Cat 37.5. Jongman 2003, 116–19. Cic. Dom 101; Livy 8.19.4–20.8 with Oakley 1998, 602–06; Terrenato 2014, 51–52. Dio Cass. 10.42. For further discussion of relations of hospitium between Roman and Italian elites in this period, and more examples, see Patterson 2006, esp. 139–43; Patterson 2016, esp. 43–46. 146 Festus 80L. 147 Cic. Planc 22, with Lomas 2004, 112–13. 148 Cic. Red Sen. 28.

142 143 144 145

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if large numbers of them did indeed come to Rome to vote for him, may reflect a low turn-out of men from other parts of Italy in the election.149 Cicero, however, was advised by his brother to learn by heart the map of Italy, divided into its voting tribes, and ensure that he had strong support from municipal voters across Italy, and it is clear that the support of voters from Italy could in some circumstances prove crucial to electoral success.150 In the context of the changing character of the city of Rome, with significant numbers of Italians migrating to the city, and especially when after the Social War the presence of men from Italian towns might swing an election in favour of or against a particular candidate, it would have been imprudent for individual politicians to lay too much emphasis on their ancestors’ victories over Italian opponents. Cicero commented on the upset suffered by visitors from Asia and Achaia when they saw the treasures of their temples, misappropriated by Verres, on display in the Forum at Rome; there was a serious risk that Italians might have been alienated in a similar way.151 The coinage of the aedile Hypsaeus may well have been particularly provocative in this respect: his supposed ancestor’s victory over Privernum is explicitly linked with Scaurus’ ‘victory’ over a foreign enemy. By contrast, from about 110 BC onwards, we find aristocrats using images on their coins which drew attention to their Italian family backgrounds, whether from Latium, Etruria, or the Sabine territory. The use of these images intensified in the 40s BC as men from parts of Italy beyond these three areas, from which senators had particularly originated in the past, came to be involved in political life in Rome in a more extensive way.152 Even so, the very structure of the comitia tributa recalled the conquest of Italy: new voting-tribes had gradually been added as land in newly conquered areas was assigned to Roman citizens, eight in the years between the Latin War and 241 BC,153 and sometimes its meetings might explicitly recall past antagonisms. Livy tells us that in 323 BC the tribal assembly voted on whether the people of Tusculum should be punished for supporting Privernum and Velitrae in the uprising against Rome which had been suppressed by Plautius Decianus six years previously. The Tusculani appealed to the people, with the result that only one tribe, the Pollia, voted for the punishment which had been proposed by the tribune M. Flavius, death for the men of Tusculum and slavery for their wives and children. Livy reports that ‘down to our fathers’ time’ a candidate from the Pollian tribe hardly ever received the vote of the Papirian tribe (in which the Tusculani were registered).154

149 150 151 152 153 154

Mouritsen 1998, 96; Mouritsen 2001, 118–23. Cicero Comment pet 30–32. Cic. Verr 2.1.59. Farney 2007, esp. 1–5, 294–95. Cornell 1995, 380; Taylor 2013, 47–68, 364–66. Livy 8.37.8–12 with Oakley 1998, 755.

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In this context, forgetting the Roman conquest of Italy might have been a product of good political sense, as well as the vagaries of time and memory. The monuments of victory in the city were now predominantly reflecting Rome’s overseas conquests, rather than those over the peoples of Italy. The exceptions to this general pattern – allusion to the Samnite wars at the time of the Social War and the massacres of Sulla, the misguided and ultimately unsuccessful attempts of the Hypsaei to co-opt their ancestor’s capture of Privernum for their own political advancement, Cicero’s allusions to Tremulus’ statue and to other leading figures from the Italian wars – are comparatively few in number and can be explained in terms of the specific military and political context, the ambitions of an individual, the orator’s rhetorical aims, or (in the case of Tremulus’ statue) its particular visibility, accompanied by a strong nexus of historical associations. Especially after the census of 70–69 made the admission of Italians to citizenship a political reality and was celebrated with coins showing Roma and Italia clasping hands,155 Italian ancestry – or at least certain types of Italian ancestry – could be seen as a potential vote-winner rather than vote-loser, and references to the Italian wars a strategy to be deployed with caution. List of illustrations Fig. 1: Silver denarius (RRC 234/1: reverse) depicting oath-taking scene. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 2: Silver denarius (RRC 293/1) depicting Macedonian king (obverse) and figure on horseback (reverse). © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 3: Silver denarius (RRC 337/2b) depicting head of Salus (obverse) and Victory in a chariot (reverse). © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 4: Silver denarius (RRC 422/1a) depicting camel and kneeling figure (obverse) and Jupiter in chariot with legend commemorating the capture of Privernum (reverse). © The Trustees of the British Museum.

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Oakley 1998 = S. P. Oakley (Ed.), A Commentary on Livy Books VI–X, vol. II: Books VII and VIII, Oxford Oakley 2005a = S. P. Oakley (Ed.), A Commentary on Livy Books VI–X, vol. III: Book IX, Oxford Oakley 2005b = S. P. Oakley (Ed.), A Commentary on Livy Books VI–X, vol. IV: Book X, Oxford Oakley 2013 = S. P. Oakley, Notes on the Text of Cicero’s Philippics, in: Classical Quarterly 63, 277–91 Ogilvie 1965 = R. M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy Books 1–5, Oxford Oriolo 1999 = F. Oriolo, Sepulcrum Fabii/Fannii, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 4, 288 Orlin 1997 = E. M. Orlin, Temples, Religion and Politics in the Roman Republic, Leiden Palmer 1975 = R. E. A. Palmer, The Neighbourhood of Sullan Bellona at the Colline Gate, in: Mélanges de L’École Française de Rome 87, 653–65 Papi 1995a = E. Papi, Equus: C. Maenius, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 2, 229 Papi 1995b = E. Papi, Equus: Q. Marci Tremuli, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 2, 229–30 Papi 1999 = E. Papi, Statua colossea: Iuppiter, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 5, 363 Patterson 1999 = J. R. Patterson, Via Appia, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 5, 130–33 Patterson 2006 = J. R. Patterson, The Relationship of the Italian Ruling Classes with Rome: Friendship, Family Relations, and their Consequences, in: Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), 139–53 Patterson 2016 = J. R. Patterson, Elite Networks in Pre-Social War Italy, in: Aberson/Biella/di Fazio/Sánchez/Wullschleger (Eds.), 43–55 Pensabene 1991 = P. Pensabene, Il tempio della Vittoria sul Palatino, in: Bollettino di Archeologia 11–12, 11–51 Pensabene 2002 = P. Pensabene, Venticinque anni di ricerche sul Palatino: I santuari e il sistema sostruttivo dell’area sudovest, in: Archeologia Classica 53, 65–136 Pietilä-Castrén 1987 = L. Pietilä-Castrén, Magnificentia publica: the Victory Monuments of the Roman Generals in the Era of the Punic Wars, Helsinki Pisani Sartorio/Quilici Gigli 1987–88 = G. Pisani Sartorio / S. Quilici Gigli, A proposito della Tomba dei Corneli, in: Bullettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma 92, 247–64 Powell/Paterson (Eds.) 2004 = J. Powell / J. Paterson (Eds.), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford Rawson 1991 = E. Rawson, The Antiquarian Tradition: Spoils and Representations of Foreign Armour, in: Roman Culture and Society: Collected Papers, Oxford, 582–98 Rich/Shipley (Eds.) 1993 = J. Rich / G. Shipley (Eds.), War and Society in the Roman World, London, 9–37 Rosenstein/Morstein-Marx (Eds.) 2006 = N. Rosenstein / R. Morstein-Marx (Eds.), A Companion to the Roman Republic, Malden MA Roth 2007 = R. Roth, Varro’s picta Italia (RR I, ii, 1) and the Odology of Roman Italy, in: Hermes 135, 286–300 Sablayrolles 1996 = R. Sablayrolles, Libertinus miles: les cohortes de vigiles. (Collection de l’École française de Rome 224), Rome Scheidel 2001a = W. Scheidel, Progress and Problems in Roman Demography, in: Scheidel (Ed.), 1–82 Scheidel 2001b = W. Scheidel (Ed.), Debating Roman Demography, Leiden Scott 1999 = R. T. Scott, Regia, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 4, 189–92 Scullard 1981 = H. H. Scullard, Festivals and Ceremonies of the Roman Republic, London Sehlmeyer 1999 = M. Sehlmeyer, Stadtrömische Ehrenstatuen der republikanischen Zeit, Stuttgart

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Siwicki 2012 = C. Siwicki, The Restoration of the Hut of Romulus, in: Emmons/Hendrix/ Lomholt (Eds.), 18–26 Smith 1988 = R. R. R. Smith, Hellenistic Royal Portraits, Oxford Staveley 1989 = E. S. Staveley, Rome and Italy in the Early Third Century, in: Walbank/Astin/ Frederiksen/Ogilvie/Drummond (Eds.), 420–55 Steel 2013 = C. Steel, The End of the Roman Republic, 146 to 44 BC: Conquest and Crisis, Edinburgh Stein-Hölkeskamp/Hölkeskamp (Hgg.) 2006 = E. Stein-Hölkeskamp / K.-J. Hölkeskamp (Hgg.), Erinnerungsorte der Antike: Die römische Welt, München Steinby 2012 = E. M. Steinby, Edilizia pubblica e potere politico nella Roma repubblicana, Milan Stek/Pelgrom (Eds.) 2014 = T. D. Stek / J. Pelgrom (Eds.), Roman Republican Colonization. New Perspectives from Archaeology and Ancient History, Rome Stopponi 2011 = Campo della Fiera at Orvieto: new discoveries, in: De Grummond/EdlundBerry (Eds.), 16–44 Stopponi 2013 = S. Stopponi, Orvieto, Campo della Fiera – Fanum Voltumnae, in: Turfa (Ed.), 632–54 Tacoma 2016 = L. E. Tacoma, Moving Romans: Migration to Rome in the Principate, Oxford Taylor 2013 = L. R. Taylor, The Voting Districts of the Roman Republic: the Thirty-Five Urban and Rural Tribes (with updated material by J. Linderski), Ann Arbor Terrenato 2014 = N. Terrenato, Private Vis, Public Virtus. Family Agendas During the Early Roman Expansion, in: Stek/Pelgrom (Eds.), 45–59 Terrenato et al. 2012 = N. Terrenato et al., The S. Omobono Sanctuary in Rome: Assessing Eighty Years of Fieldwork and Exploring Perspectives for the Future, in: Internet Archaeology 31 Toner 2013 = J. Toner, Roman Disasters, Cambridge Torelli 1968 = M. Torelli, Il donario di M. Fulvio Flacco nell’area sacra di S. Omobono, in: Quaderni dell’Istituto di Topografia Antica dell’ Università di Roma 5, 71–76 Torelli 1977 = M. Torelli, L’area sacra di S. Omobono, in: Roma medio-repubblicana. Aspetti culturali di Roma e del Lazio nei secoli IV e III a. C., Rome, 100–04 Torelli 1984 = M. Torelli, Lavinio e Roma. Riti iniziatrici e matrimonio tra archeologia e storia, Rome Torelli 1993 = M. Torelli, Columna Maenia, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 1, 301–02 Turfa (Ed.) 2013 = J. M. Turfa (Ed.), The Etruscan World, Abingdon L’Urbs 1987 = L’urbs, espace urbain et histoire: Ier siècle av. J.-C. = IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.(Collection de l’École française de Rome 98), Rome Van der Blom 2010 = H. van der Blom, Cicero’s Role Models: the Political Strategy of a Newcomer, Oxford Viscogliosi 1993 = A. Viscogliosi, Bellona, aedes in Circo, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 1, 190–92 Von Ungern-Sternberg 2006 = J. von Ungern-Sternberg, Die gens Claudia – Adelstolz und Republik, in: Stein-Hölkeskamp/Hölkeskamp (Hgg.), 290–99 Walbank 1957 = F. W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 1, Oxford Walbank/Astin/Frederiksen/Ogilvie/Drummond (Eds.) 1989 = F. W. Walbank / A. E. Astin / M. W. Frederiksen / R. M. Ogilvie / A. Drummond (Eds.), Cambridge Ancient History, vol. VII.2, 2nd Edn., Cambridge Wallace-Hadrill 1990 = A. Wallace-Hadrill, Roman Arches and Greek Honours: the Language of Power at Rome, in: Papers of the Cambridge Philological Society n. s. 36, 143–81 Wiseman 1970 = T. P. Wiseman, Roman Republican Road-Building, in: Papers of the British School at Rome 38, 122–52

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Wiseman 1971 = T. P. Wiseman, New Men in the Roman Senate, 139 BC – AD 14, Oxford Wiseman 1979 = T. P. Wiseman, Clio’s Cosmetics: Three Studies in Greco-Roman Literature, Leicester Wiseman 1994 = T. P. Wiseman, Historiography and Imagination. Eight Essays on Roman Culture, Exeter Wiseman 1995 = T. P. Wiseman, Remus: a Roman Myth, Cambridge Wiseman 2012 = T. P. Wiseman, Popular Memory, in: Galinsky (Ed.), 43–62 Worthington 2016 = I. Worthington (Ed.), Brill’s New Jacoby Woytek 2012 = B. E. Woytek, The Denarius Coinage of the Roman Republic, in: Metcalf (Ed.), 315–34 Zevi 1999 = F. Zevi, Sepulcrum (Corneliorum) Scipionum, in: Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae 4, 281–85 Zevi 2014 = F. Zevi, ‘Giove Statore in Palatio’, in: Coates-Stephens/Cozza (Eds.), 49–61 Ziolkowski 1989 = A. Ziolkowski, The Sacra Via and the Temple of Jupiter Stator, in: Opuscula Romana 17, 225–39 Ziolkowski 1992 = A. Ziolkowski, The Temples of Mid-Republican Rome and their Historical and Topographical Context, Rome Ziolkowski 2004 = A. Ziolkowski, Sacra via: Twenty Years After, Warsaw

Hannibal’s Legacy Sovereignty and Territoriality in Republican Rome Clifford Ando (Chicago) 1. The problem What was the imperium Romanum?1 What sort of political form was the Roman empire of 200 BCE? How was it transformed, and how did theorizations of it develop, over the subsequent centuries? More pointedly, in what configuration did the practices and practicalities of government and conceptualizations of the Roman state co-constitute each other over time? I pose these questions in order to adduce three frameworks for defining the problem that this essay seeks to address. To begin with, we tend to take the Roman empire for granted.2 That is to say, the Roman empire long occupied a paradigmatic position among medieval and early modern proponents and theorists of empire, and for intellectuals in that tradition – and likewise in modern comparative study – it is usually one version of the empire, namely, a synchronic view abstracted from the empire’s condition in the developed monarchy of the second century CE, that undergirds analysis. But even bracketing Roman theorizations (on which more in a moment), in practice the Roman state underwent extraordinary transformations over this period, and these are nearly wholly occluded by such ideated views. A related occlusion is effected by the habit of visualizing premodern states by drawing borders on maps at the outermost reach of their ambitions. In point of fact, however, well into the first decades of the first century BCE, the Roman empire consisted of a patchwork of territories, nearly all with ready access to the Mediterranean. Neither the outer boundaries reached by Roman arms nor the extent of territory defined as Roman in Roman public law mapped the penetration of the Roman state, in respect either of territorial extent or of populations that were nominally under its suzerainty. If the Romans were not quite frogs 1 2

This is the title of an essay published by A. R. Lintott (1981), which was followed by a far better book (1993), yet one that remains resolutely antiquarian in its explanatory ambitions. In so writing, I allude to the claim that opened my first work in this field (Ando 2000).

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around a pond, as Plato characterized the inhabitants of the Mediterranean in his day (Pl. Phd 109b), nevertheless, within some taxonomy of empire, Rome in this period might properly be characterized as a colonial empire on land. It was only in the Augustan period (31 BCE – 14 CE) that the Romans embarked on a systematic effort to backfill what might thenceforth be called interior regions that had theretofore escaped the infrastructural reach of the Roman state, and in so doing transformed themselves into a territorial empire.3 Not coincidentally, it is in just this period that the term imperium, whence modern “empire” – and the related term provincia, “province” – firmly acquired their geographic meanings, as describing territorial units of rule (Bertrand 1989; Lintott 1993, 22–23; Richardson 2008). Before that time, imperium referred principally to a magistrate’s power of command, and provincia to a magistrate’s bailiwick; and though each might be territorially circumscribed – leading ultimately to the metonymic use of both terms for the territory in question – this was neither necessary nor primary. It is not, of course, that no awareness of this gap between ancient practice and modern analytic categories existed; nor were modern scholars unaware of the dangers of the status of their terminology as faux amis. That said, one tool that has been deployed to counterbalance this concern has been of lesser utility than one might have wished. I refer to the practice of comparison between Greek and Roman theories of politics and notions of empire, enacted via lexical study of the relevant terms of art in Greek and Latin.4 Understandings of each system of thought were no doubt thereby advanced, but the analysis of the practices and effects of rule were, I suspect, handicapped. In historical study performed as a history of ideas, the horizons of imagination are perforce defined – which is to say, delimited and ultimately constrained – by expectations inbuilt to the contexts of usage. Indeed, in my view, a comparative practice directed at other ancient empires has all too often left historians without a significant vocabulary for describing – and perhaps the percipience to grasp – the nature of the transformation that Rome underwent, or its historical significance. In pursuit of such an understanding, it is not comparison with other empires but histories and theories of the early modern and modern state that should be invoked. What is more, what is likely to shed light on the Roman context is not the theories of the state that circulated in the early modern period itself. It is not that these would be entirely unhelpful, of course, but they are diverse, precisely insofar as they reflect the distinctive history and politics of the often fractured polities that were their contexts of production.5 Normative reflection on their basis should proceed cautiously, inter alia

3 4 5

Ando/Richardson (Eds.) 2017 presents a sustained comparative inquiry into the nature of ancient states in light of Michael Mann’s work on infrastructural power. Derow 2007 is a justly famous essay of this type. Useful recent surveys of national literatures in this regard are Maissen 2010, von Friedeburg 2015, and Dauber 2016.

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because the aspirations of theorists in respect of state power in several of these polities mimicked, for complex reasons, constraints on state power in Roman antiquity. I turn instead to the multiple traditions spawned by French étatisme, for reasons that deserve careful and sustained articulation. Some of these are empirical, and concerned with the historical co-constitution of normative claims in respect of state power, on the one hand, and the technologies by which states knew their subjects, on the other.6 Others are more sociological in orientation: taking the aspirations of state power in the French tradition as normative, they seek to assess the aspirations and failures of the state’s desire to render to render the world legible (in James C. Scott’s terms), or they study the historical trajectory of relations between statal and non-statal institutions.7 Overall, what these literatures offer are frameworks within which to understand the sustained historical conjuncture of particular knowledge regimes, practices of government, and discursive systems. Such conjunctures operate in pursuit of the penetration of state institutions throughout the territory, and down through the population, that the state claims both to know and govern. The present chapter follows in this tradition by seeking to understand the relationship between particularism and abstraction in two normative systems essential to Roman government, namely, metropolitan legal language and cadastral records. I argue that these conduced systemic legitimacy by allowing the metropole the illusion of control while creating space for the interpretive work of actors on the ground. This essay contributes to on-going projects of my own in the study of language and cognition and the history of public law, as well as the utility of post-modern theories of power for premodern history.8 As regards state power, my work follows in the footsteps of several notable predecessors of disparate theoretical commitments.9 Debts of several kinds are flagged in the notes, but I should like to devote a few words at the outset to one remarkable predecessor. A. J. Toynbee published Hannibal’s Legacy in 1965, at age 76, fifty years after he had first outlined the project. An astonishing body of work in virtually every field of historical inquiry had intervened. In retirement, Toynbee returned to the book he had outlined as a fellow at Balliol College, Oxford, in 1915. By then regarded as an interloper to institutionalized ancient history, his work was greeted politely and subsequently ignored.10

6 7 8 9 10

Foucault 1991 and Foucault 2007 may stand for a tradition. Branch 2014, focusing on cartography, is particularly relevant to the argument of this essay. On mapping as a knowledge technology deeply implicated in one particular conjuncture of private and statal power see Kain/Baigent 1992. Bourdieu 2014; Scott 1998. Other relevant literatures are surveyed in Ando 2017 and Brooke/ Strauss 2018. Among recent work see esp. Ando 2011a; 2012; 2015a; 2015c; 2017, and 2018. I single out as inspirational Nicolet 1996; together with Nicolet 1991, Shaw 1984 and 1990. Brunt 1987 [1971] is the major exception: Brunt allows that his work had been nearly ready for publication in 1965 but that he had withheld and revised it in order to take account of Toynbee’s work. To my mind, Hannibal’s Legacy, together with Constantine Porphyrogenitus and his world (1973),

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Most references to Hannibal’s Legacy today simply assign Toynbee iconic status in a tradition of error in regard to the history of land use in Italy in the second century. It is of course true that Toynbee devoted considerable attention to historical patterns in the modes of land tenure and agricultural production in republican Italy, because he quite rightly believed that such matters fell solidly and essentially within any robust consideration of the history of the state. But this is not where his analysis ended, and it should surely be acknowledged that the chapter on agrarian production in the second century comprises but 96 pages, some 7 % of the book. Toynbee’s broader concern lay with the form of the Roman state, and his thesis simply stated might be that Roman hegemony in Italy prior to 264 took a specific form, distinctive both within the ancient Mediterranean and, indeed, within a history of federal structures known in the world at the time. The wars with Carthage, and Roman engagement with the Hellenistic world more generally, brought Rome into competition with states of a very different form; and in order to beat them, and in consequence of defeating them, Rome itself was transformed. In short, power existing in mimetic relation to that which it resists, through competition with Hellenistic powers, Rome itself became a Hellenistic kingdom, and yet it preserved both public law structures in Italy and republican forms of politics domestically that were more and more profoundly at odds with the scale of state power and the political economics of Mediterranean empire. Hannibal’s Legacy traces the history of this dissonance and its effects on myriad aspects of Roman social and economic relations. This is not the place to assess his achievement, but I should like at the very least to insist that one give his argument its due. It was not simple, nor is it simply falsifiable. 2. The argument This essay responds to the problematic that I have just outlined by exploring two themes. The first is the gradual crafting of a language of sovereignty, in which particular public powers (of jurisdiction, regarding fiscality, and so forth), are claimed to be operative throughout a given, bounded political space. It is on the basis of this work that there emerges a notion of Italy – and more broadly, the empire – as a territorial state. The second theme concerns the relationship between metropolitan knowledge and its objects, as they existed in the messy reality of our post-lapsarian world. My claim in respect of the first theme is that a Roman conception of sovereignty over territory was elaborated from practice, through the writing and application of statute. If Rome constitute two of the most remarkable works of Anglophone ancient history in the 20th century. The entry on Toynbee in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, written by Fergus Millar, is unusual in its appreciation of Toynbee, both in focusing so much on Toynbee’s engagement with classical studies and in doing so in such a positive vein (Millar 2008 [2004]).

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did indeed claim to legislate for its distant and heterogeneous objects of rule, then – I argue – the language of statute needed to be crafted in such a way that it neither reproduced the chaotic diversity of the world that it claimed to regulate, nor operated at such a level of abstraction as to be wholly divorced from practice. The legitimacy of the law required no less. In respect of the second theme, I suggest that the exercise of sovereignty requires knowledge of its objects. And yet, no one – and certainly not an ancient empire – can rule particulars. Abstraction in pursuit of aggregation thus existed in permanent tension with effective claims to know one’s subjects. My basic contentions will be three. First, we tend to think of states in Westphalian terms. They are both unitary and territorially bounded, and state institutions, including law-applying institutions and those of private dispute resolution, penetrate uniformly throughout the territory and down through the population. Before 80 BCE, Italy was heterogeneous in two important respects: not only was it juridically heterogeneous in respect of both land and people, there existed areas where state power was acknowledged not to penetrate. Moreover, a glance at any political map of Italy before 80 BCE reveals that parcels of land that were juridically Rome were not necessarily contiguous with other parcels that were also juridically Roman. All roads may have led to Rome, but all land did not. Indeed, to adopt a modern taxonomy, it might be useful to think of the Roman state in this period as a colonial empire on land. A notion of territoriality in respect of Roman sovereignty in Italy emerges out of this diversity through practice. In part, this claim amounts to a characterization of the surviving evidence. As a matter of chronology, the earliest evidence for the form of the Roman state in contemporaneous language survives not in theoretical claims or assertions of sovereignty as such, but in the evidence for public law enactments and civil procedure. More precisely, the earliest such text to survive at meaningful length, the Gracchan extortion law (which we might term a law on magisterial malfeasance), illustrates Rome’s awareness of the juridical heterogeneity of Italy and instantiates a fluid notion at best of the ontology of state sovereignty. As Sherwin-White among others has emphasized, the list of peoples to whom the law applies, provided in the first surviving line, commingles categories that we would have thought distinct in both public and international law, including, for example, communities that are figured as internal and external to the system of Roman public law, and parties legally bound to obey Roman commands as well as communities in relations of mere “friendship” to the Roman people (Sherwin White 1982, 19–20): [--- quoi socium no]minisue Latini exterarumue nationum, quoiue in arbitratu dicione potestate amicitiau[e populi Romani ---] (Roman Statutes no. 1,l. 1) [--- from whomever of the allies] or of the Latin name or of the foreign nations, or from whomever within the discretion, sway, power or friendship [of the Roman people ---]

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This statute also contains the earliest surviving legal fiction in a Roman text, deployed precisely to overcome just this diversity at the level of the law of persons.11 Overall, one contention of this essay will be that the conditions of possibility for imagining Italy as both unified and governed emerge to visibility in the evidence for the practice of law: in the elaboration of institutions of jurisdiction, on the one hand, and the creation of rules of procedure to render all relevant acts justiciable, on the other. Second, later Roman literary texts, which is to say, historical accounts from the later Republic and Augustan period, describe such acts of imagination in the practice of government as being first performed over subject territories that are far away (Section 3). The cases I have in mind are Livy’s account of the initial organization of Macedonia in 167 and Cicero’s description of the lex Rupilia from Sicily. The one case concerns fiscality and the other jurisdiction, but each imagines Roman sovereignty as embracing the totality of a bounded territory. Crucial to these acts of imagination and claims-making are the status of these lands as both subject and far away: in consequence, Rome could impose a normative framework through the mere exercise of power; and their distance from Rome meant that no reckoning was ever required with the very real limits on the reach of state institutions. In this light, the unification of Italy should be understood as resulting from the domestication of technologies of power and knowledge first exercised over subjects in the context of empire, henceforth to be deployed in the management of citizens in a notional republic.12 My third contention concerns the civil law. Earlier work on my topic has generally shied from detailed consideration of the sources on civil law in this period. One reason, it seems to me, derives from the ideology of the civil law, or citizen’s law, itself, and its reception. Roman sources present the civil law as a body of norms authorized by a community of citizens to regulate itself. Its legal legitimacy derives from democratic authorization: in the words of Gaius, ius civile, citizen’s law, is the body of law that a political community makes for itself; or, in the words of a classic definition, law is that which the people has ordered.13 As a related matter, the modern science of the civil law has treated it as a body of private law, concerned with narrowly social and economic relations within a citizen body. We seem a long way from empire. One ambition of

11 12 13

Roman Statutes no. 1,ll. 78–79, though in respect of these lines I prefer the text as edited by Claude Nicolet in Girard/Senn 1977, no. 7,ll. 78–79. See, inter alia, Ando 2011b, esp. 81–114; Ando 2015a, 43–44. Gai. Inst 1.1 (the opening lines are missing in ms and are quoted from Dig. 1.1.9): Omnes populi qui legibus et moribus reguntur partim suo proprio, partim communi omnium hominum iure utuntur: nam quod quisque populus ipse sibi ius constituit, id ipsius proprium est vocaturque ius civile, quasi ius proprium civitatis; quod vero naturalis ratio inter omnes homines constituit, id apud omnes populos peraeque custoditur vocaturque ius gentium, quasi quo iure omnes gentes utuntur populus itaque Romanus partim suo proprio, partim communi omnium hominum iure utitur Gell. NA 10.20.2 = Ateius Capito fr. 22 Huschke-Seckel-Kübler: Ateius Capito, publici privatique iuris peritissimus, quid ‘lex’ esset, hisce verbis definivit: ‘Lex’ inquit ‘est generale iussum populi aut plebis rogante magistratu ’

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the project of which this essay is a part, by contrast, is to reveal and explore the implication of the civil law in the project of empire.14 A principal mechanism by which alien persons and land were imagined as Roman was through the elaboration of procedural and doctrinal means for domesticating as Roman both their persons and their prior, alien norms (Section 4). In short, the civil law bequeathed by Rome to Europe was a legal system designed and developed to rule over others. No wonder the legislators of Napoleonic France, or Wilhelmine Prussia, found it so congenial. Before I commence, allow me to offer one remark on chronology. The story that I will tell is not a simple, developmental one. This is so in part because historians of the republic encounter Rome in light of contemporaneous sources hundreds of years into the project of empire. The very first Roman statute to survive in meaningful remains is a document whose language and institutional background reflects complexities simply unparalleled in any prior state of the ancient Mediterranean. The story cannot be simply developmental also because, unsurprisingly, the complexity of the state that Roman political and imperial action had brought into being generated multiple vocabularies and ways of conceiving it, and these long coexisted, many having non-overlapping utilities that defied any simple calculus of advantage and obsolescence in respect of their survival in contemporary language. 3. Sovereignty over others: Sicily & Macedon Above I suggested that Roman texts of the late Republic and Augustan period attribute to provincial contexts of the second century BCE two assertions of sovereignty over territory that enact totalizing claims to the penetration of space and population. Each presents considerable challenges to historical interpretation: beyond even the danger of anachronism, each focuses on a single aspect of rule, to wit, jurisdiction in the case of Sicily and fiscal authority in that of Macedon. What is more, Macedon was subjected to taxation but not annexed at the moment the Augustan text purports to describe. I cite them, nevertheless, in order to illustrate the way their totalizing claims are articulated. In 241, having defeated Carthage in war, Rome claimed the island of Sicily and eventually declared Sicily its first “province.”15 By this term is meant a territory alien with respect to Rome, organized largely according to indigenous norms, whose constituent communities paid taxes to Rome and which were deprived thereafter of freedom of action in foreign affairs. The territory was, moreover, nominally governed by a Roman magistrate dispatched from Rome, who had final rights of interference in local affairs. 14 15

A project of which Ando 2011b is one part. The bibliography on the term provincia and the early practice of provincial government is of course huge. For surveys see Bertrand 1989; Richardson 2008, passim; and Díaz Fernández 2015.

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However the governance of Sicily was imagined before, Cicero offers the following summary of a statute regulating jurisdiction in Sicily passed in 132 BCE16: Siculi hoc iure sunt ut, quod civis cum cive agat, domi certet suis legibus, quod Siculus cum Siculo non eiusdem civitatis, ut de eo praetor iudices ex P Rupili decreto, quod is de decem legatorum sententia statuit, quam illi legem Rupiliam vocant, sortiatur Quod privatus a populo petit aut populus a privato, senatus ex aliqua civitate qui iudicet datur, cum alternae civitates reiectae sunt … (Cic. Verr. 2.2.32) The Sicilians are subjects of law as follows: actions of a citizen with a fellow citizen are tried at home, according to their own laws. To adjudicate actions of a Sicilian with a Sicilian not of the same citizenship, the praetor should appoint a judge by lot, in accordance with the decree of Publius Rupilius, which he fixed on the recommendation of the ten legates, which decree the Sicilians call the Rupilian Law. To adjudicate suits brought by an individual against a community, or by a community against an individual, the senate of another civitas should be assigned, granting the possibility that a civitas might be rejected by each side …

Complex issues of historicity to one side, this text assigns to 132 BCE a remarkable imagining of Sicily as constituted by a network of civitates, city-states, and that network is surely intended to account for all persons and all land on the island. Even merely as a marker of what was conceptually possible, it is here, in respect of the province of Sicily, that we find a coherent and conjoined articulation of sovereigntism and territoriality. To be sure, authors contemporaneous with Cicero describe brigands living beyond the reach of the state in the highlands of Sicily.17 But the de iure claim to sovereignty over a bounded territory, relying on a specific notion of territoriality, persists altogether to one side of the de facto non-extension of state power and jurisdiction. Here, one supposes, the fact that Sicily was an island – and far from Rome – gave the theoretical claim a certain coherence and plausibility. In peninsular Italy, one might escape state control by running into the hills; one couldn’t so easily escape the island-province of Sicily. Alongside Cicero’s paraphrase of the lex Rupilia one might set Livy’s description of the organization of Macedon in book 45: there, the division of the totality of Macedon into four regiones subtends the announcement and imposition of a Roman system of taxation: When the herald had imposed silence, Paulus announced in Latin the decisions of the Senate, along with his own decisions, made on the advice of his council. The praetor Gnaeus Octavius – for he too was there – translated these announcements into Greek and conveyed them to the Macedonians. The provisions were as follows: first of all, the Mac-

16 17

For an overview of earlier work and an insightful study of the lex Rupilia see Kantor 2010. Millar 2002, 222, citing Strab. 6.2.6, with further evidence in respect of other regions.

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edonians were to be free, keeping their own cities and territories (habentis urbes easdem agrosque), enjoying their own laws, and electing annual magistrates; they were to pay to the Roman people half the tax they had paid to their kings. In the next place, Macedonia was to be divided into four districts (in quattuor regiones)… Next he announced a decisions that no one should have the right or marriage or of dealing in land or buildings outside the confines of his own district … To those whose commercial activities were interrupted by the division into districts, their country seemed cut into pieces, like an animal torn into separate parts, each of which needed the others (tamquam animali in artus alterum alterius indigentis distracto); so unaware were the Macedonians themselves of the size of Macedonia, of the ease with which it could be divided, of the self-sufficiency of each part. (Livy 45.29.3–5, 10; 45.30.2; trans. H. Bettenson)

In a fashion very similar to Sicily, Macedon is defined as a unified space through its articulation into constituent units, whose conceptual re-assembly accounts for it in totality, in pursuit of a sovereign claim of fiscal authority over the whole. My point is not to defend the historicity of the language or conceptualizations on view in these texts, but rather, first, to illustrate what a claim to sovereignty over territory might look like in Latin and, second, to remind us that nothing of the sorts exists for Italy of even a remotely similar date. The law on jurisdiction in Sicily therefore exhorts us to pose the questions: When did the Romans start to think of all of Italy as accounted for? And what conceptual resources were mobilized to substantiate that claim? 4. Sovereignty at home 4.1 Accounting for the world Roman legislation exhibits two distinct tendencies in seeking to account for the diversity of Rome’s objects of rule. The first is to offer enumerative definitions: to list the members of the category, the taxa, one by one. This is the practice exhibited in the jurisdictional law, of which a fragment is preserved on a piece of bronze now in the museum at Este: d(e) e(a) r(e) in eo municipio colonia praefectura iudicio certare (Roman Statutes no. 16, ll. 4–5) Concerning that matter, in the municipality, colony or prefecture in which he wishes the matter to be contested …

In the space governed by the law, the list “municipality, colony, prefecture” probably accounted for the two types of city recognized in public law, as well as those popula-

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tions without their own law-applying institutions, who would be serviced by a prefect. The same impulse is visible later in the text applied to jurisdictions, legal authorities and indeed types of norm: “For whatever matter, in any municipality, colony or prefecture, in respect of which jurisdiction, appointment or confirmation of any judge, arbiter or recuperator [belonged] to the duovir or to the person who was in charge of jurisdiction according to statute, treaty, plebiscite, decree of the senate, or custom …”18 Exactly the same method yields a somewhat different list in a nearly contemporaneous statute dealing with the territory that the Romans called Cisalpine Gaul, which is to say, Gaul on this side of the Alps, namely, the region between the Apennines and the Alps: “From whomever a definite amount of money shall be sued, marked with the public stamp of the Roman people, in any town, municipality, colony, prefecture, forum, village, conciliabulum, fortified hilltop or territory, which is or shall be in Cisalpine Gaul …”19 Both texts attempt to account for the world by enumerating all the types of things in the space that they regulate. The totality of Cisalpine Gaul is perceived as more diverse, and calls forth a correspondingly more complicated list. The problem, as a much later Roman jurist observed, is that there are more things in the world than there are names: plura sunt negotia quam vocabula.20 What is more, the diversity of the world was matched in many landscapes by a diversity of languages. How to craft legislation in the metropole, in Latin, when the legitimacy of legislation depends to a point on a social consensus that it gives adequate description to, and takes full account of, the world it seeks to regulate?21 One answer, of vastly greater interest in the history of law than the enumerative list, is the fiction. Latin legal language, and the civil law tradition, rapidly developed a baroque apparatus for accomplishing fictions, and their operation in jurisprudence and in private law has received some attention.22 It is less often remarked that the earliest fictions in Roman legal texts occur in statutes directed at aliens, or in those clauses of statutes concerned with them. The first I have already mentioned, in the law of 122 BCE on magisterial malfeasance. At least three more occur in a law of 111 BCE governing public lands, which treats in separate sections land in Italy and land under Roman control in North Africa. Let me quickly discuss two fictions in this text:

18 19 20 21 22

Roman Statutes no. 16,ll. 10–13: quoius rei in quoque municipio colonia praefectura quoiusue IIvir(i) eiusve, qui ibei lege foedere plebeive scito senatusve consulto institutove iure dicundo praefuit, … Roman Statutes no. 28, chapter 21,ll. 2–3: a quoquomq(ue) pecunia certa credita, signata forma p(ublica) p(opulei) R(omanei), in eorum quo o(ppido) m(unicipio) c(olonia) p(raefectura) f(oro) v(eico) c(onciliabulo) c(astello) t(erritorio)ue, quae sunt eruntue in Gallia Cisalpeina, petetur … Ulp. Ad Sabinum bk. 30 fr. 2747 Lenel = Dig. 19.5.4: Natura enim rerum conditum est, ut plura sint negotia quam vocabula. On this passage see Ando 2015a, 39–40. Ando 2015a consists in part of an exploration of this theme. The most recent survey of Roman legal fictions is Ando 2015b.

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… quibus colonieis seive moinicipieis, seive quae pro moinicipieis colon[ieisve … (lex agraria, Roman Statutes no. 2,l. 31) to whichever colonies or municipalities, or any equivalents of municipalities or colonies there may be … quoi colono eive, quei in colonei numero scriptus est … (lex agraria, Roman Statutes no. 2,l. 66) to each colonist or to each person who was enrolled among the number of colonists …

In both phrases, there are normatively sanctioned taxa: in the first, colonies and municipalities; and in the second, colonists. As regards communities, however, it is acknowledged that certain particulars deviate sufficiently from a conventional notion of the colony or municipality that they cannot, by hook or by crook, be named as such. It is likewise acknowledged that there are persons in colonies who somehow belong there but are not in fact colonists. Through logically similar substitutions, accomplished by different lexical means, the statute acknowledges this heterogeneity in surfeit of the law’s embrace, only to bring it back under the law’s control: such things as are not colonies or municipalities are to be treated as if they were; allowance is made both for colonists and for those enrolled in colonies as if they were. In this way, no specification is made by metropolitan authorities – no knowledge is demanded of them – regarding the particulars of the worlds for which they legislate: totalizing moves are made, even as interpretive power is handed off to those exercising jurisdiction on the ground. 4.2 Deixis: “Here” and “there” On my reading, the agrarian law of 111 BCE reflects an effort on the part of legislators to craft a language that respects both the right of the metropolitan power to classify the world – to impose a normative taxonomy on its objects of rule – and the demands of legal legitimacy and legal practice, to the effect that the language of the law should be felt to give appropriate and accurate description of the world. As I have stressed elsewhere, the Roman empire was enormously variegated, at the level of ecology, economy, language, and every aspect of culture, dress, and cuisine (Ando 2015a). To be governed, this world had to be described and regulated. The question was how to do this, in a fashion that gave appropriate and effective recognition to the particularity of the empire’s myriad cultural systems without reproducing within the empire’s systems of law and administration the chaotic diversity of the world it oversaw. This problem was particularly acute in laws of general application. Elsewhere, I have stressed the extraordinary frequency of distributives in Roman laws of general application, to wit, words like “each” (Ando forthcoming). Here, for example, are the surviving phrases specifying the domain of application of a law of Augustus and Agrippa

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from 27 BCE; this portion survives only in Greek, and the law concerned the treatment of sacred properties: [Εἴ] τινες δημόσιοι τόποι ἢ ἱεροὶ ἐν πόλεσ[ιν ἢ ἐν χώρᾳ] / [π]όλεως ἑκάστης ἐπαρχείας εἰσὶν εἴτε τι[νὰ ἀναθή]-/ματα τούτων τῶν τόπων εἰσὶν ἔσονταί τ[ε, μηδεὶς] / [τ]αῦτα αἰρέτω μηδὲ ἀγοραζέτω μηδὲ ἀπο[τίμημα] / ἢ δῶρον λαμβανέτω. (SEG XVIII 555, ll. 3–7; translation after R. K. Sherk) If there are any public or sacred places in the cities or in the territory of (?) city of each province (?), and if there are or will be any dedications belonging to these places, no one is to remove them or buy them or take them as collateral property or gift.

When a law is said to apply to each city-state in each province, it effectively makes a totalizing claim, equivalent to “in every city-state, in every province” or, rather, everywhere. The definition of ius civile that I cited above (n. 13) is very late example of this operation: nam quod quisque populus ipse sibi ius constituit, id ipsius proprium est vocaturque ius civile, quasi ius proprium civitatis (“for the law that each political community establishes for itself, that is peculiar to it and is called ius civile, citizen’s law, being, as it were, the law peculiar to that citizen body”). The heart of the claim lies in the correlative use of distributive and reflexive, quisque and sibi: “the law that each political community establishes for itself …” (Gai. Inst. 1.1). Another lexical-conceptual structure serving a similar function operates by means of the interpellation of the law’s addressees, as though each was the recipient of a purely bilateral communication. Consider, for example, the letters preserved on a bronze tablet found at Veleia and now housed in the Museo Nazionale di Parma: [---]co[---] [---]plebes i[---] [---]mve mue condemne[---] [---]ve non licebit aut [---] [---]m is quei ibei [---] [---]de[---] (Roman Statutes no. 29; text as preserved) [---]co[---] [---]plebes i[ure scivit ---] [--- dum ne --- que]mve {mue} condemne[t ---] [---]ve non licebit aut [---] [---du]m is quei ibei [I ---] [---]de[---] (Roman Statutes no. 29; text as restored)

As much as anything, it is the words “quei ibei” in the fifth line that identify this as a piece of late Republican legislation, written at Rome, and allow for the text’s reconstruction: for those words signal the issuing of an instruction to a local magistrate, namely,

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“he who holds jurisdiction there” (is quei ibei [ius deicet ---]). Another example may be found in the fragment of a Roman statute from Este that I quoted earlier: quoius rei in quoque municipio colonia praefectura quoiusue IIvir(i) eiusve, qui ibei lege foedere plebeive scito senatusve consulto institutove iure dicundo praefuit, … (Roman Statutes no. 16,ll. 10–13) For whatever matter, in any municipality, colony or prefecture, … in respect of whatever duovir or person who, according to statute, treaty, plebiscite, decree of the senate, or custom, was in charge of jurisdiction there …

The language of these clauses merits careful study. The form of address employed in these texts, including the use of the locative adverb “there,” with its implied “here,” constitute examples of what one might call deixis, pointing. Up to a point, the language is both bilateral and relational, and thus its dynamics can be captured by the notion of interpellation: the center – the sovereign – is unitary and addresses its objects of rule one by one, their equivalence to each other and thus their susceptibility to aggregation being achieved in a conceptually identical fashion to the use of singular distributives in the other laws of general application that I have just described. But in another sense, though the poles in the system may be relational, they are not metaphysically equivalent. In the abstract, of course, the identity of any given pair – here and there, you and I – is dependent on context. Likewise, the radical underspecification of the addressee is precisely what allows the law to apply to everyone: it points, but points everywhere; it applies to everyone but to no one specifically. In any given instance of address, however, the addressee is fixed – topographically anchored; metaphysically interpellated – by his self-awareness and materiality. The addressee knows where he is; the locus of issuance – “here” –, by contrast, is radically underdefined. The sovereign is the same, and speaks with the same efficacy, from any place within the territory it claims as its own. As many will perceive, my claims at this juncture gesture in two directions: on the one hand, to Charles Fillmore’s work on deixis (Fillmore 1997); and on the other, to “Odysseus’ Scar,” the first chapter of Auerbach’s Mimesis (Auerbach 1953). “Odysseus’ Scar” is devoted in part to a reading of Genesis 22, the sacrifice of Isaac, in comparison with select scenes in Homer. Much might be said about Auerbach’s failure to engage with the Homeric poems as religious texts. In this context I adduce, by way of a comparative gesture, the radical underspecification of details required – on Auerbach’s reading – by the overriding importance that the scriptural text grants to the metaphysical confrontation between human and god in Genesis 22. “Where are the two speakers? We are not told … Whence does he call to Abraham? We are not told … Where is [Abraham]”? Is he inside or outside the tent? Is it night or day? “We are not told.” In consequence, the Biblical narrator “was not primarily oriented toward ‘realism’ … it was oriented toward truth” (Auerbach 1953, 8, 14).

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“The Bible’s claim to truth is not only far more urgent than Homer’s, it is tyrannical – it excludes all other claims. The world of the Scripture stories is not satisfied with claiming to be historically true reality – it insists that it is the only real world, is destined for autocracy.” (Auerbach 1953, 14–15) In short, the text of the Bible makes a claim to rule – its mode of representation amounts to a Herrschaftsanspruch, a claim to absolute authority. The sovereign’s invocation of an implied “here” in order to assert an “everywhere” that is both immanent and epistatic advances, I argue, a very similar claim. In my view, this lexical-conceptual apparatus represents the birth of a significant language and metaphysics of sovereignty. This is so despite the limitations of its usage under the republic, when “here” was generally “Rome.” Potentialities are nevertheless there in the language, in statu nascendi. One possibility, to wit, that “here,” namely, the locus of issuance, might be located anywhere within the territory that the sovereign claims as its own, is actualized immediately upon the establishment of the republican monarchy, when emperors began to speak the law from wheresoever they were.23 From that point on, as Herodian said, “Rome was where the emperor was.”24 4.3 The fiction of “there” as “here” The language of “here and there” has an important correlate in civil procedure as it is ordained for far-away localities in statutes originating at Rome. In a famous account of Roman civil procedure, in the ancient textbook of Roman law by Gaius, he describes the use of a “fiction of citizenship” to resolve procedural difficulties when, for example, an alien was stopped from litigating by some rule of personality. In such cases, Gaius says, it is possible to render the matter justiciable by treating an alien as if he were a citizen (Gai. Inst. 4.37–38). One example of a fiction of this type occurs in the agrarian law of 111 BCE, and a similar fiction occurs in the final clause of the lex repetundarum, namely, in the earliest Roman statute whose wording we can claim to know in some detail.25 However, the act of imagination – or translation, if you will – required by procedural fictions is regularly far more complex, and involves far more than the juridical status of persons. Consider one enormously complicated and yet wholly typical clause from the 22nd chapter of the law on procedure and jurisdiction in Cisalpine Gaul; the chap-

23 24 25

Millar 2002, 292–313. Hdn. 1.6.5: ἐκεῖ τε ἡ Ῥώμη, ὅπου ποτ᾿ ἂν ὁ βασιλεὺς ᾖ. Lex agraria (Roman Statutes no. 2,ll. 29–31: item iudicium iudi[cem recuperatoresve ex hac lege ei et in eum dato ita utei ei] et in eum iudicium iudicem recuperatoresve ex hac lege dare oporteret, sei quis de ea re iudiciu[m postularet, quei | [ceivis Romanus esset quive a ceive Romano peteret …]. For the fiction at the close of the lex repetundarum see n. 11.

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ter treats disputes over loans of anything other than a sum of a fixed amount of money (Roman Statutes no. 28, chapter 22, formatted so as to clarify the structure): If (conditional #1) he confesses – that he ought as a matter of obligation or guilt to give, perform, provide or restore the thing that is sought from him or concerning which there is a suit against him, to the person who seeks it or sues regarding it or to the person in whose name it is sought from him or the suit is brought against him, – or that he owes the thing, – or that he has it, – or that he did the thing concerning which he is being sued, and makes that confession in a proceeding before the person who has jurisdiction there [quei ibei i(ure) d(eicundo) p(raerit)]26; [and (conditional #2) then does not give satisfaction, or make a stipulation, or make restitution, or does not appear to defend himself, or does not defend himself by an action …]; then (consequential clause), let the law, the issue, the right of action, and the suit be the same for all persons in every respect as they would apply, or as it would be appropriate for them to apply if that person … had confessed concerning these matters before the praetor at Rome or before the person who in Rome had jurisdiction over these matters … The fiction thus effects a translation not simply of persons, who might potentially be alien or Latin, across a status boundary; nor simply of the positive law framework, which is to be that of Rome or, rather, that which would apply if the case were being heard at Rome. That is the crux: it is not that the law of the Roman city-state was imposed through an act of imperial sovereignty on alien parties. It is still citizen’s law, meaning, of course, the law that Roman citizens have made for themselves. Instead, alien persons dwelling in alien polities are told to conduct their legal affairs as if they were Romans dwelling at Rome, bringing their disputes before a magistrate whom they have elected, applying law that has been democratically authorized. In short, those who are there are ordered to imagine themselves as if here. I would be remiss if I did not gesture at the irreducibly opposed tendencies in the politics of such legal fictions. In the context of empire, the fiction of citizenship effectively grants metropolitan privilege to alien subjects, but it does so by means of an erasure of their own particularity (Ando 2015b, 320; see also Ando 2016a). As regards the subject of this essay, allow me to observe that the actual fictions preserved in Roman statutes, much more than the fiction of citizenship discussed in ju-

26

There’s another “there” there. See also Roman Statutes no. 28, chapter 20,ll. 8–9 (ab eo quei ibei ius deicet …); and chapter 21,l. 4 (apud eum quei ibei i(ure) d(eicundo) p(raerit)), etc.

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risprudence, effectively employ civil procedure to create a unified jural-political space (and polity) from what remained, in public law, a heterogeneous world, which included persons who were not Roman dwelling on lands that were legally alien. 5. Drawing empire under Rome I want now to return to a problematic that I named at the start, namely, the relationship between metropolitan knowledge and its objects in the messy social reality of the landscape of empire. Thus far, I have engaged this theme in considering the ways in which legislation crafted at the center can advance authoritative classifications of social phenomena in the world at large. I want now to turn more directly to the production, codification and use of knowledge. My case study will concern boundary disputes and cadastral maps.27 The points I wish to make about cartographic thinking and practice in the Roman world are three. First, I want to illustrate a distinction between discursive accounts of boundaries as they existed in the world and the representation of cadasters in metropolitan practice. Second, I will claim that knowledge of land as property was created, affirmed and stored as knowledge in the center. Just as in respect of the law, so in respect of topographic and cadastral information, abstraction was necessary to the acts of aggregation essential to sovereignty. The material distance between the locus of (Roman) knowledge and the objects of (imperial) governance in turn justified the institutionalization of authorities possessing the techniques necessary to endow sovereign abstraction with practical efficacy. (This is the gap between metropolitan fictions and local interpretive authority to which I referred earlier, now described in other terms.) Third, awareness of this need to relate abstractions to the world generated one of the most characteristic features of Roman cadastral maps, namely, the coexistence within single frames of multiple forms of representation. 5.1 Writing and drawing cadasters Allow me start by effecting a simple contrast, between a discursive (epigraphic) record of the resolution of a boundary dispute and the most elementary representation of a cadastral grid. Here are extracts from the inscribed resolution of a boundary dispute

27

On boundary disputes between public entities see Burton 2000. Cartography in antiquity, including the productions of cadasters, has attracted less attention than it deserves, in part because no corpus of surviving cadastral maps has ever been produced, but for preliminaries see Chouquer/ Favory 1979; Chouquer/Clavel-Levêque/Favory 1982; Nicolet 1983; and Moatti 1993.

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between the Genoans and Viturians as settled by Quintus and Marcus Minucius Rufus in 117 BCE: The boundaries of the private land of the Viturians: From the lower part of the stream, which rises from the spring on Mannicelus, at the river Edus – there a boundary stone stands. Thence by the river up to the river Lemuris. Thence up the river Lemuris all the way to the stream Comberanea … Of public land that the Langenses possess the boundaries appear to be as follows … Thence straight up the ridge on the mountain Lemurinus: there a boundary stone stands in front of a hollow. (ILS 5946, ll. 6–7, 13, 15–16; translation after ARS)

Figure 1, by contrast, is the most elementary representation of a cadastral grid among the repertoire of illustrations in the manuscripts of the Roman land-surveying manuals. It is wholly artifice; it is pure abstraction.

Fig. 1 A schematic representation of a cadastral grid (from the Palatinus).

5.2 The locus of knowledge Legal decisions like that of the Minucii in respect of the dispute between the Genoans and Viturians create legal facts whose relationship to social reality is potentially precarious, all the more so when they were codified in representations of such palpable epistatic distance from the material realities they claimed to regulate. How was the relationship between the form and content of the sovereign’s knowledge and the messy stuff of social relations not simply sustained, but exploited, so as to reinforce the sovereign’s legitimacy? Several answers to this question are possible. At this juncture, I focus on one, namely, the care taken by Roman authorities to situate authoritative sources of knowledge – meaning, in this case, records of dispute resolution, archives of property holdings,

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as well as cadasters – in some broader topography of power. Roman knowledge was sought in those built environments wherein Rome situated the depersonalized institutions that instantiated sovereign power in provincial landscapes.28 These existed perforce at some physical distance from their objects of governance. The transmission of knowledge and power over the distance between the locus of Roman institutions and the objects of their regulation – rendering it efficacious on the ground, as it were – also required its translation, by means and mediation of procedures and authorities with powers of both interpretation and application. I take as a case study a decree of the procurator Lucius Helvius Agrippa, issued on 18 March 69, during the reign of Otho, regarding a boundary dispute between the Patulcenses and Galillenses, two otherwise unknown peoples of Sardinia (ILS 5947). In his decision in 69, Agrippa notes that the case began with hearings before Marcus Juventius Rixa, proconsul of Sardinia in 67, and continued with hearings before Caecilius Simplex, proconsul in 68. In the hearings in 68, the Galillenses said that they would bring a tablet relevant to the matter from the tabularium principis, the emperor’s record-house, for the retrieval of which the proconsul granted a delay of three months, on the grounds that it is “humane that a delay be granted for proof.” However, “if the forma, the map, had not been brought by then, he would follow the one that was in the province.”29 A public law hierarchy that situated local and imperial authorities in metaphysical relation to each other was thus also instantiated in space, in the distances that stretched from the locus of the dispute to Carales, the seat of the procurator, and thence to Rome itself. What is more, the Roman documents that served as final or ultimate sources of knowledge observed an identical relationship in both authority and distribution in space, but their view was from the seat of power across the landscape of empire. 5.3 Drawing empire My story might simply have ended in the permanent existence of parallel worlds, one of sovereign abstractions recorded in the metropole, and the other of local narratives resulting from what the Romans called a demonstratio finium, a walking of the boundaries. But in this case as in others, imperatives toward abstraction in pursuit of aggregation and power clashed with tendencies toward empiricism and the world, and the result in respect of cartography was the birth of a mode of map-making that integrated highly distinctive modes of representation. Allow me to illustrate.

28 29

My language at this juncture is indebted to Brent Shaw. ILS 5947,ll. 14–17: [C]um … et post ea Caecilius Simplex vir clarissimus ex eadem caus{s}a a Galillensibus dicentibus tabulam se ad eam rem pertinentem ex tabulario principis adlaturos pronuntiaverit humanum esse dilationem probationi dari et in K(alendas) Decembres trium mens(i)um spatium dederit intra quam diem nisi forma allata esset se eam quae in provincia esset secuturum

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With the most basic form of a Roman cadastral grid in mind (Figure 1), a brief survey of maps reproduced in the manuscripts of the Roman landsurveyors reveals that these could, in various ways, combine schematic, iconographic and figurative forms of representation within a single frame. Figure 2, for example, is a drawing of an ideal-typical city and its hinterland: an icon for a city is overlaid on a schema of a cadastral grid. Similarly, in figure 3, an icon for a city is situated somewhat problematically adjacent to the intersection of kardo and decumanus maximus, with an icon for a river iconically disturbing the schema of the grid.

Fig. 2 An icon for a city in an idealized relation to the rural grid.

Fig. 3 An icon for a city, with schema for the cadastral grid, with an icon for a river.

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Figure 4 presents a bird’s eye view of Minturnae. The irregular shape of the city wall is, I suspect, an attempt at a figurative rendering of the city itself. Alongside, on the left of the image, sit icons for built interventions in the periurban landscape, without, I observe, any attempt to render the residential suburbium, while on the right is a schema of the cadastral grid. Figure; icon; schema.

Fig. 4 A bird’s eye view of Minturnae (from the Palatinus).

Thus far I have studied a sequence of images derived from the two manuscripts that transmit the corpus of Roman land-surveying treatises. But lest one dismiss the system of representation in which they participate as a purely scholarly or narrowly technical one, one should recall that there also survive fragments of publicly-displayed cadasters, mostly famous, that from the Roman colony at Arausio (figure 5). In this case, the map was created after a new survey was conducted under the Flavians, and the map was inscribed and publicly displayed in the colony, the representation claiming at once knowledge of, and power over, the lands and peoples that were administratively subordinated to the Roman city. Here, too, an abstract schema and system of number is overlaid on the world, whose messiness, in the form of rivers that refuse to run straight, is visible through the grid.

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Fig. 5 A fragment of the inscribed cadaster from the Flavian survey of the Roman colony of Arausio.

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6. Conclusion In conclusion, I offer three reflections, one about the history of law, as well as the history that the law tells itself; one about government; and one about sovereignty and empire. At the close of the Roman Republic, two centuries after the creation of Rome’s first province from the island of Sicily, the Roman state in peninsular Italy comprised newly enfranchised communities of aliens, as well as communities of citizens incorporated as municipalities at considerable remove from Rome.30 This was at least partially the result of incremental change, but it resulted, too, from the revolutionary outcome of the so-called Social War, fought between Rome and its “allies” – its socii, hence, ultimately, the name, bellum sociale – between 90–88 BCE. Rome’s allies, who were alien in respect of Rome in both public and private law, had grown increasingly angry that the fruits of the empire that they had helped to win were asymmetrically distributed, as was control over what was effectively a unified foreign policy. Contemporaneous evidence is lacking, but in later representations, they demanded either an end to the alliance or full enfranchisement in the Roman state. Rome chose war, but in a sequence of events too complex for quick narration and too tragic for summary, after spectacular bloodshed, it conceded as victor what it had declined to grant as hegemon. Overnight, as a matter of legal fact, the formerly alien city-states of Italy were re-created as Roman municipalities; and their citizens became Roman citizens. It is often theorized that Rome in this period observed a rule of personality in choice of law (Ando 2016b). To the extent that this was true, the communities of Italy henceforth being communities of Roman citizens, the citizens of these localities should have observed Roman private law – ius civile, Roman citizen’s law – in their social and economic relations. Nevertheless, in both ancient sources and modern scholarship, what is stressed is the operation of a newly-discovered public law doctrine of municipal autonomy, according to which (it is averred), the residents of municipalities, though they were Roman citizens, might largely craft a local private law for themselves.31 At a 30 31

On the process by which communities in Italy were reconfigured as Roman-style municipalities, not least at the level of public law, see Humbert 1978 and Bispham 2007. A chief source for the problem is the Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius, written in the mid-second century CE, who also cites a speech of the emperor Hadrian on the issue. A caution is in order, however, as both Hadrian and Gellius avowedly write for a contemporary audience that had ceased to understand the distinction between colonies, who in Roman law remained subsidiary constituents of the Roman state, without neither full magistrates nor laws of their own, and so-called municipia, municipalities, which used their own laws. “With regard to the errors in this opinion … the deified Hadrian, in the speech that he delivered in the senate On behalf of the Italicenses, from whom he himself came, discoursed most learnedly, showing his surprise that the Italicances themselves … when they might enjoy their own customs and laws (cum suis moribus legibusque uti possent), desired instead to have the rights of colonies … Municipes (citizens of municipalities), then, are Roman citizens from free towns, using their own laws and enjoying their own rights (legibus suis et suo

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substantive level, it must be confessed that we have nearly no idea what effect this had. (Despite the place the doctrine occupies in ancient ideology and modern histories of Roman public law, no meaningful content whatsoever is ever attributed to any body of municipal private law anywhere in the empire over the entirety of its history.32) As a practical matter, the concession of autonomy must be an expression of the limits of state infrastructrural power and likewise of the limits of the technologies of communication. Direct governance and true integration were simply impossible. The doctrine of municipal autonomy is also an expression of the history of many such communities, that they were once alien and had become Roman overnight by statutory enactment. The suddenness and violence of their transformation required that means be crafted to allow for the continuing legality of pre-Roman (which is to say, non-Roman) forms of contract and social relations. The diversity of the world in the aftermath of the grant of citizenship was thus explained at a normative level as arising from local autonomy, but as an historical matter, it was a product of empire and ultimately war – a war that the Romans had largely lost, else the aliens would not have acquired citizenship and citizen privilege. “Local autonomy” thus became a normative principle in the civil law tradition as the result of its use as a fig-leaf: it explained the world as it was, in a fashion that evoked, but did not name, a past they could not speak. Regarding government, I suggest the Romans came to conceive of the empire as a bounded and unified political space not in consequence of military action, or the exercise of force or even mere hegemony. It was, rather, the exercise of fiscal power and the extension of jurisdiction – the governance of populations and mapping of territory and the elaboration of state infrastructural power at a domestic level – that brought that understanding into being. On my reading, therefore, the history of Roman conceptions of sovereignty exist in a status of prolepsis in respect of those operative in early modern France. About sovereignty and empire, my argument might be summarized as follows. Empire as both concept and form was not an a priori unity later broken down into subunits called “provinces”; it was constructed a posteriori from them. The province was the laboratory for which the Romans first crafted both language and institutions that imagined – and later enacted – the extension of state authority uniformly throughout a territory and down through its population. (Of course, local consent to the normative

32

iure utentes), merely sharing with the Roman people an honorary privilege … But the relationship of the colonies is a different one, for they do not come into citizenship from without, nor grow from roots of their own, but they are as it were transplanted from the State and have all the laws and institutions of the Roman people, not those of their own choice (et iura institutaque omnia populi Romani, non sui arbitrii, habent)” (Gell. 16.13.4, 6, 8; trans. Rolfe). Please note: I refer here specifically to the positive law narrowly of municipia. Specific content is cited from bodies of indigenous and epichoric law in communities under Roman rule in the eastern Mediterranean.

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power of metropolitan language and legislation was a principal means by which the successful extension of state authority was in practice secured.) Finally, the repatriation of such concepts and language for use in the governing of Italy should be set alongside the history of institutions as diverse as the prefecture, the concept of maiestas, and perhaps cognitio as a form of civil procedure: each amounted to the domestication of technologies of power first exercised over subjects in the context of empire, henceforth to be deployed in the management of citizens in a notional republic.33 List of illustrations Fig. 1: A schematic representation of a cadastral grid. After Lachmann/Rudoff (Eds.) 1848, pl. 12 fig. 132 (from the Palatinus) Fig. 2: An icon for a city in an idealized relation to the rural grid. After the Codex Arcerianus f. 62v Fig. 3: An icon for a city, with schema for the cadastral grid, with an icon for a river. After Lachmann/Rudoff (Eds.) 1848, pl. 15, fig. 151 Fig. 4: A bird’s eye view of Minturnae. After Lachmann/Rudoff (Eds.) 1848, pl. 15, fig. 150, (from the Palatinus) Fig. 5: A fragment of the inscribed cadaster from the Flavian survey of the Roman colony of Arausio. After Piganiol 1962, pl. 20 Bibliography Ando 2000 = C. Ando, Imperial Ideology and Provincial Loyalty in the Roman Empire, Berkeley Ando 2011a = C. Ando, Law and the Landscape of Empire, in: Benoist/Daguey-Gagey/Hoët-van Cauwenberghe (Eds.), 25–47 Ando 2011b = C. Ando, Law, Language and Empire in the Roman Tradition, Philadelphia Ando 2012 = C. Ando, Empire, State and Communicative Action, in: Kuhn (Hg.), 219–29 Ando 2015a = C. Ando, Roman Social Imaginaries. Language and Thought in Contexts of Empire, Toronto Ando 2015b = C. Ando, Fact, Fiction and Social Reality in Roman Law, in: del Mar/Twining (Eds.), 295–323 Ando 2015c = C. Ando, La forme canonique de l’empire antique: le cas de l’empire romain, Ius Politicum 14: http://juspoliticum.com Ando 2016a = C. Ando, Colonialism, Colonization: Roman Perspectives, in: Selden/Vasunia (Eds.), DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199699445.013.4 Ando 2016b = C. Ando, Legal Pluralism in Practice, in: du Plessis/Ando/Tuori (Eds.), 283–93

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On maiestas see Ando 2011, esp. 103–107; on the prefecture, Ando 2015a, 43–45.

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Ando 2017 = C. Ando, Introduction: States and State Power in Antiquity, in: Ando/Richardson (Eds.), 1–16 Ando 2018 = C. Ando, Empire as State: the Roman Case, in: Brooke/Anderson/Strauss (Eds.), 175–89 Ando forthcoming = C. Ando, Petition and Response, Order and Obey: Contemporary Models of Roman Government, in: Jursa/Procházka (Eds.) Ando/Richardson (Eds.) 2017 = C. Ando / S. Richardson (Eds.), Ancient States and Infrastructural Power. Europe, Asia and America, Philadelphia ARS 1961= A. C. Johnson / P. R. Coleman-Norton / F. C. Bourne, Ancient Roman Statutes, Austin Auerbach 1953 = E. Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, translated by W. R. Trask, Princeton Benoist/Daguey-Gagey/Hoët-van Cauwenberghe (Eds.) 2011 = S. Benoist / A. DagueyGagey / C. Hoët-van Cauwenberghe (Eds.), Figures d’empire, fragments de mémoire. Pouvoirs et identités dans le monde romain impérial (IIe s. av. n. è. – VIe s. de n. è.), Paris Bertrand 1989 = J.-M. Bertrand, À propos du mot provincia, in: Journal des Savants 1989, 191–215 Bispham 2007 = E. Bispham, From Asculum to Actium. The municipalization of Italy from the Social War to Augustus, Oxford Bourdieu 2014 = P. Bourdieu, On the state. Lectures at the Collège de France, 1989–1992, Cambridge Branch 2014 = J. Branch, The Cartographic State. Maps, Territory, and the Origins of Sovereignty, Cambridge Brooke/Anderson/Strauss (Eds.) 2018 = J. L. Brooke / G. Anderson / J. C. Strauss (Eds.), State Formations: Histories and Cultures of Statehood, Cambridge Brooke/Strauss 2018 = J. L. Brooke / J. C. Strauss, Introduction: Approaches to state formations, in: Brooke/Anderson/Strauss (Eds.), 1–21 Brunt 1987 [1971] = P. A. Brunt, Italian Manpower 225 B. C. – A. D. 14, 2nd Edn., Oxford Burchell/Gordon/Miller (Eds.) 1991 = G. Burchell / C. Gordon / P. Miller (Eds.), The Foucault Effect. Studies in Governmentality, Chicago Burton 2000 = G. P. Burton, The Resolution of Territorial Disputes in the Provinces of the Roman Empire, in: Chiron 30, 195–215 Chouquer/Clavel-Levêque/Favory 1982 = G. Chouquer / M. Clavel-Levêque / F. Favory, Cadastres, occupation du sol et paysages agraires antiques, in: Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations 37, 847–82 Chouquer/Favory 1979 = G. Chouquer / F. Favory, Contribution à la recherche des cadastres antiques. Annales littéraires de l’Université de Besançon 236, Paris: Les Belles Lettres Dauber 2016 = N. Dauber, State and Commonwealth: The Theory of the State in Early Modern England, 1549–1640, Princeton del Mar/Twining (Eds.) 2015 = M. del Mar / W. Twining (Eds.), Legal Fictions in Theory and Practice, Boston Derow 2007 = P. Derow, Imperium, Imperial Space and Empire, in: Santos Yanguas/Terregaray Pagola (Eds.), 13–22 Díaz Fernández 2015 = A. Díaz Fernández, Provincia et Imperium: el mando provincial en la República romana (227–44 a. C.), Sevilla du Plessis/Ando/Tuori (Eds.) 2016 = P. du Plessis / C. Ando / K. Tuori (Eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Roman Law and Society, Oxford Fillmore 1997 = C. J. Fillmore, Lectures on Deixis, Stanford Foucault 1991 = M. Foucault, Governmentality, in: Burchell/Gordon/Miller (Eds.), 87–104

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Foucault 2007 = M. Foucault, Security, Territory, Population. Lectures at the Collège de France 1977–1978, translated by G. Burchell, edited by M. Senellart, New York Girard/Senn (Eds.) 1977 = P. F. Girard / F. Senn (Eds.), Les lois des Romains, Naples Humbert 1978 = M. Humbert, Municipium et civitas sine suffragio. L’Organisation de la conquête jusqu’à la guerre sociale, Rome Jursa/Procházka (Eds.) forthcoming = M. Jursa / S. Prochazka (Eds.), Governing Ancient Empires. Proceedings of the 3rd to 5th International Conferences of the Research Network Imperium and Officium, Vienna Kain/Baigent 1992 = R. J. P. Kain / E. Baigent, The Cadastral Map in the Service of the State. A History of Property Mapping, Chicago Kantor 2010 = G. Kantor, Siculus cum Siculo non eiusdem ciuitatis: Litigation Between Citizens of Different Communities in the Verrines, in: Cahiers du Centre Gustave Glotz 19, 187–204 Kuhn (Hg.) 2012 = C. Kuhn (Hg.), Politische Kommunikation und öffentliche Meinung in der antiken Welt, Stuttgart Lachmann/Rudoff (Eds.) 1848 = K. Lachmann / A. Rudoff (Eds.), Die Schriften der römischen Feldmesser, vol. I, Berlin Lintott 1981 = A. R. Lintott, What was the ‘Imperium Romanum’?, in: Greece & Rome 28, 53–67 Lintott 1993 = A. R. Lintott, Imperium Romanum, London Maissen 2010 = T. Maissen, Why did the Swiss miss the Machiavellian Moment? History, Myth, Imperial and Constitutional Law in the Early Modern Swiss Confederation, in: Republics of Letters 2.1, 105–20 Millar 2002 = F. Millar, Rome, the Greek World, and the East, vol. 1: The Roman Republic and the Augustan Revolution, edited by H. M. Cotton / G. M. Rogers, Chapel Hill Millar 2008 [2004] = F. Millar, Toynbee, Arnold Joseph (1889–1975), in: Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford, Online edition 2008, http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/ article/31769, accessed 20 Dec 2016. Moatti 1993 = C. Moatti, Archives et partage de la terre dans le monde romain (IIe siècle avent – Ier siècle après J.-C.), Rome Nicolet 1983 = C. Nicolet, Pratiques impérialistes et implantations cadastrales, in: Ktema 8, 163–73 Nicolet 1991 = C. Nicolet, Space, Geography and Politics in the Early Roman Empire, Ann Arbor Nicolet 1996 = C. Nicolet, Financial Documents and Geographical Knowledge in the Roman World, Oxford Piganiol 1962 = A. Piganiol, Les documents cadastraux de la colonie romaine d’Orange, Paris Richardson 2008 = J. Richardson, The Language of Empire. Rome and the Idea of Empire from the Third Century BC to the Second Century AD, Cambridge Roman Statutes 1996 = M. H. Crawford (Ed.), Roman Statutes, London Santos Yanguas/Terregaray Pagola (Eds.) 2007 = J. Santos Yanguas / E. Terregaray Pagola (Eds.), Laudes Provinciarum: Retórica y política en la representacíon del imperio romano, Vitoria-Gasteiz Scott 1998 = J. C. Scott, Seeing like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition have failed, New Haven Selden/Vasunia (Eds.) 2016 = D. L. Selden / P. Vasunia (Eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Literatures of the Roman Empire, Oxford, select articles published online Shaw 1984 = B. Shaw, Bandits in the Roman Empire, Past & Present 105, 5–52 Shaw 1990 = B. Shaw, Bandit Highlands and Lowland Peace: the Mountains of Isauria-Cilicia, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 33, 199–233, 237–70 Sherwin-White 1982 = A. N. Sherwin-White, The Lex Repetundarum and the Political Ideas of Gaius Gracchus, in: Journal of Roman Studies 72, 13–31

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Toynbee 1965 = A. J. Toynbee, Hannibal’s Legacy. The Hannibalic War’s effects on Roman Life, Oxford von Friedeburg 2015 = R. von Friedeburg, Luther‘s Legacy. The Thirty Years War and the Modern Notion of ‘State’ in the Empire, 1530s to 1790s, Cambridge

II. Before Roman Italy Territories and Societies, 201–91 BC

The Expansion of the Citizenship and Roman Elite Interests in Regional Italy, c. 200–91 BC A Structural Perspective* Roman Roth (Cape Town) 1. Introduction At the end of an equally remarkable as textually corrupt chapter, Livy reports for the year 174 BC a dispute between the censors about the construction of buildings and infrastructure in several citizen communities across Italy.1 Against the wishes of A. Postumius Albinus, his colleague Q. Fulvius Flaccus ordered for public money to be disbursed for building activity conducted in Pisaurum, Fundi, Potentia and Sinuessa, thus earning him the gratitude of the local populations.2 Postumius’ stated objection *

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2

This chapter differs significantly from the paper presented at the conference. There, I exclusively focused on several questions of settlement hierarchies, to which I return in the final section of this contribution. I would like to thank the Alexander-von-Humboldt Foundation for its generous support of the Cologne meeting, and for awarding me the fellowship that enabled me to conduct research for this chapter. I am grateful to John Patterson for reading an earlier draft, and for making several valuable comments and suggestions which I have incorporated into this final version. I am entirely responsible for any shortcomings that might remain. Livy 41.27.10–13. I follow Briscoe’s 1986 edition of the text. The textual problems cause no interference with my argument here. However, I should like to note that the magalia constructed at Sinuessa may have been round enclosures of some substance, which makes more sense in relation to public urban architecture than would translating them as ‘huts’ (Livy 41.27.12, with Briscoe 2012, 144). The reading magalia is strongly supported by Cassius Hemina FRHist 6 F39 (= Serv. Aen 1.421) who also mentions that a ‘murus’ was built around those structures. This would be suitable in the case of substantial urban structures, an interpretation which is permitted by Cato’s definition of magalia in the Origines (FRHist 5 F84b = Serv. Aen 1. 421). haec ab uno censore opera locata cum magna gratia colonorum (Livy 41.27.13). Colonorum is incorrectly used here since recently enfranchised Fundi was not a colony; rather, all four towns were settlements of Roman citizen status; cf. Briscoe 2012, 145 Still, the passage arguably comments – albeit indirectly – on the establishment of citizen colonies in Italy, which should be seen as a significant factor in the structural transformation of Roman Italy during the second century BC (see below). Postumius did not object to money being spent on comparable construction work in the

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was to the spending of public money without the authorisation of the Senate or the Roman people.3 Yet, on a more fundamental level, the dispute concerned a much graver issue, namely the extent to which Roman magistrates in their official capacity should attach their names to the embellishment of citizen settlements across Italy. One of the reasons why this was controversial, as implied by Livy, could have been the potential advantage which a political rival might gain over another if by spending public money he could style himself as a benefactor of local communities. Such interest in gaining support among Roman citizens on the periphery might be seen in the light of ambitus amongst the rural tribes, which had been recognised as a problem since the passing of the lex Poetilia in 358 BC.4 As we shall see, there is in fact some evidence for an increasing significance of regional electorates within Roman politics during the second century BC, and this might go some way to explain why established members of the nobility extended their munificence towards local communities, often using the state’s money. Yet reducing the censorial dispute of 174 BC to the sphere of political competition would be to sell short its potential value – when read in conjunction with parallel evidence – in highlighting the increasing importance of peripheral citizen communities in the eyes of the Roman elite.5 In fact, the passage introduces several issues that are central to understanding the development of regional citizen communities in relation to wider socio-economic and political developments. These include, first, the considerable growth and geographical expansion of citizen settlement in the Apennine peninsula after the Hannibalic War, represented in our text by the recently established colonies of Pisaurum and Potentia (184 BC). Second, the passage corroborates other evidence for an increase in public construction in regional citizen communities, both existing (such as Auximum, Calatia, Fundi and Sinuessa) and new (like Pisaurum and Potentia), on the initiative of individual members of the senatorial aristocracy, as well as of local elites. Third, while the passage might offer an oblique reference to the in-

3 4 5

fora of Calatia and Auximum, apparently because the funds for those two projects had been raised through the sale of public land attached to the two communities (venditisque ibi publicis locis pecuniam, quae redacta erat, tabernis utrique foro circumdandis consumpserunt [Livy 41.27.10]). On the status of Auximum, see my note 22 below. Incidentally, not all of Fulvius’ architectural interventions in regional citizen communities were constructive in nature, as shown by the sacrilegious despoiling of the temple roof of Juno Lacinia in the territory of Croton, which he ordered in 173 BC (or perhaps later in 174 BC): Livy 42.3, with Briscoe 2012, 158–163; cf. Bispham 2007, 135; Roth 2019, esp. 142–146. “nam Postumius nihil nisi senatus Romani populive iussu se locaturum edixit” (Livy 41.27.11). Livy 7.15.12–13. Unless otherwise specified, by ‘elites’ I am referring to both senatorial order and the first class, whose proximity to each other in economic terms is rightly highlighted by Rosenstein 2008. However, it is worth noting that the emergence of the Equestrian order in its late Republican guise was closely related to the extension of the citizen population and specifically of the elite, which I discuss here.

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creasing importance of regional electorates, it also invites us to look for other factors that motivated wealthy citizens to invest in the Italian regions, evidence for which is by no means restricted to urban munificence. My aim in this chapter is to discuss those three issues as interlinked. Together, they brought about an increasingly systematic integration of regional affairs within the structure of elite interests and agency over the course of the second century BC. Recent years have seen a renewed interest in the status of allied polities in relation to Rome. By contrast, the related subject of citizen settlements before the municipalisation post-89 BC has not received the amount of attention it deserves.6 Yet, the status of regional settlements – i e whether or not they were inhabited by citizens – had begun to emerge as a matter of political debate around a century earlier.7 In addition, it is impossible to believe that the solutions which we see being implemented after the Social War did not draw on the developments of the second century. This should be true not only at the level of political institutions but also in terms of the increasing integration of socio-economic networks across the Italian peninsula during the final phase of the Republic.8 Here, I seek to explore these observations further by looking at two aspects of citizen settlement in Italy during the second century. These are, first, the expansion of citizen settlement, through colonisation as well as through the incorporation of non-citizen municipia and by other mechanisms; and, second, the role played in this by members of the Roman elite, with a particular focus on the subject of public building. In the subsequent section, I discuss this evidence in relation to a progressive convergence of central and peripheral structures of agency and interests within the Roman citizenship.

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But cf. now the discussion by Gargola 2017, esp. 95–99, 109–118, who argues for minimal coordination between the Roman centre and the administration of citizen communities in Italy outside Rome before the Social War. Brunt 1971, esp. 524–535 and Sherwin White 1973 remain fundamental; for a recent summary of the evidence, cf. Bispham 2007, 95–112. The importance of second-century citizen colonisation in the emergence of a distinctly Roman Italy is rightly stressed by Maschek 2018; cf. also Tweedie 2011, who argues for an increasing inclusion of Roman allies (as military veterans) in these schemes. The technical aspects of citizen government in Italy largely lie outside my discussion which focuses on structural aspects of the integration of centre and periphery. It suffices here to mention the senatorial debate over the status of Aquileia in 181 BC (Livy 39.55.5– 6), and the controversy surrounding the enfranchisement of three municipia in 188 BC (Livy 38.36.7–9). Cf. the chapters by Sema Karataş and Federico Santangelo in this volume.

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2. The Expansion and Formalisation of Citizen Settlement The settlement of Roman citizens, nota bene, as Roman citizens in Italy arguably reached unprecedented levels in the quarter-century after the Hannibalic War.9 This applies most clearly to the sending out of colonies, for which the period after 200 BC poses a number of interesting questions that set it apart from Rome’s settlement policies down to 218 BC.10 Two of them – namely the status and size of the majority of urban colonies founded – are of considerable interest in the context of the present discussion. Most of the earlier colonies known to us had been of Latin status, certainly in those cases in which large numbers of colonists had been involved and permanent settlements resulted. This changed in the period following the Hannibalic War: the great majority of new colonies – 15 of 19 securely documented examples – were constituted as settlements of Roman citizens. Several of these involved large numbers of colonists – equivalent to those of earlier Latin colonies – even though the significance of this should not be overestimated.11 We have, in fact, already encountered two such 9

10 11

Cf. Scheidel 2004, 12, table 1 (based on Livy’s figures). Expansion of the citizenship through human mobility will have been stepped up further in the wake of the Gracchan reforms at the end of the period under discussion, which I do not specifically address here; cf. Tweedie 2011, and now Maschek 2018. Isayev’s 2017 study of mobility is not primarily concerned with the civic status of those who moved. On the difficulties of establishing how many Roman citizens permanently settled on re-distributed ager publicus in the late second century, see Roselaar 2010. The year in which Cremona and Placentia were founded as Latin colonies. For an incisive analysis of the changing character of Rome’s colonisation in Italy over time, see now Bradley 2014; cf. also Crawford 2014; Bispham 2006; and the contributions to Stek/Pelgrom 2014. The four Latin colonies were: Copia, Vibo Valentia (both 194 BC; Livy 34.53.1–2), Bononia (189 BC; Livy 37.57.7–8) and Aquileia (181 BC: Livy 39.34.2–3). This represents a remarkable shift, and the resultant increase in the size and geographical spread of the regional citizen population is deserving of historical investigation. By contrast, I see little point in Salmon’s 1969 subdivision of the second-century citizen colonies into old-style and new-style types. This may be anachronistic and bears absolutely no reflection on the subsequent history of those settlements, as already pointed out by v. Hesberg 1985 from an archaeological perspective. Certainly, the figures Livy provides for individual plot sizes and the number of colonists settled do not support Salmon’s model. For the colonies founded in 194 BC, Livy nowhere mentions the sizes of the plots assigned individually, and gives the number of colonists in only three cases: Puteoli, Volturnum and Liternum (Livy 34.45.1–5; cf. above). The conventional wisdom that the other five – Salernum, Buxentum, Sipontum, Croton and Tempsa – received the same number of settlers, and that the sizes of the allotments were in all cases small (two iugera), amounts to no more than conjecture. It is moreover based on the hypothesis that those eight colonies followed the template of their mid-Republican predecessors which are themselves problematic, to say the least (Salmon 1969, 97–98; cf. Bispham 2006; Crawford 2014). Similarly, the citizen colonies founded from 184 BC have in common only that their individual plot sizes were larger than two iugera, yet this provides a meaningful measure only if geographical positions and soil conditions are taken into the equation. Larger plots were assigned at: Pisaurum and Potentia in 184 BC (six iugera per settler, number of colonists not specified; Livy 39.44.9–10); Saturnia in 183 BC (ten iugera per settler, number of colonists not specified; Livy 39.55.6–9) and Graviscae in 179 BC (five iugera per settler, number of colonists not specified; Livy 40.29.1–2). Large numbers of colonists and sizeable plots are attested for: Parma (eight iugera per colonist, 2000 colonists) and Mutina (five iugera per colonist, 2000 colonists) in 179 BC; and

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citizen colonies, namely Pisaurum and Potentia both of which featured in the censorial disagreement of 174 BC. The conventional explanation given for this remarkable change is as plausible as it is unsatisfactory, citing the unwillingness of sufficient numbers of Roman citizens to surrender their status in return for a sizeable plot of land.12 Following the increasingly high-handed attitude shown by Rome towards her allies – notably including those of Latin status – it is hardly surprising that Latin status no longer represented an attractive option, neither to Roman citizens nor to the allies from amongst many mid-Republican colonists would have originated.13 Not only new Latin colonies like Bononia were struggling to find volunteers; established foun-

12

13

for Luna in 177 BC (51.5 iugera per colonist, 2000 colonists; Livy 41.13.4–5; cf. Rosenstein 2008, 10, with the contrasting view of Salmon 1969, 109, n. 193, who emends Livy’s admittedly high figure of quinquagena et singula iugera et semisses to 6.5 iugera). As in the case of second-century Latin colonies, one would expect settlers belonging to higher census classes to have obtained multiples of the basic plot sizes; e. g., Livy 37.57.8 (Bononia); Livy 40.34.2 (Aquileia); from an archaeological perspective, cf. Fentress 2000. The value attached to the Roman citizenship had considerably grown during the second half of the third century. While those belonging to higher census groups must earlier have been prepared to exchange their citizenship for elevated status in Latin colonies, certainly by the end of the Hannibalic War this had ceased to be an attractive option. Especially for the period before the Gracchan reforms, it is important not to underestimate the significant role that must have been played by members of the higher census classes in Roman colonisation. Only they are likely to have qualified for lectio to the local senates or councils. Citizen communities clearly had such institutions: we know this both from first-hand evidence – for the case of Puteoli (CIL X 1781 = ILLRP 518; see my discussion below – but can also infer it from other cases, such as the border dispute between Pisa and the citizen colony of Luna in 168 BC (Liv. 45.13.10–11) which the Roman Senate adjudicated in the same way as it would have dealt with a matter between two independent allied communities. This surely presupposes the existence of a local council. We furthermore know that a duovirate had been established at Luna by the end of the second century BC (CIL I2 3368; cf. Boos 2011, 178), which lends additional support to the existence of a local council or senate. Some citizen communities clearly had public areas – specifically fora – where political functions could be exercised: this is shown both by the Livy passage discussed at the outset (esp. Livy 41.27.13) and by archaeological evidence; see Lackner 2008; and now Gargola 2017, 174–175; but cf. Gros and Torelli 1988 for a more sceptical view. Boos (this volume) suggests that citizen colonies founded before the second century BC were initially designed without fora. These were in some cases – as at Minturnae – added during the second century BC while this had to wait until the Augustan period in others, such as Ostia. Maltreatment of allies by Roman magistrates: Roth 2019, with extensive references; Roselaar in this volume. On Latin participation in citizen colonies, cf. Roselaar 2011. In friendly disagreement with her, I think that other socii were also permitted to take part in such settlement schemes from time to time, especially when too few volunteers of Roman and Latin status could be found, as was apparently the case during the second century. The distribution of land may furthermore have been an important way of ensuring allied loyalty at a time of increasing frictions between them and the Roman hegemon. As happened in at least one case of second-century viritane assignation, however, colonists from allied communities may have received smaller plots of land than did their Roman counterparts; Livy 42.4.3–4. I do not follow Briscoe’s 2012, 164 view according to which sociis nominis Latini meant “probably only Latins”’ here. Elsewhere, Briscoe views Livy’s use of “socii ac nomen Latinum and socii nominis Latini” as interchangeable phrases (e g , Briscoe 1973, 77–78 ad 31.8.7; idem 2008, 216–217 ad 39.3.4–6).

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dations such as Cosa and Narnia also needed new bodies yet received assistance from a reluctant Roman Senate only after special pleading.14 Yet such an essentially negative explanation for a remarkable change fails to account for the factors that positively motivated Roman citizens to move into some parts of the peninsula, and thus into positions in which they were removed from political participation in the urbs.15 This would have been of especial concern to those among the colonists who would form the elite within the newly founded settlements, and who were drawn from the higher census classes. By joining the colonial endeavour they were at least temporarily cut off from being able to engage in public life at Rome, let alone vote, although this might have been mitigated by certain alterations made to the electoral system during those years (see below). Yet such potential obstacles notwithstanding, the citizen settlements appear to have been reasonably popular and soon became significant towns in their own right. The sizes of the original contingents of colonists had little effect on the later development of the settlements. It is true that some of the colonies founded in 194 BC – particularly those in the far South of the peninsula, the most infamous cases being Buxentum and Sipontum – understandably failed to become attractive locations for subsequent settlers.16 Yet the success stories are more worthy of note, chief among them Puteoli that soon became the principal port on the Tyrrhenian coast.17 In addition, several citizen colonies founded during the mid-Republican peri-

14

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16

17

In the case of Bononia, two colonies had initially been planned, only one of which was founded in the end, possibly because too few settlers had made themselves available (Livy 37.47.2; cf. Briscoe 1981, 190; Livy 37.57.7–8; cf. Briscoe 1981, 390). Cosa: Livy 32.2.7 (199 BC); 33.24.9 (197 BC) – Narnia: Livy 32.2.6 (199 BC). The senatorial debate concerning the status of Aquileia (Livy 39.55.5–6) attests to both the significance of the citizenship and to considerable interest in colonisation amongst the elite. From the senators’ point of view, the colonists who mattered most were those who might be useful as political supporters and business partners. They were members of the elite or, at least, the higher census classes, who were unlikely to surrender their Roman citizenship voluntarily. Cf. also Brunt 1971, 278–282. It was in the South that the bulk of the land targeted by the Gracchi was located; Roselaar 2010. The Gracchan distributions appear to have met with mixed success in those areas – the fact that land was measured out and individually assigned does not mean that its recipients ever farmed it. There is little reason to assume that land unpopular during the 180s BC should have become desirable fifty years later. There are several possible reasons for this, such as the distance from other citizen territories, the environmental conditions, and the ongoing tensions in Bruttium – the one area in the South which had been treated especially harshly by Rome after the end of the Hannibalic War, to the extent that it had intermittently been a praetorian province even after Hannibal’s departure (Livy 31.6.2; cf. Briscoe 1973, 70; cf. Carlà-Uhink 2017, 43; Gargola 2017, 61–62). According to Livy (39.23.3–4), a senatorial commission had found Buxentum and Sipontum (in Lucania and Apulia respectively) deserted in 186 BC, prompting the senate to order a supplementation of the two colonies. However, the archaeological evidence suggests that the site of Buxentum was reasonably prosperous throughout the second century, not least because it provided a harbour accessible from its Lucanian hinterland; cf. Fracchia/Gualtieri 2011. In addition, not all later citizen colonies turned out to be prosperous settlements. This is shown by the case of Graviscae in the Maremma: its surroundings were known to be marshy and the climate

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od now grew into sizeable towns, among them Sinuessa which Livy mentions in our opening passage as one of the beneficiaries of Flaccus’ munificence in 174 BC.18 Still, the expansion of citizen settlement was not limited to colonisation strictly speaking. First, the number of rural citizen dwellers also grew since the earlier part of the second century BC saw at least two instances of viritane assignation, the first in the far South of the peninsula, the second north of the Etruscan border.19 In some cases, new colonies were moreover founded in regions which had an existing population of Roman citizens, presumably because they had moved there following the conquest of those areas yet without formal assignation of land having taken place. This certainly appears to have happened in the case of Saturnia which had been a praefectura at an earlier point in its history.20 If this is true, it must have applied to the period between the annexation of the territory from Vulci in the 270s BC and the foundation of the colony in 181 BC, for which we may reasonably assume a presence of Roman citizens in an area which had not yet been assigned to a tribus. This formalisation only occurred in connexion to the foundation of Saturnia nearly one-hundred years later.21 Something comparable might also have happened in the case of Auximum.22 Moreover, should

18

19 20 21

22

malarial even as early as the second century BC, according to Cato’s Origines (FRH 5F71 = Serv. Aen 10.184). Strabo Geog 5.225 labels it a polichnion in the late first century BC. Lackner 2008, 183–184, raises the possibility that the unusually large size of Sinuessa – compared to other early citizen colonies – may have been a direct result of Fulvius Flaccus’ intervention. Similarly, Liternum, Minturnae, Tarracina and Volturnum became coastal towns of note during the second century BC. Salmon’s argument – that the elder Scipio Africanus moved to Liternum because it was a backwater – is a circular attempt at proving his rule that small citizen colonies were unpopular and bound to fail. This further highlights the problematic nature of Salmon’s evolutionary model of Roman colonisation in Italy and, in particular, the weaknesses of the mid-Republican coloniae maritimae as a valid historical category; cf. Bispham 2006 and Crawford 2014 for two fundamental critiques of standard approaches to Republican colonisation, as well as the comprehensive discussion by Stek 2017. Contrast Lackner 2008, who accepts Salmon’s model as the basis of her archaeological study of Republican fora in Italy; v. Hesberg 1985 similarly presupposes the validity of traditional categories but arrives at the convincing conclusion that the presumed origins of a colony and its future development or failure as an urban settlement were not causally related. In 201–199 BC and 173 BC (Livy 31.4.1–3; 31.49.4–7; 42.4.3–4). Festus 262.15L; cf. Brunt 1971, 528–529. The archaeological evidence for the foundation of Saturnia and subsequent centuriation of its territory is discussed by Fentress 2002, and Fentress/Jacques 2002, based on survey results. These cannot conclusively rule out an occupation of the town and its surrounding area during the preceding century. As a recipient of state moneys, Auximum must have been a settlement of citizens by 174 BC although the foundation of the colony there is usually dated to 157 BC, following Vell. Pat. 1.15.3; cf. Lackner 2008, 45, and contrast Salmon 1969, 112, n. 194–128 BC (Gracchan colony). Alternatively, it is possible that in 174 BC Auximum was a nucleated settlement in an area of viritane assignation, as suggested by Briscoe 2012, 115–116 (ad Livy 41.21.12, with further references). Yet it is equally plausible that Auximum had at some point previously been founded as a colony but for some reason failed to enter the canonical narratives of colonisation preserved in Livy and Velleius’ accounts, as appears to have happened in other cases, too. Cf. Tweedie 2011, who argues that the second-century gap in colonisation is largely artificial (Tweedie 2011, 466 on Auximum and Heba), as well

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Coarelli’s dating of the lucus Pisaurensis to the third century BC be correct, this should mean that the foundation of Pisaurum several decades later also incorporated – and thus formalised – an existing settlement of Roman citizens.23 Second, we know of at least three cases in which existing peregrine communities were politically incorporated into the Roman state. In 188 BC, the popular assembly granted the citizenship and thus municipal status to previously independent communities of Fundi, Formiae and Arpinum.24 We should perhaps guard ourselves against the assumption that the wholesale granting of citizenship to peregrine communities happened as frequently in the second century BC as is sometimes assumed. As Mouritsen has pointed out, Livy’s account for 188 BC suggests that the incorporation of the three towns was a contentious issue: therefore, the silence of our sources on any subsequent occasions may mean these were only few.25 To this one might add that, if anything, the popular assembly was increasingly reluctant to incorporate other Italian communities between the Hannibalic and the Social Wars. Yet Mouritsen’s (perhaps excessively) sceptical view notwithstanding, there is still be room for arguing that the number of formally constituted settlements did increase during the second century BC. This might have happened in the case of settlement nuclei located in areas of viritane assignation, where they would have fulfilled administrative and socio-economic functions for the surrounding populations.26 Comparable to the foundation of colonies in previously annexed territories, the constitution of smaller settlement nuclei as fora, praefecturae or the like (see below) may have added a level of formalisation to settlement structures in response to the growing role played by peripheral areas in Roman politics and society. The principal factor behind this may have been Roman elite interests, of both political and socio-economic nature, for which regional Italy provided an increasingly attractive outlet.27 One of the fields in which we can trace such elite

23 24 25

26 27

as Pina Polo 2006. For the historiography of Roman colonisation in general, see the important discussion by Crawford 2014, who suggests a date in the first half of the second century BC for the genesis of such a narrative. Coarelli 2000; for a contrasting view, cf. Harvey Jr. 2006. Livy 38.36.7–9. Thus Mouritsen 2007, 144–145 argues against the communis opinio that all municipia sine suffragio and praefecturae were enfranchised over the course of the second century; for the latter view, cf. Brunt 1971, 527; Humbert 1978 (by 179 BC); Taylor 2013, 80–100 passim (for the tribus to which those communities were supposedly assigned). Ando 2016 sees the debate of 188 BC as setting a precedent for the enfranchisement of foreign communities by popular vote, which according to his view happened with increasing frequency thereafter. Thus Brunt 1971, 42, 530. Capogrossi Colognesi 2014, 104–105 suggests that the emergence of those smaller centres attests to the fundamentally urban nature of Roman society. This might be too perfunctory an explanation since we need to consider why members of the elite would have been willing to invest their capital in such places. This question is particularly pertinent in those cases in which the architectural scale of such minor centres may have exceeded functional requirements. Cf. also Bispham 2007, 97–80, 87–91, with Laurence 1999, 189–192, and my discussion in the next section below.

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activities very clearly is public munificence in regional communities, which I discussed at the outset, and to which I now return. 3. Public Construction and the Elite in Citizen Communities However exceptional the scale of Fulvius Flaccus’ measures might have been in 174 BC, it is abundantly clear that it is was by no means unusual – even if potentially controversial – for magistrates of the Roman Republic to act in their official capacity as initiators of public construction in regional towns. Only five years earlier, the censor M. Aemilius Lepidus had been criticised for letting a contract to have a port structure built at Terracina, apparently because he himself owned an estate in the area and should have covered certain expenses from his private pocket.28 Yet it is archaeology, not literary sources that accounts for the great majority of our evidence for public construction in Italian citizen communities during the second century BC. Here, we encounter a notable increase in monumental construction. This trend forms the subject of the present section, specifically in relation to whether and how it may have been linked with elite interests in regional Italy. As Marion Boos provides a detailed discussion of the archaeological evidence in her contribution to this volume, I limit myself here to the mechanisms by which those projects might have been realised.29 As in the previous section, I focus my discussion primarily on citizen colonies, although several of my observations also extend to newly enfranchised municipia There can, of course, be little doubt that public building projects in regional towns were sponsored by members of the elites during the second century BC.30 Sometimes they clearly did so in their capacity as local magistrates, as documented, most significantly, in the case of the lex de pariete faciundo from Puteoli of 105 BC.31 In addition, in at 28

29 30 31

Livy 40.51.2–4. Conversely, Livy is complimentary about the construction projects that were commissioned by Lepidus’ colleague M. Fulvius Nobilior: amongst them was the construction of a new river harbour at Rome. In contrast to Lepidus’ port facilities at Terracina, his colleague’s project was going to be of lasting benefit to the population of the urbs, and still there for Livy to see in his own day. John Patterson has kindly pointed out to me that M. Di Fazio, Fundi e il suo territorio in età romana 2006, suggests that this structure might have been a precursor of the still visible cutting that allowed access from the port at Terracina to the territory of Fundi. Should this be correct, it would strengthen my case since such a substantial intervention would no doubt have improved the access of agricultural produce to the sea. I have not been able to locate the volume in time for the completion of this chapter. See also Boos 2011; Lackner 2008. The importance of interest-driven elite agency is discussed by Boos 2011, with a specific emphasis on “sakrale Topographie”. CIL X 1781 = ILLRP 518. Owing to the size and status of Puteoli as one of the principal ports in the central Mediterranean, it is possible but unlikely that its administration was more complex than that of other citizen communities at this stage; cf. Bispham 2007, 102–103. Another example from

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least one instance a dedicatory inscription points to the direct involvement of an individual Roman nobilis in his official capacity as a magistrate of the Roman Republic. This relates to the construction of a floor in the temple of Jupiter Anxur at Terracina, sponsored by a consul Servius Sulpicius Galba and thus datable to either 144 or 108 BC.32 The fact that the later emperor Galba possessed an estate at Terracina makes it possible at least to speculate that the family had obtained land in the area during the Republican period, which would explain the consul’s willingness to lend his name and influence as consul to supporting a local building project.33 We have already seen that a comparable motivation was suspected to have been behind Aemilius Lepidus’ construction of a port structure in the same town in 179 BC; and it is by no means impossible that Fulvius Flaccus, too, took personal or family interests into consideration when using his censorial role to display generosity to several citizen communities five years later.34 However, the controversies surrounding those two prominent cases at the same time suggest that some degree of uncertainty existed in respect of who should have been in charge of public building in regional citizen communities and, concomitantly, how these were supposed to be financed. Legislation firmly governing this area most probably came into effect during the period following the Social War, for which inscriptions commemorating the munificence of individual members of the elites abound across Italy. Specifically, those laws may have defined what the holders of certain local magistracies were responsible for financing – using public money – with dedicatory inscriptions that arguably advertised the diligent and successful completion of one’s duties.35 Yet this does evidently not mean that such regulations had been in place when the expansion and, most importantly, formalisation of Roman citizen settlement in Italy was beginning to take on a new quality. Rather, we should expect for there to have been considerable debates surrounding this subject – as is certainly suggested by the two passages from Livy – and that, as in other areas, experimentation increasingly led to the emergence of certain conventions, some of which were eventually made into laws.36

32 33 34

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before the Social War might be a pavement laid on the initiative of the IIviri at Luna (CIL I2 3368; cf. Boos 2011, 178). CIL I2 694; cf. Boos 2011, 90–93, 219–220. Suet. Galb. 4. Yet it is important to stress that Q. Fulvius Flaccus had not been one of the iiiuiri charged with the foundation of Potentia and Pisaurum in 184 BC. Therefore, he cannot have sponsored the construction of the temple in any official capacity he held or had previously occupied in the colony; cf. Boos 2011, 219; with Briscoe 2008, 368–369 (ad Livy 39.44.10). Crawford 1998, esp. 38–39; cf. Gordon 2003, 227–228, with further references. This way of proceeding would not have been untypical of regulations in Roman public life, particularly where much was at stake – as it was here – in terms of elite competition. As a particularly prominent case, one could cite here the lex Villia Annalis of 180 BC (Livy 40.44.1–2), which legally enshrined certain conventions that had gradually come into existence during the preceding decades; cf. Briscoe 2008, 522–523, with further references; see also Briscoe 1973, 67 ad Livy 31.4.7; and the fundamental discussions by Bleicken 1975, and Beck 2005.

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Indirect support for my argument comes from what we can infer about the relationship between Roman magistrates and Latin colonies once they had been set up as independent communities. While colonies of Roman citizens had been small affairs primarily aimed at garrisoning certain parts of the peninsula prior to the second century BC, Latin colonisation had been evolving for at least 200 years by then. Thus, by the time that the last settlements of Latin type were founded in the early decades of the second century BC, there may have been more or less clear rules governing most aspects of a deductio.37 In fact, we have a certain idea of this in respect of the roles played by the iiiuiri – senatorial appointees in charge of founding or supplementing colonial settlements – thanks to an inscription that pertains to the supplementation of Aquileia in 169 BC.38 This text was inscribed on the base of a statue commemorating the achievements of T. Annius Luscus, one of the three commissioners named by Livy, which was placed in the aedes set up to commemorate the colony’s supplementation.39 The inscription lists three tasks fulfilled by Luscus: is hance aedem faciundam dedit dedicauitque, leges(ue) composiuit deditque, senatum ter cooptauit Two observations concern my argument here. First, the guiding principle of the commissioners’ tasks was to set up the colony – or, in this case, reconstitute it – in a manner that allowed it to become a self-governing, independent community as quickly as possible again. In reverse order of the inscribed account, Annius Luscus revised and amended the membership of the local senate, the central organ of the colony as fully-fledged polity;40 he oversaw the completion of the colonial statute; and he commissioned the construction of, and subsequently dedicated the temple in (or, more probably, in front of) which his honorific statue was subsequently placed. Sec37 38 39

40

For the procedures of deductio, see Gargola 1995, esp. 51–70. Although the subject of Gargola’s book pertains to Republican colonisation tout court, the detailed passages of his discussion primarily draw on evidence for the second and first centuries BC. AE 1998, 685; cf. Briscoe 2012, 446–447 ad Livy 43.17.1; Gordon 2003, 221. Livy 43.17.1; cf. Briscoe 2012. Annius Luscus of 169 BC was probably not the same man as the consul of 153 BC, who is usually taken to have been his son; cf. Gordon 2003, 221. The triumvir of 169 BC had already served as an ambassador to Macedon in 172 BC (Livy 42.25.1), which implies that he was a senator of some standing by then, and probably an old man in 153 BC. Briscoe 2012, 447 ad Livy 43.17.1: “cooptauit … suggests that Annius made additions to the existing senate, and did so on three separate occasions.” This might be somewhat underplaying the significance of the supplementation so soon after the original foundation of the colony in 181 BC (39.55.5). In 171 BC, an Aquileian embassy had complained to the Roman Senate about the town’s precarious position and insufficient fortifications vis-à-vis its hostile neighbours (Livy 43.1.4–12; cf. Briscoe 2012, 446–447). The addition of 1,500 families might indeed have been intended as a step towards improving that situation. At any rate, the arrival of such numbers of new settlers must have meant that the measures involved in the colony’s supplementation were substantial. Thus, the honorific inscription describes Luscus’ actions in ritual and legal terms that essentially imply a re-foundation rather than a mere expansion of the settlement, although it does of course not credit him with coloniae deducundae. This phrase is used, by contrast, in an epigraph honouring L. Manlius Acidinus, one of the iiiviri charged with the original foundation of Aquileia in 181 BC (ILLRP 324; cf. Livy 39.55.6).

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ond, while constructing and inaugurating the temple may have been an integral part of the supplementation ritual, it also appears to have marked the religious and physical ending point of the involvement of the iiiuiri in the internal affairs of Aquileia, thus corresponding to the due completion of the commissioner’s censorial and legislative functions. On the fair assumption that the case of Aquileia is broadly representative of second-century Latin colonisation, we may conclude that in this type of settlement, the involvement of Roman magistrates was clearly circumscribed and, above all, intended to get the new communities up and running as independent polities as quickly as possible. The tasks allotted to the iiiviri specifically included the construction of a public building – the aedes as the physical representation of the original templum and thus the ritual focus of the deductio or supplementation.41 Conversely, we may safely assume that the local senate was responsible for the commissioning of and payment for any subsequent projects, which possibly included its encouraging of private munificence amongst the local elite. At any rate, public construction in Latin colonies ceased to be the responsibility of the Roman senate and fiscus as soon as the work of the iiiviri had reached its conclusion. By contrast, the situation was far less clear-cut in respect of large citizen colonies, which emerged as a new phenomenon during the early second-century BC. There may of course have been a great overlap with the mechanisms involved in the deductio of Latin communities, including the important yet clearly defined and limited role played by the iiiviri.42 Like their Latin counterparts, citizen colonies no doubt became self-governing communities after their foundation. The fundamental difference was that in these cases the settlers were also Roman citizens. As long as such communities had been negligibly small, sometimes ephemeral, and sometimes been subject to exceptional provisions such as vacatio militiae, this had never constituted a problem.43 Now that citizen colonies had reached the size of their Latin counterparts – i e of formally independent allied polities – and were no longer of primarily military character, their administrative and material requirements were on a vastly different scale. Owing to the citizen status of the coloni, it cannot have been clear initially how far a magistrate of the Roman Republic may or might not have extended his reach into local affairs, and where the state’s fiscal obligations began and ended once a new community of citizens

41 42 43

Cf. Gargola 1995, 72–82. But there is no direct evidence for such similarities between the practices that were involved in the foundation of different types of colonies: cf. Gargola 2017, 168–169. However, it is highly doubtful that vacatio militia was a concession that was permanently granted to all citizen colonists. In fact, its existence is inferred from one single passage in Livy (27.38). See the recent discussion by De Ligt 2014, with further references.

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had been established – or where an existing one asked for assistance in a particular endeavour.44 Therefore, an initial lack in the structures defining the relationship between periphery and centre led to the type of controversy over the financing of public building projects in regional citizen communities, which Livy reports for 179 and 174 BC. In the absence of clear precedents and thus of regulations, a structural vacuum existed, which would be filled only gradually. One of the ways in which this happened were precisely the type of individual initiatives we saw in the cases of Aemilius, Flaccus and Sulpicius Galba, and which are also evident among the local elite. In the next section, I seek to establish some of the motivations for and structural consequences of such elite involvement in regional citizen settlements. 4. Discussion So far, this chapter has focused on two of the issues that were raised by the controversy surrounding the actions of Q. Fulvius Flaccus in 174 BC. Namely, these are the extension and formalisation of citizen settlement in Italy during the second century BC, and the active interest taken in this by members of the Roman elite. The point of this discussion is to offer a broader context to both topics. I start with a brief survey of how elite interests in the Italian regions were articulated during this time beyond the field of munificence, followed by an assessment of salient issues relating to the structural integration of local government into the res publica Roman Elites in the Italian regions As noted in the previous section, historians of republican Rome have long been aware of the significant role played by elite investment in public infrastructure at the level of regional citizen communities. Yet it is important not to limit this discussion to the subject of munificence at the local level. On the contrary, the latter should be placed within the context of a transformation of the regions into a locus of elite activity that, even though it had begun before the Hannibalic War, certainly came to the fore during the period under discussion. As was the case with the points I raised earlier, it is here too that the contributions of archaeological and historical research together need to be taken into account. 44

The building legislation from Puteoli suggests that, by the end of the century, the senates – or, as in this case, the consilia of duumvirales – of citizen colonies were capable of seeing through large projects from inception to conclusion. This does not necessarily mean that this had always been the case, particularly in towns that lacked the resources of Puteoli: see also my note 12.

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An important study by Rosenstein – on the relationship between Roman aristocrats and the Italian countryside – forms my point of departure in this respect.45 Reacting to the prevalent view – most candidly expressed by Hopkins – that Roman aristocrats exploited the countryside to earn money as an insurance policy against future political obscurity, Rosenstein persuasively demonstrates that agriculture alone could in no way justify any investment in rural property on the part of the senatorial elite.46 The returns would have been too low; and, apart from anything else, the senatorial elite would have had to share any such proceeds with their competitors from the first class, who – as Rosenstein reminds us – might be their equals in financial, if not in social standing. Although there are valid reasons for disagreeing with Rosenstein’s minimalist perspective on profitability – it should be borne in mind that agriculture stricto sensu was not the only profitable activity in the countryside – his fundamental point stands: interest in rural properties increased among the extended Roman elite during the last two centuries BC.47 This is corroborated by archaeological evidence which points to an increasingly intensive exploitation of the countryside, on a scale that required considerable sums of money to be invested. During the second century BC, such evidence does not so much come in the form of the monumental villa complexes of the late Republic and early Empire.48 Rather, the elevated scale of the rural economy is evident in the proliferation of increasingly specialised amphorae used to trade some of the produce, as well as, in several regions, by a decrease in the number of small rural sites and a concomitant increase in larger ones.49 We should also bear in mind that, from as early as 218 BC there had been legislation limiting the involvement of senators in the trade of agricultural produce; this might indicate heightened economic competition between senators and other men of equivalent means but lesser public standing.50 Finally, the publicly financed construction of a port structure at Terracina in 179 BC was unpopular because it appeared to be benefitting the economic interests of the censor who 45 46 47

48

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Rosenstein 2008. Cf. Hopkins 1983. On non-agricultural forms of economic activity on rural elite estates, see Marzano 2007. Cato’s decision to write De agricultura provides strong evidence for this trend towards the owning of rural property among the elite, even if – or perhaps, especially if – he intended it as a moral critique of his aristocratic peers; cf. Reay 2012; Terrenato 2012. Cf. Marzano 2007; Terrenato 2012. Owing to Mogetta’s 2015 ground-breaking work, it now appears unlikely that monumental construction in concrete started long before the middle of the second century BC. Therefore, it emerged at a time when aristocrats began to sponsor large building projects at Rome, as well as in Italian towns and the countryside. It is unlikely that the technological innovation and the cultural developments discussed here are unrelated. Cf. Panella 2010 (material culture); Launaro 2011 (land – noting significant regional variability in the size of rural properties). The lex Claudia de naue senatoris; for this interpretation, cf. Bringmann 2003; Panella 2010, 74–76. Such competition for Italian resources might have been exacerbated if senators were concomitantly prohibited to pursue economic interests in the provinces, even if there were ways around those regulations, eventually causing them to fall flat; cf. Prag 2016.

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owned property in the area. The most straightforward interpretation of the scenario is that M. Aemilius Lepidus was extending at public expense the port facilities which he used in trading the produce of his local estates. While the last case may have been exceptional, it contributes to the picture of an increasing interest in the Italian regions on the part of Roman elites. The example of Terracina furthermore fits into a more widely attested development, namely the expansion of regional ports along the Italian coastlines. We see this most clearly in the rapid growth of Puteoli as the principal port on the Tyrrhenian side of the peninsula, which of course bears reflection on the role of Campania as an agricultural powerhouse during this period. Yet it is also worth seeing the contemporaneous trend towards the emergence of sizeable regional ports as the result of increasing elite investment in those areas, and thus as part of the same process that led to the construction of public buildings at the expense of private citizens. The port cities were an outlet for the investment of moneys gained in the context of imperial expansion, both for economic profit and, as Rosenstein suggests in the case of agriculture, as a way of enhancing one’s social standing. This might at least go some way to explain the de-centralisation of the Italian port system during the Republican period: it was a function of the Roman elite’s socio-economic interests in the regions.51 In this respect, we should furthermore bear in mind that increasing flows of capital had caused a progressive extension of the elite since the middle of the third century BC, especially in the number of those registered in the first class. To the members of this class, regional citizen settlements furthermore offered public – socio-political – opportunities of a kind from which they were largely excluded in the capital, and without causing them to lose their citizenship.52 In addition, we should also remember that even the senatorial elite underwent a slow but steady turnover, resulting in a significant number of families who for at least one or two generations might be excluded from the political system at Rome as a source of revenue and social capital.53 To these people, too, the Italian regions might have become attractive areas on which to focus their activities, certainly from an economic perspective but possibly also because local electorates were acquiring more and more importance.54

51 52

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Cf. also Panella 2010, 57–66 passim, for the significance of regional elite interests to the distribution of Italian ports. In addition to this, the elites of newly incorporated municipia were usually members of the first class. As the example of Cicero’s grandfather suggests – who decided against entering public life in Rome and focused his political energy on Arpinum (Cic. Leg 3.36) – municipal public life held its own attractions. Hopkins 1983. I think that unsuccessful members of the nobility and their descendants must in some cases also have focused their political ambitions at the local level for some time at least, though to test this would go far beyond the scope of this chapter. What, for example, happened to those (branches of) families who fell into political obscurity for many generations, sometimes forever?

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Structural Implications As I argued above, the foundation of Roman citizen colonies on the model of formally independent Latin settlements raised certain questions about the relationship between centre and periphery. Similarly, the integration into the citizenship of some hitherto allied communities meant that more Roman citizens than ever before lived in regional communities which were essentially self-governing, without there being any formally defined link between these men’s belonging to a local community on the one hand and possessing Roman citizenship on the other. This is further thrown into relief if we consider that the 170s BC were also the time when the tribus ceased to be geographically contiguous or even to follow the logic of the road system.55 In this way, the rural voting-units gradually ceased to function as regional settings of face-to-face interaction, by which they had previously constituted meaningful units of patronage and canvassing, and they were becoming too unwieldy for the tribal officers effectively to fulfil their duties. Therefore, it seems reasonable to follow Taylor in assuming that municipia – to which I would add citizen colonies – began to fulfil an increasingly important role in fulfilling the administrative functions of the tribus.56 In respect of the other points raised – social networks and canvassing – there is limited evidence to suggest that the structural relationship between the electoral units of tribus and century was adjusted at least once during the first half of the second century BC. This occurred in the censorship of M. Fulvius Nobilior and M. Aemilius Lepidus in 179 BC, and inter alia concerned a re-division of the voting units (suffragia) by region (regionatim).57 Following Grieve, I think that this may be a reference to a measure by which the centuries were constituted in a way that took into account where their members lived.58 Going beyond what she argues, it is possible that this geographical re-arrangement may have followed the boundaries of larger quasi-polities with citizen status, such as municipia and coloniae.59 Thus, the reform might have been in recog-

55 56 57 58

59

Taylor 2013, 80–100; for the significance of the road network in relation to the tribus, see Crawford 2002. Taylor 2013, 99; cf. also Brunt 1971, esp. 36–43, 524. However, a complete replacement of tribal by municipal structures (as suggested by Taylor, following Beloch) is unlikely to have taken place even in the late Republic; cf. Crawford 1998, 31, n. 1. “mutarunt suffragia, regionatimque generibus hominum causisque et quaestibus tribus discripserunt.” Livy 40.51.9. Grieve 1985, with further references; cf. Briscoe 2008, 547–549, who, though mostly in agreement with Grieve, takes issue with her interpreting generibus as equivalent to ordines, and not as a reference to the inscription of freedmen, which is the more common reading. My understanding of the sentence depends on Grieve’s reading of the term. Unfortunately, it is not clear if the original colonists had to exchange their original tribus for that assigned to their colony; cf. Crawford 1998, 35, n. 16. For the period before the Social War, I suspect that they did. Of course, this does clearly not mean that those men who subsequently moved to a colony gave up their tribes of origin.

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nition of the greatly increased number of politically relevant Roman citizens across more or less distant regions of Italy; and it would have formed a logical continuation of the reform (of unknown date) through which the 70 centuries of the first class had been distributed among the tribus. As a result, such locations may have become more important in electoral terms, which could in turn explain Fulvius Flaccus’ generosity five years after the measure had been implemented, as described by Livy in the passage that formed the starting point of this chapter. In a similar light, we might understand the activities of Claudius Russus, an ancestor of the Emperor Tiberius, whom his detractors accused of having tried to gain undue political influence across the Italian peninsula.60 In addition, a regional subdivision of the centuries might also have facilitated the census and thus military recruitment. In these and other ways, then, municipia and citizen colonies may have come to fulfil an increasingly important function in structurally integrating centre and periphery in the Roman citizenship, a process that was only to be completed – in a very different political landscape – in the wake of the Social War several generations later.61 The increasing formalisation of citizen settlement in the regions furthermore extended below the level of colonia and municipium, where a number of smaller settlement categories – such as fora and conciliabula – is epigraphically attested from the 120s BC.62 Again, the process reached completion only some time after the Social War, probably as a deliberate and – at least to some extent – centrally coordinated step towards increasing the degree of administrative homogeneity among a citizenry that had exponentially grown by then.63 Yet the roots of this development towards increasingly tightly defined settlement hierarchies may well have reached back to the period 60

61

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Suet. Tib 2.2, commenting on Russus’ placing of a crowned statue of himself at Forum Appii. This does not mean that the rural non-elite population now enjoyed any greater democratic participation than before. However, the re-weighting of the centuries meant a gain in the prestige and political capital of the elites affected by this measure. Salmon 1969, 104, n. 181 had already noted that electoral support might have been a possible motive for Flaccus’ actions, based on the assumption that the reform implemented by the censors of 179 BC strengthened the weight of peripheral voters within the tribes (Salmon 1969, 103–104, 106, n. 187). However, he did not discuss in any detail the specific changes which the censorial measure brought about in his view. The public affairs of municipia certainly came to the attention of the senatorial elite, as the case of Cicero’s grandfather suggests (Cic. Leg 3.36). In addition, the passage is of considerable interest since it refers to a local election law; cf. Bispham 2007, 110–112. Being self-governing and relatively autonomous, only municipia and citizen coloniae provided the infrastructure and institutions that were necessary to integrate the geographically expanding body of Roman citizens. It is furthermore possible that such settlements functioned as the physical interfaces in client-patron relationships (based on extended family networks) that linked central with peripheral interests. According to Linke 2006, with specific emphasis on military recruitment, such networks provided the principal glue that held together the otherwise ‘crystalline’ set up of the citizenship in Italy before the Social War. My views are complementary to his. The earliest document is the Gracchan extortion law on the Tabula Bembina (Roman Statutes, no. 1,l. 31). Sisani 2011; cf. also Bispham 2007, 87–91; Brunt 1971, 530–531; Crawford 1998, 43–44.

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following the Second Punic War.64 This had seen an earlier, geographic extension of the citizen population, which in turn prompted the emergence of formal structures to connect centre and periphery. Underlining this further, it is worth pointing to the fact that we encounter such settlement hierarchies in the first place in legal texts that were drafted at Rome but binding on Roman citizens who lived across the peninsula and in circumstances that, in practice, varied considerably. As such, we may be dealing here with a functional aspect of the universalising approach expressed in legal texts towards the population of Italy, which Clifford Ando addresses in his contribution to this book from the point of view of imperial ideology. Its effect was a gradual, legal categorisation of a variety of geographical (and cultural) realities. This, in turn, favoured the emergence of increasingly homogeneous institutions at the regional and local levels, through which the letter of the law could be enforced.65 Yet it is worth remembering that this process of institutionalisation depended on a growing level of interest and active involvement in the Italian regions on the part of the Roman elites, making the latter a key factor in the progressive integration of centre and citizen periphery in the period before the Social War. 5. Conclusion The Roman citizenship expanded significantly in the decades after the Hannibalic War, both geographically and in terms of the sheer numbers of people concerned. In this chapter, I have attempted to draw out merely a few structural implications of this development, with a view particularly to the increasing integration of centre and periphery, as well as to the importance of elite interests and agency in this. As stated at the outset, regional Italy before the Social War currently tends to be studied primarily with allied communities in mind. Still, the two areas were structurally interlinked. During the second century BC, both allied polities and regional communities of Roman citizens were

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Gabba 1994. As Crawford has pointed out, both geographical and legal categories appear in different sections of the lex agraria of 111 BC (Crawford 1996, no. 2,l.5, l. 31; cf. Crawford 1998, 42–43). In the opening section, geographical terms (urbs, oppidum, uicus) tangibly describe the subject of the law (land). In the main body of the text, the instructions concerning the legal status of specific territorial arrangements categorise them in institutional terms (coloniae, municipia), resorting to legal fictions (pro colonia, pro municipio) to include heterogenous local set-ups that did not yet correspond directly to Roman institutions of government; cf. also Ando’s contribution to this volume. The addressees of the law might have been the inhabitants of those towns – or, perhaps better, nuclei of settlement – that had grown in areas of viritane assignation, which might at times have adopted some of the institutional structures of neighbouring indigenous settlements (though the trend had very much moved to the reverse by the late second century BC!). On the other hand, the legal fictions may also have served to refer to settlements without full citizen status; cf. Crawford 1996, 167–168 (ad no. 2,ll. 31–33); Brunt 1971, 527–528.

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undergoing profound processes of institutionalisation in response to a growing claim on Rome’s part to her comprehensive hegemony of terra Italia. In both areas, too, elite interests were driving the agenda. In the case of the allies, of course, such processes of ‘state-formation’ in some cases ended up by providing the institutional means of resistance in the Social War.66 This was clearly not the case with the institutionalisation of the Roman citizen body in the regions. Yet both developments represented fundamental, structural precursors to the formal integration of all Italians as Roman citizens during the half-century after the Social War. Bibliography Ando 2016 = C. Ando, Making Romans: Citizens, Subjects, and Subjectivity in Republican Empire, in: L. Lavan / R. E. Payne / J. Weisweiler (Eds.), Cosmopolitanism and Empire. Universal Rulers, Local Elites, and Cultural Integration in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean, Oxford, 169–85 Austin/Harries/Smith (Eds.) 1998 = M. Austin / J. Harries / C. Smith (Eds.), Modus Operandi. Essays in Honour of Geoffrey Rickman (Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Suppl. 71), London Beck 2005 = H. Beck, Karriere und Hierarchie. Die römische Aristokratie und die Anfänge des cursus honorum in der mittleren Republik, Berlin Becker/Terrenato (Eds.) 2012 = J. A. Becker / N. Terrenato (Eds.), Roman Republican Villas. Architecture, Context and Ideology, Ann Arbor Bispham 2006 = E. Bispham, Coloniam deducere: How Roman was Roman colonization during the Middle Republic?, in: Bradley/Wilson (Eds.), 73–160 Bispham 2007 = E. Bispham, From Asculum to Actium. The Municipalization of Italy from the Social War to Augustus, Oxford Bleicken 1975 = J. Bleicken, Lex Publica Gesetz und Recht in der römischen Republik, Berlin Boos 2011 = M. Boos, Heiligtümer römischer Bürgerkolonien. Archäologische Untersuchungen zur sakralen Ausstattung republikanischer coloniae civium romanorum. Rahden-Westf. Bradley 2000 = G. Bradley, Ancient Umbria. State, Culture and Identity in Central Italy from the Iron Age to the Augustan Era, Oxford Bradley 2014 = G. Bradley, The Nature of Roman Strategy in Mid-Republican Colonization and Road-Building, in: Stek/Pelgrom (Eds.), 61–72 Bradley/Wilson (Eds.) 2006 = G. Bradley / J.-P. Wilson (Eds.), Greek and Roman Colonization. Origins, Ideologies and Interactions, Swansea Bringmann 2003 = K. Bringmann, Zur Überlieferung und zum Entstehungsgrund der lex Claudia de nave senatoris, Klio 85, 312–21 Briscoe 1973 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy, Books 31–33, Oxford Briscoe 1981 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy, Books 34–37, Oxford Briscoe (Ed.) 1986 = J. Briscoe (Ed.), Titi Liui ab urbe condita libri xli–xlv, Stuttgart

66

I am adopting Bradley’s 2000 use of state-formation in relation to the allies; see also his contribution to the present volume.

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Briscoe 2008 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy, Books 38–40, Oxford Briscoe 2012 = J. Briscoe, A Commentary on Livy, Books 41–45, Oxford Brunt 1971 = P. A. Brunt, Italian Manpower, 225 B. C.-A. D. 14, Oxford Capogrossi Colognesi 2014 = L Capogrossi Colognesi, Law and Power in the Making of the Roman Commonwealth, Cambridge Carandini/Cambi/Celuzza/Fentress (Eds.) 2002 = A. Carandini / F. Cambi / M. Celuzza / E. Fentress (Eds.), Paesaggi d’Etruria. Valle dell’Albegna, Valle d’Oro, Valle del Chiarone, Valle del Tafone, Rome Carlà-Uhink 2017 = F. Carlà-Uhink, The “Birth” of Italy. The Institutionalization of Italy as a Region, Berlin Coarelli 2000 = F. Coarelli, Il lucus Pisaurensis e la romanizzazione dell’ager Gallicus, in: C. Bruun (Ed.), The Roman Middle Republic. Politics, Religion, and Historiography, c. 400–133 BC. Papers from a Conference at the Institutum Romanum Finlandiae, September 11–12, 1998, Rome, 195–205 Cornell 2013 = T. J. Cornell (Ed.), The Fragments of the Roman Historians (3 vol.), Oxford Crawford 1996 = M. H. Crawford, Roman Statutes (Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Suppl. 64), London Crawford 1998 = M. H. Crawford, How to create a municipium, in: Austin/Harries/Smith (Eds.), 31–46 Crawford 2002 = M. H. Crawford, Tribus, tessères et régions. Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions & Belles Lettres, 1125–36 Crawford 2014 = M. H. Crawford, The Roman History of Roman Colonization, in: Richardson/ Santangelo (Eds.), 201–06 (Revised and translated version of: La storia della colonizzazione romana secondo i Romani, in: A. Storchi Marino (Ed.), L’incidenza dell’antico. Studi in memoria di Ettore Lepore, Naples 1995, 187–92) De Ligt 2014 = L. de Ligt, Livy 27.38 and the vacatio militia of the Maritime Colonies, in: Stek/ Pelgrom (Eds.), 106–23 Fentress 2000 = E. Fentress, Frank Brown, Cosa, and the Idea of a Roman City, in: idem (Ed.), 11–24 Fentress (Ed.) 2000 = E. Fentress (Ed.), Romanization and the City. Creation, Transformations, and Failures ( Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 38), Portsmouth, RI Fentress 2002 = E. Fentress, Saturnia: la città, in: Carandini/Cambi/Celuzza/Fentress (Eds.), 123–4 Fentress/Jacques 2002 = E. Fentress / F. Jacques, Saturnia: la centuriazione, in: Carandini/ Cambi/Celuzza/Fentress (Eds.), 124–26 Fracchia/Gualtieri 2011 = H. Fracchia / M. Gualtieri, The Countryside of Regio II and Regio III (c. 300 BC – AD 14, F. Colivicchi (Ed.), Local Cultures of South Italy and Sicily in the Late Republican Period. Between Hellenism and Rome ( Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 83), Portsmouth, RI, 11–30 Gabba 1994 = E. Gabba, Italia romana, Como Gargola 1995 = D. J. Gargola, Laws, Lands, and Gods. Magistrates and Ceremony in the Regulation of Public Land in Republican Rome, Chapel Hill Gargola 2017 = D. J. Gargola, The Shape of the Roman Order. The Republic and its Spaces, Chapel Hill Gordon 2003 = R. Gordon (with J. Reynolds), Roman Inscriptions 1995–2003, in: Journal of Roman Studies 93, 212–94

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Grieve 1985 = L. Grieve, Livy 40.51.9 and the Centuriate Assembly, in: Classical Quarterly 35, 417–29 Gros/Torelli 1988 = P. Gros / M. Torelli, Storia dell’urbanistica. Il mondo romano, Rome Harvey 2006 = P. B. Harvey Jr., Religion and Memory at Pisaurum, in: Schultz/Harvey Jr. (Eds.), 117–36 v. Hesberg 1985 = H. v. Hesberg, Zur Plangestaltung der Coloniae Maritimae, in: Römische Mitteilungen 92, 127–50 Hopkins 1983 = K. Hopkins, Death and Renewal, Cambridge Humbert 1978 = M. Humbert, Municipium et civitas sine suffragio L’organisation de la conquête jusqu’ à la Guerre Sociale, Rome Isayev 2017 = I. Isayev, Migration, Mobility and Place in Ancient Italy, Cambridge Jehne/Pfeilschifter 2006 = M. Jehne / R. Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), Herrschaft ohne Integration? Rom und Italien in republikanischer Zeit, Frankfurt Lackner 2008 = E. M. Lackner, Republikanische Fora, München Launaro 2011 = A. Launaro, Peasants and Slaves. The Rural Population of Roman Italy (200 BC to AD 100), Cambridge Laurence 1999 = R. Laurence, The Roads of Roman Italy. Mobility and Cultural Change, London Linke 2006 = B. Linke, Bürger ohne Staat? Die Integration der Landbevölkerung in der römischen Republik, in: Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), 65–94 Maschek 2018 = D. Maschek, Die römischen Bürgerkriege. Archäologie und Geschichte einer Krisenzeit, Darmstadt Marzano 2007 = A. Marzano, Roman Villas in Central Italy. A Social and Economic History, Leiden Mogetta 2015 = M. Mogetta, A New Date for Concrete in Rome, in: Journal of Roman Studies 105, 1–40 Mouritsen 2007 = H. Mouritsen, The civitas sine suffragio: Ancient Concepts and Modern Ideology, in: Historia 56, 141–58 Panella 2010 = C. Panella, Rome, Il suburbio e l’Italia in età medio- e tardo-repubblicana: cultura materiale, territori, economie, in: Facta 4, 11–124 Pina Polo 2006 = F. Pina Polo, Deportation, Kolonisation, Migration: Bevölkerungsverschiebungen im republikanischen Italien und Formen der Identitätsbildung, in: Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), 171–206 Prag 2016 = J. R. W. Prag, Antiquae sunt istae leges et mortuae: the plebiscitum Claudianum and Associated Laws, in: Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, Antiquité 128.1 (Stable URL: http://mefra.revues.org/3202) Reay 2012 = B. Reay, Cato’s de agri cultura and the Spectacle of Expertise, in: Becker/Terrenato (Eds.), 61–8 Richardson/Santangelo (Eds.) 2014 = J. H. Richardson / F. Santangelo (Eds.), The Roman Historical Tradition. Regal and Republican Rome, Oxford Roselaar 2010 = S. T. Roselaar, Public Land in the Roman Republic. A Social and Economic History of Ager Publicus in Italy, 396–89 BC, Oxford Roselaar 2011 = S. T. Roselaar, Colonies and Processes of Integration in the Roman Republic, in: Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, Aniquité 123, 527–55 Rosenstein 2008 = N. Rosenstein, Aristocrats and Agriculture in the Middle and Late Republic, in: Journal of Roman Studies 98, 1–26

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Roth 2019 = R. E. Roth, Sympathy with the Allies? Magisterial Abuse and Political Discourse in Republican Rome, in: American Journal of Philology 140, 123–66 Salmon 1969 = E. T. Salmon, Roman Colonization under the Republic, London Scheidel 2004 = W. Scheidel, Human Mobility in Roman Italy, I: The Free Population, in: Journal of Roman Studies 94, 1–26 Schultz/Harvey (Eds.) 2006 = C. E. Schultz / P. B. Harvey Jr. (Eds.), Religion in Republican Italy (Yale Classical Studies 33), Cambridge Sherwin-White 1973 = A. N. Sherwin-White, The Roman Citizenship, 2nd Edn., Oxford Sisani 2011 = S. Sisani, In pagis forisque et conciliabulis Le strutture amministrative dei distretti rurali in Italia tra la media repubblica e l’età municipale, Rome Stek 2018 = T. D. Stek, The Impact of Roman Expansion and Colonization on Ancient Italy in the Republican Period. From Diffusion to Networks of Opportunity, in: G. Farney / G. Bradley (Eds.), The Peoples of Ancient Italy, Boston-Berlin, 269–94 Stek/Pelgrom (Eds.) 2014 = T. D. Stek / J. Pelgrom (Eds.), Roman Republican Colonization. New Perspectives from Archaeology and Ancient History, Rome Taylor 2013 = L. R. Taylor, The Voting Districts of the Roman Republic. The Thirty-five Urban and Rural Tribes, 1st Edn.1960, with updated Material by Jerzy Linderski, Ann Arbor Terrenato 2012 = N. Terrenato, The Enigma of ‘Catonian’ Villas: the de agri cultura in the Context of Second-Century BC Italian Architecture, in: Becker/Terrenato (Eds.), 69–93 Tweedie 2011 = F. C. Tweedie, The case of the Missing Veterans: Roman Colonisation and Veteran Settlement in the Second Century BC, in: Historia 60, 458–73

Adorning the City Urbanistic Trends in Republican Central Italy Marion Bolder-Boos (Darmstadt) “Sed coloniarum alia necessitudo est; non enim veniunt extrinsecus in civitatem nec suis radicibus nituntur, sed ex civitate quasi propagatae sunt et iura institutaque omnia populi Romani, non sui arbitrii, habent Quae tamen condicio, cum sit magis obnoxia et minus libera, potior tamen et praestabilior existimatur propter amplitudinem maiestatemque populi Romani, cuius istae coloniae quasi effigies parvae simulacraque esse quaedam videntur ” Gell. NA 16.13

In this famous passage, Aulus Gellius describes the difference between colonies founded by the Romans and the independent municipia which used their own laws and rights. Gellius, writing in the 2nd century CE, had the towns and communities in the Roman Provinces in mind rather than the old municipia of Italy which prior to the Social War possessed legal codes and magistracies similar to Rome. In any case, Gellius was mainly referring to laws and institutions, not architectural and urbanistic similarities between Rome and its colonies. Nonetheless, this passage had in the past been used to argue that the colonies were physically modelled after Rome, making the colonies mere replicas of the Urbs.1 This view may have been influenced by the colonial experience in the modern era, where we can find replications of European architecture in many overseas colonies.2 The situation in ancient Italy is, of course, quite different. Colonies were not founded in a faraway land, but in neighbouring territories, often in already existing settlements. Not all the settlers Rome sent to a new colony came from Rome itself. Votive inscriptions found in an extra-urban sanctuary near the Roman

1 2

E. g. Salmon 1969, 18; Brown 1980, 12. This view has been challenged in recent years by various scholars. For a detailed critique see Bispham 2006; an overview of the discussion is provided by Sewell 2014, 125–126. See for instance Demissie 2012 for an overview of colonial architecture in Africa.

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colony of Pisaurum on the Adriatic coast of Picenum, for instance, indicate that the inhabitants of this settlement came from various places in central Italy.3 The evidence for Roman architecture and urbanism in the towns of Republican Italy having been copied is quite fragmentary. The most prominent and oft-quoted example of such a simulacrum is Cosa, a Latin colony established in 273 BCE in western Etruria approximately 120 km north of Rome.4

Fig. 1 Plan of ancient Cosa

Excavated in the 1950s and 1960s, it was hailed as a prime example of a “little Rome”, equipped with a forum featuring a curia, a comitium, a temple of Concord and several so-called atrium houses.5 Even the sacral topography of Cosa seemed to have followed the Roman model, with a Capitoline temple erected on the arx and connected to the

3 4 5

Harvey Jr. 2006. Livy Epit. 14; Vell. Pat. 1.14.7; Plin. HN 3.51. On the forum of Cosa see Lackner 2008 with bibliography.

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forum by a sacra via.6 However, investigations in the last two decades have cast doubt on Brown’s confident denomination of Cosa as a small copy of Rome.7 His interpretation of the grand temple on the arx of Cosa as a copy of the Capitoline Temple in Rome has particularly come under scrutiny.8 In a recent article on temples supposedly dedicated to Jupiter, Juno and Minerva Josephine Crawley Quinn and Andrew Wilson showed that the denomination “Capitolium” has often been given prematurely.9 Rather than being perceived as a sign of “religious Romanization”,10 Capitolia should be seen as an asset of Roman citizen colonies where they served as a religious focal point for the Roman settlers.11 Architecturally, there is no strict, discernible paradigm. Although some Capitolia resembled one another in their general layout – Tuscan temples with tripartite cella and erected on elevated podia –, this temple type was widespread in early and mid-Republican times.12 More to the point, none of these Capitolia imitated the Capitoline Temple in Rome itself, which was a peripteros sine postico with a three bay deep hexastyle façade and seven columns on each side.13 Another misconception was the idea that Capitoline temples in the colonies were either located on the arx – like the one in Rome – or, in the case of settlements situated in level terrain, at the forum.14 So far every interpretation that argued for the identification of a temple situated on an arx as Capitolium has proved to be untenable.15 Therefore, neither the design nor the location of Capitolia was connected to attempts of imitating Rome. Apart from Capitolia, there are other urban aspects that must be considered when asking about Rome’s role as a possible paradigm for the urbanistic development of the towns of Italy, particularly urban planning and the design of the city centre, the forum.

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Brown/Hill Richardson/Richardson Jr. 1960. Fentress 2000. Bispham 2006, 95–105; Stek 2009; Boos 2011a, 27–28; Boos 2011b, 197–199; Quinn/Wilson 2013, 7. Still, the interpretation of the grand temple on the arx of Cosa as a Capitolium persists, cf. Stamper 2013. Quinn/Wilson 2013, although their strict criteria for the identification of Capitolia seems to somewhat overshoot the mark. See Stek 2009 for a critical discussion. Boos 2011b, 221–223. Boos 2011b, 223. On the architecture of the Capitolium in Rome see, for instance, Stamper 2005, 6–33 and Sommella Mura 2009 with a critical discussion of Stamper’s reconstruction. Cf. De Azevedo 1940, 9–59. For a more detailed discussion see Boos 2011b, 223–224.

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1. The urban design of Roman and Latin colonies There are different types of urban layouts that can be observed in the colonies, depending primarily on their topographic situation. The layout was usually determined by the course of the city wall, the position of the city-gates and the main axes that formed the street system. In most cases, those main axes followed an orthogonal plan. The area inside the city wall was divided into public and domestic districts. In her seminal work on fora in Republican colonies, Eva-Maria Lackner identified six different layout types based mainly on the course of the city wall and the internal street grid: topological, herringbone, mixed, intermediate, orthogonal and castrum type.16 The latter is of particular importance, as it was very common among colonies in low-lying areas that were laid out ex novo in newly conquered territory, and is thus considered to be a typically Roman urban design. It can best be studied at Luna, a Roman citizen colony established in 177 BCE on the coast of Liguria.17 Luna has a roughly rectangular ground plan with city-gates on at least three sides, two central axes, cardo and decumanus maximus, intersecting at right angle at the city centre, and smaller cardines and decumani following this grid. While Greek towns’ ground plans were derived from the per strigas system that can be found in early colonial foundations and were further developed into the so-called Hippodamic System, the Roman castrum type had for a long time been thought to have had its origins in Roman military camps.18 The earliest example of this castrum type layout can be found in Ostia, a Roman citizen colony founded around the middle of the 4th century BCE roughly 22 km west of Rome.19 However, the layout of the Greek fort of Olbia in southern France, established by Massilia in the second half of the 4th century BCE, reveals an urban layout similar to Roman castra, thus indicating that castrum type settlements were also known in the contemporary Greek world.20 Since the dating of the foundation of Ostia is not entirely certain, it is futile to discuss here whether the castrum type layout was first established

16 17 18 19

20

Lackner 2008, 227–231. A separate group are those colonies that were installed in Greek settlements. Livy 41.13.4. Cf. Hesberg 1985, 143–144, albeit pointing out that the plan was perhaps inspired by, but not directly derived from military camps. He also suggests that the Romans might have looked at earlier Greek and Punic sites such as Glyphokastro and Oinoe in Attica or Olbia on Sardinia. The exact date of Ostia’s foundation is disputed. While Roman tradition dates it to the times of King Ancus Marcius (Cic. Rep. 2.5.33; Livy 1.33.9; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 3.44.4; see also Plin. HN 3.56 (who states that Ostia was founded by a Roman king), archaeological material attests to an occupation from the 4th century BCE onwards, see Meiggs 1973, 21; Brandt 2002. For a later dating argue Martin 1996 (300–275 BCE), Waarsenburg 1998 (292/1–278 BCE). Cf. Sewell 2014, 130–131 with further references. Sewell suggests that the Romans took their ideas for their coastguard colonies from Massilia which during the 4th century BCE founded several coastal colonies along the Iberian and Ligurian coasts.

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Fig. 2 Plan of Late Republican Ostia

by Greek or by Roman colonizers. What can be said is that while this type of layout does not seem to have played a major role in Greek urbanism, it was to become extremely popular among Roman city-planners.21 An urbanistic feature that has attracted much attention are the fora. Based on her typology of urban layouts, Lackner identifies five different types of forum layouts:22 1) The topological type (‘Topologischer Typus’.), which can be found in settlements with difficult, steep terrain, where the forum lies transverse to the contour lines and is usually accessed from one of the narrow sides.23 2) The herringbone type (‘Fischgratmuster’), which has only been identified in three colonies, Aesernia, Narnia and Tarracina, where the terrain is extremely steep and where there are only narrow ridges available for the laying out of a rectangular open space.24

21 22 23 24

Ostia, Minturnae and possibly Sinuessa in the 4th and early 3rd centuries, followed by Cremona and Placentia in the late 3rd century; in the 2nd century at least eight colonies were laid out according to the so-called castrum type: Bononia, Luca, Luna, Mutina, Parma, Pisaurum, Potentia and Pyrgi. Note, however, that Lackner identified six different types of urban layouts, but only five types of fora. Lackner 2008, 256. Lackner 2008, 256–257.

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3)

The mixed type (‘Mischtypus’), which is similar to the topological type and consists mainly of the clearing of several insulae.25 4) The orthogonal type (‘Orthogonaler Typus’), which is characterised by an access via one of the long sides and is mainly found in Latin colonies.26 5) The castrum type (‘Castrumstypus’), which, like the castrum type urban layout, seems to have been the most common type, can mainly be found in settlements situated in level terrains where cardo and decumanus maximus intersect in the centre of town, so that the forum is in alignment with the urban principal axes.27 Lackner’s study thus shows that although certain types occur repeatedly,28 the fora in Republican colonies could take different forms with their layouts predominantly determined by the topographic situation, which naturally varies from place to place.29 Another important factor is, of course, the existence of a previous settlement, especially if this settlement was already equipped with urban features as it was the case with Greek settlements in Magna Graecia. At Paestum, for instance, the former agora was significantly reduced in size since the Latin colony did not require such a large open space for assemblies. Instead, the community needed a comitium and a curia, which were built on the northern (comitium) and southern (curia) long side of the narrow elongated rectangular forum.30 Unfortunately, the evidence from Puteoli, a Roman citizen colony planted in 194 BCE at the site of the Greek town of Dikaiarcheia, is too scanty to serve as comparison.31 In the case of Pyrgi, where a Roman citizen colony replaced an earlier Etruscan site, there are hardly any remains of the Etruscan settlement left save the famous sanctuary to the east of the town.32 In Latin colonies, fora were usually laid out with the foundation of the colony. There is a set of buildings which can regularly be found flanking these fora: curia, comitium, tabernae and atrium houses, often supplemented in later times by a basilica and several porticoes. In a recent study on Latin colonies, Jamie Sewell suggested that although these colonies did not replicate Rome, they could well be understood as adapting Roman urban features, rightly pointing out that the urban centres were the result of

25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Lackner 2008, 257. Lackner 2008, 257. Lackner 2008, 257. Due to the poor state of preservation, Lackner’s survey contains a number of fora whose layout cannot be securely identified. There is no indication that the Romans when looking for a site to found a new colony specifically sought out locations that were similar to the topographic situation in Rome. Lackner 2008, 141. For the foundation: Strab. 5.4.6; Livy 34.45.1. Cf. Hesberg 1985, 141 who speculates that the Roman colony followed the plan of the castrum of Minturnae. On the differences between Greek and Roman town planning see Sewell 2010, 55–86. Cf. Steingräber 1981, 455–457; Lackner 2008, 164–165.

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careful planning, undertaken during the three-year-tenure of the triumviri.33 He identifies certain features such as the elongated form of the forum, flanked by long, narrow insulae, that can be found in several Latin colonies and could constitute a model.34 This model may have been followed by Roman citizen colonies from the 2nd century BCE onwards as a similar layout has been plausibly reconstructed for the forum of Minturnae.

Fig. 3 Plan of ancient Minturnae

This colony was originally founded in 296/295 BCE on the western bank of the river Liris (modern Garigliano) at the border between Latium and Campania.35 The earliest settlement has not been excavated yet, and there are only scarce remains of its city walls, which are usually thought to have formed a castrum similar to Ostia.36 However, in the 33 34 35 36

Sewell 2010, 80–85; Sewell 2014, 126–129. Sewell 2014, 128. Livy 8.10.11; Livy 22.14.3; Vell. Pat. 1.14.6. Hesberg 1985, 139–141.

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Fig. 4 Plan of ancient Luna

early 2nd century BCE the town expanded beyond the city walls, and a new quarter was laid out to the west which included a forum.37 The design of this forum may have been inspired by the fora of Latin colonies such as Cosa or Fregellae, but it was much smaller 37

The dating of the urban expansion is linked to a reference in Livy 36.37.3 relating that the temple of Jupiter and some tabernae at the forum were struck by lightning. This occurred in 191 BCE, indicating that by then the forum of Minturnae had already been built.

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in extent and lacked a curia and comitium.38 The narrow side of the forum, to the north of the decumanus maximus, was dominated by a temple, presumably the Capitolium, and a surrounding porticus triplex.39 The forum of Minturnae itself may in turn have served as a prototype for other fora in Roman citizen colonies such as the one in Luna. Like the forum in Minturnae, the forum in Luna was much smaller than the fora identified in Latin colonies.40 Its dominating feature is again the large temple situated at the forum’s north-eastern side, which was most likely dedicated to the Capitoline Triad.41 This model of elongated forum lined with porticoes and dominated on the narrow side by a large temple set on a podium was later adopted by Caesar and Augustus for their fora in Rome. Thus, some aspects of what could be regarded as typical features of Roman urbanism first appeared not in Rome itself, but in the colonies.42 However, not all Roman citizen colonies established in the 2nd century BCE built the same type of forum. At Liternum, the forum was divided along its longitudinal axis, with the eastern half framed by a portico and the western half containing communal buildings as well as a temple.43 As for the earlier Roman citizen colonies, it was only the community at Minturnae that decided to construct a forum in the early 2nd century BCE, most likely due to the singular circumstances that required the laying out of a new city centre. Other Roman citizen colonies did not build a forum until late Republican or early Imperial times, as in the case of Ostia or Tarracina. Another focus of building activity especially in the 2nd and 1st centuries BCE were sanctuaries, many of which were remodelled and monumentalised during that time. In Rome, which had always been a bustling centre of temple-building,44 a new architectural language seems to have set in after the victory over Hannibal and the Carthaginians, 38

39 40 41

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On the forum of Minturnae see Lackner 2008, 122–123; see also several contributions in Bellini/ Hesberg 2015. Since Roman citizen colonies due to their different legal status had no need for a curia and comitium, they originally did not possess a representative public open space, cf. Lackner 2008, 286–287. Boos 2011b, 118–121. In Imperial times, another temple was added. On the temples at the forum of Minturnae see also Bankel 2015. The location of the Republican temple could have been determined by a lightning strike, as there is a bidental right next to the temple. The forum in Luna has an open area of ca. 37 × 80 m, while the forum of the roughly contemporary Latin colony of Luca is estimated to have possessed an open area of ca. 71 × 142 m, cf. Lackner 2008, 108, 115. Quinn/Wilson 2013, 24–25 argue that there is no positive evidence – such as inscriptions or cult statues – that would prove the temple’s dedication to the Capitoline Triad, therefore the temple at the forum of Luna should not be interpreted as a Capitolium. They are also sceptical about the existence of Capitolia in Ostia, Tarracina, Minturnae and Liternum. For a different approach, regarding specifically Roman citizen colonies, see Boos 2011b, 221–224. Cf. Laurence/Cleary/Sears 2011 passim. The communal buildings – an odeion and a basilica – are of Imperial date, cf. Lackner 2008 106 with further references. On the temple see Boos 2011b, 146–147. Many temples were erected by aediles, victorious generals or on the recommendation of the Sibylline Books. For an overview see Ziolkowski 1992; Orlin 2010.

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Fig. 5 Plan of ancient Cora

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which is often connected to Hellenistic ideals.45 In 204 BCE, the Asian goddess Magna Mater was officially introduced in Rome and received a temple on the Palatine hill overlooking the forum.46 During the ludi Megalenses, the festival dedicated to Magna Mater, which included dramatic performances, the stairs and open space in front of the temple served as a stage, thus displaying traits characteristic of theatre-temple-complexes.47 Another feature indicating Hellenistic architectural influence are temples surrounded by porticoes. One of the earliest examples of such a building type in Rome is the sanctuary complex near the Circus Flaminius, consisting of the temples of Juno Regina48 and Jupiter Stator49 which in 131 BCE were enclosed by the Porticus Metelli.50 In the colonies, we can observe the rebuilding of many sanctuary sites over the course of the 2nd century BCE. At Cora, an old Latin colony situated in northeast Latium on the slope of a hill belonging to the Monti Lepini, the old temple situated above the ancient town on a hill that was most likely the arx was replaced by a Doric temple erected at the south-western corner of an artificially constructed terrace resting on vaulted substructures. An inscription found on the cella architrave documents that the building had been commissioned by the duumviri following a resolution of the Senate.51 In Signia, another Latin colony located nearby on the edge of the Sacco valley, similar building projects were launched in that period. Just below the summit of the Pianillo hill, which at 670 metres constitutes the highest elevation within the settlement, a large space of approximately 300 × 80 metres was laid out on a massive terrace in polygonal masonry, dominated by a truly imposing temple placed in the centre and flanked by porticoes.52 Nearby Norba also underwent significant urban renewal in the

45 46 47 48 49

50

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Cf. Stamper 2014 with further references. The temple was dedicated in 191 BCE; cf. LTUR III, 206–208 s. v. Magna Mater, aedes (P. Pensabene). Cf. Livy 36.37.3. Built between 187 and 179 BCE, cf. LTUR III, 126–128 s. v. Iuno Regina, aedes (A. Viscogliosi). Built between 143 and 131 and according to Vitr. De arch. 3.2.5 the first temple in the city of Rome to be built of marble, cf. LTUR III, 157–159 s. v. Iuppiter Stator, aedes ad circum (A. Viscogliosi). Note, however, that the temple-portico-complex at the fora of Minturnae and Luna predate the Porticus Metelli by several decades. Built by C. Caecilius Metellus from his war booty and decorated with spoils from his campaign in Macedonia, cf. LTUR IV, 130–132 s. v. Porticus Metelli (A. Viscogliosi); cf. also Albers 2013, 77–83. Note, however, that the temple-portico-complex at the fora of Minturnae and Luna predate the Porticus Metelli by several decades. CIL X 6517; on the temple on the arx of Cora see also Boos 2011b, 186–187 with further references; Ceccarelli/Marroni 2011, 131–132. Cifarelli 2003; Cifarelli 2012. The temple, due to its elevated position and its tripartite cella, was originally thought to be a Capitolium (Delbrueck 1903), but then two inscriptions were discovered nearby recording dedications to Juno and Juno Moneta respectively (CIL I2 2864; CIL I2 2865), indicating that the temple was dedicated to this goddess alone.

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Fig. 6 Plan of ancient Tarracina

2nd century BCE with the monumentalisation of its main sanctuaries: two located on the city’s main elevations, the so-called Acropoli Maiore in the northeast dedicated to Diana,53 the Acropoli Minore in the southeast,54 and another sanctuary in the south-

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CIL I2 1516 = AE 1902, 79: C(aius) B+[---] Attalu[s ded]it Dianae donum [---?]; NSA-1904–446: [--?] D¢ian[a- ---?]. There are two temples on the so-called Acropoli Minore, however the deities they were dedicated to are unknown.

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western part of the city dedicated to Juno Lucina.55 In all three cases, the sanctuaries were imbedded in the general layout of the cities. Monumentalisations of sanctuaries were not restricted to those situated within a city’s precinct. The temple-terrace-complex on Monte S. Angelo above Tarracina perhaps constitutes the most prominent example of such a sanctuary that can be found in a colony.56 The sanctuary complex was excavated in the late 19th century and was originally thought to be dedicated to Jupiter Anxur, Tarracina’s tutelary deity.57 However, more recent scholarship tends to interpret it as a sanctuary of Venus.58 The temple, surrounded on three sides by a portico, is a hexastyle pseudo-peripteros of Corinthian order.59 With its 19.2 metres width and 33.5 metres length, it is one of the largest Corinthian temples built in Republican times.60 It is situated in the centre of a terrace on a platform that rests partly on solid rock and partly on massive substructures consisting of twelve barrel-vaulted chambers opening onto the sea, giving an impressive sight to ships approaching the coast. The oldest traces of building activity on the summit of Monte S. Angelo date back to the 4th century BCE. The building techniques used in the construction of the temple-terrace-complex indicate that it was laid out in the first half of the 1st century BCE, possibly after the Civil War between Sulla and Marius.61 Thus, while the temple-terrace-complexes in Cora, Signia and Norba, as well as the Magna Mater temple on the Palatine and the Porticus Metelli complex on the Campus Martius, formed an integral part of the cityscape, the sanctuary above Tarracina, with its orientation towards the sea, was somewhat detached from the settlement it belonged to. Although similar in building techniques and architectural elements, the effect that these sanctuaries had in their specific geographical context was quite different.62 A similar observation can be made in the municipia.

55

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AE 1903, 354 = AE 1904,170 = AE 1904, 193: Iunonii Lo(u)cina(e) / dono pro / C(aio) Rutilio / P(ubli) f(ilio); CIL I2 360 = ILLRP 163 = AE 1903, 353 = AE 1904,170 = AE 1904, 193 = AE 1997, 284: P(ublius) Rutilius M(arci) f(ilius) / Iunonei Loucina / dedit meretod / Diovos castud; CIL I2 359 = ILLRP 162 = AE 1997, 284: Iunone Locina / dono(m) pro / C(aio) Rutilio P(ubli) f(ilio). On the sanctuaries of Norba see Rescigno 2004; Quilici Gigli/Ferrante/Carfora 2003; Ceccarelli/Marroni 2011, 261–274; Quilici Gigli 2012; on the monumentalisation in particular see Quilici/Quilici Gigli 1999. For a detailed description of the sanctuary see Boos 2011b, 93–98; Ceccarelli/Marroni 2011, 491– 497. Borsari 1894. But see the critique voiced by Petersen 1895, 90. See especially Coarelli 1982, 328–332; Coarelli 1983, 232–236; Coarelli 1987, 123–127. However, Coarelli’s theory that the sanctuary was originally dedicated to Feronia and later converted into a sanctuary of Venus remains doubtful. See Bispham 2006, 110–111; Boos 2011b, 96–98. Borsari 1894, 99. Cf. Schenk 1997, 80. Cf. Coarelli 1987, 125. Cf. Maschek 2016.

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2. Monumental sanctuaries in Republican municipia By the early 1st century BCE, there were still many municipia in central Italy which had ties with Rome but were independent settlements. It has often been assumed that before the outbreak of the Social War, these municipia were striving to resemble Rome in a process described as ‘self-romanisation’. The appearance of monumental sanctuaries in the course of the 2nd century BCE was particularly interpreted in this vein as they were seen as an expression of appreciation of Hellenistic art that was introduced to Rome through its military conquests in the East and diffused from the Urbs to the colonies and then to the other towns of Italy.63 An oft-quoted example of this phenomenon is Praeneste with its famous sanctuary of Fortuna Primigenia. Monumentalised in the second half of the 2nd century BCE, this sanctuary originally extended over seven artificial terraces.64 The final levels consisted of a large terrace flanked on three sides by a portico, followed by a cavea-like structure crowned by a semi-circular portico. The terminal point was formed by a small round temple. This sanctuary, which has inspired architects and urban planners ever since,65 is remarkable not only due to the impressive engineering skills employed in the construction of the terraces and the harmonic composition of platforms, ramps and porticoes, but also due to the way the man-made complex is embedded in the natural surroundings which in the past has often been interpreted as a sign of subjugation of nature unto human will.66 While originally thought to have been constructed during Sulla’s dictatorship,67 it is now clear that it was erected in the 2nd century BCE and may have been commissioned by the Senate of Praeneste.68 Despite its grandeur and position high above the city, the sanctuary formed an integral part of the cityscape. Rising just behind the forum area, which was originally thought to be part of the sanctuary as well, it faced the city and thus appeared to be communicating with it.69 Quite different was the situation in nearby Tibur with its monumental temple dedicated to Hercules Victor. It was located outside the city above an important trade route, the Via Tiburtina, which passes as via tecta underneath the substructions of the monumental temple-terrace-complex. It consisted of a terrace measuring 188 × 140 metres surrounded on three sides by a portico, a temple situated in the centre of the terrace and

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See Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 103–105 with references. See Ceccarelli/Marroni 2011, 359–429 with bibliography. Cf. Merz 2001. But see Maschek 2016 for a phenomenological approach to landscape and architecture. Cf. Lugli 1954. For a dating to the mid-second century BCE based on an analysis of the construction technique see Fasolo/Gullini 1953; a dating to the late 2nd century BCE is supported by epigraphic evidence, see Degrassi 1978. At the same time it is oriented towards Antium, where there was another important Fortuna sanctuary, thereby connecting Praeneste with the wider region.

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a theatre-like cavea at its feet.70 In the substructions, several rooms were discovered to be used as tabernae, pointing to Hercules’ function as protector of trade, while his epitheton Victor indicates a military aspect.71 In contrast to the Fortuna sanctuary in Praeneste, this temple-terrace-complex is not only extra muros, but also turned away from the city towards Rome. It greeted the visitor travelling on the Via Tiburtina from Rome, just like the Venus sanctuary above Tarracina greeted those arriving from the sea. Many other temple-terrace-complexes can be found in Republican Italy, not just in colonies and municipia, but also in cult-places that were not directly connected to a settlement.72 In many instances terraced sanctuaries are also connected with a theatre-like structure.

Fig. 7 Italic sanctuaries with the so-called ‘theatre-temple’ pattern surrounded by porticoes

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For a description see Ceccarelli/Marroni 2011, 538–552 with further references. In this the cult must have been similar to Rome, where Hercules Victor also had military as well as mercantile connotations. According to legend, the cult was originally introduced by the Tiburtines after a victory over their neighbours, cf. Serv. Aen. 8.285. Like Mars in Rome, Hercules Victor of Tibur had a college of Salian priests (Macrob. Sat. 3.12.7). That Hercules Victor was also an oracular god is attested through a reference in Statius’ Silvae (Stat. Silv. 1.3.79–80: quod ni templa darent alias Tirynthia sortes, et Praenestinae poterant migrare sorores) as well as an inscription discovered in the sanctuary, bearing the words: Delanei H(erculis?) V(ictoris?) sortiar(ius?), cf. CIL I2 1484. Cf. Rous 2010; Stek 2014; Carini 2016.

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As mentioned above, it has often been argued that they were the result of the Hellenisation of Rome following its military campaigns in the Hellenistic East during the 3rd and 2nd centuries BCE which gave rise to the close contact they had with Greek art and architecture. The Hellenistic fashion was then diffused in central Italy via the colonies and the allied municipia whose citizens participated in those campaigns and were likewise exposed to Greek culture. However, Alessandro D’Alessio has rightly pointed out that the connection between the appearance of such monumental complexes in Italy and the Roman conquests in the East may not have had that much to do with an admiration for Hellenistic art witnessed by the Romans and their socii on their campaigns in Greece, Asia Minor and the Levant, but rather with the influx of wealth that washed into Rome and its allied communities and with the sheer number of slaves that were brought to Italy, constituting a cheap workforce and thus allowing much faster building than ever before.73 Another important economic factor D’Alessio refers to is the expansion of Roman and Italic trade in the Eastern Mediterranean, bringing forth a new elite of wealthy merchants who adorned their hometowns with new buildings.74 In addition, a new building technique had just begun to revolutionise Roman architecture: opus caementicium. This concrete, consisting of sand, water, burnt limestone and crushed rocks, was a durable material able to withstand compressive forces and therefore allowing new types of construction and building dimensions that would not have been possible with stone, timber and bricks. It also permitted a repeatability of forms and speed of construction which meant that building projects could be executed much faster and at a lower cost than ever before.75 Wealth, cheap labour forces and a new building material thus were the prerequisites that in the 2nd century BCE allowed the onset of a new architectural fashion in which immense vaulted structures, terraced open spaces and colonnaded porticoes became recurring elements. They occurred as parts of the process of urban renewal not just in Rome but in many towns of Italy, regardless of their civic status. 3. Roman urbanism and individual development There is no doubt that Rome had great influence on the urban design and architectural adornment of the colonies and municipia in Italy, but there was also plenty of room for individual developments. The urban sociologist, Martina Löw, calls this individual development the ‘intrinsic logic’ of cities.76 This means that urban settlements ought 73 74 75 76

D’Alessio 2016 with further references. D’Alessio 2016, 150. D’Alessio 2016, 150–152. Löw 2012.

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to be regarded as highly complex social and spatial entities that followed an internal logic which made every site unique. In the architectural layout of a settlement, the decisions of its inhabitants – either as groups or as individuals – become manifest, and the architecture can be seen as a reflection of the political, socio-economic, symbolic, functional and ideological activities within a community.77 Archaeologists of course have only limited possibilities to explore this intrinsic logic, since there are often very few remains left and sometimes they do not reveal anything about the decision making process that led to the construction of a building, a road, a square and so forth. But it is important to keep in mind that individual or collective actions constantly changed townscapes. In some cases, those actions may have been determined by a desire to emulate a building or an urbanistic feature known from Rome, but in other cases they were not. Despite the realisation that every site is unique, we can detect certain similarities between some of the settlements. Looking at colonies established from the late 3rd century BCE onwards, we can see that those laid out on flat terrain often follow the so-called castrum type, with a more or less rectangular ground plan, a regular street grid and a forum in a central location. Obviously, these settlements were designed ‘on the drawing-board’ by city-planners who drew on past experiences in town planning.78 But how exactly did this planning process look like? Did the tresviri coloniae deducendae decide upon the layout in advance or were the city-planners free to design a layout that would serve the colony’s requirements as they saw fit? We do not know. Some written records indicate that Roman officials could take an active role in the embellishment of the colonies, as in the case of the censors, Q. Fulvius Flaccus and A. Postumius Albinus, who – apparently by official order – had the walls of Calatia and Auximum erected and the fora of these two colonies lined with tabernae; the former even contracted several other buildings in various colonies on his own authority.79 77

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Obvious individual aspects would be the natural environment (flat, hilly or mountainous terrain, soil quality, micro-climate, water access etc.) and the historical development of each site which can be influenced by events in the larger geopolitical sphere, but also by decisions of the community or individuals. That the planning of street grids according to an orthogonal plan was considered common practice becomes evident also in a note in Livy (5.55.2–5), who reports on the reconstruction of Rome after the Gallic invasion, when the Romans first debated whether to move to newly conquered Veii but Camillus got them to stay in Rome and rebuild it: antiquata deinde lege promiscue urbs aedificari coepta tegula publice praebita est; saxi materiaeque caedendae, unde quisque vellet ius factum praedibus acceptis eo anno aedificia perfecturos festinatio curam exemit vicos dirigendi, dum omisso sui alienique discrimine in vacuo aedificant ea est causa ut veteres cloacae, primo per publicum ductae, nunc privata passim subeant tecta, formaque urbis sit occupatae magis quam divisae similis Cf. Livy 41.27.11–13: idem Calatiae et Auximi muros faciendos locaverunt; venditisque ibi publicis locis pecuniam, quae redacta erat, tabernis utrique foro circumdandis consumpserunt et alter ex iis Fulvius Flaccus – nam Postumius nihil nisi senatus Romani populive iussu se locaturum edixit – ipsorum pecunia Iovis aedem Pisauri et Fundis et Potentiae etiam aquam adducendam, et Pisauri viam silice sternendam, et Sinuessae magalia addenda … aviariae in his et cloacas et murum circumducendum … et forum

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Aside from such building projects being undertaken in the initial phases of the colonies, the settlements also developed differently over time, which is what could be called their internal logic: while the people of Minturnae decided to construct a forum in the early 2nd century BCE, the inhabitants of Ostia did not build an open public space until Augustan times. Tarracina also received a forum during the reign of Augustus, financed by an individual, A. Aemilius.80 The town monumentalised an extra-urban sanctuary that was not integrated in the city-scape but facing the sea, while Cora, Signia and Norba built terraced sanctuaries inside the city-walls. Other settlements never constructed a monumental sanctuary at all. Individual development is even more important when considering the municipia. Each town had to negotiate its relationship not only with Rome but also with other communities. In the case of Tibur, Elisabeth Buchet recently showed that at the end of the 2nd century BCE, the Tiburtine Senate began a series of renovations such as the restoration of a rectangular temple and the erection of a round temple on the arx, the restructuring of the forum and the monumentalisation of the sanctuary of Hercules Victor. The money for these projects must have come at least in part from successful Tiburtine merchants, for whom the Roman expansion in the East had opened up new business opportunities.81 This large-scale building programme is often thought to have been driven by the Tiburtines’ wish to prove themselves worthy of Roman citizenship, but another explanation could be that the Tiburtines expressed their wealth and civic pride in their thriving community quite independently of Rome.82 4. Conclusions Colonies as well as municipia were embedded in a social and political context in which Rome played a dominant role. The Second Punic War, for instance, had repercussions throughout Italy, both demographically, as many lives were lost during the conflict, and politically, as all communities had to decide whether to break away from Rome or to stay true – with all the consequences that ensued. The increase in building activity which can be observed in many places all over Italy in the 2nd and 1st centuries BCE was in great part due to the political and economic circumstances related to Rome’s

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porticibus tabernisque claudendum et Ianos tres faciendos haec ab uno censore opera locata cum magna gratia colonorum. For the possible significance of this passage, see also Roth’s contribution to this volume. Cf. the dedicatory inscription inserted in the forum pavement (CIL X 6306): A(ulus) Aemilius A(uli) f(ilius) strav[it p(ecunia) s(ua)]. Buchet 2012, 357; cf. also Buchet 2015, passim. Buchet 2012, 357–358 rightly points out that there are several architectural innovations to be found in Tibur at the time which cannot be found in contemporary Rome, such as a cryptoporticus near the forum or the cavea included in the sanctuary of Hercules.

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military campaigns, and to the development and large-scale use of opus caementicium which made building projects more affordable. Still, these building projects cost money. Whether or not a forum was embellished or even constructed (in the case of older Roman citizen colonies), or whether a sanctuary was monumentalised, was perhaps mainly dependent on the financial situation of the individual towns and their inhabitants. Emulation did occur, but it was not always necessarily an architectural design or urbanistic feature that had first appeared in Rome which would be adapted. This also goes for Imperial times, most prominently at Munigua, a town in southern Spain which became a municipium under Vespasian. Here, a sanctuary was built in the 2nd century CE which used an architectural form taken from the Fortuna Primigenia sanctuary in Praeneste.83 And the forum design of Minturnae and Luna inspired not only the fora in other colonies and municipia, but also the design of the Imperial Fora in Rome.84 Rome was exceptional. It was, as Livy put it in a speech he attributed to Furius Camillus, ideally placed in the heart of Italy, in a spot that was of a nature uniquely adapted for the expansion of a city.85 The members of the Roman elite were in constant competition with each other, which manifested itself in countless buildings, culminating in the ambitious projects undertaken by Caesar and Pompey and finally the Emperors. Rome may have been a trend-setter, supplying ideas for architectural designs other towns may have wished to follow, but it would be wrong to see the colonies and municipia of Republican Italy as having been constantly striving to imitate Rome and instead leave more room for individual urban development. There seems to have been a substantial amount of exchange of ideas and inspirations between Rome and the towns under Roman rule, and each town was subject to the individual decisions of its inhabitants that would shape its appearance. List of Illustrations Fig. 1: Plan of ancient Cosa. After Lackner 2008, 347 (revised by R. Vassileva / V. Kronauer) Fig. 2: Plan of Late-Republican Ostia. After Scavi di Ostia I Fig. 29 (revised by R. Vassileva / V. Kronauer)

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Cf. Schattner 2004; on the monumentalisation of Munigua in Imperial times see Tatarkiewicz 2011. Cf. Laurence/Cleary/Sear 2011, 39 who point out that the colonies articulated an idea of urbanism and helped to develop a coherent notion of what was regarded as a Roman city. Livy 5.54.4: non sine causa di hominesque hunc urbi condendae locum elegerunt, saluberrimos colles, flumen opportunum, quo ex mediterraneis locis fruges deuehantur, quo maritimi commeatus accipiantur, mari uicinum ad commoditates nec expositum nimia propinquitate ad pericula classium externarum, regionum Italiae medium, ad incrementum urbis natum unice locum.

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Fig. 3: Plan of ancient Minturnae. After Lackner 2008, 358 (revised by R. Vassileva / V. Kronauer) Fig. 4: Plan of ancient Luna. After Lackner 2008, 356 (revised by R. Vassileva) Fig. 5: Plan of ancient Cora. After Lackner 2008, 346 (revised by R. Vassileva / V. Kronauer) Fig. 6: Plan of ancient Tarracina. After Lackner 2008, 381 (revised by R. Vassileva / V. Kronauer) Fig. 7: Italic sanctuaries with the so-called ‘theatre-temple’ pattern surrounded by porticoes. After D’Alessio 2016 Fig. 7 Bibliography Albers 2013 = J. Albers, Campus Martius. Die urbane Entwicklung des Marsfeldes von der Republik bis zur mittleren Kaiserzeit, Wiesbaden Bankel 2015 = H. Bankel, La pianta complessiva di Minturnae e i due templi nel cd. Foro Repubblicano. Un rapporto preliminare, in: Bellini/Hesberg (Eds.), 13–25 Bellini/Hesberg 2015 = G. R. Bellini / H. v. Hesberg (Eds.), Minturnae. Nuovi contributi alla conoscenza della Forma Urbis, Roma Bispham 2006 = E. Bispham, Coloniam deducere: How Roman was Roman Colonization during the Middle Republic?, in: G. Bradley / J. P. Wilson (Eds.), Greek and Roman Colonization. Origins, Ideologies and Interactions, Swansea, 73–160 Boos 2011a = M. Boos, In excelsissimo loco – an Approach to Poliadic Deities in Roman Colonies, in: D. Mladenovic / B. Russel (Eds.), TRAC 2010. Proceedings of the Twentieth Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, Oxford 25–28 March 2010, Oxbow, 18–31 Boos 2011b = M. Boos, Heiligtümer römischer Bürgerkolonien. Archäologische Untersuchungen zur sakralen Ausstattung republikanischer coloniae civium Romanorum, Rahden/Westf. Borsari 1894 = L. Borsari, Terracina. Del tempio di Giove Anxur scoperta sulla vetta di Monte S. Angelo, in: Notizie degli Scavi 1894, 96–111 Brown 1980 = F. E. Brown, Cosa. The Making of a Roman Town, Ann Arbor Brown/Hill Richardson/Richardson Jr. 1960 = F. E. Brown / L. Hill Richardson / L. Richardson Jr., Cosa II. The Temples of the Arx. Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 26, Rome Buchet 2012 = E. Buchet, Tiburnus, Albunea, Hercules Victor: The Cults of Tibur between Integration and Assertion of Local Identity, in: S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden-Boston, 355–64 Buchet 2015 = E. Buchet, Tibur et Rome. L’integration d’une cite latine, Dijon Caliò/Lepone/Lippolis 2011 = L. M. Caliò / A. Lepone / E. Lippolis, Larinum: The Development of the forum Area, in: F. Colivicchi (Ed.), Local Cultures of South Italy and Sicily in the Late Republican Period: Between Hellenism and Rome, Portsmouth, RI, 77–112 Carini 2016 = A. Carini, I grandi santuari dell’Italia tra il II e il I secolo a. C., in: M. Bolder-Boos / D. Maschek (Hgg.), Orte der Forschung, Orte des Glaubens. Neue Perspektiven für Heiligtümer in Italien von der Archaik bis zur Späten Republik, Bonn, 165–77 Ceccarelli/Marroni 2011 = L. Ceccarelli / E. Marroni, Repertorio dei santuari del Lazio, Roma Cifarelli 2003 = F. M. Cifarelli, Il tempio di Giunone Moneta sull’acropoli di Segni. Storia, topografia e decorazione architettonica, Roma

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Cifarelli 2012 = F. M. Cifarelli, I santuari di Signia, Ostraka, 373–86 Coarelli 1982 = F. Coarelli, Lazio. Guide Archeologiche Laterza, Roma Coarelli 1983 = F. Coarelli, I santuari del Lazio e della Campania tra i Gracchi e le guerre civili, in: Les “bourgeoisies” municipales italiennes aux II. et I. siècles av. J.-C. Colloques internationaux du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Paris-Naples, 217–40 Coarelli 1987 = F. Coarelli, I santuari del Lazio in età Repubblicana, Roma D’Alessio 2016 = A. D’Alessio, Italic Sanctuaries and the Onset of the “Total Architecture”. Some Observations on the Phenomenon, in: M. Bolder-Boos / D. Maschek (Hgg.), Orte der Forschung, Orte des Glaubens. Neue Perspektiven für Heiligtümer in Italien von der Archaik bis zur Späten Republik, Bonn, 149–63 De Gioia 1982 = E. De Gioia, La cattedrale di Terracina, Roma Degrassi 1978 = A. Degrassi, Epigrafica IV.1. Quando fu costruito il santuario della Fortuna Primigenia di Palestrina, in: F. Coarelli (Ed.), Studi su Praeneste, Perugia, 146–65 Delbrueck 1903 = R. Delbrueck, Das Capitolium von Signia, Roma Demissie (Ed.) 2012 = F. Demissie (Ed.), Colonial Architecture and Urbanism in Africa. Intertwined and Contested Histories, Farnham Fasolo/Gullini 1953 = F. Fasolo / G. Gullini, Il santuario della fortuna primigenia a Palestrina, Roma Fentress 2000 = E. Fentress, Frank Brown, Cosa and the idea of a Roman city, in: E. Fentress (Ed.), Romanization and the City. Creation, Transformations, and Failures. Proceedings of a Conference held at the American Academy in Rome to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the Excavations at Cosa, 14–16 May 1998, Journal of Roman Archaelogy Suppl. 38, Portsmouth, RI, 11–24 Hänlein-Schäfer 1985 = H. Hänlein-Schäfer, Veneratio Augusti. Eine Studie zu den Tempeln des ersten römischen Kaisers, Rom Harvey Jr. 2006 = P. B. Harvey Jr., Religion and Memory at Pisaurum, in: C. E. Schultz / P. B. Harvey Jr. (Eds.), Religion in Republican Italy, Cambridge, 117–36 Hesberg 1985 = H. v. Hesberg, Zur Plangestaltung der Coloniae maritimae, in: Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung 92, 127–50 Lackner 2008 = E.-M. Lackner, Republikanische Fora. Eine städtebaulich-historische Analyse, München Laurence/Cleary/Sears 2011 = R. Laurence / S. E. Cleary / G. Sears (Eds.), The City in the Roman West c. 250 BC – c. AD 250, Cambridge Löw 2012 = M. Löw, The Intrinsic Logic of Cities: towards a new Theory on Urbanism, in: Urban Research & Practice 5/3, 303–15 Lugli 1954 = G. Lugli, Il santuario della Fortuna Primigenia in Praeneste e la sua datazione, Rendiconti delle sedute dell’Accademina Nazionale dei Lincei. Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche (Series 8) 9.3–4, 51–87 Martin 1996 = A. Martin, Un saggio sulle mura del castrum di Ostia (Reg. I, ins. x, 3), in: A. Gallina Zevi / A. Claridge (Eds.), ‘Roman Ostia’ Revisited, Rome, 19–38 Maschek 2016 = D. Maschek, Architekturlandschaften. Eine phänomenologische Analyse spätrepublikanischer Heilgtümer, in: M. Bolder-Boos / D. Maschek (Hgg.), Orte der Forschung. Orte des Glaubens. Neue Perspektiven für Heiligtümer in Italien von der Archaik bis zur Späten Republik, Bonn, 131–43 Meiggs 1973 = R. Meiggs, Roman Ostia, 2nd Edn., Oxford Merz 2001 = J. M. Merz, Das Heiligtum der Fortuna in Palestrina und die Architektur der Neuzeit, München

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Orlin 2010 = E. M. Orlin, Foreign Cults in Rome. Creating a Roman Empire, Oxford Pasquali 1988 = M. I. Pasquali, La Via Appia e il Capitolium di Terracina, in: A. R. Mari / R. Malizia / P. Longo / M. I. Pasquali (Eds.), La Via Appia a Terracina. La strada romana e i suoi monumenti, Casamari, 144–58 Petersen 1895 = E. Petersen, Funde, in: Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung 10, 86–90 Quilici/Quilici Gigli 1999 = L. Quilici / S. Quilici Gigli, Norba. La monumentalizzazione tardo repubblicana dell’acropoli maggiore, in: L. Quilici (Ed.), Città e monumenti nell’Italia antica, Roma, 237–66 Quilici Gigli 2012 = S. Quilici Gigli, Norba. La topografia del sacro, Ostraka, 411–19 Quilici Gigli/Ferrante/Carfora 2003 = S. Quilici Gigli / S. Ferrante / P. Carfora (Eds.), Norba. L’acropoli minore e i suoi temple, in: L. Quilici / S. Quilici Gigli (Eds.), Santuari e luoghi di culto nell’Italia antica, Roma, 288–327 Quinn/Wilson 2013 = J. C. Quinn / A. Wilson, Capitolia, in: Journal of Roman Studies, 1–57 Rous 2010 = B. D. Rous, Triumphs of Compromise. An Analysis of the Monumentalisation of Sanctuaries in Latium in the Late Republican Period (Second and First Centuries BC). PhD dissertation, University of Amsterdam (http://hdl.handle.net/11245/1.327031) Salmon 1969 = E. T. Salmon, Roman Colonization under the Republic, London Schattner 2004 = T. Schattner, Gedanken zu Situation und Lage des Terrassenheiligtums von Munigua (Prov. Sevilla), in: E.-L. Schwandner / K. Rheidt (Hgg.), Macht der Architektur, Architektur der Macht. Bauforschungskolloquium in Berlin vom 30. Oktober bis 2. November 2002, Mainz, 241–49 Schenk 1997 = R. Schenk, Der korinthische Tempel bis zum Ende des Prinzipats des Augustus, Rahden/Westf. Sewell 2010 = J. Sewell, The Formation of Roman Urbanism, 338–200 B. C.: Between Contemporary Foreign Influence and Roman Tradition, Portsmouth, RI Sewell 2014 = J. Sewell, Gellius, Philipp II and a Proposed End to the ‘model-replica’ Debate, in: T. D. Stek / J. Pelgrom (Eds.), Roman Republican Colonization. New Perspectives from Archaeology and Ancient History, Rome, 125–39 Sommella Mura 2009 = A. Sommella Mura, Il tempio di Giove Capitolino. Una nuova proposta di lettura, in: Annali della Fondazione per il Museo Claudio Faina 16, 333–72 Stamper 2005 = J. W. Stamper, The Architecture of Roman Temples. The Republic to the Middle Empire, Cambridge Stamper 2013 = J. W. Stamper, The Capitoline Temples of Rome and its Colonies. Cosa and Pompeii, in: T. Kaizer / A. Leone / E. Thomas (Eds.), Cities and Gods. Religious Space in Transition, Leuven, 9–20 Stamper 2014 = J. W. Stamper, Urban Sanctuaries. The Early Republic to Augustus, in: R. B. Ulrich / C. K. Quenemoen (Eds.), A Companion to Roman Architecture, Malden Mass., 207–27 Steingräber 1981 = S. Steingräber, Etrurien. Städte – Heiligtümer – Nekropolen, München Stek 2009 = T. D. Stek, Kolonies, culten en gemeenschappen. De ‘religieuze romanisering van Italië in de republikeinse periode, in: Lampas 42, 171–85 Stek 2014 = T. D. Stek, Monumental Architecture of non-urban Cult Places in Roman Italy, in: R. B. Ulrich / C. K. Quenemoen (Eds.), A Companion to Roman Architecture, Chichester, 228–47 Tatarkiewicz 2011 = A. Tatarkiewicz, Muniga. Some Remarks concerning the Monumentalisation of the Town since the Reign of the Flavian Dynasty, in: S. Ruciński / C. Balbuza / K. Królczyk (Eds.), Studia Lesco Mrozewicz ab amicis et discipulis dedicata, Poznań, 417–24

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Waarsenburg 1998 = D. J. Waarsenburg, De oudste sporen van Ostia. Van de Bronstijd tot de stichting van het castrum, in: Hermeneus 70,2, 60–9 Wallace-Hadrill 2008 = A. Wallace-Hadrill, Rome’s Cultural Revolution, Cambridge Ziolkowski 1992 = A. Ziolkowski, The Tempels of Mid-Republican Rome and their Historical and Topographical Context, Rome

Les ligues italiennes de la soumission à Rome à l’intégration Stéphane Bourdin (Université Lumière Lyon 2-UMR 5189 HiSoMa Lyon) L’Italie apparaît dans les sources littéraires comme un ensemble de peuples, qui possèdent pour la plupart une organisation de type « confédéral » ou « ligue » ; Rome elle-même ferait partie ou serait associée à la ligue latine, depuis l’époque royale et jusqu’à sa dissolution en 338.1 Le fonctionnement de ces ligues, plus ou moins bien connu, semble reposer sur des éléments invariables : un général en chef désigné en temps de guerre, un sanctuaire « fédéral », lieu de délibération et de panégyries, comme le fanum Voltumnae des Étrusques ou le Cirque maritime des Herniques, une assemblée de représentants etc.2 Après la conquête romaine, ce système se désagrègerait, Rome privilégiant les relations bilatérales et déséquilibrées avec les différentes communautés membres de ces ligues. Toutefois, les dates, les rythmes et les mécanismes de cette disparition, ainsi que les continuités éventuelles entre ces ligues et le système politique mis en place par les insurgés lors de la guerre sociale ne sont pas parfaitement bien connus et nous voudrions ici nous concentrer sur cet aspect. Autre difficulté : ces ligues apparaissent avant tout dans des sources qui remontent à une date pour laquelle elles sont censées être en cours de démantèlement : les sources littéraires qui les décrivent remontent, au mieux, au IVe s. et surtout aux IIIe–IIe s., donc après la conclusion des foedera avec Rome. Les monnaies, qui sont attribuées aux ligues des Lucaniens ou des Bruttiens, datent de la 2e guerre punique, au mieux3 etc. Les sanctuaires « fédéraux » régulièrement invoqués dans le débat sur les ligues italiennes, comme Pietrabbondante chez les Samnites Pentriens ou Rossano di Vaglio

1 2 3

Bourdin 2012, 278–298. Sur ces points, voir en général Bourdin 2012, 277–355 et Bourdin 2018. Cappelletti 2002, 47 f.

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chez les Lucaniens,4 sont avant tout connus à travers leurs phases des IIe–Ier s. av. J.-C. C’est donc à partir d’une documentation essentiellement des IIIe–Ier s. que nous reconstituons le cadre du fonctionnement de ces ligues pour les époques antérieures. Il semble donc particulièrement intéressant de comprendre l’évolution des ensembles ethniques italiens pendant cette période, et ce d’autant plus que, depuis K. J. Beloch,5 on pense que l’impérialisme romain s’est appuyé sur la mise en place d’une « confédération » italienne, Rome utilisant les troupes auxiliaires de ses alliés. Mais là encore, on ne sait pas dans le détail comment fonctionnait la formula togatorum, sur quelle base (« fédérale » ou individuelle) s’effectuait le dilectus etc. Revenons donc sur toutes ces questions. 1. Des ligues italiennes à la « confédération » sous hégémonie romaine On connaît en Italie une trentaine de « peuples », de populations désignées par un nom collectif, que l’on appelle le plus souvent en latin nomen/gens, en ombrien numen et en grec ἔθνοϛ, bien que les auteurs antiques ne s’appliquent pas toujours rigoureusement cette terminologie et utilisent parfois pour désigner des « peuples » des termes qui qualifient normalement les communautés locales (populus par exemple), ou des ensembles politiques, comme les populations celtiques de Cisalpine, comme des gentes/ἔθνη.6 Ces peuples sont pensés comme des regroupements d’unités politiques plus restreintes (πόλις, ciuitas, populus, res publica, ras-, touto), que les Modernes identifient comme des « cités » ou, pour les zones internes, comme des « tribus ». Ils possédaient une organisation particulière, des institutions communes, ce qui est rendu dans les sources littéraires par des termes comme κοινόν ou σύστημα, termes couramment employés pour désigner les structures fédérales grecques (Étoliens, Achéens etc.) Denys d’Halicarnasse par exemple parle du κοινόν des πόλεις des Latins (la ligue latine) et plus généralement des κοινά des Sabins, des Samnites ou des Volsques. Les Modernes, eux, emploient pour les qualifier des termes variés, « Staatenbund », « ligue », « confédération », « systèmes d’État », pour rendre l’idée d’organismes qui possèdent des prérogatives communes, mais n’ont pas atteint le niveau d’intégration des États fédéraux (Bundestaat) (monnaie commune, citoyenneté commune etc.).7 Le fonctionnement de ces ligues est assez bien connu, même si l’image qu’en donnent les sources littéraires est souvent assez stéréotypée, jusque dans la surabondance de détails avec laquelle Denys décrit les réunions des Latins au lucus Ferentinae

4 5 6 7

Cf. communication d’O. de Cazanove et P. Poccetti au colloque La Lucanie entre deux mers. Archéologie et patrimoine, Paris 5–7 novembre 2015. Beloch 1880. Bourdin 2012, 175–276. Sur tous ces points, je me permets de renvoyer à mon étude récente : Bourdin 2018.

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à l’époque royale par exemple.8 La plupart des peuples d’Italie possèdent un organe de délibération, présenté parfois comme une assemblée des citoyens (l’ἐκκλησία des Volsques)9 ou comme un conseil formé de délégués des différentes communautés (πρόβουλοι, principes, proceres, ἐπιφανέστατοι), comme le concilium gentis des Èques au Ve s.,10 les concilia des Ligures,11 le concilium/ἀγορά/ἐκκλησία/σύλλογος des 12 populi d’Étrurie,12 dans lequel se réunissaient les représentants des cités, choisis parmi les notables (principes pour Tite-Live) ;13 Tite-Live précise (et il est la seule source à le dire) que le concilium se réunissait dans le sanctuaire de Vertumnus (fanum Voltumnae), que l’on localise habituellement à Volsinies,14 qui discutait de la paix et de la guerre, levait une armée commune et votait des decreta.15 Ces assemblées désignent un général en chef (στρατηγὸς αὐτοκράτωρ, ἡγεμών, βασιλεύς, dux, princeps, imperator etc.), parfois un étranger (Sextus Tarquin en 504 à la tête de l’armée sabine, Coriolan à la tête des Volsques en 491), ou un « indigène », comme Attius Tullius chez les Volsques, Cloelius Gracchus chez les Èques ou Caius Pontius chez les Samnites, parfois aidé de lieutenants (praetores), qui commandent vraisemblablement les contingents individuels des différentes cités, et d’un conseil (concilium, senatus). La principale question en suspens est le degré plus ou moins grand d’autonomie, ou à l’inverse d’intégration, au sein de ces ligues. Les liens entre les communautés ou les prérogatives de l’organisation centrale peuvent être plus ou moins forts : chez les Étrusques, la logique civique semble l’emporter sur la solidarité confédérale ;16 en revanche, les confédérations méridionales, notamment les Lucaniens ou les Bruttiens, plus ouverts aux expériences grecques, semblent avoir mis en place des systèmes qui évoluent vers une forme de fédéralisme,17 avec un conseil de représentants (praetores),18 qui désignent en temps de guerre un général en chef (βασιλεύς pour Strabon,19 dux pour Tite-Live),20 une assemblée de citoyens (coetus ciuium),21 ce qui laisse supposer l’existence d’une citoyenneté commune, et même des lois communes aux différentes cités22 et une capitale « fédérale » (Cosentia chez les Bruttiens, Petelia métropole des Lucaniens).23 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 5,50–51. Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 8,58,1 ; Plut. Cor. 39, 4. Livy 3.2.3 ; 4.25.7. Livy 41.11.10. Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 3,59,4 ; 9,1,2 ; 18,4 ; Livy 2.44.8 ; 4.61.2 ; 5.1.9 ; 5.8 ; 10.13.3 ; 16.3. Livy 3.28.10. Stopponi 2012. Livy 4.61.6–7 ; Tac. Ann. 4.55. Pareti 1930–1931 ; Aigner Foresti 2001. Cappelletti 2002. Livy 25.16.5. Strab. 6.1.3. Livy 8.24.10. Livy 8.27.6. Ael. VH 4.1 : leges Lucanorum ; Livy 25.16.7 ; Just. Epit. 23.1.7. Strab. 6.1.3.

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Dans le détail toutefois, si la déclaration de guerre ou de paix semble se faire au niveau des « peuples », à charge pour les représentants aux conseils de rapporter et de faire appliquer les décisions par les différents populi/πόλεις, comme l’indique précisément Denys à propos des Volsques24 ou des Samnites,25 les exemples abondent de cas où les membres d’une confédération agissent pour leur propre compte, comme les Herniques qui en 306 se réunissent au Cirque maritime d’Anagni et font défection, à l’exception des populi des Alatrinates, Ferentinates et Verulani, qui refusent d’entrer en guerre contre Rome.26 De même, les Étrusques ne viennent pas au secours de Véies, assiégée par Rome entre 404 et 396, alors que les voisins immédiats, Falisques et Capénates, le font27 et en 310, Pérouse, Cortone et Arezzo signent une paix séparée avec Rome.28 Le discours Pro Balbo de Cicéron montre bien par ailleurs que si les traités sont conclus directement au niveau des ligues, comme le foedus Sabinum et surtout le foedus Cassianum, à charge pour les différentes communautés de le ratifier (ce que laisseraient supposer les mentions par exemple d’un traité avec Ardée, qui en tant que colonie latine, est membre de la ligue latine et donc souscriptrice du traité général),29 Rome privilégie les traités séparés avec les différentes communautés30 de manière à déstabiliser les ligues ennemies. Toute l’action de Rome a donc visé à mettre fin aux alliances existant entre les différents ensembles : ainsi, durant le Ve s., la stratégie de la ligue romano-latino-hernique, mise en place par le foedus Cassianum et élargie en 486, vise à briser l’alliance des Èques et des Volsques qui tentent de la prendre en tenaille.31 Par la suite, Rome a cherché systématiquement à détacher les Falisques de l’alliance étrusque ou les Lucaniens de l’alliance samnite. Rome vise en revanche à élargir son propre système d’alliance, en mettant sur pied ce que l’on a parfois appelé la « confédération italienne ». À partir de la conquête de Véies en 396, et plus encore à partir de 338, Rome établit un système, qui va perdurer jusqu’à la guerre sociale, qui voit d’une part l’intégration pure et simple de certaines communautés politiques à sa propre cité, soit par la suppression (comme Véies), soit par la transformation en municipe (Tusculum en 381), avec ou sans droit de vote et d’autre part l’établissement d’accords (indutiae, amicitia, deditio, societas …), au moyen de traités (foedera).32

24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 8.4 f. Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 17.A. Livy 9.42–43. Livy 5.8 ; 17. Livy 9.37.12. Sur le problème d’Ardée, souscriptrice d’un traité et à la fois colonie latine, cf. Sánchez 2016. Cic. Balb 8.21 : foedus avec Naples en 326 et Héraclée en 272 ; 20,46 : avec Camerinum ; 20,47 : avec Iguuium. Bourdin 2006. Humbert 1978 ; Cornell 1995, 345 f.

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Globalement, toutes les populations de la péninsule italienne passent sous le contrôle de Rome, en intégrant peu ou prou cette confédération. À l’issue de la guerre latine, en 338, certaines cités sont intégrées dans la ciuitas Romana (Lanuuium, Aricie, Nomentum, Pedum, Velitrae, Antium), tandis que Tibur, Préneste, Cora et les colonies latines conservent le commercium et le conubium avec Rome, mais non entre elles.33 La Campanie et les peuples du Sud du Latium (Volsques, Aurunces) sont progressivement intégrés dans la 2e moitié du IVe s., tandis que dans les années 290–260, les Sabins, Vestins, Prétutiens recevraient la ciuitas sine suffragio.34 À l’issue de la 3e guerre samnite, puis de la 2e guerre punique, Rome procède encore à une série de confiscations et de déductions de colonies, qui ont pour effet de réduire toujours plus le territoire des ligues et États indépendants. Ainsi, avec la fondation des colonies de Bénévent et Isernia, le Samnium est littéralement coupé en deux, avec d’un côté les Pentriens et de l’autre les Hirpins, tandis que les communautés les plus proches de la Campanie, les « Caudins », sont intégrées à l’État romain.35 De même, après la 2e guerre punique, les territoires des Bruttiens et des Lucaniens ont été grandement amputés par des confiscations.36 Ce système d’alliance est progressivement étendu, à l’occasion des guerres du IIe s., aux populations septentrionales, comme les Ligures, les peuples celtiques de Cisalpine,37 à l’exception des Rhètes italiens qui demeurent indépendants jusqu’aux campagnes de 16–13 av. J.-C. C’est cet état de déliquescence des ligues alliées que présente Strabon,38 quand il écrit en effet qu’à son époque, les Bruttiens, les Lucaniens et même les Samnites ont été à ce point malmenés par les Romains qu’il ne subsiste plus de σύστημα κοινόν pour aucun de ces ἔθνη, et que leurs éléments identitaires (langue, armement, vêtement) ont disparu également. Strabon présente une image précise d’une désarticulation des systèmes politiques confédéraux italiens : l’ancienne solidarité de ces ensembles, le fait d’être des ἔθνη, marqué par l’existence d’un ethnonyme, subsiste, mais toute organisation de type politique et militaire a disparu, Rome imposant des relations bilatérales avec les différentes communautés. Le jugement de Strabon semble toutefois un peu trop drastique, dans la mesure où ces ligues ont subsisté, même sur un mode mineur, au moins jusqu’à la guerre sociale. Essayons de préciser quel fut leur sort. Formellement, les cités ou les ligues signataires de traités conservaient leur indépendance, mais, comme l’a bien montré A. H. Mac Donald, le Sénat s’est donné les moyens d’intervenir notamment à travers le concept de « conspiration » au sein des communautés alliées.39 C’est ce qu’on voit en particulier en 186 avec la destruction des 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Livy 8.14. Humbert 1978, 228 f. Salmon 1985, 302 f. Toynbee 1962, 2, 10 f. Dyson 1985. Strab. 6.1.2. McDonald 1944.

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sanctuaires bacchiques et la réglementation du culte, aussi bien à Rome et dans l’ager Romanus que chez les alliés.40 Dans la même logique, Rome intervient, à la demande des intéressés eux-mêmes, dans un certain nombre d’arbitrages sur les confins des cités indépendantes. La Table de Polcevera,41 table de bronze découverte en 1506 à Serra Riccò, près de Gênes, évoque ainsi l’intervention en 117 des frères Q. et M. Minucius Rufus pour régler le conflit frontalier entre les Langenses Viturii et les Genuates, deux communautés ligures alliées, représentées par leurs légats, Mocus Meticianus fils de Metico et Plaucus Pelianius fils de Pelio.42 D’autres arbitrages et opérations de bornage sont connues en Vénétie à la même période :43 en 142 ou 117 entre Este et Padoue, en 136 entre Este et Vicence, un peu plus tard entre Trente et Feltre … Ce statut particulier des alliés italiens, par rapport aux alliés ultra-marins, n’est pas uniquement vexatoire. Les Italiens bénéficient de privilèges, notamment dans certains cas (comme les trois cités herniques demeurées fidèles en 306)44 de l’extension du commercium, du conubium et du ius migrandi, ainsi que le droit de participer à la fondation de colonies ou aux assignations de terres publiques. Le cadre tel que nous l’avons dessiné pose donc encore un certain nombre de problèmes. Tout n’est pas clair par exemple autour de la question de la ciuitas sine suffragio et le rythme du passage sous la domination romaine n’est pas toujours évident, ce d’autant plus que les sources deviennent, du fait de la perte de la 2e décade de Tite-Live, assez problématiques. Les traités peuvent être de différentes natures, comme l’a rappelé encore récemment Walter D. Baronowski :45 on distingue en général le foedus aequum, qui place les deux contractants sur une position d’égalité et des traités qui contiendraient une clause de reconnaissance de la maiestas romaine (et qu’on ne peut pas appeler foedus iniquum, appellation absurde, qui n’existe pas dans l’Antiquité, à part un passage de Tite-Live dans lequel il évoque un traité « injuste »,46 ce qui n’est assurément pas un terme technique). La plus ancienne mention de la majesté de Rome dans un traité conservé remonte au traité de 189 entre Rome et la Confédération étolienne47 (ou peut-être au traité avec Cadix en 206) ; cette clause n’apparaît donc probablement pas dans les traités avec les États italiens, qui sont presque tous antérieurs. Plus que la formule, ce sont en fait les circonstances des traités qui renseignent sur le contenu : certains, comme le foedus de 317 entre Rome et Teanum Apulum sont conclus à l’issue d’une défaite militaire48 ou d’une claire soumission à Rome (dicio), mais d’une 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

Pailler 1988 ; cf. également Stek 2009, 19 f. CIL V 2,7746–7749. Crawford 2003. CIL V 2490–2492 ; cf. Denti 1991 ; Calderazzo 1996. Livy 9.43. Baronowski 1988 ; Baronowski 1990b ; cf. également Ilari 1974, 25 f. Livy 35.46.10. Baronowski 1990b. Livy 9.20.8.

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manière générale, les foedera passés avec les populations italiennes étaient avant tout des traités d’alliance, dans lesquels les contractants s’engageaient à avoir même amis et ennemis, ce qui revient à renoncer au ius bellis ac pacis, et à fournir une aide militaire, ce qui va donner naissance au mécanisme de la formula. Les alliés, à l’intérieur de ce système, demeurent en théorie libres de lever leurs propres troupes, mais comme tous les Italiens sont liés à Rome par un traité, il leur est impossible de les employer autrement qu’en les mettant au service de Rome. 2. Les ligues ethniques dans le système confédéral Comment fonctionnent ces ligues réduites ? Leurs prérogatives sont-elles limitées à la fourniture de troupes dans le cadre de la formula togatorum ? Une fois les foedera conclus, Rome interfère a priori marginalement sur le fonctionnement des ligues, qui se sont donc maintenues, sauf cas exceptionnel comme la ligue latine, jusqu’à la guerre sociale. Les Herniques eux-mêmes, dégagés de l’ancienne alliance romano-latino-hernique, fonctionnent de nouveau comme une ligue de cités. On peut donc conclure que dans la 2e moitié du IIIe et au IIe s. se maintiennent des ligues des Étrusques, des Ombriens, des diverses populations des Abruzzes, des Samnites, des Lucaniens, des Bruttiens … Le mécanisme de la formula togatorum a été bien étudié, par une longue série de chercheurs49 et en particulier par Virgilio Ilari. La signature de foedera transforme les communautés italiennes, qu’il s’agisse de cités individuelles ou de confédérations, en socii, ce que traduit l’expression socii nominisue Latini, que l’on rencontre notamment dans le sénatus-consulte de Bacchanalibus de 186 ou dans la loi agraire de 111.50 Ces alliés conservent leur organisation politique, et censoriale, et sont chargés de fournir des troupes à la demande de Rome ex foedere. La formula est la liste des communautés devant fournir des troupes ;51 la formula togatorum distingue les alliés italiens, qui bénéficiaient du droit de porter la toge et des privilèges que cela comportait à l’étranger, des autres contributeurs (formula sociorum). V. Ilari a bien démonté le fonctionnement de la formula togatorum : cette liste contenait le montant des contingents que les alliés devaient fournir, sur la base du nombre de iuniores recensés, comme on le voit à l’occasion de la levée en masse en 225, dont les chiffres, fournis par Fabius Pictor,52 ont été plusieurs commentés et rectifiés53 ou en 209, quand 12 des 30 colonies latines refusent

49 50 51 52 53

Beloch 1880, 158 f. ; Toynbee 1965, 2, 36 f. ; Brunt 1971. Ilari 1974, 1 f. Ilari 1974, 57 f. ap. Polyb. 2.23–24. Brunt 1971, 44 f. ; Ilari 1974, 64 f. ; Baronowski, 1984.

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d’envoyer des troupes à Rome54 et qu’elles sont punies en 204, avec l’obligation pour leurs magistrats de fournir à Rome le nombre des iuniores.55 Sans revenir sur les calculs complexes et sur le poids démographique qu’a pu représenter la formula togatorum, ou sur l’effort de guerre consenti par les communautés italiennes, sur lequel V. Ilari et P. Brunt ont écrit des choses qui sont encore en grande partie valides,56 je voudrais plutôt poser la question du déroulement concret du dilectus. On sait que les contingents alliés sont déterminés chaque année par un senatusconsultum de exercitibus, qui décide de la répartition des armées par théâtre d’opération et les magistrats qui les commanderaient, le nombre de légions et le chiffre de fantassins et cavaliers que devaient fournir les alliés. Chaque magistrat promulgue un décret dans lequel il désigne les communautés alliées qui doivent fournir un contingent, comme l’indique notamment Polybe.57 Polybe ne mentionne pas de systèmes confédéraux, mais se borne à parler de πόλεις italiennes, auxquelles sont demandés des contingents. Les unités alliées servent au sein d’alae sociorum, commandées par des praefecti socium, qui regroupent les contingents nationaux, sous la forme de cohortes de 420 ou 600 hommes, et d’escadrons de cavalerie de 30 cavaliers, respectivement commandées par des praefecti cohortium et praefecti turmae indigènes. Les cités les plus importantes pouvaient fournir plusieurs cohortes, alors que les cités plus petites fournissaient des contingents plus réduits, qui étaient regroupés dans des unités d’extraordinarii, commandées par des prafecti socium romains.58 Les sources fournissent un certain nombre d’exemples d’emploi de ces unités alliées. Polybe, qui reproduit les chiffres fournis par Fabius Pictor, dresse un tableau clair de ce système à l’occasion de la bataille de Télamon en 225 en fournissant le cadre complet des alliés de Rome.59 On a beaucoup débattu pour savoir si ces chiffres indiquaient des maxima fixés par le traité, le nombre de mobilisables, de mobilisés60 etc. Je ne reviens pas dans le détail mais me borne à signaler que Polybe répartit les contingents en grandes catégories ethniques : Sabins et Étrusques, Ombriens et Sarsinates, Vénètes et Cénomans, Latins, Samnites, Iapyges et Messapiens, Lucaniens, Marses, Marrucins, Frentans et Vestins. Ce sont plus ou moins les alliés que l’on rencontrait déjà dans les rangs romains à la bataille d’Asculum, en 279, qui comptaient si l’on en croit Denys d’Halicarnasse :61 Latins, Campaniens, Sabins, Ombriens, Volsques, Marrucins, Péligniens, Frentans, Dauniens. De l’autre côté, les Bruttiens, les Lucaniens, les Italiotes et les Samnites sont rangés dans l’armée de Pyrrhus. 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

Livy 27.9–10. Livy 29.15.2. Brunt 1971 ; Ilari 1974. Polyb. 6.21.4. Ilari 1974, 127. Polyb. 2.24. Brunt 1971, 44–46. Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 20.C.

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Avant les batailles d’Héraclée et d’Asculum, une autre trace de la formula togatorum peut être trouvée dans le témoignage, certes dans un discours artificiel, mais globalement cohérent de Tite-Live :62 dans l’excursus qu’il fait sur Alexandre le Grand, l’historien padouan précise que si les Romains avaient dû affronter, dans le dernier quart du IVe s., le roi de Macédoine, ils auraient pu compter sur leurs 10 légions et sur de nombreux contingents alliés : Latins, Sabins, Volsques, Èques, Campaniens, Ombriens, Étrusques, Picéniens, Marses, Péligniens, Vestins, Apuliens, Grecs Italiotes, Samnites Si toutes ces présentations, un peu globalisantes, manquent de précision, on peut tenter d’être plus précis. S’agit-il simplement d’une facilité de langage ? Les sources désignent-elles de façon générale une population en utilisant l’ethnonyme ? À Asculum par exemple, les « Dauniens » ne désignent en fait que le contingent d’Arpi63 et les « Volsques » ne correspondent qu’à des contingents de certaines cités, la « ligue volsque » n’existant plus depuis le milieu du IVe s. On trouve en fait dans les sources différents cas de figures : des unités (cohortes ou escadrons) fournies par des colonies latines,64 par des cités alliées65 et 7 exemples de contingents « nationaux ».66 Le plus souvent, on combinait les deux (contingents de ligues et de cités), comme dans la contribution à la flotte de Scipion en 205.67 Les peuples qui sont mentionnés sont tous connus pour avoir conclu un foedus avec Rome, même si dans le cas des Étrusques ou des Latins, il ne s’agit que de foedera individuels, avec les différentes cités, et non d’un traité collectif.68 Les Frentans, les Marrucins, les Marses et les Péligniens sont socii de Rome depuis 304,69 les Lucaniens depuis 298,70 ce qui ne les a pas empêchés de se soulever contre Rome à l’occasion de la 3e guerre samnite et d’être défaits plusieurs fois en 278, 276, 275, 273 et 272, et de faire encore défection en 216.

62 63 64 65 66

67 68 69 70

Livy 9.19. Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 20.C. Suessa en 294 (Livy 10.33), Frégelles en 208 (Livy 27.26–27), Placentia en 178 (Livy 41.5) et en 168 (Livy 44.40), Cremona et Aesernia en 168 (Livy 44.40) ; cf. Ilari 1974,136. Arpi en 279 (Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 20.C), Préneste (Livy 23.19 ; Val. Max. 7.6.2 ; Sil. Pun 12.426), Naples en 216 (Livy 23.1), Camerinum en 205 (Livy 28.45) et en 107 (Cic. Balb. 22 ; Val. Max. 5.2.8). Latins en 294 (Livy 10.34), 279 (Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 20.C) et 196 (Livy 33.36.10), Lucaniens en 294 (Livy 10.33), 217 (Livy 22.42–43) et 214 (Livy 24.20), Frentans en 280 et 279 (Dion. Hal. Ant Rom 20.C), Sabins, Ombriens, Volsques, Marrucins, Péligniens, Campaniens et Sidicins en 279 (d’après Denys d’Halicarnasse, 20.C, dont le récit n’est pas utilisé par V. Ilari, qui se borne à utiliser Tite-Live et Polybe), Picéniens et Gaulois en 216 (Livy 23.14.3 ; mais il s’agit peut-être de citoyens assignataires de distributions viritanes), Étrusques en 208 (Livy 27.26–27), Péligniens en 212 (Livy 25.14.4 ; Val. Max., 3.2.20 ; Macr. Sat. 1.11.24) et 168 (Livy 44.40 ; Plut. PEm. 20.162), Marses en 196 (Livy 33.36.10), Marrucins en 168 (Livy 44,40 ; Plut. PEm. 20.162), Vestins en 168 (Livy 44.40), Samnites en 168 (Livy 44.40). Livy 28.45. Harris 1971, 85 f. Diod. Sic. 20.101.5 ; Livy 9.44. Livy 10.11–12.

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La fourniture d’auxiliaires ne se limite pas aux seuls Italiens cis-apennins. Les populations cisalpines, soumises à Rome par des foedera, sont censées fournir des troupes auxiliaires, même si leur emploi est assez peu documenté. Lors de la guerre d’Histrie, en 178–176, des auxiliaires gaulois sont levés (même si on leur fait peu confiance et si le consul M. Iunius Brutus décide de les congédier dès son arrivée à Aquilée).71 Une troupe de 2.000 fantassins et 700 cavaliers ligures sert à la bataille de Pydna dans les rangs romains.72 Dans toutes les nécropoles celtiques de la région, comme l’a bien montré notamment Lionel Pernet, en particulier dans les nécropoles d’Oleggio-Loreto chez les Vertamocores, d’Isola Rizza et Santa Maria di Zevio chez les Cénomans, de Pontevecchio di Magenta et Somma Lombardo chez les Insubres, d’Ornavasso et Giubiasco chez les Lépontiens, allant toutes du LT C2 au LT D1 (175/125–125/70), on rencontre des tombes avec panoplies d’armes correspondant aux auxiliaires des armées romaines.73 Les inscriptions permettent de suivre d’autres contingents italiens au service de Rome, comme celle de Caso Cantovios, dédicace, sur une plaque de bronze portant des trous de suspension, en latin archaïque.74 Elle date du début du IIIe s. et fait donc probablement référence à des actions ayant eu lieu dans le cadre de la 3e guerre samnite. L’objet, peut-être un ceinturon, a été dédié à Angitia (Actia) par les compagnons de Caso Cantovios, au nom des légions marses. Selon A. La Regina, il aurait conduit une expédition jusqu’à l’ager Gallicus et aurait pillé l’urbs Casontonia (qui rappelle le toponyme Casentino près d’Arezzo).75 On a également découvert dans le Picénum et dans les Abruzzes des balles de fronde portant des inscriptions en vénète, documentant la participation de contingents vénètes à la guerre sociale, dans le camp romain : on trouve à Asculum des balles avec les légendes latine76 ou vénète77 et au Monte Manicola, d’autres balles de fronde, dont un objet de plomb portant deux textes en alphabet atestin signalant, selon l’interprétation d’A. La Regina, la consultation par un Vénète d’un sanctuaire marse où il aurait reçu l’oracle de destiner les blessures produites par ses armes à un certain Flodus Decius.78 D’autres balles de frondes d’Asculum, à légende GAL ou LGAL signalent la présence d’auxiliaires recrutés par Rome en Gaule Cisalpine. La présence de la plupart des peuples fédérés d’Italie est donc bien documentée dans les cadres de la formula togatorum. Le seul problème est posé par les Sabins et par les Vestins, qui sont mentionnés comme socii, alors qu’ils sont censés avoir ob71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

Livy 41.5. Pasquero 2012, 37 f. Pernet 2008 ; Pernet 2010. CIL I2 5. La Regina 1989, 399–401. CIL IX 6086,30 : Op(i)tergin(orum) CIL IX 6086,45 : o ter χ.in = Otergin La Regina 1989, 429–430.

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tenu la citoyenneté romaine.79 On pense habituellement que les Vestins, qui sont organisés en praefecturae à l’époque impériale, ont reçu la ciuitas sine suffragio, à la suite des campagnes conduites par M’. Curius Dentatus en 290, qui s’empare d’Amiterne et poursuit son offensive jusqu’à la côte adriatique, puis la ciuitas optimo iure en 241.80 Ne resteraient comme Vestins indépendants de Rome que les *Transmontani, c’est-àdire les communautés de Pinna et Angulum.81 Or, cette reconstitution proposée par T. Mommsen ne tient pas, dans la mesure où quand la guerre sociale éclate, Appien spécifie que les Vestins font partie des insurgés,82 mais Diodore rappelle que les Pinnenses demeurent fidèles à leur συμμαχία.83 Les insurgés sont donc, si l’on excepte les Angulani, forcément les Cismontani. De nombreux indices montrent d’ailleurs que les Vestins Cismontani ont participé à la guerre sociale : des indices archéologiques (des traces de combats impliquant des unités vénètes, comme le révèlent les légendes des balles de fronde, découvertes sur le Monte Manicola, à L’Aquila ; des monnaies de L. César découvertes avec des balles de fronde près de la porte de Monte di Cerro) ; des indices épigraphiques (comme l’inscription de Te Pomp Pom f , Tertius Pomponius, fils de Pompo, de la fin IIe-début Ier s. sur une stèle de la tombe 469 de Fossa, fidèle à l’onomastique traditionnelle, sans aucun indice de détention de la citoyenneté romaine ;84 le fait que l’un des chefs de la guerre sociale Gaius Pontidius, porte un gentilice qui n’est attesté que dans la zone de Navelli, chez les Vestins Cismontani)… Enfin, tous les Vestins, Transmontans comme Cismontans, appartiennent à la tribu Quirina, dans laquelle ils ont été inscrits en bloc, à l’issue de la guerre sociale. Force est donc de constater que les Vestins sont demeuré des socii, comme les Marses, les Péligniens etc. jusqu’à l’époque de la guerre sociale.85 Le maintien des « ligues » et « confédération » est-il nécessaire au fonctionnement de la formula togatorum ? Cela reviendrait à dire que dans certains cas, plutôt que de verser les contingents isolés dans des unités extra-ordinaires, il était plus simple de confier le recrutement aux institutions confédérales, à charge pour elles de constituer, sur la base des contributions des différents membres, des contingents nationaux. Ainsi, dans le cas des Péligniens ou des Vestins, les communautés de Corfinium, Sulmo, Superaequum, Aueia, Peltuinum, Aufinum etc. étaient trop réduites pour mettre sur pied une cohorte propre ; la levée se faisait donc dans un cadre confédéral, chaque communauté contribuant, selon le nombre de ses iuniores à la cohorte pélignienne ou vestine. L’existence de magistratures de type censorial est d’ailleurs attestée notamment dans 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

On estime en général qu’ils obtiennent la citoyenneté romaine sans suffrage à l’issue de la campagne de M’. Curius Dentatus en 290 (Humbert 1978, 228). Sisani 2010, 189. Rhet Her 2.45 ; Diod. Sic. 37.19.3 ; cf. Dupraz 2010, 25 f. App. BCiv 1.5.39. Diod. Sic. 37.19–20. Letta 2003. Gabba 1972 ; Bourdin 2014.

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le sanctuaire de Pietrabbondante86 chez les Samnites, mais aussi à Vasto chez les Frentans,87 chez les Lucaniens dans le sanctuaire de Rossano di Vaglio88 et sur la Table de Bantia89 et peut-être chez les Marses.90 On peut donc supposer que ces confédérations ont conservé les principaux éléments de leur organisation (assemblées de représentants, généraux en chef, désormais placés à la tête des contingents d’alliés, panégyries). Plusieurs indices le confirment, notamment le fait que les ligues poursuivent leur activité diplomatique, jusqu’à la guerre sociale. En 177, Rome reçoit ainsi des ambassadeurs des Samnites et des Péligniens, qui se plaignent de ce que 4.000 familles aient émigré dans la colonie de Frégelles, ce qui augmente le poids des prélèvements de troupes pour ceux qui sont restés.91 Cet épisode révèle que les ligues continuent d’une part à gérer l’activité diplomatique, et d’autre part qu’elles sont responsables des activités censoriales. Pour les Ombriens, Simone Sisani a par exemple récemment soutenu que la « ligue », pour laquelle nous n’avons pas de traces réelle de l’existence d’une confédération forte comme l’a rappelé Guy Bradley,92 se maintenait aux IIe–Ier s.93 Il en veut pour preuve l’inscription dite du Rescrit de Spello,94 découverte dans le sanctuaire de Villa Fidelia, fréquenté depuis les Ve–IVe s., et monumentalisé aux IIe–Ier s. (puis à l’époque augustéenne). Cette inscription rappelle que l’empereur Constantin a autorisé les Ombriens à célébrer seuls et non plus en commun avec les Étrusques à Volsinies les spectacles et jeux de gladiateurs célébrés par le sacerdos. On rétablirait de la sorte la pratique ancienne des jeux célébrés dans le sanctuaire « fédéral » des Ombriens.95 Le sanctuaire de Spello serait en outre relié par une « voie triomphale »96 à celui de Bevagna, que Sisani identifie comme la capitale politique de la ligue. Cette reconstitution semble en grande partie hypothétique et conjecturale, mais le dossier des sanctuaires « fédéraux » a été fréquemment convoqué pour illustrer une survie aux IIe–Ier s. des organisations « confédérales », avec en particulier deux exemples : Rossano di Vaglio chez les Lucaniens97 et Pietrabbondante chez les Samnites. La tentation a été grande de donner à certains sanctuaires extra-urbains un caractère « fédéral » ou « confédéral » (et ce d’autant plus aisément que, comme dans le cas de Rossano di Vaglio, on attend toujours la publication complète des contextes archéolo86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

Avec un keenzstur dans l’inscription ST Sa 4. ST Fr 1 : kenzsur ST Lu 5 : kensor ST Lu 1 : censtur ST VM 3 de Civita d’Antino : cetur Livy 41.8.7. Bradley 2000, 123 f. Sisani 2009, 136 f. CIL XI 5265. Cf. aussi Liou 1969. CIL XI 5041. Adamesteanu/Dilthey 2001.

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giques). Le sanctuaire de Pietrabbondante a été en partie exploré au XIXe s. (le temple A, du IIe s., et le théâtre) et surtout à partir de 1959 par A. La Regina, à qui l’on doit notamment le dégagement du temple B derrière le théâtre (daté de la fin IIe-début Ier s.) et plus récemment d’une domus publica (transformée en habitation privée et habitée jusqu’au IVe s. ap. J.-C.),98 prolongée par un portique, avec des colonnes votives, du sacellum G et du temple L. A. La Regina identifie clairement Pietrabbondante avec le sanctuaire principal d’un État samnite, désormais réduit à sa plus simple extension (les Pentriens), dans lequel interviendraient les magistrats (meddices tutici) et le sénat (senateis tanginud = senatus sententia) de cet État (touto) Safinim.99 Le temple L, qui est pour l’instant le plus ancien édifice connu à Pietrabbondante (où le matériel hors contexte remonte au Ve s.) aurait été pillé et détruit à l’occasion de la 2e guerre punique ; dans sa cella, on a découvert une « arche » en pierre, contenant des monnaies romaines de la fin du IIIe s., qu’A. La Regina interprète comme les restes des sommes envoyées par Rome pour soutenir l’État samnite pentrien dans sa lutte contre Hannibal100 (ce qui contredit le témoignage de Polybe, qui indique clairement que l’entretien des troupes alliées, la solde etc. étaient à la charge des alliés eux-mêmes).101 Le sanctuaire de Pietrabbondante est donc un lieu de culte public, restructuré peu avant la guerre sociale et abandonné juste après, sans que l’on comprenne encore clairement à quelle échelle (l’ensemble du Samnium, les Pentriens, une communauté politique locale ?) il fonctionnait.102 L’exemple le plus clair de la survie des ligues est finalement la continuité avec la guerre sociale. Malgré le caractère lacunaire ou abrégé des sources, il semble néanmoins possible de comprendre que, comme l’a bien mis en lumière E. T. Salmon, suivi plus récemment par Christopher Dart, chaque peuple belligérant est commandé par son propre général (praetor, dux).103 Si des villes ont pu participer à titre individuel (Asculum, Pompeii, Venusia, Nola), les anciennes confédérations (Marses, Péligniens, Vestins, Marrucins, Picéniens, Frentans, Hirpins, Iapyges, Lucaniens et Samnites) sont les protagonistes du conflit. Rome n’a donc pas tenté de réduire systématiquement au silence les ligues des populations d’Italie : dans certains cas (Latins, Volsques, peut-être Sabins), les systèmes « confédéraux » ont été clairement démantelés. Dans d’autres cas, ils se sont probablement maintenus, mais nous n’en avons aucune attestation claire (Étrusques, Ombriens). Dans le cadre de la formula togatorum en revanche, les autres ligues d’Italie ont poursuivi leur existence, existence d’autant plus nécessaire qu’en raison des annexions

98 99 100 101 102 103

La Regina 2006 ; Pietrabbondante 2010. La Regina 2014. La Regina 2014. Polyb. 6.21.5. Stek 2009, 40–52. Salmon 1958 ; Dart 2009.

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par Rome ou de la fondation de colonies latines, certaines ligues avaient vu leurs capacités démographiques se réduire nettement. Les ligues organisaient donc la répartition des contingents, en leur sein, pour le dilectus. Elles conservaient nécessairement les instruments pour le faire (magistratures à pouvoir censorial, représentation diplomatique, organe de délibération, peut-être sanctuaires confédéraux) et confiaient encore, comme au temps de leur indépendance, le commandement de ces troupes, désormais auxiliaires des légions, à des généraux choisis parmi le peuple lui-même. Rome, s’appuyait sur les systèmes politiques, États ou systèmes d’États, existants, n’interdisant que les alliances entre eux. C’est d’ailleurs la mise en place d’une alliance militaire comme à Sentinum deux siècles plus tôt, plutôt que celle d’une copie de l’État romain comme l’imagine Photius résumant Diodore,104 entre ces systèmes d’États et États survivants, qui déclenche la guerre des alliés.105 Bibliographie Adamesteanu/Dithey 2001 = D. Adamesteanu / H. Dilthey, Rossano di Vaglio, in : Bibliografia Topografica della Colonizzazione Greca in Italia 17, Pise-Rome, 123–27 Aigner Foresti 2001 = L. Aigner Foresti, Momenti di aggregazione e momenti di disgregazione nei sistemi politici degli Etruschi, in : A. Barzanò / C. Bearzot / F. Landucci / L. Prandi / G. Zecchini (Eds.), Alle radici della casa comune europea. III : Identità e valori. Fattori di aggregazione e fattori di crisi nell’esperienza politica antica, Bergamo, 16–18 dicembre 1998, Rome, 97–127 Baronowski 1984 = D. W. Baronowski, The Formula Togatorum, in : Historia 33,2, 248–52 Baronowski 1988 = D. W. Baronowski, Roman Treaties with Communities of Citizens, in : Classical Quarterly 38, 172–78 Baronowski 1990a = D. W. Baronowski, Roman Military Forces in 225 B. C. (Polybius 2.23–4), in : Historia 42,2, 181–202 Baronowski 1990b = D. W. Baronowski, Sub umbra foederis aequi, in : Phoenix 44,4, 345–69 Beloch 1880 = K. J. Beloch, Der Italische Bund unter Roms Hegemonie. Staatsrechtliche und statistische Forschungen, Leipzig Bourdin 2006 = S. Bourdin, Les ligues ethniques en Italie : l’exemple des Èques et des Volsques (Ve–IVe siècles av. J.-C.), in : E. Caire / S. Pittia (Eds.), Guerre et diplomatie romaines (IVe–IIIe siècles av. J.-C.). Pour un réexamen des sources, Aix-en-Provence, 259–75 Bourdin 2012 = S. Bourdin, Les peuples de l’Italie préromaine. Identités, territoires et relations inter-ethniques en Italie centrale et septentrionale (VIIIe–Ier s. av. J.-C.), Bibliothèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 350, Rome Bourdin 2014 = S. Bourdin, Il territorio dei Vestini Cismontani : dagli insediamenti d’altura alle praefecturae, in : P. L. Dall’Aglio / C. Franceschelli / L. Maganzani (Eds.), Atti del IV Convegno internazionale di Studi Veleiati (Veleia-Lugagnano Val d’Arda, 20–21 Settembre 2013), Bologne, 465–82, 674 104 Diod. Sic. 37.2 ; cf. Yarrow 2006, 215 f. 105 Mouritsen 1998.

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Bourdin 2018 = S. Bourdin, Peuples et systèmes d’alliance dans l’Italie républicaine, in : A. Bouet / C. Petit-Aubert (Eds.), Bibere, ridere, gaudere, studere, hoc est vivere Hommages à Francis Tassaux, Bordeaux, 175–85 Bradley 2000 = G. Bradley, Ancient Umbria. State, Culture, and Identity in Central Italy from the Iron Age to the Augustan Era, Oxford Brunt 1971 = P. A. Brunt, Italian Manpower. 225 B. C.-A. D. 14, Oxford Calderazzo 1996 = L. Calderazzo, Arbitrati romani in Cisalpina (197–89 a. C.) : problemi e status quaestionis, in : Rivista di studi liguri 62, 25–46 Cappelletti 2012 = L. Cappelletti, Lucani e Brettii. Ricerche sulla storia politica e istituzionale di due popoli dell’Italia antica (V–III sec. a. C.), Francfort Cornell 1995 = T. J. Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome. Italy and Rome from the Bronze Age to the Punic Wars (c. 1000–264 BC), Londres-New York Crawford 2003 = M. H. Crawford, Language and Geography in the Sententia Minuciorum, in : Atheneum 2003, 204–10 Dart 2009 = C. J. Dart, The ‹ Italian Constitution › in the Social War : a Reassessment (91 to 88 BCE), in : Historia 58,2, 215–24 Denti 1991 = M. Denti, I Romani a nord del Po. Archeologia e cultura in età repubblicana e augustea, Milan Dupraz 2010 = E. Dupraz, Les Vestins à l’époque tardo-républicaine. Du nord-osque au latin, Mont-Saint-Aignan Dyson 1985 = S. L. Dyson, The Creation of the Roman Frontier, Princeton Gabba 1972 = E. Gabba, Urbanizzazione e rinnovamenti urbanistici nell’Italia centro-meridionale del I sec. a. C., in : Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, 21, 73–112 Harris 1971 = W. V. Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria, Oxford Humbert 1978 = M. Humbert, Municipium et civitas sine suffragio L’organisation de la conquête jusqu’à la guerre sociale, Collection de l’Éole française de Rome 36, Rome La Regina 1989 = A. La Regina, I Sanniti, in : Italia omnium terrarum parens La civiltà degli Enotri, Choni, Ausoni, Sanniti, Lucani, Brettii, Sicani, Siculi, Elimi, Milan, 299–432 La Regina 2006 = A. La Regina, Pietrabbondante. Ricerche archeologiche 2006, s. l. La Regina 2014 = A. La Regina, Pietrabbondante e il Sannio antico, in : Almanacco del Molise, 161–208 Letta 2003 = C. Letta, Le iscrizioni della tomba 469, in : V. D’Ercole / M. R. Copersino (Eds.), La necropoli di Fossa. Vol. IV. L’età ellenistico-romana, Pescara, 320–21 Liou 1969 = B. Liou, Praetores Etruriae XV populorum (Étude d’épigraphie), (Collection Latomus 106), Bruxelles Mac Donald 1944 = A. H. McDonald, Rome and the Italian Confederation (200–186 B. C.), in : Journal of Roman Studies 34, 11–33 Mouritsen 1998 = H. Mouritsen, Italian Unification. A Study in Ancient and Modern Historiography, Londres Pailler 1988 = J.-M. Pailler, Bacchanalia La répression de 186 av. J.-C. à Rome et en Italie, Bibliothèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 270, Rome Pareti 1930–31 = L. Pareti, La disunione politica degli Etruschi e i suoi riflessi storici ed archeologici, in : Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia di Archeologia 7,2, 147–61 Pasquero 2012 = M. Pasquero, I Celti della valle del Po negli eserciti di Roma. Ausiliari – legionari – pretoriani dal II secolo a. C. al III secolo d. C., Manocalzati

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Pernet 2008 = L. Pernet, L’armement républicain des nécropoles de Giubiasco et d’Ornavasso, in : M. Poux (Ed.), Sur les traces de César. Militaria tardo-républicains en contexte gaulois. Actes de la table ronde de Bibracte, 17 octobre 2002, Glux-en-Glenne, 275–93 Pernet 2010 = L. Pernet, Armement et auxiliaires gaulois (IIe et Ier siècles avant notre ère), Montagnac Pietrabbondante 2010 = Pietrabbondante. Scavi archeologici dell’anno 2010. Rapporto preliminare, s. l. Rix 2002 (ST) = H. Rix, Sabellische Texte. Die Texte des Oskischen, Umbrischen und Südpikenischen, Heidelberg Salmon 1958 = E. T. Salmon, Notes on the Social War, in : Transaction of the American Philological Association 89, 159–84 Salmon 1985 = E. T. Salmon, Il Sannio e i Sanniti, Torino Sánchez 2016 = P. Sánchez, Latini, id est foederati. Le statut juridique des colonies latines sous la République, in : Atheneum, 50–82 Sisani 2009 = S. Sisani, Vmbrorum gens antiquissima Italiae. Studi sulla società e le istituzioni dell’Umrbia preromana, Pérouse Sisani 2010 = S. Sisani, Dalla praefectura al municipium : lo sviluppo delle strutture amministrative romane in area medio-italica tra il I sec. a. C. e l’età imperiale, in : Rendiconti della Classe di Scienze morali, storiche e filologiche dell’Academia dei Lincei 9,21, 173–226 Stek 2009 = T. D. Stek, Cult Places and Cultural Change in Republican Italy. A Contextual Approach to Religious Aspects of Rural Society after the Roman Conquest, Amsterdam Stopponi 2012 = S. Stopponi, Il fanum Voltumnae : dalle divinità tluschva a San Pietro, in : Il fanum Voltumnae e i santuari comunitari dell’Italia antica, Ann. Faina 19, 7–75 Toynbee 1965 = A. Toynbee, Hannibal’s Legacy. The Hannibalic War’s Effects on Roman Life, Londres, 2 vol. Yarrow 2006 = L. M. Yarrow, Historiography at the End of the Republic. Provincial Perspectives on Roman Rule, Oxford

Between Rome and Italy Hegemony, Anarchy and Land in the Late Second Century BC Saskia T. Roselaar (Independent) 1. Introduction This paper will briefly analyse the problems surrounding land and its distribution in Italy in the late second century BC, in light of the issues discussed in this volume as a whole. Land was closely connected to most of the other subjects discussed: it played a role in the conflicts between Romans and Italians, while the possession of land also functioned as a way for individuals and groups to display their social status. And of course the economic developments discussed in some of the papers in this volume were closely connected to changes in the way land was cultivated, in developments such as urbanization, and in the legal developments regarding the possession of land. A tension is often visible between ‘universalist’ and ‘parochialist’ approaches. On the one hand, some scholarly reconstructions, especially in the 1960s and 1970s, assumed a widespread socio-economic crisis in the second century BC. On the other hand, recent scholarship has assumed a more ‘parochialist’ view, pointing to the wide variation in developments in second-century Italy which invalidates a ‘universalist’ approach. This paper will discuss the merits of both approaches, as well as point to new avenues for investigation into second-century Italy. 2. Traditional views and revisions When it comes to land, a specific universalist approach has often been maintained. The ‘traditional picture’ of the second century is familiar. In the introduction to his Civil Wars, Appian gives a general picture of the economic and social problems of Italy in the second century and the activities of the Gracchan land commission: ‘As they subdued successive parts of Italy by war, the Romans confiscated a portion of the land

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and founded towns, or chose settlers from their own people to go to existing towns – this being the alternative they devised to garrisons. In the case of captured land which became theirs on each occasion, they distributed the cultivated area at once to settlers, or sold or leased it; but since they did not have time to allocate the very large quantity that was then lying uncultivated as a result of hostilities, they announced that this could for the moment be worked by anyone who wished at a rent of one tenth of the produce for arable land and one fifth for orchards. Rents were also set for those who pastured larger and smaller beasts. (…) The rich gained possession of most of the undistributed land and after a while were confident that no one would take it back from them. They used persuasion or force to buy or seize property which adjoined their own, or any smallholdings belonging to poor men, and came to operate great ranches instead of single farms. They employed slave hands and shepherds on these estates to avoid having free men dragged off the land to serve in the army, and they derived great profit from this form of ownership too, as the slaves had many children and no liability to military service and their number increased freely. For these reasons the powerful were becoming extremely rich, and the number of slaves in the country was reaching large proportions, while the Italian people were suffering from depopulation and a shortage of men, worn down as they were by poverty and taxes and military service. And if they had any respite from these tribulations, they had no employment, because the land was owned by the rich who used slave farm workers instead of free men.’1 Although Appian does not specify a period in which these developments took place, it is generally assumed that he is referring to the conquest of land in Italy by the Romans in the fourth to second century BC. Furthermore, as Appian hints, the conquests in the Eastern Mediterranean brought an enormous amount of wealth pouring into Italy, in the form of money and slaves. Most of this was accumulated by the elite; they occupied the land, especially ager publicus, and used their new wealth to establish large slave-staffed latifundia and sheep ranches. Small farmers, suffering from increasing burdens of military service, were driven from their lands by the ‘greed of the rich’. Some of the landless poor flocked into the cities, while others remained in the countryside and formed a rural proletariat. The proletarianization of the poor and the consequent increase in their dependence on the market pushed up the demand for foodstuffs, which were produced by the rich. This made the rich even richer, and prompted a further increase in the demand for land, since more land was needed to set up cash crop estates. Since the impoverished and landless poor had no means to cover their subsistence needs, they became reluctant to raise children; this seems to have caused an absolute decline in their numbers. This is the famous reconstruction of the ‘crisis of the second century BC’.2 1 2

App. BCiv. 1.7–8. As described most forcefully by Toynbee 1965, ii, 9–14, 177–9; Hopkins 1978, 11–13, 30–1. The traditional picture is based mainly on App. BCiv. 1.7–8 and Plut. Ti Gracch 8. Other ancient writers also

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Several insights emerging from recent scholarship have made this image impossible to maintain. One of the most important new ideas is that the second century was not a period of population decline, but of population growth.3 Population decline was not caused by the proletarianization of the small farmer, as the ancient sources would have it, but proletarianization was itself caused by the growth of the free population of Italy and the subsequent competition for land. Small and landless farmers who had remained in the countryside could make a living by working as wage labourers or tenants on large estates. However, the combination of the end of colonization in 170 BC and the increased demand for land for commercial agriculture would have caused an oversupply of labour in the countryside. This made it difficult for the rural poor to support themselves. At the same time the population continued to grow, while no colonization schemes were devised which could have relieved central Italy of its excess population.4 If competition for land increased, there may not have been enough land for all landless farmers. Some came to the cities, where there were many opportunities for wage labour in the early second century, especially in construction, but other branches of the economy were prospering as well. The army was also a welcome opportunity for people without access to land, since profitable wars were fought in the early second century BC. However, as the century progressed, living by wage labour became increasingly difficult. First, the wars fought later in the century were not as attractive as the earlier ones. This caused increasing reluctance to join the army, and thereby caused a large number of men to remain in Italy, who would normally have left. Furthermore, there are indications that the economic situation in the city of Rome from about 140 became more precarious: problems with the food supply may have led to higher prices, while there seems to have been a slack in the number of new public buildings and therefore in opportunities for wage labour. In short, in the second half of the second century a large number of people were looking for work at exactly the time when this was difficult to find. A situation in which both the rural and the urban poor were having problems of subsistence would have presented an ideal opportunity for a social reformer such as Tiberius Gracchus to gain support. Another important revision in scholarship concerns the importance of elite competition for land: it is now recognized that the market for which the elite – and other producers – could have produced their goods was limited.5 Urbanization in the Republican period was not as substantial as it would later become, and the market for

3 4 5

mention the ‘greed of the rich’ and their accumulation of land: Plaut. Trin 287; Sall. Iug 41.5–8; Juv. Sat 9.140–51; Columella Rust. 1.3.12. The rate of this growth is still the subject of intense debate; some suggest slow growth, e. g. De Ligt 2012. Others suggest a very quick rate of population growth, especially Lo Cascio 2004. See also Roselaar 2010. Rosenstein 2008.

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agricultural products was therefore smaller. This has serious implications for the importance of aristocratic competition for land: if there was no market for the products of a great number of large estates, there seems to have been no reason to accumulate large tracts of land, in the way described by the sources. However, commercial agriculture was not spread evenly throughout Italy. Some regions specialized in products for the largest market, the city of Rome. The large-scale production of wine, olive oil, and grain for the market at Rome took place mainly in Etruria, Latium, Sabinum, and Campania. An increase in the scale of commercial production had already taken place in some parts of Latium in the fourth and third centuries. For example, in the middle Tiber Valley the number of archaeologically visible sites declined after 250, but the sites that remained became larger, indicating an increase of commercial agriculture.6 After the Second Punic War, small to middle-sized, slave-staffed villas specializing in the production of wine, oil, and grain for the market appeared in many parts of Latium.7 An increase in wine and oil production was not confined to Latium, but occurred in many other areas surrounding Rome. Some parts of Campania, especially the coast between Terracina and Naples, the Garigliano basin, the territory of Sinuessa, and the Ager Falernus, had already been specializing in the production of wine, oil, and fruit production since the third century.8 Like in Latium, villas in Campania were relatively small during the fourth to second centuries, a few hundred iugera at most. Only in the first century their number and size began to increase significantly. The second century saw an increase in the number of larger sites in southern Etruria as well. Again, large estates were located mainly along the coast, in the territory of Cosa, and in the Albegna Valley, from where the produce could easily be transported to Rome and other markets.9 The possibilities for commercial production for the market in Rome in areas further away were limited, since profits would be curbed by increasing costs of transport. However, some sites located far away from the market at Rome produced exclusive specialities, which were transported to the central market, no matter the cost. Wool from Apulia was famous, for example, and also used in the city of Rome. A combination of population growth and increased competition for land among those producing for the market could lead to serious problems for the small farmers living in central Italy. The situation became untenable shortly before the Gracchan period, when many Roman citizens experienced a decline in their economic and social well-being. However, this phenomenon was limited to a small part of Italy, namely central Italy, where the presence of a quickly expanding market ensured that land was 6 7 8 9

Di Giuseppe 2005. Marzano 2007. Arthur 1991; Marzano 2007, 13–14. Coccia/Mattingly 1992.

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in high demand. It is very possible that the demand for land among the elite in this area grew, and that this led to increasing accumulation of the land in the hands of people engaged in commercial agriculture. In central Italy therefore the traditional, ‘universalist’ picture was to some degree valid; indeed small farmers lost their land – either voluntarily, because they were willing to sell it to rich farmers looking for land – or by force. This, in combination with continuous population growth, led to the creation of an urban and rural proletariat in central Italy. 3. Developments in Italy It is clear that the developments concerning land should be seen in a very different light from what has long been assumed. Indeed most scholars now agree that it is impossible to find one universalist model that fits the economic developments of the whole Italian peninsula in the second century BC. Instead, the regions of Italy, and indeed each individual town, experienced widely divergent developments, as they came to be connected to – or were disconnected from – the new economic networks that were created by Rome’s expansion in the Mediterranean. The expansion of the Roman state opened up new markets for Italian products, since Roman dominance ended the continuous warfare which had been normal in pre-conquest Italy. The Romans also added areas in the Mediterranean to their dominion, creating a more peaceful situation, which was beneficial to trade. There was also less competition for Italian merchants, since Carthage was defeated, meaning Carthaginian merchants were no longer present on Sicily and Sardinia and in Iberia, creating new opportunities for Italians. Rome also tried to free the Mediterranean from pirates, although this had only limited success. All these benefits meant that Italians had more trading opportunities than ever before; many Italians became very wealthy. This is shown by the unprecedented wealth that became visible in Italy in the course of the second century. Many cities experienced a boom in the construction of public buildings in the late second century, e. g. Capua, Cumae, Pompeii, and Puteoli. Magnificent sanctuaries in Hellenistic style were constructed in many places, e. g. Fregellae, Cora, Signia, Gabii, Pietravairano, Pietrabbondante, San Giovanni in Galdo, Vastogirardi and elsewhere.10 A very important point to note is that the legal status of the Italians does not seem to have mattered much; anyone, whether Roman citizen, Latin or Italian ally, could profit from the economic opportunities created by the expansion of Roman dominance in the Mediterranean and the new markets that opened up.

10

Crawford 1981, 160.

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Scholars have often assumed that this prosperity, both urban and rural, was financed by trade activities in the Mediterranean.11 Italians had either shared directly in the spoils distributed by Rome after successful wars, or they had taken up the new economic opportunities created by the Roman conquest of the Mediterranean. In some cases a direct line can be established between traders in the East and investments in public buildings in Italy. For example, Temple B at Pietrabbondante was constructed in the second half of the second century.12 Many inscriptions on the temple record donations by local families, such as the Dekitii, Herennii, Maraeii, Staii, Statii, Stenii, and Vesulii, who are also attested at Delos, the main trade hub in the East. At Schiavi d’Abruzzo the Papii and Dekitii, who were active in the East, financed the mosaic temple pavement.13 It is important to emphasize that already in the third century, but even more so in the late second and early first, many buildings erected in Italy were Hellenistic in style. In Rome such buildings often appeared later than in other areas of Italy; Rome, therefore, was generally not the model on which Italians based their public and private buildings. Statements like ‘[Rome] became … the cultural leader as well as the political mistress, and it is this that largely accounts for the speed with which Hellenistic civilization penetrated all Italy’14 can no longer be maintained. For example, stone theatres were already present in many Greek cities in Southern Italy in the fourth and third centuries, and in the second and early first century many Greek-style theatres were built in many Italian towns and rural areas, e. g. Cales, Capua, Nuceria, Pietrabbondante, Pompeii, Sarno, Teanum Sidicinum, Alba Fucens, Gabii, Lanuvium, Nemi, Praeneste, Tibur, and Tusculum.15 Some, e. g. in Pompeii, were built more than a century earlier than the first stone theatre in Rome dating to 55 BC. Of course not all Italians benefited in the same way from the new economic network. The expansion of the economic network of the Italian peninsula led to changes in the role of individual towns and villages. Some regions specialized in production for the market, such as the Apulian wool producers and the wine merchants of Campania – although this of course did not mean that these areas produced one crop exclusively. Areas which could not find a meaningful way of participating in the economic network declined. Many towns grew in the second and first centuries BC, especially harbour towns such as Puteoli, Minturnae, Brundisium, and Aquileia, among others.16 Some, however, did not; Paestum had been a regional centre between the sixth and fourth centuries BC, but slowly declined in importance during the Republican period. 11 12 13 14 15 16

Càssola 1970/71, 318; Kay 2014, 222–4. Dench 1995, 137–40. Imagines Terventum 36. Salmon 1982, 100. He argues that the temple in Pietrabbondante also owed much to Rome in style, layout and decoration (117), while in fact it is closely modelled on temples in the Greek East. See also Keaveney 1987, 25: “Italians took their cue from Rome”. Johannowsky 1976, 272. Broadhead 2002, 57–69.

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4. The role of Rome Here we come to the question of Rome’s role in these developments, which is relevant to the question whether the situation in second-century can be qualified as empire, hegemony or anarchy. In my view hegemony means something like ‘dominance, which is not officially laid down in a law or constitution’. ‘Empire’ is a more officially structured dominance, in which the dominant state has a legally defined position which lays down its dominance over the subjected groups. Working with these definitions, we might call the situation of the second century a hegemony. The Italians were not subjected to Roman law, although they had to obey Rome’s wishes with regard to the recruitment of soldiers and waging war. These obligations were most likely laid down in treaties concluded with the defeated Italian peoples. This meant that, although the Italians of course did not willingly submit to Roman power, at least their position was written down in an official document. Rome was clearly the most powerful state in the peninsula, and by the mid-second century also in the Mediterranean. This meant that it could more or less unilaterally impose its wishes on the allies. Such a system could only work in one of two ways: the first was through extreme pressure on the allies to obey, turning Rome into a dictatorial state, but this was clearly not the case. The Second Punic War had shown that Rome did not maintain such a level of control over the allies. The other option was through keeping the allies happy with rewards, such as moveable spoils or land. One way of sharing in the spoils of conquest was through colonization. In the late fourth and third centuries, colonization had been one of the ways in which the Roman state shared the spoils of conquest with its allies. As I have argued elsewhere,17 Latin allies were usually included as colonists in the late fourth to early second centuries. After the Second Punic War, even Italian allies were allowed to become settlers in colonies in some Latin colonies. But in the 170s, colonization suddenly ceased. Several factors may have contributed to this; one of them may have been the fact that the Roman population, which had declined during the Second Punic War, again reached the number it had been before the war, according to the surviving census figures. In the state’s view, it would then no longer be necessary to establish colonies in order to increase the number of assidui.18 But colonization also served an important other purpose, namely to reward the soldiers for their loyalty and make sure they had a way of making a living. Perhaps for citizen soldiers this was no longer deemed necessary because of the amounts of moveable spoils that were taken in the wars of the 170/160s. Allies normally also received a share of such spoils, but this was not always the case. When in 177 ‘the allies got only half as much as those with Roman citizenship, … they followed

17 18

Roselaar 2011. Roselaar 2010, 151–2.

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Claudius’ chariot in such silence that you could feel their resentment’.19 Therefore, the decision to cancel colonization as a normal method of the distribution of spoils would have hit the allies hard. It could be suggested that the change in the assignment of land to allies was connected to the general change in Rome’s attitude towards the allies. Instead of maintaining the system of rewards, the Roman state may have felt, some decades after the Second Punic War, that it was time to show its power more clearly towards the Italian allies. If Rome felt that its growing power allowed it to treat the allies in this way, that is, as subjects rather than allies, it would make sense if it felt that it could unilaterally withdraw from them the privileges they had enjoyed before. From their experience in the conquest of the provinces, the Romans may have concluded that it was no longer necessary to give the Italians any kind of preferable treatment. After all, they had quite easily conquered large parts of the Greek East, and had managed to impose their will mostly unilaterally. Rhetoric such as ‘restoring the freedom of Greece’20 was just that: rhetoric, and both Romans and Greeks knew it. Other considerations may also have played a role in the cancellation of colonies, such as the fear that individual founders would gain too much influence. But, as I suggest, the increasingly hegemonic role of Rome within the peninsula and the Mediterranean was one important motivation. This is also visible in the way the Romans treated the Italians. Increasingly the Romans arrogated to themselves the right to interfere in other internal affairs of the allies, e. g. in the Bacchanalian affair of 186 BC.21 However, these actions again were not authorized in any official way. The sources mention examples of Roman magistrates flogging Italians, for example.22 Here we must look again at the impact of the Hellenization of Italy and Rome. As we have seen, many areas of Italy show evidence of ‘Hellenization’, for example in building stone theatres and monumental temple complexes. Italy was often ahead of Rome in these developments, erecting sophisticated buildings and artworks which in Rome had

19 20 21

22

Livy 41.13. As proclaimed by Flamininus in 199 BC, Plut. Flam 10.4. Livy 39.18–19; CIL I2 581. There is some debate as to whom the decree on Bacchanalian rights was aimed, Roman citizens or allies. I think that it is more likely to have been aimed at allies as well. See Pailler 1988, 103–7; De Cazanove 2000. Other instances of Roman interference in Italian affairs are described in Livy 42.1 (a Roman magistrate’s demand to receive honours from the Praenestines); Livy 42.3 (the destruction of the temple of Juno Lacinia); Val. Max. 7.3.4a; Cic. Off. 1.33 (a judgment in a land dispute, in which the Roman magistrate confiscated the land for Rome). Many more examples could be cited. Gell. NA 10.3: a local magistrate was flogged, because the local baths were not clean enough for a visiting Roman magistrate. Flogging was also an important issue in the outbreak of the Social War in 91 BC. The war broke out in Asculum during a theatrical performance, when the Roman spectators lynched an actor. The Picentes wanted to kill the Latin actor Saunio, but he, hoping to avoid being lynched by the people, used the argument ‘I am not a Roman, but, like you, am likely to be subjected to the floggings of Roman magistrates’ (Diod. Sic. 37.12).

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not yet been introduced. Italian elites were rightly proud of these achievements: ‘The men who commissioned these buildings knew what they were doing and knew that they were doing things Rome had not done.’23 However, as we have seen, the Romans could easily depict the Italians as backward, boorish, and uncivilized. This depiction clearly did not match the image that Italians held about themselves, of sophisticated and civilized people engaged in a Mediterranean-wide cultural exchange. Apart from this social disgrace, more practical considerations also played a role. Some allies had been deprived of land, which was made ager publicus after the Second Punic War. This meant that in several ways it had become more difficult for the allies to access land in the early part of the second century. It is possible that they did not at first consider this a problem, apart from the possible disgrace they may have felt at the decisions of the Roman state. The population of the Italian allies had also declined because of the Second Punic War, so there was more than enough land available. Some local Italian leaders may have taken the opportunity to increase their own landholdings by buying up land belonging to those who had died. Furthermore, it seems that the Romans did not immediately use the ager publicus they had confiscated, but instead left it to be worked by the Italians who had held it before. Therefore, there was not much reason for the Italians to complain immediately after the Second Punic War. Loyal Italians retained their land, while disloyal Italians perhaps in theory lost theirs, but could continue to use it in practice. Furthermore, as we have just seen, the Italians also benefited from the expansion of Rome’s power into the Mediterranean, which brought them unprecedented wealth. This allowed them to build impressive public buildings, as well as private houses on a scale previously unknown.24 Thus, the Italians who managed to profit from one of these sources of wealth – land and trade – were able to gain a high social status in their local communities. It should be noted that these were not necessarily the same people as the local elites who had been in power before the Second Punic War, since those who had collaborated with Hannibal had been severely punished by Rome. This, in combination with new sources of wealth, allowed for social mobility in Italy on a much wider scale than previously. Thus, on the one hand, the allies received some benefits from their association with Rome; but these benefits were not officially laid down in laws or treaties, and were always subject to the whims of Rome and its magistrates. Partially this made sense, since the Roman state could not impose laws on the Italian allies – they were sovereign states and therefore not subject to Rome’s laws, nor could Rome make laws which they had to obey. But in the second century the Romans often simply overruled the Italians, forcing them to obey Rome’s wishes without regard for laws or treaties. This

23 24

Crawford 1981, 159. For private houses see Wallace-Hadrill 1997.

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situation is a typical example of the type of hegemony that Rome practiced in the early second century: Rome maintained its power in the peninsula through a delicate mix of violence and benevolence. It rewarded the allies with a part of the spoils from the wars they fought together with Rome, but on the other hand abused its power whenever it wanted. 5. The Gracchan land reform In the end Rome’s policy on land would seriously backfire, as would its treatment of the allies in general. The dissatisfaction that gradually built up against Rome in the second century BC culminated in the Social War of 91, after which all Italian allies were given Roman citizenship. The most important problem was the lack of official documentation of the position of Rome and the allies. Rome could basically do what it wanted, but did not bother to lay down its powers in any legal form. This is typical of an hegemonial state, which rules by power rather than law. These problems became very clear in the later part of the second century. Most of the debate in the late second century focused on ager publicus, which became more and more important. A very brief overview of events in the Gracchan period is helpful here.25 The basic facts of the agrarian reform launched by Tiberius Gracchus are clear enough: he proposed a law which limited the possession of ager publicus by existing users to a maximum of 500 iugera, plus an additional amount for their children. All ager publicus over the limit was to be returned to the state, which would distribute it to the poor. A threeman commission was installed to supervise its execution. The role of the Italians in all these developments is of course essential. The events have been muddled by the description in Appian, the main source. Especially unclear is the role attributed to a group called ‘Italians’, or in the original Greek, Italiotai. Appian states: ‘The Italian people were suffering from depopulation and a shortage of men, worn down as they were by poverty and taxes and military service’.26 Later Appian again emphasizes the Italian aspect of the Gracchan reform: Tiberius delivered speeches ‘about the people of Italy, saying that they were excellent fighters and related to the Romans by blood, but declining slowly into poverty and depopulation and had not even the hope of a remedy’.27 Tiberius was escorted home from the assembly by the crowd, ‘as though he were the founding father, not of one city, or of one clan, but of all the peoples of Italy’.28

25 26 27 28

See in more detail Roselaar 2010, 243–51. App. BCiv 1.7. App. BCiv 1.9. App. BCiv 1.13.

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Some have therefore argued that Tiberius wanted to give the allies land,29 but in fact, the Italians do not seem to have profited in any direct way from the Gracchan reform: the assignations of land which took place as a result of the Gracchan reforms most likely benefited only Roman citizens, while Italians did not receive land. The strongest argument for this is the fact that the Lex agraria of 111 BC only mentions land distributed to citizens: ‘[whatever land or piece of land] a IIIvir according to statute or plebiscite granted or assigned from that land or piece of land to any Roman citizen by lot’. In Appian’s account the Italiotai are presented from chapter 1.19 onwards only as victims of the Gracchan distributions: when the Gracchan land commission started its work, it was the Italians who launched the fiercest protests. After Scipio had blocked the distributions in 129, there was ‘a proposal that all the allies, who were making the most vocal opposition over the land, should be enrolled as Roman citizens, so that out of gratitude for the greater favour they would no longer quarrel about the land’. Furthermore, those supporting Tiberius Gracchus are never the Italians, but only the Roman people. A clear distinction must be made between rich and poor Italians in the way they were treated by the Gracchan commission. Large tracts of land in southern Italy had been transformed into ager publicus, and the Italian elite, who had previously owned large holdings as private land, had continued to hold this land after the Second Punic War, even if it was now Roman public land. Such people stood to lose heavily when this land was distributed to the Roman poor. Poor Italians, who are presented in the sources equally destitute as the Roman plebs, and as having lost access to land, apparently did not receive any land from the Gracchan land commission. Even if the Italians did not receive land as new Gracchan settlers, I argue that some were in fact treated quite generously by the Gracchi. An important question in this respect is whether the Italian veteres possessores – the Italians holding Roman ager publicus before 133 – were also allowed to keep a maximum of 500 iugera of ager publicus, just like Romans. At first sight this would seem unlikely, since Italians did not have any formal rights of access to ager publicus. On the other hand, the Lex agraria seems quite generous when it comes to the rights of Latin and Italian allies. In lines 20–3 it describes how, if an ally had to hand over his holdings of ager publicus so that a colony could be founded there, he would receive other tracts of ager publicus, which would then become his private property: ‘[Whichever] Roman citizen or ally or member of the Latin name … [granted] public [land] or a piece of land of the Roman people from his possession …. whatever land or [piece of land ?he shall have received?] in return … that land is to be private.’ It is likely that the ager publicus previously held

29

See Richardson 1980, 3–8. It has even been stated that Appian says that the Italians were also given land, e. g. Bleicken 1990, 111. However, Appian never actually says that the Italians received land from the Gracchi.

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by the allies and not exchanged for other land had also become private under the Lex agraria. Since the law of 111 in this respect confirmed the Gracchan law, it is likely that the law of 133 also granted security of tenure to Italian holders of ager publicus. Moreover, in lines 16–18, setting out the rights of the veteres possessores, the law does not mention Roman citizens specifically, although it does so in the previous line when referring to the land assigned by the Gracchan land commission. Therefore it is likely that Italian veteres possessores were also granted secure tenure of a maximum of 500 iugera. Thus, I argue that elite Italians in fact gained much from the Gracchan land reforms: security of tenure and, by 118, full property of up to 500 iugera of former Roman ager publicus. Notwithstanding the apparent concerns of Tiberius for the fate of the Italians, it seems therefore as if they received no other tangible benefits from the Gracchan reform, apart from the grant of secure tenure of 500 iugera. Therefore, the Gracchan period brought with it important changes in the status of the land held by the allies, whose holdings were privatized in many cases, but at the same time there were some issues which may have led to resentment among the allies. Italians had used Roman ager publicus for a long time, never considering that it could be taken away from them. Suddenly landed possessions had become insecure for the Italians; very importantly, the Italians suffered from the fact that measurements made by the land commission were done very quickly, and not always very accurately, as Appian explains: ‘When land of a different category which bordered on public land had been sold or distributed to the allies, in order to establish its dimensions the whole lot had to be investigated, and how it had been sold or distributed. Not all owners had kept their contracts of sale or titles of allotment, and such as were actually discovered were inconclusive. … Even in the beginning the division had never been done with any great accuracy, as this was territory seized by war. The proclamation that anyone who wished could work unallocated land encouraged many to cultivate what lay next to their own property and blur the distinction between the two, and the passage of time put everything on a fresh basis. Thus the injustice done by the rich, although great, was not easy to ascertain. So there was nothing but a general turn-about, all parties being moved out of their own places and settling down in other people’s. All this then, and the haste with which judgments were given on these disputes, was more than the Italians could bear, and they chose Cornelius Scipio [Aemilianus] … to be spokesman for their grievances.’30 However, Aemilianus was unable to assist the Italians in the matter. It seems that Italians were suffering more than Roman citizens from incorrect measurements and that in some cases their private land was taken by the Roman state for distribution. Indeed most of the undistributed ager publicus was held by Italians, as

30

App. BCiv. 1.19.

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I have argued, so they would have suffered more than Roman citizens from the land distributions. The events surrounding ager publicus in the Gracchan period were essential in the growth of dissatisfaction among the Italian allies in the late second century and eventually, therefore, in the outbreak of the Social War. It is likely that problems surrounding the distribution of ager publicus were the most important economic concern of the Italians in the late second century. It is in the context of the debate about ager publicus in the 120s BC that we hear for the first time about the idea of granting citizenship to Italians; clearly the two issues were closely connected. It was suggested that the Italians would be more willing to give up their land if they received citizenship in exchange. It must be noted that the proposal to give citizenship came from Roman politicians, not from Italians, although they were willing to accept it. This at first sight looks rather odd: why would Italians prefer Roman citizenship, which did not have any direct economic benefits, to the possession of land, which clearly brought in large profits? Of course Appian, our most important source, wrote two centuries after the events and he may have overestimated the desire for citizenship among the Italians. However, there were tangible, material benefits to having citizenship, which may have been rated equally high by the Italians as holding ager publicus. 6. Options for legal protection An important issue for the Italians was the lack of legal protection. The lack of Roman citizenship had significant negative effects on the economic activities of the Italians. The Roman state in fact acknowledged these problems and created new methods of solving them. An outright grant of citizenship to the allies, which would have solved their problems effectively, was out of the question. There are several reasons why the Romans were reluctant to give the allies citizenship, many of which were quite real in an economic or political sense. For example, it may be that the Romans feared that it would be more difficult to recruit sufficient numbers of soldiers for the army; citizens could not be obliged to serve, like allies could. They would also have to receive equal shares of land and other spoils after successful wars. Moreover, the Romans would have to supply citizen soldiers with equipment and food, which had until now been supplied by the allied states. Since citizens did not pay direct taxes, this would be very expensive for the state. They would also be entitled to grain at a lower price, which Gaius Gracchus had instituted for citizens; to gain their votes, they would need to be bribed and feted before elections. Italians turned citizens would, of course, also have an influence on elections and votes in Rome, and since they were in the majority, old citizens would lose power. Roman publicani may have feared competition in bidding for public contracts from Italian merchants. Finally, whichever Roman politician successfully proposed a law to give allies citizenship, would gain

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an enormous clientele and thereby power in Roman politics.31 Lower-class citizens of Rome considered Roman citizenship as a jealously guarded asset, which was not shared lightly;32 they understood that if such things as land and grain distributions had to be shared with large numbers of new citizens, there would be less for everyone. Their votes would be less important in the assemblies, and they would receive fewer bribes and hand-outs. All these considerations posed serious threats to the Roman state, especially in the financial sphere: giving citizenship to allies would be extremely expensive. It would also cause upheaval in the established political system of the state. In the late second century the Romans in fact recognized the validity of the Italians’ grievances, as well as the importance of keeping their allies happy. One way to do this was to take action against magistrates who abused their powers. However, in most cases the Senate only acted when it received a complaint from an ally, and often no action was taken at all. In 123 the Lex Acilia repetundarum was passed on the instigation of Gaius Gracchus, which created a set procedure for the prosecution of extortionate officials. The law stated that an ally who successfully prosecuted a Roman was to be granted the citizenship, or, if he preferred to keep his own citizenship, to receive provocatio and freedom from military service and public services (munera) in his home town.33 The law recognized that not all allies might want to become citizens and offered provocatio as an alternative reward. Provocatio offered protection against abuse by magistrates; normally a magistrate had the power to imprison, fine, flog, enslave, banish, confiscate property, and mandate pledges and oaths from citizens and allies; the rights of provocatio, which all citizens held, allowed them to appeal these rulings with the concilium plebis. Thus, if allies were granted this right as well, they would have been able to appeal any magisterial decision of this type. It has been suggested that the ius provocationis was not of much use, since it could always be overridden by a magistrate.34 Certainly having citizenship would have offered a higher level of protection against abuse, but provocatio at least offered some protection. The Roman state thus acknowledged that not all Italians wanted to become citizens, but also that random abuse by Roman magistrates was a very important grievance to them. The Lex Acilia offered a new way of making Roman magistrates adhere to the rules, which might have satisfied the Italians. Unfortunately, it was not very effective. Most governors who were prosecuted were acquitted; only a few successful prosecutions are known.

31 32 33 34

See Kendall 2013, 269–84, for an analysis of all possible motivations of the Romans against giving the Italians citizenship. See Coşkun 2009. Roman Statutes 1, lines 76–9. Brunt 1988, 126–7.

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Another way in which allies, most likely only Latins, might receive citizenship was through the ius adipiscendi civitatem Romanum per magistratum, i. e. the ‘right to receive Roman citizenship through holding a magistracy’. Unfortunately much uncertainty exists about the contents of this right. It is assumed that this regulation allowed magistrates of an Italian town to become Roman citizens after the term of the magistracy. As we just saw, the Lex Acilia repetundarum awarded successful prosecutors either the Roman citizenship, or, if they did not wish to become citizens, provocatio and vacatio. This option was given to ‘[whoever of them …] shall not have been [?duumvir, consul, dicta]tor, praetor or aedile’. Apparently those who had exercised these offices in their home towns had been granted provocatio and vacatio, and perhaps citizenship, because of their service – another important indication that allies did not necessarily want to become citizens, but that their grievances were recognized by the Roman state. Most scholars argue that the lex repetundarum introduced the civitas per magistratum for Latins, or at least that it was introduced around 125, although the date is debated.35 We can see that the Romans were aware of the discontent among their allies and some of the main causes for it. They did not consider it feasible to give all allies citizenship, but tried to dispel some of the allied grievances by other methods. This could not solve all problems: the economic disadvantages that the allies suffered could not be taken away except by a grant of citizenship, which the Romans were not prepared to give them. Those problems that they could solve, however, received their attention: provocatio was granted to protect allies against abuse. This again shows that not all Italians were equally willing to accept citizenship; however, more possibilities to gain citizenship were created in this period and some Italians profited from this. However, none of these methods were very successful in protecting the Italian allies against abuse and against the confiscation of land. Acquiring citizenship would not give them the right to occupy ager publicus. In fact, nobody had this right, since its possession was always precarious and the land could be taken away at any time by the Roman state, whether its users were citizens or not. However, citizens were protected against random confiscations of their private land, if these were endangered during land distribution schemes; rather than having to approach a Roman senator to gain redress, which in this case proved ineffective, they would have access to the Roman courts to protect their titles to privately owned land. Therefore, when these alternative methods of protecting the allies’ interests were not effective, the allies again returned to demanding citizenship itself.

35

Keaveney 1987, 84; Brunt 1988, 97.

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7. Conclusion All these events took place in a period which might be called transitional between hegemony and empire, since Rome had achieved hegemony over Italy, but not yet formalized the relations with the Italians in law. Thus, relations sometimes broke down into anarchy, when Rome simply used its hegemonial power to force the Italians to obey, rather than follow the rule of law. This was the case, for example, in the Gracchan period: the Italians had no rights to Roman ager publicus, even if they had worked it for decades after its official confiscation, but they did have rights to their own private land. The Gracchan land commission seems to have cared very little about the boundaries between the two types of land, and simply distributed any land it could lay its hands on. The Italians had no legal redress against the appropriation of their private land; they could only approach a private Roman senator. But when he died, the Roman Senate could easily ignore their protests. Obviously the Italians and the Romans were aware that the lack of legal regulations was a problem. This legal uncertainty was the most damaging in the problems surrounding land, since agriculture was the basis of subsistence for all Italians. The Roman state introduced various methods for protecting the interests of the allies, but these were not effective. Therefore, the allies continued to demand the Roman citizenship. I argue that the problems surrounding ager publicus were central to the dissatisfaction that the Italians experienced in the late second century. This was in my view one of the most important reasons for the outbreak of the Social War. Of course the direct cause for the Social War was Drusus’ failed attempt at land reform, but his failure led to war because of the previous experiences of the allies in the period 133–91 BC. They had already been disappointed by the Romans before, with their land being taken away, while promises of legal protection, in the form of the Roman citizenship, came to nothing. Drusus’ failure showed that in the 90s the Romans were still not forthcoming in granting legal protection. They were happy to maintain a hegemonial position, but the Italian allies revolted against this. If they were to be ruled by Rome, they demanded that their rights and duties were written down, so that there could be no surprises. We may conclude that Rome’s hegemonial position over Italy and, most importantly, Italian land, was an essential aspect of its rule, but also a main reason for the anarchy that characterized the late second century BC – and in fact this anarchy surrounding land continued in the first century. The Gracchan land reform was seen by many, including Appian, as the start of the civil wars, and with good reason. Even after the Social War, land remained a heated issue in the civil wars, until Rome’s Empire was truly established.

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Bibliography Arthur 1991 = P. Arthur, Territories, Wine and Wealth: Suessa Aurunca, Sinuessa, Minturnae and the Ager Falernus, in: Barker/Lloyd (Eds.), 153–59 Ax 1990 = W. Ax (Hg.), Memoria rerum veterum. Neue Beiträge zur antiken Historiographie und alten Geschichte. Festschrift für Carl Joachim Classen zum 60. Geburtstag, Stuttgart Barker/Lloyd 1991 = G. Barker / J. Lloyd (Eds.), Roman Landscapes: Archaeological Survey in the Mediterranean Region, London Bleicken 1990 = J. Bleicken, Tiberius Gracchus und die italischen Bundesgenossen, in: Ax (Hg.), 101–31 Broadhead 2002 = W. Broadhead, Internal Migration and the Transformation of Republican Italy, University College London, unpublished PhD Thesis Brunt 1988 = P. A. Brunt, The Fall of the Roman Republic and other Essays, Oxford Càssola 1970/71 = F. Càssola, Romani e Italici in Oriente, in: Dialoghi di Archeologia 4–5, 305–29 Coccia/Mattingly 1992 = S. Coccia / D. Mattingly, Settlement History, Environment and Human Exploitation of an Intermontane Basin in the Central Apennines: the Rieti Survey 1988/1991, vol. 1, in: Papers of the British School at Rome 60, 213–89 Coşkun 2009 = A. Coşkun, Bürgerrechtsentzug oder Fremdenausweisung? Studien zu den Rechten von Latinern und weiteren Fremden sowie zum Bürgerrechtswechsel in der Römischen Republik (5. bis frühes 1. Jh. v. Chr.), Stuttgart Crawford 1981 = M. H. Crawford, Italy and Rome, in: Journal of Roman Studies 71, 153–60 Crawford 1996 = M. H. Crawford, Roman Statutes (Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Suppl. 64), London De Cazanove 2000 = O. De Cazanove, I destinatari dell’iscrizione di Tiriolo e la questione del campo d’applicazione del senatoconsulto de Bacchanalibus, in: Athenaeum 88, 59–69 De Ligt 2012 = L. de Ligt, Peasants, Citizens and Soldiers. Studies in the Demographic History of Roman Italy 225 BC-AD 100, Cambridge Dench 1995 = E. Dench, From Barbarians to New Men. Greek, Roman and Modern Perceptions of Peoples of the Central Apennines, Oxford Di Giuseppe 2005 = H. Di Giuseppe, Villae, villulae e fattorie nella Media valle del Tevere, in: Santillo Frizell/Klynne (Eds.), 1–19 Hopkins 1978 = K. Hopkins, Conquerors and Slaves, Cambridge Imagines 2011= M. H. Crawford (Ed.), Imagines italicae. A Corpus of Italic Inscriptions, London Johannowsky 1976 = W. Johannowsky, La situazione in Campania, in: Zanker (Hg.), 267–99 Kay 2014 = P. Kay, Rome’s Economic Revolution, Oxford Kendall 2013 = S. Kendall, The Struggle for Roman Citizenship. Romans, Allies, and the Wars of 91–77 BCE, Piscataway, NJ Laurence/Wallace-Hadrill 1997 = R. Laurence / A. Wallace-Hadrill (Eds.), Domestic Space in the Roman World. Pompeii and Beyond, Portsmouth, RI Lo Cascio 1994 = E. Lo Cascio, The Size of the Roman Population: Beloch and the Meaning of the Augustan Census Figures, in: Journal of Roman Studies 84, 23–40 Marzano 2007 = A. Marzano, Roman Villas in Central Italy: a Social and Economic History, Leiden Pailler 1988 = J.-M. Pailler, Bacchanalia. La répression de 186 av. J.-C. à Rome et en Italie: Vestiges, Images, Tradition, Rome

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Richardson 1980 = J. S. Richardson, The Ownership of Roman Land: Tiberius Gracchus and the Italians, in: Journal of Roman Studies 70, 1–11 Roselaar 2010 = S. T. Roselaar, Public Land in the Roman Republic: a Social and Economic History of ager publicus in Italy, 396–89 BC, Oxford Roselaar 2011 = S. T. Roselaar, Colonies and Processes of Integration in the Roman Republic, in: Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, Antiquité 123, 527–55 Rosenstein 2008 = N. Rosenstein, Aristocrats and Agriculture in the Middle and Late Republic, in: Journal of Roman Studies 98, 1–26 Salmon 1982 = E. T. Salmon, The Making of Roman Italy, London Santillo Frizell/Klynne 2005 = B. Santillo Frizell / A. Klynne (Eds.), Roman Villas around the Urbs: Interaction with Landscape and Environment, Rome Toynbee 1965 = A. J. Toynbee, Hannibal’s Legacy. The Hannibalic War’s Effects on Roman Life, London Wallace-Hadrill 1997 = A. Wallace-Hadrill, Rethinking the Roman Atrium House, in: Laurence/ Wallace-Hadrill (Eds.), 219–40 Zanker 1976 = P. Zanker (Hg.), Hellenismus in Mittelitalien, Göttingen

III. Integrating the Italian Romans, 91–31 BC

State formation and the Social War Guy Bradley (Cardiff) 1. Introduction In 43 BC an 80-year-old man named Statius was proscribed by the triumvirate. Knowing he was doomed, he threw open his house to all comers to help themselves to his property. The man was a senator, and according to Appian had ‘had great influence with the Samnites during the Social War’.1 Statius was probably a member of a wealthy Samnite family, the Statii, known from their sponsorship of major building projects before the Social War, such as a temple at Pietrabbondante. After an important but unspecified role in the Social War, he became a citizen and rose to high office in the Roman state.2 This anecdote reveals how much the lives of such Italian individuals had been transformed by the Social War. There are many important questions still to answer about the Social War. Modern historiography seems to be growing at a considerable rate, attesting the vitality of scholarly interest in this pivotal conflict.3 Much recent debate has focused on the sources for the war and the motives of the allies, questioning whether Roman citizenship was ever their goal.4 These studies have usefully critiqued monolithic earlier explanations, and reinvigorated the debate over the diversity of reasons why the war was joined. Most scholars have accepted the consensus in the ancient sources that a desire for citizenship is evident amongst the allies in the second century BC, but some dispute whether a collective desire for citizenship was adhered to during the war.5 We need to consider a wide range of reasons to understand why the allies took part in the Social War; not 1 2 3 4 5

App. BCiv. 4.25. Gruen 1974, 204 n. 171; Dart 2014, 232, thinks he was pro-Roman in the Social War, but this seems unlikely from Appian’s characterisation of him. As is clear from Cappelletti’s online site on Italian constitutions: https://www.arcait.it/en/biblio grafia/social-war/. See Mouritsen 1998; Pobjoy 2000, 187–211; Kendall 2013; Dart 2014. Important overviews: Bispham 2016, 76–89; Santangelo 2017, 231–253. Mouritsen 1998; Pobjoy 2000. Dart 2014 has recently restated the arguments for the traditional view.

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only desire for citizenship, but also protection against agrarian reforms, interest in imperial exploitation, provocatio as defence against abuse, and ultimately a wish for independence from or co-existence with or the destruction of Rome.6 The issue is far from settled in modern scholarship, with recent work highlighting the paradox of the allies fighting against the very state into which they hoped to be incorporated.7 Less plausible are recent arguments that there was little allied interest at all in Roman citizenship. We have near contemporary sources that contradict this: Cicero records an eye witness account of the meeting between Cn Pompeius and Vettius Scato, and reports that ‘the allies were aiming, not to rob us of our state, but to be received as members of it’.8 Allied interest in citizenship is also presupposed by events in the half century before the war, with the enfranchisements of Marius, the citizenship proposals of Fulvius Flaccus, and the expulsion of Italians from Rome enforced by the lex Licinia Mucia. It is true that a contemporary speech preserved in the Rhetorica ad Herennium suggests that the allies wanted to conquer and destroy Rome. But it is important to note the rhetorical context of this speech, an attack under the Lex Varia on those thought to have favoured the allies. It is effectively anti-allied propaganda, and makes some implausible claims (such as the idea that the allies were underprepared). In addition, we should not overestimate the value of the allies’ ‘independence’ in the second century BC. Although allied states had nominal autonomy, in practice they had to reckon with what Fronda terms ‘a steeply unipolar hierarchy of Italian states’ behind Rome.9 This is particularly true for the independent but small-scale communities found in areas of the central Appennines such as Umbria, whose freedom of action in this period needs to be seen in a realistic light. Another important area of recent research has focused on the relationship between Romanisation and the Social War. Brunt highlighted these links in his seminal article on the ‘Aims of the allies at the time of the Social War’, arguing that adoption by the allies of Roman cultural traits showed that they were also keen to ‘become Roman’ by gaining citizenship.10 This hypothesis has been undermined in modern scholarship on the grounds that it reflects 19th century nationalist ideas about cultural identity and because identity cannot be assumed to be an unambiguous reflection of citizenship, culture or language.11 The lack of connection between cultural change and stance in the Social War is in any case evident from contradictory scholarly arguments. Some have argued that a lack of cultural Romanisation shows that allies such as the Samnites were eager to resist Rome in the war, whereas others have argued that the Romanisa-

6 7 8 9 10 11

Well summarised by Patterson 2012, 215–226. Mouritsen 1998; Pobjoy 2000, 187–211. Cic. Phil. 12.27; see Galsterer 2006, 293–308. Fronda 2010, 28. Brunt 1965, 90–109; revised Brunt 1988, 93–143. See e. g. Mouritsen 1998; Bradley 2000, chap. 5; Carlà-Uhink 2017.

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tion of allies such as the Marsi shows that they were eager to fight to become Roman citizens.12 This is because rebellion and Romanisation do not closely align, with both Romanised Marsi and less Romanised Samnites forming key players in the revolt. Allegiances also do not neatly correspond to language groups. For instance, there were a mix of Latin and non-Latin speakers on the Roman side (evident for example from sling-shots inscribed in Venetic at Asculum), while the allies probably used Latin for much of their communication. But despite these complex issues it is undoubtedly true that the extensive cultural changes in Italy in the third and second century BC must be part of the undercurrents leading to war in 91 BC.13 Another interesting issue concerns the course of the war, in terms of Roman imperialism and Roman and allied strategy. Despite intensive interest in Roman imperialism in recent years, we still have many important issues to address with the Social War. Why did Rome not anticipate the war, given the increasingly close links of allied and Roman elites? Was war a Roman choice, or was it forced upon them? How did they approach fighting a war against forces that had formed a critical part of their armies for the last two centuries? Equally important and difficult to resolve are the questions from the allied viewpoint. How far had the allies planned for war? What did the allies think they could gain from a war with the most formidable military force in the Hellenistic Mediterranean? Was the war intentional or accidental?14 Recent scholarship has also highlighted the great diversity of the sources making up our tradition. There is some near contemporary material, such as epigraphic texts and the testimony of Cicero and the Rhetorica ad Herennium. We have lost many crucial works that must have provided the key narratives used by later sources, such as Sisenna’s history of the war written in the 70s BC, or Livy’s chapters in his Ab Urbe Condita.15 Much of our source material dates to at least a century later, and the inevitable hindsight that this brings leads to distancing and lack of full comprehension (for example, Appian on status divisions amongst Italians), or over-generalisation (several sources claim that all the peoples of Italy rebelled). A particular challenge is the simplifying approach that most sources adopt to the ethnic groups fighting on each side, seeing it as a war between Rome and various ‘peoples’ of Italy. In fact, as we shall see, this misrepresents the complexity of the ethnic situation, and in what follows I will pay particular attention to the tension between centrifugal and atomising forces amongst the allies. It is thus worth emphasising the lack of easy answers and the complexity of the situation that we are discussing. A major end product of recent scholarly debate has been

12 13 14 15

Samnites resistant: Salmon 1967; Marsi enthusiastic for citizenship: Brunt 1998; Devoto 1951 argues for two poles amongst the allies. Galsterer 2006; Bispham 2016, 84. Some consideration of these questions in Fronda 2010, 280–330, Kendall 2013, Dart 2014. Sisenna: Cornell FRH I 308; Santangelo 2017 emphasises the importance of these lost accounts.

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as much about the realisation of the limits of our knowledge, and the dissolution of the old consensus, as about answers. A war that we thought we understood with few issues has emerged in recent years as far more complex. My paper thus focuses on some of the problems and messier issues of the Social War, and the absence of overarching single explanations. 2. Approaches One predominant conclusion from much recent scholarship seems to be the avoidance of meta-narratives, and the importance of looking to more localised interpretations.16 Critics argue that metanarratives are problematic as they impose undue order on the unruly chaos of actual events, are created by power structures and are inherently slanted. An awareness of these issues does not undermine all grand narratives, but it does help emphasise the importance of a multiplicity of theoretical standpoints. Mouritsen makes a persuasive case that Romanisation and the unification of Italy should be treated as one such grand narrative. The Romanisation paradigm, if we can talk of that, is by no means disregarded in modern scholarship, and there is much resistance to dropping it despite heavy critique. To my mind it remains a useful concept, particularly in terms of language change for instance, although its implications for identity are questionable. Nevertheless, the weakening of the Romanisation paradigm over the past few decades has allowed space for other concepts like state formation, network theory and globalisation to be explored. Recent trends thus encourage us to problematise the grand narrative about the Social War, and it is notable that contemporary scholarship has not sought a similar over-arching explanation for the course of the Hannibalic War.17 Scheidel has recently applied the concept of state formation to Rome in the second century BC.18 Following his lead, it is also worth applying this concept more broadly in Roman Italy, in terms of allied states in the period between the conquest and the Social War.19 In Umbria, for instance, trends towards greater social complexity begin before the conquest and continue in the third and second century BC.20 Growing pop16 17 18 19

20

Mouritsen 2006, 25 has a useful discussion of H. White’s work on these lines. Cf. Eckstein 2006 and other recent approaches to Roman imperialism informed by theories from International Relations. E. g. Fronda 2010 emphasises the importance of local conditions in understanding the course of this war. Scheidel 2006, 207–226. Woolf (presentation at the ICS, London 2016) noted the criticisms levelled at state formation as a model: Yoffee argued that a diversity of experiences is characteristic rather than a unilinear development; collapses are very common, and trends are more of states coming and going. James C. Scott asserts that state formation is not a positive development for those enclosed, and people escape if possible, especially in upland areas. Bradley 2000.

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ulations are evident in many allied areas, a characteristic now mostly agreed whether scholars take a high or low count approach towards the Roman census figures, based on expanding city areas and an increasing density of sites in field survey.21 We also see the scale of allied cities increasing, and the associated development of more educated elites, literacy, and social differentiation. The economies of Italian allied communities were becoming more sophisticated, with the intensification of agricultural activity, short and long-distance transhumance, and increasing participation in commercial traffic abroad in the Mediterranean in places such as Africa, Asia Minor, and Delos. These types of developments are particularly evident in areas of the Appennines such as Samnium, where Gualtieri and others have argued for the quasi-urban status of sites such as Monte Vairano. In other areas, state formation may regress or reverse (coastal Etruria is perhaps a case of this, as may be second century Lucania). We also see an increasing complexity of institutional structures across allied Italy in the second century BC: magistrates, councils, and assemblies are attested in Italic epigraphy, and new allied institutions such as the quaestorship are often borrowed from Rome. Substantial complexity and control are implied by the requirements of treaties with Rome, as I have argued for Umbria. These treaties envisage allied authorities holding records of available fighting strength and people’s wealth, probably through the institution of the census. The office of censor is widely attested in the epigraphy of allied communities in the second century BC, showing that a census was regularly practiced for military purposes. Similar conclusions about political organisation can be drawn for states that issue coinage in the third century, such as Tuder and Iguvium in Umbria. Coinage was used to pay for troop contingents to the Roman army. Whilst these trends are not universal and unilinear, the diversity of allied development in the second century BC is reflected in the variegated responses to the Social War. Another useful theoretical perspective on allied Italy in the pre-Social War period can be obtained from theories of globalisation and networks. This period sees the increasing globalisation of Italian economies to reflect Mediterranean-wide cultural trends. This is visible through Hellenistic style architecture in towns and sanctuaries, the homogenization of pottery styles, and the greater uniformity evident in burials. The key development in this period culturally is perhaps that the koine that had affected Tyrrhenian Italy in the archaic and classical period becomes peninsular-wide in the third and second centuries. The sharing of cultural ideas and practices are enhanced by increasing sea (and probably river traffic), and new roads into the Appennines, such as the via Flaminia, that connect up different regions.22 Increasing interconnections of Italian elites with their Roman counterparts are attested in this period, in terms of hospitality, mobility and intermarriage.23 The allies 21 22 23

Lanauro 2011. Sea traffic: see shipwrecks in Wilson 2011, 33–59; for roads, see Coarelli 1988, 35–48. See Lomas 2012, 197–214; Patterson 2012.

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had extremely close relations with Rome by the time of the Social War. This is attested by a range of sources for the period both before and during the Social War. For example, a Roman author claims that ‘not only must [the allies] have known themselves, their resources, and their manpower, but their nearness to us and their alliance with us in all affairs enabled them no less to learn and appraise the power of the Roman people in every sphere’ (Rhet Her 9.11). Cicero’s defence of Roscius in 80 BC shows the close relations of the Roscii with Roman elite patrons, relationships that must predate the Social War (Cic. Rosc Am 6.15). Even more striking are close links between allied leaders and their Roman counterparts attested before and during the war. Vettius Scato spoke to Pompeius Strabo as a ‘friend at heart but by necessity an enemy’ (Cic. Phil. 12.27), probably referring to earlier relations of hospitium. Poppaedius Silo was staying with Livius Drusus in Rome before Drusus was assassinated (Plut. Cat Min 1–2), and knew his family. Furthermore, when Marius and Vettius Scato met in battle in 90 BC, their troops preferred to fraternise rather than fight: ‘the soldiers of each army recognized many of their hosts, their comrades, and finally many of those with whom they were bound by family ties’ (Diod. Sic. 37.15). Thus, links of friendship, hospitality, and intermarriage extended beyond the elite, and amongst the masses on either side, aided by their shared military service in campaigns such as against the Cimbri and Teutones.24 This helps to explain why tension could build up for such a long time before it led to rebellion, and why the allies continued to seek political solutions to their lack of status well after the revolt of Fregellae in 125 BC. 3. The outbreak of the Social War The consequences of these developments are important for understanding the backdrop to the Social War. Italian allied societies had in the third and second centuries BC become more complex and more organised, with a diversity of development trends. At the same time Italian communities were increasingly interlinked with each other and with Rome. Thus, when we come to considering the Social War, we need to reckon with a different scenario from previous wars such as the Roman conquest and the Hannibalic War. Our sources provide various lists of those who joined the rebellion when it broke out in 91 BC.25 The lists drawn from Livy and Diodorus represent summaries by later epitomisers, and are unlikely to reflect the full range of rebels. Neither include any Apulian peoples, for instance. The list taken from Appian is more complete.

24 25

Dart 2014, 126 notes that Poppaedius Silo’s extensive military experience recorded by Plutarch must have come in an allied contingent in the Roman army. Peoples not listed by the other sources are italicised. Cf. Oros. 5.18.8; Eutr. 5.31.; Flor. 2.6.5.

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Appian BCiv. 1.39

Livy Epit. 72

Diodorus 37.2

Marsi

Picentes

Marsi

Peligni

Vestini

Samnites

Vestini

Marsi

Asculani

Marrucini

Paeligni

Lucani

Picentines

Marrucini

Picentes

Frentani

Samnites

Nolani

Hirpini

Lucani

Pompeiani Venusini Iapygii Lucanians Samnites All others below a line from the Liris to the Adriatic gulf

Our sources essentially conceive the rebellion as made up of the peoples of particular regions, although there are some city states too (the people of Pompeii, Venusia, Asculum and Nola). These lists are likely to reflect contemporary Roman records and so give us an insight into how the rebellion was understood at the time.26 But the accuracy of such a vision is questionable, and it is tempting to see the influence of conservative Roman propaganda, and perhaps even the domination of Sulla, who identified whole peoples such as the Samnites as enemies. For all the allies there was a tension between centrifugal forces of common aims such as citizenship and the need for collective defence, and more divisive forces such as individual and community self-interest. The fragmentation of Italian aims, both between and within societies, makes understanding the war in terms of ethnic blocks problematic. The Social War was a divisive issue like the Italian peoples’ defence against Rome during the conquest, or in the war with Hannibal. There were some very difficult and liminal decisions to be made. Some allied towns made the choice to rebel; others were coerced; some held out against the rebels. Some tendencies are readily notable. The Latins were on the whole loyal. The rebellion was most tightly adhered to in the central and southern Appennine areas. The Greek cities remained aloof. But there were no dominant rules. Two Latin colonies rebelled in this period (if we include Fregellae in 125 BC) despite the risks (on which

26

Salmon 1958, 162.

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see below). Areas such as Apulia and Campania were split, with many cities in these districts only joining the rebellion as a result of coercion. Some allies joined the rebellion later on, such as the Umbrians and Etruscans. Many must have shared the aims of the rebels but will have been deterred by the steep military odds: according to Sallust ‘all Italy defected in spirit’ (Sall. Hist 1.18). In many ways the surprise is that the revolt involved so many of the allies, given the challenges they faced, and that it spread more widely in spite of the fierce fighting in 90BC. One important factor is the influence of previous conflicts, notably the Hannibalic War. There are strong parallels with the defections against Rome in the Hannibalic War, and the influence of pre-existing interconnections is visible. Appian (App. BCiv 1.39) says that ‘when the revolt broke out all the neighbouring peoples declared war at the same time, the Marsi, the Peligni, the Vestini, the Marrucini’, a group that had cooperated closely in the period of the Roman conquest. He adds that after them came ‘the Picentines, the Frentani, the Hirpini, the Pompeiani, the Venusini, the Apulians, the Lucanians, and the Samnites, all of whom had been hostile to the Romans before’. Appian stresses that the stance of the rebels was influenced by their previous wars against Rome. But this is somewhat misleading, given that the Venusini were Latins who had been loyal previously, and the Picentines and the Pentri amongst the Samnites were also loyal in the Hannibalic War yet joined the Social War rebels. Fronda has recently argued that the rebels in the Social War were much more coherent and organised than in the Hannibalic War.27 They were more prepared for the conflict, and we have fewer reports of internal divisions within Italian communities. But it is important to bear in mind the very different nature of our source material, which probably conceals greater complexity. The detailed narrative of Livy and Polybius for the Second Punic War provides much more nuance on such divisions than Appian and other sources for the Social War. Another important issue is the role of ethnic or league structures of Italian groups. Although they are commonly assumed to have been dismembered systematically by Rome, Bourdin (this volume)28 has argued for a greater continuity of ethnic leagues after the conquest, highlighting the evidence for the continuity of federal sanctuaries such as the Villa Fidelia for the Umbrians, and the Fanum Voltumnae, perhaps the Campo della Fiera at Orvieto, for the Etruscans. He suggests that these leagues were the basis for the levying of ethnic contingents of troops that served in the Roman army, an organisation visible in Fabius Pictor’s summary of Roman forces in 225 BC. Censorial types of magistrates, such as the Oscan kenzur, were needed for this levy and hence crop up in Italic epigraphy. Rome thus worked with leagues, rather than against them. The implications for the Social War are very intriguing, as it implies greater continu-

27 28

Fronda 2010, 329. Bourdin 2019 (in this volume).

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ity with pre-conquest structures, and that ethnic leagues provide the basis for allied armies. Allied armies in the Social War would thus naturally fall into coherent ethnic blocks. Ethnically based contingents in the allied armies are clearly attested in our ancient sources. But the role of leagues in recruitment for the Social War is uncertain, and the idea that the allies fought as ethnic ‘peoples’ is an over-simplification. Many cities are likely to have had individual treaties with Rome, indicating their own troop-raising powers.29 Continuity in sanctuary life is not clear evidence for political structures, which may have been viewed with suspicion by Rome. Furthermore, in most cases ‘ethnic armies’ will generally have only included a portion of the centres within a particular region. Many Etruscan and Umbrian centres are likely to have remained loyal. Amongst the Samnites, the Hirpini were probably a partial exception. It is also striking that the named rebels in our sources include cities as well as peoples, such as the Pompeiani and the Venusini. For what it’s worth, the epigraphic and numismatic evidence from the allies does not suggest a strong ethnic adherence. The slingshots found at Asculum tend to name ‘Italians’ or the cities the participants belonged to (Asculum, Firmum, Opitergium), rather than ethnic groupings.30 The coinage emphasises Italia (in Latin) or its Oscan equivalent Viteliú, although one issue does name the Samnites (Safinim). Remaining ethnic leagues would thus not always have had the adherence of all the people within that group. It is also important to consider the course of the war. We tend to think of it in terms of peoples. But any attempt to map the war shows the simplistic nature of this vision, and armies and battles are unlikely to have respected the neat territorial boundaries marked on maps.31 At the opening of the war allied forces immediately besiege loyal centres. The narrative of the war records a few set piece battles between large armies, many sieges, and various small skirmishes – the latter two types of battle were likely to be predominant, and add to the complexity of the picture. In a few cases such as Pinna and Asculum we hear about internal splits between pro- and anti-Roman factions in these towns. However, the distribution of Roman citizenship and the mixing of populations in many areas of Italy in the second century BC make this likely on a wide scale. We have the key example of Minatius Magius, a loyal individual from a rebel community (discussed below), examples of betrayals of cities such as Nola, and can see the town by town progress of the war, particularly in Campania. There only the Pompeiani are listed initially as rebels by Appian. In 90 BC Nola was pro-Roman but captured by Papius Mutilus. Papius then used the Nolani and the Romans who joined his side (these proved to be the soldiers rather than officers), and went on to capture Stabiae, Surrentum and Salernum (App. BCiv. 1.42). Unlike in the Hannibalic War, 29 30 31

For Umbria, see Bradley 2000, 118–128. Glandes: ILLRP 1089–1102; Warmington, Remains of Old Latin, 213; Carlà-Uhink 2017, 380. For one attempt, see Cornell/Matthews 1982.

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Capua remained loyal (Cic. Leg 2.3.3). In the following year, 89 BC, Sulla besieged and captured Herculaneum and Pompeii. He destroyed Stabiae, defeated the allied general Cluentius before Nola and besieged that city. Nola was still holding out when Sulla marched on Rome in 88 BC. Changes of side and changes of allegiance of the inhabitants and garrisons present indicate the difficulty they had in negotiating the pressures on them: few will have been able to make unconstrained decisions purely on the basis of principles. The position of the Latins in the Social War is also very intriguing. If we consider the Gracchan period too, it is notable that two Latin colonies, Fregellae and Venusia, rebel against Rome, in contrast to their loyalty in the Hannibalic War (leaving aside rejection of manpower demands). Both disloyal colonies have been explained in terms of their unusually mixed populations, with substantial Oscan speaking elements due to immigration, but I doubt that either are particularly unique in this. Narnia in Umbria and Puteoli in Campania experienced similar immigration, which must have been common for many colonies in the second century BC.32 Fregellae must have expected more support from other Latin cities, which was not forthcoming. The rebellion of Venusia may be connected with its position deep in allied southern Italy, and its distance from Roman retaliation. It is also possible that the Latins may have delayed enthusiastic participation in the war until the passage of lex Julia in late 90.33 But most Latin colonies do play an important role as strongholds and as refuges for Roman forces in the early part of the war. Their desire for Roman citizenship and dissatisfaction with its refusal by Rome seems evident from the fact that some colonies did rebel, but they faced difficult choices. Hence the varied responses by different colonies, and it is unclear to what extent they acted as a coherent block. It is ironic that Roman strategy comes to depend on colonies founded (on the whole) two centuries earlier or more. This is often taken as proof of some Roman strategic genius and the foresight of their ancestors (so Cic. Leg. Agr. 2.73).34 In fact, without hindsight it is implausible that Rome could have predicted anything like the Social War in the period around 300 BC. The fact that Rome made these colonies Latin rather than Roman, and thus prone to the same fears as the other allies, demonstrates this quite clearly.35 There is also evidence that the Senate was alarmed by the prospect of a wider Latin rebellion occurring. Soon after the start of the war, the Senate instructed Julius Caesar, the consul of 90 BC, to restore the temple of Juno Sospita (Cic. Div 1.4; 1.54; Obsequens 55). This was a Latin cult worshipped collectively by Rome and Lanuvium, in an arrangement that dated back to at least 338 BC (Livy 8.14). The action may have been in response to an omen that Cicero describes as ‘the sign considered by the soothsayers 32 33 34 35

Bradley 2006, 174. Mouritsen 1998; Kendall 2013. Bradley 2014, 60–72. For Latin as well as allied vulnerability to Roman abuses, see Diod. Sic. 37.12.

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the most ominous of all–the shields at Lanuvium were gnawed by mice’. This omen occurred ‘at the outbreak of the Marsian War’, and suggests that the Romans were experiencing considerable anxiety about their relationship with the Latins.36 There is also the issue of whether support for the rebellion was clearly divided according to class lines. It is likely that there is a class outlook, with the elite favouring Rome and the masses the insurgents, given that similar divisions had occurred in the Hannibalic War, and the insurgents sometimes freed or treated leniently the popular element in the cities they captured.37 But there is no evidence that this is a determining factor; it is implausible that the allied elite opposed gaining the citizenship as too much benefit was entailed. The attitude of the masses is more difficult to ascertain. The allied soldiery is unlikely to have served in such a difficult war without some form of commitment to the allied side beyond monetary reward. In fact, the story of the Cretan on the Roman side disdaining the offer of citizenship emphasises the motivation of ideals rather than mercenary rewards for most allied soldiers.38 But are also other cases: Magius’ Hirpinian legion fights for Rome, and the troops of Marius and his opponent fraternise, implying more a shared than divided outlook. The Realist perspective recently pioneered by Eckstein is also useful here its emphasis on the unpredictability of war.39 Many wars are not predicted by their participants, and the Social War was clearly a surprise to Rome. The allies were more prepared than in the Hannibalic War, but war breaks out inopportunely for them through the massacre of Romans at Asculum and death of Drusus. Understanding the participants’ choices is extremely difficult in these circumstances. The allies may have envisaged withdrawal and armed negotiations rather than outright war.40 Poppaedius was trying to negotiate a political solution to the allied desire for citizenship before the outbreak of war, when staying at Drusus’ house. He must have known that they could not win a straight fight against Rome. Even after Asculum the allies sent an embassy to Rome, to see if a peaceful resolution was still possible. This raises the question of whether the allies had different long-term outcomes in mind, and were not planning to win a long attritional war against Roman forces. Alternatively, perhaps the allies rebelled as they expected support from all non-citizen communities in Italy, support which was not fully forthcoming. Thus the outcome may well be irrespective of the plans of either side. From a rational perspective the military chances of success for the allies might appear negligible. Why then revolt? This is worth questioning, but it is notable how often honour, shame, and religious probity come up in stories about Roman abuses in the

36 37 38 39 40

Schultz 2006, 207–227; Orlin 2010, 188–89. E. g. App. BCiv. 1.42 (Vidacilius in Apulia). Diod. Sic. 37.18; Bispham 2016, 83. Eckstein 2006, 186–190. Dart 2014, 127.

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second century, and the powerful role they play in ancient thinking.41 Allied decisions need to be understood on their own terms. The famous description in Velleius of the justification of the allied cause, echoed in Appian, may reflect allied grievances as expressed by sympathetic Roman patrons in Roman political settings.42 The importance of political equality to the allied elite is also evident in Appian’s account.43 The allies knew that Rome had been open to outsiders for much of its past, a fact advertised in mythical and historical stories about Rome’s past. These stories were widely shared amongst Italian communities, for instance the wolf and twins on the Etruscan mirror from Bolsena, the many representations of Hercules, and the Greek histories discussing the wandering founders of cities along the Tyrrhenian seaboard. All of this shared cultural heritage emphasised interconnections and Roman openness to outsiders, which must have stimulated allied ambition.44 Velleius’ text could directly reflect demands made to the Senate in late 91, if Kendall’s reconstruction of the allied embassy to Rome at this point is correct. It is worth emphasising the complexity on the Roman side too. The ‘Senate’ as a unified actor was as ever a generalisation in Roman politics. The allies must have been aware of fissures in Rome and perhaps thought a short-term conflict might work. The passing of the lex Julia, conceding citizenship even in a limited form, shows that some in the Roman Senate regarded the allied demands as justified. So the allies made the right calculation, but probably underestimated the desperate ends to which they would be forced. A catastrophic war was therefore unlikely to have been the intended outcome of either party. 4. Etruria and Umbria I now want to look more in more detail at the role of the Umbrians and Etruscans. Etruria and Umbria are an interesting case study, particularly in terms of why they did not join the revolt earlier. There are a range of issues as to why they became involved and why they were different from other allies. For instance, does the course of conflict 41 42

43 44

Cf. on similar considerations about imperial strategy, Mattern 1999, ch. 5. Vell. Pat. 2.15: Quorum ut fortuna atrox, ita causa fuit iustissima: petebant enim eam civitatem, cuius imperium armis tuebantur: per omnis annos atque omnia bella duplici numero se militum equitumque fungi neque in eius civitatis ius recipi, quae per eos in id ipsum pervenisset fastigium, per quod homines eiusdem et gentis et sanguinis ut externos alienosque fastidire posset The fortune of the Italians was as cruel as their cause was just; for they were seeking citizenship in the state whose power they were defending by their arms; every year and in every war they were furnishing a double number of men, both of cavalry and of infantry, and yet were not admitted to the rights of citizens in the state which, through their efforts, had reached so high a position that it could look down upon men of the same race and blood as foreigners and aliens. Cf. App. BCiv 1.39. Bispham 2016, 82. Flor. 2.17 with this argument; Dart 2014, 31.

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here reflect more intense links with the Roman aristocracy? Fronda notes the Roscii have relations of hospitium with the Metelli, Servilii and Scipiones which must date to before the Social War.45 Such links were likely to be widespread in Umbria. But there is no particular reason why Umbria should be unique in this. Many of the allied leadership, such as Poppaedius Silo and Vettius Scato, are attested as having links of hospitium with Roman nobles; the Latin-speaking Marsi will also have been closely linked to Rome through the via Valeria. Are the Umbrians and Etruscans restrained by various factors or is there a lack of enthusiasm for the citizenship? It would be odd if they had wholly different aims from the other rebels – why would they join the revolt at all in that case? In fact, the evidence quite clearly confirms that citizenship was an issue for them alongside landholding rights. The first we hear of them in relation to the crisis is that they are called to Rome by the consul to oppose Drusus. Appian says that they ‘had the same fears as the Italians’, which was ‘because they thought that the Roman public domain (which was still undivided and which they were cultivating, some by force and others clandestinely) would at once be taken away from them, and that in many cases they might even be disturbed in their private holdings’ (App. BCiv 1.36). Thus Appian does not say that they were opposed to Drusus’ enfranchisement schemes; and he implies that other Italians were equally concerned about the threat of his agrarian legislation.46 Late in the following year, 90 BC, Appian describes the inhabitants of Umbria, Etruria and other ‘neighbouring’ peoples on the other side of Rome as being moved to revolt (App. BCiv 1.49). This seems to imply the potential involvement of the Faliscans, Ligurians and perhaps also Cisalpine Gauls.47 The Senate in response took two actions, garrisoning the coast with freedmen due to the scarcity of recruits, and passing legislation to ensure that loyal allies would be enfranchised. Appian says that ‘this was welcomed in Etruria’, implying that citizenship was an issue for the Etruscans, although he does not specify the Umbrians too. Joining the rebellion is a curious decision for the (or better, some) Etruscans and Umbrians to take at this stage in the light of the course of the war. The initial assault by allied forces had failed to overcome Rome, and the allies were starting to suffer reverses. The terrible consequences of the war were becoming increasingly evident. This suggests that the draw of rebellion was strong for some Umbrians and Etruscans, and that they shared the main aims of the rebels. They perhaps also knew that considerable support would be forthcoming and that they would not be alone in joining

45 46 47

Fronda 2010, 317. Cf. Cappelletti 2004, 234. Appian BCiv 1.49: “While these events were transpiring on the Adriatic side of Italy, the inhabitants of Etruria and Umbria and other neighbouring peoples on the other side of Rome heard of them and all were roused to revolt.” Bispham 2016, 87, suggests that Appian may here mean the ‘culturally’ close Latins, which fits the severity of the situation, but strains the meaning of the text.

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the rebellion at this point. This also seems to have been a major point of crisis from a Roman perspective, given that the recruitment of ex-slaves was contrary to custom, especially at a point shortly after the Second Sicilian Slave War, and given that they were effectively conceding the main point of principle over which they had forced the war a year before. The surviving elements of the Livian tradition provide a different emphasis to Appian. Livy (Livy Epit. 74) records that the Umbrians and Etruscans did rebel, and that they were subdued by Aulus Plotius, a legatus, and Lucius Porcius Cato, a praetor (or pro-praetor). Florus and Orosius take a similar line, stressing the destruction and labour entailed by the rebellion.48 There are also a few towns mentioned by Sisenna in his history of the war, indicating they were involved in some way.49 Appian is of course a very summary account. It is dangerous to assume that Etruria and Umbria were not involved in the rebellion on the grounds that he does not clearly mention a revolt there. Similar methodological concerns apply to the other sources, in the Livian tradition, but their positive indications of rebellion and serious fighting should be taken seriously. Modern scholars have tended to place considerable weight on the absence of information about the Umbrian and Etruscan revolt in Appian, and have often speculated about which cities were involved, usually on the basis of those mentioned in Florus and Sisenna. For instance, Heurgon argued that the revolt concerned inland Etruria, an area of prosperous landowners, and Tiberine Umbria.50 These two districts, he believed, shared economic interests and social structures. Harris suggests there was a revolt, but that it only involved a few towns, probably Iguvium and Tuder, mentioned in the fragments of Sisenna.51 Sisani says there was little extent to the revolt, and it was confined to the subaltern classes with the elite opposing the extension of citizenship (see above on the class dimension to such decisions).52 Amann takes a more qualified position, suggesting that landholding was more decisive than citizenship, and that that the close links between the two peoples effectively conjoined them in their decision.53 Kendall and Dart have recently discussed the question in some detail.54 They take Orosius’ comment about very great cost in blood and difficult task of reducing the Etruscans and Umbrians as a sign of a tough but brief campaign, probably lasting from summer to autumn 90 BC. They point out that southern Umbria was vulnerable to Roman forces and was divided by formidable barriers from other allies; nevertheless, we do not know if the rebellion involved northern Umbrians on the far side of the Appennines, who would be readily accessible from Picenum. 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

Oros. 5.18.7; Flor. 2.6. Sisenna: 62, 78, 84 Cornell FRH. Heurgon 1964, 113–131. Harris 1971, 217. Sisani 2007, 62 f. Amann 2011, 172 f. Kendall 2013, 342–353; Dart 2014, 143–146.

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If the fighting was limited to just a few towns in the Tiber valley this would explain the pattern in the sources, with Appian equivocal and others identifying fighting clearly. But the evidence is easily readable as substantial, and in fact there is no reason to accept that only the towns mentioned by Sisenna were involved. The references to towns in Sisenna were cited by Nonius for their grammatical interest, and there may have been many more towns listed. Florus’ mention of the destruction of Ocriculum is plausible, and may have affected the recently discovered settlement alongside the Tiber as well as the fortified area under the modern town.55 Etruscan and Umbrian towns were bound together in the decision. There is plenty of historical precedent for this tradition of cooperation, such as in the Sentinum campaign, and in the joint frequentation of federal sanctuaries at the Villa Fidelia in Umbria and the Fanum Voltumnae in Etruria.56 This political collaboration is particularly striking in the light of the alleged Roman policy of divide and rule. Economic interests might be shared, but in fact there is little evidence to suggest that the Umbrians shared the supposedly peculiar social structure of Etruria (which is itself I think based on rather thin foundations, especially for this late date). There is still less reason to argue that they were disinterested in the citizenship. Landholding is probably important to them, but there is no evidence that it is the dominant issue, and holding the citizenship would go a long way towards enabling them to resist further Roman proposals to distribute any ager publicus they were occupying. A substantial if brief rebellion is likely therefore to have taken place in Etruria and Umbria. The full extent of their rebellion cannot be fully understood given the nature of our sources, but it may well have involved more than those cities that happen to be mentioned in the sources, and (if only potentially) the support of peoples outside these regions. But it is very unlikely that all Umbrians and all Etruscans were involved, despite the naming of these entire peoples by our sources. The conquest of both regions had left a patchwork of different status groups living alongside one another (undoubtedly another cause of allied stupefaction at the Roman Senate’s intransigence). Both regions were split between allies, Latins and Romans. In Umbria the spread of citizenship before the war is attested through the actions of Marius, who enfranchised two cohorts from allied Camerinum and individuals from allied Iguvium and Latin Spoletium.57 In fact, a similar pattern is already evident much earlier during the Roman conquest, where cities like Camerinum probably stood apart from the conflict because they already had a favourable treaty with Rome. Determining which Etruscan cities were involved in the Social War is particularly difficult. Fiesole is mentioned by Florus as a city destroyed, so presumably it had joined the insurgency. Volaterrae is another likely participant given its anti-Sullan stance. The Tiber valley towns close to 55 56 57

Bradley 2000, 218; Hay/Keay/Millet 2013, ch. 6 for recent archaeological investigations. Coarelli 2001, 737–747. Bradley 2000, 197.

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Umbria were identified as insurgents by Heurgon: Perusia would seem highly likely, and perhaps also Arretium and Cortona. Southern Etruscan towns like Caere and Tarquinia seem unlikely to have been involved, as Rome was very close by, and in the case of Caere, the inhabitants already had Roman citizenship. The example of the Hirpini in Samnium makes for an illuminating parallel.58 In the Second Punic War most of the Hirpini had supported Hannibal. One group, the Mopsii of Compsa, had not and were protected by the Romans.59 In the Social War the Magii from Aeclanum provide another example of internal splits. Their choice was probably influenced by the family’s tradition of pro-Roman service in the Hannibalic War. Minutius Magius raised a legion of Hirpini (so not just elite, but masses too) and assisted in Sulla’s sieges of Herculaneum and Pompeii, and the occupation of Compsa. In 89 Sulla attacked and burnt the wooden walls of Aeclanum, which had joined the socii, and both Compsa and Aeclanum were destroyed. Magius seems to have profited from the situation, with his two sons rising to the praetorship, and a Magius later becoming prefect of Egypt. Isayev has pointed out that these pro-Roman and anti-Roman opponents would be indistinguishable in archaeological record, and must have shared the same Hirpinian identity. Crucially we know about this complex situation only because Velleius had ancestors from here whose loyalty to Rome he celebrated. In fact, divisions similar to Aeclanum are also likely to have existed within many Umbrian and Etruscan towns. Our understanding of second century and Social War developments thus depends on sources who generally rationalise this complex situation in ethnic terms, a rationalisation often adopted in modern accounts. We are not dealing with all ‘Umbrians’ and ‘Etruscans’, but some of them; they should not be understood as unified ethnic actors, although ethnicity is a factor in their difficult choices. 5. Overall perspective There is no doubt that the ethnic identities of the Italian allies, developed over many centuries during the first millennium BC, were important in determining the shape and course of the Social War. Many allied communities acted in concert with others of the same ethnic groupings. Rebel military forces seem to have been organised in ethnic contingents, although there are also cases of leaders having different ethnicity from the troops they commanded.60 The historic links between Italian ethnic groups from the conquest and the Hannibalic War also played a significant role in the Social War. Some Etruscan and Umbrian cities collaborated together, as did the (or most) 58 59 60

Isayev 2013, 9–32. Livy 23.1.1–3. Dart 2014, 111–115.

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Marsi and other central Appennine peoples, and the (or most) Samnites and Lucanians (grouped together in Appian’s list). Clearly ethnicity was a useful mobilising tool in some circumstances, such as in the appeal to Safinim (probably Samnium) on some allied coin issues. But this should not be pushed too far, and the nature of the rebellion is not one purely of territorial blocks. We should not, for instance, see the revolt in terms of an Oscan and a Latin-speaking block, or an Umbro-Etruscan block, or in terms of ‘national groups’ against Rome.61 The allied choices were determined at a range of different levels: pan-regional (Italia/víteliú); regional or ethnic (‘The Samnites’); cities; and intra-community. Tension often existed between these priorities, such as at Pinna where a faction favoured remaining loyal to Rome despite the allegiance of other Vestini to the rebellion with their neighbours amongst the Marsi, Paeligni and Marrucini. Ethnic identities were not as decisive a factor in preferences that they might initially seem to be. The result is a fragmented patchwork, more like a series of mini-civil wars rather than a straightforward conflict between Rome and external allies. Strategy for the allies was thus very difficult. Hence the importance for them of creating rallying cries through various means, such as the designation of various successive capitals, the unifying concept of Italia, and the legends on coinage.62 Ironically, as is well known, these symbols of Italian unity drew much of their inspiration from Roman models. This includes the weight, denomination and many of the motifs on the coinage; the nature of the allied counter-Rome at Corfinium, if Diodorus is right in his description;63 the use of the Latin language on coinage and very likely in allied military and diplomatic communication; probably also the idea of the Italian allies as an identifiable confederation, stimulated by their participation in Roman wars such as against the Cimbri and Teutones in 104–100 BC. Romanisation thus facilitated rebellion against Rome. Inspiration also came from the allies’ own mythical and historic past. The allies, for instance, may have performed a Sacred Spring during the war, as this ritual is discussed by Sisenna in book four of his history of the war.64 The Sacred Spring was an origin myth for many of the allied participants in the war, and instituting another at this point must have emphasised the interconnections of the Samnites, Lucanians and other central Appennine peoples. It is also evident in the reference to the bull on allied coinage and on sling-shots, the totemic animal of the Samnites which they are said to have followed in a Sacred Spring.65 The reference to Bacchus on allied coinage may be

61 62 63 64 65

Salmon 1958, with the critique of Dench 1995, 212. Giardina 1994, 1–89, 57 n. 209; Carlà-Uhink 2017, 372–85. Dart 2009, 215–224 for doubts. Sisenna 99, 119 Cornell FRH; Dench 1995, 215; Pobjoy 2000, 209 n. 48. ILLRP 1100 (T)aurum vo(re)s malo Ta(m)en evomes omnem – Swallow the bull and go to hell! / But you’ll vomit up the lot (translation Warmington). Cf. ILLRP 1099.

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another reference to their mythical past, given that this was a deity whose worship was forbidden to allied (and Roman) communities by the Senate in 186 BC.66 The intention of such rallying points is presumably to act against the type of atomising and disuniting forces of self-interest and historical enmities that Fronda identifies as erupting in southern Italy in the Hannibalic War after Cannae. Fronda regards the situation as different in the Social War, when a further century of Roman hegemony after the defeat of Carthage at Zama has smoothed over the sharp contrasts between Italian allies. But I would argue that it is also helpful to start thinking of the Social War more in terms of a city by city and community by community approach. This certainly seems true of Etruria, Umbria, Apulia and Campania, and there is a case for seeing the Latins too in more individualised terms. When our sources talk of ‘the Picentes’ in the revolt they are essentially referring only to the community of the Asculani. It is less clearly attested in our sources for the Samnites and the peoples of the central Appennines such as the Marsi and Paeligni. But it is notable that in unusual cases where the sources shed some light on internal affairs, such as Aeclanum or Pinna, a similarly fraught and complex situation is revealed. This perhaps helps to explain one of the apparent paradoxes of the Social War: that loyalty to Rome and Romanization do not neatly align. Splits in individual communities make it clear that joining the rebellion is a complex decision with a variety of motives at work. 6. The Legacy of the Social War The legacy of the war has always been appreciated in studies of ancient Italy. But it is often lost in narratives of the late Republic, as the Social War is just one brief war amongst many, which transforms into the Sullan/Marian conflict, and is less well attested than the civil wars of the 40s or 30s BC. This has begun to be remedied in more recent work, giving this pivotal war its rightful place in the history of late Republican Italy and Rome.67 The legacy of the war is apparent in various ways. It created huge political and institutional issues which took a long time to address. These included the challenges of integrating the enormous numbers of new citizens within Roman political structures, creating a new military corps based on all Italy, and crafting new local government constitutions for the towns, now Roman municipia, of the ex-allies. It is also apparent in the need to reconstruct Roman citizenship, following principles which until now had been resisted by conservative elements in Senate. A political struggle erupted over the tribal assignations of ex-allies in 88 BC. The citizenship conceded in the war was lim-

66 67

Pobjoy 2000, 203; cf. also Dart 2014, 130 for the idea that Bacchus links to freedom. E. g. in Flower 2010; Steel 2013.

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ited, with legal rights but little voting relevance: the allies were initially to be enrolled in a very limited number of new tribes, probably eight or ten, who would vote after the existing tribes.68 This was addressed by the Marian forces in the civil wars of the 80s, probably in 87 BC, and the former allies were to be distributed amongst the existing 35 tribes. This rapid reversal was the product of the instability of Roman politics in this era.69 The practical incorporation of the ex-allies into the state was delayed by the repeated problems with the census, and it was not until the census of 70 BC that much of the full population of Italy was properly included. The next census would only be completed under Augustus in 28 BC. In the generation after the Social War relatively few new men from ex-allied areas made it into the Senate, but this process accelerated rapidly under Caesar from 49–44 BC and in the Triumviral period from 44–31 BC.70 The problematic legacy of the Social War for the relationship between Rome and Italy is also apparent in terms of culture and identity. This is clear from the shifting perspectives in our sources about how to understand the war, either as a conquest of a foreign enemy or as a civil war against other members of the same ‘nation’.71 Whilst the Social War was still winding down in 89 BC, Pompeius Strabo celebrated a triumph over the Picentes Asculani (de Asculaneis Picentibus), presenting his victory as one over a foreign enemy. Ventidius Bassus and Marius Aurius from Larinum in Samnium were among those captured in Asculum, and Bassus was displayed as a prisoner of war in that triumph. Bassus would go on to hold the praetorship and triumph on his own accord; Aurius was less fortunate, languishing in Picenum in the slave-prison of Quintus Sergius, a Roman Senator.72 The irony that members of the allies who aspired to citizenship were led in triumph and then went on to hold a triumph themselves was not lost on our sources. A similar ideological attitude is evident from the designation of the war in the first century BC by the names of the defeated peoples, the Bellum Marsicum, the war against the Marsi, or the Bellum Italicum, the war against the Italici.73 But this harsh line had been ‘forgotten’ and reversed by Augustus’ time. The later designation, Bellum Sociale, ‘the war against the allies’, found in sources from the first century AD, emphasises the prior status of the insurgents as supporters of Rome.74

68 69 70 71 72 73 74

App. BCiv 1.49; Vell. Pat. 2.20; Dart 2014, 185–87. Flower 2010 chapter 5 argues for a complete rupture between Republics in this era. Wiseman 1971; Farney 2007, chapter 5. As do Vell. Pat. 2.25.2 and Flor. 2.18; for this as reflecting contemporary views rather than a later imperial reinterpretation see Dench 2005, 129, and Bispham 2016, 83. Bassus: Val. Max. 6.6.9–10; Gell. NA 15.4; Cass. Dio 43.51; Juv. 7.199; Plin. HN 7.43. Aurius: Cic. Clu 23–24. Sources collected in Domaszewski, Bellum Marsicum, trans. L. Cappelletti 1993, 9–14. See also Ando 2002, 129; Santangelo 2017, 226. Flor. 2.18: “we call this a war against allies in order to lessen the odium of it”.

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A more conciliatory tone is evident in a Roman Republican coin illustrating the partnership of Roma and Italia.75 The reverse has the personification Roma, with her foot on the globe, clasping hands with Italia, who holds a cornucopia (a symbol of plenty) and a caduceus (a symbol of peace and reconciliation). The date is insecure, but it seems reasonable to link it to 70 BC, the first holding of the census that properly enumerated the new Italian citizens, and the consulship of Pompey. The obverse has Honos and Virtus, virtues which may relate to contemporary temple projects, or to an ancestor of the moneyer, but which are also relevant to the resolution of the Social War. Despite this positive tone, the need for reconciliation and the dominant position of Rome shows an awareness of the tension in this renewed partnership.76 By the age of Augustus, there is an evident concern to emphasis the support of tota Italia for the new regime. The earlier view of the war as a victory over a foreign enemy did not fit with this new agenda. Many men from former allied areas were promoted to positions of power by Augustus, such as Statilius Taurus, Agrippa, and Maecenas. Augustan poetry regularly reflected on notions of Italy and of local identity, which are particularly evident in the poetry of Propertius, Virgil, and Ovid. The latter refers to his Paelignian ancestry and its role in the Social War in Amores 3.14.8–10: Mantua takes joy in Virgil, Verona in Catullus; I shall be called the glory of the Paelignians, people whose love of freedom compelled to honourable arms (Paelignae dicar gloria gentis ego, quam sua libertas ad honesta coegerat arma) when anxious Rome was in fear of the allied bands.77

Amongst late Republican members of the Roman elite, newly acquired cognomina reflected allied myths and claims: the cognomina of Titus Statilius Taurus and Sextus Pacuvius Taurus echo the role of the bull in Social War imagery and in the Sacred Spring.78 Similarly, some families chose to use ‘historic names’ (as Syme termed them), indicating pride in their Social War ancestors amongst their descendants, such as Vettius Scato, Poppaedius Silo (legate c. 45 BC), Papius Mutilus (consul in AD 9), and Herius Asinius (son of Asinius Pollio, consul in 40 BC).79 This sort of positive reappraisal of the Social War is evident in writers of an Italic descent, such as Velleius Paterculus.80

75 76 77

78 79 80

Crawford RRC 1974, 403. Dench 2005, 188–89; Bispham 2016, 101. Another representation of Italia, although whether in the form of a personification or map is uncertain, occurs in the Temple of Tellus. This temple was founded in 268 BC, and restored by Cicero in 56–54 BC; Roth 2007, 287 n. 3. See E. Bispham 2007, 443. Cf. Ando 2002 on Horace’s unsympathetic portrayal of the Marsi, particularly in Odes 1.2 (“the fierce expression of the Marsian foot soldier as he glares at his bleeding foe” [Loeb translation]); however, the term Marsi is emended from Mauri here, incorrectly according to Sloan 2016, 41–58. Farney 2007, 221. Farney 2007, 222. Farney 2007, 223; a similar point might be ventured for Diodorus Siculus.

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7. Conclusion Recent revisionist readings of the war have usefully stimulated historical debate on the topic, and asked some important questions about the nature of our sources and the unidirectional explanation they provide of the allies’ rebellion. Many questions still remain to be resolved, given the multiplicity of actors and mentalities to recover. We should probably abandon the search for universalising explanations, and look to more local motivations – microhistories in place of metanarratives, to borrow modern historical terminology. The current trend of reading the evidence against grand narratives provides a more nuanced reading of the Social War, just as Fronda has done for the Hannibalic War. It is thus helpful to move beyond Romanisation and the unification of Italy as a unidirectional grand trend, not necessarily to abandon it, but to explore alternative perspectives, particularly Italian ones. We need a multiplicity of different approaches to the Social War and a fuller understanding of the local contexts in which it took place. Bibliography Amann 2011 = P. Amann, Die antiken Umbrer zwischen Tiber und Apennin unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Einflüsse aus Etrurien, Wien Ando 2002 = C. Ando, Vergil’s Italy: Ethnography and Politics in First-Century Rome, in: D. S. Levene / D. P. Nelis (Eds.), Clio and the Poets: Augustan Poetry and the Traditions of Ancient Historiography, Leiden, 123–42 Bispham 2007 = E. Bispham, From Asculum to Actium. The Municipalization of Italy from the Social War to Augustus, Oxford Bispham 2016 = E. Bispham, The Social War, in: A. E. Cooley (Ed.), A Companion to Roman Italy, Malden, 76–89 Bradley 2000 = G. J. Bradley, Ancient Umbria: State, Culture, and Identity in Central Italy from the Iron Age to the Social War, Oxford Bradley 2006 = G. J. Bradley, Colonization and Identity in Republican Italy, in: G. J. Bradley / J.P. Wilson (Eds.), Greek and Roman Colonization: Origins, Ideologies and Interactions, Swansea, 161–87 Bradley 2014 = G. J. Bradley, The Nature of Roman Strategy in Mid-Republican Colonization and Road Building, in: T. Stek / J. Pelgrom (Eds.), Roman Republican Colonization: New Perspectives from Archaeology and Ancient History, Papers of the Royal Netherlands Institute in Rome 62, Rome, 60–72 Brunt 1965 = P. A. Brunt, Italian Aims at the Time of the Social War, Journal of Roman Studies 55, 90–109 Brunt 1988 = P. A. Brunt, The Fall of the Roman Republic and Related Essays, Oxford Cappelletti 2004 = L. Cappelletti, Etruschi ed Umbri nella guerra sociale, in: H. Heftner / K. Tomaschitz (Hgg.), Ad Fontes. Festschrift für G. Dobesch, Wien, 229–36 Carlà-Uhink 2017 = F. Carlà-Uhink, The “Birth” of Italy. The Institutionalization of Italy as a Region (3rd-1st Century BCE), Berlin

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Coarelli 1988 = F. Coarelli, Colonizzazione romana e viabilità, in: Dialoghi di Archeologia III, 6, 35–48 Coarelli 2001 = F. Coarelli, Il rescritto di Spello e il santuario ‘etnico’ degli Umbri, in: Umbria cristiana. Dalla diffusione del culto al culto dei santi (secc. IV–X). Atti del XV Congresso internazionale di studi sull’alto medioevo, Spoleto 23–28 ottobre 2000, vol. I, Spoleto, 39–51 Cornell/Matthews (Eds.) 1982 = T. Cornell / J. F. Matthews (Eds.), Atlas of the Roman World, London Dart 2009 = C. J. Dart, The ‘Italian Constitution’ in the Social War: A Reassessment (91 to 88 BCE), in: Historia 58.2, 215–24 Dart 2014 = C. J. Dart, The Social War, 91 to 88 BCE. A History of the Italian Insurgency against the Roman Republic, Surrey-Burlington Dench 1995 = E. Dench, From Barbarians to New Men. Greek, Roman, and Modern Perceptions of Peoples from the Central Apennines, Oxford Dench 2005 = E. Dench, Romulus’ Asylum. Roman Identities from the Age of Alexander to the Age of Hadrian, Oxford Devoto 1951 = G. Devoto, Gli antichi Italici, 2nd Edn., Florence Eckstein 2006 = A. M. Eckstein, Mediterranean Anarchy, Interstate War, and the Rise of Rome, Berkeley Farney 2007 = G. D. Farney, Ethnic Identity and Aristocratic Competition in Republican Rome, Cambridge Flower 2010 = H. I. Flower, Roman Republics, Princeton Fronda 2010 = M. P. Fronda, Between Rome and Carthage: Southern Italy during the Second Punic War, Cambridge Galsterer 2006 = H. Galsterer, Rom und Italien vom Bundesgenossenkrieg bis zu Augustus, in: M. Jehne / R. Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), Herrschaft ohne Integration? Rom und Italien in republikanischer Zeit, Frankfurt am Main, 293–308 Giardina 1994 = A. Giardina, L’identià incompiuta dell’Italia romana, in: L’Italie d’Auguste à Dioclétien. Actes du colloque international de Rome (25–28 mars 1992), École Française de Rome, 1–89 Gruen 1974 = E. S. Gruen, The Last Generation of the Roman Republic, Berkeley Harris 1971 = W. V. Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria, Oxford Hay/Keay/Millet (Eds.) 2013 = S. Hay / S. Keay / M. Millet (Eds.), Ocriculum (Otricoli, Umbria): An Archaeological Survey of the Roman Town, Archaeological Monographs of the British School at Rome 22, London Heurgon 1964 = J. Heurgon, L’Ombrie à l’époque des Gracques et de Sylla, in: Problemi di storia e archeologia dell’Umbria. Atti del Convegno di Studi Umbri, Gubbio, 26–31 maggio 1963, Perugia, 113–31 Isayev 2013 = E. Isayev, Italian Perspectives from Hirpinia in the Period of Gracchan Land Reforms and the Social War, in: A. Gardner / E. Herring / K. Lomas (Eds.), Creating Ethnicities and Identities in the Roman World (Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies), London, 9–32 Kendall 2013 = S. Kendall, The Struggle for Roman Citizenship. Romans, Allies, and the Wars of 91–77 BCE, Piscataway, NJ Lanauro 2011 = A. Lanauro, Peasants and Slaves. The Rural Population of Roman Italy (200 BC to AD 100), Cambridge Lomas 2012 = K. Lomas, The Weakest Link: Elite Social Networks in Republican Italy, in: S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden, 197–214

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Mattern 1999 = S. P. Mattern, Rome and the Enemy. Imperial Strategy in the Principate, Berkeley, CA Mouritsen 1998 = H. Mouritsen, Italian Unification. A Study in Ancient and Modern Historiography, London Mouritsen 2006 = H. Mouritsen, Hindsight and Historiography: Writing the History of PreRoman Italy, in: M. Jehne / R. Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), Herrschaft ohne Integration? Rom und Italien in republikanischer Zeit, Frankfurt am Main, 23–38 Orlin 2010 = E. Orlin, Foreign Cults in Rome. Creating a Roman Empire, Oxford Patterson 2012 = J. R. Patterson, Contact, Co-operation, and Conflict in Pre-Social War Italy, in: S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden, 215–226 Pobjoy 2000 = M. Pobjoy, The First Italia, in: K. Lomas / E. Herring (Eds.), The Emergence of State Identities in Italy in the First Millennium BC, London, 187–211 Roth 2007 = R. Roth, Varrò’s pieta Italia (RR I. ii. 1) and the Odology of Roman Italy, in: Hermes 135(3), 286–300 Salman 1967 = E. T. Salmon, Samnium and the Samnites, Cambridge Salmon 1958 = E. T. Salmon, Notes on the Social War, in: Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 89, 159–84 Santangelo 2017 = F. Santangelo, The Social War, in: G. D. Farney / G. J. Bradley (Eds.), The Peoples of Ancient Italy, Berlin-New York, 231–54 Scheidel 2006 = W. Scheidel, The Demography of Roman State Formation in Italy, in: M. Jehne / R. Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), Herrschaft ohne Integration? Rom und Italien in Republikanischer Zeit, Frankfurt am Main, 207–26 Schultz 2006 = C. Schultz, Juno Sospita and Roman Insecurity in the Social War, in: C. Schultz / P. Harvey (Eds.), Religion in Republican Italy, Cambridge, 207–27 Sisani 2007 = S. Sisani, Fenomenologia della conquista. La romanizzazione dell’Umbria tra il IV sec. a. C. e la guerra sociale, Rome Sloan 2016 = M. C. Sloan, Mauri versus Marsi in Horace’s Odes 1.2.39, in: Illinois Classical Studies, 41(1), 41–58 Steel 2013 = C. Steel, The End of the Roman Republic 146 to 44 BC: Conquest and Crisis, Edinburgh Wilson 2011 = A. I. Wilson, Developments in Mediterranean Shipping and Maritime Trade from the Hellenistic Period to AD 1000, in: D. Robinson / A. I. Wilson (Eds.), Maritime Archaeology and Ancient Trade in the Mediterranean, Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology, Oxford, 33–59 Wiseman 1971 = T. P. Wiseman, New Men in the Roman Senate 139 B. C.-A. D. 14, Oxford

Die ‚politische‘ Integration der italischen Neubürger in den römischen Legionen vom Bundesgenossenkrieg bis zur Triumviratszeit Wolfgang Blösel (Duisburg-Essen) Die Einbürgerung der Italiker in die römische res publica nach dem Ende des Bundesgenossenkriegs im Jahr 881 spielt in den meisten Geschichtsdarstellungen der Republik nur eine Rolle für den Bürgerkrieg zwischen den Marianern und Sulla in den 80er Jahren: Damals beherrschte die Frage, auf wie viele der 35 römischen Tribus die Neubürger aufgeteilt werden sollten, die römische Politik.2 Der Volkstribun Sulpicius Rufus rief schon 88 mit seinem Vorschlag, sie auf alle Tribus zu verteilen, heftigen Widerstand der konservativen Senatoren hervor, die fürchteten, in diesem Fall die Kontrolle über die Volksversammlung zu verlieren, und deshalb offenbar für eine Verteilung auf höchstens acht Tribus plädierten, denen die Neubürger bei jeder Abstimmung jeweils erneut zugelost werden sollten. Man kann davon ausgehen, daß die Zahl der Neubürger aus Etrurien, Umbrien, Picenum, Samnium, Apulien, Lukanien und Bruttium die Zahl der Altbürger weit überstieg und vermutlich bis zum Doppelten reichte. Die Neubürger hätten also in jedem Fall bei gleichmäßiger Verteilung auf alle Tribus die Altbürger weit majorisiert. Den Popularen um Marius und Cinna hätte ein solcher Umsturz der Kräfteverhältnisse in den Tributkomitien einen erheblichen Machtgewinn gebracht. Nachdem Cinna von seinem Konsulatskollegen von 87, Octavius, aus Rom vertrieben worden war, konnte er gar die Neubürger aus Tibur, Praeneste und den anderen Städten bis ins kampanische Nola hinab als Soldaten rekrutieren, um mit ihnen seine verlorene Amtsstellung wiederzuerlangen.3 Auch Marius vermochte nach seiner Rückkehr aus

1 2 3

Alle Jahresangaben verstehen sich v. Chr. Vgl. die Überblicke bei Coşkun 2010, 37–59 und bei Elster 2014, 198–208 mit den entsprechenden Quellen 214–222. App. BCiv. 1,65,294.

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dem kurzzeitigen afrikanischen Exil viele Neubürger in Mittelitalien zu mobilisieren.4 Die Marianer nutzten damals wie auch später deren Angst aus, daß Sulla ihnen das Bürgerrecht wieder nehmen oder zumindest ihre Verteilung auf alle 35 römischen Tribus blockieren würde.5 Endlich setzte 84 Cinna diese Forderung der Neubürger in die Tat um.6 So heftig der Widerstand der römischen Senatoren dagegen war, so bemerkenswert ist es dann wiederum, daß der Diktator Sulla, nachdem er seine politischen Gegner in den Proskriptionen 82 und 81 hatte beseitigen lassen, die gleichmäßige Verteilung der Neubürger nicht wieder rückgängig gemacht hat.7 In jedem Fall scheint Ende der 80er Jahre die Frage der Verteilung der Neubürger auf die Stimmkörper in Rom nicht mehr Gegenstand politischer Kontroversen gewesen zu sein. Bemerkungen von Cicero wie auch Appian mögen eine Erklärung dafür liefern; denn aus ihnen läßt sich schließen, daß die Neubürger in den folgenden Jahrzehnten weder auf die Gesetzesabstimmungen noch bei den Wahlen in Rom irgendeinen größeren Einfluß nahmen.8 Wie ist das zu erklären? Die Bürgerzahl, die uns für den Zensus von 86/5 überliefert ist, 463 000, und sogar die vom Zensus des Jahres 70, nämlich 910 000, lassen insgesamt vermuten, daß keineswegs sämtliche Neubürger vollständig in die Bürgerlisten eingetragen worden sind.9 Dies wird nur bei denjenigen Italikern geschehen sein, die großes Interesse daran hatten und deshalb dafür eigens nach Rom gereist waren. Gerade die bis zuletzt rebellischen Marser, Päligner und Samniten wurden keineswegs gleichmäßig auf viele Tribus verteilt, sondern auf zumeist nur eine Tribus (Sergia bzw. Voltinia) konzentriert und deshalb ohnehin in ihrem individuellen Stimmgewicht benachteiligt.10 Zudem hätten die verschiedenen italischen Städte ja erst einmal eine Verfassung als municipium erhalten und sich danach konstituieren müssen; die lex Iulia de sociis civitate danda von 89 hatte für die Munizipalisierung kaum Verfügungen getroffen.11 Außerdem haben die nicht nach Städten, sondern nach Ethnien eingebürgerten Italiker wie die Marser und die Päligner kaum die nötigen Voraussetzungen für eine schnelle Konstituierung von Munizipien und damit eine Eintragung der Neubürger in Listen geboten.

4 5 6 7

8 9 10 11

App. BCiv. 1,67,306. Für die Etrusker bezeugt dies Exsuper. 47. Liv. Per. 84. Liv. Per. 86,3: Sylla cum Italicis populis, ne timeretur ab his velut erepturus civitatem et suffragii ius nuper datum, foedus percussit. Zudem Cic. Caecin. 97; Cic. Dom. 79; Sall. Hist. 1,55,12; 1,77,14 Maurenbrecher. Dazu vgl. Dahlheim 1993; Santangelo 2007, 76 f.; Coşkun 2010, 51 und Elster 2014, 207 f., die aber immerhin auf Sullas lex Cornelia de civitate Volaterranis adimenda von 81 (ebd. 220–222) verweist, die aber keinen Bestand gehabt habe. App. BCiv. 1,49,215. Cic. Sest. 109: Omitto eas quae feruntur ita vix ut quini, et ii ex aliena tribu, qui suffragium ferant reperiantur. Vgl. Luraschi 1996, 64–75; Wulff Alonso 2002, 113 u. ö.; Bispham 2007, 179 und ausführlich Muñiz Coello 2008, bes. 271. Vgl. Brunt 1971, 9 f. mit den Quellenangaben für die Zensuszahlen sowie Coşkun 2010, 50–52. Taylor 1960, 111–115; ebenso Sherwin-White 1973, 156 f. und Bispham 2007, 196–199. Bispham 2007, 189 f.

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Das wird schwerlich in sämtlichen Städten Italiens rasch erfolgt sein, zumal es für alle Italiker ja die Aufgabe der eigenen politischen Identität bedeutete. Denn m. E. ist der Wertung von Mouritsen zu folgen, daß die Ausdehnung des römischen Bürgerrechts auf ganz Italien bis zur Arno-Rubicon-Linie de facto nichts anderes darstellte als die Annexion aller zuvor bundesgenössischen Gebiete durch Rom.12 Angesichts der langsamen Erfassung der Neubürger in den einzelnen Munizipien verwundert die geringe Bürgerzahl also nicht. Doch selbst für die tatsächlich in die Listen eingeschriebenen Neubürger bedeutete die Berechtigung, an den Abstimmungen in Rom teilzunehmen, keineswegs, daß sie es auch tatsächlich taten. Für die meisten Neubürger mag die Genugtuung, ihr Stimmrecht tatsächlich wahrzunehmen, die Mühen des oft weiten Weges in die Metropole kaum aufgewogen haben. Allein dies mag schon ihre offenbar verschwindend geringe Beteiligung an den Abstimmungen dort erklären. Mouritsen13 betont überdies mit Recht, daß die Verteilung der Neubürger auf die 31 Landtribus weit weniger für die Neubürger als vielmehr für die römischen Politiker von Interesse war, die jene bei Wahl- oder Abstimmungskampagnen einsetzten. In den 80er Jahren war die große Zahl von Italikern, die schon länger in Rom lebten und jüngst das Bürgerrecht erhalten hatten, zweifellos eine wichtige Ressource für die Popularen um Sulpicius und Cinna in ihren politischen Kämpfen. Nachdem aber im Jahr 84 die Verteilung der Italiker auf sämtliche Landtribus erfolgt war14 und Sulla seit 82 jegliche populare Agitation für mehr als ein Jahrzehnt unmöglich gemacht hatte, verlor dieses Problem rasch seine Sprengkraft. Immerhin schärfte die lex Papia de peregrinis von 65 nochmals die Rechtsgrundlage, auf der Bewohner Roms ohne Bürgerstatus aus der Stadt verwiesen werden konnten.15 Allerdings belegt Cassius Dio explizit, daß die Bewohner Italiens von dieser Strafe ausgenommen waren.16 Zur Härte der Kämpfe um die ‚politische‘ Eingliederung der Neubürger in den frühen 80er Jahren steht also ihre Bedeutungslosigkeit für die politischen Entscheidungssituationen im Rom der folgenden Jahrzehnte im scharfen Kontrast. Deshalb verschwindet die Neubürgerfrage nach kurzer Prominenz auch wieder aus den modernen Geschichtsdarstellungen. Welches Potential das Bürgerrecht allerdings den über

12 13 14 15 16

Mouritsen 1998, 167. Mouritsen 1998, 169–171. So schon de Martino 1973, 57. Die aufgrund der widersprüchlichen Quellen unterschiedlichen Ansätze der Verfahrensschritte dafür beschreiben ausführlich Coşkun 2004, 121–130 und Bispham 2007, 189–199 jeweils mit früherer Literatur. Cic. Arch. 10; Balb. 52; Att. 4,18,4; Off. 3,47. Vgl. Balsdon 1979, 100 f. und Coşkun 2010, 54–59. Cass. Dio 37,9,5: κἀν τούτῳ πάντες οἱ ἐν τῇ Ῥώμῃ διατρίβοντες, πλὴν τῶν τὴν νῦν Ἰταλίαν οἰκούντων, ἐξέπεσον Γαΐου τινὸς Παπίου δημάρχου γνώμῃ, ἐπειδὴ ἐπεπόλαζον καὶ οὐκ ἐδόκουν ἐπιτήδειοί σφισιν εἶναι συνοικεῖν. Die auffällige Ausnahme der „Bewohner des heutigen (!) Italiens“ weist auf die explizite Integration der Gallia cisalpina in Gänze hin. So Ward 1972, 245 f., der den Volkstribun C. Papius als Agenten von Caesar und M. Licinius Crassus, der als Zensor des Jahres 65 offenbar die Transpadaner in die Tribuslisten einschreiben wollte (Cass. Dio 37,9,3; s. u. Anm. 42), sieht.

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ganz Italien verstreut lebenden Neubürgern verschaffte, wurde erst allmählich in den folgenden Jahrzehnten, insbesondere in den Bürgerkriegen der 40er und 30er Jahre, deutlich. Bleicken verweist in seiner Erklärung des anscheinenden Bedeutungsverlustes der Neubürger für die römische Politik auf die Rolle der Armee. Er sieht die Neubürger als Reservoir, mit dem „die Potentaten unter den nobiles … die tatsächlichen oder von ihnen nur vorgegebenen Reichsaufgaben zu lösen suchten“. Im unmittelbaren Anschluß fährt er fort: „Wenn die Neubürger auf der politischen Ebene unterrepräsentiert waren, so waren sie in der Armee der ausgehenden Republik ohne Zweifel überrepräsentiert. Es war wohl vor allem die Anziehungskraft des Heeres, die das Problem der Einordnung der Neubürger in die res publica nicht virulent werden ließ: Die gewaltigen militärischen Anstrengungen dieser Jahrzehnte, die letztlich auf die Militarisierung der Politik zurückgingen, absorbierten die politische Dynamik eines nicht geringen Teiles der Neubürger und brachten das Problem ihrer politischen Integration nicht zum Tragen.“17

Nach Bleickens Auffassung habe das römische Heer mithin die Neubürger als politisch relevante Gruppe aufgenommen und unsichtbar gemacht.18 Im folgenden möchte ich den Nachweis antreten, daß gerade das Gegenteil von Bleickens Behauptung der Fall ist, nämlich daß die Neubürger im Heer als Bürger integriert wurden und daß ihre fehlende Verwurzelung in der altüberkommenen Hierarchie der römischen Gesellschaft gerade den überragenden Feldherren, allen voran Caesar, die Möglichkeit eröffnete, sie im Kampf gegen die alte Oligarchie politisch, mithin als Bürger, zu instrumentalisieren. Die Ausgangsbedingungen für einen solchen Nachweis sind jedoch denkbar ungünstig: Denn es würden dazu Selbstzeugnisse der Neubürger im römischen Heer über ihre politische Einstellung benötigt, die uns nicht vorliegen. Die Fehlstellen sind leider noch deutlich größer: Über die ethnische Zusammensetzung der meisten römischen Heere wissen wir nur rudimentär Bescheid. Brunt hat die Rekrutierungen der Jahre 90 bis 41 nach Aushebungsgebieten in Italien aufgeschlüsselt.19 In seiner Aufstellung fällt auf, daß wir nur für die Waffengänge gut unterrichtet sind, die innerhalb Italiens stattfanden, d. h. die Bürgerkriege der 80er Jahre, für die Mobilmachungen gegen die Catilinarische Verschwörung im Jahr 63/2, für den Bürgerkrieg zwischen Caesar und den Republikanern in den Jahren 50/49 sowie die Jahre 44 und 43. Am stärksten wurden die Wehrfähigen aus den mittelitalischen Landschaften Etrurien, Picenum, Latium sowie Kampanien herangezogen. Diese Beobachtung deckt 17 18 19

Bleicken 1998, 116. Ähnlich auch Kent 2017, 266. Brunt 1988, 276 f.: Appendix I: Areas of Recruitment for the Republican Army. Vgl. zudem Harmand 1967, 245–258 und Gruen 1995, 368 Anm. 32.

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sich weitgehend mit den Ergebnissen von Suolahti zu den Herkunftsorten der Militärtribunen und Präfekten im 1. Jahrhundert v. Chr. 20 Die Randgebiete Italiens, Samnium, Apulien21 und Lukanien und Bruttium, spielten offenbar keine große Rolle als Soldatenreservoir. Allein die Cisalpina bildet eine Ausnahme von der Konzentration auf Mittelitalien, was aber maßgeblich der verstärkten Aktivität Caesars dort geschuldet ist. Doch da die lokale Herkunft der Soldaten, die wir nur höchst grob abschätzen können, nichts über deren politisches Selbstbewußtsein sagt, müssen hier allgemeinere Überlegungen über die grundsätzliche Situation der Neubürger im Heer weiterhelfen. Auch wenn bereits während des gesamten 2. Jahrhunderts der Mindestzensus für den Eintritt in die Armee immer weiter abgesenkt wurde, so scheint es doch erst Marius gewesen zu sein, der in großer Anzahl Bürger ohne nennenswerten Besitz, die sog. capite censi, ausgehoben hat.22 Dabei hat er offenbar vor allem Freiwillige herangezogen, was natürlich diejenigen, die nur gezwungenermaßen zu den Fahnen gingen, deutlich entlastete. Wenn der aushebende Imperiumsträger also in erheblichem Umfang Freiwillige rekrutierte, so wurde aus der aus dem Bürgerrecht resultierenden Wehrpflicht mit einem Male eine Chance für diejenigen Alt- wie Neubürger, die in prekären wirtschaftlichen Verhältnissen standen, auf ein geregeltes Einkommen in Form von Sold, der seit dem 2. Jahrhundert 75 Denare im Jahr betrug, bis ihn Caesar verdoppelte.23 Allerdings ist keineswegs davon auszugehen, daß sich die spätrepublikanischen Heere zum größten Teil aus Besitzlosen zusammengesetzt hätten; denn die zwangsweise Aushebung römischer Bürger im dilectus, zu dem grundsätzlich alle Wehrpflichtigen eines Bezirkes erscheinen mußten, bestand, wie Brunt gezeigt hat, bis in die Kaiserzeit fort.24 Für die in der Forschung noch verbreitete Annahme einer ‚Proletarisierung der Armee‘ nach Marius fehlen jedenfalls klare Belege.25 Aushebungen für das römische Heer fanden seit dem 2. Jahrhundert – bis auf Notmaßnahmen26 – kaum noch in Rom selbst statt, rekrutiert wurden allein die Bewohner 20 21 22

23 24

25 26

Suolahti 1955, 154–169; 279–287 und die ausführlichen Karten am Ende seines Buches. Immerhin bezeugt die Grabinschrift ILLRP 502 einen N. Granonius aus dem apulischen Luceria als centurio der 18. Legion des L. Cornelius Spinther sowie der 2. Legion des Pompeius; vgl. Bispham 2007, 272 f.; 477. Vgl. de Ligt 2007. Die dort skizzierten heftigen Forschungsdiskussionen über die möglichen Hintergründe für die Absenkung des Mindestzensus und die Historizität eines in den antiken Quellen behaupteten Mangels an aushebungsfähigen Soldaten können hier beiseite bleiben. Vgl. auch den Überblick bei Walter 2017, 147–149. Vgl. Smith 1958, 46 f. und Nicolet 1980, 132. Dies betont nachdrücklich für die Italiker Alston 2002, 23 f. Brunt 1987, 408–415; 635–638 und 1990. Brunt 1987, 413–415; 713 hat allerdings die Unwilligkeit der Eingezogenen und die geringe Attraktivität des Heeresdienstes überbetont, was er dann selbst im Postskript (724 f.) angesichts der von Harris 1979, 102–104 aufgezeigten Gewinnmöglichkeiten einräumt. Morstein-Marx/Rosenstein 2006, 632 mit Verweis auf lo Cascio 2001, 125 f. sowie de Ligt 2007. Die durch einen tumultus in der Stadt Rom ausgehobenen Truppen erwiesen sich als besonders widerspenstig und wenig bereit, den Anweisungen ihrer Befehlshaber zu folgen, und wurden zumeist rasch wieder aufgelöst. Vgl. Chrissanthos 2004, 349 f. mit Belegen.

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der ländlichen Tribus.27 Deshalb finden sich auch für die ruhigeren Zeiten zwischen den Bürgerkriegen der 80er und der 40er Jahre des 1. Jahrhunderts Klagen über die Entblößung Italiens infolge der Rekrutierungen.28 Die Aushebungen wurden allemal im 1. Jahrhundert v. Chr. in der großen Mehrzahl der Fälle dezentral in der jeweiligen zur Rekrutierung bestimmten Region vorgenommen, und zwar vermutlich von den Militärtribunen und Legaten des jeweiligen Imperiumsträgers, die in den Quellen zuweilen als conquisitores bezeichnet werden.29 Seit Sullanischer Zeit durften sogar Promagistrate in den jeweiligen Regionen Italiens in eigenem Namen die ihnen vom Senat zugebilligten Truppen ausheben, was zuvor das alleinige Vorrecht der Konsuln oder Diktatoren gewesen zu sein scheint.30 Dies ist prominent bei den beiden außerordentlichen Imperien des Pompeius gegen die Piraten und zu Beginn des Bürgerkrieges 49, für die er jeweils den Auftrag zur Truppenaushebung erhielt, ohne unmittelbar zuvor ein Oberamt innegehabt zu haben.31 Wie sehr die Aushebung auch als Akt der Identifikation mit dem militärischen Ziel, für das die Soldaten ausgehoben wurden, gesehen wurde, erweist der Umstand, daß Anfang des Jahres 49 die republikanischen Gegner Caesars im Bürgerkrieg sogar Senatoren in ganz Picenum herumschickten, um Soldaten für ihre Sache zu rekrutieren – allerdings völlig vergeblich.32 Für den Neubürger war die Aushebung durch einen römischen Imperiumsträger – und nicht mehr wie früher durch einen Beamten seiner italischen Heimatgemeinde – auch sichtbares Zeichen der Gleichberechtigung. Denn anders als noch seine Vorfahren, die als socii gegenüber den Römern in vielerlei Hinsicht benachteiligt gewesen waren, nahm der Neubürger im römischen Heer fortan denselben Status ein, erhielt den gleichen Beuteanteil und hatte dieselben Aufstiegschancen wie die Altbürger.33 Die Möglichkeit für einfache Legionäre zum Aufstieg in der militärischen Hierarchie war erst Ende des 2. Jahrhunderts durch die Marianischen Reformen eröffnet worden. Seitdem konnte nun ein Legionär auf der Basis von klaren Leistungskriterien über den Rang des Zenturios gar bis in den Ritterstand aufsteigen. Denn die von Marius betriebene Umstellung von der Manipel- zur Kohortentaktik hatte für alle Legionäre die 27 28

29 30 31 32 33

Vgl. Brunt 1987, 95 f.; 108; 386 f.; 414; 1988, 253–255. So aus der Rede des popularen Volkstribunen von 73, C. Licinius Macer, bei Sall. Hist. 3,48,17 Maurenbrecher: agrestes … caeduntur inter potentium inimicitias donoque dantur in provincias magistratibus Vgl. Harmand 1967, 253. Zudem wirft Cicero Piso vor, für sein Provinzkommando in Macedonia von 58 bis 55 orbabas Italiam iuventute (Cic. Pis. 57). Zu den Details des Aushebungsverfahrens Kunkel 1995, 330–337 mit Quellen und Brunt 1987, 631–634, der vor allem die Dezentralität der Aushebungen betont, sowie Nicolet 1980, 96–102 und Jehne 2006, 250 f. m. Anm. 29. So Kunkel 1995, 332. Plut. Pomp. 25; Cass. Dio 36,37,2 – App. BCiv. 2,31,121 f.; Cass. Dio 40,64,4; 66,2 f.; Plut. Pomp. 59,1. Caes. BCiv. 1,12,3–13,1. Sherwin-White 1973, 143. Zur früheren Benachteiligung der socii vgl. Jehne 2006, 244 f. und Kent 2017, 265 mit Beispielen.

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gleiche Bewaffnung und das gleiche Training zur Folge. So hatte sich die zuvor sozial und technisch in hastati, principes und triarii dreigestufte Legion zu einem homogenen Truppenkörper gewandelt. Mithin bildete die Hierarchie im spätrepublikanischen Heer nicht mehr die Schichtung der römischen Gesellschaft ab.34 Die römische Legion wurde im Laufe des 1. Jahrhundert zu einer ‚totalen Organisation‘: Denn in ihr verblieben die Legionäre oft ihre prägenden Jahre, d. h. vom dritten bis zum Beginn des fünften Lebensjahrzehnts, abgeschottet von der übrigen Bevölkerung. Sie verinnerlichten die rein militärischen Leistungskriterien, die in Ehrungen und Auszeichnungen einen im wahren Sinne ‚absoluten‘ Ausdruck erfuhren. Die Professionalisierung schritt auf der unteren und mittleren Ebene der Legion von den einfachen Zenturionen bis hin zum primipilus stetig weiter fort.35 Insbesondere Caesar glückte es, in seinem neunjährigen Krieg in Gallien seine zeitweise zwölf Legionen zu einer Armee von hoher Homogenität und Professionalität zu formen. Auch wenn die genaue Zusammensetzung von Caesars Heer im Dunkeln bleibt, so bezeugen die Aushebungen für die Jahre 58/7, 54 bis 52 und 50, daß die überwiegende Zahl seiner Legionäre aus der Gallia cispadana, d. h. südlich des Po, stammte36 – man denke nur an die großen Bürgerkolonien in Parma, Mutina, Dertona, Bononia, Faventia, Luna, Luca und Faesulae.37 In seinen Schriften nennt Caesar die Gallia cisalpina als Teil von Italia, obgleich diese administrative Angliederung erst im Jahr 42 vollzogen wurde.38 Gerade die große Anhänglichkeit der Bewohner der Cisalpina erklärt sich aus Caesars nachdrücklichem Bemühen schon seit den frühen 60er Jahren darum, sämtlichen Provinzbewohnern das römische Bürgerrecht zu verschaffen.39 Dabei mag er diese Region als Reservoir sowohl für Wählerstimmen als auch für Aushebungen angesehen haben.40 Der Status derjenigen Transpadaner, die für sich das römische Bürgerrecht beanspruchten – dieses mögen sie sich aufgrund des durch die lex Pompeia von 89 verliehenen latinischen Rechtes41 durch die Ausübung lokaler Ämter erworben haben –, stand bei den Zenso-

34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

Konträre Auffassung bei Dahlheim 1992, 201. Vgl. ausführlich MacMullen 1984; Flaig 1992, 132–152 und de Blois 2000, 11–16. Caes. BGall. 1,7; 1,24,3; 2,2; 5,24; 6,1; 7,1; BCiv. 1,18; 3,87,4; Cass. Dio 40,60,1. – Doch auch aus dem kampanischen Capua ist durch die Grabinschrift CIL X 3886 ein Brüderpaar namens Canuleius aus Caesars 7. Legion bezeugt; von dem jüngeren Bruder heißt es explizit, er sei in Gallien gefallen. Konkret belegt dies die Grabinschrift CIL XI 1058 = ILS 2242 eines P. Vettidius aus Parma, der in Caesars 12. Legion in Gallien gedient hat. Zu den inschriftlichen Zeugnissen für spätrepublikanische Legionäre vgl. Keppie 1977/2000. Caes. BGall. 6,1,2–3. Vgl. Williams 2001, 124 m. Anm. 71 mit weiteren Belegen. Suet. Iul. 8: colonias Latinas de petenda civitate agitantes adiit. Zur Bedeutung der Cisalpina Cic. Att. 1,1,2 (vom Juli 65): videtur in suffragiis multum posse Gallia Ascon. p. 3 Clark; Plin. HN 3,138. Zur lex Pompeia vgl. Sherwin-White 1973, 157–159; Bispham 2007, 173–175; Coşkun 2008, 196 f.; Elster 2014, 203 f.; 218; Carlà-Uhink 2017, 48–55.

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ren des Jahres 65 in scharfer Diskussion.42 Wahrscheinlich hat Caesar sogar Transpadaner, die nur latinisches Recht besaßen, ins Heer aufgenommen. Aber auch unter den Cispadanern, die südlich des Po wohnten, werden keineswegs alle von Caesar Rekrutierten schon römische Bürger gewesen sein.43 Offenbar war das mit dem Heeresdienst verknüpfte römische Bürgerrecht so attraktiv, daß sich viele Wehrfähige aus der Cisalpina von Caesar ausheben ließen, obgleich Pompeius von seinem Vater Pompeius Strabo her wegen dessen lex Pompeia de Transpadanis gegenüber zahlreichen Bewohnern der Cisalpina als patronus fungierte.44 Eine Illustration für den Wechsel von Pompeius zu Caesar zumindest im Fall der Transalpina bieten die vocontischen Vorfahren des augusteischen Geschichtsschreibers Pompeius Trogus: Sein Großvater hatte im Krieg gegen Sertorius von Pompeius Strabo das Bürgerrecht erhalten, sein Vaterbruder im Mithridatischen Krieg unter Pompeius gedient, sein Vater schließlich bekleidete in Caesars Kanzlei eine hohe Vertrauensstellung, da ihm die Aufsicht über dessen Schriftverkehr oblag.45 Caesar ist auch erster Kandidat dafür, die Städte der Transpadaner im Jahr 51 dazu angestiftet zu haben, sich jeweils als römisches municipium zu konstituieren, indem sie quattuorviri wählen.46 Auch wenn das Ausmaß von Caesars Einsatz für die Rechte der Bewohner der Cisalpina, insbesondere der Transpadaner, nicht mehr im Detail zu ermessen ist,47 so bildete das von ihm verliehene römische Bürgerrecht offenbar einen zentralen Streitpunkt mit seinen innenpolitischen Gegnern. Einer der schärfsten unter ihnen, der Konsul von 51, M. Claudius Marcellus, ließ einen Ratsherrn der Kolonie Novum Comum (heute Como), die Caesar 59 gegründet hatte, wegen einer Lappalie auspeitschen, um so zu demonstrieren, daß er Caesars Bürgerrechtsverleihung nicht einmal bei diesem Angehörigen der lokalen Honoratiorenschicht anerkannte.48 Welche Motivationskraft Caesar dem römischen Bürgerrecht grundsätzlich zumaß, ist an der legio Alaudae abzulesen, die er im Jahr 52 auf eigenen Kosten allein aus 42 43 44 45

46 47

48

Cass. Dio 37,9,3: ταῦτά τε ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ ἔτει συνέβη, καὶ οἱ τιμηταὶ περὶ τῶν ὑπὲρ τὸν Ἠριδανὸν οἰκούντων διενεχθέντες (τῷ μὲν γὰρ ἐς τὴν πολιτείαν αὐτοὺς ἐσάγειν ἐδόκει, τῷ δὲ οὔ) οὐδὲν οὐδὲ τῶν ἄλλων ἔπραξαν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν ἀρχὴν ἀπεῖπον. Vgl. Coşkun 2009, 123. Sherwin-White 1973, 158 f.; Elster 2014, 204. So nachdrücklich Dingmann 2007, 336 f. Zu Pompeius’ Klientel in der Cisalpina ausführlich Amela Valverde 2002, 53–57 und Dingmann 2007, 239–246. Pomp. Trog. apud Iustin. 43,5,11 f.: In postremo libro Trogus: maiores suos a Vocontiis originem ducere; avum suum Trogum Pompeium Sertoriano bello civitatem a Cn Pompeio percepisse, patruum Mithridatico bello turmas equitum sub eodem Pompeio duxisse; patrem quoque sub C Caesare militasse epistularumque et legationum, simul et anuli curam habuisse Vgl. Malitz 1987, 53–55 und Williams 2001, 116. Cic. Att. 5,2,3 (vom Mai 51): erat rumor de Transpadanis, eos iussos IIII viros creare Vgl. zu Caesars Bürgerrechtpolitik in der Cisalpina Ewins 1955, 83–95; Ferenczy 1983; Luraschi 1996, 84–89; Williams 2001, 121–123; González Román 2010, 51 und Coşkun 2010, 52 f. jeweils mit weiterer Literatur. Jüngst zur Schaffung eines neuen Rekrutierungsreservoirs als Caesars Motiv für sein Engagement in Histrien ausführlich Santangelo 2016, 106; 115; 124. Suet. Iul. 28,3; Plut. Caes. 29. Vgl. ausführlich Coşkun 2008.

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Bewohnern der Gallia transalpina geformt hat und deren Soldaten erst am Ende der Dienstzeit das römische Bürgerrecht erhielten.49 Damit maßte sich Caesar Kompetenzen von Gesetzen an, die es Imperiumsträgern in den Jahrzehnten zuvor erlaubt hatten, Nichtbürger, seien es italische Bundesgenossen, seien es Provinziale, wegen im Kampf erwiesener Tapferkeit mit dem Bürgerrecht zu versehen. Dies besagt die bei Sisenna belegte lex Calpurnia des Jahres 89.50 Pompeius Strabo verlieh auf dieser Grundlage im Jahr 88 einer spanischen Reitereinheit das Bürgerrecht. Im Jahr 72 ermächtigte die lex Gellia Cornelia die beiden Prokonsuln Q. Caecilius Metellus Pius und Cn. Pompeius Magnus kurz vor Abschluß des Sertorius-Krieges, verdiente Bündner zu römischen Bürgern zu machen.51 Eine solche gesetzliche Legitimation besaß Caesar allerdings nicht.52 Das römische Bürgerrecht besaß hohe Attraktivität offenbar nicht nur als in Aussicht stehende Belohnung für Truppen aus Nichtbürgern, sondern auch als Basis für den Dienst in der Legion, den eigentlich nur Römer leisten konnten.53 Erst auf dieser Grundlage konnte Caesar die affektive Nähe zu seinen Legionären aufbauen, welche die große soziale Distanz zwischen beiden Seiten zu überbrücken vermochte. Der Großteil der Forschung hat jedoch nicht das absolute militärische Imperium des römischen Magistraten über die Bürgersoldaten als entscheidenden rechtlichen Rahmen für ihre Beziehung gesehen. Vielmehr sprechen immer noch viele Forscher54 angesichts der gegenseitigen Abhängigkeit zwischen Feldherr und Legionär von einer „Heeresklientel“. Gehorsam und Treue der Legionäre seien Gegenleistung für die beneficia des Feldherrn gewesen, die dieser in Form von Beute und Donativen für die aktiven Legionäre und von Versorgung mit Land für die Veteranen gewährte. Dennoch bleibt der heuristische Mehrwert des Patronagebegriffs unklar, der ja grundsätzlich das Verhältnis rechtlich unabhängiger römischer Bürger zueinander

49 50 51 52

53 54

Suet. Iul. 24,2. Vgl. Gilbert 2007, 11–54. Sisenna fr. 65 FRH = 120 Peter: milites, ut lex Calpurnia concesserat, virtutis ergo civitate donari Vgl. Elster 2014, 200–202; 217. Vgl. zu diesen Gesetzen Luraschi 1996, 77–80; Coşkun 2004, 102–108 und González Roman 2010, 44–47. Caesar mag sich dabei auf C. Marius berufen haben, der ohne juristische Grundlage und überdies unter Mißachtung des mit dem umbrischen Camerinum bestehenden foedus aequum Tausend von dessen Bewohnern wegen ihrer Tapferkeit gegen die Kimbern und Teutonen das Bürgerrecht verliehen und sich damit entschuldigt hatte, er habe durch den Lärm der Waffen die Stimme der Gesetze nicht hören können (Plut. Mar. 28). Vgl. Bispham 2007, 21–24 mit Diskussion der verschiedenen Definitionen des Begriffes municeps und dessen Verpflichtung zum Dienst in der Legion bei Festus p. 126 Lindsay und Paulus p. 117 Lindsay. Von Premerstein 1937, 22–26; Syme 1939, 15; 288; 404; Gabba 1976, 26–28; Raaflaub 1987, 253–257; Dahlheim 1992, 202 f.; Bleicken 1995, 39–41; Giuffrè 1996, 130–132; Wendt 2008, 37; 43 f. u. ö.; González Román 2010, 35. Ungeachtet einiger Kautelen sieht jüngst Ganter 2015, 140 im Anschluß an Nippel 2000/2002, 149 in „den großen Heerführern der Späten Republik Patrone ‚neuen Typs‘ entstanden“.

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charakterisiert. Die Patronage eignet sich hingegen nicht als Beschreibung der Beziehung zwischen einem Imperiumsträger und den von ihm ausgehobenen Soldaten, die ihm im sacramentum Treue schworen und im Falle des Ungehorsams oder der Feigheit von ihm zum Tode verurteilt werden konnten.55 Die Römer selbst faßten das Verhältnis zwischen Imperiumsträger und Legionär nicht in den Kategorien von patronus und cliens. Die beiden Begriffe bezeichnen an keiner Stelle in der lateinischen Literatur eine militärische Hierarchie.56 Wichtiger noch als die Frage der Terminologie ist wohl die Frage der Dauer der Beziehung zwischen Imperiumsträger und Legionären, die bei einem bestehenden Klientelverhältnis über das formelle Ende der Dienstzeit hinaus fortdauern müßte. Doch Caesar reagierte auf die mehrmalige Forderung seiner Legionäre, die sich in einer Ruhestellung nach einem abgeschlossenen Feldzug befanden, nach Entlohnung und Entlassung aus dem Dienst (so im Jahr 49 in Placentia und 47 in Rom) nirgends mit einem Verweis auf deren moralische Pflichten ihm gegenüber, die noch zu erfüllen seien, sondern allein mit Hinweis auf den Eid, den sie ihm geleistet hatten57, bzw. mit der lapidaren Feststellung, daß in der Tat die Dienstzeit der Legionäre abgelaufen sei.58 Da das auf den Feldherrn geleistete sacramentum der Legionäre sich nur auf einen Feldzug bezog, sollte in diesen Fällen nicht von Meuterei gesprochen werden, denn sie verlangten nichts Unbilliges. Die geringe Neigung der Veteranen, dem früheren Feldherrn in politischen Auseinandersetzungen beizustehen, wenn sie erst einmal aus dem Dienst entlassen und angesiedelt worden waren, belegen eindrücklich die ehemaligen Soldaten des Pompeius in den 50er Jahren: Um der scharfen, zum Teil gewalttätigen Anfeindungen seines 55

56

57 58

Daß Scipio Aemilianus 134 für den Krieg gegen Numantia, Pompeius 83 in Picenum und der Republikaner Domitius Ahenobarbus 49 in Mittelitalien ihre privaten Klienten für ihre jeweiligen Heere rekrutierten, besagt in dieser Hinsicht nichts; vgl. Gruen 1995, 376 f. mit den Quellen. Als Gegenbeispiele dienen die umbrische Stadt Auximum, die Pompeius kurz zuvor noch als Patron gepriesen hatte (ILS 877), aber zu Beginn des Bürgerkrieges mit fliegenden Fahnen zu Caesar überging, der, so die Begründung der Stadtväter, sich doch um das Vaterland so sehr verdient gemacht habe (Caes. BCiv. 1,13,1: Caesarem imperatorem bene de re publica meritum tantis rebus gestis), und das picenische Cingulum, das der spätere Caesarfeind T. Labienus aus eigenen Mitteln angelegt hatte, das sich aber sogleich Caesar anschloß (Caes. BCiv. 1,15,2). In den Fällen, in denen der Begriff patronus im militärischen Kontext auftaucht, (Liv. 3,29,3 zum Jahr 458 und Liv. 22,29 f. zum Jahr 217) verleihen Truppen diesen Ehrentitel einem Imperiumsträger, der gerade nicht ihr eigener Befehlshaber war, sondern der durch die Überspielung des eigentlichen Befehlshabers die Truppen jeweils aus einer großen Gefahr errettet hatte. App. BCiv. 2,47,193: „ἐς τόνδε τὸν πόλεμον ὅλον, οὐκ ἐς μέρος αὐτοῦ μοι συνομόσαντες ἐν μέσοις ἔργοις ἡμᾶς ἀπολείπετε.“ Cass. Dio 42,53,5 f.: „ἀφίημι μέν“ ἔφη „καὶ ὑμᾶς τοὺς παρόντας καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους πάντας, ὅσοις τὰ τῆς στρατείας ἔτη ἐξήκει· οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ δέομαί τι ὑμῶν· τὰ μέντοι γέρα καὶ ὣς ὑμῖν ἀποδώσω, ἵνα μήποτέ τις εἴπῃ ὅτι ἐγὼ χρησάμενος ὑμῖν ἐν τοῖς κινδύνοις ἔπειτα ἀχάριστος ἐγενόμην, εἰ καὶ τὰ μάλιστα καὶ τοῖς σώμασιν ἐρρωμένοι καὶ πάντα καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ προσδιαπολεμῆσαι δυνάμενοι οὐκ ἠθελήσατέ μοι συστρατεῦσαι.“ Man beachte, daß Caesar am Ende nur auf die körperliche Leistungsfähigkeit verweist, die den Legionären nahelegen könnte, weiter mit ihm zu kämpfen.

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Feindes Clodius Herr zu werden, konnte Pompeius nicht auf seine Veteranen bauen, sondern war gezwungen, seine Klienten aus Picenum und Gallien zu holen.59 Um in den Jahren 55 und 54 die Wahl des Pompeius und Crassus bzw. von deren Kandidaten zu Konsuln durchzupeitschen, mußte Caesar seine Legionäre eigens von Gallien nach Rom schicken. Pompeius’ Veteranen waren offenbar nicht mehr verfügbar.60 Zu den patroni der Veteranen wurden erst diejenigen, die das Ansiedlungsprogramm auf den Weg gebracht und dann auch in die Praxis umgesetzt hatten, mithin keineswegs notwendigerweise ihre früheren Kommandeure. Im Falle von Pompeius’ Veteranen aus den Kriegen der 60 Jahre war das der Konsul von 59, Caesar. Man denke zudem daran, wie sich im Jahr 100 Marius’ Veteranen immer mehr dessen Kontrolle – er war immerhin damals Konsul – entzogen und dem Volkstribunen Saturninus zuwandten, der ihre Ansiedlung betrieben hatte.61 Es bleibt festzuhalten, daß sich im Verhältnis zwischen Imperiumsträger und Legionär kaum, schon gar nicht zentrale, Elemente einer Patron-Klient-Beziehung wiederfinden.62 Was band aber dann die Soldaten in so hohem Maße an die überragenden Feldherren der Späten Republik? Sallust und Appian nennen in ihren düsteren Bildern der Bürgerkriegszeit als einzige Motivation der Legionäre das Streben nach materiellem Gewinn: nach Sold, Beute und Donativen sowie nach späterer Versorgung mit Land.63 Nicht zuletzt unter dem Eindruck dieser Zuschreibungen sieht Brunt die römischen Armeen der Späten Republik nur noch als Söldnertruppen.64 Durch einen Vergleich mit hellenistischen Söldnern hat jedoch Flaig65 diese Interpretation m. E. überzeugend widerlegt: Die Loyalität spätrepublikanischer Heere war grundlegend weit höher als die der Söldner gegenüber den hellenistischen Königen, deren Fahne sie bei drohender Niederlage schnell verließen. Im Gegensatz zu diesen Söldnern war für römische Soldaten zentral, daß Sold und Donative vom Befehlshaber stammten. Diese Zahlungen hatten neben dem materiellen Wert mithin eine große symbolische Bedeutung als Anerkennung ihrer Leistung durch den Feldherrn. Zudem erhielten die Legionäre, die denselben militärischen Rang hatten, denselben Sold, während Söldner

59 60 61 62

63 64 65

Cic. QFr. 2,3,4. Plut. Pomp. 52; Crass. 15; Cat. Min. 41; Cass. Dio 39,31,1 f.; App. BCiv. 2,17 f.,65 f. Die mangelnde Verfügbarkeit der Veteranen betonen Gruen 1974, 378; Brunt 1988, 437 und Dingmann 2007, 192–194; gegenteiliger Auffassung sind de Blois 2000, 17 f. und Alston 2002, 33 f. Vgl. Heftner 2005, 38, 41–44. Die These von einer ‚Heeresklientel‘ stellen Aigner 1974, 150–152; Brunt 1988, 435–438; Flaig 1992, 168–173; Gruen 1995, 376–378; Keaveney 2007, 30–33; de Blois 2007, 173–176 in Frage; kritisch dazu auch die Überblicke von Stäcker 2003, 23–38; 45 f.; Mann 2013, 109 f.; 120 f. und Walter 2017, 145. Treffend von Ungern-Sternberg 1998, 614: „Die Übertragung des im sozialen und politischen Leben Roms so tief verankerten Begriffs Klientel verdeckt geradezu das Neuartige, Exzeptionelle des Phänomens (sc. der Wendung einer Armee gegen das eigene Regierungszentrum, W. B.).“ Sall. Cat. 11 und App. BCiv. 5,17,69–71. Brunt 1988, 31; 386; 436. So auch Campbell 1984, 182–198; Dahlheim 1992, 207 f. Flaig 1992, 164–168.

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darin sich individuell, je nach den Bedingungen ihrer Anwerbung, untereinander stark unterscheiden konnten. Den entscheidenden Unterschied zu den Söldnern, deren vorheriger Rechtsstatus kaum von Belang war, bildete die Grundlage für den römischen Waffendienst: Jeder Legionär mußte das römische Bürgerrecht besitzen. Angesichts der fundamentalen Bedeutung des römischen Bürgerrechts ist im folgenden zu fragen, ob sich etwas von einem Bürgerbewußtsein bei den Legionären in der an inneren Kämpfen reichen Späten Republik findet läßt. Als der aus Rom vertriebene Konsul von 87, Cinna, Truppen sammelte, um gewaltsam seine Wiedereinsetzung ins Amt zu erzwingen, appellierte er nicht nur, wie anfangs erwähnt, an die soeben eingebürgerten Italiker, sondern auch an die Truppen, die bei Capua zur Belagerung von Nola bereitstanden. Nachdem er seine fasces abgelegt hatte, erinnerte er laut dem Bericht des Appian66 die als Bürger angesprochenen Legionäre daran, daß er aus ihren Händen das höchste Amt erhalten habe, das ihm nun aber vom Senat genommen worden sei. Damit sei aber für die Zukunft auch grundsätzlich das Recht der Bürger auf freie Wahlen in Gefahr. Der Appell an das Bürgerbewußtsein der Legionäre war67 von Erfolg gekrönt: Als er sich nach dem Ende seiner Rede die Kleider zerriß und vor ihnen in den Staub warf, forderten sie ihn auf, sie nach Rom zu führen. Auch wenn die Authentizität dieser Rede keineswegs sicher ist68, so deutet doch Cinnas allein auf das Wahlrecht der Legionäre konzentrierte Argumentation auf dessen hohe Bedeutung für deren Selbstverständnis hin.69 Die tatsächliche Ausübung des Wahlrechtes durch die Legionäre wurde schon für die Konsulwahlen von 55 und 54 erwähnt. Handgreiflich war auch das Eingreifen der Legionäre im November 43, als die gerade in Rom eingezogenen Heere der Triumvirn Antonius, Oktavian und Lepidus in aller Eile die lex Titia als deren Ermächtigungsgesetz in der Volksversammlung durchfochten.70 Doch auch im Fall einer freien, ungestörten Wahl, nämlich der des L. Licinius Murena zum Konsul von 62, erweckt Cicero in seiner Verteidigungsrede gegen dessen Anklage wegen Amtserschleichung zumindest den Eindruck, als hätten die Stimmen

66

67 68

69 70

App. BCiv. 1,65,298 f.: „παρὰ μὲν ὑμῶν, ὦ πολῖται, τὴν ἀρχὴν τήνδε ἔλαβον· ὁ γὰρ δῆμος ἐχειροτόνησεν· ἡ βουλὴ δ’ ἀφείλετό με χωρὶς ὑμῶν. καὶ τάδε παθὼν ἐν οἰκείοις κακοῖς ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν ὅμως ἀγανακτῶ· τί γὰρ ἔτι τὰς φυλὰς ἐν ταῖς χειροτονίαις θεραπεύομεν, τί δὲ ὑμῶν δεόμεθα, ποῦ δὲ ἔσεσθε τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν ἢ χειροτονιῶν ἢ τῶν ὑπατειῶν ἔτι κύριοι, εἰ μὴ βεβαιώσετε μέν, ἃ δίδοτε, ἀφαιρήσεσθε δ’, ὅταν αὐτοὶ δοκιμάσητε.“ Mit Recht weist Hodgson 2017, 84 f. aber darauf hin, daß Cinna die Soldaten nicht mehr als seine Untergebenen anreden konnte, da er durch seine Absetzung als Konsul jede Befehlsgewalt über sie verloren hatte. Morstein-Marx 2011, 271 vermutet Sisenna (vielleicht über Livius) als Quelle des Appian. Laut Vell. Pat. 2,20,4 (ähnlich Schol. Gronov. p. 410 und Liv. Per. 79,1) hat Cinna zuerst allerdings die Hauptleute und Tribune und schließlich die einfachen Soldaten vornehmlich mit Versprechungen von Reichtümern für sich gewonnen. So ausführlich Morstein-Marx 2011, 266–271; zudem Chrissanthos 2004, 353. App. BCiv. 4,7,27.

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der Veteranen des Murena ein großes Gewicht gehabt. Denn Murena habe sich 64 große Sympathien in den umbrischen Munizipien dadurch erworben, daß er dort sich großzügig gezeigt, d. h. für sein Provinzkommando in der Gallia transalpina wohl nur Freiwillige ausgehoben habe; zudem habe der gute Leumund der Soldaten – Murena sei ein rücksichtsvoller Feldherr gewesen – bei den Wahlen gewirkt.71 Die Teilnahme an Wahlen und Abstimmungen über Gesetze in Rom hatte sogar einen erheblichen Mehrwert für die Legionäre selbst:72 Selbst wenn dies selten geschah, so konnten die Legionäre dafür um so unwiderstehlicher der plebs urbana, die sonst die Abstimmungen beherrschte, nicht nur ihr Bürgerrecht an sich, sondern auch ihre politische Macht demonstrieren. Denn falls die Urnengänge nicht nach dem oft einheitlichen Willen der Legionäre auszugehen drohten, so konnten sie immerhin die andersstimmenden Bürger auch einmal handgreiflich von der „Richtigkeit“ ihrer eigenen politischen Meinung überzeugen. Gerade bei der Wahl der Oberbeamten und der Vergabe von imperia extraordinaria – in beiden Fällen führten die gewählten Imperiumsträger mindestens einen Teil eben jener Legionäre in den Krieg – „wußten“ die Soldaten nach eigener Einschätzung aufgrund ihres militärischen Sachverstandes, wer der richtige Feldherr war;73 dessen Wahl durfte nicht der „unwissenden“ plebs urbana überlassen bleiben, die allein entsprechend den Geldspenden der Bewerber ihre Gunst verteilte und auf diese Weise nur wieder einen aus den zumeist unfähigen nobiles auswählen würde. Im Sinne mili71

72

73

Cic. Mur. 42: Habuit proficiscens dilectum in Umbria; dedit ei facultatem res publica liberalitatis, qua usus multas sibi tribus quae municipiis Umbriae conficiuntur adiunxit 38: Imperatores enim comitiis consularibus, non verborum interpretes deliguntur Qua re gravis est illa oratio: „Me saucium recreavit, me praeda donavit; hoc duce castra cepimus, signa contulimus; numquam iste plus militi laboris imposuit quam sibi sumpsit, ipse cum fortis tum etiam felix “ Vgl. Nicolet 1980, 143. Wie sehr selbst noch die Veteranen, wenn sie geschlossen in italischen Kolonien weitab von Rom angesiedelt worden waren, am Wahlrecht in den römischen Volksversammlungen interessiert waren, zeigt sich daran, daß Augustus den Ratsherren dieser Kolonien – und diese werden zum größten Teil ehemalige Zenturionen gewesen sein – erlaubte, gleichsam per Briefwahl daran teilzunehmen, indem ihre Stimmen vorab eingesammelt und in versiegelten Urnen nach Rom gebracht wurden (Suet. Aug. 46). Vgl. zur hohen Symbolkraft dieses Privilegs de Blois 1994. – Nachdem das Versprechen von üppigen Sonderzahlungen nichts genutzt hatte, gelang Oktavian die Niederschlagung der großen Sizilischen Meuterei von 36 nur, indem er die Zenturionen von den Mannschaften abspaltete: Er stellte sämtlichen Zenturionen für die Zeit nach der Entlassung die Ernennung zu Mitgliedern der jeweiligen Lokal-Senate ihrer Heimatstädte in Aussicht (App. BCiv. 5,128 f., 528–537, bes. 5,128,531; Cass. Dio 49,13,1–14,4); vgl. de Blois 2000, 28 f. Galt für die Mannschaften jedoch nicht das, was der Tribun Ofillius daraufhin Oktavian entgegenhielt: App. BCiv. 5,128,532: στεφάνους μὲν καὶ πορφύραν εἶναι παισὶν ἀθύρματα, στρατοῦ δὲ γέρα χωρία καὶ χρήματα ? Dazu Patterson 1993, 102. Vgl. Pabst 1997, 75. Dies wird deutlich bei Liv. 24,8,18 f. und besonders in der überzeugenden Erklärung des Sprichwortes sexagenarios de ponte bei Festus p. 452 Lindsay: Sed exploratissimum illud est causae, quo tempore primum per pontem coeperunt comitiis suffragium ferre, iuniores conclamaverunt, ut de ponte deicerentur sexagenari, qui iam nullo publico munere fungerentur, ut ipsi potius sibi quam illi deligerent imperatorem Ähnlich Ov. Fast. 5,633 f. und Varro ap. Non. Marc. p. 842 Lindsay. Zur Herkunft des Sprichwortes vgl. Timmer 2008, 78–80 und Aricò Anselmo 2012, 120–154.

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tärischer Leistungsstandards mußten die Soldaten einen Aristokraten bevorzugen, der schon in Kriegen seine Kompetenz bewiesen und sich Ruhm erworben hatte, und folgerichtig für diesen ein zeitlich wie räumlich weitreichendes Imperium fordern. Damit war sowohl der von der Nobilität erwünschte jährliche Wechsel der Befehlshaber als auch die Verlosung von Imperien unter den Amtskollegen aufgehoben – beides Mechanismen der Machtdistribution, die nicht den Kriterien von militärischer Qualität folgten, welche für die Legionäre jedoch ausschließlich relevant waren. Dennoch wird den Legionären selbst ein solches – durch militärische Leistungsstandards konditioniertes – Bürgerbewußtsein abgesprochen. Als Schlüsselbeleg wird dabei das schon angesprochene Aufbegehren der Soldaten der 10. Legion angeführt, die im Jahr 47 in Kampanien auf die Verschiffung zum Afrika-Feldzug warteten, aber gewalttätig von Caesar die früher versprochenen Belohnungen und die sofortige Entlassung forderten, da sie schon viel zu lange und gegen das Gesetz beim Heer gehalten würden. Caesar kündigte den versammelten Soldaten die sofortige Auszahlung der in Aussicht gestellten Belohnungen an und entließ sie zu ihrem größten Entsetzen auf der Stelle aus dem Dienst. Um dies zu verdeutlichen, sprach er sie als „Quiriten“ an. Das entsetzte die Legionäre jedoch sehr, da sie angeblich nicht entlassen werden, sondern Caesar dazu nötigen wollten, für den neuen Feldzug höhere Belohnungen in Aussicht zu stellen.74 Das Entsetzen der Legionäre über die Anrede „Quiriten“ wird oft als Beleg dafür gewertet, daß sie jegliches Bürgerbewußtsein abgelegt und sich nur noch als milites verstanden hätten.75 Doch rein sprachlich ist eine solche Interpretation nicht haltbar: Die Anrede „Quirites“ bezeichnet nicht die Bürger allgemein, sondern die „Zivilisten“, die innerhalb des pomerium alle Schutzrechte v. a. durch die Interzession der Volkstribune gegenüber dem Zugriff eines Obermagistraten oder Imperiumsträgers genossen.76 Über ihr Selbstverständnis als cives sagt diese Episode also nichts aus.77 Zudem ist an der historischen Wirkmächtigkeit von Caesars Drohung mit der Entlassung zu zweifeln, da er ihnen schließlich die versprochenen Gelder auszahlte und

74

75 76

77

Suet. Iul. 70: sed una voce, qua Quirites eos pro militibus appellarat, tam faciles circumegit et flexit, ut ei milites esse confestim responderint et quamvis recusantem ultro in Africam sint secuti. Zudem Cass. Dio 42,53,3; Tac. Ann. 1,42,3. Chrissanthos 2001 erachtet mit überzeugenden Gründen die Rede für unhistorisch. Vgl. auch Hölkeskamp 2013, 13 f., der als literarische Parallele auf Liv. 45,37,14 verweist. So Schmitthenner 1960, 2; Brisson 1969, 12; Rüpke 1990, 91 und Dahlheim 1992, 198. Auch Hölkeskamp 2013, 14 geht in diese Richtung. Lucan. BCiv. 5,358 läßt Caesar die Soldaten bezeichnenderweise mit „ignavi … Quirites“ anreden. Zum Begriff ausführlich Prugni 1987, bes. 136: „i cittadini romani nell’espletamento delle loro funzioni civili e non inquadrati militarmente“. Man denke nur an das davon abgeleitete Verb quiritare ‚die Mitbürger zu Hilfe rufen, über einen Mißstand laut klagen‘. So auch Rüpke 1990, 91 mit älterer Literatur in Anm. 193. App. BCiv. 2,93,392 und Plut. Caes. 51,2 verfehlen diesen entscheidenden Unterschied zu cives, indem sie Quirites mit bloßem πολῖται übersetzen, während Cass. Dio 42,53,3 den lateinischen Terminus mit Κυιρῖται unmittelbar ins Griechische übertragen hat. So ausführlich Pabst 1997, 59 und Dingmann 2007, 210.

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mit der Ansiedlung – vermutlich der älteren Veteranen – begann, so daß letztlich die Soldaten ihr Ziel erreicht hatten.78 Caesar hatte mit der Anrede der Soldaten als „Quiriten“ auch die Entlassung aus dem Eid ausgesprochen, der sie bis zum Ende des Krieges an den Befehlshaber band. Seit alter Zeit hatten die Soldaten im sacramentum zu schwören, nicht eher aus dem Dienst zu scheiden, als bis es der Konsul befehle.79 Hier ist also der explizite Bezug zum Oberkommandierenden und damit zur staatlichen Instanz hergestellt80, auch wenn der Eid jeweils erneuert werden mußte, wenn der Imperiumsträger an der Spitze der Armee wechselte. Dennoch scheint das sacramentum selbst in der Späten Republik, für die man es häufig vermutet, keine starke, gar unauflösbare Bindung an den Befehlshaber gestiftet zu haben. Denn Cinna, C. Flavius Fimbria, Sulla vor seiner Landung in Italien 83 und selbst Caesar 49 sahen sich genötigt, durch weitere Treueschwüre die Soldaten an sich zu binden.81 Cinna und Fimbria nutzte auch der zusätzliche Treueschwur nichts, denn sie wurden beide von ihren Truppen ermordet bzw. im Stich gelassen, wie auch zahlreiche andere Feldherren nach ihnen. Gerade Sulla galt als Meister darin, die von Marianern angeführten Heere zum Seitenwechsel zu bewegen.82 Nicht zufällig kam das Überlaufen ganzer römischer Heeresabteilungen zum Kriegsgegner nur in den Bürgerkriegssituationen gerade der 80er Jahre vor, hingegen nicht in Kriegen mit auswärtigen Feinden. Die hohe Bereitschaft der Legionäre zum Seitenwechsel erklärt sich leicht aus ihrer Gewißheit, auch bei der gegnerischen Bürgerkriegspartei durch das sacramentum einem römischen Befehlshaber unterstellt zu werden und sich damit das römische Bürgerrecht zu bewahren.83 Das Bürgerrecht der Legionäre war jedoch dann stark gefährdet, wenn der römische Senat ihren Befehlshaber und damit auch alle Truppen, die weiterhin treu zu ihm standen, zu Staatsfeinden (hostes) erklärte, wie es in den Bürgerkriegen der 80er, der 40er und späten 30er Jahre mehrfach geschah. Nicht weniger als für ihren Befehlshaber war deshalb für die Soldaten ein zentrales Ziel, daß diese hostis-Erklärung wieder aufgehoben wurde.84

78 79 80 81 82 83 84

Cass. Dio 42,54; Plut. Caes. 51,2. So Chrissanthos 2001,72–75 und Dingmann 2007, 210. Serv. Aen. 7,614: sacramentum, in quo iurat unusquisque miles se non recedere, nisi praecepto consulis post completa stipendia, id est militiae tempora. Ähnlich Liv. 22,38,3; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 10,18,3. So Harmand 1967, 299–302 und Gruen 1995, 375 f. gegen Smith 1958, 31–33. Zum sacramentum vgl. Rüpke 1990, 76–91, bes. 88–90; Keaveney 2007, 71–77 und Dingmann 2007, 214–217. Cinna: App. BCiv. 1,66; Fimbria: App. Mith. 59; Sulla: Plut. Sull. 27,3; Caesar: App. BCiv. 2,47; 2,140. Dazu Gruen 1995, 376. Fälle von Meuterei bei Keaveney 2007, 77–92 und ausführlich Wolff 2009, 179–360. Vgl. Gruen 1995, 373 und Wolff 2009, 233–240. So Raaflaub 1987, 254 und Allély 2012, 133–147. Zwar wünscht sich Tullius, ein Legat des Sex. Pompeius, nach seiner Flucht zu Caesar, von Beginn an ein miles Caesaris und nicht ein miles Cn Pompei gewesen zu sein; doch am schlimmsten scheint ihm die Gefahr, nun mit anderen römischen Bürgern unter die Staatsfeinde gezählt zu werden, BHisp. 17,2: cuius funestae laudes quoniam ad

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Die Befehlshaber selbst unterstrichen in der Kommunikation mit ihren Truppen, d. h. in den häufigen militärischen contiones, die eigene Legitimität. Caesar rechtfertigte seinen Einmarsch nach Italien im Januar 49 zum einen mit der Verteidigung der Rechte der beiden Volkstribune, die von den Senatoren bedroht und schließlich aus Rom vertrieben worden waren, weil sie mit ihrem Veto die Entsendung von Nachfolgern in Caesars Provinzen blockiert hatten.85 Weit grundsätzlicher argumentiert er, wenn er in seinen Commentarii seinen Soldaten, insbesondere den Unteroffizieren, Bekenntnisse zur res publica und libertas in den Mund legt.86 Im Gegenzug weiß Cassius Dio aber auch davon zu berichten, daß Caesars Legionäre vor der Schlacht bei Vesontio 58 gegen den Suebenfürsten Ariovist die Rechtmäßigkeit seiner Kriegführung als „nicht durch das Volk beschlossen“ in Zweifel zogen und deshalb meuterten.87 Auch wenn die Heeresansprachen, die Caesar, Lukan, Plutarch, Appian und Cassius Dio ihren Feldherren in den Mund legen,88 das geistige Produkt der Autoren sind, so darf die Berufung der Feldherren auf Recht, Gesetz und Freiheit des Volkes keineswegs als bloß fiktiv abgetan werden. Denn wären einfache Legionäre notorisch unempfänglich für solche politische Propaganda gewesen, dann hätten auch die antiken Autoren darum gewußt und als Adressaten der Reden nicht sie, sondern allein Militärtribune oder höhere Offiziere gewählt.89 Zudem legen Münzprägungen gerade aus den 40er Jahren, die die Göttin Libertas und oft eine entsprechende Umschrift tragen,90 die Vermutung nahe, daß dieses zentrale bürgerliche Ideal wohl auch bei Truppen Widerhall finden konnte.

85 86

87

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hanc fortunam, reciderunt ut cives Romani indigentes praesidii (Lücke im Text) … et propter patriae luctuosam perniciem dedimur hostium numero. Vgl. González Román 2010, 35. Ausführlich Caes. BCiv. 1,7. Weitere Stellen und deren Analyse bei Raaflaub 1974, 241–262. So der Adlerträger der 10. Legion in Civ. BGall. 4,25,3: „desilite“ inquit „commilitones, nisi vultis aquilam hostibus prodere; ego certe meum rei publicae atque imperatori officium praestitero “ und der Primipilus der 10. Legion, Crastinus, vor der Schlacht von Pharsalos im August 48, Caes. BCiv. 3,91,2: „unum hoc proelium superest quo confecto et ille suam dignitatem et nos nostram libertatem recuperabimus “ Allerdings ist auffällig, daß libertas lediglich unmittelbar vor und in der frühen Phase des Bürgerkrieges einen zentralen Platz in Caesars Propaganda einnahm, danach aber deutlich hinter anderen Begriffen zurücktrat, wie Raaflaub 2003 gezeigt hat. Vgl. Morstein-Marx 2009, 124 f. mit weiterer Literatur. Cass. Dio 38,35,1: καὶ ἐθρύλουν ὅτι πόλεμον οὔτε προσήκοντα οὔτε ἐψηφισμένον διὰ τὴν ἰδίαν τοῦ Καίσαρος φιλοτιμίαν ἀναιροῖντο, καὶ προσεπηπείλουν ἐγκαταλείψειν αὐτὸν, ἂν μὴ μεταβάληται. Neben vielen anderen halten diese Nachricht für authentisch Hagendahl, 1944, 29–40; Zecchini 1978, 31 f. und Chrissanthos 2004, 352. Zu den Reden des Pompeius und Caesar vgl. Raaflaub 1974, 192–200; 252–254 sowie Dingmann 2007, 211 f. Eine nützliche Übersicht über die überlieferten militärischen contiones des 1. Jahrhunderts bietet Pina Polo 1989, 199–218 und 335–345 (Liste); zudem Chrissanthos 2004, 359–361. Vgl. Jehne 2006, 265 Anm. 98; Iglesias Zoido 2007 und Anson 2010 mit weiterer Literatur. So auch Dingmann 2007, 212 m. Anm. 343. Beispiele bei Crawford 1974, Nr. 449/4 und 473/1 (Caesarische Prägungen von 48 bzw. 45) sowie Nr. 498/1; 499/1; 500/2–5; 501/1; 502/1–3; 505/1–5; 506/3 (Prägungen der Caesar-Mörder Cassius und Brutus von 43/42) sowie der berühmte Denar des Münzmeisters L. Plaetorius Cestianus mit der Phrygischen Mütze als Freiheitssymbol zwischen den beiden Dolchen und dem Verweis auf die Iden des März (Nr. 508/3).

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Daß die römischen Feldherren gerade der Bürgerkriegszeiten und mit ihnen auch ihre Soldaten bürgerliche Ideale vor sich her trugen, mag noch zu einem erheblichen Teil propagandistischer Absicht zugeschrieben werden. Bemerkenswert ist jedoch, daß Caesar immer wieder den feindlichen Heeren der Republikaner den Bürgerstatus nicht nur nicht absprach, sondern ihn in seinen Schriften eigens betonte.91 Für gegnerische Truppen bildete auch in der Folgezeit der gemeinsame Bürgerstatus häufig die Basis, auf der sie einen Ausgleich, gar eine Verbrüderung anstelle eines gegenseitigen Abschlachtens suchten. So behauptete der spätere Triumvir M. Aemilius Lepidus am 30. Mai 43 in einem offiziellen Brief an den Senat, daß seine Soldaten „auf ihrem Gewohnheitsrecht, das Leben von Bürgern zu schonen und den allgemeinen Frieden zu bewahren, bestanden“ und ihn durch offene Meuterei „gezwungen“ hätten, deshalb eine Vereinigung mit dem Heer des M. Antonius herbeizuführen.92 Die aussagekräftigsten Hinweise auf ein Bürgerbewußtsein bei den Legionären liefern offenbar die Situationen, in denen die Legionäre eigenständig handeln und zwar gegen den Willen ihrer jeweiligen Befehlshaber: So berichtet Caesar, daß sich die Legionen des republikanischen Statthalters von Syrien, L. Caecilius Metellus Pius Scipio, im Jahr 48 zuerst weigerten, gegen den „civis et consul“ Caesar die Waffen zu erheben. Daß schließlich überreiche Geschenke sie laut Caesar doch zu einem Meinungsumschwung bewegen konnten, illustriert freilich die nicht selten einander widerstreitenden ‚politischen‘ und materiellen Bedürfnisse der Soldaten.93 An dieser Stelle muß betont werden, daß hier keineswegs die materiellen Anreize für den Heeresdienst in Form von Sold, Donativen, Beute und Versorgung mit Land als Motiv ignoriert werden sollen; doch hier wird bezweifelt, daß sie an Bedeutung die ‚politischen‘ Interessen der Legionäre übertroffen hätten.94 So vermochten auch nichts die üppigen Handgelder von 2000 Sesterzen, d. h. dem doppelten Jahressold, die der junge Oktavian im Herbst 44 den Legionären des M. Antonius zahlte, damit sie zu ihm überliefen. Denn als Oktavian offenbarte, daß sie, wie sie laut Appian selbst klagten, „gegen ihren früheren Feldherrn und den amtierenden Konsul“ zu Felde geführt werden sollten, verließen ihn 9000 der insgesamt angeworbenen 10 000 Legionäre sogleich wieder.95

91 92

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Caes. BCiv. 1,35,3; 3,19,2 u. ö. Vgl. ausführlich Raaflaub 1974, 238; 288; 298 f.; 302; 306. Lepidus apud Cic. Fam. 10,35,1: exercitus cunctus consuetudinem suam in civibus conservandis communique pace seditione facta retinuit meque tantae multitudinis civium Romanorum salutis atque incolumitatis causam suscipere, ut vere dicam, coegit Vgl. Botermann 1968, 127–130; Aigner 1974, 244 f. Anm. 513 und Gotter 1996, 180 f. Caes. BCiv. 3,31,4. Dazu Raaflaub 1974, 252 und Dingmann 2007, 214 Anm. 351. Nachdrücklich bezweifeln das auch Morstein-Marx/Rosenstein 2006, 630–632, gerade weil die Besitzlosen keineswegs die Mehrheit in den römischen Heeren der Zeit bildeten. Handgelder: Cic. Att. 16,8,1; Cass. Dio 45,12,2. Zur Meuterei von Oktavians Soldaten App. BCiv. 3,41 f., 168–173; bes. 3,42,170: ἤχθοντο τῇ κατ’ Ἀντωνίου προαγορεύσει, στρατηγοῦ τε σφῶν γεγονότος καὶ ὄντος ὑπάτου. Vgl. Botermann 1968, 38, 42–44 und Kober 2000, 123 f.; 213 f.

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Wie sehr die Soldaten nach staatsrechtlicher Legitimation für ihren Feldherrn strebten, zeigt eine keineswegs über jeden historische Zweifel erhabene96 Episode: Als kurz darauf, im Dezember 44, zwei Legionen, erneut verlockt von hohen Handgeldern, von Antonius zu Oktavian übergelaufen waren – dafür lobte Cicero sie in der Öffentlichkeit als „obgleich Landvolk, doch die tapfersten Männer und besten Bürger, (…) die das Staatswohl verteidigten“97 –, sollen sie ihren neuen, aber amtlosen Anführer Oktavian in Alba Fucens durch demonstrative Übersendung von Liktoren aufgefordert haben, sich zum Proprätor zu erklären – was er jedoch abgelehnt habe.98 Es war eine Delegation von 400 Zenturionen, die im Sommer 43 vom Senat ultimativ das Konsulat für den nicht einmal 20jährigen Oktavian forderte. Wenn die Senatoren sich weigerten, so ließ sich ihr Anführer vernehmen, werde sein Schwert ihm das Amt verschaffen.99 Unmittelbar vor dem Perusinischen Krieg 41 besaßen die Soldaten der in Italien rivalisierenden Feldherren, allen voran die Zenturionen, ein so großes Selbstvertrauen, daß sie als Vermittler zwischen dem Konsul L. Antonius und Oktavian auftraten, in Teanum Sidicinum die Truppenstärke beider Seiten festlegten und den Grundsatz formulierten, daß fortan die Konsuln ohne jede Beeinträchtigung durch die Triumvirn amtieren sollten.100 Kurz danach luden Veteranen des M. Antonius, die im Raum Ancona angesiedelt worden waren, beide Parteien nach Gabii, wo ihre Abgesandten zwischen beiden vermitteln wollten. Daß L. Antonius, der schließlich wegen seines Fernbleibens von diesem Schiedsgericht der Veteranen als Rechtsbrecher verurteilt wurde, dieses Gremium als „Senat in Soldatenstiefeln“ (senatus caligatus) verhöhnte, belegt dessen Zusammensetzung vor allem aus ehemaligen mittleren Chargen, zumeist Zenturionen; denn höhere Offiziere wie Tribune und Legaten trugen den calceus.101 Auch beim späteren Vertrag von Brundisium zwischen M. Antonius und Oktavian im Jahr 40 waren die Soldaten des Oktavian seine Initiatoren wie auch Unterhändler, die schließlich sogar eine Amnestie des gegenseitig begangenen Unrechts erklärten.102

96 97

Vgl. die Zweifel bei Gotter 1996, 135 Anm. 29; als authentisch akzeptiert von Pabst 1997, 79 f. Cic. Fam. 11,7,2 (an seinen Verbündeten D. Brutus Mitte Dezember 44): … homines rusticos sed fortissimos viros civisque optimos dementis fuisse iudices, primum milites veteranos, commilitones tuos, deinde legionem Martiam, legionem quartam, quae suum consulem hostem iudicaverunt seque ad salutem rei publicae defendendam contulerunt Auch Cic. Phil. 8,10: nos libertatem nostris militibus, leges, iura, iudicia, imperium orbis terrae, dignitatem, pacem, otium pollicemur Zudem Cic. Phil. 3,6; 4,5; 5,4; 5,23; 11,20; 14,31. 98 App. BCiv. 3,48,194 f. Vgl. Schmitthenner 1960, 6 f.; 14 f. und Botermann 1968, 57–59. 99 Suet. Aug. 26,1; Cass. Dio 46,43,4. 100 App. BCiv. 5,20,79: Ὧν οἱ ἡγεμόνες τοῦ στρατοῦ πυνθανόμενοι διῄτησαν αὐτοῖς ἐν Τεανῷ καὶ συνήλλαξαν ἐπὶ τοῖσδε, τοὺς μὲν ὑπάτους τὰ πάτρια διοικεῖν μὴ κωλυομένους ὑπὸ τῶν τριῶν ἀνδρῶν. Vgl. Schmitthenner 1960, 7 f.; Aigner 1974, 107 und ausführlich Wallmann 1989, 105–110. 101 App. BCiv. 5,23,90–94; Cass. Dio 48,12,1–3. Vgl. Schmitthenner 1960, 14. 102 App. BCiv. 5,64,272: Ὧν ὁ στρατὸς ὁ τοῦ Καίσαρος αἰσθανόμενοι πρέσβεις εἵλοντο τοὺς αὐτοὺς ἐς ἀμφοτέρους, οἳ τὰ μὲν ἐγκλήματα αὐτῶν ἐπέσχον ὡς οὐ κρῖναι σφίσιν, ἀλλὰ διαλλάξαι μόνον

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Schließlich besaßen die Truppen der Triumviratszeit dank ihrer jeweiligen Zenturionen einen so hohen politischen Organisationsgrad, daß das Heer des M. Antonius, nachdem es nach dessen Niederlage bei Actium im September 31 von sämtlichen Kommandeuren und Offizieren im Stich gelassen worden war, sieben Tage lang mit dem Sieger Oktavian erfolgreich die Kapitulation verhandeln konnte, die ihnen nichts weniger als die Eingliederung in dessen Heer und volle Gleichberechtigung mit dessen Veteranen bei der späteren Entlassung und Versorgung einbrachte.103 Die bisher aufgeführten Belege sollten die Zweifel daran beseitigt haben, daß die römischen Legionäre der Späten Republik und der Triumviralzeit sehr wohl ein ‚politisches‘, also ein Bürgerbewußtsein hatten.104 Und das Livianische Geschichtswerkes mag als Zeuge dafür dienen, daß die Frage, ob römische Legionäre im Felde regelrechte Wahlen abhalten durften, gerade im ausgehenden 1. Jahrhundert v. Chr. in frischer Erinnerung an deren Autonomie gegenüber den Triumvirn vielleicht heftiger diskutiert wurde als zu Zeiten der frühen und klassischen Republik. Doch auch schon damals, im Jahr 390, soll das römische Heer in Veji unter Führung des Zenturionen Q. Caedicius nach Zustimmung des Senats und unter penibler Einhaltung aller sonstigen Formalien die Ernennung des nach Ardea verbannten M. Furius Camillus zum Diktator im Kampf gegen die Gallier durchgesetzt haben.105 Jedoch als der Konsul von 357, Cn. Manlius Capitolinus, sein vor Sutrium stehendes Heer in einer nach Tribus geordneten Abstimmung ein Gesetz zur Einführung einer fünfprozentigen Steuer auf Freilassungen verabschiedet hatte, erklärte sich zwar der Senat damit einverstanden, doch die Volkstribune verboten bei Todesstrafe jede weitere Abhaltung von Volksversammlungen außerhalb der Stadt, da andernfalls auf den Feldherrn vereidigte Soldaten Dinge beschließen könnten, die höchst verderblich für das Volk seien.106 Schließlich echauffierte sich der Senat im Jahr 212 über L. Marcius, der, da nach dem Schlachtentod der

ᾑρημένοι, … ἔγνωσαν Καίσαρι καὶ Ἀντωνίῳ πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀμνηστίαν εἶναι τῶν γεγονότων καὶ φιλίαν ἐς τὸ μέλλον. Vgl. Botermann 1968, 172; Aigner 1974, 114–116 und Wallmann 1989, 146–152. 103 Plut. Ant. 68,4; Cass. Dio 51,1,4; 51,3,1. Vgl. Schmitthenner 1960, 9. 104 Diese These vertreten Schmitthenner 1960; Gruen 1995, 382 f. u. ö.; Pabst 1997, 59; Dingmann 2007, 209–214; de Blois 2000, 22; 29 f.; Morstein-Marx/Rosenstein 2006, 631–633; Keaveney 2007, 37–39; 54 f.; 67; 95; 99 u. ö. Hingegen erkennt Alston 2007, 183–185 im Anschluß an Brunt „[t]he political mobilization of the Roman soldier“ (so die Überschrift 183) ausschließlich dann, wenn es um dessen materielle Versorgung mit Sold und insbesondere Land ging; so auch Phang 2008, 35 f.; 153; 181 u. ö. 105 Liv. 5,46,5–11; bes. 10: … senatus consulto, uti comitiis curiatis revocatus de exilio iussu populi Camillus dictator extemplo diceretur militesque haberent imperatorem quem vellent Vgl. zur literarischen Gestaltung Luce 1971, 292–295. Negativ gewendet bei Liv. 3,51,8: die Furcht des Icilius, ne comitiorum militarium praerogativam urbana comitia iisdem tribunis plebis creandis sequerentur 106 Liv. 7,16,7 f.; bes. 8: ceterum tribuni plebis non tam lege quam exemplo moti, ne quis postea populum sevocaret, capite sanxerunt; nihil enim non per milites iuratos in consulis verba quamvis perniciosum populo, si id liceret, ferri posse Bei Liv. 3,20,6 findet sich die umgekehrte Konstellation: Das Heer am Regillus-See sollte die Anträge der Volkstribune aufheben. Vgl. Pabst 1997, 60 f. und Pina Polo 2011, 110 f. mit weiterer Literatur.

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beiden Befehlshaber über die Truppen in Hispanien von den verbliebenen Legionären regelrecht zum Feldherrn gewählt, sich in einem Brief an den Senat als Proprätor bezeichnet hatte. Man dürfe nicht die Feldherrnwahl den Heeren überlassen und so die geheiligten Zeremonien in das Lager, fernab von Gesetzen und Behörden, der Unberechenbarkeit der Soldaten übertragen.107 In einer gründlichen Analyse dieser drei Episoden hat Haimson Lushkov einen „army-as-city topos“ herauspräpariert,108 der m. E. klar belegt, daß die von Raaflaub auch für die Triumviratszeit apostrophierte „nach wie vor als Regel geltende Identität von Soldat und Bürger“ auch im 1. Jahrhundert nicht in Abrede stand.109 Gerade die comitia centuriata wurden damals, betont durch die beibehaltenen Rituale des Hissens der Kriegsfahne und der Wache auf der arx, weiterhin grundsätzlich als „Volk in Waffen“ verstanden.110 Deshalb kann es nicht verwundern, daß gerade die Soldaten der Triumvirn, die Teil der harten Kämpfe um die politische Macht in Rom gewesen waren, sich als informiert über ihre Rechte als römische Bürger und als in der Lage erwiesen, ihre eigenen Interessen zu formulieren und durch Absprachen untereinander zu bündeln und gegenüber dem eigenen Befehlshaber wie auch anderen staatlichen Institutionen zur Sprache zu bringen. Ihr Sprachrohr bildeten dabei zweifellos die Zenturionen, die aufgrund ihres Professionalismus starken Einfluß auf die Masse der einfachen Legionäre und deren Meinungsbildung besaßen.111 Mithin waren diese Heere keineswegs bloße Werkzeuge ihrer jeweiligen Feldherren, sondern standen nicht selten in zeitweiligem Dissens mit ihnen.112 Woher rührte dieses große politische Selbstbewußtsein der Legionäre? Und es scheint mir sogar größer gewesen zu sein als das der zeitgenössischen Zivilisten, auch der stadtrömischen Bürger, die doch die Volksversammlungen zumeist beherrschten. Chrissanthos ist bei der seiner Analyse der Redefreiheit römischer Soldaten zu einem

107 Liv. 25,37,5 f. und 26,2,1 f., bes. 2: rem mali exempli esse imperatores legi ab exercitibus et sollemne auspicandorum comitiorum in castra et provincias procul ab legibus magistratibusque ad militarem temeritatem transferri Zum historischen Problem des tumultuarius dux, als der Marcius von Liv. 26,37,8 und 28,42,5 bezeichnet wird, vgl. Corbett 1971, 660 und Pabst 1997, 66–70. 108 Haimson Lushkov 2015, 118–127, zudem 98 f. Den „army-as-city topos“ im griechischen Bereich beleuchtet Hornblower 2004. 109 Zitat Raaflaub 1987, 254; ähnlich Pabst 1997, 57, die das ganze Unterkapitel II. 2 mit „Das Herr als Ort der politischen Willensbildung in der römischen Republik“ (54) überschreibt. – Allerdings wird bei Liv. 28,19,8 und 28,27,4 – in polemischer Absicht – klar zwischen civis und miles unterschieden. 110 Vgl. Rüpke 1990, 38 und Pabst 1997, 60 jeweils mit Quellen. Bei den erstmaligen Wahlen des Scipio Aemilianus und des Marius zum Konsul 147 bzw. 107 spielten offenbar eindringliche briefliche Wahlempfehlungen der Soldaten, die gerade unter ihnen vor Karthago bzw. in Africa dienten, an ihre Verwandten eine große Rolle. 111 Vgl. de Blois 2000. 112 Dies illustriert die lapidare Feststellung von Chrissanthos 2001, 75 (dort mit Belegen): „While the Civil War still raged, nine of Caesar’s ten veteran legions mutinied.“

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ähnlichen Ergebnis gelangt.113 Dies dürfte damit zusammenhängen, daß sich die meisten Legionäre – das sind seit den 40er Jahren die Neubürger aus Italien und der Gallia cisalpina, die erst nach dem Bundesgenossenkrieg das römische Bürgerrecht erhalten hatten – in den Aushebungen erstmals überhaupt als römische Bürger erfahren haben: Für sie stellte der aushebende Feldherr, dem sie den Eid, das sacramentum, geleistet hatten, mit seinen fasces die res publica dar, nicht der Senat oder die Komitien im fernen Rom, die sie kaum erlebt hatten.114 Die politischen Rituale in den contiones und verschiedenen Arten von comitia, die mit großer Regelmäßigkeit den Stadtrömern sowohl ihre bürgerliche Identität als auch ihre Stellung in der sozialen Hierarchie ins Bewußtsein riefen115, waren ihnen weitgehend fremd.116 Auch der Senat genoß bei den italischen Neubürgern keineswegs das hohe Ansehen als Verkörperung der res publica Romana, das ihm die Stadtrömer bis in die 50er Jahre hinein entgegenbrachten. Denn die Legionäre kannten spätestens seit dem Bundesgenossenkrieg nicht mehr das noch bis dato leidlich austarierte Kräfteverhältnis innerhalb der stadtrömischen Politik; sie wußten nicht, daß der Senat als Regulierungsorgan wirkte und die konkurrierenden Ansprüche der nobiles zu moderieren suchte und ein Imperiumsträger sich nach einer ein- oder gar mehrjährigen Provinzstatthalterschaft wieder in die senatorische Hierarchie einzufügen hatte.117 Da die Zwangsaushebungen bis in die frühe Prinzipatszeit beibehalten wurden, konnten selbst die zahlreichen Legionäre, die sich freiwillig gemeldet hatten, ihre Militärzeit als Dienst am Staat ansehen und sich so, was ihre Leistungen für die res publica betraf, den Zivilisten weit überlegen dünken. Denn die Armeezeit erschien keineswegs wie die Ausübung eines Berufes – auch wenn nicht wenige sie dazu machten –, sondern zuerst wie die Erfüllung einer zentralen Bürgerpflicht.118 Handfeste Anerkennung dafür erhielten die Legionäre von ihrem jeweiligen Befehlshaber in Form von Lob und

113 114

115 116 117

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Chrissanthos 2004, zusammenfassend 365: „Though these rights (sc. der freien Rede, W. B.) were passed from Rome to the camp, in camp they were expanded. Specifically, in some situations, the soldiers had more power in camp than their fellow-citizens had in Rome.“ Rosenstein 1999, 205; Jehne 2006, 257; 265 und Scheidel 2006, 220–223 betonen, wieviel stärker einem ausgehobenen Italiker in einer römischen Legion der eigene Bürgerstatus bewußt wurde als in den Volksversammlungen Roms. Prägnant Sherwin-White 1973, 171: „For the ordinary Italian the part played by the curia in the life of Cicero is filled by the army.“ Vgl. Jehne 2003. Vgl. Smith 1958, 69 Anm. 2 und Nicolet 1980, 147. Allerdings werden zahlreiche Bewohner (und somit auch spätere Legionäre) der Cisalpina einen ersten Einblick in die komplexe politische Gemengelage der Hauptstadt erhalten haben, da zu ihnen zuweilen sogar Amtsbewerber aus Rom reisten, um Wahlwerbung zu betreiben; Cic. Att. 1,1,2 (s. o. Anm. 40); Caes. BGall. 8,50. Dazu Millar 1998, 29 f.; 98; 189 f.; 207 f.; Chrissanthos 2004, 351; Bispham 2007, 434. Sherwin-White 1973, 234: „In the late Republican and Caesarian epoch the civitas retained its positive obligations, especially those of military service, for its holders.“ Zudem ebd. 171 f.: „The essential munus of the plain man is to serve his country – the patria civitatis pro qua mori debemus – as a soldier.“

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militärischen Auszeichnungen, von Sold, von Donativen, von Beute und womöglich von einer Ansiedlung nach Dienstende. Dieses hohe Selbstverständnis wurde noch dadurch befördert, daß in der lex Iulia aus dem Jahr 45, belegt in der Tabula Heracleensis, die Ableistung dreier Feldzüge als Reiter oder von sechsen als Fußsoldat zur Bedingung dafür gemacht wurde, um schon vor dem 30. Lebensjahr zum Duumvir, Quattuorvir oder in eine sonstige Amtsstellung in den römischen Munizipien gewählt werden zu können.119 Die militärische Hierarchie wies jedem Legionär seinen Platz exakt zu und stand so nicht nur in Konkurrenz, sondern aufgrund des immer stärker fortschreitenden Professionalismus gerade in den unteren und mittleren Rängen sogar in Konflikt zu der sozialen Hierarchie Roms. Basis jedoch auch der militärischen Hierarchie war und blieb das römische Bürgerrecht. Als Caesar in den 50er Jahren massenhaft insbesondere Bewohner der Gallia Cisalpina für seinen Krieg jenseits der Alpen rekrutierte, gewann er Legionäre, deren Status als römische Bürger von den meisten Stadtrömern, vor allem den nobiles, stark in Zweifel gezogen wurde. Verständlicherweise sahen viele Legionäre im Heer Caesars ihren Bürgerstatus mit dessen politischem Erfolg verbunden. Zudem erschwerte es die politische Arroganz vieler Oberschichtsangehöriger wie auch einfacher Stadtrömer120 den Bewohnern der Cisalpina wie überhaupt den italischen Neubürgern, sich mit dem Zentrum Rom und seinen Institutionen zu identifizieren. Caesar nutzte diese von vornherein gegebene Distanz seiner Legionäre, um sich selbst zum primären Bezugspunkt für deren bürgerliche Loyalität zu machen. Dies war aber erst bei Legionären möglich, die schon einige Jahre vom abgeschotteten Lagerleben im jenseitigen Gallien geprägt waren. Frisch ausgehobene Rekruten hätten sich hingegen noch stärker nach der traditionellen Autorität des Senats ausgerichtet.121

Tabula Heracleensis, (Text, Übersetzung und Kommentar bei Crawford 1996, 355–391, Nr. 24) Z. 89–91: quei minor annos (triginta) natus est erit, nei quis eorum post K(alendas) Ianuar(ias) secundas in municipio colonia praefectura Ilvir(atum) IIIIvir(atum) neve quem alium mag(istratum) petito neve capito neve gerito, nisei quei eorum stipendia equo in legione (tria) aut pedestria in legione (sex) fecerit … und nahezu wortgleich Z. 100 f. Sowohl die Kommentatoren der Tabula, C. Nicolet und M. Crawford, in Crawford 1996, 361 f.; 383 f. als auch Cébeillac-Gervasoni 1998, 57–60 gehen davon aus, daß der Autor der lex, Caesar, diese Bedingung aus früheren Gesetzen tralatizisch übernommen habe. Hingegen vermutet Bispham 2007, 419, daß diese eine Innovation Caesars darstellte, womit er für seine Veteranen, insbesondere die Zenturionen, die Rückkehr in die Heimatstädte attraktiv und den Eintritt in den lokalen Dekurionenstand leichter habe machen wollen. 120 Vgl. Balsdon 1979, 24 f.; Nicolet 1980, 132 f.; Williams 2001, 138; Keaveney 2007, 57 f. und Goldberg 2015, 156 f. Bestes Beispiel Cic. Phil. 8,9 (über die Legionäre des M. Antonius) homines agrestes, si homines illi ac non pecudes potius. 121 Illustrieren mag dies die – fiktive – Warnung des sterbenden Konsuls C. Vibius Pansa an Oktavian vor den frischen Rekruten nach dem Sieg über M. Antonius bei Mutina im April 43: App. BCiv. 3,76,310: τοὺς δὲ νεήλυδας εἰ μὲν καθέξεις λαβών, καὶ τούσδε σοι παραδώσω, εἰ δὲ τεθήπασι τὴν βουλὴν ἀμέτρως, ὅτι καὶ οἱ ἄρχοντες αὐτῶν φύλακες ἡμῖν ἐπέμφθησαν εἶναι. Vgl. de Blois 2007, 175; zum Kontext Kober 2000, 263–265. 119

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Die politische Sprengkraft der massenhaften Bürgerrechtsverleihung durch einen Einzelnen unterstreicht ein Brief mit politischen Ratschlägen an Caesar – ein Brief, der von den immer noch zahlreichen Verfechtern der Echtheit dem Historiographen Sallust zugeschrieben und in die Jahre 51 oder 50 v. Chr. datiert wird.122 Darin ist die Rede von der großen Furcht der Nobilität vor dem Entstehen einer Königsherrschaft, wenn eine gewaltige Menschenmasse, wie empfohlen durch Ansiedlung von Neu- und Altbürgern in Kolonien, das römische Bürgerrecht von einem einzigen erhalte.123 Caesar konnte in der Tat seine Soldaten zur klaren Parteinahme für sich bewegen, indem er die staatliche Legitimität fragmentierte.124 Dazu stellt er seinen Konflikt mit den Hardlinern im Senat um die Beendigung seiner Statthalterschaft in Gallien und Illyrien in den Jahren 50 und 49 als eine „ganz private Auseinandersetzung“ mit seinen persönlichen Feinden (inimici Caesaris) in Rom dar, die seine politische, ja sogar seine physische Existenz auslöschen wollten und dafür die Mehrheit der Senatoren instrumentalisierten.125 Angesichts ihrer strikten militärischen Leistungsstandards sahen es die Legionäre als geboten an, Caesar, der mit ihnen zusammen in Gallien so viel für den Staat geleistet habe, gegen diese ungerechtfertigten Ehrabschneidungen und existenzbedrohenden Angriffe zu verteidigen. Deshalb folgten sie ihrem Befehlshaber über den Rubikon. Durch die Flucht aus Rom und Italien im Jahr 49 hatten die meisten Senatoren sich und damit auch den Senat als Institution in den Augen von Caesars Legionären delegitimiert und damit die Zerschlagung staatlicher Autorität weiter befördert. Nach den Iden des März konnten die Caesarischen Feldherren in annähernd gleichem Ausmaß die Loyalität ihrer Legionäre gewinnen, nicht zuletzt weil die unverhohlene Feindseligkeit der Senatoren sie im Jahr 43 nach der zeitweiligen Zurückdrängung des M. Antonius und versuchten Kaltstellung Oktavians nach Mutina fürchten

122

Die Briefe des Sallust an Caesar identifiziert jüngst Santangelo 2012 (dort weitere Literatur) als rhetorische Übungsstücke aus 1. Jh. n. Chr. Bei ihm wie auch in der neueren Forschung allgemein hat sich, wie Samotta 2009, 18 Anm. 22 (dort weitere zahlreiche Literatur) treffend formuliert, „zumindest ein ‚Waffenstillstand‘ unter Annahme der von den Echtheitsgegnern akzeptierten Zeitnähe eines möglichen Fälschers durchgesetzt.“ 123 (Ps.-?)Sall. Ad Caes sen. 2,6,1: Sed non inscius neque inprudens sum, quom ea res agetur, quae saevitia quaeque tempestates hominum nobilium futurae sint, quom indignabuntur, omnia funditus misceri, antiquis civibus hanc servitutem inponi, regnum denique ex libera civitate futurum, ubi unius munere multitudo ingens in civitatem pervenerit Vgl. Luraschi 1996, 80; Samotta 2009, 267–269; Santangelo 2012, 41. 124 Zur Fragmentierung der Legitimität des res publica im 1. Jahrhundert vgl. Morstein-Marx/Rosenstein 2006, 632 f. und Hodgson 2017, 15; 199–203; 261 u. ö. Von Ungern-Sternberg 1998 beschreibt eindrücklich den Beginn dieser Legitimitätskrise in der Zeit von den Gracchen bis Sulla. Für die gesamte späte Republik stellt er fest (1998, 614), daß die Wendung einer Armee gegen das eigene Regierungszentrum „in Wahrheit darauf [gründete], daß die Soldaten das hergebrachte, selbstverständliche Vertrauen in die politischen Vorgänge in Rom, oder anders: in die zivile Regierungsgewalt vollständig verloren hatten.“ 125 Vgl. ausführlich Raaflaub 1974, 215 f.; 237–240; 281 f.; 284 f.; 291 f.; 304–306 (mit Stellenbelegen); Millar 1998, 207 f. sowie Morstein-Marx 2009, 122–135.

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ließ, die von Caesar in Aussicht gestellten Belohnungen und die Versorgung mit Land nicht mehr erhalten zu können. Nachdem die Triumvirn durch die Proskriptionen vom Ende des Jahres 43 den Senat folgerichtig als Widersacher einer Veteranenversorgung im besonderen und als politische Autorität im allgemeinen vollständig beseitigt hatten, gewannen die Legionäre eine bisher unbekannte Unabhängigkeit gegenüber ihren jeweiligen Befehlshabern in der Vertretung ihrer nun nicht mehr bestrittenen materiellen wie politischen Interessen. Um diese wahrnehmen zu können, war für sie die Vermeidung eines Bürgerkrieges zwischen den Heeren das oberste Gebot. Die erfolgreiche Vermittlung mehrerer Abkommen zwischen den rivalisierenden Triumvirn ließ gerade den beteiligten Legionären nicht-militärische Autoritäten völlig entbehrlich erscheinen, so daß sie zeitweilig gar eine „Republik ohne (zivile) Institutionen“126 als Zielpunkt der weiteren Entwicklung für möglich halten mochten. Daß römische Bürgersoldaten innerhalb von gerade einmal eineinhalb Jahrzehnten seit dem Jahr 49 ein solches Maß an politischer Autonomie gewinnen konnten, ist vor allem dem Umstand geschuldet, daß Caesar und den Triumvirn in ihren Heeren das gelungen ist, was in die Tat umzusetzen die römische Nobilität in den vorhergegangenen Jahrzehnten nicht einmal ansatzweise für nötig gehalten hatte: die ‚politische‘ Integration der Neubürger aus ganz Italien. Bibliographie Aigner 1974 = H. Aigner, Die Soldaten als Machtfaktor in der ausgehenden römischen Republik, Innsbruck Alföldy (Hg.) 2000 = G. Alföldy (Hg.), Kaiser, Heer und Gesellschaft in der römischen Kaiserzeit, Gedenkschrift E. Birley, Stuttgart Allély 2012 = A. Allély, La déclaration d’hostis sous la République romaine, Paris Alston 2002 = R. Alston, The Role of the Military in the Roman Revolution, in: Aquila Legionis 3, 7–41 Alston 2007 = R. Alston, The Military and Politics, in: Sabin/van Wees/Whitby (Eds.), 176–97 Amela Valverde 2002 = L. Amela Valverde, Las clientelas de Cneo Pompeyo Magno en Hispania, Barcelona Anson 2010 = E. M. Anson, The General’s Pre-battle Exhortation in Graeco-Roman Warfare, in: Greece & Rome 57, 304–18 Aricò Anselmo 2012 = G. Aricò Anselmo, Antiche regole procedurali e nuove prospettive per la storia dei comitia, Turin Balsdon 1979 = J. P. V. D. Balsdon, Romans and Aliens, London Beck u. a. (Eds.) 2011 = H. Beck u. a. (Eds.), Consul and Res Publica. Holding High Office in the Roman Republic, Cambridge Binder (Hg.) 1987 = G. Binder (Hg.), Saeculum Augustum, Bd. I: Herrschaft und Gesellschaft, Darmstadt 126

Den Hinweis wie den Ausdruck verdanke ich Hartmut Leppin (Frankfurt/Main).

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The Integration of domi nobiles at Rome A Case Study* Sema Karataş (Köln) 1. The Identification of domi nobiles1 The Roman Senate was always a place exclusively reserved for the Roman urban elite, at least at its inception. The members of this elite were referred to as the nobility, consisting of aristocratic families, which had for generations produced successful candidates for election to the various political offices.2 On these grounds, members of the aristocratic gentes considered themselves destined to hold public office. Therefore, admission to the Senate constituted the main marker of identity in the eyes of the political elite in the Roman Republic. Over the course of political and societal upheavals (such as conflicts between patricians and plebeians, the Social War and, finally, the rapid expansion of Rome in Italy and the western Mediterranean during the fourth and third centuries BC), access to political and religious offices and with it seats in the Senate were eventually granted to citizens of other Italian communities. However, this development – that is the inclusion of Italian elites in the Roman nobility – occurred under the disapproving gaze of the aristocratic elite based in Rome. A poignant example of this development is the acceptance of the status of homines novi – social climbers in Rome’s political arena who were the first of their gens to be admitted to the Senate.3 *

1 2 3

Some of the following material derives from papers given at Wittenberg, and Cologne in 2015. I owe thanks to K.-J. Hölkeskamp for the original impetus for this article on domi nobiles, to R. Roth and H. Beck for their critical and productive feedback. I also owe thanks to F. Santangelo for his suggestion that the case of the Roscii could even be more significant while tracing and investigating the phenomenon of the domi nobiles. Cf. Badel 2005, 46–50; esp. 48–49: L’identification des domi nobiles: entre regard romain et réalités locales. Hölkeskamp 2011, 204 f. There is no ancient definition of the term homo novus. Modern research still grapples with an adequate definition. However, an overview is presented by van der Blom 2010, 36–41. The most important point of distinction between a nobilis and a homo novus was the absence of any successful Roman politician in the ancestry of the latter. See Brunt 1982; Gruen 1996; Wiseman 1971.

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Homines novi not only lacked a prestigious family name inherited from generations of successful political actors; they were also frequently outsiders to the political life in the capital. The social status of these climbers nevertheless guaranteed them certain privileges in their respective municipia that were similar to the ones the members of the established political elite enjoyed in Rome. Here, however, they also saw themselves confronted with the hostility of the old nobility, owing to their respective municipal origin: they were insulted as foreigners, their status as free-born citizens was called into question, and their matrimonial ties were scorned.4 While there are several studies on homines novi,5 ethnic identity of the people of Italy,6 the case of Romanization or the broad field of integration of the Italian people during the time of the Roman Republic,7 the subject of the domi nobiles (that is municipal aristocracy) has received surprisingly little attention in those scholarly treatments.8 In this respect, an observation made some years ago by T. P. Wiseman is of interest here: “Men who at Rome appeared as upstarts, ignoti homines et repentini, might well be aristocrats in their home towns, the heirs to generations of wealth and pride. We must think of them not as “new men”, but as domi nobiles.”9 Even though Wiseman is correct in characterizing the domi nobiles as men of aristocratic ranks in their own hometowns, that is municipia, I should like to highlight some differences that exist between his position and mine. First of all, domi nobiles were treated as homines novi by the long-established nobility at Rome, as soon as they tried to gain a magistracy in the urbs aeterna – despite their status as municipal aristocrats who had already hold offices in their own hometowns. Moreover, the term domi nobiles was not exclusively reserved for local aristocrats in Italy but also outside. This article will investigate the social and political situation of domi nobiles during the late Roman Republic. How could the domi nobiles get involved with the nobility in Rome? Where did the advantages and disadvantages of their distance from Rome lie? Were the local ties and identities of potential candidates of any consequence? Furthermore, I will support my thesis by investigating not the famous cases of M. Tullius

4

5 6 7 8 9

Farney 2007, 10–11. See also how Cicero was attacked on the grounds of being a foreigner by the patrician L. Manlius Torquatus (consul 65 BC); Cic. Sull. 22: At hic etiam, id quod tibi necesse minime fuit, facetus esse voluisti, cum Tarquinium et Numam et me tertium peregrinum regem esse dixisti Mitto iam de rege quarere; illud quaero peregrinum cur me esse dixeris (…)“Hoc dico,” inquit, “te esse ex municipio ” / At this point too you were pleased, quite unnecessarily, to be funny when you said that there were three foreign tyrants, Tarquin, Numa, and myself. I am not going to ask now about this word “tyrant”, but I do ask why you said that I was a foreigner. (…) “I mean”, he says, “that you came from an Italian borough.” Wiseman 1971. Farney 2007. Bradley 2007; Roth/Keller 2007; Jehne/Pfeilschifter 2006, cf. however Mouritsen 1998. F. Santangelo’s essay on municipal men in this volume corresponds with my work on domi nobiles in many points. We both focus on the case of Cn. Plancius as an example for a municipal man. Wiseman 1987, 297.

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Cicero, C. Marius (both domi nobiles from the municipium Arpinum)10 or perhaps even the case of the gens Octavia but the case of the unknown aedile of 54 BC, Cn. Plancius.11 The term domi nobiles as specifically referring to a group of nobles who were not genuinely based in Rome or even in Italy appears in our sources only after the uprising of the socii against Rome from 91–89 BC. In 70 BC, in his invective against C. Verres, Cicero refers to the following incident which occurred between Verres and a local magistrate in Sicyon, a city on the Gulf of Corinth. After Verres demanded payments, his request was denied by the unknown magistrate. The following punishment was nothing uncommon or without any precedent, according to Cicero, but the terms of punishment were deemed to be severely cruel: “He (Verres) ordered a fire of moist green wood to be made in a confined spot: and there this free-born man (hominem ingenuum), a man of high rank in his own town (domi nobilem), one of the allies and friends of Rome (populi Romani socium atque amicum), was put through the agonies of suffocation, and left there more dead than alive.”12

The local magistrate Cicero refers to clearly belonged to the elite in his hometown Sicyon and is identified as an ally and a friend of Rome. These two characteristics made Verres’s actions against the local aristocrat such a serious matter that Cicero in fact classified it as worthy of mentioning in the court room. Interestingly enough, Cicero levels this sort of accusation as if the man were a Roman citizen: in other cases, he severely censures Verres’s actions, accusing him of ignoring the rights of Roman citizens to provocatio and of illegally subjecting them to corporal punishment. The incident was cited in front of the jury in order clearly to display the former praetor’s character. Here we have a case of a domi nobilis from Sicyon, supporting the suggestion that the description domi nobiles was not in particular reserved for local aristocrats in Italy. Some years later, in his defense speech for A. Cluentius Habitus in 66 BC, Cicero again mentions the domi nobiles. Here he refers to the Aurii from Larinum – also the hometown of the defendant himself – a municipium incorporated in the tribus Clustumina.13 While introducing the case of Oppianicus, Cicero mentions M. Aurius, claiming that he too had been murdered by Oppianicus. To support his claim, Cicero mentioned a relative of the deceased, A. Aurius: “One Aulus Aurius, a man of courage, enterprise, and noble birth (vir fortis et experiens et domi nobilis) and a near relation of the missing man, read out this letter in the Forum

10 11 12 13

Taylor 1960, 272. F. Münzer, RE 40,2 (1950) 2013–2015 s. v. Cn. Plancius (no. 4). Cic. Verr. 2.1.45: Ignem ex lignis viridibus atque humidis in loco angusto fieri iussit; ibi hominem ingenuum, domi nobilem, populi Romani socium atque amicum, fumo excruciatum semivivum reliquit Taylor 1960, 271.

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before a large audience in the presence of Oppianicus, saying in a loud voice that he would prosecute Oppianicus if he found that Marcus Aurius had been murdered.”14

In comparison to the first example, the term domi nobilis here refers to an individual as well as to a gens in Italy. The most important fact was that these men belonged to the upper socio-political elite in their hometowns. A further mentioning of the domi nobiles confirms this assumption. In the “de coniuratione Catilinae” 17,4 (written around 42/41 BC) C. Sallustius Crispus enumerates the names of Catiline’s followers from the senatorial and equestrian ordines. A third group of men are described as follows: “To that assembly there came from the senatorial order Publius Lentulus Sura, Publius Autronius, Lucius Cassius Longinus, Gaius Cethegus, Publius and Servius Sulla, sons of Servius, Lucius Vargunteius, Quintus Annius, Marcus Porcius Laeca, Lucius Bestia, Quintus Curius; besides from the equestrian order, Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, Lucius Statilius, Publius Gabinius Capito, Gaius Cornelius; in addition there were many men from the colonies and towns of Italy, men of high standing locally (domi nobiles).”15

Apart from the Senators and equestres, Catiline’s cause was also backed by men of influence from the coloniae and municipia. Sallust describes these men as domi nobiles. Even though they were men from high ranks in their own native cities, Sallust does not mention either their names or the cities they came from – perhaps because they were not known to him, were regarded as not important enough or insignificant in number. Whatever the reasons, there is a clear hierarchy between these three social groups of Senators, equites and domi nobiles. Still, they clearly belonged to the clientele of Catiline. The three sources on domi nobiles as a group of local aristocrats in and outside of Italy mentioned above are originally from the late Roman Republic. But even some generations later, Curtius Rufus applies the term domi nobiles in his work “Historiae Alexandri Magni Macedonis” – that likely originated under the first Flavian emperor Vespasian (69–79 AD) – while referring to local elites in Greece: “There were captured with these the Lacedaemonians and Athenians who had violated their pledge of alliance and followed the Persians: Aristogiton and Dropides and Iphicrates, by far the most renowned among the Athenians for birth and reputation, the Lace-

14

15

Cic. Clu. 23: Quas litteras A. Aurius, vir fortis et experiens et domi nobilis et M. illius Auri perpropinquus, in foro, palam, multis audientibus, cum adesset Oppianicus, recitat et clarissima voce se nomen Oppianici, si interfectum M Aurium esse comperisset, delaturum esse testatur. Further notice on the local aristocrats of Larinum: Cic. Clu. 109: (…) in municipio suo nobilem (…); and 196. Sall. Cat. 17.4: Eo convenere senatorii ordinis P Lentulus Sura, P Autronius, L Cassius Longinus, C Cethegus, P et Ser Sullae Ser filii, L Vargunteius, Q Annius, M Porcius Laeca, L Bestia, Q Curius; praeterea ex equestri ordine M Fulvius Nobilior, L Statilius, P Gabinius Capito, C Cornelius; ad hoc multi ex coloniis et municipiis domi nobiles.

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daemonians Pasippus and Onomastorides with Onomas and Callicratides, these also men of note at home (domi nobiles).”16

In this particular context, Curtius Rufus uses the term domi nobiles for local aristocrats in the time of Alexander the Great, whether because he was lacking another term or because his affinity to late Republican usage influenced him in his choice of terminology. On the basis of the above-mentioned evidence, domi nobiles as a terminus technicus stands for men who belonged to the upper echelons of the societies in their own home towns in and outside of Italy, who held local magistracies, participated in local politics, and even took part in Roman affairs either as followers and clients of Roman politicians or as Roman magistrates themselves. This eventually means that these local aristocrats had considerable financial assets at their disposal. The desire of the domi nobiles – C. Nicolet characterizes them as “les citoyens importants”17 – actively to participate in Roman politics could not be frustrated on formal grounds at least after 70 BC.18 And their socio-political backgrounds must have encouraged them. In order to understand the point of departure of the domi nobiles, a close look at the channels and media of communication is important. There is little doubt that personal acquaintance with the Roman nobility constituted the most important factor in their endeavor to establish, or at least enable, connections and friendships with influential politicians.19 These kinds of connections could be in a patron-client relation between neighbors, especially because the Roman aristocracy typically resided in their villae outside of Rome during the summer, or as in-laws by marriage or adoption.20 Any of these ties were essential to local politicians in their ambitions to pursue public careers in Rome. Even though the domi nobiles played prominent parts in their hometowns most of them were unknown to ordinary citizens in Rome. The need for personal and political backup was most important to such local politicians who were trying to make it in Rome. These bilateral relationships constituted a social framework in which the local and the Roman aristocracy interacted21 – a phenomenon the importance of which has been emphasized by modern theories of networking.22 Still, the disadvantages of domi nobiles should not be underestimated, especially with regard to their spatial dis16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Curt. 3.13.15: Lacedaemonii et Athenienses, societatis fide violata, Persas secuti: Aristogiton et Dropides et Iphicrates, inter Athenienses genere famaque longe clarissimi, Lacedaemonii Pasippus et Onomastorides cum Onomante et Callicratide, hi quoque domi nobiles. Nicolet 1959, 147. Roselaar 2016, 145. See again Sall. Cat. 17.4 or the case of the Roscii from Ameria. Concerning friendship, marriage, and the importance of hospitium between the Italian ruling class and the nobility in Rome see especially Patterson 2006, 139–154; Beck 2015, 57–72. Wiseman 1971, 30, 32, 50; see also Patterson 2006, 140–143, 147. Rollinger 2014; reviewed by Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp: Christian Rollinger, Amicitia sanctissime colenda. Freundschaft und soziale Netzwerke in der Späten Republik, in: Sehepunkte 15 (2015), no. 2.

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tance to the political center, their municipal heritage, their marriage alliances and their wealth. Moreover, it was by no means unimportant whether or not a man had come by his wealth bono modo.23 In addition to these social disadvantages, there were political drawbacks for aspiring municipal politicians in Rome, which can be traced back to the general conservatism of the Roman nobility as much as, if not even more so, of the Roman electorate. Guided by patrons and universally accepted hierarchies, traditions and ideological orientations, voters seem to have favored long-established gentes. Yet, Wiseman seems to leave one aspect aside in his analysis on homines novi. After 140 BC, a range of laws was passed that introduced secret voting by tablets (tabellae), allegedly to counter the effects of manipulation in public voting through dependency and bribery. Likewise, the lex Gabinia tabellaria in 139 BC introduced the secret vote in the elections of higher magistrates.24 Consequently, voters were able to exercise their right to vote without supervision from their patrons.25 So, how could domi nobiles overcome these obstacles? And which qualifications would they have to exhibit? First and foremost among these was wealth. Proof of a certain amount of money or other tangible assets was the most important factor. It is safe to assume that a consul’s standard of living was high. The ‘moderate’ positions such as quaestores and tribunes may not have required the means needed to finance a campaign for the consulship. Men like C. Verres and C. Iulius Caesar (with Caesar certainly being the most prominent example), whose ambition widely exceeded their financial clout, were dependent on monetary loans in the hope of provincial command, which could refill their private coffers. Every ambitious candidate from the municipia had to show financial security.26 However, money was not everything. No one, whether from Rome or an Italian town, had the financial means to bribe every tribus or every centuria in the comitia. For an unknown politician from a municipium who lacked famous politically or militarily successful ancestors, there was an even more important criterion: vast knowledge of law, or excellence as an orator.27

23 24 25

26 27

Plin. HN 7.139–140: (…) pecuniam magnam bono modo invenire (…). Schneider 2000, 290; Rotondi 1962, 297. For the act of voting per tabellam concerning first the technical changes in the procedure, secondly its reasons and last but not least its results see also Lundgreen 2009, who is arguing against the assumed influence of the secret voting on the political life in Rome. He strongly argues that the leges tabellariae did not make a great change in the sequence nor in the results of the votes per tabellam. Furthermore, he brings forward the argument that the laws concerning the secret voting could not be used as arguments, evidence or indication of political changes in the res publica. Either way, the leges tabellariae still raise questions in the context of the legal history of the Roman Republic. Cf. Jehne 1993; Gruen 1991, 257–261; Yakobson 1995. Wiseman 1971, 116 f. This criterion is also mentioned in the oratio pro Cn Plancio The prosecutors pointed out that Cn. Plancius from the praefectura Atina was not a suitable candidate for the aedileship because he neither had good knowledge of the laws nor was a talented orator: Cic. Planc. 62. But the case of

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Finally, the third qualification: individual decorations in war, as shown by the example of Caius Marius, himself a famous homo novus/domi nobilis. This final factor seems to have been the most decisive for the political climber, since he could gain acceptance by the nobiles through distinction and prowess in the military and establish useful patron-client relationships. The transition from a municipium to Rome could prove difficult for a domi nobilis. Several factors, individually or in combination, could hinder a candidate from climbing the ladder. Such circumstances may have motivated the following words by Cicero: “Surely I think that he and all natives of Italian towns (omnibus municipibus) have two fatherlands (duas patrias), one by nature and the other by citizenship. Cato, for example, though born in Tusculum, received citizenship in Rome, and so, as he was Tusculan by birth and a Roman by citizenship, had one fatherland which was the place of his birth, and another by law”.28

Cicero seems to assume that men like Cato, and naturally he himself were drawn from their hometowns to Rome. But despite considerable achievements their municipal origin was very present in their reputation with the populace. In fact, they were constantly reminded of their municipal origin by their fellow-members on the political stage in Rome as the following quote will clarify: “He taunts the son of Caius Caesar with the meanness of his birth, though his actual father too would have been a consul had his life lasted. ‘His mother was from Aricia’ – you might think he was speaking of a woman from Tralles or Ephesus! Mark how all of us who come from country boroughs are looked down upon – I mean absolutely all; for how few of us do not so come?”29

This passage in the Philippics refers to an attack by Antony on the young Octavian: Not only was his biological father not a nobilis, but – and this seems to be of more importance – his mother was moreover from the municipium of Aricia. Later in his

28 29

the Caepasii shows that talent in the special field of oratory could be of use for upstarts. The two brothers C. and L. Caepasius were domi nobiles from Spoletium in Umbria. We learn from Cicero in Brut. 242: “To the same time belonged the brothers Gaius and Lucius Caepasius, who through untiring effort, though newcomers and quite unknown, rose quickly to the rank of quaestor; their style of speaking was provincial and without form.” Despite their manner of speaking the brothers were advocates to C. Fabricius in 74 BC when he was prosecuted by A. Cluentius Habitus: see Cic. Clu. 57; also Alexander 1990, 74 (no. 148). Syme/Santangelo 2016, 317 on the Caepasii as “municipal orators”; F. Münzer, RE 3,1 (1897) 1279 s. v. Caepasius. Cic. Leg. 2.5: Ego mehercule et illi et omnibus municipibus duas esse censeo patrias, unam naturae, alteram civitatis, ut ille Cato, cum esset Tusculi natus, in populi Romani civitatem susceptus est; ita, cum ortu Tusculanus esset, civitate Romanus, habuit alteram loci patriam, alteram iuris; see also Farney 2007, 5–6. Cic. Phil. 3.15–17: Ignobilitatem obicit C. Caesaris filio, cuius etiam natura pater, si vita suppeditasset, consul factus esset. “Aricia mater.” Trallianam aut Ephesiam putes dicere. Videte, quam despiciamur omnes, qui sumus e municipiis, id est omnes plane; quotus enim quisque nostrum non est?

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invective, Cicero reminds Anthony of the fact that his own mother was from Fregellae. So not only were the municipales (domi nobiles) looked down upon by the Roman nobiles, but members of the nobility also scorned their peers who cultivated relations or were in steady contact with the domi nobiles of Italy.30 A similar statement has been passed down about Quintus Ennius, who gained Roman citizenship in 184 BC, from a distinct non-senatorial perspective. He came from Messapia, a region that came into contact with the Oscan and Greek languages: “Quintus Ennius used to say that he had three hearts, because he knew how to speak Greek, Oscan, and Latin.”31 G. D. Farney analyses the statement in the following manner: “In light of the ‘nested’ nature of Roman (and indeed Italian) identity, however, perhaps we should see his self-description as both literary and cultural-ethnic, not dissimilar to Cicero’s. To account for this tripartite self-identification, one would note that Ennius was a Roman citizen from a locally powerful family of Messapian Rudiae who possessed a Hellenic legendary genealogy and presumably south Italian and Greek tastes and interests.”32

One can safely assume that the consistent spatial separation from the center of politics reduced the possibility of a successful candidacy for an aspirant from a municipium. Roman politics were negotiated in Rome. The candidate’s presence and visibility in Rome and on the political stage was indispensable, especially for a social climber who could not draw on the merits of his ancestors and whose name did not sound familiar to the Romanus populus that awarded the honores. If one was to compete for an office, one would have to be present in Rome33 – as it also was required by law. Certainly, this did not induce aspiring domi nobiles (on their way to becoming homines novi) to break off relations with their respective hometowns but rather to strengthen existing ties for benefits in the next cycle of elections. For example, Quintus Tullius Cicero advised his ambitious brother Marcus during his campaign for the consulship in 63 BC to be aware of the following facts: “I am ‘new’; I seek the consulship.” There remains the third, “This is Rome” – a conglomerate of nations, (…)”.34 Quintus’ piece of advice reads like a warning to his brother to be aware “that the politics of ethnic identity loomed over the competitive political climate of the capital, especially for a ‘new’ politician.”35 The list of criteria that Farney established to depict ethnic identity can also be applied to the analysis of ‘local identity’, especially to the case of domi nobiles. The criteria include the following points: a collective name, a myth

30 31 32 33 34 35

See for the viri municipales Santangelo 2019 (in this volume); Farney 2007, 9. Gell. NA 17: Quintus Ennius tria corda habere sese dicebat, quod loqui Graece et Osce et Latine sciret. Especially Schlange-Schöningen 2006, 168. Farney 2007, 7–8. Linke 2006, 72. Cicero Comment pet 54: “novus sum, consulatum peto” tertium restat: “Roma est,” civitas ex nationum conventu constituta, (…). Farney 2007, 10–11.

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of common descent, a shared history, a distinctive shared culture, an association with a specific territory, and a sense of communal solidarity.36 2. The Case of Cn. Plancius To exemplify the above-mentioned difficulties a domi nobilis had to overcome while trying to start a political career in Rome, the case of a certain Cn. Plancius is worthwhile. As the son of a relatively successful publicanus he was one of the quaestores in 58 BC in the province Macedonia under the command of the propraetor L. Appuleius Saturninus. Only two years later, in 56 BC, Plancius obtained the position of a tribunus plebis. His campaign for the aedileship in 55 BC was likewise successful. After the elections however, he was prosecuted by the defeated candidate M. Iuventius Laterensis,37 and was defended by Cicero in court.38 As the Republican aristocracy was mainly recruited from the regions of Latium, Sabinum, and Etruria, Cn. Plancius was a domi nobilis from the former praefectura Atina,39 the later municipium of the tribus Teretina in the region Latium.40 The younger Plancius’s success depended amongst other factors on his father’s activity as a publicanus as Wiseman stated: “Cn. Plancius of Atina was ‘princeps publicanorum’, and the members of the many commercial companies which he founded or managed gave his son invaluable help at elections; (…)”.41 Cn. Plancius of Atina was the father of Cn. Plancius who competed for the office of aedilis in Rome in the year 55 BC. The former’s connections as leading representative of the publicans seems to have helped his son’s race for aedileship. Apparently the publicani had voted for the elder Plancius in 61 BC – during the consulate of M. Pupius Piso Frugi Calpurnianus and M. Valerius Messala Niger – to be their representative in the negotiations with the Senate. From 61 to 59 BC the elder Plancius was the spokesman for the tax farmers trying to convince the majority of the Senate to cut the lease amount for the province of Asia.42 These negotiations were not successful, until C. Iulius Caesar gained the consulship in 59 BC. Caesar brought the case to an end by passing over the Senate and bringing the matter directly before the comitia. Naturally the outcome of the vote in the comitia was in favor of the publicani and the lease amount for the province Asia was reduced by one-third. According to Cicero it was in fact the elder Cn. Plancius who had cast his vote first of all: “nam quod primus scivit legem de publicanis”.43 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Farney 2007, 27–28. F. Münzer, RE 20,2 (1919) 1365–1367 s. v. M. Iuventius Laterensis (no. 16). F. Münzer, RE 40,2 (1950) 2013–2015 s. v. Cn. Plancius (no. 4); Alexander 1990, 142 (no. 293). Cic. Planc. 8. Taylor 1960, 270, 333 f. Wiseman 1971, 136. Broughton 1952, 189; Badian 1972, 111; Badian 1997, 129 f., 152 f. Cic. Planc. 35.

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The name Cn. Plancius was therefore mentioned in the preamble of the lex Iulia de publicanis of 59 BC44 and thus directly connected to the name of C. Iulius Caesar himself. Therefore, a close connection between Caesar and both of the Plancii from Atina may be taken for granted. Keeping one of the earlier mentioned criteria in mind that the domi nobiles had to have political ties and backup in Rome itself this was certainly true in the case of the younger Cn. Plancius. Moreover, the candidates’ presence in Rome was necessary, but relations to their hometowns could not be neglected as they contributed greatly to success in elections. The candidates were eager to convince members of their respective praefectura or municipium to come to Rome on election days and cast their vote. Similarly, this seems to have been the case with Cn. Plancius. We learn from Cicero: “So my client, in the first place, was backed by the ardent partisanship of his townsfolk, while yours backed you no more than was to be expected of men who are already surfeited with distinctions. In the second place, your fellow-burgesses, highly distinguished though they undoubtedly are, are a mere handful compared with those of Atina: while my client’s prefecture is packed with high-hearted gentlemen, in such numbers as cannot be demonstrably surpassed in any other in all Italy. You see them thronging this court today, gentlemen of the jury, they have come in the grab and guise of mourners to appeal for your mercy. Must not so many Roman knights, so many tribunes of the treasury, – not to mention the proletariat, who were present to a man at the election, and who have been dismissed from this court, – must not all these have lent vast material and moral support to my client’s candidature?”45

Accordingly, the mobilization of the populace in the prefecture of Atina as well as in the surrounding towns must have been extraordinary, substantially increasing the younger Plancius’ chances of victory. Moreover, the surrounding towns were not only Arpinum, Ciceros hometown, who had of course supported the candidacy of his client and friend Plancius, but also the municipia Sora, Casinum, Aquinum, Venafrum and Allifae, who had all been proud, according to Cicero, to see one of their own gaining a magistracy in Rome. K. Lomas aptly describes this kind of solidarity between the municipia as the “emotive power of vicinitas”.46 The by far largest group of men who were present at court supporting Plancius were members of the ordo equester, to whom the Plancii themselves 44 45

46

Rotondi 1962, 391. Cic. Planc. 21: Primum igitur hic habuit studia suorum ardentia: tu tanta, quanta in hominibus iam saturatis honoribus esse potuerunt. Deinde tui municipes, sunt illi quidem splendidissimi homines, sed tamen pauci, si quidem cum Atinatibus conferatur. Huius praefectura plena virorum fortissimorum, sic ut nulla tota Italia frequentior dici possit. Quam quidem nunc multitudinem videtis, iudices, in squalor et luctu supplicem vobis. Hi tot equites Romani, tot tribune aerarii (nam plebem a iudicio dimisimus, quae cuncta comitiis adfuit), quid roboris, quid dignitatis huius petitioni attulerunt? Lomas 2004, 112: “This passage (i. e. Cic. Planc. 21–22) indicates in particular the emotive power of vicinitas”; again, concerning vicinitas and hospitium Lomas 2012, 198–202.

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belonged, and tribuni aerarii. But as we learn from Cicero, these men were not the only group to be present during the trial against the young Cn. Plancius. Not only men from the remote towns of Italy but men in the center of the res publica supported the defendant Plancius. Distinguished members of the Senate, men of influence and recognized reputation displayed their solidarity with the young aedile: Cn. Appuleius Saturninus, T. Torquatus, C. Sacerdos, L. Flaccus and most importantly Q. Caecilius Metellus Creticus.47 In contrast to the support for Plancius, the prosecutor M. Iuventius Laterensis was merely backed by his own municipales from Tusculum or the neighboring municipia of Labicum, Gabii and Bovillae. These communities were sparsely populated, shabby suburban towns, according to Cicero, which could or would not even participate in the feriae Latinae of the year 55/54 BC let alone in the elections or display any kind of interest in M. Iuventius Laterensis.48 Eventually, such an argumentation by the defense counsel indicates that neither the vicinity to Rome nor the popularity of a candidate could ensure the election to office and personal standing in the res publica. Given those references to regionality and locality, it is evident that regional and local networks through patronage, business, active membership and participation in certain clubs (that is collegia and sodalitates) were crucial during elections.49 In contrast to Cn. Plancius and the support he had received from Atina and the surrounding towns, the orator describes the situation of M. Iuventius Laterensis in his municipium Tusculum as follows: “You are a native of the ancient corporate town (municipio antiquissimo) of Tusculum, which numbers among its inhabitants more families of consular rank (among them that of the Juventii) than all the other corporations (municipiis) put together; while my client is from the prefecture (praefectura) Atina, which is neither so ancient, nor so distinguished in its sons, nor so accessible from the city. What weight as regards electoral prospects would you wish to be assigned to this difference? Which, in the first place, do you think are the more ardent supporters of their fellow townsmen – the people of Atina or those of Tusculum? The former (as I am enabled to know from being a near neighbour of theirs) showed intense delight when they saw the father of the excellent and distinguished Gnaeus Saturninus, who is with us in the court, appointed first to introduce the curule dignity not merely into his family, but into the prefecture”.50

47 48 49 50

Cic. Planc. 11; 19; 27; 61. Cic. Planc. 23. See Cicero, Comment. pet. 19 on the importance of the sodalitates during the elections. Cic. Planc. 19: Tu es ex municipio antiquissimo Tusculano, ex quo plurimae familiae sund consulares, in quibus est etiam Iuventia – tot e reliquis municipiis omnibus non sunt – hic est e praefectura Atinati, non tam prisca, non tam honorata, non tam suburbana. Quantum interesse vis ad rationem petendi? Primum utrum magis favere putas Atinates, an Tusculanos, suis? Alteri (scire enim hoc propter vicinatem facile possum) cum huius ornatissimi atque optimi vir, Cn. Saturnini, patrem aedilem, cum praetorem viderunt, quod primus ille non modo in eam familiam, sed etiam in praefecturam illam, sellam curulem atulisset, mirandum in modum laetati sunt.

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Comparing these two statements and taking Ciceros statements at face value, one may conclude that voter participation in favor of its respective candidate decreased in municipia that were accustomed to success. The municipium Tusculum indeed brought forth many successful magistrates.51 But it seems that the participation and interest of the municipales at least for the elections to the lower magistracies (aediles and quaestores) had been low. On the other hand, it seems clear that the citizens of the prefecture Atina showed extraordinary support for Cn. Plancius. Unfortunately, Cn. Plancius was not the first magistrate who had brought the sella curulis in to his prefectura Atina. According to Farney it had been the Sentii Saturnini from Atina in the early 90s BC who had achieved the rank of the praetorship.52 In a further step Cicero summarizes the reasons why Plancius succeeded over M. Iuventius Laterensis who belonged to the nobility at Rome: “Can you wonder, then, at the election to the office of aedile of one who thought in some respects he may be inferior to yourself, in respect, I mean, of name and fame, is nevertheless your superior in the support given to him by his townsfolk, his neighbours, and his business partners, and in his association with me in the crisis of my life, is your equal in virtue, incorruptibility, and self-mastery, and is adorned with every quality which lends intrinsic as well as extrinsic worth?”53

As Cicero admits, Plancius lacked a well-known nomen gentile and of course the fame and prestige that came with it. This, as mentioned earlier, was an obstacle for domi nobiles but clearly one that could be counterbalanced by the support of his townsfolk (municipales), neighboring municipia (vicinitas), his partners in the societates and his friends in Rome. In this context Cicero refers – as so often in his defense speech on behalf of Plancius – to his exile in 58 BC. It was his client Cn. Plancius who offered shelter to the exiled former consul in his quaestorium in Macedonia/Thessaloniki and protected him.54 The association between the younger Plancius and Cicero seems to have been a significant advantage in his election campaign. Not only Plancius’ friends, townsmen, and business partners (especially those of his father), but also all of Cicero’s supporters and clients seemed to have favored Plancius instead of his adversary Laterensis. The importance of the connection with influential men in Rome again proves to a be a significant advantage for ambitious local aristocrats. 51 52

53 54

Cic. Planc. 19–20; Farney 2007, 46; Taylor 1960, 273. Wiseman 1971, 260; Farney 2007, 46; Broughton 1986, 191. Taylor 1960, 275 only traces the following 4 magistrates for the tribus Teretina i. e. praefectura Atina: Alfius Flavus, Appuleius Saturninus, one Arruntius and Cn. Plancius. The above mentioned Sentii Saturninii were not listed. Broughton registers the Sentii Saturninii only in the Suppl. III 1986 in addition to the vol. I and II of the MRR. Cic. Planc. 30: Omnibus igitur rebus ornatum homines, tam externis, quam demesticis; nonnullis rebus inferiorem, quam te, generis, dico, et nominis: superiorem aliis, municipium, vicinorum, societatem studio, temporum meorum memoria; parem virtute, integratate, modestia, aedilem factum esse miraris? Gelzer 1969, 135–141.

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The prospect of domi nobiles to gain access to the Roman Senate via the cursus honorum was obviously tied to much effort. Establishing status there – once the hurdle was passed – required even more strength. Wiseman summarizes the social problems and discrimination against the local aristocrats or social climbers in the following manner: “Now domiciled in Rome, they might carry on or even expand their commercial and financial interests – but with disadvantage. The influence of the antique Catonian ideal, however grotesquely inapposite in the conditions of the late Republic, was still powerful, and gave their rivals and invidi an opening to attack them when they turned to public life. It was all too easy to represent them to the voters of the tribal assembly as usurious parasites battening on the sufferings of the poor, or – more commonly and much less justly – to senatorial audience as shabby tradesmen or horny-handed sons of toil.”55 Or to put it in Syme’s words and thus from another perspective: “And it is not likely that many of the domi nobiles in Umbria, or, for want of matter, in Etruria, were eager to forfeit the comfort of their traditional estate for the dubious prizes of a political career in a city where nobles and plebs alike would scorn them as aliens and upstarts.”56 The Plancii, plebeians within the ordo equester, clearly belonged to the upper class in their praefectura Atina. The elder Plancius in his position as a publicanus maintained not only relations to different societates but was also on good terms with men who belonged to the political elite in Rome, namely L. Appuleius Saturninus, C. Iulius Caesar, and M. Tullius Cicero. The younger Cn. Plancius was the first man in his family who had gained an office in Rome, that is the quaestorship in 58 BC. Though a social climber, he was still privileged in comparison to other ambitious domi nobiles: he was able to draw on existing ties to the political upper class in Rome who had supported his aspirations, he was even related to the Appuleii Saturnini,57 and his father had the financial assets to back his son’s political aims. According to Cicero, his candidacy for the position of curule aedile was supported not only by the citizens of Atina but also by many of the surrounding municipia. 3. Conclusion While the term domi nobiles as specifically referring to a group of nobles who were not genuinely based in Rome or even in Italy appears in our sources only after the uprising of the socii against Rome from 91–89 BC, local aristocrats first from Latium later from Italy in general had been present on the political stage of Rome before – especially since the Republican aristocracy was mainly recruited from the regions of Latium, Sabinum, and Etruria. Despite their status as local aristocrats domi nobiles were frequently 55 56 57

Wiseman 1971, 82. Syme/Santangelo 2016, 302. Cic. Planc. 27–28.

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treated as outsiders of the political life in the capital. If they finally did succeed in their ambitions to ascend into the upper echelons of Rome, their municipal origin was very present in their reputation with the populace. In fact, they were constantly reminded of their municipal origin by their fellow-members on the political stage in Rome. For these reasons the steady contact with their hometowns not only turned out to be an advantage for prospective candidates, but could indeed be essential. Aspiring candidates from the municipia and praefecturae depended on personal and private resources in the form of familial, as well as social relationships, patron-client connections and financial backing as they were not able to rely on the name recognition, prestige, and status of their opponents from the nobility in Rome. As shown by the example of Cn. Plancius, local support could have noticeable positive effects depending on the hometown. Beyond the case of the Plancii from Atina there are more striking examples to analyze the position and situation of domi nobiles. A case in point is Sex. Roscius. The Roscii, rich ‘landlords’ from Ameria in Umbria, apparently ranked among the upper class in their hometown. They belonged to the clientele of two of the most respected, powerful, and well-known families in Rome: the Cornelii Scipiones and the Caecilii Metelli. After the elder Sex. Roscius died in 81 BC, his son was prosecuted for murder of his father and was successfully defended by Cicero in 80 BC.58 Sex. Roscius, even though he did not aspire to an office in Rome, fulfils the criteria of a domi nobilis: he had financial assets in Ameria, and was under the patronage of the Cornelii and Caecilii.59 A further prominent case of local aristocrats is passed down in Cicero’s speech in defense of Aulus Caecina in 69/68 BC, who was prosecuted because of a dispute over inheritance – a complicated litigation over land.60 Sex. Aebutius, the plaintiff, and his counsellor C. Calpurnius Piso (consul of the year 67 BC) claimed that Caecina was not qualified to inherit any part of the land, because he was from Volaterrae in Etruria.61 It is striking that Cicero explicitly had to point out to the jurors in this case that Caecina’s family did not only belong to the local nobility of Volaterrae,62 but that Caecina and the people of Volaterrae had indeed Roman citizenship and therefore were also qualified to inherit.63 Eventually the trial was brought to an end in favor of the defendant 58 59 60 61 62

63

Von der Mühll, RE I,1 (1914) 1116–1117 s. v. Sex. Roscius aus Ameria (no. 6); Sex. Roscius (no. 7). See also the case of the Valerii Catulli as domi nobiles during the late Roman Republic who aspired to senatorial rank in the time of Augustus; cf. Tatum 1997, 485. Alexander 1990, 95 (no. 189). Cf. Deniaux 1993, 471 (no. 27). Cic. Fam. 6.6.9: “He (i. e. Caesar) realizes that a man like you, of birth easily the highest in your part of Italy, which is a very far from contemptible part, and in our common body politic equal to any of the best of your generation in talent, influence, and public reputation, cannot be barred from the commonwealth in the long run.” Cic. Caecin. 18: “He started by having the effrontery to say that Caecina could not be Caesennia’s heir, since he had not full rights like other citizens by reason of the disability and the civil degradation to which the Volaterrans were subject. And I suppose, like a timid and inexperienced man, lacking both in courage and resource, my client did not think it worth while, for the sake of the

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A. Caecina. This last case gives further proof to the assumption that even after 70 BC when Italians at least on a legal basis were equal to Roman citizens domi nobiles were still considered as foreigners by the long-established Roman populace. Bibliography Alexander 1990 = M. C. Alexander, Trials in the Late Roman Republic, 149 BC to 50 BC, Toronto Badel 2005 = Chr. Badel, La noblesse de l’Empire romain. Les masques et la vertu, Seyssel Badian 1972 = E. Badian, Publicans and Sinners: Private Enterprise in the Service of the Roman Republic, Oxford Badian 1997 = E. Badian, Zöllner und Sünder, Unternehmer im Dienst der römischen Republik, Darmstadt Beck 2015 = H. Beck, Beyond ‘Foreign Clienteles’ and ‘Foreign Clans’. Some Remarks on the Intermarriage between Roman and Italian Elites, in: M. Jehne / F. Pina Polo (Eds.), Foreign clientelae in the Roman Empire. A Reconsideration, Stuttgart, 57–72 van der Blom 2010 = H. van der Blom, Cicero’s Role Models. The Political Strategy of a Newcomer, Oxford Bradley 2007 = G. Bradley, Romanization. The End of the Peoples of Italy?, in: G. Bradley / E. Isayev / C. Riva (Eds.), Ancient Italy. Regions without Boundaries, Exeter, 295–322 Broughton 1951–1986 = T. R. S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, New York Brunt 1982 = P. Brunt, Nobilitas and Novitas, in: Journal of Roman Studies 72, 1–17 Deniaux 1993 = É. Deniaux, Clientèles et pouvoir á l’époque de Cicéron, Rome Farney 2007 = G. D. Farney, Ethnic Identity and Aristocratic Competition in Republican Rome, Cambridge Gelzer 1969 = M. Gelzer, Cicero. Ein Biographischer Versuch, Wiesbaden Gruen 1991 = E. S. Gruen, The exercise of power in the Roman Republic. City-States in Classical Antiquity and Medieval Italy, Stuttgart Gruen 1996 = E. S. Gruen, The Roman Oligarchy: Image and Perception, in: J. Lindersky (Ed.), Imperium sine fine. T. Robert S. Broughton and the Roman Republic, Stuttgart, 215–34 Hölkeskamp 2011/1987 = K.-J. Hölkeskamp, Die Entstehung der Nobilität. Studien zur sozialen und politischen Geschichte der Römischen Republik im 4. Jhdt. v. Chr. Stuttgart (2nd Edn. 2011) Jehne 1993 = M. Jehne, Geheime Abstimmung und Bindungswesen in der römischen Republik, in: Historische Zeitschrift 257, 593–613 Jehne/Pfeilschifter 2006 = M. Jehne / R. Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), Herrschaft ohne Integration? Rom und Italien in republikanischer Zeit, Frankfurt a. M. Linke 2006 = B. Linke, Bürger ohne Staat? Die Integration der Landbevölkerung in der römischen Republik, in: Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), 65–94

inheritance, to have any doubts cast on his rights as a citizen, and gave way to Aebutius, letting him keep whatever of Caesennia’s estate he wanted! No indeed! He acted like a brave and wise man, and crushed his foolish and dishonest claim.” See also Cic. Dom. 79 f.: “Lucius Sulla, after his triumphant restoration of the republic, was unable through the assembly of the Centuries to wrest their citizenship from the people of Volaterrae, though they were at the time under arms, (…)”.

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Lomas 2004 = K. Lomas, A Volscian Mafia? Cicero and his Italian Clients in the Forensic Speeches, in: J. J. Paterson / J. G. F. Powell (Eds.), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford, 96–116 Lomas 2012 = K. Lomas, The Weakest Link: Elite Social Networks in Republican Italy, in: S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden, 197–214 Lundgreen 2009 = Chr. Lundgreen, Geheim(nisvoll)e Abstimmung in Rom. Die leges tabellariae und ihre Konsequenzen für die Comitien und die res publica, in: Historia 58, 36–70 Mouritsen 1998 = H. Mouritsen, Italian Unification. A Study in Ancient and Modern Historiography, London Mühll 1914 = Vonder Mühll, RE I,1 (1914) 1116–1117 s. v. Sex. Roscius aus Ameria (no. 6); Sex. Roscius (no. 7) Münzer 1897 = F. Münzer, RE 3,1 (1897) 1279 s. v. Caepasius Münzer 1919 = F. Münzer, RE 20,2 (1919) 1365–1367 s. v. M. Iuventius Laterensis (no. 16) Münzer 1950 = F. Münzer, RE 40,2 (1950) 2013–2015 s. v. Cn. Plancius (no. 4) Nicolet 1959 = C. Nicolet, “Confusio suffragiorum.” A propos d’une réforme électorale de Caius Gracchus, in: Mélanges d’archéologie et d’historie de l’École française de Rome 71, 145–210 Patterson 2006 = J. R. Patterson, The Relationship of the Italian Ruling Classes with Rome: Friendship, Family Relations and their Consequences, in: Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), 139–54 Rollinger 2014 = Chr. Rollinger, Amicitia sanctissime colenda. Freundschaft und soziale Netzwerke in der späten Republik, Heidelberg Roselaar 2016 = S. T. Roselaar, Cicero and the Italians: Expansion of Empire, Creation of Law, in: P. J. du Plessis (Ed.), Cicero’s Law. Rethinking Roman Law of the Late Republic, Edinburgh, 145–65 Roth/Keller 2007 = R. E. Roth / J. Keller (Eds.), Roman by Integration: Dimensions of Group Identity in Material Culture and Text, Portsmouth RI Rotondi 1962 = G. Rotondi, Leges Publicae Populi Romani. Elenco cronologico con una introduzione sull’attività legislativa die comizi romani, Hildesheim Schlange-Schöningen 2006 = H. Schlange-Schöningen, Zur römischen ‘Integration’ der Marser und Messapier, in: Jehne/Pfeilschifter (Hgg.), 155–70 Schneider 2000 = H. Schneider, Rom von den Anfängen bis zum Ende der Republik (6. Jh. bis 30 v. Chr.), in: H.-J. Gehrke / H. Schneider (Hgg.), Geschichte der Antike. Ein Studienbuch3, Stuttgart, 229–300 Syme/Santangelo 2016 = R. Syme / F. Santangelo, Approaching the Roman Revolution: Papers on Republican History, Oxford Tatum 1997 = W. J. Tatum, Friendship, Politics, and Literature in Catullus: Poems 1,65 and 66,116, in: Classical Quarterly 47,2, 482–500 Taylor 1960 = L. R. Taylor, The Voting Districts of the Roman Republic. The Thirty-Five Urban and Rural Tribes, Rome Wiseman 1971 = T. P. Wiseman, New Men in the Roman Senate, 139 B. C.-A. D. 14, Oxford Wiseman 1987 = T. P. Wiseman, domi nobiles and the Roman Cultural Élite, in: idem, Roman Studies. Literary and Historical (Collected Classical Papers), Liverpool, 297–305 Yakobson 1995 = A. Yakobson, Secret Ballot and its Effects in the Late Roman Republic, in: Hermes 123,4, 426–42

Municipal Men in the Age of the Civil Wars* Federico Santangelo (Newcastle-upon-Tyne) Speaking of ‘municipal men’ in late Republican Italy involves evoking a number of scholarly figments – to a point, at least. The expression uiri municipales, which has fairly wide scholarly currency, is not attested in the surviving evidence: there are plenty of mentions of municipales and some to municipales homines, but no reference as such as to uiri municipales.1 It is conceivable that the expression was used at some point, and (more importantly) that some citizens of the municipia may have said of themselves ‘municipalis sum’, had they been asked a similar question to the one that Pliny the Younger famously received from a fellow-spectator at the Circus, who was curious to know whether he was of Italian or provincial origin.2 However, the fact remains that all the extant evidence refers to municipales from a non-municipal angle: even Cicero, as we shall see, does so from a clearly Rome-based and, due qualifications made, Rome-focused standpoint. Setting this premise does not amount to concluding that references to municipales should unproblematically be read as dismissive, or as carrying a sting, nor should it lead to the hasty conclusion that the interests of the uiri municipales are consistently marginal in the concerns of the sources and in the wider political discourse in which they belong.3 Much of the following discussion will be devoted to problematising this very account, and in arguing that important qualifications must be brought into the picture: more careful emphasis should be placed on periodisation, and on the developments that the depiction of, and engagement with, uiri municipales in the evidence had through the space of a few generations. The somewhat heterodox periodisation around which this volume is framed (180–30 BC) can prove especially helpful in that regard.

* 1 2 3

I am very grateful to Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp and Roman Roth for their invitation to the Cologne conference, and to audiences in Cologne and Groningen for their reactions to aspects of the argument presented here. Bertrand Augier offered invaluable comments on an earlier version. TLL 8.1647. Cf. the critiques of the category of uiri militares in Geisthardt 2013 and 2015, 9–20. Plin. Ep 9.23.2–3: Italicus es an prouincialis?. D’Arms 1984 (= 2003, 385–414) provides an effective deconstruction of both contentions.

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The focus of this paper is on the age of the Civil Wars, although not mainly on military operations: it will revolve mainly around the half century between the Eighties and the end of the Triumviral period. Some references to the developments of the generations preceding the Social War will, however, be necessary. At the other end of the spectrum, it is perhaps revealing that the most important study on uiri municipales to date (D’Arms 1984) deals with the early Imperial period, rather than with the Republic. An element of longue durée must be kept in sight. Moreover, focusing on the Civil Wars does not presuppose uncritical acceptance of the time-honoured model, most powerfully advocated by Ernst Badian, in which the defining mode of the involvement of the Italian Allies in the late Republic are increasingly strong and pervasive networks of military clientelae.4 Much of the discussion will steer clear from the bloodstained battlefields of Italy, and will concentrate on moments of political, economic, or social interaction, whether successful or abortive. Its focus will be thematic, partly because of space constraints, and will concentrate on four inter-related areas: access to public office in Rome, and eventually to the Senate; the nature of the enduring connections of uiri municipales with their home communities and the neighbouring regional contexts; the role that land ownership in municipal settings played in shaping networks of political cooperation and patronage, both with individuals in Rome and across regional contexts; and the presence of members of the Italian elites in non-elective posts during the late Republican period. 1. The most emphatic, and probably best-known, reference to the opportunities that men from the communities of Roman citizens had in making their way up the cursus honorum is in the passage of the pro Sestio in which Cicero, having sketched the terms of the distinction between optimates and populares, goes on to provide an overview of who deserves to be included within the first category (97): its foremost members are “the men of the greatest orders, to whom the senate chamber lies wide open” (sunt maximorum ordinum homines, quibus patet curia), i. e. the members of senatorial and equestrian families. The municipales rusticique Romani follow immediately afterwards, and precede businessmen and freedmen, in what is clearly a hierarchical mode of setting out the terms of the problem.5 Within that category, a further hierarchy is also being established between city-based and country-dwelling citizens. The option of their political and social rise is, however, evoked in a sufficiently clear fashion, although it is

4 5

Badian 1958, 272; for a recent discussion see Prag 2015, 282. Cf. Augier 2014, 39. Kaster 2006, 320.

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apparent that they shall have to face far greater challenges than the members of the two great orders would typically encounter. Later in the speech (137), Cicero comes back to that point in even more disconcerting, or indeed disingenuous, terms, and argues that the will of the people can ensure access to the Senate to any citizen who is equipped with the required industry and valour. The Fasti of the late Republic tell a different story. The generation of new citizens that emerged from the Social War had a very difficult path to political recognition and success. Access to the consulship remained especially challenging. As G. Farney has recently reminded us, only one individual of “demonstrable Italic descent” held that office between the Social War and the outbreak of the war between Caesar and Pompey: L. Afranius, who was consul in 60 BC, hailed from Picenum (a region that is usually regarded as a notorious hub of Pompeian clientelae) and was not a new man.6 Other men of Etruscan stock reached the consulship in this period, but none of them belonged to the constituency of the new citizens. C. Volcacius Tullus, probably from Perusia, reached the consulship in 66 BC, but was not a nouus homo either. The same applies to the consuls of Etruscan origin that reached that office between the Forties and the Thirties: their ancestors are attested, in some cases, as early as in the mid-second century.7 The Civil War, however, brought about a major, striking change: between 47 and 33 a sway of men of Italic descent attained the highest office. It is the age of remarkable individuals like P. Vatinius (cos. 47 BC), Q. Fufius Calenus (cos. 47), Q. Pedius (cos. 43), C. Asinius Pollio (cos. 40), and P. Ventidius Bassus (cos suff. 43).8 The focus of this discussion is largely on the developments that preceded that phase. The differentiation between municipales and rustici is not unique to the classic passage of the pro Sestio. The author of the Commentariolum petitionis offers a memorable pointer on the importance of befriending men from those very backgrounds, and on the electoral advantage that being able to recall their names can have (31): it will suffice to make them believe they are one’s friends. Cicero, however, did not nurture those ties just in the run-up to an election. In early March 49, he wrote to Atticus from Formiae, complaining about an eye affliction, and wondering about the movements of Pompey in the early stages of the Civil War: he was still tentatively hopeful that a last-minute appeasement with Caesar might be possible. The letter is a masterpiece of brevity, and has the great quality of taking us beyond the thick of Roman politics, and into far less often explored municipal remits. From his country residence near Formiae, Cicero reports the frequent conversations he has been having with municipales homines and rusticani, and of his realisation that all these sectors of Italian society care about is to have

6 7 8

Farney 2007, 190. Cf. Augier 2014, 52. Wiseman 1971, 276–77; Farney 2007, 132. Farney 2007, 190 n. 43. Cf. Carlà-Uhink 2017b, 391–392, who regards the rise to the consulship of men of municipal origin as the completion of a ‘process of “unification”’, and dates it to the Augustan period.

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their properties and livelihood undisturbed by the impending war.9 As D. R. Shackleton Bailey pointed out, there is no sharp distinction between these two groups, which both based their wealth, influence, and political choices in the Italian countryside.10 There is more than a hint of irritation on Cicero’s part towards his municipal interlocutors, but the point that he is keen to make is of wider import. Whatever one may make of their attitude, Caesar’s clementia is bound to curry great favour among those municipal men, and to reveal the ineptitude of the opposite faction. There is also a fundamental political message to this text: the outcome of the crisis and its political legacy may be divined from the attitude and concerns of the small town people with whom Cicero regularly speaks. The point is expanded even more forcefully three weeks later, in another letter from Formiae: as he is getting ready to meet Caesar, Cicero comments that the municipales homines ac rustici are by now fearing the prospect of Pompey’s return to Italy (Cic. Att 9.15.3 = SB 183). In these texts the distinction between municipales and rustici may not be quite as straightforward as it appears to be in the pro Sestio. One could of course be the citizen of a community in a rural setting, and indeed be based on a country estate. In those texts Cicero is keen to convey his connection with decent country folks who care about the welfare of the commonwealth. A cognate point is made in the opening section of the pro Caelio – which was given, like the pro Sestio, in 56 – where Cicero stresses that the connection between his client and his hometown – probably to be identified with Interamna Praetuttiorum – was fostered and enhanced even after the beginning of his political career at Rome: Sestius was co-opted into the municipal Senate in absentia and received an unspecified set of honours, which he had not actively coveted (5). More importantly to the case, the community sent a deputation of lectissimi uiri to show its support on the day of the trial: Cicero does not label them as municipales, nor does he draw attention to their rural background, but he makes sure to stress that the group included both members of the senatorial and the equestrian order. The community had been enfranchised well before the Social War, possibly in the early second century BC.11 There are other instances in which Cicero insists on his ability to establish ties with members of the municipal elites, not just in his published speeches, and sometimes in a rather matter of fact way. In the autumn of 45 BC he approaches his friend M. (?) Cluvius (Cic. Fam. 13.7 = SB 320), who is in charge of land assignments in Cisalpine Gaul: he makes the case for the Campanian city of Atella, which derives a revenue from land

9 10

11

Cic. Att 8.13.2 = SB 163. On the use of rusticanus in Cicero see Mamoojee 1998, 96–101. See Shackleton Bailey 1968, 353. On the historical background see Bruhns 1978, 84–85 and Maschek 2018, 194–195. Gabba 1979, 136–137 remains essential reading on the ‘moderatismo’ and the ‘tendenza individualistica’ of the Italian elites that Cicero had sought to mobilise politically and intellectually (cf. 124–125). Wiseman 1971, 13–14.

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that it owns in Northern Italy, and whose interests need protecting more than ever, in the face of the grave challenges presented by the aftermath of the Civil War.12 Roughly in the same period, probably in 46 BC, he recommends to M. Iunius Brutus, then governor of Cisalpine Gaul, his hometown of Arpinum, which also owns land in Northern Italy, and has just sent there a deputation of three citizens of equestrian standing (equites Romani) to deal with the collection of outstanding revenue (Cic. Fam. 13.11 = SB 277).13 In a separate letter he singles out for special attention Q. Fufidius, the stepson of his former military tribune M. Caesius (13.12 = SB 278), and hopes to gain special favour in his hometown for the success of his work in Cisalpine, to which Brutus’s support can be crucial. The implications of this recommendation for Brutus’s own network of support are obvious. Municipal clientelae do not cease to play a significant role even under what is, in effect, a monarchic regime. No abolition of politics is in sight. In the months that follow the death of Caesar the channels of communication with the municipal elites play a more significant role than ever, and Cicero vigorously asserts it on a number of occasions. In July 44 he mentions in a letter to Atticus that he has been having dinner with some citizens of Formiae, from whom he received news about the meeting they had the previous day with another prominent figure, L. Munatius Plancus (15.29.3 = SB 408). Two months earlier, he reports having had dinner with Vestorius, a citizen of Puteoli that he defines as “a man ignorant of dialectics, well versed enough in arithmetics” (14.2.3 = SB 357: hominem remotum a dialecticis, in arithmeticis satis exercitatum): a patronising definition that places him among the affluent group of negotiatores based on the Bay of Naples. The list of the attested loans taken by Cicero that I. Shatzman compiled four decades ago shows that he knew a fair number of people who were good with numbers, and Vestorius had been a reliable lender for him since the mid-Fifties at least.14 The tone that Cicero reserved to him in his private message to Atticus is not unparalleled in the rest of his work, and is of course not unique to him. In the Brutus Cicero makes a brief reference to the rise of the Caepasii brothers, who reached the quaestorship in spite of their undistinguished background. Their surprising success was matched by a certain roughness in public speaking, which betrayed their municipal origin (242: oppidano quodam et incondito genere dicendi).15

12 13 14 15

See Deniaux 1993, 360–362, 397–398. On his praenomen see Bispham 2000, 50 n. 51; he is almost certainly a relation of N. Cluvius, on whom see infra (Bispham 2000, 68). On the estates owned by some Italian communities outside their territories and the importance of the income they generated see Patterson 2006, 185–186. Shatzman 1975, 416–18; Andreau 1983, esp. 9–11; Ioannatou 2006, 156–157, 170–171, 322–323. On this use of oppidanus see TLL IX.2, col. 751: spectat hic illic ad defectum urbanitatis. Cf. also Planc 30. It is doubtful that the name of M. Terpolius is singled out for a putdown in Cicero’s Corneliana because of its municipal ring (Ascon. 81.1–2 C.): it is contemptissimum because of Terpolius’s political action during his tribunate (77 BC), which could still be singled out as especially remiss even twelve years later (contra Syme 1938, 23 = 1979, 111; Wiseman 1971, 265 no. 424 places his origo at Ostia). On the Caepasii cf. Cic. Clu 57, with David 1983, 312–313, who claims that Cicero

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The view that municipal men may be able to prove effective orators in spite of their origins is also posited elsewhere.16 In relating a memorable exchange between Pompey and Helvius Mancia, which took place in 55 BC, Valerius Maximus emphasises the strength of Mancia’s riposte, and notes that his municipal background and his descent from a freedman made it all the more remarkable.17 On the other hand, complimentary references to the decency of country-dwelling citizens are by no means infrequent.18 Both Sallust and Plutarch emphasise the importance that a good rural upbringing had to Marius’ character: by growing up away from Rome he was able to nurture the values and standards of behaviour that were beginning to decline in the city by the mid-second century BC.19 As is well known, the role model of Marius is of great significance to Cicero at various junctions in his career.20 That is also confirmed, inter alia, by a passage in which the notion of municipalis emerges in far less conciliatory terms, and is in fact retorted against Cicero. In the pro Sulla – a text that betrays a heavy preoccupation with the relationship between Rome and Italy, as is fitting to a speech given in the aftermath of the Catilinarian conspiracy – Cicero has to confront the jibes that his counterpart, Manlius Torquatus, has been throwing at him. Torquatus had first accused him of aiming to set up a tyrannical regime (regnum), and he then compounded that political criticism with the sarcastic and far from innocuous claim that Cicero was in fact a foreigner, and that he was not prepared to endure a third rex peregrinus, after Tarquinius and Numa (22).21 Cicero probes his opponent on that very point, and stresses that Torquatus is labelling him as a foreigner because he comes from a municipium. The allegation was not unprecedented: in the previous year, according to Sallust, Catiline himself had disparagingly qualified Cicero as an inquilinus ciuis urbis Romae (31.7: “an immigrant citizen of the city of Rome”, in A. J. Woodman’s translation; see below, no. 27). The remarkable record of Cicero’s consulship had not managed to make that line of attack redundant or undesirable.22 Cicero replies to Torquatus that his municipium had already provided Rome with its salvation on one occasion – in an implicit reference to Marius – and confronts him on the implication

16 17 18 19 20 21 22

established a link between their rhetorical deficiencies and a political allegiance to the populares; see also David 1980, 183 and David 1992, 782. Cf. esp. Brut 169–172, discussed in Dench 2005, 298–302. Val. Max. 6.2.8. On this exchange see Steel 2013. The point is echoed in Tac. Ann 16.5.1, who praises the ability of remote municipia and Italy as a whole to retain and uphold traditional virtues in the moral crisis of the age of Nero. A similar point is made, in a very different context, by Tacitus in his account of Agricola’s upbringing: Agr 4, with D’Arms 1984, 460 (= 2003, 407). Santangelo 2008; van der Blom 2010, 181–183, 188–194, 203–208, 259–269. Sall. Iug 63.3; Plut. Mar 2.2–3. On Torquatus’s tone cf. Sull 22.3 (facetus esse uoluisti), with the comments in Berry 1996, 181. This is the sort of humorous remark that barely disguises deep-seated and highly charged tensions. Remarkably, this line of attack is picked up and turned in Cicero’s favour by Juvenal, Sat. 8.237–38: see D’Arms 1984, 447–448 (= 2003, 393–394).

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of his statement, which dismisses most Roman citizens as foreigners. He then produces a list of consuls of municipal origins: M. Porcius Cato, Ti. Coruncanius, M’. Curio, and C. Marius. He draws attention to an intrinsic paradox of the statement of the patrician Torquatus: by claiming that the citizens of the municipia are in fact foreigners, the very electoral process that he is about to go through as a candidate (it is unclear to what office) is also undercut. The votes of foreigners, peregrinorum suffragia, are central to anyone’s electoral success.23 There is a further, even more personal objection that may be put forward to Torquatus: while he may belong to a patrician family, he is a municipalis by motherly descent, as his mother hailed from a distinguished family of Asculum – one of the many instances of intermarriage between Roman and municipal elites that shaped the ‘international aristocracy’ of Hellenistic Italy.24 That objection is decisive, and has a further implication: Torquatus is omitting a crucial point, and his misleading claim also implicates the jury (uos). This exchange exposes to lines of debate that remain highly divisive: while the status of municipalis is potentially open to the allegation of being a peregrinus, the patrician status of Torquatus may also be turned into a polemical weapon, and a byword for a misplaced sense of entitlement, which will be duly sanctioned in the electoral process. The list of municipal consuls that Cicero provides, however, is revealing of wider problems. Marius’ presence is unsurprising, as is the prominence that it receives in this context; the same applies to the other great new man of Republican history, M. Porcius Cato, from Tusculum; Tib. Coruncanius hails from the same town, and was consul nearly a century earlier, in 280 BC. The origin of M’. Curius Dentatus (cos. III 274 BC) is elusive, although he probably came from a community that was enfranchised after 338 BC (Nomentum is the likeliest candidate). The overall impression is one of a disparate list, which follows no chronological sequence, focuses on some striking names, and obscures a fundamental problem: all the four consuls come from communities that have long been disenfranchised, and two from a city that had supplied Rome with a distinguished cluster of consuls to Rome. With Marius’ notable exception, they belong to the age of the consolidation of the patricio-plebeian nobility, which came to include a number of families of Italian stock.25 If one starts probing the notion of

23

24 25

Roselaar 2016, 153–154 draws attention to the significance of this passage. On the electoral weight of Cisalpine Gaul cf. Cic. Att 1.1.2, dating to July 65 BC (uidetur in suffragiis multum posse Gallia) and BG 8.50.3–4. The weight of Italian votes and the considerable number of Italian candidates for office do not necessarily entail that there were “masses of municipal men in the Senate” at the time (Syme 1938, 5 = 1979, 93). Wiseman 1971, 63; Patterson 2013, 219; Beck 2015, 61–72; Patterson 2016a, 46–49 and 2016b, 487. On the wider implications of this problem see the recent full-scale treatment in Terrenato 2019. On this process see Hölkeskamp 1987 (20112), 176–181; cf. also 2010, 79–82. On the inclusion of Etruscan elements see M. Torelli 2000, 155–157, 173–175. On the depiction of new men in Cicero’s speeches see van der Blom 2010, 158–165 and Etcheto 2014.

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municipalis somewhat harder, it readily turns into a much more complex and more unwieldy aggregate than it looks at first sight. Cicero himself acknowledges the problem in his speech on behalf of Plancius, which is a central document to the understanding of the political position of the citizens of the municipia in the late Republic, and where several of the points raised in the passage of pro Sulla discussed above resonate more fully (notably the primacy of individual merit in this context). It will receive closer consideration in the paper of S. Karataş, and I shall here draw attention just to a specific point. Cicero puts at the centre of his case the strong connection between his client and his home community, the praefectura of Atina, and strongly emphasises the importance that it had to both parties (20). He then points out that this is unsurprising in a community that has so far failed to produce a senior magistrate: something comparable is happening at Arpinum, where the townsmen tend to have a strong loyalty to him and his brother Quintus, and where the memory of Marius is nurtured by many. Nothing comparable, in Cicero’s view, is happening at Tusculum, where it is far less common to encounter people boasting about the achievements of the many citizens that attained the consulship. Cicero explains that attitude with the sheer number of Tusculan consuls; one may also add that some of those consuls reached their office much earlier than Marius and he had. This vignette draws attention to several problems of considerable significance. First, it draws attention to the different political and cultural traditions of the Italian communities: even within a relatively small portion of territory there is scope for a range of different options.26 Secondly, it shows that there is a tangible link between local clientelae networks and local history, and that this background also has considerable implications on the competition for public office: the attachment that the enthusiastic citizens of Atina feel towards Plancius has very tangible consequences in terms of political and electoral support. Thirdly, it serves as a reminder that the access of the Italians to public office, while never uncontroversial or straightforward, took place through a whole range of different developments, and should be understood against the background of specific regional, and indeed local, contexts. More importantly, it reminds us that different versions of being municipalis were available, which the Rome-focused viewpoint of much of our evidence should not dissuade us from exploring further.

26

Cf. Roselaar 2016, 156–157 for the view that Cicero does not usually draw distinctions between different Italian communities.

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2. Cicero’s evidence is exceptionally rewarding in this respect. To be sure, it does reflect interests that are first and foremost concentrated on Rome, but does resort to a valuable degree of local knowledge, and it reflects direct experience of being municipalis, of asserting and defending that status in unfamiliar or unsympathetic settings, and of interacting with robust contingents of municipales. Much of Cicero’s career as defence counsel entailed close dealings with members of the municipal elites, from his involvement with the case of Roscius of Ameria; that became exceptionally significant during the clash with Antony after the Ides of March. Municipales make two telling appearances in the Second Philippic. After Caesar’s departure for Spain, in early April 49 BC, Antony embarked on a journey across Italy: he was a tribune of the plebs, albeit with a proconsular command, and had no qualms in being surrounded by lictors, and being carried in an open litter.27 His lover, the actress Volumnia Cytheris (probably a freedwoman of one of Antony’s closest associates, whom we will encounter in the final section of this paper), was travelling with him.28 When the honesti municipales from the towns that he visited came to welcome the cortège, they addressed her by her name Volumnia, rather than by her Greek one: surely a mark of respect, no doubt dictated by the fear that the presence of Antony’s troops on their territory induced. In this brief sketch their decency is played against the depravity of Antony, and their pointed use of the Italian name of the actress evokes Antony’s indulgence towards corrupt Hellenic ways.29 In the following instance (2.102–105) we encounter a more precise characterisation of Antony’s modus operandi. On the later journey of Antony through Italy, in late April or early May 44 BC, following the refoundation of the colony of Casilinum and a round of land assignments in the territory of Capua, Antony arrived at Casinum and took control of the villa previously owned by M. Terentius Varro.30 Cicero expands on the dubious legal grounds of that gesture, and then focuses on the sharp contrast between the matters that the distinguished previous occupier of the villa used to deal with, and the wretched ways of the intruder, who is surrounded by a court of drunkards and prostitutes. Far from being merely a site of historical significance, the villa embodies a certain way of being Roman. It is also, crucially, embedded in an 27 28 29 30

Cic. Phil 2.57–58. Cf. the different account in Att 10.10.5. See the valuable discussion in Ramsey 2003, 243–246. On Volumnia see Cic. Fam 9.26.2, with Ramsey 2003, 246. On the stereotype of Central Italian frugality see Farney 2007, 196–197, who shows that Italic ethnic groups could be at the receiving end of negative stereotypes too (191–198). See Ramsey 2003, 311–318. On the colonial foundation cf. Keppie 1983, 143–145; on Antony’s journey see 52–53. Cf. the use of the word inquilinus, in opposition to dominus; cf. Catiline’s jibe towards Cicero in Sall. Cat 31.7 See D’Arms 1984, 441–442 (= 2003, 387) and Carlà-Uhink 2017a, 267–269.

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Italian landscape, and in the uncertain politics of the period. Citizens from a number of neighbouring communities – Casinum, Aquinum, and Interamna Lirenas – came to pay their respects to Antony, and were refused audience. When he left the villa and resumed his journey to Rome, the Triumvir had himself carried through the city of Aquinum in a closed litter – unlike what he had done a few years earlier, during his journey across Italy in the company of his mistress.31 Far from being a symptom of modesty, it was a sign of his refusal to engage in the minimal extent of political interaction with Italy that one would have expected of someone in his position.32 A large crowd of citizens from Aquinum welcomed him as he went through their town, and some men of Anagnia, even if their community was not on Antony’s route, came down from their hill-top town to pay their respects, only to be ignored. The presence of two citizens of Anagnia, Seius Mustela and Laco, both of dubious reputation, on Antony’s retinue did not play any part in changing his attitude.33 His interest was awakened only by manifestations of hostility or dissent. When the communities of Teanum Sidicinum and Puteoli declared Cassius and Brutus as their patrons, they became the targets of Antony’s abuse and threats.34 Cicero’s point is that Antony was incapable of persuading anyone: the only means through which he might have been able to gain the patronage of a community was violence. Teanum plays a significant role in our story for another, very different reason. In the mid-Forties the local inhabitants were involved in the political controversy of the time and took a firm stance in favour of one of the competing factions. About eighty years earlier, the town had been the stage of a scene in which the power gap between Roman citizens and Italians had emerged in its most appalling form. A consul happened to travel via Teanum with his wife, who demanded to use the public baths; the local magistrate M. Marius made sure that these were ready for her, but she complained that they had not been vacated quickly enough and were not sufficiently clean. Marius was stripped naked and whipped in public by the consul’s attendants: the incident induced the people of neighbouring Cales to issue a law whereby no one was allowed to use the public baths whenever a Roman magistrate happened to be in town. News of that episode, however, also reached Rome, and became an issue of political controversy. Gaius Gracchus denounced it in a speech from which a quote survives in Gellius (10.3.1–3 = ORF4 48).35 The author of The Attic Nights chastises Gracchus for not being as effective 31 32 33 34 35

Ramsey 2003, 316 aptly notes the contrast. Ramsey 2003, 315 suggests that Antony may have feared for his own safety. See the prosopographical notes in Ferriès 2007, 424 (Laco) and 463–464 (Mustela). Cic. Phil. 2.107. See Santangelo 2016, 141. The dating of the speech is uncertain: it may well belong to the early months of Gaius’ first tribunate (Stockton 1979, 120, 221–222: early in 123 or very late in 124). Roth 2019, esp. 129–142, 150–152 offers a thoughtful reading of Gellius’ passage and of the historical significance of the fragments of Gracchus’ speech; the depiction of magisterial abuse against the Italian allies in rhetorical contexts could turn into a formidable opportunity to reflect on the limits of power in second-century BC Rome.

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in drawing out the pathetic aspects of the incident as Cicero is in discussing comparable episodes in the Verrines. That may well be true, but Gracchus certainly cannot be faulted for a lack of thoroughness or focus: in the same speech he also reported a similar incident that had taken place at Ferentinum during the visit of a praetor.36 However, violent acts could be perpetrated against individuals in Italy even by people who were not Roman magistrates. Elsewhere (alio in loco: ORF4 49) Gracchus also reported the chilling story of a citizen from Venusia, who was beaten to death when he made an unguarded comment about the litter in which a young Roman nobleman who had only served as legatus in Asia was travelling (10.3.5). The men who were carrying him killed the offender with the thongs with which the lectern had been fastened. The fact that their target was not a local grandee, but a bubulcus e plebe Venusina, ‘a ploughman from the plebs of Venusia’, probably made them set aside any concerns about sparing his life, unlike what had been the case at Teanum and Ferentinum. This instance of sheer brutality serves as a reminder, if we ever needed one, that the notion of municipalis is constantly in need of deconstruction, and has a very wide range indeed of shades. The legal position of those who witnessed the coming of Mark Antony to their hometowns was of course different from that of the people mentioned by Gaius Gracchus: the Roman franchise entailed some safeguards. However, the time of Antony’s visit was one of great political tension, and the prospect of suffering considerable harm had something gone wrong must have appeared very real to them. 44 BC is a year that precedes the outbreak of a string of civil wars, and where their build-up is plain to see. The Philippics, however, are predominantly concerned with what is left of peaceful political debate, and Antony is attacked for his flaws as a statesman. His interactions with municipales are therefore turned into a decisive opportunity to reflect on the political method of Antony and his shortcomings: through his dealings with the good people of Italy one can get a truer illustration of how he would conduct himself if he were to become the master of Rome. There is much in these passages that is shaped by Cicero’s literary concerns and rhetorical strategies, and ought to be taken with a degree of caution. As B. Augier has recently shown, the very reference to the two Anagnini in Antony’s enturage paves the way for a different reconstruction. At least one of them, Laco, must be linked with the C. Abuttius Laco who held a number of magistracies and priestly office at Anagnia, and was a member of the local senate in the late Republican period.37 He is just the sort of individual with whom, in different circumstances, Cicero would have happily established an effective political connection. Quite apart from their personal lifestyle choices, Laco and Mustela were weighty political players of municipal origin. Cicero’s testimony indirectly confirms that they may have fairly been expected to influence Antony’s conduct, or at least his attitude towards their 36 37

For a more positive assessment than Gellius’ see Hudson 2018, 75–77, where a productive link is established between this passage and Phil 2.57–58, discussed supra. CIL X 5914, with Augier 2014, 40–41, esp. n. 12.

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community. Their failure to do that is revealing of their incompetence, as much as further emphasising Antony’s fundamental flaws. If one goes beyond Cicero’s attack, though, two main points stand out. It is worth noting what did not happen to Anagnia as Antony was in the area: the city is not said to have suffered any harm, nor to have been subjected to any special demand. Secondly, and more straightforwardly, the presence of Mustela (and possibly that of Laco) on Antony’s entourage is a reminder of the fact that the late Republican armies are full of municipales, many of whom retained ties with their home communities, and indeed, as we shall see below, with wider regional contexts.38 Their connection with Antony also brings to light a wider important point: the notion of municipalis is hardly at all helpful, unless it is compounded by a suitable set of qualifications. Antony’s associates are every bit as municipalis as the good people of Anagnia that are refused an audience with the Triumvir. Quite apart from the different treatment that they receive at Cicero’s hands, they follow different trajectories, and play very different roles in the history of the Civil War to those who were denied a brief audience with Antony. 3. Men of municipal origin that established close personal bonds with leading political figures in Rome tended to retain a connection with their hometowns. The trend is hardly surprising, and is not just typical of the age of the second Civil War. It is already detectable in the age of Sulla. One of the great operators of the season of the proscriptions was C. Quinctius Valgus – an especially important figure in the context of the present discussion.39 His municipal origin is unknown: he is attested as duumvir quinquennalis and patronus of the municipium of Aeclanum and as a quinquennalis of the colony of Pompeii, where he is famously mentioned in an important inscription from the Amphitheatre.40 He is also known as a landowner in vast sways of Central and Southern Italy, from the territory of Casinum to Hirpinia. We hear about the extent of his possessions from the hostile account of Cicero, who attacks him because of his family connection with the tribune P. Servilius Rullus.41 There is no evidence that he pursued a senatorial career: the radius of his action appears to have been confined to territories where he owned land, and to have owed much to Sulla’s direct support and patronage. Defining Valgus as a mere profiteer from 38 39 40 41

Ferriès 2007, 109–116 is useful on this count. See Santangelo 2007, 72, 161–162, 187; Bispham 2007, 412–413; Nicols 2014, 57–58; Eilers 2015, 324 (who stresses that he is “the only non-senator attested as patronus in the epigraphy of the Republic”); Patterson 2016b, 491; Camodeca 2018, 28–29, 34; Maschek 2018, 152, 158–159, 195. Aeclanum: CIL I2 3191 (quinquennalis: on this inscription and its archaeological context see Camodeca 2018, 32–33) and I2.1230 = IX.1140; Pompeii: CIL X 852. Cic. Leg agr 3.1.3. See Manuwald 2018, 427, 448–449.

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the proscriptions, however, would amount to missing an important aspect of the influence he achieved. His dedication of major public works at Aeclanum and Pompeii suggests that he deployed part of his considerable fortune into the communities in which he had a stake. The nature of his involvement at Pompeii shows an involvement over years, although he was not buried on the Via dei Sepolcri, unlike M. Porcius, his colleague on the duovirate.42 His interests in Hirpinia become even more significant against that background, and show that the range of his influence in the area was on a regional scale. While it is unlikely that Valgus was from Rome, it would be unsatisfactory to merely label him as a municipalis Quite apart from such terminological considerations, however, the main problem is that he is a figure of unmatched density and complexity in this period, and until the early Forties. Yet the model he embodies, that of a figure who becomes a major influence on the level of a single region, both through his role as landowner and his engagement with municipal life, is not unparalleled. On the one hand, there are a handful of comparable instances of individuals that are known to have held magistracies in more than one community, and do not have demonstrable ties with a major political figure in Rome.43 Numerius Cluvius, from Puteoli, was quattuorvir at Caudium, duumvir at Nola, quattuorvir quinquennalis at Cales, and duumvir quinquennalis at Capua; he was the member of an affluent family of negotiatores, with strong interests at Delos and in Asia Minor.44 Back in Hirpinia, where Valgus, as we have seen, had considerable interests, Visellius Flaccus was praetor at Beneventum and duumvir at Telesia.45 Connections with Rome are not proved in his case either, and the view that he was involved with the organisation of the community of Telesia in the aftermath of the Sullan colonisation is merely speculative.46 Wider regional connections of individual municipal men are also sketched in some of Cicero’s speeches. The wealth of Sex. Roscius senior, the notable from Ameria whose son Cicero defended in 80 BC, was matched by his distinguished lineage, and easily made him the most prominent figure in the surrounding area.47 In the pro Plancio Cicero discusses at some length the breadth of his client’s connections in the region surrounding 42 43 44 45 46 47

Zevi 1995, 10 n. 34. See Scuderi 1989, 124–133; Bispham 2000, 53 n. 72, 68–69 and 2007, 434–435 (who argues that the phenomenon could well predate the Social War). CIL X 1572 and 1573. For a full reconsideration of his remarkable dossier see Bispham 2000; cf. Bispham 2007, 474–475. CIL I2 1748 = CIL IX 2240 = ILLRP 676. Cf. Scuderi 1989, 131–132; M. R. Torelli 2002, 80. The evidence for a Sullan colony at Telesia is not compelling; Santangelo 2007, 154. Cic. Rosc Am 15: municeps Amerinus fuit, cum genere et nobilitate et pecunia non modo sui municipi, uerum etiam eius uicinitatis facile primus, tum gratia atque hospitiis florens hominum nobilissimorum (“he was a citizen of Ameria; in birth, rank, and wealth he was easily the most prominent man not only of his town but of the entire district; moreover, he enjoyed the favour of, and ties of hospitality with, the noblest men”, trans. D. H. Berry, modified).

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Atina, his hometown, and mentions his following at Sora, Casinum, Aquinum, Venafrum, Allifae, and indeed Arpinum, for which Cicero is able to give first-hand evidence (22–23). On the one hand, this network of support is a function of the pride that that having a uicinus holding a major public office generates in some communities; on the other, it is a symptom of the importance of the services that Plancius carried out for these individuals when he held the quaestorship and the tribunate. There is a central political point to Cicero’s rhetoric: the men who have turned up to support Plancius are not outsiders, respectable members of a periphery, but individuals that are central to the fabric itself of the res publica, and distinguished members of the equestrian order, to which Plancius and his father also belong.48 They are capable of making an even more substantial contribution to the commonwealth that the inhabitants of the Latin communities of Labicum, Gabii and Bovillae, the neighbours of Laterensis, who are either unable or unwilling to send a suitable number of envoys to the feriae Latinae. Proximity to Rome is no straightforward indicator of one’s greater ability to contribute to the welfare of the res publica. The weight of inter-municipal connections becomes especially clear in the case of L. Minucius Basilus, who had strong family connections in Picenum and the Sabine territory, was probably from Cupra Maritima, and got to pursue a senatorial career in the Fifties, eventually forming – for a brief spell – a close connection with Caesar.49 His adoptive uncle had served on the staff of Pompeius Strabo: in that case, and no doubt in many others, it took one generation for a member of the family to secure access to the Senate. The same trajectory may be sketched, albeit in a far shorter timeframe, for at least one individual in the previous generation: M. Magius Minatus Surus, who took charge of a set of public works at Aeclanum with C. Quinctius Valgus.50 He was the son of Minatus Magius, a pro-Roman notable who fought in the Social War, and collaborated openly with a man that was close to Sulla; two sons of Minatus senior got to hold the praetorship before 81, in a very different political climate.51 The sequences of their careers are elusive, as well as the factors that enabled them to navigate such a difficult context, and those that determined the disappearance of their family from the magistrates lists in the following generation.52 The success of men like Valgus and Minucius Basilus is a signal example of the significance of the networks of uicinitas that have recently been explored, from different angles, in a number of important contributions.53 Cicero defines Minucius Basilus patro48 49 50 51 52 53

See esp. Planc 24, with Roselaar 2016, 150. In general on the pro Plancio see Alexander 2009; cf. also S. Karataş’ paper in this volume. RE 15.2, col. 1947–1948, no. 37; Bruhns 1978, 56; Dyck 2004, 587–588; Augier 2014, 52–53. CIL I 1230 = IX.1140. See above, n. 38. Vell. Pat. 2.16.3. Cf. G. Bradley’s contribution to this volume. Cf. Sumner 1970, 259–61; Bispham 2007, 270–271; Santangelo 2007, 72–73. However, Isayev 2017, 319 draws attention to the Augustan praefect of Egypt M. Magius Maximus (CIL IX 1125). Bispham 2000, 70–72; Lomas 2004 and 2013; Augier 2014; Ferriès 2016, 162–163. The locus classicus is of course Cic. Planc 21: nam municipia coniunctione etiam uicinitatis uehementer mouentur.

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nus agri Piceni et Sabinorum (Cic. Off. 3.73): it is a polemical aside, no doubt tinged by rhetorical overstatement, and it is doubtful that Basilus was ever given that title in that context by the people of Picenum and the Sabines.54 However, it clearly places the roots of his political influence in a local context, and indeed in his ability to extend his influence over a wider regional setting. The importance that prominent individuals could have in controlling a territory and shaping its allegiance, especially at times of political and military uncertainty, is also confirmed – albeit in rather disingenuous terms – by a passage of the Twelfth Philippic in which Cicero ponders the risks of a journey from Rome to Mutina, and discusses the dangers that he would encounter on the three highways that he could conceivably use.55 The troops of Ventidius are singled out as a threat on the Flaminia. More intriguingly, however, the main hurdle to a journey on the Cassia is regarded the land owned by the septemuir agris diuidundis Lento Caesennius, who had served under Caesar in Spain and was responsible for the killing of Cn. Pompeius after Munda, while the journey on the Aurelia is made impossible by the fact that it would require travelling through Clodius’s estates: Cicero would be persona non grata in those parts even a decade after the death of the landlord. In his assessment, therefore, armies are not the only factor of risk; individual landowners can exercise direct control over portions of territory, and influence wider political developments accordingly. Cicero may well be overstating the extent of the threats he would have had to face, but the fact that he could make that contention in a public speech shows that it may in principle be regarded as plausible. The weight that roads had in the functioning of Roman Italy has received considerable attention of late, as well as their links with the levy and the tribes system.56 The influence of some individuals beyond their municipal contexts and on a wider regional scale must be understood against this background. 4. R. Syme famously argued that Caesar had brought into the Senate sectors of the elites of “the Italia of 90 BC”.57 It is undeniable that the descendants of individuals that had been fighting against Rome in the Social War rose to great prominence half a century after the conflict: Asinius Pollio was the grandson of the Marrucine praetor Herius Asinius, Ventidius Bassus was carried as a boy during the triumph of Pompeius Strabo that followed the Social War, in 89, only to famously celebrate a triumph himself in 38, and his quaestor Poppaedius Silo was almost certainly a descendant of one of the two

54 55 56 57

Cf. Dyck 2004, 587: (Basilus) “was elected patron by the Piceni and Sabini”. The evidence of Phil 2.107 does not prove that he became patron of the whole of Picenum and the Sabine territory. Cic. Phil. 12.23. See Augier 2014, 48. See esp. Crawford 2010, 99–100. Syme 1938, 30 (= 1979, 118).

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leaders of Italia, the Marsian Q. Poppaedius Silo.58 As Syme himself concedes, there is much that we do not know about the membership of the Senate after Sulla, and the few cases of Italians that were recruited into the Senate in the Eighties – the abovementioned Minatus Magius and the remarkable Statius, of Samnite descent, who died in the triumviral proscriptions – show a margin for the co-optation of individuals that were prepared to take a conciliatory attitude towards Rome and the victor in the Civil War did exist.59 For about two hundred senators – not necessarily mere non-entities that failed to reach any curule office – no evidence survives. Syme’s guess that many of these unknown senators were of municipal origin is probably correct, but such absence of evidence should not lead to the conclusion that there was a deliberate policy, whether on Sulla’s or Caesar’s part, to include large contingents of Italici in the Senate. The position of newly enfranchised Cisalpine Gaul in this connection is of course different. We are left, again, to reckon with the weight of Cicero’s assessment, and with its shortcomings. In the Third Philippic, Cicero chastises the attitude of Mark Antony towards the young Caesar, which is tinged by open contempt for his origins: he is not a nobilis, and his mother comes from the municipium of Aricia. Cicero replies that Octavian’s natural father, C. Octavius, would have reached the consulship if he had not met a premature death, and points out that the municipium of Aricia is an ancient and distinguished one. More importantly, though, he notes that in insulting the municipal origins of the young man he is insulting the Senate as a whole, because hardly anyone in the order does not come from a municipium.60 That is an emphatic and disingenuous statement, but it must have had some bearing on reality. It does not apply exclusively to senators that are direct descendants of municipales or still retain direct connections with a municipium, but also to those who have more distant roots in municipal contexts. A further note of caution is in order. This comment is no indication that there was a major shift in the membership of the Senate in the two decades that separate this speech from the pro Sulla, in which, as we saw above, Cicero had pointed out the significance of the Italian electorate in the new political setup and in the selection of the governing group. By the end of Caesar’s review of the senatorial roll, in 45 BC, the size of the Senate was 900 members, but there is no conclusive evidence that the new intake included a sizeable number of municipal men.61

58 59 60

61

Herius Asinius: Livy Per 73.6. The story of Ventidius’ presence at Strabo’s triumph is related by a number of sources, cf. esp. Val. Max. 6.9.9 and Gell. 15.4.3 (full list and discussion in Rohr Vio 2009, 5–6). Poppaedius Silo: Cass. Dio 48.41.1, with Syme 1938, 21 (= 1979, 109) and Bruhns 1978, 87. Cf. Syme 1938, 22–24 (= 1979, 110–111). Statius: App. BCiv 4.25 (labelled by Syme “a renegade rewarded for deserting in time the Italian cause”). Cic. Phil 3.15: uidete, quam despiciamur omnes, qui sumus e municipiis, id est omnes plane; quotus enim quisque nostrum non est? (“Notice how all of us who come from municipia are looked down upon, which to say, just about all of us: for how few of us do not?” trans. G. Manuwald). As Manuwald 2007, 380 notes, this is a “logically faulty generalisation”, but it must have been effective. See Cass. Dio 43.47.3, with Syme 1938, 9–10 (= 1979, 97–98).

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There are, however, other levels of political involvement and influence to which it is worth drawing attention. There was an important option that was open to ambitious members of the municipal elites in the first century BC, and became especially significant in the age of the civil wars: between the rise to senatorial status and the undivided commitment to one’s municipal dimension, there was the possibility of holding non-elective offices in the res publica. The office of the praefectura fabrum offers an especially useful vantage point.62 Far from being merely a task pertaining to the management of military camps and supply chains, it was a position that recognised its holder’s proximity with the commander: it has rightly been recognised as broadly comparable to the role of ‘chief of staff ’ in a modern context.63 The earliest evidence for a holder of that post dates to the Jugurthine War, a conflict that has often been linked to a major change in the functioning of the Roman army, with compelling reasons: however, the involvement of T. Turpilius Silanus, a citizen of Latin origin, possibly from Collatia, as the praefectus of Metellus, cannot be lightly disregarded, and its significance is confirmed by the thoroughness with which Turpilius’s misdemeanours were pursued.64 Only a dozen individuals are firmly attested as holders of the praefectura fabrum during the late Republic, and it is striking that relatively many of them come from far afield from Rome. The list includes two notorious provincials that received the Roman citizenship in this period because of their connections in high places, Balbus from Gades and Theophanes of Mytilene, and a number of municipales, or at least individuals that retained close connections with municipal communities, and for whom there is usually clear evidence of wealth. Sicca, a praefectus of Cicero in 63, was from Southern Italy, probably from Arpinum; Q. Paconius Lepta, who was with Cicero in Cilicia in 51, was almost certainly from Cales; Numerius Magius, appointed by Pompey in 49, hailed from Cremona in Cisalpine Gaul; Volumnius, the praefectus of Mark Antony in 42 BC and former master of Volumnia Cytheris (on whom see supra), presumably belonged to a family from Signia; another prefect appears to be mentioned in an epigraphical fragment from Asculum (CIL I2 1912).65 For other praefecti whose origo remains elusive there is evidence for connections with-

62

63 64

65

The reference treatment of Republican praefecti fabrum is Welch 1995, to be read along with the crucial correctives in Badian 1997. Alberto Cafaro (Pisa) is working on a full-scale study of the praefectura fabrum, encompassing both the Republic and the Principate, soon to appear in the Historia Einzelschriften: I have much benefited for our conversations on this topic. Syme 1961, 28 = 1979, 524. Sall. Iug 66.3, 67.3, 69.4. On Turpilius’ legal status see Badian 1997, 13–16, who argues that Sallust’s text read as ciuis ex Collatia The earliest evidence for the existence of the praefectura fabrum is the fragment of a speech of M. Aemilius Scaurus (cos. 115 BC), preserved by Charisius (p. 129K = ORF4 F 6) and probably to be dated just after 115 BC (see Alexander 1990, 19, no. 37). Evidence and discussion in Welch 1995 and Badian 1997. The Perusine C. Atilius Glabrio, who is added to the list of the Republican praefecti in Badian 1997, 2, should not be included: Letta 2012 convincingly dates his career to the Augustan period (see esp. 147–148).

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in Italy: Marcius Libo (praef 66) owned land at Faventia; Vibullius, a capable agent of Pompey, carried out a levy in Picenum in 49. Even within the context of a very small sample, there is a clear pattern of some historical significance. It was not uncommon for senior magistrates to recruit praefecti fabrum among prominent individuals of municipal provenance. But there is more. Nothing in the profile of the attested praefecti, with the possible exception of Turpilius, would make them unsuitable to join the senatorial order, and in most cases it cannot be firmly ruled out that they did so at a later stage. There is no evidence for restrictions on the praefecti who aimed to attain that status; on the other hand, there are no grounds to conclude that membership of the equestrian order was a prerequisite for holding the post. The cluster of the known praefecti consists of men who were personally recruited by prominent political figures. The evidence tends to focus on the praefecti of individuals that played prominent roles in the grand narratives of the period, and draws attention to a point of wider historical significance: the increasing presence in the top ranks of the Roman army of individuals who did not belong to the established elite. W. Blösel has drawn attention to the ‘Demilitarisierung’ (or military ‘Dequalifizierung’) of the political elite during the late Republican period.66 Holding a role like the praefectura fabrum became an invaluable opportunity for ambitious sectors of the Italian elites to reach distinction in that crucial area, and is a symptom of a wider process that must be the necessary background of the impressive sequence of Italian consuls that reached office from 47 BC onwards. Rather than a mere by-product of military clientelae that replace the traditional bonds of loyalty and consent within the res publica, they should chiefly be understood as a symptom of a long-term redistribution process of military expertise, which Caesar recognised and upon which he acted. Within that dynamic there was also room for the descendants of those who had fought on the side of uítelíu half a century earlier, along with many others who had a far less controversial background. This, in turn, has major political implications. Far from being merely the bearers of technical expertise in military matters, and notwithstanding the fact that their office was not an elected one, they were individuals of considerable political weight, who could be entrusted with tasks of significant import to the running of government.67 The evidence that survives for the late Republican praefecti fabrum also offers a further important insight. On the one hand, it confirms the pattern that we saw at work for the Senate: the names of hundreds of parui senatores no longer survive, and drawing firm conclusions on their geographical background is at best an arduous task. Yet,

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Blösel 2011, esp. 72–76 and 2015, 18, 152–154. Military success remained a powerful source of distinction, and was recognised as such in public discourse: see e. g. Cic. Mur 89 and Caes. BGall 3.59.2–3, with the valuable discussion of Jacotot 2013, 305–308. Speaking of military expertise in the context of the Roman Republic is in fact rather reductive: military skills and leadership are never decoupled from a strong moral dimension. See Jacotot 2013, 82–91; Augier 2016, 92–95.

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there is enough in the material that does survive to convey the sense of the sheer diversity of the forms of political involvement of the members of the Italian elites, and of the range of options and outcomes that were available to them. Far from being peripheral or negligible, the concerns and ambitions of the men from the municipal elites, in Rome, in their hometowns, or in marketplaces far away from Italy, in peacetime and in wartime, are a central part in the political agenda and controversies of the last century of the Republic. Bibliography Alexander 1990 = M. C. Alexander, Trials in the Late Roman Republic, 149 BC to 50 BC, TorontoBuffalo-London Alexander 2009 = M. C. Alexander, Locating the Trial of Plancius between Rules and Persuasion, in: B. Santalucia (Ed.), La repressione criminale nella Roma repubblicana fra norma e persuasion, Pavia, 339–55 Andreau 1983 = J. Andreau, À propos de la vie financière à Pouzzoles: Cluvius et Vestorius, in: M. Cébeillac (Ed.), Les “bourgeoisies” municipales italiennes aux IIe et Ier siècles av. J.-C., Naples, 9–20 Augier 2014 = B. Augier, Implantation foncière et influence locale dans le Bellum Civile: le cas des nouveaux senateurs, in: M. L. Caldelli / G. L. Gregori (Eds.), Epigrafia e ordine senatorio, 30 anni dopo, Roma, 39–56 Augier 2016 = B. Augier, “L’autorité ne va pas sans prestige et le prestige sans éloignement”? Le cas des officiers dans les légions tardo-républicaines, in: R. Baudry / F. Hurlet (Eds.), Le prestige à Rome à la fin de la République et au début du Principat, Paris, 91–103 Badian 1958 = E. Badian, Foreign Clientelae (264–70 B. C.), Oxford Badian 1997 = E. Badian, Notes on a Recent List of Praefecti Fabrum under the Republic, in: Chiron 27, 1–19 Beck 2015 = H. Beck, Beyond ‘Foreign Clienteles’ and ‘Foreign Clans’. Some Remarks on the Intermarriage between Roman and Italian Elites, in: M. Jehne / F. Pina Polo (Eds.), Foreign clientelae in the Roman Empire. A Reconsideration, Stuttgart, 57–72 Berry 1996 = D. H. Berry, Cicero. Pro Sulla Oratio, Cambridge Bispham 2007 = E. Bispham, From Asculum to Actium. The Municipalization of Italy from the Social War to Augustus, Oxford van der Blom 2010 = H. van der Blom, Cicero’s Role Models. The Political Strategy of a Newcomer, Oxford Blösel 2011 = W. Blösel, Die Demilitarisierung der römischen Nobilität von Sulla bis Caesar, in: W. Blösel / K.-J. Hölkeskamp (Hgg.), Von der militia equestris zur militia urbana. Prominenzrollen und Karrierefelder im antiken Rom, Stuttgart, 55–80 Blösel 2015= W. Blösel, Die römische Republik. Forum und Expansion, München Bruhns 1978 = H. Bruhns, Caesar und die römische Oberschicht in den Jahren 49–44 v. Chr. Untersuchungen zur Herrschaftsetablierung im Bürgerkrieg, Göttingen Camodeca 2018 = G. Camodeca, Frigento e il suo territorio in età romana attraverso la documentazione epigrafica, in: A. Famiglietti (Ed.), San Marciano. Primo Vescovo di Frigento tra storia e fede, Frigento, I. 25–46

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Ioannatou 2006 = M. Ioannatou, Affaires d’argent dans la Correspondance de Cicéron. L’aristocratie sénatoriale face à ses dettes, Paris Isayev 2017 = E. Isayev, Migration, Mobility and Place in Ancient Italy, Cambridge Kaster 2006 = R. A. Kaster, Marcus Tullius Cicero. Speech on Behalf of Publius Sestius, Oxford Keppie 1983 = L. Keppie, Colonisation and Veteran Settlement in Italy 47–14 B. C., London Letta 2012 = C. Letta, Ancora sull’introduzione del duovirato municipale nella Perusia romana, in: G. Bonamente (Ed.), Augusta Perusia. Studi storici e archeologici sull’epoca del Bellum Perusinum, Perugia, 137–54 Lomas 2004 = K. Lomas, A Volscian Mafia? Cicero and his Italian Clients in the Forensic Speeches, in: J. J. Paterson / J. G. F. Powell (Eds.), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford, 96–116 Lomas 2013 = K. Lomas, The Weakest Link: Elite Social Networks in Republican Italy, in: S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden-Boston, 197–213 Mamoojee 1998 = A. H. Mamoojee, Cicero: agrestis versus rusticus, in: Cahier des études anciennes 34, 95–102 Manuwald 2007 = G. Manuwald, Cicero. Philippics 3–9, 2 vols., Berlin-New York Manuwald 2018 = G. Manuwald, Cicero, Agrarian Speeches Introduction, Text, Translation, and Commentary, Oxford Maschek 2018 = D. Maschek, Die römischen Bürgerkriege. Archäologie und Geschichte einer Krisenzeit, Mainz Nicols 2014 = J. Nicols, Civic Patronage in the Roman Empire, Leiden-Boston Patterson 2006 = J. R. Patterson, Landscapes and Cities. Rural Settlement and Civic Transformation in Early Imperial Italy, Oxford Patterson 2013 = J. R. Patterson, Contact, Co-operation, and Conflict in Pre-Social War Italy, in: S. T. Roselaar (Ed.), Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Leiden-Boston, 215–26 Patterson 2016a = J. R. Patterson, Elite Networks in Pre-Roman Italy, in: M. Aberson et al (Eds.), L’Italia centrale e la creazione di una koiné culturale? I percorsi della ‘romanizzazione’, Berne, 43–55 Patterson 2016b = J. R. Patterson, Local Elites, in: A. E. Cooley (Ed.), A Companion to Roman Italy, Oxford-Malden, 483–97 Prag 2015 = J. R. W. Prag, Auxilia and clientelae: Military Service and Foreign clientelae Reconsidered, in: M. Jehne / F. Pina Polo (Eds.), Foreign clientelae in the Roman Empire. A Reconsideration, Stuttgart, 281–94 Ramsey 2003 = J. T. Ramsey, Cicero. Philippics I–II, Cambridge Rohr Vio 2010 = F. Rohr Vio, Publio Ventidio Basso. Fautor Caesaris, tra storia e memoria, Roma Roselaar 2016 = S. T. Roselaar, Cicero and the Italians: Expansion of Empire, Creation of Law, in: P. du Plessis (Ed.), Cicero’s Law, Edinburgh, 145–65 Roth 2019 = R. Roth, Sympathy with the Allies? Abusive Magistrates and Political Discourse in Republican Rome, in: American Journal of Philology 140, 123–66 Santangelo 2007 = F. Santangelo, Sulla, the Elites and the Empire. A Study of Roman Policies in Italy and the Greek East, Leiden-Boston Santangelo 2008 = F. Santangelo, Cicero and Marius, in: Athenaeum 96, 597–607 Santangelo 2016 = F. Santangelo, Performing Passions, Negotiating Survival: Italian Cities in the Late Republican Civil Wars, in: H. Börm / M. Mattheis / J. Wienand (Eds.), Civil War in Ancient Greece and Rome. Contexts of Disintegration and Reintegration, Stuttgart, 127–48 Scuderi 1989 = R. Scuderi, Significato politico delle magistrature nella città italiche del I sec. a. C., in: Athenaeum 67, 117–38

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Die Herausgeber und Verfasser Clifford Ando, Department of Classics, The University of Chicago, USA, [email protected] Wolfgang Blösel, Historisches Institut / Alte Geschichte, Universität Duisburg-Essen, DE, [email protected] Marion Bolder-Boos, Klassische Archäologie, Technische Universität Darmstadt, DE, [email protected] Stéphane Bourdin, UFR Temps et Territoires, Université Lumière Lyon 2, FR, [email protected] Guy Bradley, School of History, Archaeology and Religion, Cardiff University, UK, [email protected] Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp, Historisches Institut / Alte Geschichte, Universität zu Köln, DE, [email protected] Sema Karataş, Historisches Institut / Alte Geschichte, Universität zu Köln, DE, [email protected] John R. Patterson, Faculty of Classics, Cambridge, UK, [email protected] Saskia T. Roselaar, Independent, [email protected] Roman Roth, School of Languages and Literatures, University of Cape Town, South Africa, [email protected] Federico Santangelo, School of History, Classics and Archaeology, Newcastle University, UK, [email protected]

Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp / Julia Hoffmann-Salz / Katharina Kostopoulos / Simon Lentzsch (Hg.)

Die Grenzen des Prinzips Die Infragestellung von Werten durch Regelverstöße in antiken Gesellschaften 2019. 240 Seiten 978-3-515-12358-7 gEbunDEn 978-3-515-12360-0 E-book

Wie gingen antike Gesellschaften mit Regelbrüchen und Normkonflikten um? Führten diese Brüche und Konflikte in den jeweiligen Gemeinschaften zu einer Transformation bestehender Werte und Prinzipien oder zu deren Affirmation? Die Autorinnen und Autoren dieses Bandes gehen diesen Fragen nach und nehmen dabei auch die jeweiligen Akteure in den Blick – jene Mitglieder der Gemeinschaften, welche die geltenden Regeln überschritten, ebenso wie jene, welche auf diese Überschreitungen mit Ahndung oder Akzeptanz reagierten. Sowohl die Beiträge zur griechischen als auch die zur römischen Welt ergeben so ein Bild pragmatischer Gesellschaften und Institutionen, deren Funktionieren durch die Bereitschaft zur Aushandlung von Kompromissen einerseits gewährleistet und andererseits immer wieder

herausgefordert wurde. Nicht zuletzt werden dadurch auch Erkenntnisse zur Binnendynamik dieser Gesellschaften sowie zu ihrem „ideologischen“ Umgang mit Politik, Religion, Gesellschaft und Wirtschaft gewonnen. DIE HERausgEbER Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp ist Professor für Alte Geschichte an der Universität zu Köln. Schwerpunkte seiner Forschungen sind Verfassung, Recht und Gesetzgebung im archaischen Griechenland sowie Gesellschaft, Politik und Kultur der römischen Republik. Julia Hoffmann-Salz, Katharina Kostopoulos und Simon Lentzsch sind wissenschaftliche Mitarbeiter und Mitarbeiterinnen in der Abteilung Alte Geschichte des Historischen Instituts der Universität zu Köln.

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During the period between the end of the Hannibalic War and Octavian’s decisive victory in the battle of Actium in 31 BC, the Italian peninsula gradually evolved as the heartland of the Roman Empire as it was expanding across the Mediterranean. The international team of contributors to this book elucidates different aspects of the social, cultural and political tensions that erupted as part of this process, and which more than once threatened the very

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existence of the Roman Republic as an imperial power. Central themes include the relationship between Rome and the Italians as unequal partners; the visual and architectural representation of these dynamics; the place of Italy within Roman concepts of imperial rule; and the gradual, contested transformation of the allied polities into regional communities of Roman citizens.

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